I'm Not Myself

by AJ10

Rogue's having an identity crisis, she's just not herself. Will Gambit be able to help?

6. Painting the Roses Red

An update finally. It's a long one, for me anyway. Sorry, I had a freelance job, it had to come first.

A little unwell...

"Marie," he pounded on the bathroom door again. Still no answer, but she was in there. "Carol...Marie please, open the door. What's wrong...Marie!" he was pleading but he didn't care. It was three o'clock in the morning and there was something wrong. He didn't know what..the ten seconds it would take to pick the lock were too much time, so he just shoved the cheap door in. Her head didn't even turn as he burst into the room. The shower had been on, that much he knew already, it was one of the things that had woken him up. It was off now, but Carol was still sitting there in the shower stall with her elbows on her knees and her pale fingers tangled in her wet hair. She still didn't turn or look up. She just stared, her lips moving slightly like she was talking to herself. That still happened occasionally, although a lot less than it did at first.

"Carol?" The girl on the shower floor jumped, like the word startled her, but just as quickly went back to staring. She disentangled her fingers and wrapped her arms around her knees, as the cold from her wet hair was making her shiver. Kneeling down next to the shower he pleaded again, "Talk to me, please, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and with one hand, rubbed her eyes a bit, "Nothing. I was...just...a nightmare...it's nothing,"

He stared incredulously, "This is not just a nightmare."

When he reached for her shoulder, she jerked back like she had just been burned. "Don't touch me!" a pause and a deep breath, "Sorry, I didn't mean that, " but she didn't come any closer either. Instead, she stayed huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth just a bit, and avoiding his eyes.

No longer staring, but now her eyes were closed, and taking deep breaths, as if collecting her thoughts. For a what seemed a long time, she just stayed there, head in her hands and when she did talk, it was little more than a whisper, "The psycho... his name was Creed and he smelled like raw meat,"

For a few seconds, Remy literally stopped breathing. "Yeah, that's him." came out in a strangled whisper. "Did you know him or do you have a little bit of path in ya?" This could confirm his suspicions of her being some sort of psi. Of course, most telepaths had a hard time reading him, for what reason, he never knew, some screwy 'path thing. But she was obviously "reading" his nightmare. He had been dreaming about Genny that night, knew he would after telling Marie the story. She apparently had too, but knew a lot more details then he had actually told her. First time for everything.

"No...I don't ...know...Maybe I do know him...maybe...," drawing a long shuddering breathe she tried to smile, to laugh off her apparent breakdown. "Maybe if he comes after you, I'll ask him." Finally she started getting out of the shower, but didn't make it too far when her legs collapsed from under her. He wanted to catch her but also didn't want to scare her again. So he stopped himself when he saw she wasn't going to fall all the way. One pale hand hit an empty bottle of mouthwash as she caught herself and then sat down again.

The empty bottle skittered past his foot. It was just a little travel sized one that she always carried in her bag. The ragged sound of her breathe echoed through the tiny room. Her eyes stayed on floor, as he inch along the tile closer to her, moving slowly, so as not to startle her again.

There was no longer any question in his mind about her "minor" telepathic abilities, except for why she didn't remember them like the rest of her powers. Probably because they seemed to cause more trouble then they were worth, and she didn't want too. Whatever the reason, he felt sick to his stomach, thinking his memories had caused her this much anguish. He didn't want to relive that night himself, let alone make anyone else go through it. And she wasn't taking it well. Looking at the floor himself now, afraid to face her eyes. "Chere, I'm so sorry..." he was only inches from her now and experimentally tried slowly reaching out again. She didn't flinch this time, just let out a long sigh, closed her eyes again and leaned into his shoulder.

"Not your fault," she kept talking without looking up, the words muffled against his chest. He felt her give a weak smile. "It wasn't your fault. If you had stayed that night, he just would have waited." Her voice got quieter, "He wanted to wait until she was alone...he wanted to hear her scream." An uneasy feeling settled over him as he wondered why she'd think that.

Remy thought she had "eavesdropped" on his nightmare. She wasn't sure what had happened, but knew for certain that it was worse than that. Remy's nightmare wouldn't have known what that freak was thinking, smelling...the copper penny tang of blood she could still taste, despite the mouthwash, and the laughter still in her ears and on the tip of her tongue. The water couldn't get out the feeling of blood and skin under her fingernails. just a dream...just a dream...it's over now...Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, she collapsed completely against Remy's chest and buried her face in his cotton t-shirt. He was whispering something into her hair. Probably something meant to be soothing, but she didn't really hear, just buried herself deeper into the fabric until a fog started to drape over her fractured mind.

Through the Looking Glass...

"You must be Dr. Xavier," although the man speaking wasn't wearing a uniform he had the posture and perfect 30 inch stride that screamed career solider. "Colonel Nick Fury, come with me please," he said by way of introduction; he also clearly wasn't one to waste time on small talk. The professor barely had a chance to even acknowledge the other man before the Colonel spun on his heels and headed back to the same set of double doors he had just entered through.

Following behind, the Professor started wondering again what exactly this was all about. The previous morning, he had received a call from a military official asking for a "consultation;" a consultation on what exactly hadn't been disclosed. He was informed to go to a military hospital and he would be filled in there. As one of the most regarded experts in the field of mutations, Xavier had "consulted " from time to time with various government entities, so the call in and of itself wasn't strange. However, sitting in the waiting room of Walter Reed Medical Center for twenty minutes, not ever knowing who he was going to see, was.

"You understand that what you see here, stays here, right Doctor?"

"Of course, Colonel. I have worked with the government numerous times-,"

"I know. That's why you're here. I've got a patient for you to see. The docs here haven't been able to help her much, so I decided to consult in an expert," The emphasis he put on the word 'expert' didn't make it seem complimentary. "The suits in Washington may not have an "official" policy on mutants in the military, but a good solider knows better than to waste valuable resources." With that the Colonel stopped abruptly and opened the door to his right.

