THE HEAVENS OPEN
By Stormkeeper (stormkpr@usa.net)
CHAPTER TWENTY
*****************
Dani Moonstar missed Bobby Drake. She pretty much missed all of the X-men, of course, but Bobby was the one who popped into her head that moment. She liked that he was so open. You could talk about whatever you wanted with him and he had just this bit of innocence about him too.
He was different than Dani, though; that she knew. Bobby had grown up ashamed of being gay. For Dani, her lesbianism was always a point of pride. The youth group that inspired her so much during her formative group had been led by strong, capable women, a few of whom were lesbians. When she met Bobby and became friends with him, she could tell that he admired her pride and her chutzpah.
'Being a dyke –and **liking** being a dyke -- doesn't necessarily mean you fall in love with the idea of going down on a woman, though,' she thought to herself. Moonstar fondly remembered back to the first time she ever performed oral sex. She felt anxiety and even a measure of fear, not knowing what the other girl's genitalia would taste or smell like, or even exactly what it would look like. But it had been okay and Dani had triumphantly recorded the event in her journal. Gradually, she came to enjoy it and had lost the anxiety.
Marrow didn't usually allow herself to be touched in such an intimate way, though. She usually didn't like to be touched much at all, though their regular massage sessions were slowly helping to change that. One evening during their coupling, Marrow did ask Dani to go down on her (technically, she didn't "ask" using words, but her body language had instead made the request quite clear.) When Dani did so, Marrow nearly jumped three feet into the air.
"Sensitive spot?" Dani asked.
Marrow grunted in the affirmative. She then added, "Gimme a sec."
Dani remained where she was. She never had really gotten a good look at Marrow's "down there area" (as Dani's grandmother had referred to it.) Things didn't look quite right, Dani observed that night. Scar tissue, perhaps, resulting from the FOH soldier assaults? 'Though I guess you can't expect a woman named Marrow who has a bone sticking out above her clit to have normal 'down theres," Dani mused. Besides, Dani had never been promiscuous; she could count her ex-lovers all on one hand with fingers to spare, so she hadn't exactly seen lots of different women's private areas to compare Marrow's to.
Marrow released a long, slow breath. "Okay. Can you try it again?"
"I'd love to," Dani replied. She wasn't being dishonest either.
Marrow tolerated it. Dani could tell she wasn't enjoying it all that much. It might've been the awkward position they had to take. Due to the number of bones bulging from Marrow's back, she could not lay on her back and had assumed a half-sitting position with Dani kneeling before her. Dani wondered if it was more than their semi-awkward position, though. Marrow just preferred to call the shots in the bedroom, in general, rather than doing anything passive. Too reminiscent of the rapes perhaps, Dani mused. `Interesting that it didn't affect me the same way,' she thought before quickly banishing any thoughts of her own assaults. Being forced to assume the role of Marrow's girlfriend may not have been paradise, but anything was better than her own hellish weeks in the FOH camps.
Dani brushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on what she was doing. When she brought a few fingers around to compliment the work of her tongue, she felt Marrow shudder and heard a few grunting noises. Mission accomplished.
Later, the two women were dressing. "Hey, it's gonna be dinner time soon!" Marrow realized.
Dani smiled at the near-childish glee in Marrow's voice. She actually felt it too. "Let's go!"
They eagerly headed for the mess hall. Marrow extended her hand and Dani took it within her own.
It was Roula's turn to cook tonight, and Dani especially loved Middle Eastern food. She hoped that Roula would again prepare some dishes from her homeland. Since the evening Storm prepared dinner with Thyme, cooking days had become almost regular events on board the Vengeance. Slowly but surely, all the members of the crew participated even if it was only to eat rather than cook. (Neither Psylocke nor Marrow ever cooked and Dani had to admit it wasn't her favorite activity either.) But there actually were days when all six members of the crew sat down and ate together.
The first time Marrow had tried Roula's Middle Eastern cooking, she remarked at how "weird" the food tasted. But it had grown on her and Marrow had come around to enjoying it.
Scooping some tabouli up with her pita bread, Dani wondered if what Storm hoped for was actually starting to blossom. As she chewed the tangy bite, she acknowledged that oftentimes dinner conversation among the Vengeance's crew was minimal. When it happened, it was often stilted and choppy too. Still, it was starting to happen.
Dani spoke with Storm in the gym the following morning. "I don't really know how successful it is," Storm admitted. "I know almost nothing more about Roula then I did when I set foot aboard this ship. What I know about Thyme can fill half a page in my journal." Storm preferred journaling in pen and paper rather than on a computer, Dani knew. Storm's handwriting was blissfully clear and neat, and she made her letters large.
"Well, it's a start," Dani said as she walked on the treadmill. She glanced at her heart-rate monitor and tried to pick up the pace. When their year was up, she had to be in X-man shape and right now did not feel as if she could even take on Toad if Toad were wearing a collar. "You have to start somewhere."
"Next time I'm in the kitchen with Roula and Thyme, I think I will ask them if they want to participate in a healing ceremony." She exhaled as she set down the weight she'd lifted. "Will you join us?"
"Of course! But, uh, Storm I hope you won't be too upset if **they** decline. They don't seem like they're….there yet."
"I know. But asking won't hurt. It might at least implant the idea in their minds. What about inviting Marrow?"
"Marrow? At a healing ceremony?" Dani shook her head. "I just can't see it. Ever."
"Perhaps in time," Storm replied, sounding patient. "Have you discussed with her the event that
we might encounter another FOH ship?"
