~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seether

Chapter Two - Denial

By Randirogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens. Wipe my nose, get my new boots on. I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter. I put my hand in my father's glove. I run off where the drifts get deeper. Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown. I hear a voice 'you must learn to stand up for yourself 'cause I can't always be around.' He says, when you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you as much as I do? When you gonna make up your mind 'cause things are gonna change so fast…" (Winter -by Tori Amos)

"Mail call!" Bobby announced gleefully as he pranced into the house.

He was just returning from a rather banal assignment, so banal, in fact, that mail distribution seemed like a raging party in comparison. He handed out the various pieces of mail to each of the X-Men as they made their way into the foyer to greet him. In a short time, the other X-Men filtered out of the foyer to their previous tasks, mostly relaxation. Bobby was glad for that. He was even grateful for the banal mission. For even though Bobby drake, eternal prankster of the X-Men that he was could always make light of any situation, the chance for enough calm to really allow him to cut loose and have fun on his own terms was a godsend.

"Debrief now," Scott commanded curtly.

Guess Scott's back to his old tricks again, Bobby thought as he groaned pathetically.

He shoved the remaining unclaimed letter into his pocket. It was addressed to Rogue, and since he was under the misapprehension that she still wasn't there, he planned to put it in her room with the other few pieces of mail that had arrived for her since she'd departed with Storm and the others. He frowned at that. Of all the X-Men, only Bishop, the time displaced and least social X-Man, got less mail than Rogue.

Bobby hiked his bag up onto his shoulder and followed Cyclops down the hall. His thoughts strayed to Rogue. When was the last time he'd seen his road trip buddy?

God, it had to be what two, nearly three years since we spent any real time together. Since the road trip, he realized with a start. She'd run off after the blow up with Gambit. Were they together now? He wondered. It was hard to keep track. Last he checked, they were only lukewarm. In the middle.

He shook his head and released a short burst of laughter.

Scott turned back to him with a dim glare, "What's so funny?"

What's got your tights in a bunch? The thought only increased Bobby's mirth. God, it is good to be back.

Bobby shook his head, trying to stifle his amusement. When Scott turned away from him and continued towards the Prof's office, Bobby continued his previous train of thought.

When Rogue had returned, she had brought Joseph with her. Nobody got much time with her then, not even Gambit. He smiled at that. Silly Cajun, thieves are for… jail? Well, I don't know. Besides, who am I to talk?

There was Onslaught, then Zero Tolerance, the Shi'ar space thing, he went to his parent's place…

Wish she'd visited. My dad actually asked how she was doing. At least she called… Once

He was still unsure about all that had happened while he was gone. There was Apocalypse, Scott went missing, Xavier went missing—twice, Gambit's trial and all, the Skrull thing…

Something with that changed Rogue's powers. Mutated them. Made them more uncontrollable...

His mood sobered with that and was drawn to even more depressing thoughts. Joseph died, Piotr died.

Hank said she took that kind of hard. Not as bad as Joseph, but… Didn't realize they'd been close. What'd you expect, Bobby? You weren't around and she needed at least one friend that wasn't constantly trying to get into her pants… or wasn't close with the one who was trying to get into her pants.

Oh, yeah, and Psylocke. She was with Rogue's team.

Man, three deaths. Wow. Maybe it isn't so great to be back. Makes another road trip with Rogue, Gambit angst included, sound like a picnic right about now. No, no, don't get on about that damned Cajun. It was pretty cool of him to baby-sit dad.

By the time they'd reached the Professor's office, Bobby was relieved for the distraction.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Silent whispers, loud awakening, lost myself in pointless missions. Hope to live, hope to love, hope to be forgiven. Leftover dreams forgotten, misplaced thoughts, and empty spaces waiting to be filled and found. Spilt milk tears, for their fears, beat myself up through the years for my distant knowledge and neglect for the ones I love. We left behind no crumbs to find our way home. Love me now one, two, one, spirit. I cannot hide in silence. Take me or leave me naked. My cloth is surface anyway." (Mission -by The Murmurs)

"Hey ya'll," Rogue announced as she clambered into the medlab.

Remy's spatial sense noticed her. But she wasn't close enough. Not close enough. He went back to his dream. There she was close. There she was everything he saw in her. Everything he wanted of her. None of it was true. But then, it was just a dream.

"You are fifteen minutes late, child. Is something amiss?" Storm asked as Rogue plopped herself onto the examining table on the other side of the room from Remy's unconscious form.

"Nah. Ah just got caught up in meditation. Wolvie's been getting on me since we got back." She shrugged. "Ah lost track of time is all." She glanced over at Remy.

Storm rested a comforting hand on Rogue's shoulder. Habit took over. Habit had become instinct. Rogue recoiled, shrugged off Storm's hand, and spun to face her. It was one jerked, fluid motion. Fear lanced her brow, then softened, made rigid with her fortitude.

"Do not worry, child. He is fine. Hank is keeping him sedated."

Gambit had stirred awake in the wee hours of the morning. Rogue had woken up, somehow know he'd come to, but Hank wouldn't let her in. He had a battery of questions and tests to do on Gambit and assured her she'd be able to see him when she came in for her own tests.

"This is correct, my dear," Hank added as he joined them with a clipboard and printouts in hand. "Our ever charming Acadian is not so charming when stuck in a bed here in the medlab." He raised a quizzical, yet teasing brow to Rogue. "But whether it is for my benefit or his, I'm not quite sure."

Rogue smiled. It's what he wanted. If she didn't, she would only have more prodding to attest to. As it was, she wasn't sure what he wanted to examine her for. Don't give him any more to worry about, girl. Remy needs his attention... Might as well get on with it.

"So what'd ya have in mind here, Sugar?"

"Foremost, I intend to catalogue your powers in their current state. Secondly, to determine if they've stabilized, and if not, thirdly, determine what may be expected to come of them. Lastly, and most importantly, to register their effect on your physical and mental health. For the latter part, I will ask Jean or Xavier's assistance of course."

"Well, that's a mouthful." Rogue raised a brow to Storm. "Don't sound like it's something ya'll can expect to accomplish in one or two sittings. Can ah assume, we're grounded here 'till Hank's done with his li'l experimentin', 'Roro?"

"I am afraid so, Rogue." Storm admitted. "It was foolish of me to allow you to accompany us before your powers were completely examined and…"

"And what?" Rogue's anger rose.

"…Stable."

Storm recognized the look that flooded Rogue's face with her statement. She was prepared for it, though. Rogue was clamping herself off. Her stability had been under scrutiny before. Since then, it seemed to many of the X-Men that Rogue would rather suffer complete madness before she would admit to even having a crack in her sanity. All that insecurity then gets channeled into anger.

On cue, Rogue snapped up off the table. Her flight kept her aloft. Her fury added a fine tremor through her hovering form.

"Stable?" she said with a quiet, dangerous rage.

Storm and Hank were surprised by this change. Rogue normally displayed temper tantrums, yelling, intimidating, throwing things, when angry.

Silence was a fear thing for Rogue. And when fear mixed with real anger, not just the covering-up-her-feelings anger, she tended to bolt. Neither Storm nor Hank wanted that. Especially since this reaction merely substantiated their concerns about Rogue and her seemingly ever-evolving powers, as had been the state of her powers since absorbing a Skrull telepath against her will.

But quiet rage?

They didn't know how to deal with that on Rogue. Storm and Hank looked at each other and saw their own reaction reflected back at them. Storm nodded to Hank then turned back to Rogue.

"Don't even call Jean in here, Hank," Rogue said. Her voice was just as quiet, just as contained, just as raging.

Hank responded with an incredulously risen brow.

"Yeah, Ah head your thoughts." Rogue smiled. It was devious. "Didn't Stormy here tell you? Ah can call on most of the powers Ah absorbed in the past as Ah want to."

Hank grinned, ear to ear. "You can control the manifestations, then? Indubitably, this is indeed good news, Rogue!"

Hank's sudden outburst of cheer was infectious on Rogue. She sighed, and felt the rage slowly ease a bit. She lowered herself back onto the table.

"Ah know you mean well. Ah'm just tired of ya'll assuming Ah'm about to lose it any minute. Makes me feel like Ah'm eighteen again and Ah'm just a junior leaguer who's mind flip flops between my own and Carol's."

