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Seether

Chapter Ten – Roil

By Randirogue

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"I am not your senorita. I am not from your tribe. In the garden I did no crime. I am not your senorita. I am not from your tribe. If you want inside her well, boy, you better make her raspberry swirl. Things are getting kind of desperate. When all the boys can't be men, everybody knows I'm her friend…" (Raspberry Swirl –by Tori Amos)

"Wakey, wakey, Roguey…"

It was late… about eleven am. It was the day following the memory/dream about Genosha, the tests in the danger room, Nineteen's escape, and the mysterious absorption of Emma's powers. It was two days since Rogue's night out with Bobby, which had all gone to hell when she factored in Eleven's violation of Gambit and other things. It was two-three days since she'd had the second episode which resulted in the Shadow King's escape from his prison on the astral plane and taking up residence inside her own mindscape. It was four-five days total since the first episode, the thing that led everybody to believing she'd been abused as a child.

"Wish they'd all just mind their own business."

"They're just worried, Sugah… They're yoah friends after all."

"Stuff it, Eleven… you're part of the problem."

Rogue pressed both hands to her head trying to remove the ache from it. It didn't help any. The memory/nightmare ripped her up pretty badly and trying to go over the events of the past four or five days wasn't helping any. Way too much had happened in way too short a period of time. The past week was blurring all together as though her mind couldn't process that much personal trauma all at once and believe it had all really happened. All in all, Rogue was about fed up with all of it.

Rogue peeled herself from her bed. She warily removed the blood stained bedding, balled them up and tossed them in a corner. She'd throw them away—No, burn 'em—after she cleaned herself up.

She staggered to the shower. It amazed her that Wolvie's healing factor didn't help wake her up any faster on mornings like these. The shower helped though, especially when she drew on Wolvie's heightened senses to counteract her own invulnerability—the little that it could—so that she could really relish the feel of the searing hot water massaging its way down her aching body.

Aching mind, more like.

Her head was still reeling from the memory/nightmare and Emma's telepathy was on overdrive. Rogue couldn't turn it off. It was taking a great effort to keep the hundreds--feels more like thousands--of thoughts down to a dull roar. Some of the thoughts she couldn't keep down at all. Certain people were pounding at the back of her eyes with a sledgehammer. There was an obvious connection to who those certain people were. They weren't necessarily the people she was closest to, but it was the people she'd known the longest, and had the most involvement with.

At that moment, the loudest and most forceful one was Storm.

"Ah'm coming!" Rogue telepathically screeched to every gathered X-Treme team member when she 'heard' Storm's thought-decision to finally invite Rogue to their meeting. It caught Storm off guard since she hadn't even reached a hand to activate her communicator yet.

Rogue had sensed the team's gathering conversation as soon as she had woken up… And Storm was just now contacting Rogue to join them. It ticked her off that Storm hadn't bothered to try and tell her about the meeting until well after the meeting had technically begun.

"Can't a girl shower in peace?" Rogue added as she furiously scrubbed the last of the dried blood from the inside of her thighs. She was tired of having to do that, too. That was the second time this week. The first, obviously, was when she'd survived the first episode that brought all this attention to Rogue and her past and her powers.

"Remy could come back dere and help y' out if y' want." Gambit teased. Rogue even saw, through her telepathic mind's eye, his cocky devil-may-care grin that accompanied his thought. It actually lightened her mood a little. But just a little.

"Ah think ah can handle it, Remy. All these powers have to be good for something, ya know."

Rogue heard his mental chuckle in response. She sighed. She was glad that he hadn't continued the banter. Even that was too much for her right then.

Rogue focused on blocking out their minds. She didn't want to know what they were thinking about her right then… They had purposely started the meeting without her.

Ah hope Storm's gonna say we're taking off again… Ah really needed something else to focus on. She kept that thought to herself as she tried to blank out all the individual voices slamming into her. If she couldn't stop it completely she at least wanted to try to get all the voices to blend like a sort of crowd static.

Rogue knew all to well how the onset of an Alpha class telepathic power felt. She'd heard Jean talk about her powers, saying how they sometimes made her feel like she was sitting in the middle of a Super Bowl game, right on the field with the players. The players on the field, the ones ramming into each other and sometimes into her, were a mixture of the people she knew the best and the longest as well as those closest to her, vicinity-wise. But that was only how it became after the power had been there awhile, after control had been honed. When the power was new, when her biology was adjusting to it being added to her genetic cocktail, it was much, much different. It was much harsher.

New Alpha class telepathic powers were a constant rush. A painful rush. Instead of being a person in the field of the Super Bowl, the telepath's mind was a doorway, the only doorway in a grand sold-out theater in which someone had just screamed 'FIRE!' Everyone was trying to get through the telepath's mind all at once. It wasn't pretty.

Rogue was getting another dose of that right then because of having absorbed Emma the evening before. It felt like all of the people from Westchester to New York City and beyond were trampling each other to fit through her mind. Thousands of people were rushing her all at once. Knowing that it wouldn't last too long wasn't much consolation at the moment. Still, once her own biology had adequately assimilated Emma's powers, it would simmer down to what Jean's or Xavier's powers were… completely controllable. Even better, she could turn it on and off at whim, like she did with Jean's and Xavier's telepathy, like she did with all the powers she'd absorbed. Until then, she'd just have to live with it. It wasn't fun.

Offhandedly, Rogue wondered, How much worse it could be for an Omega class telepath. Would it feel like a million people rushing through? More? Or would it be different altogether

Rogue wasn't sure. The Shadow King was Omega class. He'd been inside Rogue under his own powers, but she'd never absorbed him with her own powers. She was glad she never had absorbed him. She didn't think she ever wanted to find out what that would be like. Not that she would ever be able to. Not anymore, at least. The Shadow King was the only known Omega class telepath and he was permanently imprisoned on the astral plane.

Rogue's alpha class telepathy behaved no differently than any other alpha class telepathy… Except for one thing. She had more than one alpha class telepathic power. If she were to ever access and activate more than one of those telepathic powers at once… Would it feel like an Omega class telepathy does? Would it be worse? …Well, lets just say that Rogue never ever wanted to even consider what that would feel like.

Giggle.

"Can it."

"Oops! Ya heard meh?" That time Eleven was careful to keep the thought from Rogue's awareness.

"Yeah, Ah did." It didn't work, Rogue heard her.

Eleven clamped down as hard as she could, trying once again to keep Rogue from hearing her thoughts. "This too?!"

"Uh-huh."

"Damn it!"

"Ya got that right, Sugar."

"Screw ya."

If Eleven had a physical body form with legs and arms and fists, she would have stomped and kicked and punched anything she could reach. But she had none of those things. So, she let go of the little form she had, that of the shimmering cloud, and dispersed into nothing.

Eleven didn't understand how Rogue could hear her even though she didn't want her to. That had never happened before, and she couldn't conceive of what incited this change. The only thing that was different was what had happened last night with Emma. Last night, she found out that she didn't have control of Emma's ghost or catch. That was infuriating her. Eleven was supposed to have control. Not control of Rogue, though she had gotten good at pushing Rogue's buttons. But she had power control. Whatever she could access, she could control. IT had helped her learn that control. IT had taught it to her while she was growing up in the isolated Core. She'd kept it when she'd escaped the Core all those years ago. Granted, she was lessened when Emma and Jean had re-shielded the Core. That had effectively severed her from the rest of the Core, from the rest of herself that still remained inside the Core. But, she still had control.

Until now, it seemed.

Oh, but she would get it back. Somehow, some way, she would get it back. Or at the very least, she'd get revenge.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"And thoughts you thought you'd never tell. Line me up in single file with all your grievances. Stare, but I can taste you're still alive below the waste. Ripples come and ripples go and ripple back to me ...The Lord of The Flies was diagnosed as sound. " (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

A few hours earlier…

"…but I don't feel comfortable with the idea of her coming along with us," Neal said.

They were sitting around the living room area of a posh hotel suite in New York City that Remy had appropriated for them to use. Remy was at the table, his back to the corner so that there were no doorways behind him. He was shuffling a deck of cards, a ringing ffflllllppp, resounding off the glass top. Sage was poised on the other side of the table. She leaned one elbow on the glass and watched the gathered group with a thoughtful expression. She had yet to speak up. Neal was also at the table with Sage and Remy, though he'd pulled his chair out and angled it so that he wasn't blocking Remy in and was still able to face the others. Bishop was sitting on a love seat, his grim expression poignantly surveying the other occupants, the windows, the sliding glass door to the balcony, the bathroom entrance, the bedroom entrance, and the door to the hall. Storm was in the love seat that was a twin of the one Bishop sat in. However, where he was stiff and on edge in his alertness, Storm was pensive, sober and serene in her observances.

"I am having the same concerns, Neal," Storm said, her expression unchanging. "That is why I have asked you here before bringing Rogue into the meeting. I would like to hear all of your opinions on the matter."

"For me, it's simple, Stormy," Gambit said. He paused and grinned at her, waiting for her usual complaint about the nickname. She raised an eyebrow, signifying that she was not in the mood for games, so he relaxed his cocky grin and said, "I go where Rogue goes."

Bishop raised an eyebrow at that. "You are proposing an ultimatum, LeBeau? You think your involvement is that crucial? If you remember properly, you were not part of our original search. You merely tagged along after we pulled your butt out of the fire with that whole wanted for murder thing. Or did you think we had forgotten that?"