"No." She wished Storm would cease asking about this. Dani didn't want to preach to Marrow the evils of violence. Spitting into the ocean might be more effective. And no matter what, Marrow certainly did not wish to use Marrow's infatuation (she refused to term it "love") to try to sway her. Dani looked for a new topic. "Hey, Storm, when you're done with that, will you coach me in using my powers again? They feel rusty."
"Of course. I would be glad to."
***************
Rogue woke one morning with vague cramps in her abdominal region. Through the haziness of slumber, she half-consciously dismissed the unpleasant sensations and instinctively nestled closer to Remy. The starship was warm enough, but just the knowledge that the outdoors was so cold made her seek out the warmth of Remy.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Rogue found herself waking again. This time, the cramps were stronger. As she gradually opened her eyes and tried to flee the grogginess, she became aware of another feeling. Wetness.
Rogue sat bolt upright, her eyes open and the sleep gone. Hoisting the lower half of her body up an inch, she pulled down her panties.
Blood. She was bleeding, and had already stained her panties. A few drops had leaked onto the sheets.
"Remy!!" she screeched.
Minutes later, Gambit had carried the strong woman to sick bay where Hank met them. Hank had run all the way from his quarters. The pleasant sleep was gone, replaced by stabbing knives of fear-drenched adrenaline.
"Oh please oh please lord don't let it be….." Rogue broke off her prayer, not even wanting to say the dreaded word.
Hank silently and efficiently drew blood from Rogue. "We will have the results of the hormone test in three to four minutes."
"What will it mean, Hank?" Rogue asked, her voice quivering. Remy stood by her side, holding her clammy hand. He remained quiet but periodically placed his other hand on his wife's shoulder or face.
"We will review your hormone levels," he stated, knowing he was sounding clinical and detached. Yet he needed to be this way. Visible nervousness from him would worsen the tense situation. "If your hormone levels show a significant decrease, it means that miscarriage is possible. Or likely," he corrected himself.
"What if they ain't declined?" Remy asked. "Or ain't declined dat much?"
"Then it is possible that there is no cause for alarm."
"How can there be no cause for alarm? I'm bleedin'!" Rogue exclaimed. She looked down towards her midsection and then closed her eyes, trying to will away the image of red blood against her white panties.
"The blood loss, however, appears to have ceased for now," Hank said. "Let us wait for the hormone test results."
"Chere, try to take a few breat's," Remy advised softly. "Everyt'ings gonna be okay."
Rogue sat against the infirmary bed's backrest. She decided to follow her husband's advice; she had been holding her breath forever it seemed. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, almost painfully forcing the air out through her mouth. Her hands still shook and she still felt the sickening feeling in the vicinity of her heart and stomach. Cramps still assaulted her as well. She looked at Remy and squeezed his hand tighter.
Remy looked at his wife. Her face had turned ghostly pale. "We gonna be okay chere," he repeated, this time his voice just above a whisper. He also felt the sickness within his belly, the dread growing. Deep within his bones, he knew what Hank's test would reveal. `You always get what you want, Remy,' he thought to himself. `You didn't want a baby and you knew it….'
Remy bent his head down to kiss Rogue's hand. His lips were dry. But the gallant gesture brought a smile to Rogue's face. Through the haze of her own panic, she sensed that her husband was worried but she also knew he would be strong for her.
The wait for the test results remained agonizing and time seemed to stand still. The husband and wife stood looking at each other, each seeing their fear reflected in the other's eyes.
Hank stood at a respectful distance from the couple. The wait for the test results was excruciating for him too. He also had the knowledge that there was nothing he could do now except wait for the result and to give them their privacy.
Minutes later, Hank stood looking at the read-out. Within less than a second's time, his mind flashed back to another horrible day, less than a year ago. He was sitting in his laboratory, looking at the results of an HIV test. His innards felt as if they were being turned inside out and he struggled to think of what he would tell his best friend and his best friend's lover.
Within that second's time, he realized that today he again faced an equally harrowing task.
He turned around to face the couple. "I am sorry to have to bear bad news. Rogue, your hormone levels do appear to be declining. This probably means that you are losing the baby."
****************
Remy and Rogue remained in sick bay, with Hank keeping a distance but available as needed. At one point, Bobby walked in. He was worried when he hadn't seen Hank at breakfast.
"Rogue and Gambit are experiencing some difficulties," Hank whispered to Bobby in the doorway. He needn't have whispered though; the couple wasn't listening. "Let us allow Rogue and Gambit their privacy."
"Of course," Bobby whispered back. Hank hadn't said in so many words what was happening, but Bobby looked around and guessed at the truth. The look on Hank's face said it all. Bobby walked back to the mess hall and ate no breakfast.
Rogue's bleeding had resumed with a vengeance. Her cramps intensified. Hank offered her a pain reliever but she declined.
***************
Bobby returned to the dining room and sat down next to Northstar. Most everyone was in the mess hall, enjoying breakfast.
"Is Hank okay?" Cyclops asked as he spoon-fed his son.
"Yeah, he's fine," Bobby managed. He looked at the food on his plate and felt his stomach turning.
"Rory, you sit back down!" Jubilee admonished. The toddler was attempting to stand up in her high chair.
"No!" Rory replied. She picked up some food and squished it between her fingers.
"Just what in tarnation you think you're doin', young lady?" Sam, with a smile on his face, asked the girl. He got up and picked Rory up. The toddler rubbed her dirty hand on Sam's shoulder.
Conversation resumed as normal. Northstar reached for Bobby's hand. "What's wrong, amour?" he whispered. "You look sick."
"I think something's really wrong," he whispered back, as quietly as possible. Jeanne-Marie sat on her brother's other side and craned her neck around to hear better.
