Chapter 7

The night sky had passed over them and morning had come. The sun was shining brightly and the fire left bruises behind. The sound of silence would only ring in the ears of the deaf. But to those who did not hear, but listened, would know moans and small cries lingering in the clearing air. The air that had been covered with smoke just the night before.

Jean raced from person to person on the blankets pulled together to make one. She aided anyone who she heard moan or even sigh. She tried to do as much as she could do at once. She opened the cap to the wooden bottle of water and poured it down the thirsty and coughing man before her. She embraced young children with bandages and wine, she managed to retrieve from the things left over on the territory, for those wounded with bad bruises, scars, and cuts. She looked at a boy who was about twelve years old laying on the blankets Scott and her had put over the ground as beds. She knelt down to him in her filthy and torn white dress. She wrapped his swollen red and blue cut hand in a bandage after she had done her best to heal it. She did not dare to look into the eyes of the boy. Instead she moved her green eyes carefully to where Scott was. Across from her lifting broken objects off of helpless people.

She watched Scott lift it with strength and energy and winced at the pain she knew he felt in his back. But what was she supposed to say to him? She had never experienced pain such as that, she could not say it was alright. She had never experienced an attack such as this, how could she say it was alright? She caught Scott's eyes as he caught her stare and did not move away. He gave her a reassuring look in his eyes with no expression on his face. But Jean knew. She watched him lean an old woman on his shoulders and hold his head strong as their leader. She knew he was capable of being a brave leader. It is going to be alright, Jean found herself mouthing the words with her lips as Scott blinked twice at the words he heard loud and clear.

He watched as Jean aided the helpless people he knew and loved. He did not know what he would do without her. What kind of heart this girl possessed, he knew not. But what he did know is that it is made of the clouds from Heaven. He let out a silent sigh as he carefully set the woman on one of the sheets Jean and him had set up on the ground. He looked around and found very few people who were uninjured helping those who were. Him, Jean, and the very few who were uninjured spent the rest of the night saving those in the midst of the fire and injured by what the fire had damaged. There were many who they were not able to save and many who had been captured and taken away. His parents.

Scott had not wanted to let go of Jean. He wanted to stay in her arms forever. In there it was warm and soothing. So safe and quiet. Away from reality and into a painting. But he knew he had to break away for his people. They needed him. He had backed away from her with a tear streaked face and met her green eyes. They both choked back sobs as reality once again suffocated them. Without a word they had lifted each other off the ground and spent the entire night building what the soldiers had broken and destroyed. The rain helped with the fire and so did they. But first and far most was to help the people, in which they were still doing this morning.

When Jean had found time to ask him she did. She held onto his wrist and gripped it tenderly. "Where's Logan?" Jean had asked as she swallowed hard. "Ororo?" But Scott just ignored her. "Scott, where are Logan and Ororo? Where are they? Where are they Scott?" Jean's innocent questions rang in his ears like a high-pitched sound of a bell. He turned away from her and looked straight ahead. All he had said in reply was, "As if animals were taken away in a cage. A cage. A prison."

Someone suddenly grabbed Scott's hand to interrupt his thoughts. Scott suddenly remembered the mysterious person who had rescued his life. The only thing he could remember seeing was a sword against his enemy's sword and the feel of a cold hand. He looked down, not to find a person capable of saving his life, but an old woman. Her wrinkled skin and tired black eyes touched Scott with a dry feel. He gave her water as she started to cough. But she threw the bottle of water back at him. Scott backed his head away and knitted his eyebrows curiously at the woman.

"Let me die," the old woman said as she barely bent her fingers to make a fist and coughed into them. Scott's forehead lines deepened as he listened intently. "Let me die." Scott was left speechless. "God will give me another chance. God will give us all another chance." Scott breathed deeply at her words and watched as she shut her eyes, wrinkles forming around her eyes. Her deep tanned complexion seemed to fade in the beating sun. Her shaking old hands rested on her stomach as her breathing began to lessen. "Let me die," she whispered as Scott reacted to the sound he heard screaming. He got up and scurried over to the woman screaming loudly with fear and sorrow.