"We are just concerned about you, Rogue," Ororo said. "It is true that you've exhibited more control since we went out on our own. But you've also been even more closed off. I have witnessed some…"

Ororo took a deep breath to prepare for any one of the possible violent reactions Rogue could have with the impending statement. She squared herself before Rogue and looked her sternly in the eye.

"...Symptoms of your behavior that remind me of precisely that time with Carol."

Rogue lowered her head.

Ah will not throw a tantrum. Ah will not throw a tantrum.

She gripped the edge of the table on either side of her in attempt to ease the burst of tension filling her and threatening to overflow. Her fingers squeezed the metal like it was clay, soft, malleable, squishy even. Rogue clenched her teeth to stop crushing the table.

Ya'll want to see control? Ah'll show you control.

She took a deep breath. She concentrated on Storm. She was right in front of her, within reach, but she didn't need to touch her to call upon the powers that were Storm's namesake. If she used Jeanie's telepathy, she could even surprise Storm with what she was about to do. In her concentration, she also felt Hank and Remy, tacky and slack. They were so close to her, they were fresh on her mind and she could feel their powers rising in her as well.

Not them too. Too much. Not them. Just 'Roro and Jean. Just 'Roro and Jean.

She focused her concentration, felt Hank and Remy loosen from her, less tacky.

You can do it. Don't let yourself slip up now. This would be a poor time for that.

She felt Hank slide back down into her subconscious. She was so proud of herself she forgot about Remy. If she had thought about it, she would've convinced herself that she could still feel his presence because it had been part of her for so long after that kiss in Israel. But she didn't think about that. It would have been a lie anyway.

She gritted her teeth and gripped the table in concentration and not anger. It wasn't calling on the powers, nor using them exactly how she wanted that was so much work. It was using Jean's telepathy to keep Storm from sensing the weather alterations she was about to do. It was covering up that she was even using the telepathy on Storm as well.

Sudden blinding flash of lightning and thunderclap startled Storm and Hank both.

"Goddess!" Storm exclaimed. She had been thoroughly taken unawares.

Hank eyed her with disbelief. Cold rain drizzled down on them. They both looked up to see the small storm above them. Storm raised her hand, and with a dismissive gesture, the clouds dissipated and disappeared.

"I am impressed, Rogue," Hank said. He marveled over it a moment, studying the place the storm had just been and then Storm herself, who seemed agitated that the weather could act without her awareness. Then he continued, "But your control over these other powers raises questions about your—"

Rogue was smirking at them. Her hands still gripped the table, but not firmly.

"Then again," Storm said as she eyed what caught Hank's attention.

The table under Rogue's hands was glowing with kinetic energy. Gambit's powers. And it was spreading.

"Damnit," Rogue cursed then pulled the charge back inside her using Bishop's power. She shrugged and smiled with wry, resigned humor. "Oops?"

"You might as well agree, Rogue," Storm pressed, then softened. "We only have your well being in mind."

Rogue released a sigh. "Ah know. Ah figured ya'll would get around to it eventually." She shook her head then lowered it, letting her bangs hide her face. "Thought Ah'd have more time is all."

Hank's initial tests commenced then. Assisted by Storm when prudent, Hank took blood samples, checked Rogue's vitals, and got x-rays of nearly every inch of her. He logged every finding precisely. A CatScan was scheduled for later that week and he outlined his plans for the testing that would take place in the danger room. It would start out with the basics, measuring her vitals while exerting herself in the use of various individually and combined exercises of all her accessible powers. The testing would revolve around the physical and mental effects in increasingly complex medical examinations and power tests. By the time they were done for the day, only two hours later to Rogue's surprise, Rogue was thoroughly worn out.

How can a gal get so danged tired doing nothing but sitting around, she wondered.

She spent a few minutes at Remy's side, willing him to get better soon before heading back to her room she for a deep meditation session, as Logan had gotten her into doing, to rejuvenate herself.

Storm and Hank, however, stayed behind, discussing Hank's findings and plans.

"I'd like to involve Sage in this," Storm suggested. Upon Hank's quizzical gaze, she explained, "She recently triggered a latent mutant power in Slipstream, a comrade of ours back in Australia. I have suspicions she aided Rogue's newfound control as well."

"You're not suggesting—"

Hank didn't get to finish the statement. Storm cut him off gently.

"I'm not suggesting anything at this point, Henry. I merely propose she could aid you in analysis and theory."

Hank nodded in understanding. As he returned to studying Rogue's medical files, he felt Storm read the screen over his shoulder. He blanked the screen, then turned to face Storm.

"Did the Professor ever discuss Rogue's powers with you?"

"What do you mean? We all know about her powers. Not the changes. But before that."

Hank sighed. "Xavier and I have had theories. Even before the changes. The direction of these changes reinforce these theories."

"What are they?"

Hank shook his head. "We've never even discussed it with Rogue. It was always mere speculation. I don't feel comfortable discussing it with you without Rogue present. It is a personal matter for her and not a matter of danger to the team. Your involvement in these examinations is welcomed as long as Rogue is comfortable with it. But—"

"It would be a violation of doctor-patient privileges if I were to involve myself more than I already have without Rogue's express permission," Storm stated matter-of-factly. She wasn't offended by Hank's discretion.

Hank sighed again. "I am most relieved. I shall see you tomorrow, at Rogue's next exam."

"Tomorrow, then," Storm said.

She moved to Remy's side and gave his hand a squeeze as she watched over her friend with a worried frown.

I'm not sure if it's a good or bad that you're not up and around for this. On one side, Rogue would no doubt prosper from your support. On the other side, you intrude on her comfort zone as if it were your duty to push him into physical and emotional closeness. And that, I'm afraid, has never been prosperous for Rogue. She doesn't like to be forced.

She smiles broadly, despite herself, as she remembers Remy's persistence in his persuasions with Rogue. If nothing else, he's a charmer.

And you, my friend, don't take no for an answer.

Remy felt her leave with his spatial sense. He felt her release his hand before that as well. He had felt her grasp his hand. He had heard them discuss Rogue. He had been reeled into semi-consciousness when Rogue had drawn on his power. He felt her use it with his spatial sense—so he had told himself—but truthfully it was like she'd idly cast a tacky fishing line and hooked him.

He almost squeezed Ororo's hand when she had squeezed his. Just to surprise her.

Dat would've been real funny to see. Even better if I yelled BOO! Merde! Heh heh...

He chuckled inside his mind. He was careful not to give any outward sign of his wakefulness. Beast would sedate him again soon enough as it was and after hearing the little he did, he wanted to find out as much as he could about what was going on with Rogue. As much as he joked to himself, he really wasn't awake enough to do any of the things he joked about. But he could eavesdrop and try to store the information he learned for use when Hank was done with keeping him sedated.

And I bet I'll learn a lot while Hank's going over Rogue's file. Heh heh. He's got a bad habit of talking to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm a dream liver, I'm a dream liver, I've got my ticket to Zen, and I'm going to a place where hypnotism rings. Going to a magic wonderful. It will mystify Dreams take me far away. Land like a sprinkle on an ice cream cone. Fly like a dragon, tossing dust of an angel through the air like snow. Fantastical state of mind… Flower petal take me to a dandelion den where they'll be rainbow bricks to climb, yeah, to climb so high. Walk on the byway with the chosen ones. Stars shoot our wishes, takes us to Zen. Build a bridge over sorrows. Know that they'll be gone tomorrow. Walk on the byway with the chosen ones… From branches I'll swing to my challenging skies. I'll grow vines of hope for you to climb. I'm a dream liver. I'm a dream liver. I've got my ticket to Zen and I'm on my way." (Ticket to Zen by The Murmers)

Who would've thought you could get brain freeze from a conversation.

It had been a long, tedious debriefing with Scott and the Professor. There was a lot of information to give them, boring statistical information filled mostly with names and numbers and wasn't anything Bobby didn't think they could've gotten over the Internet. But, since the Professor outed himself, he didn't want to use the Internet. Even with the Institute's advanced technology and securities, the Internet relied on wires and lines that can be traced. Nobody wanted to give the government or anyone else any more ammunition on the Institute since they'd come out of the closet, as it were.

Who would've thought I could get brain freeze! I'm Iceman.