"What is it?" Jeanne-Marie asked.
Despite the fact that most of the others in the dining room were apparently distracted by Rory's petulant behavior, Bobby still did not want to be heard. He cocked his head towards the door, and the three made an exit.
"Is it something with Hank?" Northstar asked, as they stood in a semi-circle in the deserted corridor.
"No. You guys, I think Rogue's sick and maybe it's a miscarriage," Bobby said.
"What??" Jeanne-Marie asked. Rogue and Gambit's absence from the breakfast table had not been missed. They rarely rose early enough to eat their morning meal with most of the rest of the team anyway.
"I got a glimpse of her and Gambit in sick bay. She was sitting on one of the beds and they both looked white as ghosts. It looked like maybe she'd been bleeding. I….I don't know, but what else could it be? They looked….they looked like two people who had just lost a baby."
**************
Remy sat next to Rogue on the bed. After a while, she was tired of sitting or laying down, and she got up and walked around sick bay.
"My god Hank how much blood is there gonna be?" she asked. It was midday now. At this point, Rogue was standing, slightly leaning against Remy who was supporting her. Her voice had ceased shaking. She had been bleeding sporadically and didn't want to leave sick bay until it stopped.
Hank had spent most of the morning sitting at a computer screen, researching miscarriage. "It is difficult to estimate exactly how much blood you will lose. As of right now, the amount appears to be normal. I will continue to monitor you." Earlier he had shared with the couple that the bleeding could end soon or it might continue for several more hours.
"Could she get some kinda infection from dis?" Remy's hands were against Rogue's shoulders.
"It is possible," Hank answered. He struggled for words. "Sometimes tissue remains inside the uterus, preventing it from closing up. If that occurs, we will need to perform a procedure to clean it out and prevent an infection."
'Tissue.' The word echoed inside Rogue's head. It wasn't 'tissue', damn it, it was the beginnings of her baby. The beginnings of a dream. And it was a dream that was now coming to a tragic end.
Shortly after lunch, Cyclops stopped by the infirmary. He wanted to seek out Hank so that they could get to work on the engines. Hank told Cyclops that he would need to defer for today "due to a medical situation."
"Oh," Cyclops replied. He looked around the infirmary and, for a second, his visor locked with Gambit's eyes. Scott nearly seemed to flinch before saying something quick to Beast and leaving sick bay.
Suddenly Remy LeBeau was filled with hatred for Scott Summers. As he watched Scott leave sick bay, Remy had to clench a fist. `Dere he goes. He got dose two beat'ful children, dey had no problems. Not'in' ever goes wrong for dem….Goddamn him.'
Remy tried to halt that train of thought. It was true, of course, that Scott had two healthy children but his life had been no picnic either. `Hatin' Cyke ain't gonna make dis any easier,' Remy sighed to himself. Though for a moment or two it had actually had provided some sort of relief, a sense of stubborn self-righteousness. `I gotta rise above dat,' he said to himself. He didn't really want to, though, that day.
Hank's words interrupted his train of thought. "My friends," he began softly, "I am certain that the others will want to console you. Shall I tell them-----"
"Tell 'em nothin'," Rogue snapped. She then added, feeling guilty for her harshness, "Sorry, Hank. But I don't want any sympathy right now."
"I don't t'ink we ready for it now," Gambit added.
"Whatever you wish."
"Hank, if you gotta get to work on the engines, you can go. Ain't much for you to do here but watch me bleed." Rogue didn't know where the words were coming from or from where she even got the strength to speak.
"I would prefer to remain here, if you do not mind. I would like to closely monitor you and…." he paused, "and continue to study the subject of miscarriage. If you would like additional privacy, I can situate myself in the laboratory."
In addition to housing a computer station inside the infirmary itself, a room with a door that closed served as a lab/office for Hank.
"Maybe dat's not a bad idea," Gambit suggested.
*************
Around the end of the day, Rogue's bleeding tapered off and finally ceased. Hank examined her and felt confident that they would not need to perform a procedure to remove the any remaining fetal tissue. "As far as I can tell," he summarized, his voice quiet, "your blood loss has not been excessive. You should be alright."
Rogue nodded, not making eye contact with Hank.
Hank added that he would study the "fetal tissue" and attempt to determine the cause of the miscarriage. The rueful couple thanked him.
"If we need anyt'in', we'll call you," Remy said.
Hank nodded and took that as his cue to leave the couple alone. Gambit sank down into a chair next to the bed. For the moment, Rogue didn't have the desire to sit up. Sick bay was silent except for the even hum of a few pieces of equipment and the omnipresent sounds of the life support system,
"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?" Remy asked, breaking the silence.
"No," Rogue said. She remained laying down but did turn her head in her husband's direction. "Not now anyway."
"Me neit'er."
More silence for several long moments. Then Remy spoke again, "Chere, why don't you go ahead and cry. It will make you feel better."
"Can't do it right now. I jus' feel numb."
"Me too."
"And weak. Too tired to cry."
Remy reached to once again hold her hand. They had been in almost constant physical contact this day. "You want me to bring you somet'in? Maybe you oughtta try and eat."
"I can't. I'd just throw it back up."
"How 'bout somet'in to help you sleep?"
Rogue thought about it. Her mind felt as if frozen into a lifeless block of ice. Yet her innards still cramped and a dull ache assailed her heart and gut. Finally she answered, "That would be nice. I kinda like the idea of bein' knocked out."
"I'll call Beast back."
"Remind him it takes somethin' extra strong to knock me out." Her voice continued to be expressionless.
