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Ahhhhhhhhh!

Almost seventy reviews! Yeah!  *o*

I know it's been a *long* time since I updated (like three days, oh my god!) but I'm back. I had like totally seven hundred seventy eight million things to do (it's national exaggeration day). Gee. I really don't know where this fic is going and I also know no one is reading this.

Here's the magical key to weird symbol thingies:

** = telepathy

-- = intercom

~~ = thought

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"Like, good riddance I say." Kitty flipped her hair nonchalantly, "He was like, totally a freak."

"No more so than you pussycat!" Rogue snapped back, "What makes you think that just 'cause he looks different he's an animal?"

"Uh, well, let me think. Like, it might be the fur or something"

"Whatever. I don't care what you guys say, ah'm going to find him." The teenager slung a small duffle bag over her shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean? You can't just like, leave!"

"Watch me." Rouge slammed the door behind her.

"Don't you like, even care what happened to Scott?! Your 'brother' is like, one of the bad guys!" No response. "I'm like totally telling the professor!" Kitty yelled after her, and still there was no answer.

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"Lay still."

Many hands forcibly restrained him. The chrome table was hard and cold against his back; lights glared. All around him people were moving, he could feel their eyes.

"How many tubes?"

"Make it three."

A sharp prick. The blood, still hot rushed into the tubes. How many times had they taken his blood now? Ten times? A hundred? Kurt simply moaned. What else could he do.

"I said lay still."

There it was again. The voice of the woman, as gelid as the table on which he rested. A hand descended on his chest.

"His heart rate's up."

"Not surprising," snorted the woman, "With you and all of them in here? I'm lucky I get any work done."

Tight straps wound around his wrists and ankles. He struggled weakly, but to no avail.

"You sure you're okay in here alone McKenzie?"

Kurt blinked his eyes against the light; he saw the silhouette of the woman nod. There was a shuffling of feet and the Others filed out. The Others had no names, only voices and hands that brought pain.

"Ch…disgraceful." A small blanket was draped over him. "No reason he has to be naked."

The woman called McKenzie was the only one who spoke to him. Her voice was stony, but at least she talked…

"What's going to happen to me," his own voice felt tired and unused, as if it had rusted over.

Silence.

"I can't really say," the answer was terse.

"Please."

She was silent again for a long time. He could hear the machines whirring in the background.

"First I have to finish these final tests, and then Pathogen 237 will be introduced into your blood stream. You'll be placed in your holding room for the duration of the incubation period and…and then you'll be moved to the Chamber."

He closed his eyes wearily. His mind had long been preparing itself to die. Still, a pang of fear and remorse rose in his chest.

"Why?"

"It's research kid. I'm sorry." There was a slight tremble in the way she spoke, "I really am."

His throat was dry as the sedatives began to cloud his vision.

~I don't want to die…~

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The late summer breeze played through the stillness of the green trees. The air was so gently cool; the sun set beyond the hills so picturesque, yet Rogue was fuming. A rock bounced down the path in front of her. She grunted as she kicked it again. Everyone at the Institute expected her to forget about her half brother; they expected her to do nothing. She kicked the rock, sending it careening into the underbrush. And why shouldn't she do something? Why should she hang around just because Scott had gotten himself flattened? She kicked it again with all of her pent up anger.

"Arg! Watch it skunky!" Logan's gruff voice growled out of the scrub.

Rogue nearly dropped her bag in surprise, but feigned indifference.

"What're you doin' here?" she asked curtly.

"I was about to ask the same thing." He stepped onto the path and eyed her suspiciously.

"You tell me. Ah asked first."

~This conversation's going nowhere, may as well tell 'er the truth. ~

"I'm out lookin' fer clues, how about you?"

"Clues to what?" The southern girl asked, sounding distinctly more interested.

"To the whereabouts a yer missin' brother."

"Have you found anything?" She was by his side now, her eyes looked anxious.

"I've found a few traces of his, uh, unusual scent. Judging by th' smells, though they're old, he went down right around here."

~Really shouldn't be tellin' her this ya know. ~ His mind reminded.

"You mean he…he…" she paused, "Do you think he…got the disease?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, "How do you know about that?"

"Uh, ya know. Ah hear things…" She dismissed it.

"Anyway. No. I don't think he got it. There's no smell of sickness, and that's a smell that can't be missed."

"So what do you-?"

"I found this." He held out a small metallic object.

"What is it?"

"Tranquilizer dart."

She studied the dart, a small feeling of dread creeping over her.

"Listen kid, I know why yer out here. Yer lookin' fer 'im."

Rogue shuffled nervously, "Yeah, ah am."

"Well you'll never find 'im alone."

She looked up into his eyes. Grim determination shone back.

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Tune in next week (or whenever), same x-time, same x-channel!

Review!