"Non, dat's not what I meant at all," Remy said. Ffffllllppp. "T'ough, if y' do remember right, Stormy did invite me in de beginning, but Rogue asked me to stay behind. She's de only reason I didn't come along in de first place." Remy narrowed his eyes on Bishop as he continued, "Mais don't get me wrong, Pup. Gambit was never far behind y'. Gambit knew where y' were and what y' was doing." He leaned back, almost lounging back into his chair and flashed Bishop a cocky grin when he said, "Gambit even pay a li'l visit to Vargas."

"How'd you manage doing that without getting killed, Gambit?" Bishop asked suspiciously. "He defeated Rogue, nearly killed Hank and, did in fact kill Psylocke, all in the span of about an hour, yet you beat him? You expect us to believe that?"

"Oui… and non. We didn't fight."

"Then what did you do?" Bishop countered in a threatening tone. 'Compare notes on how to spy on the X-Men' was implicitly implied in Bishop's gaze. The accusation was not lost on Gambit.

Gambit's reaction was instantaneous. It was silent. Nothing changed outwardly, it was all inwardly, but suddenly Gambit was a different person. He was suddenly hard, unforgiving, ruthless, fierce, and dangerous. His eyes were cold, dull, the onyx swallowing up the ruby. His grin hadn't even changed, but now it was no longer suave and cocky, it was menacing. His easy lounging posture hadn't budged, yet he now seemed like he was about to launch out of the chair and pounce on Bishop.

Neal actually flinched. Sage sat back and eyed Gambit in interest, studying him like he was a newly discovered organism. Bishop fingered his ever-present gun in his lap. Storm stood and was about to speak when…

Wolverine closed the door behind him and stalked into the room. He took one look at Gambit's defensive visage, and knew that someone had pricked the Cajun's pride… and maybe more. "Hehe… Did I start a trend?" Wolverine said, trying to diffuse the tension before Gambit did pounce on Bishop.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh my stars and garters…" Beast exclaimed in a hushed voice. What he had just noticed was so surprising and disturbing he didn't have the strength of breath to make it come out as much more than a whisper.

He'd woken up early that morning, anxious to continue working on the Rogue mystery. While examining the columns of readings from the personas, what he and Xavier had assumed was the Core, and her powers, he had a brilliant idea for testing the collars. There was something still bothering him about them. Sinister would in no way have given the collars up for Rogue to use without gaining something from doing so. So, he ran simulations while hooking the collars up to a relay system which linked the information contained in the columns through the collars.

There was a reaction.

Each collar actively interacted with the Shiar based coding network of specific columns. Not all of the columns were effected, but a good majority of them were.

Hank grinned. Not as well read as you boast, huh Essex, Hank joked to himself while at the same time feeling a little bit proud that he knew at least a few things about Rogue that Sinister apparently did not. Hank wasn't normally a very competitive person, but his years in the X-Men definitely helped bring out his appreciation of having one-upped an enemy.

The discovery of Sinister's purpose for the collars put him in a grand mood.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"So don't give me respect, don't give me a piece of your preciousness. Flaunt all she's got in our old neighborhood, I'm sure she'll make a few friends. Even if the rain bows down, let us pray as you cock-cock-cock your mane…" (Cruel –by Tori Amos)

"Ah promise Ah'll do better next time," Nineteen wailed, her chickory voice thick and rasping from crying. "Ah'll make it worse," she said, managing to regain her fervor. She yanked harshly on the leashes, making the cowering pets jerk closer to her. "They'll do what Ah tell 'em. They'll do more."

Well, isn't this interesting, Emma's ghost mused to herself as she watched from behind one of the cherry trees. In her left peripheral was the persona, who Emma's ghost figured out to be Nineteen. The never-truly-seen entity was on her hands and knees. Her fists were balled, clutching handfuls of dirt and fallen petals. Her tri-echo form was shaking. It was a dizzying sight to behold.

At first, when Emma's ghost came upon the orchard, and eventually Nineteen, she'd figured that Nineteen was speaking to her pets. Then as she listened in longer, she'd figured that Nineteen was a slightly mad persona and was talking to her self. When she heard Eleven's familiar voice coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, she'd finally understood that Nineteen was actually speaking to Eleven. Nineteen was being punished for something that Eleven had deemed a less than worthy performance.

"Like that wouldn't make her suspicious," came Eleven's shimmering voice, emanating from everywhere and nowhere. "Damn, yoah ignorant! Yoah stupid an' yoah a coward. No wondah ya got locked up in the Core ovah some measly jeering an' pawing."

Nineteen shimmered as though Eleven had infused her cloud form in her and had attacked her from within. Nineteen shuddered. A moment later, Nineteen's elbows buckled and her face careened to the ground.

"I can be cruel. I don't know why. Why can't my ba.ll.oo.n stay up in a perfectly windy sky? I can be cruel, I don't know why, I don't know why…" (Cruel –by Tori Amos)

"Ah was raped," Nineteen whimpered.

"Ya were not."

"It felt like rape to me." Nineteen had spoken it so quietly, Emma's ghost almost didn't catch it, "It was rape… to me."

"Ah don't care how YA feel. Ya were supposed ta make HER hurt. Ya were supposed ta make HER believe they had raped HER."

"She does think that. Ah know she does," Nineteen wailed.

"It wasn't good enough! She's still too strong!"

"It wasn't my fault. It was that ssscoundralll."

Nineteen shimmered again, then collapsed hard on the ground again. She raised her head slowly, the fight all but gone from her.

"Ah'm sorry. Ah don't know what else to say… Ah'll do whatever ya want, whatever ya tell me." Nineteen pleaded pathetically.

"Oh, Ah'm sure ya will. Ah'm sure ya will."

Nineteen shimmered once more, but the shimmering traveled into the vine like leashes. The leashes sprung to life, coiled around Nineteen, wrapping her like a mummy. No, not a mummy,*Emma's ghost realized when she saw the coils constrict on Nineteen, Like a snake.

"...Dance with the Sufis, celebrate your top ten in the charts of pain. Lover, brother, bogenvilla, my vine twists around your need. Even the rain is sharp like today as you sh-sh-shock me sane… I can be cruel." (Cruel –by Tori Amos)

Nineteen convulsed, completely out of control.

Giggle. The laughter was just a bit mad.

"What ya up to, Eleven?" Rogue asked. "Ah can hear ya giggling, but Emma's causing an awful lotta static right now…"

"Oh, nothin', Sugah. Nothin' at all…"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...And thoughts you thought you'd never tell. Line me up in single file with all your grievances. Stare, but I can taste you're still alive below the waste. Ripples come and ripples go and ripple back to me …The Lord of The Flies was diagnosed as sound. " (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

Gambit eased back on the couch, into a more relaxed veneer once Storm managed to calm down the tension. He'd gotten up from the table when he saw Wolverine sit on the couch, when he realized the last remaining seats were on the couch with Wolverine, when he realized the only expected persons not in attendance were Rogue… and Bobby.

Gambit had been the one to invite Bobby. And though he was actually pushing for Bobby to be brought along when they left again, he really didn't want Rogue getting cozy on the couch between Bobby and Wolverine. Everything that he had witnessed between them still stung, so he took care of the discomforting possibility of the seating arrangements by taking up a seat on the couch. Now there was only a half chance that Rogue would sit on the couch as well. And if she did, well, Gambit would be there too.

Is dat y' Onze? Or is dat Remy's own thoughts and feelings? He half projected it. He was feeling hypocritical over his jealousy, considering his own indiscretions, and almost liked the idea of having Eleven to put the blame on. When he didn't get the expected giggle or jaunt from Eleven, Gambit gave a mental shrug and thought, Guess y' busy bugging someone else.

As for Wolverine's attending the meeting… Gambit had known that he would be attending; Gambit didn't like it, he'd argued against it, but Storm reminded him that Wolverine would be the only person they would keep any contact with while they were out chasing down the diaries. Just like before [1].

"…to agree that Rogue deserves to be involved," Neal was saying. "They were her foster parents."

"Heh," Logan huffed with a smirk, "I'd like to see you keep her from goin'. If you don't take her with you she'll just go off on her own."

"Non, homme, I'll go wit' her," Gambit smirked, "Or follow her. Be a nice view either way."

"Remy," Storm warned, trying to maintain the seriousness of the meeting. He must be really bothered by all that's been going on lately. That was usually the case when he cracked inappropriate jokes like that. Something else was going on, something he was concealing from his fellow team members. At least he isn't as bad about the jokester antics as Bobby. Bobby, Rogue, and Gambit on this trip... It's exhausting just thinking about it.

Then Neal said, "Hey, you think there's a connection between the diaries and what's going on with Rogue?"

Everybody just stared at Neal like he'd grown a second head.

"What?" Neal looked defensively at the varying surprised and dawning expressions on everyone's faces. "It's not that absurd of an idea," he said, misinterpreting their reaction. When still no one responded, he began to sulk, "It was just an idea."

"It makes sense," Logan said, eyeing Storm.

"Wonder why we didn't think of that before," Bishop grumbled.

"I have to admit that I had my suspicions that the diaries involved Rogue," Storm said, her brow furrowing in contemplation, "But I do not understand why I did not consider this particular connection myself. I am the most well versed in the diaries thus far."

"Don't feel bad, Stormy," Gambit said with a wry grin, "I don' t'ink it be y' fault. Onze's real good wit' dem catches. Gambit t'ink it's a good bet dat Onze's been messing wit' all o' us."