He laughed quietly to himself, wishing Hank wasn't into some new research project down in his lab. He thought his closest friend would be available for more of their antics now that the Legacy Virus had been cured. But no! Hank went and found himself a new pet project and Bobby was left to his lonesome. Even Rogue with her constant mood swings was at least fun. Hell, even Gambit enjoyed a prank or two when he wasn't busy flirting and inducing Rogue's mood swings, of course. But they weren't here, he remembered.

Bobby rubbed his temple as he turned the corner of the girls' dorm, nearing Rogue's closed door.

Ha! Brainfreeze! Bobby really knew how to appreciate a joke.

He halted just outside Rogue's door, letter in hand, ready for delivery, or storage, since her and a bunch of others were away on some extended mission no one around the mansion seemed to be willing to discuss too much.

God, I really need to get some more friends. It's not a good sign when I get so amused teasing myself 'cause there isn't anyone else around to join in my fun.

With that, he entered Rogue's room.

"Rogue!" Bobby yelped in surprise and embarrassment when he found her in it.

He was not the type of person to bust into a woman's room uninvited. Especially Rogue's. She threw things. And she was super strong. And currently, she was sitting Indian style on the floor in the middle of her room.

"Bobby!" Rogue exclaimed, mimicking him, but didn't move, not at all. She was in the middle of a meditation session.

She was backlit by sunshine from the wide-open window behind her. Her short hair—

Short hair, she cut her hair?

Rose and fell with the light breeze that came from that same window. Her face was softly illuminated with an amber hue from the candles on the floor in front of her. Her eyes were closed, face and posture relaxed, more relaxed than he'd seen her since…well, in a long time. …And she was beautiful.

Wow!

A smile quirked Rogue's lips upon hearing Bobby's thought. So much for the meditation.

"Ah'll take that as a compliment, Sugar," Rogue said without looking up.

"Wha… what?" Bobby stammered.

Rogue looked up, grinning mischievously, and said, "Gotcha!" She uncrossed her legs and blew out the candles. Further teasing him, she asked, "So you think Ah'm beautiful, huh?"

Rogue smiled wider. This is fun. Ah could get used to embarrassing everyone.

Then it was Bobby's turn to grin. "You're projecting, Rogue."

Rogue frowned, playfully, and grumbled, "In or out, Bobby."

"In," Bobby announced as he moved further into the room after closing the door behind him. He walked past her bed, though he couldn't keep his eyes from flicking to it for a split second, and then sat on the chair at her desk. He straddled it and rested his elbows on the chair back.

Rogue stretched her legs and moved to her bed. She plopped down on it with tousled grace, propped her back against the wall, and pulled a stuffed alligator onto her lap.

"Time was, a guy was safe around you," Bobby prodded, keeping his tone light. His grin widened preemptively, "With his thoughts, at least."

He was rewarded with the stuffed gator thrown unceremoniously at him. Bobby laughed.

"Just be glad ah didn't use Gambit's aim with that," she teased.

"Oh, I am," He said, chuckling. He waved the letter for her to see. "You've got mail."

"So that's why you walked right in my room like it was yours to do with as ya pleased," Rogue said as she sat up on the edge of the bed.

Bobby opened his mouth to give a smart aleck remark but she waved both hands in disgusted dismissal and scrunched up her face like she tasted something sour.

"Ugh! Don't even say it, Bobby. You played enough pranks on me that Ah get the idea. Just toss it here."

"I don't know. I'm feeling kinda gypped here. I didn't get to go through your stuff and lay sneaky traps for later. I didn't even get to read it before you did, like I did with all your other mail."

Rogue flew at him, hovering just out of reach. "You didn't!"

Bobby mocked opening the letter.

"Bobby! Give it!" Rogue reached for it, but he pulled it away. In doing so he got a whiff of cologne. He leaned back out of her reach and smelled the letter. He grinned.

"It's a love letter, Rogue. There's cologne on it."

She lunged for it again, and he pushed off the floor, sending the chair rolling sideways away from her. He read the name off the front.

"And it's not from Gambit. I can't wait to tell him you've got a guy after you all the way from…" he read the address and his eyes flew open in surprise, "from Spain. You have been busy."

"Spain?"

Rogue raked her mind for the name of the person it could be from. She didn't know anyone from Spain. No one they ran into there knew where they were from. Neither did anyone they met have much interest in them other than getting them out of their hair after all that went down. They'd left Lifeguard and Slipstream in Australia.

Who else could it be?

And then she remembered.

"I have chosen you to be the first," were the words he had spoken to her before Beast came to her rescue, before Psylocke stepped in and took her place in death. A wave of panic crashed over her.

"Vargas!" Rogue spat.

"That's him," Bobby said, still teasing. He had his back to her as he held the letter up to the sunlight. He turned back to her slowly adding to the tease, "So, how does Gambit feel about him—"

The look of hatred on Rogue's face stopped him.

"Rogue?"

"He killed Psylocke." It came out as a growl. "Throw it out. I don't want anything from him."

Rogue bit her lip and then went blank, still. She was spacing.

Ah couldn't fight him. Ah couldn't beat him. He was faster. He was stronger. He hurt me and Ah couldn't do anything about it. Nothin'! Ah was his. Ah was his. Ah was his.

Rogue's breathing increased and sharpened. She was hyperventilating. Her eyes opened wide, panicky as her breathing. Her pupils shrank to tiny pin-pricks, the emerald jewels of her irises swallowing the black centers. Then, just as suddenly, the black swelled to full dilation, eclipsing the green till that was barely the thinnest dull washers. Then they shrank again, then dilated again. Shrank, dilated, shrank, dilated.

"Rogue! What the hell?"

Bobby shook her, but she didn't change.

One of her arms snapped up, her hand gripping her shoulder so she hugged her chest protectively. The other arm hugged across her stomach, its hand gripping her hip. Her knuckles were white on both hands, her fingers digging into her flesh.

Can she bruise herself? Which is greater—her invulnerability or her strength?

He didn't want to find out.

He pulled on her arms, trying to make her let go of herself. She jerked back and clutched tighter. He didn't think she could. But her arms quaked with their effort.

Ah couldn't stop him. Couldn't stop him. Nothin' Ah could do. Ah was trapped. Trapped. Hurt. Hurt so much. Ah was his. Ah was his. Ah was his.

He tugged as hard as he could on her arms and his hands just snapped off her like a stretched rubber band.

"Shit!" Bobby cursed.

He knew he couldn't strong-arm her. No way. But he had to try. Useless as it was. He had to try. But he couldn't. His arms felt like wet noodles. Now he was out of breath and covered with a light sheen of sweat. She was doing something to him. He wasn't sure what. But she was. Probably one of her powers. Maybe a defensive thing, something instinctual, because he didn't want to believe she'd intentionally hurt him and she didn't seem like she could be doing it by choice at the moment. She looked like she was in shock.

"Shit!" He cursed again as he paused to catch his breath.

Stop! No! No, no, no, no, no. Poppa, no. Please, don't. Please stop…

Bobby gasped, "Huh," and jerked upright. I heard that.

He softened from his frenzied panic. He approached her with new, curious eyes. He followed the length of her left arm. He saw how it covered her breasts. He followed the length of her right arm. He saw that it covered her… her…

Dammit Bobby, if she had to feel it, you can at least acknowledge it.

It covered her groin. He looked into her terrified face. He didn't see the weakness of her fear. He didn't feel pity for her suffering. He saw the strength of her endurance. He felt humility in the face of her experiences. And somewhere deep inside, he felt remorse for the sudden loss of his perception of her eternal innocence, always untouchable as she was. He let these feelings soak into him, seethe into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against him.

"I'm here, Rogue. I'm here. You're not alone." Over and over again he repeated it, hoping to calm her.

She didn't release herself, she didn't loosen her grip, and she didn't acknowledge him. But a tiny whimper breathed out her mouth and graced his neck. With a jerk, he suddenly clutched her closer and Rogue bucked, spasmed. Her hands sprung out, the force of the motion knocking Bobby away and into the bookshelf a few feet behind him. She obviously didn't like what he'd done.