Inside was what appeared to be an ordinary hospital room. Monitoring equipment supplied a steady hum and occasional beep to the ambient noise level. In the center of the room was, of course, the patient. A blond woman, who appeared to be sleeping, but her monitors showed severely depressed brain activity. Xavier assumed from Fury's earlier comments that this particular patient was a mutant.

"This is Major Carol Danvers, US Air Force, recently attached to SHIELD." That caught Xavier's attention. Although he had a very good memory for details, he never could quite remember what the acronym SHIELD stood for. Something about Strategic Hazard Intervention...something or other. He knew what it was, of course. A special forces division of the miliary, only they answered directly to the Pentagon rather than through any branch of service. Their primary purpose seemed to be dealing mostly with counter terrorism and espionage.

The Colonel had continued speaking, "Maj. Danvers disappeared four months ago. Seven weeks ago she was found inside her apartment, in this state. The doctors think it was a psychic attack, but don't know how to reverse it."

Not wanting to fuel unneeded anti-mutant sentiment, Xavier replied, "It could also be brain damage. The symptoms are nearly identical. Was there any evidence of head trauma?" he made a show of looking at the monitors, but in reality was mentally scanning the patient.

"I told you before, she was found in this state. Not a mark on her. And for this particular soldier, serious head injury is very unlikely."

Charles looked up quizzically, "What is the nature of her mutation?"

The Colonel looked like he didn't want to answer that one, but he finally did, " She was practically invincible, I've seen her take a bullet at close range and barely flinch. She's also extremely strong, both reasons we think it was a psi and not a physical attack, and she flew. A regular Supergirl, that one... Danvers was one of the best soldiers I had, mutant or human. I "bent" several rules about women in combat positions to get her into special ops, because she was the best. I want to know what did this to her and I want her back. You're the mutant expert, she's a mutant, can you fix her, Doc?" the last sentence sounded almost like a challenge, as if the Professor needed a subtle threat to his expertise in order to want to help.

Charles sent an experimental thought tendril toward the comatose woman, while pretending to ponder Fury's question. Her mind did appear blank, but not empty. If the thoughts and memories were still there, he might be able to help Major Danvers access them again. "It's possible, but I can't be sure at the moment. I'm sure I don't need to explain to you that psychic attacks can be a varying in nature as physically ones. I'll need to see all of her charts, CAT and PET scans, MRI's, all of the previous tests and review them before I give a more definitive answer."

Coming Home...

"I hate flying commercial," Marie was trying to roll the kinks out of her shoulders as she and Remy stepped onto the airport escalator going down. They had just landed in Quebec and the flight was late. Delayed over two hours, pushing back the arrival time from 10:00 pm to 12:00 am.. And forcing her to stay even longer in tiny airlplane seats that were clearly designed for ten year olds. No normal sized person could ever be comfortable in them, let alone someone who more than anything longed to be flying outside the stupid plane.

Remy just looked over and adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder, "So, I've heard," over and over and over again.

Standing one step in front of Remy, Marie was splitting her attention between being annoyed with him for making her spend fourteen hours on a plane across the Atlantic and deciphering the airport signs. He's probably loving the fact that everything here's written in French. Her conversational French was getting pretty good after hanging around a Cajun for so long. A Cajun who had tendency to forget that being Cajun meant he was from America, not France and that English was actually his first language. Problem was, that was speaking French, not reading it. And she'd be danged if she was going to ask for help translating. Instead she turned around and asked pointedly, "Tell me why couldn't I fly us here? I flew us over the Ural mountains,"

"Yes, you did, and you dropped me in the snow,"

Casually flicking her hair back, "You were so asking for it,"

"Well, yes," he really had been, "but it was still rude." Thinking he was lucky she picked him back up again, he reached out started massaging her shoulders a bit as the stairs drifted downward.

"mmm..." her eyes closed and head lolled back, "mm..don't think that gets you off the hook, LeBeau. I could have gotten us here much faster and without the bad movie."

"But your way would have been much colder and wouldn't have come with free peanuts," that sounded logical enough. Rolling her head back and forth, stupid plane seats, she stretched her arms out as far as they would go. Since the cold didn't bother her, she was just wearing a white tee shirt and a short leather jacket. Her Christmas present. The green coat was more than ready to be retired. Having taken the brunt of the crash landing back in Madirpoor, its days had been numbered from the start. Only the smallest inkling of sentimentality made her keep it as long as she had. As her arms stretched back, the jacket fell open and the fabric of her shirt pulled tight across-

"What are you looking at?" Mid-stretch she had opened her eyes to see Remy looking down. She couldn't let that pass by.

Quickly shifting his gaze a fraction of an inch he answered in what he hoped was a nonchalant manor, "The escalator," it sounded lame even as he said it, but he had to go with it for now."That's some fine workmanship," he kept his eyes rooted to the metal step at his feet in rapt fascination.

"The escalator? Really? Oh, in that case I think there's a really nice section of the escalator a couple of steps down. That's some really fine workmanship," she nodded her head to where a blond woman stood. A woman who must also be a mutant if she thought she would last five minutes in the Canadian winter with the halter top she was wearing.

There was laughter in Marie's voice, so chances were good he wouldn't end up in the Atlantic, but no sense in digging the hole any deeper, "Nah, those steps aren't nearly the same quality. They look very cheap,"

Failing to suppress a laugh, "Well, I'm glad you appreciate quality."

She really should torment him further, he was cute when he tried to play innocent, not that she would ever tell him that. She couldn't really, it would mess everything up. That's why she didn't kiss him in Prague. Sure he was cute, well, he was gorgeous, and funny and sweet and... ...but...There were too many screwed up things already going on and this had the potential of being the worst. A silent inward sigh and instead of teasing him some more, she went back to looking at signs.