He looked at Jean, who was already sitting next to the woman, trying to calm her down with soothing words. He bent down to the woman swinging from left to right. The side of her neck and a little of her face was burned from the fire. He cringed at the sight and creased his eyebrows, not knowing what was wrong. He listened to Jean's soothing words and tried to come in with his own but was too late.

The woman began to scream and cry at the same time. "WHERE'S MY CHILD?!?!?!" she exclaimed with helplessness. "THEY TOOK MY CHILD!!! WHERE'S MY CHILD?!?! THEY MURDERED MY CHILD!!! WHERE'S MY CHILD?!? HE'S GONE!!!" she exclaimed and screamed and cried with hurt dripping in her voice. "She's gone, she's gone, she's gone, she's gone," she muttered as she fell back on the sheets and cried with anger and emptiness.

But all Jean and Scott could do was watch. Her child was dead. Slaughtered. He had never had a child to know the feeling of loosing one, he could not say it was alright. He looked over to Jean who was watching the woman with a scrunched face and helpless eyes. But she was there. He turned to face the woman lying on the ground crying as he whispered lightly.

"It is going to be alright."

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"No one seems to know where she has been all night," one of the countesses whispered lightly to her daughter as she made sure the queen's back was turned. Queen Elaine pretended not to hear when that was all she could hear. People began to talk about her daughter's whereabouts when she had already informed them that her father had taken her out. She had requested from him not to come to Church today and he had agreed after a little argument.

She knew her people were talking about whom her daughter might be with through the night and what she was doing. She had warned Jean that her actions had consequences when she was royal. Her business was everyone's business. She could not understand why Jean could not accept that fact. People were talking about how she might not be pure for her husband. How she was a whore and a secretive prostitute. Maybe they should talk about her that way. For all Queen Elaine knew, she could very well be all of those things.

But as a queen of France she could not go gallivanting off, looking for her daughter. They had told her the soldiers could not carry out her request to retrieve her daughter because they were taking care of official business with people who did not obey the law. So Queen Elaine had just left it to herself to deal with her daughter when she came home, which she was sure would happen.

She thought she had told the servant girl, Kathy or what not, to take good care of her and where she was. But she did not have to ask anyone where she was, for she knew. It was time to take matters a little more seriously. No more games. Her betrothal, reputation, and future ruling of France depended on it.

Queen Elaine looked straight forward at the cross in the front of the church, up the red carpeted stairs and towards the glass tainted windows. She blinked twice with impatience and waited for the time to pass to go back to her palace and deal with her daughter. It was better than listening to the priest. She respected him, no doubt, but how could she even know what words meant when she did not understand them?

"How could a princess, much less a woman act the way she is acting? She has no morals," she heard a woman two rows behind her whisper lightly. She did not deny the words they were speaking. They were right. Her daughter had no morals.

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Hours after hours passed and the orange and pink sun melted into the ground behind the hills. The gentle light shown upon the river, which glistened like gold. Jean leaned on the swell of her hip with her knees bent beneath her. She rested her left leg beneath her right, her torn white dress flowing over them. She rested her palm on the earth's surface and glanced at Scott's bare back as she dipped a clean rag in the bucket of water she had retrieved from the river. She listened to the comfortable silence and breathed in relaxation. She listened to the gentle flow of the river running downwards against and over the boulders.

After a day's work of helping their people Jean had brought Scott down to the river to tend to his cuts, bruises, and hurt back. Scott did not want to be seen hurt by his people and Jean wanted to take care of him. His bare white back was painted with dry blood and a small burn in the middle. Jean lightly touched the burn in the middle of his back. She ran the very tips of her fingers over it as she felt goose bumps form beneath her fingers.

A rush of warmth ran through him. Her touch was so gentle, so soft. He laid upon the brown earth and laid the side of his face on his folded arms beneath him. He was turned the other way, when what he really wanted to do was look at Jean's face. To just place her in front of him and look at her. He wanted to taste her, to embrace her. Only Jean could see him like this. Hurt and helpless. He closed his blue eyes as he felt cool water against his skin that he was aching to jump out of.