Bobby looked up at her in shock, thankful she hadn't actually pushed him, and gaped at what he saw. Rogue was doubled over on the floor. Her knees were drawn up against her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She was rocking in a frenzied rhythm that immediately brought one word to Bobby's mind, Denial. Her hands clutched her stomach, as if by not clutching the injured area of her body kept it from ever having been injured. Again, that word came to mind, Denial.

Bobby approached her carefully. She scrambled a few feet away to maintain the small distance between them. Then she resumed the rocking, the clutching, the denying.

Dammit! Her own father!

He knelt down where he stood, mindful to keep his movements non-threatening. He watched her for a long while, unsure of what to do. If she wouldn't let anyone near her, what could anyone, even Hank, do? With her powers, especially when things like this happened—though he couldn't remember anything specifically like this ever happening before—neither Jean nor the Professor could even scratch the exterior of her mind with their telepathy. The most they could read on the best of terms was surface thoughts or purposeful verbal-like communication, and that was only when Rogue actively allowed it and participated in the exchange with her own psionic nature of her powers.

"Rogue," he said tentatively. "I don't know what to do for you. Should I do something?"

He wished she would respond. He was getting tired in that position. His knees were beginning to burn for staying crouched for so long. He didn't want to startle her by standing, but his legs were getting shaky. How long had he been kneeling there, watching her?

"Rogue? Can you even hear me?"

Rocking, clutching, denying.

He touched the wood floor in front of him to balance himself. It was damp. It was sticky damp and it was warm, but cooling. He raised his fingers to look at them. He gulped.

He gulped again.

Blood. On his fingers. He looked at the floor. He saw a small stain of blood. It wasn't much, just enough to dampen the surface, definitely not enough to be a puddle. It wasn't life threatening. But it was definitely from Rogue.

But she's invulnerable!

He could count on both hands the number of times he's known her to be injured in a way that she actually bled from it.

This is so not good. Nothing touched her!

He pulled the comm badge from his jeans pocket and activated it. "Hank? It's Bobby."

"Don't," Rogue said. It was one breathy word. But it was sure; it was solid. It immediately caught his attention.

"Hello, there Bobby," Hank's voice said through the comm badge. "What can I do for you my febricity challenged friend?"

Bobby looked to Rogue, who was now standing near the window. There was no sign of distress in her appearance or demeanor. In fact, she had a perplexed expression on her face as she eyed the carmine stain on his fingers and the floor below him.

"Did ya hurt yourself, sugah?" There was confusion and concern for him in her eyes.

"Just wondering if you were ever gonna leave that lab?" Bobby, covering, asked Hank with forced humor.

"Ahh, well..." Hank trailed off. It was a sure sign that he expected his next statement to be a downer for Bobby, who was probably leading into suggestion some mischief with his best bud. "I have just made an interesting discovery. But, I would gladly give up some time Friday night just for you."

"Sounds great." Bobby said, forcing himself to keep up the charade—though he wasn't sure why he was—for Hank.

Bobby stood stock still, watching Rogue. He was leery of making sudden or startling moves near Rogue, afraid it'd set her off again.

To Hank, through the comm badge, Bobby asked, "Want me to get you for dinner?"

"Indubitably!" Hank exclaimed before terminating the communication.

Bobby held onto the comm badge for a moment, considering calling Hank back and telling him why he really called down. He rubbed his tacky fingertips together.

"Are you bleeding, Bobby?" She asked, honestly wondering if he was. "Why didn't you tell Hank?"

"You told me not to," he said, taken aback by his own words. He wasn't going to push it. Rogue never reacted well to that. But this was serious. It had to be dealt with, for her safety. Her safety was very important to him.

Rogue looked at him quizzically. "Ah don't get ya, Sugar."

"This is your blood, Rogue," he said, preparing for anything, be it thrown objects, her flying out the window, a denial.

"My blood?" She looked herself over. "Ah don't have a mark on me."

He nodded. Words were getting harder. They were getting caught in his throat. "It's not that type of …" How do I say this? He took a deep breath before continuing, "Not that kind of wound. I think… I mean… it's…"

"Just be out with it already."

"It's not polite to say, okay?"

Rogue's eyes widened. Shock, surprise, embarrassment? Her expression was a mixture of all, and yet, was none of them. She looked down at her legs again. A small trickle of bright red blood edged past the cuff of her shorts. Thoughts played across her face one after the other. Finally, confusion settled.

"But, its not…" She stammered, her thoughts trying to piece it all together, yet refusing the truth. "Ah mean—"

She fainted. Rogue actually fainted. Bobby watched her, utterly shocked. After a moment, he realized that her chest didn't rise and fall. She wasn't breathing.

Shit!

Bobby simultaneously rushed to her side and activated the comm badge to Hank. "Get up here, now, Hank!"

Bobby tried to check the pulse on her neck using her hair as a shield between his skin and hers, but couldn't feel anything. He moved to her wrist, using his shirt as a shield that time. Still nothing.

How the hell can I feel her pulse through clothing!*

He was so caught up in finding her pulse he didn't hear Hank's repeating his name through the comm link.

"Please, Hank, hurry. I don't think she's breathing!"

"Bobby, calm down. Listen to me for a second, okay. Who's not breathing?"

"Rogue."

"Okay, where are you?"

"Her room. I can't find her pulse, Hank," he whispered frighteningly.

"Oh dear," Hank said, "I'm on my way."

Hanks rushed movements could be heard over the comm link. He was keeping it open for Bobby, to reassure him. Bobby heard him bounding up the stairs.

He just reached the second floor. Only two to go. Then he would have to get to the wing, then two more corridors, four doors. It's too long, too long. Where was Kurt when you needed him?

Bobby yanked a sheet from her bed and wrapped it around her to protect himself from her skin. Then he sat beside her and pulled her into his lap. He wasn't thinking about preventing further injuries. He wasn't thinking about her injuries at all. He was only thinking that nobody could give her mouth to mouth. Nobody.

"I'm scared Hank," he said, knowing Hank would hear him through the still open comm. He pulled her against his chest, trying to feel for any motion that would identify her heart beating, her lungs breathing. No air came out of her mouth. "She's still not breathing."

"I'm almost there, Bobby. I'm hurrying. I've called for Jean. She'll lift her with her TK."

Bobby hugged her against him for a moment as he calculated the time to get her from her room to the medlab. He took a deep breath, and years of training took over.

"She needs CPR, Hank," Bobby said over the comm. It was so calm, so controlled, so professional, Hank almost tripped. Bobby continued, his resolution strengthening him far more than his training ever had, "Do you have an inhibitor?"

Hank didn't respond. He didn't need to. They both knew the answer. Bastion took everything. Everything. Some things just hadn't been high on the replacement list, like inhibitors for medical emergencies for the only person whose powers would necessitate needing one. ...A person who was invulnerable, a person who was stubborn to her marrow, a person who had been off on another team, a person who had gotten newfound control of an accessible self-healing ability.

Still, the realization sent a surge of adrenaline through Hank. He didn't think he could run faster, but he did. He rounded the corner and could see Rogue's closed door ahead of him. As he reached Rogue's room, he heard Jean round the corner of the corridor, racing only shortly behind him.

Bobby had unwrapped the blanket from Rogue. He didn't think about the blood seethed into the sheet nor the amount of it on the floor that could now officially be called a puddle. He didn't feel the soft cushions of her breasts as he pressed once, twice, three times. He didn't feel the silkiness of her full lips as his mouth pressed against them as he tried to breathe for her. All his concentration was focused on one thought.

Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Don't pass out.

He felt the pull of his mind into her, but didn't give himself the chance to marvel or worry over his still being awake. He moved back to her chest and pushed once, twice, three times. Then back to her lips. This time he did pass out. Thankfully, it was just as Hank and Jean entered the room. But, he didn't know that. It was outside the thought, Don't pass out.