Before Remy had flown out of Canada for Asia, he had left his bike in long term parking here at the airport. His real bike. His "borrowed" bike he had left back in Russia, before the trip across the Urals. If the boy didn't want to get wet, he shoulda watched his mouth. With mass transit and the occasional other "borrowed" vehicle, they made their way across Europe. Until Monaco, where they caught a Delta back to North America. A stray thought popped in her mind that it would be terribly funny if someone else had "borrowed" his bike from the parking lot.

At the base of the escalator, she paused a bit to get her bearings. The airport wasn't crowded, so she could do this without fear of reprisal from hurried travelers. The Christmas-New Year's holiday rush had ended, so no one needed to be catching a plane this late. Christmas in Paris had been gorgeous and she even managed to drag him to a Christmas Eve midnight mass at a gothic cathedral. Not Notre dame, but another suitably impressive one. There had been just a brushing of snow covering the city and the lights viewed from the Sienne were incredible. Could have been her imagination, but there was a moment when she thought he going to try to kiss her again. He didn't, but if he had, she didn't think she could have turned away that time. At least he was still being sensible, even though I was turning to romantic mush.

Stop thinking about that, she lectured herself. Back to looking for signs. Muttering to herself, "Reclamation de.., that's baggage claim," which they didn't need. She had adopted his habit of traveling light. Carrying only duffel bag with a few changes of clothes and small essentials. It did make going through security easier, even if it severely limited wardrobe choices.

Still looking up, the corner of her vision registered someone stopping beside her. The sound of a bag dropping to the floor next to her feet was next and she just knew Remy was standing there waiting for her to ask for help in unlocking the secrets of French grammar. She concentrated on sending evil thoughts in his direction and swore she heard him laugh under his breath. There was familiar weight landing just above her shoulders and she felt his hand rubbing her neck again. It felt heavenly, but was starting to get very distracting. To her dismay, she was finding that more and more, she liked being distracted. Hitching her bag a little higher on her shoulder, she stepped off to the right. "This way," she called over her shoulder to the very distracting person behind her.

He had the decency to be little disappointed that his help wasn't needed. "Dang, ya just too smart for me, chere."

"I know," she sang lightly back.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

"A SHIELD agent? So the government's involved?" this was the first lead they had on Rogue's disappearance for months, but Scott had to admit it was completely unexpected.

"It would seem so. Jean and Hank are looking at the scans now to confirm my theory, but I've studied Rogue's power long enough to know the brainwave patterns left behind after she's used them."

"It doesn't make any sense though. What would the government want with Rogue?" Given the current political climate, the possbility of government involvement had been discussed, but also pretty much dismissed. They just had no motive for taking Marie and only Marie.

Even though it had only been four months, it seemed like she had been gone for much longer...Many of the students had already accepted the "fact" that she was dead. They knew the only way someone didn't register on Cerebro was if they were unconscious or dead. Magneto was the only person who had ever been capable of eluding the mutant finding machine and if she was with him...well, the Master of Magnetism had already tried to kill her once. Rahne, the tracker who had first found Rogue's disappearing trail, had come to him a week go saying that Marie deserved " a proper Christian burial," even though there was no body. If he thought it would help the children...no, students, (Jean always told him it sounded condescending when he called them 'children.' They were just so little...) he might of considered it. The "students" hadn't been told of this new development yet. Cyclops wasn't sure if they should know until there was more to go on, but the Institute was a tough place to keep a secret..

"No way the kid would have gone after this woman unless she's was attacked. You're not seriously thinking Rogue did this on purpose?" The quiet, stuffy atmosphere of the study seemed completely at odds with Wolverine's mood. They shouldn't be standing here blabbing, they should be going after this SHIELD person and finding out what happened to Rogue..

Idly Scott wondered if Wolverine intentionally misunderstood almost everything he said just to be contrary or if he was just bad at jumping to conclusions. "No, Logan, I'm not saying that. I can't even think how Marie would even know a SHIELD agent, let alone plan a way to take one down. I'm saying I can't think of any reason why SHIELD would even know about Rogue, let alone want to go after her."

Logan wondered that too, the kid was an awful small target for the big guns, but said, "Maybe it's a new government program; they're thinking about rounding up mutants, so they're going after a few of the smaller ones first to test out their program, weapons, or whatever, and see how hard it will be. The authorities know about that boy in Mississippi, maybe they found her from there. Or, most people know the Prof.'s into mutant research, so they camp someone outside of his place and hope to get lucky."

Cyclops thought about that, "And then go to the Professor for help when something goes wrong?" that seemed counter productive for a covert operation.

"Maybe they planned on the Prof. being in the dark, or maybe this Fury guy doesn't know what's going on. Charlie said he didn't have anything personal against mutants, just sees them as another resource.' Are you sure he was telling the truth?"

"He seemed sincere from what I tell. I couldn't get a good reading from him though, it appears he had mental shielding." Everyone turned and stared at that revelation.

"He's a mutant?"

"I don't think so. The shielding seemed to be the kind a telepath would place in another mind. Much like what the students here have. Purely defensively, to keep hostile psis out. Anyone persistent and strong enough could get through, but not without the person knowing. It appears that not only does Col. Fury work with mutants, he's prepared to fight them, too."

This just keeps getting better and better. Scott thought to himself.

Xavier continued with his fingered steepled in front of him. "Only Major Danvers knows what really happened. I'm going to proceed with her treatment. For security reasons, Col. Fury insisted that she remain at Walter Reed. I've tried using Cerebro to if see I can continue with her treatment from here, but I can't get a good enough lock on her mind to attempt something so delicate."

"Does she have the same shielding Fury does?"