Gambit's gaze flickered to Wolverine for just a moment. Wolverine caught it and gave a slight nod of agreement. There was a touch of annoyance in Wolverine's nod. Sure he'd agreed, he'd consented. But still, he and Rogue had nevertheless been manipulated by Eleven.

Gambit continued, "Onze may not always be subtle, but she can be when she wants to be."

"That doesn't explain why Sage has not thought of it, Gambit," Bishop countered. "Rogue has never absorbed Sage so there is no catch to manipulate her with."

"Why do you think I didn't think of it?"

All eyes moved to Sage.

"Why y' not bring it up, den?" Gambit asked with incredulity.

"The topic had not been broached," Sage stated simply. There was no defense in her tone, no eagerness either. It was flat and even. "You have been discussing the reasons not to include her and I was considering all of your arguments for the case. And, I might add, they are all sound." Sage bounced the foot of her crossed over leg, picking off the arguments with each bounce, "Rogue is unstable right now. Mentally and physically. Even with Wolverine's healing factor she has had need of medical attention in the last week. There will not be any likely access to a medical facility that will be prepared to treat her if she were to need one again. Hank will not be joining us so that puts Rogue's well being at an undeniable risk."

She paused to let that sink in a moment.

Wolverine took advantage of the pause to mention something he'd been meaning to bring up since before he left the mansion. With a grim face, he said, "I smelled Rogue's blood this morning."

"What?" Gambit bolted upright. "And y' just now t'ought to mention dat?"

"Take it easy, Gumbo, I checked it out." Wolverine said. "She's fine. It wasn't fresh. I listened from outside her door for her heart rate and her breathing and they were fairly normal. They were only heightened like she was having a bad dream or something. Whatever it was, she'd healed it."

Remy thought of the dream that Eleven had made him witness. He'd considered mentioning it to the others, but decided that he should leave it to Rogue. It was her memories, after all. And they were not something a person wanted to see his loved one go through. It had been a torture for him, in many ways, close to being as equal a torture as it had been for her. But, the part at the end? The part when they floated in what felt like their own universe, when she didn't flinch from his touch, when she snuggled close to him? That brought a smile to his face.

Then he remembered what had caused the dream to come to mind. Rogue was bleeding for real… Dat not a good sign… Qu'est-ce que psychosomatic? For some reason Gambit didn't think it was that simple, that ordinary—not that psychosomatic injuries were that run of the mill. It had to be more. Qu'est-ce que Onze? …Somet'ing else…? It wasn't even the first time it had happened.

"…as well as another evolution of her powers," Sage was saying.

Gambit returned from his thoughts to hear that Sage had continued listing off the strikes against Rogue that they had already debated.

"It is necessary for Hank to help her through this, but can we afford to wait for him to draw his conclusions? There is no telling how long Hank's research will take, even with my help. And it is most definitely not expedient for me to continue devoting so much of my time on the research while we travel. Moreover, there is reasonable doubt to suggest that this may not be the end of the evolution of her powers."

Sage almost brought up what she had discussed with Xavier and Hank about the Core and the additional 'latent' powers, but decided to hold that back until she had done her own independent research into that. For some reason, she didn't think Xavier was a very biased source on that topic. He'd been holding onto his theories for quite some time and she did not think he'd released them all to her—or Hank for that matter—yesterday, after the danger room tests.

"It was difficult enough as it was when she was trying to deal with the powers randomly surfacing," Sage again continued. "This next step, though unlikely related to Z'Cann's initiated changes in her powers, is even more volatile and unstable. If there is another one, it is likely to be even more so. I do not want her begging me to release another switch [2]. It isn't safe, especially since she is so unstable. For all I know, my actions may have set off what is occurring now. I highly doubt it, but nothing is impossible at this stage.

"Then there are the personas to contend with. So far there's Eleven and Nineteen, both of which are aggressive to say the least. Will there be more? I think it's likely. There are several incidents in Rogue's past that could warrant more representatives."

She looked around the room. Even Gambit was beginning to look as though he'd decided against Rogue's continued involvement.

"I could go on," Sage offered in her even tone.

"Don't t'ink dat be necessary, Sage," Gambit said, slumping slightly as he leaned back against the couch again. He looked as though he personally felt the weight of all her points against Rogue resting on his own shoulders as though they were his problems.

Well, if it was Rogue, then it was Gambit too.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I am not asking you to believe in me. Boy, I think you're confused. I'm not Persephone. Foam can be dangerous with tape across my mouth. These things I do I never asked you how…" (Pandora's Aquarium --by Tori Amos)

Xavier was questioning Beast's success with his research on the collars via telepathy.

"The collars specifically promote certain aspects of Rogue's powers," Hank said, then checked his notes before continuing, "and her shielding too, it seems. I estimate the purpose is to draw those aspects out, strengthening them. Though that wouldn't help put her in his control. I would venture to say that making her stronger would do the opposite, actually."

"I agree with that assessment, Hank," Xavier said. "But if that is the case, then the collars must do more than just that."

"They also monitor and transmit data, Professor. It's likely he knows as much as we do now."

"That is disconcerting, Hank," Xavier said. "Does it just monitor or does it interact?"

"Interact, I'm afraid. With one in particular."

"Eleven, I presume."

"Yes, Professor."

"Eleven has access to the catches, right? Does this give Essex access to them?"

"I'm not sure, but it is highly possible. I could run some tests?"

"Do that, Hank. I'll check up on your progress later."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Pandora. Pandora's aquarium. She dives for shells with her nautical nuns and thoughts you thought you'd never tell…" (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

Giggle. It had a slightly wilder edge to it than usual.

Let's see… Catches… Remy, Jean, Scott, Logan, Storm, Bishop, Bobby--

Sigh.

--Warren, Kurt, Kitty, Mystique, Avalanche, Blob, Juggernaut, Toad-who cares, Magneto, Havoc—is he still alive somewhere—Xavier, Hank, Emma—sort of— Sabretooth, dead, Phalanx—that could be interesting—Irene, human, She-Hulk, human, human, who cares, who cares again, dead, human, again, Thor, Wanda, Pietro, Vision, Jubilee, human, ugh who cares, dead, dead, dead, dead, human, Bella Donna, Cassandra, Dazzler, Longshot, Beyonder, Mephistopheles, Gladiator… Gawd, this could go on foh days [3].

Giggle. It was a little maddening.

"Would ya stop with all that gigglin'. Ya tryin' ta drive meh nuts or something?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...With your E's and your ease and I do one more. Need a lip gloss boost…" (iieee --by Tori Amos)

"Emma-ma-ma-ma… We-e-e-e need-d-d-d your-r-r-r help-lp-lp-lp," said four voices.

Emma's ghost turned to see four figures step from the deep shadows. They only moved forward enough for Emma's ghost to see their silhouettes and a hint of what covered them. Fine mesh webbing draped them like tattered shrouds. Their faces were covered, but their bulk and their curves told her they weren't figures of Rogue.

"Rogue-gue-gue-gue needs-s-s-s your-r-r-r help-p-p-p."

Emma's ghost raised an eyebrow as if to say 'you've got to be kidding me.'

"IT-T-T-T brought-ought-ought-ought you-ou-ou-ou so-o-o-o you-ou-ou-ou could-d-d-d help-lp-lp-lp."

"Let me guess," Emma's ghost said, "Union?"

"Eleven's-vens-vens-vens lying-ing-ing-ing."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...And thoughts you thought you'd never tell. Line me up in single file with all your grievances. Stare, but I can taste you're still alive below the waste. Ripples come and ripples go and ripple back to me …The Lord of The Flies was diagnosed as sound. " (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

"…but you do think that Rogue's current circumstances have something to do with the diaries, yes?" Storm asked Sage.

"It does make sense," Sage said with a hint of sarcasm. "Think about it. Rogue was nobody. A backwoods runaway nobody. And Mystique's definitely not the type to take in strays. Mystique tossed one of her kids over a cliff to save her own hide. She gave another one up for adoption, then shot him point-blank when he got a little too big for his britches. With those two things in mind, I would propose that it's safe to assume that Mystique is not exactly the motherly type. Yet, she sought out Rogue before her powers manifested. She trained Rogue in espionage, covert operations, and combat fighting. Remember? She was trained well enough to beat the X-Men all by herself, and this was before she begged Xavier for help with her powers. She was only seventeen when she joined the X-Men. And when she did, she completely turned her back on what Mystique had been training her for. No doubt, that training included thievery, arms, probably as a sniper too, and intelligence networks and strategy."

Sage paused then and took in the entire group, "Have any of you ever inquired into exactly what skills she mastered while under Mystique's tutelage?"

Even Storm had a sheepish edge to her blank response. None of them had ever asked about it. They had watched Rogue closely until she'd finally grown on them, but that growing-on-them had included not one display of the skills that Mystique had ingrained in her.

"Are you suggesting she's hid these things from the X-Men all this time?" Bishop asked, his anger rising.

There had been rumors about Rogue in Bishop's time, unpleasant things, but he had never considered her for a possible traitor. In his time, she had been remembered as having been completely accepted by the X-men. They had considered her one of their most powerful and loyal members. More than once, she had lead offshoot teams. But all of these things were in Bishop's own past and it was unpredictable as to whether any of it would come true in this time. The knowledge of these events that he had grown up learning was part of poorly documented history to him. It was very possible that parts of these records were missing things or purposely misdirecting… especially since most of the ones he'd read were made accessible to him by LeBeau, the Witness.