Just as Gambit reached for the communicator, the swooshing sound of the door moving aside was heard. No one entered sick bay; instead, a knock was heard against the doorway. Upon receiving no reply, Bobby Drake stuck his head through the doorway.
Bobby was carrying a large plant. It had a multitude of brightly hued, floppy green leaves. "I'm sorry for interrupting," he said. His voice was somber. "This is from the greenhouse. It's a gift from all of us. We---we're sorry about your loss."
Gambit didn't look at him. He had no energy to be angry that word had gotten out, despite their wishes. It was inevitable, he supposed. His only acknowledgement of Bobby was a nod. Bobby wordlessly set the plant down on one of the counters. numb
Rogue hadn't made eye contact with Bobby either but she softly muttered a thank you. Bobby quickly exited the infirmary.
*************
Scott and Jean each planted a kiss on Christopher's cheek before tucking him in for the night. Charlotte's bedtime was later. The parents sat down with their daughter and read to her until she nodded off. She knew now that it was not appropriate to vocalize the emotions of other people. "Uncle Remy and Aunt Rogue" were miserable, she knew it, but she also knew that enough other people sensed it and she should keep quiet on that fact. Her parents carried her to her bed where she fell into a fitful sleep.
Sitting down next to each other on their own bed, Scott and Jean felt tired and deflated.
"I feel so sorry for them," Jean murmured. She shivered.
"Me too. I can't even imagine what they're going through," Scott said.
"A plant hardly seems adequate to express our sympathies. But," she added, after a pause, "I don't know what else we can do."
Scott nodded. He sure didn't imagine that either Rogue or Gambit would want to talk about it, especially not now and especially not with him.
"I never realized how lucky we were," Scott said, after he and his wife had dressed for bed and settled underneath the covers.
**************
Jeanne-Marie and her brother were hanging out in the greenhouse, watching as Bobby attended to his plants.
"The one you picked for them was the nicest one," Northstar observed.
"Yeah. But a plant just doesn't cut it. I don't know what else we can do for them," Bobby remarked as he misted a tomato plant.
"Well, truly there is not much that we **can** do. It is their loss and they have to grieve in time, and in their own way."
Jeanne-Marie leaned against a wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "At least their baby was only a few weeks along. It wasn't even born yet! I had my son taken away from me by FOH, and he was seven years old then. I raised him, I loved him, and I had to part with him. Where is the sympathy for me?!"
"Mon dieu, Jeanne-Marie! Try to show some compassion!" Jean-Paul scolded. He bit his tongue to keep from making any choice comments about Stephan's brattiness or Jeanne-Marie's own self-imposed withdrawal from the group.
"Where was the compassion for me??" she repeated.
Bobby winced as he sensed what was coming back. Another tempestuous fray between the twins. He tried to tune it out as he resumed tending to his vegetables.
****************
Jubilee, Rory, Cannonball, Wolverine, Shaman, Wraith, and Nightcrawler sat inside the rec room. Due to efforts at conserving dilithium, the group agreed to only cue up Endarian films once per week. Virtually everyone had seen each Endarian movie they'd brought along anyway. So today no film would be shown, but the group still sat in a semi-circle. A deck of cards was parked on a nearby table but no one made a move to reach for them. No one spoke much either for a while.
"I hope the plant wasn't totally lame," Hector mumbled, finally breaking the silence.
"I wonder if her powers could've done it," Jubilee said glumly, after several seconds of silence had passed.
"She got control of 'em," Wolverine said.
"I know, but having a baby is different. Maybe she---" Jubilee broke off, not sure where her thought had been going. "Or I wonder if the coma she was in—or the mess with Dagron---could've had anything to do with it."
"Maybe there ain't any reason for what happened," Sam offered. "It coullda been just one of those things."
Hector nodded. "I read that one out of every five or six pregnancies ends in miscarriage." As Hank's medical assistant, he had read up on pregnancy as soon as Rogue announced that she was expecting. "And the earlier in the pregnancy, the greater chance of miscarriage. Rogue wasn't finished with the first trimester, and that's when trouble tends to happen. And scientifically speaking, early miscarriages often are nature's way of screening out future problems."
Jubilee absentmindedly looked down at Rory, who was currently playing by herself in a corner with a train set. The trains and the track had been constructed by Wolverine, almost entirely by hand.
`How can stuff like this happen?' Jubilee silently wondered. She loved her own daughter, but the pregnancy itself was the result of a gruesomely violent act, and there had been many times when Jubilee had not wanted to be pregnant. Yet Rory was as healthy as a toddler could be. Meanwhile, Rogue and Gambit loved each other, seemingly were ready to become parents, and they had such a tragic outcome of their first pregnancy. 'Is there any logic in this crazy galaxy at all?'
"I will pray for them," Kurt said. "I encourage all of you to do so."
"I will do so." Shaman said. After a pause he added, almost as if an afterthought, "Silver Moon and I lost a baby."
Heads turned to look at him. The former Alpha Flight member tended to keep to himself and spoke infrequently.
"Really?" Jubilee asked.
"After Lily Pearl was born, we tried to have another. Silver Moon miscarried in the first trimester," he spoke wistfully. "I truly believe that it happened for a reason. I might not understand that reason, but I know that it just was not meant to be." Shaman was then quiet for several moments.
"I wonder if they'll ever try to have another," Jubilee murmured after a while.
"They're strong and tough. They dealt with a lot worse and they can get through this," Wolverine said.
************
Rogue couldn't talk about it without bursting into tears. She didn't want anyone – not really even Gambit---to see her crying. Her lips stayed pursed together.