"Mostly likely, she could also be naturally resistant to telepathy. I can locate her using Cerebro, but if I hadn't known her position to begin with, I quite likely could have missed her."

Logan inhaled sharply as he realized the implication of Xavier's statement. "Could that be why you can't find Rogue?" he pratcially demanded. "She absorbed this Danver woman's shields or resistance or whatever, so she not showing up on your gizmo?" Then, almost to himself, "That means she'd not dead." the last sentence sounded cautiously hopefully.

Scott was mildly surprised. Outwardly, Logan adamantly refused to believe anything had happened to Marie. It was understandable. Logan had promised Marie that he would protect her, but when she was in danger, there was nothing he could do to help her. He kept insisting that any day now he would find the clue that would bring her home. Inwardly, it appeared, he had lost hope, too.

"Not being able to work efficiently with Cerebro, will make things more difficult. But I still believe I should be able recover most of the lost memories," then he sighed. "It will just take more time," time they may or may not have.

Sometime during the Professor's lecture Jean and Hank had entered the study. Evidently done studying the scans. Wolverine didn't know Hank all that well. Seemed nice enough. He was a big guy, probably could have played pro football if it wasn't for the fact that he was entirely covered in blue fur and resembled a large gorilla. When the search for Marie was starting up, every available telepath was needed, so Jeannie didn't have time to play doctor to the rest of the school. Xavier had called in one of his old students, Henry McCoy, who had been doing private research, to help out.

"If I were a gambling man, which I'm not really, but that hardly matters, I would definitely "bet the farm", so to speak, on this being the work of our wayward mutant."

Nice enough guy, but talked way too much.

"I have to agree," Jean looked tired and a bit like she wasn't sure if this was good news or not. "Rogue was always very careful, but there were accidents from time to time. I kept records from all the people here that's happened to. The brain activity in these charts match those exactly. It's her signature alright." There was a click of her heels against the floor as she crossed the room to hand the files back to Xavier. Dr. McCoy on the other hand perched himself on the arm of a chair. That was another thing about him, talked too much and never sat down. Always climbing or hanging from something.

"Jeannie, if this Danvers is still in a coma, that would mean Rogue would still have her shielding, right?"

In his new found zeal, Logan failed to remember Jean hadn't been in the room for the mental shields conversation. Looking up, confused, but somewhat following his statement, "I guess, but we have no idea what kind of long term effects Marie's powers have-,"

"Well, we do now! You've got the charts right there"! Frustration was showing in Wolverine's voice. They were so close to something important he could feel it, but they were still sitting here bogged down in technically mumbo jumbo. "She puts em in a coma for a really long time. Then she probably runs off confused-," he stopped in a sudden flash on insight, " Professor, try looking for Danvers everywhere but Maryland. If Rogue thinks-;"

"I already have." Rogue took the personality of people she absorbed, it was an obvious conclusion that, in a transfer so complete, Rogue's mental patterns might "look" like Danvers. "I found nothing," Xavier could see the Canadian deflate visibly. "I will keep looking, but our best chance is still in Major Danvers memories.

"Are there really any lost memories to find? Rogue took em all." After having his hope rise only to be dashed again, Wolverine was approaching boiling point.

"We not entirely certain that Rogue's power's function that way. But there are memories left, deep in the subconscious and I will find them." he said with a certainty he didn't entirely feel, but Charles Xavier was nothing if not optimist.

"Ahem..." was the sound of Dr. McCoy clearing his throat in an attempt to get the room's, especially Wolverine's, attention. "The mere presence of a government agent does suggest a government involvement, however incidental such involvement may actually be. Perhaps we would be best served if, while the Professor continues with his investigation, we were to look into current SHIELD operations, Major Danver's unit in particular and Colonel Fury's present and past efforts. Discreetly, of course, if the military is directly involved, alerting them could potentially put Rogue in more imminent danger." There was a general consensus of unspoken agreement throughout the Professor's office. Scott remembered one of the things he liked best about Hank, his knack for playing peacemaker.

Logan had to grudgingly admit the logic, but knew 'discreet' would go right out the window if he found anything out that looked remotely incriminating. Even though it was the furry, blue doctor who had spoken, Wolverine directed his response to Xavier. "And what if you find out I'm right? That Fury and Danvers were behind this whole set up?" Wolverine looked like he was ready to act on that assumption right now. This was the first real lead and the closest thing he had found to a head to bash. Unfortunately the head was empty.

Very evenly the professor replied, "Then you will be right and Danvers will certainly know what happened to Rogue. No matter what, she is the last person who we know of that was in contact with Rogue. The date of both of their disappearances match and key to discovering what happened could be inside her mind."

"What's left of it," grumbled Logan under his breath, not sounding hopefully.

Painting the roses red...

"Ahh...Motel sweet Motel," There was something quite amazing about how all motel rooms managed to look exactly alike. Even in different countries. An interior designer's worst nightmare, hundreds and thousands of identical rooms. All with same tacky paintings, or prints of the same tacky paintings. Even if this was just another motel, she was excited. They were only a few hours from New York state and the good ol' US of A. Europe was great, but it didn't have peanut butter and the roads, and the cars, were all way too small.

Remy walked in behind her, as she tossed her duffle bag onto the nearest bed. He sat down next to it. Even the bed spreads looked to same. Well, not entirely, the ones in the last motel were more reddish. These ones looked like the ones in Germany.

Numerous annoying little kinks still plagued her shoulders and she thought darkly about the personal space in commercial aircraft. Her Cajun companion was now leaning back on his elbows, looking like he was feeling the long plane ride, too. Small wonder, she thought, the seats were cramped for her and he was a good six inches taller. However, he better not complain, being as it was all his dumb idea. The flaps of her jacket fell open again as she stretched her arms wide. In her peripheral vison she saw Remy immediately jerk his head the opposite direction and whistle. A preemptive attempt to avoid the "unpleasantness" of the airport. He really was adorable when he tried to play innocent.