Besides, he already had.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lumina, come and wrap around me. Lumina take me through the snow. Eve took a train. Eve took a train. Went to see her man. Melting inside, melting away, like butter in the pan. Lumina come and wrap around me. Lumina take me through the snow. Eve took the fruit. Eve bit the fruit. Juice ran down her chin. Babies will put things in their mouth… Never heard of sin. Lumina open like the sea. Lumina see me in the dark. Eve had to ask. Eve had to ask, 'What is wrong with this?' Here is the place, now is the time, let's invent the kiss. Lumina come and wrap around me. Lumina come and wrap around me. Come and wrap around me." (Lumina -by Joan Osborne)

Lily perched on the porch swing. How she could perch while six and a half months pregnant was never explained. But her aunt let her be. She didn't bother her with questions like 'Where is your husband? Did you leave him? Will you return? Will he come here? Does he know you're gone? Does he know you're pregnant? Is your baby okay? Are you okay? Why don't you speak to us?' She doesn't ask these things because she knows there would be no answer in return. She has resigned herself to this. It has always been Lily's way.

Lily was her youngest brother's daughter. He was a well-known Baptist preacher. He was the heart and soul of this town. He was the wealthiest, most successful man in the town. Everyone looked up to him. Nobody was surprised that Lily, his daughter, turned out as she did. She was bright. She was beautiful. She had a fair and cheerful temperament. She cared for others, didn't have a selfish streak in her. She glowed, and that glow was infectious. It was hard to be anything but cheerful when around her.

Because of all this, nobody paid any mind to her one peculiarity. She never answered personal questions—of any kind. Sure she interacted with people. She was quite the socialite. It was no surprise when her father showed her off in his political circles. Only the very best for his delicate flower.

Lily was soon snatched up by an up and coming young man with great potential, if little in the way of family name. He had political aspirations and was quickly making a name for himself. He was an engineer with respect in the robotics community. He had a great many theories and plans. Soon after meeting Lily, those plans included her. The two of them fit like two halves of a simple puzzle. Just as Lily didn't answer personal questions neither did she ask them. She didn't involve herself in his profession, and that suited him just fine. She had her heart set on raising a whole house of children and busying herself solely with adoring them. They were married inside of a year, and within six more months, she was pregnant. Another six months had her on her aunt's doorstep carrying the only possessions she brought with her—the baby growing in her stomach and her cheerful demeanor.

Her aunt refilled her lemonade and watched Lily for a moment. Lily rocked in the swing in a lazy and contented manner. She held a glass of lemonade in one hand and touched her belly with the other. She always was touching her belly. She was always talking to the baby inside. When someone was in earshot, she spoke of nonsense, sung lullabies, and recited children's rhymes. When nobody was around, she infused everything she'd ever wanted to share and teach her child with her words. It was as if she knew she only had this time to do it. She had to beat out the teaching of others. She would not be around to protect her baby from the evils of the world. She needed to prepare her now, while she had the chance. And she had to hope it was enough.

Since her aunt remained after refilling her lemonade and, in fact, took up beside Lily on the porch swing, Lily recited one of her favorite rhymes. It was one her own mother had told her over and over again before she had died. Her mother had drowned. Their home edged the Mississippi River. Her mother loved to take walks along the river. Since Lily was old enough, she often brought Lily with her. She never listened to the concerned warnings of the danger of the river during the rainy season that were made by her husband and her husband's sister. That year, the rains were no worse than they were accustomed too. No better either. Lily's mother didn't heed the warnings. But, she let Lily's father talk her into leaving Lily behind and permitting him to accompany her instead. Still, she got too close. She slipped on the saturated silt. She was caught by the river and swept downstream. Her body was found, battered and bruised from the extensive beatings the debris in the river, three miles away. Lily's father was distraught, a veritable living wreck. Lily was worse. She was eleven years old. And from that day forward, she never answered or asked a personal question.

"Hickory, Dickory, Dock," Lily recited to her unborn baby, "the mouse ran up the clock."

Lily scampered her fingers up the mound of her belly for effect.

"The clock struck one."

Lily did a playful tap at the one o'clock position around her belly button.

"And down he'd come."

Lily scampered her fingers back down.

"Hickory, Dickory, Dock!" She exclaimed with an enthusiastic smile.

Lily sipped her lemonade. Her aunt spotted the emergency suitcase—the one packed and ready to go for when Lily went into labor—sitting on the porch beside the swing. Her aunt sighed and stood.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," she said then returned inside.

Lily continued her lessons to her daughter. Periodically, she would sip her lemonade. Mostly she hunched close to her belly, drawing circles on it in subtle reassurance.

"Ah know that was rude," Lily told her baby, "but Ah don't have much time left and Ah have so much ta tell ya. Yoah coming tonight, ya know?

"Okay, where'd Ah leave off? Oh yeah, Ah 'member. Ah am a special person. It's what a few people in the know are calling a mutant. Ah'm one o' the most common type. Ah have a power that normal people don't have. It is called telepathy. But it is very weak. It's only reliable on people Ah know pretty well. It's how Ah knew mah momma's death wasn't an accident. But who woulda listened to meh. Ah was eleven years old. And mah pappa, well, everybody just loved him. They neveh woulda believed a thing like that. So Ah kept mah mouth shut about it and got away as soon as ah could. It wasn't the only reason Ah wanted out o' there so bad, but that don't matter none, 'cause ya won't have ta deal with that. Mah aunt promised ta take care of ya when Ah die. Ah had her sign papers and everything. But, still, just in case, don't spend much time alone with him, okay?

"Now yoah poppa is a good enough man. He was always good to me. And Ah'm sure he woulda been good to ya'll for as long as yoah abilities didn't come up. But they will, Sugah. That's why Ah left. Yoah a mutant like me. I can feel it. But yoah a different type. Yoah are really special. Not one other person gonna have yoah powers. Ah swear it. Ah'll get to how ah know in a minute, just take meh at mah word for now, okay?

"Now yoah poppa is a powerful man in his own way, not like ya'll be. But, it is related. Yoah poppa is dead set against people like us. Ah didn't know it until Ah knew him real well, because mah powers didn't pick up on it. He will be a danger to ya and others like yoah'self. 'Cause there are more and more of us being born all the time. Pretty soon they'll be debates about it between political candidates on the television. Ah swear it. Yoah poppa fantasizes about it. He knows they'll be sympathizers to us, there always are. It'll be like a race war, he thinks. It'll be like in the fifties and sixties, when people were all in a huff about equal rights and hatin' war an' all. It makes sense. It doesn't take a mind reader, well, let me rephrase that. It doesn't take someone reading the future to pick up on that little bit of insight.

"Ah'm afraid of yoah poppa for yoah sake. Ah knew Ah wasn't going to live through yoah birth within the first trimester. Ah could feel ya tuggin' at me. Ah don't mind. Yoah gonna be worth it. Ya'll make me a right proud momma, Ah just know it. So Ah give myself to ya willingly. Ah push as much of myself into ya with every breath, every word, every thought and every feeling. Ah want ya strong, cause yoah gonna need it. Yoah power won't be easy to hide, like mine. People will know when ya use it, and ya will too. It'll be hard for ya. Even if on accident.

"Yoah power won't be explained away like mine could be. People always pass mine off as meh just knowing people closest to meh so well that Ah can read 'em like an open book. Ya won't have that luxury. So, to protect ya, Ah had to get away. Ah already convinced mah doctor to send word that we both died in the delivery so yoah Poppa don't come chasin' ya down. It took a lot of energy to do that. Ah've known the doocter mah whole life, but ah'd never tried to force a person ta do or think something before. It was the hardest thing ah eveh did. Ah had to be thorough about it too. Ah had to make sure that nothin' would keep him from makin' that call no matter what happens. And Ah am sure he will.

"Only thing ah regret was the amount of energy it took to do it. Ah was wasted afterwards. Ah was actually worried Ah mighta hurt you. But yoah just fine. Still, Ah'm sorry Ah put that energy into something other than ya. Yoah gonna need it, Caitlyn. Yoah gonna need it. It belongs to ya. Ah belong to ya. Ah'm not the least bit worried about dyin' 'cause Ah know yoah gonna take as much of meh inta yoahself as ya can before yoah on yoah own."