Gambit paced their small room. He didn't want to see or talk to the others and he didn't want to leave Rogue. At one point last night, he'd brought the plant from sick bay to their room, and he kept glancing at it.
Last night, Rogue had slept the sleep of the traumatized. Her dreamless slumber had been fitful. She woke up often, only occasionally fell back asleep, and finally rose from bed a few hours before lunchtime, with the sensation of having not slept at all. She threw herself in the shower, hoping it might rejuvenate her, but it didn't. After Remy dried her off and she threw on a bathrobe, she lay on the bed for hours. She was on her back, her heart beating rapidly. She tried to not think, tried to banish the sensations of blood flowing out of her, of life being sucked out.
"Let's go outside," Gambit suggested at one point that day. "It's sunny outside today. An' we gotta get outta dis room."
Rogue started to say that she had no desire to leave the room, but thought better of it. She dressed herself, and the couple walked towards the airlock. Fortunately by Rogue's perspective, they did not run into anyone in the corridor.
The pair remained outdoors for less than three minutes. The sunlight glared today; it pierced their sunglasses. And the biting cold remained, easily piercing through their coats, gloves, and hats. They eagerly returned to Freedom.
Rogue left her gloves on. At Gambit's quizzical look, she just shrugged. Rogue missed gloves. She realized she liked the feeling of layers protecting her hands.
"How 'bout a workout?" Gambit suggested.
"Nah. Remy, thanks and all. I jus' don't wanna do anythin' today."
Fair enough, Remy decided. They walked back towards their room.
"You go ahead and work out," Rogue suggested. "I'll be okay."
"You sure, chere?"
She was. After planting a kiss on his wife's face, Gambit made his way to the gym and exercised.
Rogue had resumed laying on the bed, dozing off and on as the afternoon went by. Never before could she recall feeling so weak. Gambit brought her a meal, but – though he pleaded with her -- she only ate a few bites. The dish of buttery black-eyed peas and steamed greens, favorites from her childhood, failed to rouse her.
Several hours later, a knock was heard at the couple's door. Gambit sat on a chair beside Rogue.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"It's Hank. I have some information regarding the results of the analysis I performed."
Gambit looked at Rogue. She gave a limp nod.
"Come in, Hank."
Hank stepped through the doorway. "I suppose I should dispense with the usual pleasantries," he began.
Gambit gave a half-hearted smile. "Hank, t'anks for all you been doin' for us."
"That is why I am here. Why I am a doctor. I believe that you will be glad to hear the information I have."
Rogue's ears perked up and she looked in Hank's direction.
"The miscarriage appears to have been a random event. As far as I can tell, it was a fluke and is due to no genetic….abnormalities between the two of you. My research suggests that in your case, the egg and sperm simply failed to divide as they should. In most such cases, it means again that the miscarriage was a random event. I must again stress that this is a common—though no less tragic---occurrence."
"So dat means we can try again some day." Gambit asked, though the sentence came out sounding more as a statement than question.
"Yes. I also wanted to let you know that I came across a recent study of couples who have experienced miscarriage. Out of those who have experienced two or three miscarriages, 55 to 60% of them eventually go on to have a baby. This particular study did not address those couples who had experienced only one miscarriage. In that situation, in all likelihood, the chances are even greater of one day having a baby." He looked at both Rogue and Gambit, and found their expressions almost unreadable. "I know that this news may not elevate your mood now; you must grieve for what you have lost. However, I hope that in time you might take this good news to heart. I have brought copies of the studies for your perusal."
He handed them to Gambit. "T'anks, Hank." He took the papers in hand without looking at them. The look in Gambit's eyes expressed sincere gratitude laced with a sorrow of unexplored depths.
Rogue looked at Hank too. "I'm so glad you're our doctor, Hank. I mean it."
"And I am honored that I am able to assist my friends through the most difficult times."
Beast then turned towards the door. "One final item. The…the others have expressed a great deal of concern for you. Is there anything that we, as your friends, can do? Do you wish to receive any visitors?"
Gambit had faced similar queries during his stint in the gym earlier that day. He turned and looked at Rogue. "Not right now," Rogue rasped quietly. "Maybe later."
*************
Nightcrawler had entered the bridge in search of solitude. He began to pray. Kurt lately had been focussing his prayers on a smaller number of items. He used to pray to God with a laundry list of requests, and then provide another list of items for which he was grateful. Lately he had pared down his prayers to focus on fewer matters.
He prayed for Rogue and Gambit, as he had done since hearing of their miscarriage yesterday. He then requested continued guidance in terms of being able to assist others. Northstar was not the only crew member who sought out Kurt for what had become, essentially, therapy sessions. Nightcrawler prayed that he would retain his listening skills and never misguide someone.
The door to the bridge opened. "Oh! I am sorry for disturbing you," Hank said. He started as if to leave.
"You have not disturbed me at all, Beast," Nightcrawler said. "I was just finishing up some prayers."
Hank nodded. Kurt looked at him and saw the weary sadness on his face. He knew that the doctor was a confirmed agnostic. Beast felt that humanity could not prove or disprove the existence of a divine being, and he therefore choose not to worship one. Although Kurt firmly disagreed with him, he did not dislike or resent Hank in the least over this matter. He held a mild hope that someday Hank could be persuaded to change his mind, but even if that did not occur—and the monk doubted it ever would---that fact did not cause him to dislike or look down upon Hank.
"You are welcome to enjoy the solitude of the bridge as well, of course," Kurt added.
"Thank you." Hank seated himself in one of the chairs. As with so many chairs, it was just small enough to cause him discomfort but large enough to accommodate him.