An evil little thought popped into her head and she grinned maniacally. Casually walking in his direction, she made a great show of rubbing her neck and then she stretched again directly in front of him. "Mmmm....it feels nice to finally be out of that plane and away from all those people," She was mildly attempting to sound sultry, but was unsure of how well she was succeeding. He was looking everywhere in the room except at her and eventually his eyes fixed to a lamp on the night stand.

"Yeah, nice to relax," not sounding very relaxed and his glaze unwavering.

"Whatcha looking at?" she purred. Her hands were clasped behind her back, pushing her chest out a little more as she moved in even closer. She really shouldn't start this again, but couldn't help herself. Besides, she was sick of playing cautious.

"The lamp," he responded without missing a heartbeat. Drat, he was too prepared this time.

"Fine quality workmanship?"

"Definitely. It's real authentic...ceramic," He was suppressing a grin. Although somewhat concerned for his personally safety, he was enjoying her game. The black and red eyes remained on the "quality" lamp that was identical to every other motel lamp on the planet.

Leaning over, resting her hands on his knees, she looked in the same direction, "Hmm...it's nice," she was practically on top of him now, fight back giggles at the look on his face.

Fun was fun, but this was starting to get tortuous. "You're cruel, chere,"

"Moi? Cruel? Whatever do you mean?" some batted eyelashes for added effect. "I thought you liked pretty girls "talking" to you?"

A low chuckle. He did turn his head, but instead of looking at the lamp he looked straight up at the ceiling instead. The Atlantic was still too close to be taking any chances. "I don't even remember the last time I "talked" to any girl-"

"Oh, please. I find that hard to believe," With the way he constantly flirted with everyone...she wasn't jealous...it was funny most of the time...

"You would know, you're with me constantly...you ever seen me with anybody else?"

Her lip quirked, irritated at his logic trap, "Hmm...well, no, but ya are pretty sneaky..."

He laughed again still looking at the ceiling, "You doubt my love for you?" Expecting her to knock him over, he actually looked down in surprise when she did nothing.

Inwardly, she was berating herself for ignoring all of her logic, all of her reasons to be sensible. He had given her the perfect escape to end this game. Half a frown graced her mouth and she said, softer than before, " I really do hate it when you say stuff like that." She almost regretted the words as soon as she said them, almost. Tired of logic and being sensible, which was something she wasn't anyway. Roaming through two continents with someone who started as a perfect stranger was very un-sensible, and that hadn't phased her.

Somewhat lost, "Oh...sorry." Her eyes were a little downcast, but she hadn't moved from her position.

"I know you're just teasing, cuz ya like to bug me," She did shove him this time, but it was just a light tap against his shoulder. They did have fun together, she wasn't tired of their games, she just wanted them to end differently. And now that she was here, there was a fear that he wasn't seriously interested anymore.

"Remember, I think you're beautiful when you're irritated?" Again waiting for her to roll her eyes, smack him or something...

A small smile, "What about the rest of the time?"

Was this a set up? His mind tried to warn him of how cold the ocean would be this time of year, but the rest of him wasn't listening. "You're always beautiful, cherie," he keep his easy smile in place

"Betcha say that to all the girls," she looked away a fraction, but tried to sound playful as she flipped her hair over one shoulder and then her hand rested back on his knee again. "You're just horrible flirt, you're never serious," she sounded almost wistfully, or was he imagining?

"You should be able to tell by now when I am." That was true. Honestly, she knew him better than probably anyone else in the world, despite his jokes and his covering up. Looking at her intently, he wanted to see just how much her mood had changed.

"So are you?"

One hand went up to softly touch the side of her face. "What do think?" So close. Her face was hovering mere inches from his.

"That's not answering my question," her voice had gotten even softer. It was almost a whisper now. For once, words failed him completely. The look in her eyes was the one she always hid from him. But not now, he lost himself completely in it. Almost without thinking, he closed the gap between them, brushing lightly against her lips. He lingered there for a heartbeat, waiting for her reaction. Her mouth moved against his and she brought her hands to his face, gripping tightly as if she afraid to let go. The hand still on her face, he lost in her hair as he responded to her, tightening their embrace. Time slowed considerable as they stayed there locked together. Without breaking contact, his arms encircled her waist and brought her into his lap. From there they moved even closer together, although it would never be close enough.

She had already known that if he tried to kiss again, she wouldn't be able to turn away, but she never fully realized just how much she wanted that to happen. A dam had burst and she could no longer hold back feelings she never comprehended the full extent of. The leather of her gloves caught on the stubble that always adorned his face. Belatedly realizing that she was still wearing her gloves, she shed them quickly, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin. That small motion, though, moved her slightly away. To which Remy responded by pulling her in even closer than before, kissing her deeper.

As they sank further together, he heard her sigh and her kisses began to lighten. She pushed back a little, softly but firmly, her eyes still closed. Fighting the urge to pull her back to him, he instead held her loosely with one hand and the other he softly traced the outline of her face. Admittedly, things were moving a little fast, she needed a some breathing room, that was all.

"Sorry," that was probably the last thing her expected her to say. Was she apologizing for kissing him or for pulling away?

"I'm not. I've been wanting to hold you like his for a long time, cherie," fingers continued to stroke her cheek. "I am sorry if I was rushing you."

A short, soft laugh, "How many months has it been? I doubt most people would consider this fast." Her expression was taking on a distressed look, yet her face turned into his hand, relishing his touch.

Very gently, "Doesn't matter. I'd wait forever for you," hoping, but not knowing for sure if this was reassuring to her.

There was quiet. "This isn't a good idea," her voice was so soft he could barely hear it.. May have been talking to herself. "We talked about this."