She lightly tapped the rag against his skin. All she had was water at the moment. The alcohol and wine was used by the others who were injured. Jean wished she could tend to his needs more properly, but this was all she could do at the moment. They were both feeling sorrow, especially him, for loosing Ororo and Logan. But the least they had was each other. That was what they would mend the broken with for now.

Jean blinked back glistening eyes and sat back to stare. She stared at his bruised, yet soft back. Her legs were away from his body while her head was beaming over his back. She moved the rag up as it traced drops of water upon his dry white skin. She did not hear a peep out of Scott. She admired his bravery. To rule a country was one thing, but to live in it was another. He held in his pain for his people. She unconsciously found herself caressing her fingers through his hair. She felt him shiver at her touch when the autumn air was as warm as the summer air was.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked with a cracked whisper. But Scott was silent. He knew what the truth was. She was hurting him. Hurting him emotionally by touching him the gentle way she did when he knew she would never be his. His feelings and thoughts were speaking all at once. But his thoughts were interrupted as she began to move the rag to where the bruises and cuts were, tapping the rag lightly with repeated movement. When she was done she brushed his chestnut hair away from his face and motioned for him to get up with her hands. He was going insane.

She picked up the roll of white cloth off the ground next to her to wrap around him. She began from where the cuts began, mid-way on his back. She held the piece of cloth with her finger as she brought it around the front and towards the back again. Every time her hand would go around his stomach, filled with abs, he could feel her breath on the skin of his back. His mind was taken over with her touch and her presence. Scott thought about what love could do when love happened to people. He suddenly felt dizzy and aroused with desire. When did his feeling grow so strong for his best friend?

Jean could smell his scent through her whole body. He smelled like the earth and felt so warm, as if she was touching a piece of the sun. Only a piece. If only she could have the sun as a whole. Her finger lightly brushed the front of his chest while she was wrapping the bandage around it. She felt his body tense. Her reaction was to close her eyes and feel the warmth of the sun across her face. She did not want the bandage to end it's roll. But it did. So she tied it in a double knot lightly and gave a small smile. She placed a small kiss on the top of his back as she heard Scott take in a deep sigh. She wanted him to turn around so she could look at his face. But she just laid her cheek against the skin on the top of his back.

Scott made sure this moment lasted forever. He looked at the setting sun and the dim sky. It was getting dark, but stars were coming out. "Jean," Scott whispered lightly as he turned his head to the side. Jean was silent. But before he could approach his next sentence correctly a man was seen at the top of the pathway full of leaves and surrounded by trees.

"It is a miracle," the man, Jean knew was a friend of Scott's said joyfully. "Ororo is alright. She is safe. She is with us."

Jean and Scott both jumped up and looked at each other. Scott let out his hand for her to put it in his and they both scurried towards their people. No matter how many questions ran through their heads, the important thing was that one very important person had been saved.

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Queen Elaine exited the church with her poised posture. She looked straight ahead and smiled politely at everyone leaving the church. Her head was held high and her position was royal. She floated down the steps as someone came running towards her.

The well-built man had black hair and deep blue eyes. He was quite masculine with large muscular arms and a bulging chest. He dropped to his knees and touched the queens feet. "Get on your feet Sir," Queen Elaine said with curious eyes. The man obeyed slightly. He got on his knees and put his hands together with pleading eyes.

"Queen Elaine, you must do something about it," he said eagerly.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Hank McCoyman," the man said solemnly.

"Yes, what do you need from me?" Queen Elaine asked as everyone who had crowded around them listened intently. Queen Elaine looked down upon him as he tried to find the right words to speak.

"You have to stop what they are doing in the Americas!" Hank cried.

Queen Elaine let out a little laugh as she covered her small gloved hand over it. She looked over the crowd and then back at the odd man. "And what exactly do I have to stop?"

"The English, the French, the Irish, the Spanish and everyone or anyone who is depriving the natives of their land!" Hank exclaimed. "It is unruly and selfish!"

"I am sorry," Queen Elaine spoke with enthusiasm, "but we cannot do anything about it."

"I am a scientist and I have discovered some of the words of their language," Hank spoke quickly. "It is quite fascinating. But I have found that they are unhappy of the destruction of their land and invasion of their people."