Storm spoke up for Rogue that time, "If she has, in fact, purposefully concealed these skills from us, we would have to accept some of the blame for it as well. We did not make things easy on Rogue when she first joined."

Wolverine shifted in his seat as he remembered how he had distrusted Rogue when she first joined, only to be proven wrong by her nearly sacrificing her own life to save his life and Mariko's life from a shot from Viper's weapon. The weapon had been designed to take out Wolverine, to outdo his healing factor. Rogue's invulnerability held out against the energy weapon at first, but Viper kept firing, and eventually Rogue fell. Wolverine kissed her to transfer his healing factor to her. He'd gambled that his healing factor, combined with her invulnerability would be enough to save her. It was… but barely. Rogue didn't recover very quickly.

From that day on, Wolverine had trusted her.

"Remy know what dat feel like. Y' keep de scarier t'ings locked inside so dey don't kick y' out. But y' always hoping y'll get de chance to release dem. T'ings like dose be a part of y', like riding a bike. Y' don't just forget. And every once in a while y' itch to use dem."

Storm eyed her friend with compassion. "That does make sense, Remy," she said, then turned her attention back to Sage to encourage her to continue with her assessment. "So, we all admit that Rogue was trained by Mystique to aid her in her terrorist campaigns."

"Very well trained, I would say. To what extent, I can't say without seeing her perform, of course. But, she was with Mystique for several years. She was Mystique's prize possession, her secret weapon against the X-Men and anti-mutant factions within the government. You may know her as the fiery, short-tempered, impulsive, brash—"

"We get de point, Sage," Remy said, cutting off her soon becoming less and less positive assessment of Rogue's personality.

Sage glared at him momentarily for interrupting her, then continued, "As I was saying… as a scrapper with compassion, heart and strength in near equal amounts. But all of you don't view her as particularly intelligent. Not that you see her as dumb by any means. But you let her accent and her rashness cloud your opinion of her intelligence. She may not be on a par with Xavier's or even Hank, but I would say she is much more intelligent than any of you believe she is. If she was not, if she could not have survived the training that Mystique had been giving her... I seriously doubt Mystique would have continued training her if Rogue did not excel in it. Mystique would not have fought so hard to retrieve her from Xavier after Rogue had run away."

"Rogue has often spoke of their having a dysfunctional, but oddly caring relationship," Storm offered. "She views Mystique as her mother and Mystique sees Rogue has her daughter."

"A mot'er dat has a knife made of adamantium just to kill her daughter with," Gambit spat out.

"But she knew Rogue would survive," Wolverine said. Gambit glared at him, but Wolverine brushed it off, saying, "I ain't faulting yer point, Gumbo, but that conversation you and Storm had with Mystique when you were planning on killing her in the hospital was in the diary Kitty had, just like Mystique said it was. All I'm saying is that she knew Rogue would live."

"He is correct, Remy," Storm said, "I have read those pages myself."

"I'm not following you guys, what does this have to do with what the diaries are about?" Neal asked.

"Seems to me, maybe Mystique and Irene had another motive for taking Rogue in," Wolverine said, "Something they saw in the diaries, maybe? Is that what yer saying, Sage?"

"It is a logical theory," Storm said.

"But one that is not supported by the diaries we now possess," Bishop reminded them. "We have no proof to back this up."

"True, but it—"

"Uh, Stormy, Gambit hate to interrupt, but we may have a bit of dat proof y' need," Gambit said from behind a curtain of his red-brown bangs.

"What do ya know, Gumbo?" Wolverine asked. His voice showed the stirrings of his anger. If Gambit knew something, he could've prevented all their debating and offered it up at the beginning. The fact that Gambit hadn't brought it up only made him suspicious of the information… and how the information was discovered.

"Dere's a letter from Irene to Rogue," Gambit said and paused waiting for questions to burst at him. They didn't come, so he continued, "It talks about t'ings dat seem real similar to what's going on wit' Rogue now… Vargas sent it to her."

Gambit again expected them to explode into accusations and admonishments with that last sentence, but they all stayed quiet… as if they were waiting for something.

Finally, Neal said, "Well, do you have it?"

"Non," Gambit said and they all released expressions of annoyance, so Gambit explained. "It's in her room."

"So, we'll just ask her to bring it with her," Bishop said matter-of-factly.

Gambit frowned, "We can't."

Logan chuckled. He just knew it. There had to be a reason Gambit hadn't offered that up before then.

Gambit glowered at him, but it wasn't hateful. It was sort of a 'yeah y' caught me so stuff it already' sort of glower. He added the admission right after the glower, "She don't know I read it."

Logan broke out in laughter, "You broke into her room didn't you, Gumbo. She's gonna tan yer hide when she finds out. If she doesn't know already. She's got my senses, remember?"

Gambit responded with bitter sarcasm, saying, "Ha-ha, Logan, laugh it up." He hardened again then, not so dangerously as before with Bishop. It was to a much lesser degree. Still, the change was there nonetheless. "It was during y'r patrol last night," he said. "Gambit saw y' pacing under her window. Mais, y' never sensed me on de roof outside her window, did y'?"

"Will she bring the letter voluntarily, Gambit," Storm said, breaking through their quite petty duel.

"Don't know, Stormy. Bobby knows about it, t'ough. He'd be y' best bet in bringing it up."

"Guess it's a good thing you invited him, then, isn't it?" Storm said with an appreciative smile for her close friend. He really did have a good idea when he suggested bringing Bobby along to keep Rogue more level headed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Is it your's sweet saliva with your E's and your ease and I do one more. I know we're dying and there's no sign of a parachute. We scream in cathedrals. Why can't it be beautiful? Why does there gotta be a sacrifice? Just say yes…" (iieee --by Tori Amos)

"Eleven's-vens-vens-vens lying-ing-ing-ing," they said with more urgency when Emma's ghost hadn't responded right away.

Emma's ghost had been pondering that weighty statement, but when the shrouded group had repeated it she gave them an annoyed 'I heard you' glare.

Finally, Emma's ghost asked, "Union will hurt Rogue?"

"No-o-o-o." A warm glow undulated from them, lifting the webbed shrouds an inch or so outward of them. It was as though the glow was a physical thing, as though it had engorged their bodies, giving the webbed shrouds more mass to cover. The glow broke through the spaces between the web strands like sunlight breaking between layered clouds. "Union-ion-ion-ion will-ill-ill-ill help-lp-lp-lp."

Emma took the theatrics as them taking offense at her suggestion. She was right. Oh well. They'll just have to live with it.

"Eleven-ven-ven-ven isn't-nt-nt-nt Eleven-ven-ven-ven."

There went that eyebrow of hers again. "Then who is she?"

The light faded back like clouds shifting, keeping the sun from shining though. The shrouds returned to their original covering as though the things they covered had been drained, shrunken. Their voices were sad when they said, "We-e-e-e don't-nt-nt-nt know-ow-ow-ow. IT-T-T-T won't-nt-nt-nt tell-ell-ell-ell us-s-s-s."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"..Moving forward using all my breath. Making love to you was never second best. I saw the world crashing all around your face, never really knowing it was always mesh and lace…" (I Melt With You --by Modern English)

Bobby couldn't get the dream he'd had the night before out of his head.

Right then, he was in the danger room, hooked up to a bunch of those remote sensors that Hank had used on Rogue and Logan the day before. He was running simulations with his powers with and without wearing the collars given them by Sinister. Hank had explained the tests to him, and some part of Bobby's brain had listened, had heard, had cared, had understood. But that part of his brain was way in the back of his mind while most of his thoughts were consumed with the replaying of the dream, that wonderful dream from the night before.

In the dream, he was in an icy wonderland. Snow covered the ground in a velvety blanket. He was in a small forest, or maybe orchard, it was hard to determine which. It was grand in size, but the trees were barely two times his height. The spiny trees were iced as though they were really ice sculptures. There was a spindly iced dome overhead. Its surface was fractured, or rather it was like it was made up of an intricate, utterly random, lace design, with large holes between the delicate icy twines of silk. Moonlight glinted off all the icy surfaces around him like diamonds were imbedded everywhere.

As he wandered happily through the frozen wonderland, his breath escaped him without the puffy clouds that most people got.

"Icicle, Icicle, where are you going…[4]" the whispered words licked his ears as they cut through the brisk air. He spun around, but found nobody there.

The whispers continued, "Icicle, Icicle, where are you going…" [4]

He continued wandering, but now it was a game, he was looking for the owner of that sweet voice that was taunting him.

"I have a hiding place when spring marches in…" [4]

He moved around one tree, sure she was there… but wasn't.

"Will you keep watch for me…" [4]

He saw a flash of light and a hint of the color of flesh move behind the tree up ahead. There was a snow bank just beyond it. He sneaked up to it.

"I hear them calling…" [4]

He peaked around the tree.

"Gonna lay down…" [4]

He saw her there, on the snow bank, lying down on it… in it. The flurries were soft enough, fresh enough, that they covered over her slightly as she lied down.

"Gonna lay down…" [4]

He joined her on the bank by her side.