Fingers of pain split across Lily's belly and she winced. "Ah know, Sugah, Ah know. It's time."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"My heart shoots straight up in the air when you hold my hand, when you free my mind. But just make sure you're not wastin' time, wastin' time. Answers, answers, yeah you need them now. My heart's abounding, ripping, falling down. Don't expect no answers, don't expect my life. Cause I just need to waste some time, waste some time, time, time, time. Something please come along and rescue me. I need to run away, I need to be free. But just don't rush me, I've never come across this in my life. Well I'm usually random, and I'm rarely right…" (Wastin Time -by The Murmurs)

Jean had carried Rogue to the medlab with her telekinesis. At the same time she contacted the other X-Men, to put them on alert and keep them from interfering, and Logan, for Rogue to draw on his special talents. Beast had carried the unconscious Bobby easily in his arms. By the time they'd all reached the medlab, Logan was waiting for them. He was holding back an irate Gambit, who been feigning sleep again when Bobby alerted Hank, and thus over heard right from the first. He was about at the end of his patience with worry and confusion by the time they all entered the medlab.

"Mon Dieu," Gambit exclaimed when he saw Jean carrying an unconscious Rogue. There was a lot of blood. And it was still spilling from her. It dripped into a puddle within Jean's TK field.

Beast laid Bobby on the examining table as Jean lowered Rogue onto an empty bed. Once Rogue was settled, Jean spun on Gambit and launched a telekinetic field around him to hold him in place.

"Enough!" Jean yelled. She looked to Logan. "Logan, you know what to do."

Jean kept her attention on restraining the Cajun while Logan did his thing.

Hank stood nearby to catch Logan when he passed out from Rogue's power. They were all hoping that he'd only have to graze her skin, just enough to remind her body that she already has access to Logan's resilient healing factor. But when that didn't happen, Logan placed both palms flat against her bared chest and face. He was willing her lungs to work as much as he was giving her the means of making it happen. After a moment, Logan collapsed and Beast caught him. As he tried to make Logan comfortable until he awoke, he was interrupted. He dropped Logan on the ground where he stood and rushed to Rogue's side. She was having convulsions. Blood was pouring down her legs, soaking the sheets.

"Gambit, stop!" Jean demanded as she fought to hold her TK hold on him when he surged at Rogue.

Seeing Rogue convulse with Hank and Jean preoccupied, he'd wanted to rush in and do something, anything to help. Jean knew what deep down he knew as well. Hank, as their only resident doctor at the moment, had to handle it. That's why she was holding Gambit back.

"You are not helping," Jean told him, "You are keeping me from aiding Hank. I will make you leave, or I will put you to sleep if I have to. Stay out of the way."

Reluctantly, Gambit nodded, but Jean could still feel him throbbing against her TK field. Finally, Hank reached Rogue and Gambit went still. Jean released the TK, but kept herself ready to raise it again if Gambit used the opportunity to rush to Rogue again. When Gambit sat down on his own bed, resigned to watch from the sidelines, Jean turned immediately to Rogue's side so that she could aid Hank any way she could.

Hank held a readied adamantium needle over Rogue's flailing body. He looked to Jean and said quite calmly, "Would you do the honors, my dear."

Jean took her cue and held Rogue's body perfectly still with her TK. Hank administered the sedative. Jean was about to release Rogue, when Hank grabbed a second readied adamantium needle and administered another full dose of the sedative. Jean waited this time before she considered releasing the TK field.

"You can release her now," Hank said, though they both watched to see if the sedative had any effect before either spoke further.

Hank continued first, "I had to be sure. Logan's healing factor and all. I wasn't sure if it would take at all."

Jean was about to speak, but Gambit beat her to it. "What's happening, mon ami? Why is Rogue like dis?"

Gambit looked expectantly from Hank to Jean to Hank again. Jean shrugged, unsure herself.

With a glance over at Bobby, Beast answered, "I don't know. We'll have to ask Bobby when he wakes."

Jean then discarded what she was going to say and gave her attention to Gambit so that Hank could set up the appropriate monitoring devices.

"Gambit, you need to calm down," Jean said. "She's stable now."

"You call dat stable?!" Gambit's eyes flared with anger, frustration and concern for Rogue. He took it all out on Jean, "Merde! She was just in convulsions all over de place not just a minute ago. Y' knocked her out. She's breat'ing, her heart's beating, but she isn't stable."

"You're right. I am sorry. But you need to stay calm and let Hank work."

And as if on cue, Hank addressed Jean, "Jean, could you contact Kurt?"

"He's her closest relative," Jean added for him.

"Yes, but more importantly at the moment is access to an inhibitor collar and quickly. I am afraid I cannot complete a proper analysis of her injuries safely without one."

Beast finished hooking up the monitoring equipment then joined Gambit in his silent waiting for Jean's confirmation.

After a few moments, Jean nodded. "He's on his way to Muir Island now to find one," She informed them. "He'll port here as soon as he does."

Gambit let out a sigh of relief. Hank sank into the chair he'd pulled along side Rogue's monitoring equipment.

"We were lucky that I thought to replace the adamantium equipment," Hank said. The steady rhythm of Rogue's heart and lung monitors reassured them that she was alive and holding steady at the moment. "On short notice, in most medical emergencies, surgical steel would've been adequate for everyone on the team. Only Rogue necessitates the adamantium. It wasn't even with her in mind that I'd replaced them. It was merely habit. My credence in Rogue's invulnerability and her healing factor from Logan, not to mention her recent departure, clouded my judgement. I was not prepared to deal with a medical emergency with Rogue." He inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly. "If it weren't for Bobby and Logan, I'm afraid that our resident Southern Belle could have most certainly—"

"Non!" Gambit cut him off, refusing to even hear that possibility mentioned. "Dis is Bobby's fault. He called y' once, den changed his mind. He knew somet'ing was wrong. He knew. He waited to call again till it was almost too late."

Hank took great offense to the accusation Gambit made against his best friend. "He gave her CPR, Gambit. Why do you think he's unconscious now?"

"Don't know for sure, but I aim to find out."

Jean stepped between Gambit and Bobby, blocking Gambit's view of Bobby, then said, evenly, "He did, Gambit. I saw him do it."

Gambit sidestepped, trying to keep Bobby in view.

"Pah!"

His movement had taken Rogue out of his view, so he moved back and sat on his bed. His choice was clear. Rogue was the more important to him.

Gambit got an eyeful of all the blood on Rogue's legs and the bed below her. It, thankfully, had stopped flowing once Logan's healing factor kicked in. But even though it wasn't still seeping out, it was a lot. Staring at it as he was riled him up all over again. He jumped to his feet again so quickly he passed Jean and nearly got up beside Logan before Jean threw a TK field up to hold him.

"What is wrong with you?" Jean demanded.

Gambit gave her a wry grin. "Maybe you just t'ink he give her CPR. All you saw was his lips on hers, n'est-ce pas isn't that it? Somet'ing made her bleed. Someone made her bleed."

Hank, shocked, stood. "You are not suggesting—"

"We all know he's fond of Rogue, neh?" He eyed Hank credulously, "Don't even try to deny it."

"They are close friends, Gambit," Jean assured.

"Really?" The word was slow, drawn out. It was saturated with doubt and sarcasm.

"That's all," Jean repeated sternly.

A familiar SNIKT sliced through their voices from directly behind Gambit.

"He didn't do anything, Bub," Logan said. "He wouldn't. Kid ain't got the brass up to say anything about it since the day he met her then he sure don't got the brass for what you're saying."

"Ain't dat de trut'." Gambit shrugged. A short chuckle escaped him. "Now dat, I believe."

He returned to his bed. Jean and Hank sigh in relief.

"So what's taking the elf?" Logan asked as he sheathed his claws.

"How long have you been awake?" Jean asked Logan.

"Long enough," Logan said with a shrug.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"All through the night I'll be awake and I'll be with you. All through the night… this precious time when time is new. Oh, all through the night today, knowing that we feel the same without saying, 'we have no past, we won't reach back, keep with me forward all through the night.' Until it ends there is no end… Let me be there let me stay there a while…" (All Through the Night -by Cyndi Lauper)

It was a long and terrible birth. Lily's aunt was in the room with Lily as her coach. She'd never before heard curses stream from Lily as right then. Never heard her curse at all before. The curses were dispersed around ramblings and instructions and explanations spat out desperately to Caitlyn. Lily's aunt assumed that was the baby's intended name. Though they hadn't ever determined the sex of the baby.

"Caitlyn's… her… name—aaaarrrggg!" Lily bellowed.

When the contraction ended, Lily continued her ranting.

"Caitlyn's gonna be a spitfire. She ain't gonna put up with crap from nobody. She's gonna be sassyyyyyyyyy!" She hollered through the whole of that one. She didn't even take a breath before she spoke again, beaming, "An' stubborn an' strong."