The two men sat in comfortable silence. Hank had sought refuge on the bridge and was glad to have it. He was tired of his quarters and he desired to spend time outside of the lab each day as well. Also, he and Scott decided to take today "off" in terms of not working on engine repair. Their preliminary efforts had been so frustrating.
The only sound on the bridge was the persistence of the life support mechanism. Hank enjoyed the silence as he reclined in his chair. He speculated that, despite their religious differences, he and Kurt had so many things in common. Both knew many of their teammates intimately, Hank from being their doctor and Kurt from being their confidant. Both indubitably saw their fellow X-men express some blistering emotions; they saw them at some of their lowest moments. And yet both were eternally steadfast and gentle. Both were also extremely trustworthy and would never betray a confidence.
Nightcrawler knew secrets that he would never divulge. He knew of, for example, Scott's fears of inadequacy in leadership and how much Scott craved Professor X's approval. He also knew of Scott's lingering guilt over his "evening" with Queen Marina. Nightcrawler knew of Jean-Paul's lust for Gambit and his painful guilt towards Bobby over those feelings. Wolverine had even sought out Nightcrawler a few times and confided a secret or two. Their confidences were safe with the elvin monk. He would never disclose any of them.
****************
Various X-men approached Rogue and Gambit over the next few days, many not without a measure of timidity. Gambit was an impenetrable shield, protecting his wife. "We don't wanna talk 'bout it," he'd say politely. The others would back off, usually saying something along the lines of, 'If you change your mind, we're here for you.' Gambit would watch them go, wondering whether the others truly wanted to hear of the pain they were suffering. He knew that none had any clue of the depth of their sorrow, given that none had experienced a miscarriage.
A few X-men raised their eyebrows upon noticing that Rogue had resumed wearing gloves. They knew better than to inquire about it though.
Gambit and Rogue ended up not talking much with any of the others. They willfully isolated themselves.
"I wish we could go away somewhere," Rogue said. "I don't wanna see anyone else but I don't wanna sit in my room anymore." The sensation of being trapped choked at her. "It's too damn cold outside though."
Gambit nodded, his head stuffy with boredom. He also craved an escape from their trap but knew to wish for one would be futile. "Chere, you gotta eat somet'in," he said. "You skipped dinner and you hardly ate at your lunch."
"I ain't hungry." Her hair hung limply and Gambit wondered whether she had washed it that morning. The shine had gone from her green eyes.
They went to bed fully clothed, huddling together in each other's arms.
****************
The day Storm had dreaded now arrived. Psylocke's voice came over the intercom one afternoon and flatly announced, "I've detected an FOH ship. We've changed course to intercept and should be there within 48 to 60 hours. Prepare for battle."
The cloaked Vengeance moved at a faster warp speed than the FOH ship. Storm, barred from the bridge, helplessly looked out a window and watched the stars spin by. Confined by the thick walls of the starship, she wished she had some degree of control over its – and her own -- course.
Dani soon found that Marrow took on a new dimension in bed, a more frantic yet more excited one. Afterwards, she gathered blankets and lay next to her lover.
"You sure you wanna do this?" Dani asked.
"Do what?" Marrow asked, yawning. She was very content now.
"Attack the FOH ship."
Marrow's heart melted – Dani must be concerned for her! She didn't want Marrow harmed in battle. "Don't worry about me, Dani. Psylocke paralyzes all of them before we get on board. So it's completely safe. There's like no fighting, so I'll be okay."
Dani rolled her eyes, glad for the darkness. "But are you sure you wanna torture and kill all those people?" she asked.
"They're not people, they're FOH scum. They got it coming to them, after all they did to mutants. Especially mutant women."
Psylocke had scanned several crew members' minds from a distance and had shared her findings with Marrow. All the soldiers on board that ship had committed rapes against mutant women, and most had enacted other violence and maiming against mutant males and females too. Psylocke had also shared another interesting fact with Marrow---there was actually one mutant male on board the ship.
"You…um, don't think you might feel kinda bad after killing a bunch of people?" Dani gingerly asked. "I mean, even if they're FOH scum."
"Feel bad? Hell, Dani I feel more happy and alive than ever after that." Marrow replied, yawning again. "You wanna sleep here tonight?"
"Sure." Dani sometimes spent the entire night in Marrow's room. She was tired, and the bed was warm with fluffy blankets. Dani's room was nearby but she simply didn't feel like getting up, throwing on some clothes, and crossing the hall. She would, though, need to be careful not to accidentally roll near Marrow, thus risking pricking herself against one of Marrow's bones.
A dinner had been planned for the next day. Neither Psylocke nor Marrow attended, which was not at all unusual. Storm broached the subject of the FOH ship.
"What is the name of the starship?" she asked.
Thyme looked at Roula. "I think Psylocke said it was the Conqueror," Thyme replied.
"They're going to be 'The Conquered' soon," Roula smiled.
Storm looked at Roula, the quiet woman who had prepared delicious Middle Eastern dinners. She remembered what she had once said to Moonstar, 'We are going to see all different sides of our crewmates once we attack an FOH ship.'
"So, what specifically will you do when you get on board the ship?" Storm asked. She kept any hint of judgement out of her voice.
Thyme went on to describe it. With the soldiers either knocked out from stun gas or psychically paralyzed at the work of Psylocke, the four women would go throughout the ship and pounce on whichever FOH soldiers they encountered. They would remove their weapons, bind their hands and legs, and wait for them to regain consciousness.
"Once they're awake, the fun really begins," Roula interjected.
Thyme then went on to casually describe the various methods of torturing the soldiers and allowing them to die slow deaths. "I never got the blood out of the clothes I wore last time," Thyme added.