"There is simply no solution to that," Queen Elaine said with an apologetic voice and shrugged it off. She began to walk back to her carriage as Hank followed after them saying word after word.

"You are the queen of the country. You could send them all back………make a compromise with the other royals of other countries………provide homes for the natives…………trade with them instead of overtaking them………learn more of their culture……" Hank babbled as the queen got in her carriage. "EVOLUTION IS NOT FAR!" he yelled back with his hands flinging the air. "Soon, the king and queen of the country will become something different as evolution takes it's course," he whispered lightly with a sigh as he watched the carriage ride away in the distance.

The scene that had just happened disappearing from her mind as if it was as simple as breathing.

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Jean and Scott ran. They ran to her. The leaves crunched beneath their feet as they ran to a half-burnt carriage Ororo was sitting in it with a bottle of water in her hands. When she saw them running towards her the wooden bottle made a noise as it dropped to the floor. She let out her arms to embrace them both warmly. Jean wished her mother could embrace her in her own arms, if even for a small second. She leaned her head into Ororo's shoulders and felt like crying. She closed her eyes and smelled the smoke on Ororo's clothes. Which was like the scent of flower to her right now.

Ororo kissed the tops of their heads as Scott smiled upon Heaven that had sent him a miracle. A mother was a miracle within herself. Scott looked over to Jean who had her eyes closed and her heart open. He wanted to keep the picture of her now in his head forever. She looked so peaceful, so fulfilled. Scott escaped his mother's arms for fear of too much sentiment. He looked upon his mother's face with joy. He picked up the bottle of water that she had dropped and popped the cap open. He gave her water with his hands touching the bottle lightly and gently. She smiled at him and answered so kindly with beautiful words. "Thank you son. I only wish I could thank my mysterious rescuer. But the mysterious person had disappeared so suddenly and I was just regaining consciousness."

Scott knitted his eyebrows as he listened to his mother. Something unusual suddenly caught Scott's eyes as he was taking in the surroundings of his home, although burnt. A black cape blew from behind a tree a few feet away. Scott's eyes were fixated on it. He hopped down from the carriage as he heard silence behind him as to what he was doing. A few seconds later he heard someone hop lightly off the carriage also. He automatically knew Jean was behind him.

They both slowly neared the tree, fearful of what may be hidden behind it. Scott turned to Jean who seemed unfearful. Her eyes looked as if they had experienced something equal to this. Scott and Jean turned to the other side of the tree and saw a black cape filled with something inside that was in a heap. Scott realized it was a person inside when he saw the black cape shaking. He placed his hand upon what looked like an arm beneath the cape. Scott's touch was gentle and welcoming, but the cold person would not come out from under their hood.

Jean took action and brought the large hood down slowly to reveal wide gray eyes. They were scared, but kind gray eyes. The woman's knees were pulled up to her chin and she was shivering wildly. She was covered in gray and black from head to toe, except for her face and hair. She was beautiful. She had long, thick, dark brown locks flowing down her back and across her shoulders. Her creamy pale face looked like porcelain. Her lips were plump and painted red rose. Jean felt a twinge of jealousy when she caught Scott slightly staring.

The mysterious woman looked back and forth from Jean to Scott with shivering lips. "Do not worry Madam. You are safe here," Scott said kindly as Jean let out her hand. It was two minutes of silence until the woman put her hand in Jean's. She was lightly brought to her feet with her bent down and her eyes glued to the ground.

"What is your name?" Jean asked politely. The woman did not seem to understand her. She did not seem as if she knew the language.

So they waited. They waited until a small peep and scared voice spoke with a whisper, "Rogue."

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Author's Note I hope you liked that little cameo of Beast (Hank McCoy). I am always inspired by songs for my stories and this chapter was inspired by the songs, "Someday We'll Know" by Mandy Moore and Jonathan Foreman, and "Only Hope" also by Mandy Moore. Beautiful songs (tear).

Please review. The threat with not posting this chapter because of no reviews did not work. Only one person reviewed (thank you Mark C) and I can't hold off on posting it that long. But I am now in the process of writing my eighth chapter with no power of a muse because of lack of reviews. So review if you want to know what happens next.