Then she did take a breath, a deep painful breath.

"An' sweet an' carin' an'—"

Lilly heard the baby's heart monitor go flat.

The doctor exploded into action. He shouted something about emergency C-section and sedation.

No! Yoah gonna do what ya have ta. Whatever it takes!

Flatline.

The nurse tried to inject something into Lily's IV but Lily smacked her away viciously.

Caitlyn yoah a scrapper.

Flatline.

The doctor, ready to make the incision, insisted Lily be under anesthesia so again the nurse attempt the injection. This time, Lily almost fell off the side of the bed when she heaved the nurse away.

"No!" Lily yelped. Lily needed to be awake. It wouldn't work if she wasn't awake.

Yoah a fighter, Caitlyn.

Flatline.

The doctor gave up on the sedation and went for it. Lily's piercing shriek put voice to his long cut across her belly.

Yoah gonna do what ya have ta.

Flatline.

The doctor's hands reached deep into her womb, but Lily dug deeper into desperate, determined resolve.

Whatever it takes!

Blip-------------ip.

The baby's heart monitor beeped, then beeped again. Weak and slow as it was, the sound of Lily collapsing back against the bed in exhaustion drowned it out for a moment. The umbilical had been wrapped around Caitlyn's neck, strangling her. But, now that the doctor had loosened it, the beeping of the monitor got louder and steadier.

Lily's aunt looked to Lily just as Lily's monitor showed one last desperate blip. With one final gasping breath, Lily pushed all of herself, her hopes, her ideals, her strength, her endurance, and her powers, all of it into Caitlyn. She felt it slide through the umbilical into her baby. She tried to hold only one thing back. She held back her memories. It was the one thing she wouldn't give her baby. She wouldn't give Caitlyn the pain her own father had caused her, the pain that stayed with her until her last breath.

Caitlyn's monitor went silent.

Caitlyn was free from Lily so the monitor connected to Lily didn't register a dependent fetus anymore. Caitlyn was living on her own now. Lily's work was done.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Lily's monitor.

Lily's turn to flatline.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—

The nurse turned off Lily's monitor. It's missing keening was replaced by the stressed wail of Caitlyn's first cry.

Lily died at 4:17 PM. Caitlyn Leigh Gyrich was born, via C-section, at 4:19 PM. The doctors were surprised Caitlyn survived her mother's death.

Despite her girth and strong, steady vitals, Caitlyn was kept for two weeks in the hospital. When the doctor sat down with Lily's aunt, her aunt's husband, and Lily's father to discuss the possible complications that could arise from such a premature birth, Lily's aunt paled. She already had four children of her own. Lily's father helped out financially as it was, but a sickly child was more than she could handle. As much as she and her husband hated to do it, they broke their promise to Lily. They gave Lily's father custody of Caitlyn.

There was no other way, Lily's aunt reasoned to herself.

The aunt's two brothers lived very far away and had large families of their own. Lily's father would never allow Caitlyn to go to a stranger when he was quite capable of providing Caitlyn with a family, with necessities, with tutors and servants and proper fineries.

So it was decided. Caitlyn went to live with Lily's father, despite all of Lily's efforts otherwise.

The following day, the doctor made a phone call he didn't even realize he was making.

"Mr. Gyrich? Uh.. Mr. Henry Peter Gyrich?" The doctor asked the young man that had answered the phone. "I have some bad news, Mr. Gyrich. You're wife died in childbirth… a girl, sir… no, sir, the child did not survive…"

There was a long pause, so long that the Doctor thought that maybe the other man had never been on the line to begin with. "Mr. Gyrich?"

"Thank you," the young man said then hung up.

The line was dead, so the doctor did the only thing he could. He hung up the phone. He mailed copies of Caitlyn's birth certificate, Lily's death certificate, and strangely enough, Caitlyn's original, albeit false, death certificate. Then, he went on with his life like the phone call had never occurred. In fact, to his memory, it never did. He never remembered mailing the documents. He never remembered making the phone call. Lily's manipulation had worked.

Henry Peter Gyrich, however, never forgot. When he hung up the phone, he remained in the same seat for hours. He didn't leave his house for a week. He didn't open his door to visitors or concerned friends and family members. He rarely ate. He drank a lot. He didn't grieve. When he sobered, he returned to his previous research and rallies with greater vigor. He attacked life with a bitter mind and a hardened heart.

How dare these mutants live and breed when Lily and my daughter died!

He made it his mantra.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"So I ran faster, but it caught me here. Yes, my loyalties turned like my ankle in the seventh grade, running after Billy, running after the rain. These precious things, let them bleed, let them wash away. These precious things, let them break their hold over me. He,' said you're really an ugly girl.' but I thanked him. Can you believe that, sick, holding on to his picture, dressing up every day? I wanna smash the faces of the beautiful boys…" (Precious Things -by Tori Amos)

Nightcrawler arrived with a stinky brimstone Bamf! He startled the waiting, pacing, fretting X-Men.

Rogue was awake and very mobile. She was currently sulking angrily on her medlab bed. She was dressed in a fresh gown and the sheets had been changed on the bed, but she absolutely, adamantly refused to lie down.

"Ah'm was fine!" She'd exclaimed. She then showed them so when she stomped stubbornly behind a screen to change.

And truthfully, she was fine. Logan's healing factor had repaired the damage she'd suffered and even burned off the sedative an hour earlier than Hank had estimated. The only reason she was still in the medlab was because the small gathering of X-Men threatened her. Bobby and Storm included.

Bobby had awakened without permanent damage, and Storm had arrived shortly after Bobby awoke. Hank refused entrance to any of the other concerned X-Men. The room was crowded enough as it was.

Rogue shrugged off Gambit's attempts to comfort her with a clothing shielded embrace. Eventually, he'd gone to his own bed to sulk.

"What took so long?" Gambit demanded at Kurt's arrival.

Kurt ignored Gambit, but directed his response to the question to Hank McCoy instead, "My deepest apologies, mein gott, but I ran into—"

"Explain it all to us later, my fuzzy friend," Hank said as he took the two inhibitor collars from Kurt, "I do not think Rogue will ingratiate us with her presence for much longer."

Hank eyed the collars before choosing one to use. They'd both seen better days. One of them appeared to have scorch marks on it. Hank raised a quizzical brow to Kurt at their condition.

Kurt opened his mouth to explain with an I-was-trying-to-tell-you look when Hank cut him off.

"Later," Hank told Kurt and turned to Rogue.

Rogue crossed her arms across her chest defiantly and frowned. She didn't prevent him from putting the collar on her, but she wasn't going to help him either.

Hank turned to the awaiting X-Men and said, "I think this would be easier if everyone gave Rogue some privacy."

Jean and Storm wished Rogue good health and left without complaint, as opposed to Bobby and Remy. Bobby stayed right where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed directly beside Rogue's. Gambit hopped off his bed, which was further away, but made no effort for the door.

"I'm not going anywhere, mon ami," Gambit stated flatly. Then he grinned. "'Sides, doctor's orders; I'm confined to de medlab."

"This is stupid," Rogue complained. "Ah'm fine. Wolvie's healing factor done took care of everything."

Bobby stepped forward and spoke softly, "Not everything, Rogue."

Sure he was referring again to what he'd repeatedly called an 'emotional episode' since he'd woken up, Rogue threw him a threatening glare.

"I heard you, Rogue," Bobby insisted. "You said—"

Rogue promptly picked up a small instrument from the examining tray beside her bed and threw it across the room.

"It wasn't me!" She screeched. The last word was punctuated by the clanging of the instrument against the wall. Neither the medlab nor the instrument suffered any damage. Hank was grateful she'd had on the inhibitor collar.

"Chere, y' were bleeding. Mon Dieu! Dere was a lot of blood."

"And it's healed now," she reminded them. Why don't they get that!

Gambit reached out to her for the fourth time since she'd woken up. She wasn't well covered by the flimsy examining gown, but with the collar, her absorption powers offered no threat to him or anyone else. Still, she flinched like he'd struck her when his hands stroked down her arms from behind. Gambit took it personally.