He marveled at how the stripe in her hair blended so smoothly into the snow. It was as though she were a creature of it, like him. And how the auburn was almost garnet in color against all that white. It was breathtakingly beautiful to him. Her skin, what he could see of it on her face and neck and a small portion of her chest that gave him just the slightest hint of her cleavage, reminded him of flushed peaches. The rest of her was covered in a gauze-like gown of the finest gossamer silk. It was white like the snow and the stripe in her hair. It had silver embroidery in as intricate and delicate a pattern as the dome above them. Diamonds were sewn into the pattern so that they twinkled with her emerald eyes and glinted like the moonlight off their icy world. And her hands, her hands were covered in lace gloves made of ice so finely spun that the ice was the pliable threading of the silk. He could feel the heat of her hand through that thin mesh as she raised it to his cheek.

The dichotomy of her heat under that icy glove pressed to his skin, well, he was undone. He leaned into her, over her.

"Bobby." She breathed his name more than whispered it.

He couldn't stand it any more. He had to, he just had to kiss her again. He had enough time to see her eyes flutter contentedly closed as he brought his lips to hers. If he were to die, what a way to go.

But he didn't die. She didn't drain him. It was a dream, after all.

But she did kiss him back. She did pull him on top of her. And—Oh God!—the rest of her was like her gloves. The dress was thin and cold and he could feel the heat of her beneath it, beneath him. The kiss deepened as his and her body heat continued to rise. He ate at her lip, tried to drink her down, make her part of him, make her his, like he was hers, if she would only have him. But she was having him, having him in this dream, his dream. He could do what he wanted in his dream, have her do what he wanted in his dream.

Their heat melted away their icy clothing and soon it was just his heat against her heat, his skin against her skin, caressing, kissing, stroking, loving, loving, loving, surrounded only by the icy grace of his icy wonderland.

"Okay, we're done, Bobby…" Hank said from the control booth, breaking Bobby's reverie.

"What? Oh, that's all?" Bobby said as he blinked back to the realization of where he was and what he'd just been doing. Before him stood a life size ice sculpture of a man and a woman embracing in the throws of passion. They rose up from what was likely an ocean wave. The icy wave roiled and tumbled sea foam around their feet and up to almost their knees. Their bodies were pressed together from that point, up until their waists. The only thing that defined them as separate beings in that lower portion was an indented seem. At their waists they pulled apart from each other just enough so that their lips could connect in a deep kiss. They held each other tightly together. One of her arms grasped the back of his head. Her fingers laced through his hair. Her other arm clutched low on his back. Along her back one of his arms angled up from her waist to her shoulders. His other arm angled downward, wrapped around her hip, hugging her to him there.

Hank just then looked down from his perch in front of the computers in the observation booth and saw Bobby's creation first hand. The sculpture was large enough, the room was lit well enough, and the statue was accurate enough that Hank saw, without a single doubt, that it was Bobby and Rogue in that icy embrace. And Bobby was staring at it like a treasured memory.

Hank cleared his throat, over the intercom, getting Bobby's attention. "It's quite remarkable Bobby, but I wouldn't keep it around long enough for Gambit to see. Way things have been lately and all."

"I'll stop the world and melt with you. I've seen some changes and its getting better all the time. There's nothing you and I won't do. I'll stop the world and melt with you. The future's open wide…" (I Melt With You –by Modern English)

Bobby stared at his creation for a moment longer, adding it to his treasure box of memories along with the dream. Then he closed his eyes, as if in pain, almost, and flicked the fingers of one hand at the ice sculpture. It melted into a pool of water instantly, tumbling, like a disembodied waterfall, to the danger room floor. Seconds later, the water dissipated into the air, leaving no trace that it had ever been there [5].

"I know she's playing poker with the rest of the stragglers, calling for my soul at the corners of the world. I know she's playing poker and if your friends don't come back to you. And you know this is madness, a lilac mess in your prom dress, and you say, 'I guess, I'm an underwater thing.'" (Liquid Diamonds –by Tori Amos)

Giggle. It was a little less maddening. It was actually a little bit nostalgic and sweet.

"Ah heard ya."

"Really? Ah wouldn't have guessed." That was most certainly sarcastic.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...And thoughts you thought you'd never tell. Line me up in single file with all your grievances. Stare, but I can taste you're still alive below the waste. Ripples come and ripples go and ripple back to me ...The Lord of The Flies was diagnosed as sound. " (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

"So we are decided, then," Storm said, eyeing the group with a serious nod.

"Yeah," Neal said.

"Yes," agreed Sage.

"Oui." Obviously, that was Gambit.

Logan nodded.

"In my time—" Bishop began, but was quickly cut off.

"We don't wan't to hear anymore about what happened in y' time, Pup."

"Remy…" Storm chided gently.

"Fine, I will leave it out of this decision, but it must be addressed at some point," Bishop admonished. "It bears relevance to the diaries, perhaps, and to Rogue's… condition assuredly."

"But do you think it will affect the decision we are agreeing to right now?" Storm asked Bishop.

Bishop looked over everyone in the room. He knew they had made their decision already and Storm was just making sure that they all agreed with the final decision. He sighed, "No, I don't think it will change anyone's opinion."

"So, do you agree with this decision?" Storm asked.

"Yes," Bishop grumbled.

"Fine, I'll contact Rogue and tell her to join the meeting. We'll inform her of our decision when she gets here." Storm reached a hand up to her communicator, but didn't get a chance to activate it.

"Ah'm comin'!" Rogue telepathically screeched to everyone in the room.

Everyone held their heads, bracing against their rising headaches. Sage was just a little more well-mannered about it than the others. Gambit actually laughed while he held his head, and proudly said, "Dat's my Roguey."

"Can't a girl shower in peace?" Rogue added, though a lot less severely than her first outburst.

They all released their heads, one by one, as the pain from her first telepathic invasion faded.

"Remy could come back dere and help y' out if y' want." Gambit teased as he gave Rogue a mental version of his cocky devil-may-care grin. He felt that it actually lightened her mood a little. But just a little. Still, it made him a little happier.

"Ah think Ah can handle it, Remy. All these powers have to be good for something, ya know."

Gambled chuckled in response. He felt her sigh, and felt that she was glad that he hadn't continued the banter. Even that was too much for her right then. That made him frown and smile all at once.

"Rogue's in a mood, not so much bad, but it's quite a mood," Gambit said to the assembled group. He grinned winningly, "Just t'ought Gambit should warn y'."

"Do you think she heard what we were talking about?" Neal asked.

Logan chuckled as he considered that and Gambit's warning. "We'll know soon enough," he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Just say yes, you little arsonist. You're so sure you can save every hair on my chest. Just say yes with your E's and your ease…" (iieee –by Tori Amos)

The four web-shrouded figures parted in half, moving in an echoing fashion that matched their echoing voices. From between them, came a small figure that was obviously not a ghost like Emma herself, nor like any of the more solid web-shrouded figures.

It was a little girl. She was a scrawny, skinny thing with tiny budding breasts and slightly elongated limbs. She was obviously just at the beginning of a growth spurt, at the beginning of puberty.

She wore baggy denim cut-offs and a boy's white under-tank that was thin enough, worn enough, to have necessitated her wearing a training bra. Yet, there was a tenacity, an ornery set to her shoulders, and a speculating and goading gleam to her eyes that dared everyone to even have the audacity to mention the words 'training bra' to her. There was also a surety in her that she could and would back it up. Her unkempt hair was tied back in a crooked, half-escaping ponytail [6].

Emma's ghost didn't even need to see the signature white stripe to know for sure that the figure was a child Rogue.

The child Rogue was holding her arms out, hands balled into stubborn fists in a protective manner to block the eager figure that was directly behind her. This second figure wasn't very visible because the child Rogue was directly in front of him. He—the second figure was definitely a he—was about half a head taller than the child Rogue. Emma's ghost could make out his mussed, short, sun-kissed blond hair, the peppermint glee in his cornflower blue eyes, and the speckling of sandy freckles on his cheeks that confirmed he was none other than the infamous little Cody.

The duo was followed by one more figure, one that also wore a webbed shroud. But his shroud didn't cover his face. It was finer, and less shroud-like. It had a gallant eighteenth century cloak appeal to it. It gave him the demeanor of a guardian. The moment his face moved out of the shadows, Emma's ghost understood the reason for his more liberal attire. There was no mistaking it. This final figure was Cody when his coma had rescinded for the final slumber of death.

He was more than a foot and a half taller than the duo. He had to be around 5'10". The freckles were gone. He had a duller version of the sun kissed blond hair, and it was a little longer, though not by much. The cornflower blue eyes had retained that peppermint glee, but they had a paternal moderation to them as well.

The adult Cody put a fatherly hand on each of the duo's shoulder, split them apart and stepped up between them. The movement gave Emma's ghost a completed view of both the child Cody and the adult Cody. The adult Cody was as much as she had expected from what she had already seen of him behind the duo. The child Cody, though, was not exactly what she was expecting. She hadn't even a real picture in her imagination to compare him to. He was wearing dirty, untied tennis shoes, worn jeans with grass stains on the knees, and a surprisingly clean blue tee-shirt that was two shades deeper blue than his eyes. Unlike like the child Rogue or the web-shrouded figures, the child Cody's image was fainter and slightly transparent. He was like Emma was. He was a ghost.

This was the Cody that had initiated a feisty child Rogue's first kiss. The kiss that triggered Rogue's absorption powers. And that meant that…

"This is Eleven," Adult Cody proudly exclaimed independently of the other shrouded figures. He was beaming as he looked down at the obstinate child Rogue.