"You talked about it. I didn't push." he was quiet, too. Still not wanting to push, but utterly unwilling to give her up so soon. "Cherie, please..." he grasped at her hand as she slid away and walked a few steps toward the window. Arms wrapped around herself, she looked down, not knowing what to say. Everything had been so perfect...

The distance between them was too far. In a few slow steps, he covered it and came to stand behind her, his hands lightly floating on her shoulders. "Marie..." Should he tell he that he loved her when she seemed to be afraid of him? If anything, he should be afraid. He had never felt like this before in his life and his amor was very close to rejecting him. Should he start smaller and just say how much he deeply cared for her? She spoke before he had the chance to decide.

"Something's wrong," feeling the tear of her heart ripping apart as she said it.

"What? Whatever it is I'll make it right," was his pleaded whisper.

"I... don't know...It's just...when I kiss you...it's wonderful, but something feels wrong. Like it shouldn't be happening...Maybe...there was someone, before..."

"Stop it, Marie. This can't be about your past, you don't want your past, all it does is give you nightmares." There was no response, but she slowly started to turn around. As strange as it was, she had no desire to think about her existence before Madripoor, could that really be what was stopping her?

There was no moonlight inside, but he could have swore it shone in her eyes. Everything about her was breathtaking. But the look of uncertainty, of sadness marred his perfect vision of her. "I know, I know..." she leaned her head against his chest and he released a slow breath,.

Not lifting her eyes, she stared at the hand resting on his shirt. Her gloves were still on the bed, and she felt nonsensically vunerable without them.

"This changes everything...Maybe... I just need a little time to think." finally looking up again. Those beautiful brown eyes were close to tears and then they looked away again.

"It doesn't have to change things. We can living like we were before, we're already together all the time, except now maybe I can look at you and not pretend that I wasn't," He waited for her smile and lifted her chin with one finger. "What I really want most, is just to be with you. To hold your hand when we go out," knowing that sounded childish, but not caring, "To kiss you good night. Everything could be the same, only better. I want to stop pretending we don't feel this way. I know you feel this, too." he knew she did, he could feel it in her kiss.

He was right, every word he said was right. So why didn't the nagging, wrong feeling go away? Desparately hoping he wouldn't think she was rejecting him, she looked up, "I do...I just...I think I still need some time to think. Maybe I'll just go for a walk, get a little air." The space between them increased, as she backed toward the door.

"Chere, don't go," he couldn't lose her like this.

A weak smile, "It'll only be a few minutes. I need to think and well, I just can't think straight around you," she tried to joke.

There was the door and with it, a looming dread that she would disappear out it and out of his life forever. "If you don't come back, I'll just have to assume something happened, and come looking for you..."

Another smile and she backtracked a few feet, "I'm coming back, I promise," with that she kissed him one last time, a brief gentle kiss neither of them wanted to end. And then she was gone.

It actually wasn't as cold as it could be in Canada in January. Plenty of snow lined the rooftops and gathered in huge, dirty piles against the edge of the sidewalk, but the night was clear and there was very little breeze. The leather jacket was more than enough to keep her comfortable. The night air did clear up her head a bit. Of course, that was also the result of being away from Remy and the impossible, wonderful feelings that clouded her judgement when he was near... What was it exactly that had spurred her need to "think?" Why couldn't she have stayed lost in their moment together? What if this...us, ends up bad? What would we do then? I can't lose him too. He's all I have.

That reasoning had been her biggest stumbling block since she realized Remy was interested in more than just flirting with her. For the first few weeks she couldn't take him seriously at all. It was fun to mess around, battle back and forth with their words But as she got to know him, she could tell when he was serious. Then she started worrying about everything little thing that could go wrong and convinced herself it was better to keep their relationship platonic. Although she hadn't been at first, she was willing to risk that now. But that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn't go away. There was nothing wrong, why did something feel wrong?

I'm thinking too much about this, was the final conclusion. The unexplained nagging feeling was probably a byproduct of her screwed up mind, like the occasionally voices. For more than the first time, she considered what any normal person would have done, having woken up in a foreign country with no memory. Should have gone to a hospital, my mess of a head would be fixed by now. Or it might not be, and I'd still be there. Her whole body was seized with an enormous chill thinking about that. A tiny room, the smell of blood and antiseptic, getting stuck by needles... Shaking her head to think about something else. Doctors and hospitals didn't sound good to her then and they still didn't now. She rubbed her arms as if she was cold.

Thinking too much again...I wonder what Remy's doing right now? Probably pacing, or fidgeting this his cards. Bet he's real nervous about what I'm gonna say when I get back. As if he couldn't tell...He had barely kissed her and she had been all over him in half a second flat. What other decision could she possibly come, too? The "wrong" feeling was fading very far back into her head, if it showed up again, she'd ignore it. It would fade, like all her minds' other little tricks did. The look on his face when she came back, would be priceless. She wouldn't even say anything, just run straight into his arms. It felt warmer now, thinking about how happy he'd be to see her again. The crunch of frost on the ground lightened as she slowed her pace, intending to head back. Feeling giddy and slightly silly, she smiled broadly to no one.

"Hello," Marie jumped and spun around at the unexpected sound and felt stupid for being so startled. There was an elderly woman standing in sidewalk. In the middle of the path she just come from. Sneaky little old lady trying to give me a heart attack... Should probably find out if the woman was lost or needed any help. A bit of the nagging feeling returned, but warped quickly into deva ju.

"A little chilly for a stroll, isn't Marie?" the strange woman said with warm concern.

Marie's throat closed and breath caught. For a few seconds, she didn't breathe, she stared. The stranger stood there, looking back at her gently and smiling. She was rather tall with silver hair pulled back into a loose bun. One arm held an old book the other rested on a cane, but she was standing very straight in spite of it. The dark glasses were her reason for the cane, she clearly didn't see well... The obvious question, "do I know you?" completely died before it fully formed; Marie knew the answer already anyway.