Bobby on the other hand, made the connection. Powers or no powers, touch was bad. He stepped up to Gambit and tugged him back from Rogue, who was still cowering away from Gambit's closeness. Gambit shrugged Bobby off, and glared at him, but Bobby held fast.

"Is there any way this could wait, Hank." Bobby looked at Hank, willing him to understand what he meant.

"Research has proved that injuries from this type of encounter are best…" Hank's words trailed off as it finally dawned on him too.

Hand didn't know for sure what had happened to Rogue, but he'd gotten the gist of it the injury itself, Gambit's accusations, Bobby's delicate phrasing and solemn, steadfast reaction, and Rogue's blunt and bitter refusal.

"It could wait," Hank said, contrasting his previous statement, "Logan's healing factor probably left nothing to clue us in on what the injury exactly was."

"Hopefully," Bobby added.

Gambit, finding it hard to deal with the sudden and drastic change, fired up again, "Wait, what type o' encounter?"

Bobby rolled his eyes at Gambit and sighed. Now he was doing it. Denying the obvious, yet painful truth. Gambit had accused Bobby of similar acts and now he was acting like he had no idea what they were talking about. Bobby had even received a barrage of those insults after he'd awoken. But now that they were actually facing it, actually at the point of dealing with it, examining it, Gambit too was refusing to admit it.

"It don't matter anyway. It wasn't my memory. Ah don't even remember it now, so there's no point discussin' it."

Rogue had spoken her words with surety. She wholeheartedly believed it. Bobby looked to Hank, who raised a brow in understanding.

"You can go," Hank said to Rogue.

"What?" Gambit said. "Why can she go? I have to stay and I wasn't bleeding all over de medlab." Remy approached Hank with a threatening stalk. "Non, she's staying. And not because I have to. You're going to check her out, make sure she's okay."

Rogue, seeing that this was getting her nowhere, that they would argue all night and into the next one if someone didn't put a stop to it, spoke up, "You can examine me in a couple of days, Hank. You were gonna do it anyway. What's one more test?"

"That is acceptable," Hank agreed.

Gambit looked from Hank to Rogue, then nodded. "Fine. But if y' even wince once, y' going straight to Hank."

"Fine, dad," Rogue said mockingly. She didn't see Bobby wince.

As she headed out of the medlab, clutching the not-so-modest examining gown closed behind her, Hank called out, "But you're remanded to bed rest. Skip the tests tomorrow. We'll see how you are the day after, and we'll continue from there."

Rogue rolled her eyes at him as the door closed behind her. Bobby went straight to Hank. Gambit went to his bed and started shuffling cards. Hank didn't even know where he got the cards.

"Maybe you should contact Cecilia or some other female doctor," Bobby suggested. "I'm sure Rogue trusts you, but she may be more open with another female."

"That is sound advice, Bobby. I will contact Cecilia immediately. I'm sure Rogue will appreciate your insight."

"Heh!" Gambit snorted quietly. "Hank's treating y' like de big hero, but y' still haven't told us exactly what happened, mon ami."

"And I'm not going to. If Rogue wants to tell you, fine, but I'm not going behind her back. It's her own private matter."

"Y' saying y' and Rogue are sharing somet'ing private?"

"God, Remy. Put a lid on the testosterone. It's private for Rogue, okay. Let's just say I think the memory is hers. If she wants to share it with you, she will." With that Bobby left.

Remy continued flipping through his cards. Every few moments he sighed heavily and shifted restlessly to punctuate his boredom. Finally, Hank spun on him.

"Go to your room. Bed rest for twenty-four hours. Report here after Rogue is examined."

Gambit grinned mischievously and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"All the world just stopped now… I think there're pieces of me you've never seen. Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen. Well, all the world is all I am. The black of the blackest ocean and that tear in your hand. All the world is danglin', danglin', danglin' for me darlin'. You don't know the power you have with that tear in your hand." (Tear in Your Hand -by Tori Amos)

Several X-Men stopped at Rogue's door over the next twenty-four hours. They were all anxious, concerned and intrigued. "What happened to Rogue?" That was the buzz all over the mansion. Despite their worry for their friend, their teammate, their charge, Jean and the Professor refrained from glimpsing Rogue's thoughts even to ascertain her emotional state. Everyone who did attempt contact with Rogue received a similar response as the Cajun was getting right then. He never was one to listen to doctor's orders.

"Please, chere, talk to me." Gambit pleaded.

"Go away, Remy. Gawd, Ah just wanna be left alone."

"Ma mignonne?" He nearly whimpered. It was rather pathetic.

He was answered with the thump of what he assumed was another stuffed animal being thrown against the door. Gambit sighed and left. He'd just try back again later.

She has to open her door sometime. She has to eat…

Later that night Bobby approached her door tentatively. He carried a tray of food and a request from Hank. He didn't bother knocking. He turned the knob, found it wasn't locked, and paused to announce his entrance. He couldn't just let her sulk in there forever. Besides, he wasn't going to question her. Just leave the food for her, do Hank's bidding, then leave. No questions.

"Rogue, I'm coming in. I've got food. You don't have to eat it, but I'm bringing it in anyway. And Hank…"

He paused and listened. Rogue didn't holler at him like she'd done to everyone else. But, he heard quiet noises from her, nonetheless. He pushed the door open and entered.

"I need to get the inhibitor from you. Hank wants to keep it in the medlab so that—"

Rogue was crying. Her face was damp with tears like she'd been crying for a while. Her eyes were puffy and red. She was sitting on her bed, dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt. She was still wearing the inhibitor collar. In her hands, damp with tears, but surprisingly not smeared, was a letter. On the bed in front of her were two envelopes. One was the envelope that Bobby had teased her with the previous day. He'd convinced himself that the episode that followed that teasing had nothing to do with the letter. He was getting the sneaky suspicion that there was a connection. The second envelope was smaller, and matched the size of the stationary Rogue held in her hand. On this second envelope was feminine handwriting in cursive. Upside down and from this distance, it looked like it said, simply, "Rogue."

Rogue raised her gaze to meet his and sobbed, painfully quietly, "Oh, Bobby…" Her lips parted to say more, but the words didn't seem to want to come out. She held the letter out to him.

Bobby sat down the food tray on the dresser and moved to the bed. He took the letter from her, but paused before reading it.

"You sure?" He asked, giving her an out. He did not want to push her on this subject.

She nodded helplessly and watched him read it. It was from Destiny. The handwriting seemed to match that of the second envelope. It read:

Dearest Rogue,

I sympathize with your fear. Both of us do. We could never bring ourselves to push you in regards to that fear, to make you face it. Instead we pushed in other, perhaps more dangerous directions. It was as much for our plans as it was because we loved you. Never doubt that at least. We did it in spite of what nature and fate had intended for you.

That time is over.

It is time to explore. It is time to remember. It is time to rebuild.

Love, Irenie

Bobby looked up from the letter to Rogue and was at a loss for words. He didn't quite get the connection.

"It was me, Bobby. Ah just know it." Her sobs began to choke her and he sat on the bed beside her.

"I know, Rogue, I know."

He made no move to comfort her. He was just there if she wanted anything from him or anyone else. He was perfectly willing to go fetch Gambit or Storm if she wanted. He was surprised when she thrust her arms around him and clung. That was the only word for it. She clung to him. No, not to him, he realized. She just clung.

"Ah don't remember… But Ah think Ah have to…" she whispered so quietly he almost wasn't sure she admitted it. And her accent was so thick with her excess of emotion, he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. But that wasn't the point. All that mattered was that she said it. That she'd stop denying it.

"…Don't stop now what you're doin', what you're doin' my ugly one. Bring them all here, hard to hide a hundred girls in your hair. It won't be fair if I hate her, if I ate her. You can go now, you can go now. You're already in there. I'll be wearing your tatoo. You're already in there. Got a cloud sleeping on my tongue. He goes and it goes and… Kiss the violets as they're waking up. Leave me with your Borneo. Leave me the way I was before…I'm already in circles and circles and circles again. The girl's in circles and circles—got to stop spinning—circles and circles again. Thought I was over the bridge now, over the bridge now. I'm already in there." (Cloud on My Tongue -by Tori Amos)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued in Chapter 03 - Crazy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOTES:

*Please remember that childish and extreme behavior differences are on purpose. The reason for it will be apparent shortly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~