"...In this chapel, little chapel of love, can't we get a little grace and some elegance…" (iieee –by Tori Amos)

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...And thoughts you thought you'd never tell. I am not asking you to believe in me. Boy, I think you're confused, I'm not Persephone. Foam can be dangerous with tape across my mouth. These things you do, I never asked you how. Line me up in single file with all your grievances. Stare, but I can taste you're still above the waste. Ripples come and ripples go and ripple back to me…" (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

"We have two leads for two more possible locations of the diaries," Storm looked over at Rogue, who was sitting in the chair at the table that Gambit had sat in at the beginning of the meeting. That left Bobby the seat between Gambit and Wolverine. Gambit was dealing with it okay; he really wasn't being quite that petty about it.

After a long pause, and a conscious glance to Rogue, Storm announced, "One location is in Caldecott County."

Several eyes turned to Rogue, who surprisingly didn't look perturbed by the announcement. The others seemed more affected by the prospect of one of the books being in Rogue's hometown than she did. Their affectations were to be expected, especially considering their conversation about whether or not the books had anything major to do with Rogue. Storm assumed Rogue was just closing herself off. She did that a lot, when things got too personal for her and a mess of team members were surrounding her.

Storm decided to continue on before any of the others decided to start in on Rogue. "And the second location is in Cairo, though that one is from a rather unreliable source. Still, it may be worth checking out."

Everyone nodded to that. Most of them knew that, in many ways, the thought of going to Cairo was just as personal for Storm as the thought of going to Caldecott was for Rogue. It took some of the pressure off Rogue, but not all of it. Sure, Storm was pictured in one of the diaries as being in an all out sword fight with Vargas, but Rogue was the second closest person to the writer of the diaries—next to Mystique, of course. And even if they discounted their discussion earlier, Rogue had already been involved in more than one diary in more than one significant way. Rogue's battling and then re-imprisoning the Shadow King after Psylocke's death was in the diary that Rogue had gotten from Gateway. Secondly, Destiny had specifically left one diary for Rogue in a package placed for her in the house that Destiny had left for Rogue. The fact that Vargas had already stolen that diary did little to discount the fact that Destiny had intended it for Rogue. For all they knew, the diaries Vargas possessed actually showed Rogue receiving the one Destiny had intended for her and had gone ahead of them to retrieve it.

Speaking of Vargas, there was also that little fact that he'd chosen Rogue for his first kill, yet ended up getting Psylocke. Vargas still had a mad-on for Rogue as his primary target [7]. That alone spoke volumes about Rogue's involvement. Then, there was the letter, the mysterious letter that Vargas had so graciously mailed to Rogue, that Rogue had shared with Bobby, and that Gambit had read without Rogue's knowledge. Storm and the others needed to see the letter themselves, they just hadn't found a way to lead Bobby or, if they were lucky enough, Rogue herself, to bring it up and offer to let them see it.

Neal—newbie Neal—whom Rogue would never suspect of being manipulative, solved all their problems by innocently asking, "Rogue, do you think the possible diary in Caldecott could be a copy of the one Destiny meant for you to get at the house she willed to you? I mean, maybe she foresaw Vargas stealing the one at the house?"

Rogue thought about it a moment, "Could be, but Ah doubt it. Far as we know, she didn't take the chance of making any copies. Didn't want to give them any more chances of falling into the wrong hands, ya know?"

"As if being in Mystique's hands wasn't bad enough," Wolverine grumbled.

Bobby cocked his head back to look over the back of the couch to eye Rogue as he asked her, "What about the letter?"

The others feigned surprise quite well, but not well enough to fool someone with Emma's telepathic powers still turned on. The multitudes of penetrating thoughts were down to a nearly dull roar, but the thoughts of the fairly close-knit-group of the X-Treme team were standing out from the rest. Like earlier, those closest to her in some way or another were getting past the rest of the static noise of the thousands of other thoughts for her to hear more clearly. She was just glad that only a few thoughts stood out sporadically, randomly, that the rest were more or less static, white noise.

But the moment Bobby said the word 'letter', all the people in the room, in one version or another, though 'oh yeah, tell us about the letter!' They were loud enough, that Rogue had no choice but to hear them.

Gambit, however had a thought that distinctly sounded like a mental guilty gulp.

Rogue looked directly at Gambit, who crossed his arms across his chest, rested one ankle on the opposite knee and pointedly faced away from her. He also shielded his guilt for being caught—not his guilt for checking up on her because he was worried about her—he would never feel guilty over doing that—behind a curtain of his red-brown hair.

Abruptly, Rogue stood, trying to will him to face her, which he wouldn't, and said, "Ya snooped through my things, didn't ya, ya swamp rat—"

"He did what!?" Impostor Eleven exclaimed.

"That damned ssscoundrelll," Nineteen hissed from her safe haven in her cherry tree orchard, Well, her safe haven from most anything other than Impostor Eleven it seemed.

"—That's why Ah smelled ya all over my room last night." Rogue continued, ignoring Nineteen and the entity Rogue still thought was Eleven. "And to think, Ah thought ya'd stopped by to say goodnight, or something innocent like that. Fooled me, didn't ya? What the hell were ya thinking, huh?"

Surprisingly, Bobby came to Gambit's defense. "He was worried Rogue, we're all worried…" Bobby then turned a glower on Gambit and added through grinding his teeth, "Weren't you, Gambit?"

Gambit's response was completely genuine when he said, "More den y' can possibly know, homme."

Rogue sat back down, seemingly beginning to calm down a bit. Still, she narrowed her eyes on Gambit when she asked, "Did ya peak through the diary they found in Genosha, too?"

Gambit did look at her then, as he said, "Honestly? Non. Mais, not 'cause I didn't want to. Didn't have time. Knew y'd be back any minute."

"Ya swear it, Remy?" She asked, her voice smaller, hinting at being a plea.

Gambit sighed and nodded, then seeing she was still waiting for a verbal answer, said, "Oui, chere. Gambit swear it."

Rogue settled back in her chair and did, indeed, calm down then.

"What's the big deal with that diary anyway?" Neal said, genuinely just curious. Storm and the others feared he'd stepped in it, that he'd raised her anger again by asking about something she obviously felt was personal.

"Don't know," Rogue said not quite matter-of-factly. She sighed, releasing a lot of the tension she'd been holding in since she entered the already in progress meeting. "Ah haven't brought myself to look at it, yet." She looked to Storm, then added, "Could ya give me a few more days alone with it? Ah mean, considering it was in Erik's—" Gambit's ears perked up at her personal reference to Magneto, as did a few others "—possession long enough for him to have had it restored, and considering his bent on world domination thing…" She trailed off, inhaled deeply, then continued, "Ah'm just figuring since he hadn't made any grand attacks on the world since Joseph..." She trailed off again at the mention of that person's name. "Ah thought it wasn't anything important in that kind of way, ya know?"

Of course, it was Logan who said, "Didn't mean he wasn't planning anything from it, or that he hadn't been using it for a while now, darlin'?"

"Ah know, Wolvie… Just…" Rogue said. Her molasses voice regained her signature stubbornness when she asked, "…Just a few more days, okay?"

Storm nodded. "A few days will be fine," she said, then jumped right back onto the subject, "Now about this letter that Bobby—" Rogue smirked at Storm, who smiled ingratiatingly at her, and corrected herself as she continued, "--That Gambit told us about. We think there may be some relevance between it and the diaries." She left the 'and you' unspoken, then asked, politely but unwaveringly, "Could we see it?"

"Yeah, Ah guess so," Rogue said, her mind working over the implications the letters contents could have on the others. The others specifically watched the thoughts subtly undulate across her eyes, for she didn't let them show very much on the rest of her face. They watched her like they were seeing her with new eyes, like they were searching for a glimmer of that stout intelligence that Sage had informed them of earlier.

Rogue, of course, saw them watching her so closely, and raised an ironic brow. Then she thought at them, "You're watching me so hard, ya'll are projecting."

"We are sorry, Rogue," Storm said.

"Will ya'll stop walking on egg shells with me," Rogue said with slight exasperation. "Gawd! It's really starting to get on this gal's nerves?"

Logan chuckled and shared a look with Gambit, who gave his trademark cocky grin.

"What?" Rogue asked, not wanting to hear their thoughts anymore than she already was.

"Just dat Gambit be rubbing off on y', 's all, chere," Remy said, turning that suave, cocky grin and his come-hither ruby on onyx eyes on her. "Y' just spoke of y'self in de t'ird person, chere."

Logan chuckled again.

"Keep it up, swamp rat…Same goes for ya, Wolvie." Rogue said in mock anger, even as she blushed the littlest bit.

"...And ripple back to me. I am not asking you to believe in me. Boy, I think you're confused, I'm not Persephone. She's in New York somewhere checking her accounts. The Lord of The Flies was diagnosed as Sound." (Pandora's Aquarium –by Tori Amos)

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Can't we get a little grace and some elegance. No, we scream in cathedrals. Why can't it be beautiful? Why does there gotta be a sacrifice..." (iieee –by Tori Amos)

"I figured that out, Mr. Obvious," Emma's ghost said to the adult Cody. "You're as bad as Scott."

His smile didn't falter, but it changed. It sobered a little. He said, "IT warned us 'bout ya Miss Emma." He faced her then and added, "And Ah'm not impressed, ma'am."

"Really?" Emma's sarcasm painfully lengthened the word.