In the barest, most shocked whisper, "Grandma Irene?"

"Grandma" smiled, a genuine, warm smile despite the cold, "You remember. That's wonderful."

"Yeah, sort of." was all Marie managed to response. Had she traveled half way around the world, only to end up in her grandmother's backyard? No that couldn't be...

~"Grandma look, I found a catepillar! It's fuzzy, like a kitty." Little legs scampered over to show her find. Not really "show", Grandma couldn't see, but she could feel it. ~

"Marie? Are you alright, dear?"

The voice shook her out of her reverie. "Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been a little..." crazy?, "...I haven't been feeling quite..."

"I know, " the woman replied in the most understanding, grandmotherly-sort of way. She did? How?

"That's why I had to find you." the smile was still in place, reassuring. Marie wanted to be reassured, she remembered this woman. Really remembered, but her bothersome mind wouldn't be reassured. It nagged and it tickled...but I remember her...remembered playing in the yard, wondering why Mommy didn't come out and play with them...Mommy? Desperately she tried to bring images of her mother, but they didn't come, she remembered something else instead...

"You're dead," Her voice was abandoning her again as the younger woman backed away. Almost tripping over her feet in the process.

"Grandma" didn't seemed phased at all, "Yes," a heavy sigh, "Time comes for us all eventually."

"So who are you?" If this was a hallucination, it was a good one.

"I am- I was- a friend of Irene's. I came to see you, and I didn't want to frighten you."

"So you pretended to be my dead Grandmother?" that came out a little more shrieky more she wanted. "How did you even..."

"Why, I'm a mutant like you, of course," as if that was the obvious conclusion any half-wit could reach. Which it was, but Marie was still quite annoyed with how this strange woman-if she was a woman- smiled and talked to her as if she was a small child. If she pats my head, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions...she thought darkly.

In demonstration of the obviousness of her statement, "Irene" slowly began to melt. Flowing like candle wax, wrinkles eased into unlined, slightly darker skin. Silver hair shaded into black, and grew longer. The cane melted up, vanishing to who knows where, but the book in the crook of her left arm remained. The deva ju feeling didn't disappear completely with this new face. It wasn't familiar like grandma Irene's but there was something... The new person took a few steps forward, "See?"

Marie didn't say anything, just threw one of her more impressive glares, one that Remy would have the good sense to be scared of, but, of course, 'grandma' was utterly nonplused. "So, I'll say it again, who are you? What to you want? Why-How did you-,"

The new voice from this new face was still soft and concerned. "I can explain everything. My name is Raven. I was a very good friend of Irene's," if Marie noticed the way Raven stumbled over the word 'friend,' she didn't show it. Mystique had to tread carefully. This was the face she had always wore outside when they had lived in that horrible little house. So far, Marie hadn't had much of a reaction to it, but that was to be expected. She hadn't seen this face since she- left. "She wanted me to find you-,"

"She's dead," trying to keep up a defensive wall, she had every right to be suspicious of this person. Inexplicably, she wanted to trust her though.

"I know...Before she died, she "saw" something that would happen. Did you know about her powers?"

Several strands of white hair fell over her eyes, as she slowly shook her head. She was listening raptly, even though there was no reason to trust what 'Raven' was saying.

"She could see the future. This book was one of her diaries. We really need to talk-," a sound cut her off. Marie jerked her head in its direction. It had been a ripping and hard thud, like a body hitting concrete, coming from about thrity yards away and up. The rooftops. Two to three story building lined this street. She broke into a jog heading one building behind Raven. The were dark shapes on top of it and the noise of a scuffle continued. Suddenly, the flare of a small pink explosion lit against the clear, dark night. No! Those idiots!

"REMY!" she was in the air before Raven could stop her, a blur racing toward the roof. A quarter of a second after her feet left the ground, both dark shapes sailed off the top of the building. Easily discerning her almost boyfriend, she caught him around the waist as the other much larger figured thudded against the sidewalk.
"What are you doing here?" She asked as they floated toward the ground.

In between heavy breathes, "Following you," was his unapologetic reply. It wasn't that he didn't believe her when she promised she'd return, he just wanted to see her, try and figure out what she might be thinking. It beat stewing in the motel room and wondering. He had headed out only a few minutes after she had left, but ran into an 'old friend' along the way. At first he assumed, Creed had finally come after him, but then he spied Marie talking with some strange woman on the ground below. That's when things really got ugly. "Guess I must have set off the ambush early. Careful, there might more of em. " His gaze had found Raven below and he palmed three new cards, preparing to throw again.

His amour nodded as she lightly dropped him to the ground and stayed hovering. A quick look around showed the dark gray blob on the sidewalk moving again, the fall clearly not hurting him.

Raven hurried over to where the two were standing. "Marie, listen to me. This wasn't-,"

"Stay right there, lady!" Remy demon eyes seemed to glow slightly and his cards glowed more fiercely. He didn't have proof that this woman was connected to Creed, but he didn't believe in conicidences. Marie turned her attention back to the guy on the sidewalk, he was up now, shaking off concrete dust and growling under his breath as he advanced. The night breeze swept from behind him carrying an odor of raw meat.

"Stop!" Raven screeched, not sounding at all happy. But Marie didn't hear that and didn't notice the freak's actual compliance to Raven's order. Almost unthinkingly she flew at him and swung. Her punch was sloppy and she left herself wide open to a counter, but her fist managed to connect with Creed's head. It was Creed. she knew it was him and she wasn't about to let him get Remy. With a solid crack, he flew all the way across the street, almost through the wall of a store on the other side. There was much more damage as he hit this time, but she started over there to make sure he wasn't getting up. After going no more than two feet, her head jerked back. Felt like she had clothelined on something. Falling back, she felt something warm and clammy around her neck, choking off the air.. Remy still had Raven at bay, but spun around when he heard Marie scream.