Moonstar looked down at the red tomato sauce on her spaghetti and felt her stomach turn.
"What will you do with the ship itself?" Storm asked. "Once you've killed the crew?"
"The last one, we took its dilithium and a lot of its supplies and things like that," Thyme said. "Then, after all the soldiers were finally dead, we blew it up!"
"That seems wasteful," Moonstar said.
"I thought so too," Roula agreed. "But the others—especially Marrow and Psylocke----were really looking in the mood to destroy the ship."
"They were pumped for it," Thyme agreed. "I guess I was too."
There was silence for a bit, before Dani spoke, "Some people believe in karma. That like whatever you do comes back to you."
"Exactly!" Thyme said. "We're providing karma for those soldiers, giving it back to them."
Dani, seeing that her point had been entirely missed, resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Later that day, Moonstar happened to enter the gym as Marrow was in the midst of a workout. Upon seeing her, Marrow got up from her weight machine and planted a quick kiss on Dani's mouth. Dani didn't resist, though she couldn't say she welcomed such kisses either.
"So, what's your favorite part of attacking an FOH ship?" Dani asked, as she struggled to press the same weights that Marrow had easily been lifting. She looked at Marrow, clad today in a half shirt and shorts. Her body was compact, lean, and muscular in contrast to Moonstar's more rounded and curvaceous softness.
"The rapes," Marrow answered casually, nearly causing Dani to drop her weights. "I like gettin' back at them like that. Last time, I had about ten of 'em chained up inside a room. I tore off one of my bones and fucked one of them with it while the others watched. I had all of their mouths covered with duct tape and I screamed and yelled at 'em the whole time, lettin' 'em know I was getting back at 'em for what they did to mutant women. They were all scared shitless. I went back again and again to repeat it to all of them. They-----"
"Okay, stop!" Dani said. "God, I can't believe I have sex with someone who does stuff like this! You had better not bring any of this shit into our bedroom."
"Dani. I love you!" Marrow declared. "I'd never do anything like that to you."
"Last night, you were a little more rough than usual." Dani said evenly. She also didn't put much stock in Marrow's declaration of love. 'Yeah, she loves me the way a child loves its new toy,' she mused.
"Okay, then I won't be like that again. Shit, Dani, I'd never treat you the way I treat the soldiers. It's totally different. I do that out of revenge. But you…..how I treat you is totally separate."
"I dunno, Marrow. I don't know if I can have sex with someone who does this kind of thing."
Marrow looked at Dani and blinked. Was it a threat? Marrow didn't usually measure her words too carefully; she generally voiced whatever came to mind. Her first impulse for a reply to Dani was something along the lines of, 'You have to. That's why you're on board the damn ship.' But Marrow's instincts told her that such a statement wouldn't go over too well. So she said something else instead.
"Wanna come with? You might like it. They raped you too."
Dani was silent for a bit. "I think what you do to them would make me sick."
"It's been the best kind of healing for me."
"Well, I prefer to get my healing by doing things like playing my flute with Storm or meditating. Dismembering another human being just doesn't do it for me."
"If you change your mind, let me know."
They fell into silence. For several minutes, Moonstar attempted to begin her workout, but her body wouldn't obey. She wordlessly strode out of the gym. Marrow watched her leave and considered following her, but didn't.
***************
It was nighttime. Charlotte and Christopher had long since been put down to bed. Jean tossed and turned in her bed, having woken up shortly after a very light, dreamless slumber.
Gambit. Gambit was inside her mind again. During the nighttime, mental defenses go down and the mind is more vulnerable. Remy LeBeau did not wish to be inside Jean Grey's mind, nor she inside his, but the mental link-up they had created to revive Rogue from her coma sometimes prevailed against their wishes.
While awake, Jean performed one of her routine mental scans of the area, reaching as far into space as she could probe. Nothing. There were no foreign minds out there. As often as she could, Jean performed a mental investigation for the group's security.
She lay awake some more, attempting to shift into a more comfortable position. No such luck. She couldn't shake the desires her body felt and she could not fall back asleep. Jean remained awake for ten, then fifteen, then thirty minutes – though she was unaware of the exact quantity of time. She only knew that the time seemed interminable.
Jean needed only to pass Remy in the hallway, and she would receive a mental reminder of their link-up. As simply as one could overhear a whisper against one's will, Jean would pick up on Remy's feelings. As much as she did not want to, she knew of his anguish at losing the baby, his grief for Rogue, and even of his twinge of jealousy towards Jean herself and Scott. And---as much as Jean wished she didn't know of it--- his ambivalence towards the now-dormant prospect of becoming a father. His guilt pervaded the backdrop of his mental landscape.
Tonight, however, it was sexual desire that woke her from her sleep. The simple, hot, and persistent craving for sex kept her awake.
She didn't know if it was her own desire or Gambit's desire that kept her from sleep. Their emotions occasionally seeped into each other's. Again, neither wished that it would happen but it was beyond their control, especially when both of them were mentally and physically weary as they now were. And Jean also knew that Gambit had been without sex since prior to the miscarriage. His unfulfilled craving for sex was incessant; she could feel his constant physical need.
Along with those sensations, she was pierced anew by Gambit's guilt. That feeling disturbed her, weighed heavily on her heart. If she allowed herself to wallow in it, the sensation caused a hint of physical pain, requiring Jean to stop and take a few breaths.
The sexual desire continually throbbing against her, Jean briefly considered waking up Scott and asking him to indulge her. But her husband was tired after another long, monotonous day with the engines, and an evening spent playing with the two kids. Besides, Scott and Jean had already made love after lunch. She didn't think he'd be amenable to another bout today; he usually didn't care to make love more than once per day.