"Sorry, ma'am, but Ah'm not," he said good-naturedly. The contradiction in his insulting meaning and his polite, mannerly tone needled Emma's ghost. His next statement only made it worse. His eyes sparkled in challenging delight as he said, "Now have ya figured out who we are, yet?"

She tapped her foot impatiently and said, "Not the way to get on my good side, bumpkin."

Adult Cody countered in that same mannerly tone, but maintained the challenging delight in his eyes, "Well, if yoah not up to the challenge, Miss Frost…"

Emma's ghost didn't know if she wanted to congratulate him on his subtle audacity or spin on her heels and leave them high and dry. Before she could make the decision, though, the other four web-shrouded figures caught her attention. They each reached a hand up to the fine mesh and wiped their faces free of it like the mesh was, well, like it was a web.

She had just enough time to take in each of their identities—to know they weren't ghosts like she was, but that they were as solid as the child Rogue, the real Eleven, and the adult Cody—before they answered the adult Cody's question. They spoke one by one, from left to right.

"We are"—said the organic metal face—"the remains"—said the face with the eyes that crackled with magnetic energy and was framed by long white hair—"of the catches"—said the face with the living flames swirling around it—"of the dead"—said an elderly face with the blind eyes.

A sixth web-shrouded figure came out of the depths to stand beside the last speaker of the group. She differed from the first four and from the adult Cody. Like the four, her web-shroud still looked like a shroud. Like Cody, her face was already visible. She had dark purple hair, Asian features, a crimson mark over one eye, and a pink butterfly tattooed across the top half of her face like a Masquerade Ball mask. The wings of the butterfly spanned the width of her face so that her dark eyes were like the mock eyes of a monarch butterfly. The tattoo was a tribute to the whole of her telepathic powers being consumed in imprisoning the Shadow King on the Astral plane.

Her arms escaped through tears in the web shroud. Telekinetic psionic energy roiled off the kitana she held casually in one of her hands. Her mouth was gagged by a scarf made of web strands. It knotted at the back of her head and then trailed off into the depths. Emma's ghost thought it was a good bet that the other end of that gag led to Eleven's impostor.

The gagged Psylocke nodded to the final speaker of the group to signal for Irene to speak for the speechless Psylocke. Irene then asked, "Do you understand? Do you agree to help?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"...She got you liking mine back, got me takin' it in, getting mine back, lasting mine evil. I'm taking my easel and I'm writing good checks. You sign, 'Prince of Darkness.' Try, 'squire of dimness.' Please don't try to help me with this..." (She's Your Cocaine –by Tori Amos)

The meeting had broken up. Most everyone had left. Gambit was holding the door as they left since he was the only one with the key and was going to be locking up. As Rogue, followed closely by Bobby, came through, Gambit stopped her with a gently placed grasp on her shoulder. She stopped, but she kept her head down, stubbornly facing forward and away from his Diable Blanc eyes. He grasped her chin with a gloved finger and lifted and turned it to him.

They held each other's jeweled gaze for a moment. Ruby on Onyx against Emerald.

"They hate ya, Gambit," Rogue said sadly and pulled her head from his grasp. "The personas that have escaped… They all hate ya."

Bobby stepped right up against Rogue's back then. He looked steadily at Gambit, but there wasn't a challenge in it. Instead, it reflected his friendship for Rogue, his caring for her, his protection of her, and… and a sign that he empathized with Gambit… that he understood the ache of not being with the one you most want.

And Gambit knew, then. He knew that he was in the same boat as Bobby at that moment. It was a grand relief. It meant that Bobby didn't have Rogue, not the way he was dreaming about. They way they were both dreaming about. Gambit didn't have Rogue either—not the way he ached for it.

Gambit was in her heart, he was sure of that. But, he was also sure that he and Rogue were, again, still, off-again.

The tables had turned once more. At one time it was a green ghost lady inside of Gambit, keeping him from professing his love to Rogue, from sharing his love with Rogue. Now it was Rogue inside herself keeping her from him.

He never wanted to be a ghost inside of her more than right then. Never wanted to give his mortal life away for a kiss, for a brief intimate embrace, just to be inside of her forever. Then, as a complete ghost of himself, like Carol had been, he would battle Eleven and all the other troublemakers for Rogue. He would solve all of her problems for her.

But, he wouldn't, couldn't do that to her.

He just hoped the fainter ghosts of himself that were already in there from the two times they'd kissed and she'd absorbed him were doing their part to help her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Surrender, then start your engines. You'll know quite soon what my mistake was. For those on horseback or dog sled, you turn at the bend in the road. I hear she still grants forgiveness, although, I willingly forgot her. The offering is molasses. And you say, 'I guess I'm an underwater thing.' Guess I can't take it personally. Guess I'm an underwater thing. I'm liquid running…" (Liquid Diamonds –by Tori Amos)

The swoosh of the door opening and closing in the med lab announced Xavier's arrival. Hank didn't bother to look up to acknowledge him. There had been no need to. He'd already known Xavier was there. They'd been conversing via Xavier's telepathy since Xavier left his office.

"You're positive of that," Xavier said, switching from telepathy to actually using his voice.

"See for yourself," Hank said as he pushed back his rolling chair to allow room for Xavier's hover chair [8].

Xavier took his time perusing Hank's findings, he flipped through file after file of all the tests that Hank had performed on the available X-Men that day, Bobby having been the first. "Indeed it is so," Xavier finally said.

"What do you make of it?" Hank asked curiously. He, himself, had dozens of theories, but nothing accurate, nothing absolute.

"I will have to think on it," Xavier said, "Please make these files accessible to my office computer."

"Of course," Hank replied, a little disappointed that Xavier was not going to be staying to confer over his findings right then.

Xavier must have read his disappointment because after leaving the med lab, he said, "It is not for lack of interest. Remember, Hank, I have that mission to monitor tonight."

"I guess I'm an underwater thing. I'm liquid running. There's a sea secret in me. It's plain to see it rising…" (Liquid Diamonds –by Tori Amos)

Giggle.

"Ah swear it, Eleven, soon as Ah find a way to get my hands on ya, Ah'm gonna wring your shimmerin' neck to get ya to stop that God forsaken giggling!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"If you want me to, boy, I could lie to you. You don't need one of these to let me inside of you. And is it true that devils end up like you, something safe for the picture frame. And is it true that devils end up like you, so tied up you don't know how she came. She's your Cocaine…" (She's Your Cocaine –by Tori Amos)

Again, Remy LeBeau was dressed to the nines in another Armani tux, ready for a night out of divulging in his secrets… without his lady love by his side. This time though, he hadn't meant for her to be with him. Sure he was going to introduce this part of his life to her, little by little, hoping her hatred for her days with Mystique could be quelled by his suave industriousness. But a night like tonight, with a purpose and an assignment and higher-ups, whom he didn't want to know about her and how much she meant to him and how they could use her as a weapon against him if they ever felt the need, or whim. Tonight was business only.

…And still she wouldn't leave his mind.

"...She says control it. Then, she says don't control it. Then, she says you're controlling the way she makes you crawl. She's your Cocaine… " (She's Your Cocaine –by Tori Amos)

Gambit enters the 'members only' restaurant and bypasses the reservations line altogether. An arrogantly raised brow and equally arrogantly disturbed frown sends the Maitre D bustling straight to Gambit. Gambit is in full Guild Regalia mode. It his most sure, his most arrogant, his most aware, his most careful, his most dangerous, his most intelligent, his most sly, his most HIM mode.

"...You're your favourite stranger…" (She's Your Cocaine –by Tori Amos)

The Maitre D knows him as nothing else, and desperately wishes to avoid grating on the powerful man who always wears his black, black shades inside whether it's day or night. He quickly ushers Gambit to the waiting table.

But tonight, the visage is not much more than a mask.

"...You're your favourite stranger. And we all like to watch. So shimmy once and do it again…" (She's Your Cocaine –by Tori Amos)

And it's work to keep the mask in place. His mind is wandering, keeping out of his grace, running out of his reach. His mind is on her. On Rogue. And on the thing that plagues her and plagues him and, thus, plagues him and her. It's on Eleven. He does not know she's not Eleven, not really… He doesn't know that yet. Nobody does, yet. But, in him the name means nothing. He doesn't equate the plague, ahem, equate Eleven as an unsuspecting girl receiving her first kiss and her first taste of her life long curse, her damnable lack of control. He sees her only as the thing that is hurting Rogue and him both.

So he fights to keep his mind on this impending private Guild meeting, trying to keep up the mask that keeps them from making a connection to his connection with the outlaw mutant band of heroes, the X-Men.

He's barely keeping hold of the reigns as his thoughts stray again to Rogue and to Eleven.

"She's your Cocaine, your Exodus laughing, and she knows what your are, so you shimmy once and do it again…" (She's Your Cocaine –by Tori Amos)

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I am not your senorita. I don't aim so high. In my heart, I did no crime. If you want inside her well, boy, you better make her raspberry swirl…" (Raspberry Swirl –by Tori Amos)

Impostor Eleven waited until Rogue settled in her room and began trying to clear the webs that had once again been spreading more violently, more frantically throughout her mindscape and body again. Impostor Eleven knew that would be the most likely time that she could attempt something without Rogue's knowing about it. She'd been lucky when she was punishing Nineteen… but that probably had more to do with Rogue's own annoyance with Nineteen for ripping Logan's claws out of Gambit's unsuspecting hands than anything Impostor Eleven had done. Well, that and Rogue trying to keep out all the thoughts that Emma's telepathy was issuing on her.