She could breath, just not well. She was gasping, like she had been underwater too long. The world outside her eyes blurred and twisted. Pulling in one huge breathe, she inhaled air and what felt like fire. A molten metal seemed to flow in with the air, burning her lungs and seeping into the rest of her body. Burning away everything it touched. Pain danced as the fire grew. Spreading out to her skin which pricked and tingled, turning into ashes and embers, with red hot flares shooting back and forth over her. And as suddenly as the burning had started, it stopped. A wave washed over her, quelling the fires and filling her burnt out body.

Sabretooth really is a bloody idiot. We were supposed to be watching the girl and keeping that Gambit person away when Mystique wanted to talk to her. If there needed to be violence, it should be very far away, so the girl didn't see. But Victor had try to tear the boy apart right in front her . Wonderful. Mystique looked like she was going to stop it and settle things down, but the little Xavier brat was out for blood. This debacle had worked her up into a right temper. Better slow her down a bit, so the boss could say what she wants to say and then we can all go home. Well, I can go home, the rest of the lot of them could go wherever. It's too cold here.

The girl's new and improved powers will make her a lot harder to fight. How'd she manage to trade the old one in for a better one? Several better ones. If I vansihed off the face of the earth for a few months, could I trade in the jumping for flying? That would be fun. Flying not the vanishing. Well, best be trying to do something. Sneak attack, nothing big, just enough to stop her for a couple seconds so Mystique can get a word in edgewise. Grab her around the throat, knock the wind out of her, that should do it. She got a lot of skin showing there, though. Wait, new powers, I don't have to worry about that anymore...

Her hands went to her face as she doubled over. The wave, it was wonderful and cooling but it was too much; she was drowning in it. She fought back against the rush of water. Swirling and going under in the riptide, choking on rushing water and a strange voice.

At her scream, Remy spun around and went to Marie. Some green freak had come out of nowhere and grabbed her around the throat with an elongated tongue, of all things. But within a second, the guy had gone pale and collapsed, releasing her. But chere, was still on the ground holding her head.

"Maire," a whisper floated from behind him. That woman started toward the fallen girl and Remy finally let go of the cards he had been threatening her with. She was only blasted back a few feet, and that charge wouldn't be enough to keep her down for long. Curiously, she had actually sounded concerned.

"Are you alright?" he reached down to help Marie to her feet, but she jerked back. She looked up and confusion filled her... yellow eyes. Her eyes had taken on a strange yellow cast and her skin was a sickly, pale green. Froggy boy must have done something to her. Crouching down beside her, "Marie? How are you feeling? Can you move, because we have to get out of here." He reached for her hand again and this time she jerked back so violently, the pavement cracked when she landed again "DON'T TOUCH ME!" she shrieked and like a backwards falling star, shot straight up into the night sky.

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Longer chapter this time. Some actual plot, mushiness and an attempt at an action scene (those are harder to write than they look!.) Tell me if improvements need to be made. I took some liberties with describing how Rogue's powers worked, but in the movies, it always looks like it hurts. I know in the movie never showed Rogue absorbing Sabretooth. I'm pretending it happened off screen. Maybe he bumped into her while she was being held by Magneto or possibly she tried to escape. Her powers don't hurt him too much because of his healing factor, so it wouldn't have effected him for the rest of the show. I just got that scene into my brain and it wouldn't go away. And did anyone els think that "Scream for me" line was way creepy. Final note, in my little universe, Logan doesn't know Carol and she's just an ordinary mutant, no funny Kree DNA stuff.

Just as I finished writing this chapter,Ii thought to myself, "Are the signs in Quebec airports really all in French?" I know people speak French there, but since Canada has two official languages, maybe the signs would be written in both. Tell me if I'm wrong, maybe I'll go back and try to fix that scene.


ishandahalf- Rogue can make Gambit fall for her anytime, without even trying, but she falling pretty hard herself now. I didn't really mean to rant, too much. I do like the movies (I liked X2 better) I just like Rogue being able to kick butt and the movie still needs Gambit! I know his name was on the computer screen, but that doesn't count, dang it! If it did then Omega Red and Franklin Richards were technically in the movie.

Raquelle-I do want to show how the X-Men are dealing with all of this, but I get sidetracked with the Rouge and Remy. Updates from the mansion will be popping up from time to time though. I managed to work in a couple here..

Muccamukk()-Why do you think they came back to the States? If you want to take over the world, where better to start than Washington DC? Muhahaha. That really could be a fun story to write. You like comics and the movie angle? That's good, I was worried about that part. There has been so much back history in the comics, it's hard to simplify it to work in the movie setting. Mystique will talk about Irene more later on.
Muccamukk()-I always appreciate the review count going up. :) I did mention Jean at the beginning, though she didn't do much, but she's stuck in the story now. I started this story before X2 came out, thinking that once it did, I could probably still work this story around what happened. Never realizing they were gonna kill Jean off. Should have figured though, Phoenix being such a big, classic X-men story. I guess this is an AU story now. Poor Logan is frantic, he promised Rogue he'd protect her, but there's nothing he can do.

healthnut()-Yes doughnut are incredibly bad for you (all the really good things are), but I don't think I guy who smokes, cares too much

Pyrophobic(at weddings)()- Fires are bad. Even worse than the cake falling down. (it really did, just like on America's Funniest Home Videos.) There was almost a fire. Heather (my sister) had tikki torches, (it was a beach theme) all throughout the yard. And this was in Nevada, where the plants are very, very dry. I appointed my little brother as fire lookout and then I just blew half the torches out myself an hour into the reception.