She did have the option of taking care of herself, but the idea of doing so while her husband lay sleeping next to her had always been somewhat distasteful to Jean, as irrational as she knew it was. She wouldn't do it.
She remained awake for several more minutes. Finally, she decided that she didn't want to lay inside that bed any longer; the warmth of it stifled her. She reached for her royal blue robe and tied it around her waist. She slid her feet into her fluffy slippers.
Jean found herself walking in the direction of the gym. It was as good a place as any, and perhaps she could walk around the track a few times to at least work off some of this energy she had.
The moment before the gym doors moved aside, she sensed the presence of another mind within the gym. For an instant, she thought it might be Gambit. His energy and thoughts had been keeping her awake; maybe he'd come her to let off some steam as well. But it wasn't Gambit. It was Wolverine.
Wolverine was laying on a weight bench, lifting a barbell over his head. Jean knew that he must've been able to sense her approach---either his pronounced hearing or sense of smell would have seen to that. He acknowledged her with a nod though the lights in the gym were dimmed, their full glare muted.
"I—I couldn't sleep," Jean began, suddenly feeling very foolish. She wondered why she felt compelled to explain her presence. "I thought I'd come here and go for a walk. I wish we were back on An'zhina," she added. She then decided to close her mouth. Who **didn't** wish they were back on An'zhina?
Wolverine muttered something along the lines of 'I hear ya.' Jean then walked in the direction of the pool and sat near it. She would feel silly just walking around the track in her nightgown and robe now. So she sat down and took a few deep breaths.
She wondered if the unfulfilled longing – sexual and otherwise – that she had been sensing might have been Wolverine's, instead of Gambit's. She didn't have the same mental connection with him as she possessed with the Cajun, but she was fairly well attuned to the sentiments of those she cared about it. As deeply as Jean missed Storm, she also sympathized with Wolverine for his temporary loss of the one he loved. The depths his loss were agonizing. As heartbreaking as his separation from Storm had to be, Wolverine also suffered – Jean knew – from sexual deprivation.
`What a miserable time for the team,' Jean ruminated as she sat gazing into the water. 'Rogue and Gambit losing the baby, Storm and Dani separated from us, Wolverine's missing her --- all while we're stuck on this freezing cold planet and while we corrupted that other planet, Nari Silara. And God-only-knows what's happening on earth in the meantime.'
A sentence popped into her head. 'Try not to despair.' The Professor said that to her once or twice during the X-men's early days on earth. Things had seemed so hopeless then; the odds had been so great. "And yet look at all we accomplished."
"What'd you say?" Wolverine asked.
Startled, Jean realized that in her now over-tired state, she had spoken the last sentence of her thoughts audibly. "Oh," she smiled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to speak." Jean's cheeks were flushed; the sexual cravings were still with her and she knew that Wolverine would have to be able to sense them. Given his deprived state, she knew she had to leave the gym soon.
"What were you thinking 'bout, darlin'?" he asked.
Jean shrugged, though she knew a normal person wouldn't be able to see it across the room. "I was just thinking about the team's early years. The things we accomplished and things we didn't." She paused, and then asked, "How do you feel about it?"
"'Bout the things the X-men did on earth?" he queried.
She nodded.
"We did a lot of good. We saved that miserable planet more than a few times," he said. His tone did not convey the optimistic spirit of his words though.
"Think of all the battles we fought, all the enemies we defeated. If the world had fallen into the hands of Apocalypse or Sinister, think about….." her voice trailed off. She then shook her head and asked, "Well, would it really have been any worse than the situation the planet's in now?"
Wolverine didn't reply. He hoisted the barbell over his head once more and slowly lowered it down. He had a terrible premonition that Storm was in danger, and he could no more assist her than Hank had been able to assist Rogue.
***************
Psylocke sat in a room with Marrow, Roula, and Thyme. The boredom she had been feeling was gone now, replaced by a measure of excitement and anticipation.
"A small ship with a crew of only 85," she was saying to the group. "One shuttle. They got one mutant man on board there with them. They use his powers," she said, the only explanation she offered for the presence of the mutant male. "We'll be there in 15 hours."
"I can't wait!" Thyme enthused. She and Roula were present at this meeting only for the purposes of them gaining information and functioning more effectively during the attack. Decisions for the ship and its crew were still made solely by Psylocke and Marrow.
"Is there anything else we should know about the Conqueror or its crew?" Roula asked.
Psylocke shook her head. She had just spent a few hours in the mind of the captain. When it came time, overpowering him would be a synch. "Just that they got a lot of dilithium. And even though their ship is smaller, it's too big to fit inside our shuttle bay."
"That's sucks," Marrow muttered. "A spare ship would be nice to have." Psylocke noticed Marrow's level of enthusiasm decidedly lower than it had been prior to their other attacks.
"Yeah, but we got shuttles," Thyme offered.
"I spoke with Storm earlier today," Psylocke said, changing the subject. "I reminded her not to interfere."
"Do you think she might anyway?" Marrow asked, feeling a jolt of coldness run down her spine. The Weather Witch was a most powerful mutant, one you did not want standing in your way.
"She and Dani swore not to. And I told them that if they do anything like that, I'll hunt down Freedom and blow it up."
"You think it might not hurt to knock Storm out before the mission anyway?" Marrow asked. "Give her a good psychic blast? It won't harm her but it would make sure she doesn't try to interfere."
"That's not a bad idea," Psylocke speculated, with a knowing smile.
******************
TO BE CONTINUED
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And, as always, I send a big thank you to beta testers Leigh and Becky.