Wondah why Emma's telepathy was the strongest right when Ah was punishin' Nineteen…hmm… Ah'll have ta think 'bout that later… got other plans right now.

Giggle.

Impostor Eleven never even conceived of the idea that Emma's ghost had been witness to her punishment of Nineteen. Had never conceived that it was Emma's ghost's presence that kept that little tete-et-tete from Rogue's awareness.

In exchange for the privacy while Rogue was meditating and cleaning up her mindscape after the X-Treme team meeting, Impostor Eleven actually let Rogue make a little progress in her spring cleaning efforts. Well, it was more to keep Rogue going at it by giving Rogue the feeling that she was actually getting somewhere with her efforts so that Rogue would be preoccupied and less likely to be on the lookout for what Impostor Eleven was up to.

Impostor Eleven fingered the catch she'd selected to play with first, and grinned.

This is gonna be fun.

Giggle.

Impostor Eleven poured herself into it, imbued herself into it, and felt it come to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sinister sat at his console, going over all the wonderful information the collars had been feeding him. After the third time Rogue had put on and taken off the collars, the collars didn't even need to be on her in order to transmit the information to him, they just needed to be within a half-mile vicinity of Rogue. The collars constantly transmitted information to each other, so once one was activated on Rogue specifically the first time, it shared the locating, locking, and bonding information with the other collar. That was the purpose of the minimum of three times for the collars being activated and deactivated on her. It didn't work on anyone else, well, it worked as all slave collars worked on everyone else, but not the bonuses he'd added to it.

The first time Rogue had put it on, it activated the stored bonus programs. The first step of the program was to identify that it was Rogue that had adorned it, which was accomplished when the program was directly activated by her genetic signature. Being inside Rogue's mind that one time had allowed Sinister to get an even more accurate reading of her signature. He didn't know why exactly, but he was the only person who had faded from her mind after being absorbed by her and had retained all memory of being inside of her [9]. That was very helpful in elaborating his plans for Gambit's ladylove. Of course, back then, none of them knew Gambit would fall for Rogue as he did, right? Right? Anyway, once the program turned on, it located a specified aspect of Rogue—Impostor Eleven, of course—

I could've told them she wasn't Eleven, Sinister thought. Not that they would've asked me… Or believed me.

--then it waited for the collar to be deactivated (well, it only had enough energy to perform so many tasks at once). The first time the collar was deactivated after having been used by Rogue, it automatically triggered the program in the second collar.

The second time one of the collars was activated on Rogue, the bonus program locked onto Impostor Eleven and made as many contacts and locks with as many other aspects of Rogue's powers and shielding units as possible. As it did so, it recorded all information it encountered, storing it for when the collar would be deactivated for a second time. Once deactivated, it again triggered the program in the other collar and shared the information with it. By transmitting between the two collars this way, Sinister ensured that three-step activation/deactivation process would be more likely reached in case the X-Men decided to switch between the two collars for caution's sake. Giving them two collars and, thus that option of a security blanket that came with it, it also helped ensure that they would use them. But, granted, considering Rogue's condition at the time, what choice did they have, really?

The third time one of the collars was activated, well, that was the important step, that was the actual beginning to the purpose of the collars. Once activated a third time, it bonded with Impostor Eleven, and most importantly with Rogue's genetic signature. The bonding was a near permanent thing. It needed to be regenerated by occasionally being reactivated on Rogue, since in bonding with Rogue it actually made a pathway to gain energy directly from Rogue, storing it, in order to maintain that bond. The bond itself gave Sinister the means to give Rogue more reasons to necessitate wearing the collar when the bond began to weaken and showed signs of needing to regenerate the bond. It was a complicated program, but so simple in design. All it needed to do was make it through the three steps and then Sinister would control everything from his end because as it was deactivated that special third time and it shared the bonding information with the other collar, the transmission from the collars to Sinister's lab became two-way. It was a two-way transfer that was only accessible on his end.

Perhaps, given enough time, Hank and Xavier could derive a way to access that transmission, but it would not be any time soon. For the time being, Sinister had his own near-sentient monitoring system, all transmitted and analyzed by his advanced technology in his comfy secret lab.

Sinister was reviewing this transmitted information when some abrupt movement of Magneto's brought his attention to the computer monitor that televised the video feed from Magneto's cell. Magneto had jerked up suddenly in his bunk, knocking his head on the small outcropping on the wall above him. Sinister watched as Magneto's eyes widened in surprise and some other emotion…

Pain? …No, not pain… intense pleasure, Sinister thought, and a menacing smile broadened his face. He looked to his monitors, brought up Impostor Eleven's readings as well as Magneto's readings, and saw that his suspicions were correct. Somebody's having fun, I see…

Giggle.

Yes, Impostor Eleven, was indeed, having a great deal of fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Guess I'm an underwater thing. I'm liquid running. There's a sea secret in me. It's plain to see it is rising…" (Liquid Diamonds –by Tori Amos)

Impostor Eleven pulled herself out of Magneto's catch, but didn't release it. She continued toying with him by manipulating his catch, and even better, by using Gambit's empathic abilities, his charm powers, coupled of course with a touch of Jean's telepathy just to make it heady enough. But she remained outside the catch, only allowing herself a faint sense of the delicious torment she was giving Magneto, so that she could—as the saying goes—keep a close eye on Rogue to make sure she wasn't caught in the act, so to speak.

All of the catches were bundled like monofilament lines before her shimmering cloud form. One of them caught her eye. The catch was glowing with energy, pouring energy into Rogue. That was usually a sure sign that the person the catch belonged to was doing something with her powers.

Impostor Eleven picked up the line, stroked it, identified it, and studied it.

Well, well, well, pretty little Kitty. Ah wondah what yoah up ta right now? Something Ah might have fun messin' with too?

"...There's a sea secret in me. It's plain to see it rising. But, I must be flowing liquid diamonds calling for my soul at the corners of the world…" (Liquid Diamonds –by Tori Amos)

~~~~~~~~~~~

She was doing Xavier a favor, a big favor. She'd left all of this stuff behind when she'd left them. She told Xavier this and he had said he'd understood.

Then he came calling for her help… again. How many times was this, now? She couldn't even remember. She tried to forget each time, swearing to herself, cursing to him, that it was her last, she was trying to live as normal a life as possible, as normal as her current circumstances would grant her, at least. But she would take what little normalcy she could get, devour it, and savor it for the preciousness it was.

Why couldn't he just accept that?

She sighed, moved past the next corridor and through into the next one. She was inside the outer areas of the complex, the more public areas, places where the tourists were led through while on guided group tours. A few more corridors, a few more locked doors, and she would enter the lowest areas of the Classified Personnel Only. After that came the more difficult areas she would have to bypass, the areas that actually had shielding against mutants, perhaps even a couple of dampening fields, maybe. Xavier's intel had suggested she watch out for such things.

It could be deadly if she got caught unsuspecting by one of those pesky dampening fields while passing into the next room between her and the purpose of her visit.

Half-in,half-out… Jeeze, can't think like that.

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

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I know they didn't actually keep in contact with him on panel in the X-Treme title, but it was stated that he would carry that role in the Christmas issue where they had their initial meeting about searching out the books.

[2] Just happened in X-Treme X-Men # 13.

[3] If I included someone Rogue had never actually absorbed in the comics, then too bad, I'm saying she absorbed them for the purposes of my story.

[4] The whispered words Bobby hears in his dream are the lyrics from Tori Amos' "Icicle."

[5] According to a few character bios on Bobby, as of the events of a particular limited series where he, Mystique, Toad and Juggernaut had been sent on a time traveling mission against their will, Bobby now has near complete control of his powers. In this series, Bobby was shown to be able to turn his ice form self into water and reform it. He transforms other forms of ice in much the same manner. The best description and use of these powers were in the fanfiction "Two Thieve" by Lori McDonald and Valerie Jones, and "Blind Sight" (still unfinished, ugh!) by Valerie Jones.

[6] When I picture Rogue as a pre-teen, I always saw her as a mix between Annie, Pippi Longstockings, Punky Brewster, and Anna Chulmsky (sorry spelling, I'm talking about the girl from the first My Girl movie).

[7] X-Treme X-Men #13, the same very issue where Sage gives Rogue control over the powers she absorbed. I know I'm writing my own version of Rogue's role in the diaries with this very story, but I am just dying to see what they really do with it in the comics.

[8] I know that I said that this story takes place after the whole multi-dimensional invasion story line has ended. And, that it takes place after Gambit and Storm have all been rescued from the big bad invaders (well, because it had to happen right, they wouldn't kill off another major character so quickly after killing off Psylocke all in the same title). And, although I was thankfully correct in my prediction of Rogue gaining control of the powers she's absorbed (X-Treme X-men #13), I did not have the luck of predicting that Xavier would get back the use of his legs like he did in Uncanny # 126. I mean, who'da thunk it? So, for the sake of my story, I'm just pretending it didn't happen, okay?

[9] Okay, I'm going by memory, but I'm positive that in that classic Inferno story in the first X-Factor series, Sinister actually started a sentence while inside of her and completed it inside of himself. If this isn't true, then we'll just pretend it happened. I'm being too lazy to go look that up right now. Besides, they make that sort of mistake in the comics all the time and we just have to accept, right? Plus, this is just fan fiction…

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