Ever wondered what a deer must feel where hunting season comes around? Well, Remy could probably describe this feeling pretty well. After all, he was suddenly staring down on the barrel of 16 lasers, pointing straight at his skull.

"Merdre," Remy hissed low under his breath, feeling the adrenaline flooding his veins.

He needed his wits about him on this one, he knew. Almost automatically he formulated several, quick plans…

…okay so it was one plan…

…Alright, he had no idea, but he did know one thing: he'd rather face whoever it was out there than be trapped, unarmed, in here.

"Hello!" he howled, banging on the door with both his fists. "Anyone? Open Up!" When that didn't work, he moved left and began spastically punching the keypad. Bad idea because the movement caught the virtual 'eye' of one of the motion sensors. The only warning Remy had was a low hum before three beams of bright red lanced toward the back of his skull. But as his instincts were functioning better than his brain at the moment, the ragin' Cajun hit the deck just in time. The lasers refracted harmlessly off the wall.

"Okay den," Remy muttered to himself. "Moving's a bad ideah. Now what?"

He had nothing. No cards, no staff, no projectiles of any kind. And no patience for the situation, so he did what any frustrated, angry, and injured guy would do: he bolted right at the nearest gun.

Leaping futilely, he tried propelling himself up the wall to grab the barrel of the steaming weapon, but he missed by several feet because…well, white men really can't jump. Unfortunate, not only did Remy miss, but his antics carried him away from the safety of the wall and into the middle of the huge room. That's when things got interesting.

It was as if Remy was an ant and the room was just one giant magnifying glass. He sprinted towards the wall in one direction, a trial of searing hot light nipping along his heels. Breathing heavily, he hit the wall, palms out to cushion the impact. The laser cut out briefly. Remy had but a moment to catch his breath before the next laser picked up the heaving of his chest and arched towards his. The Cajun hit the floor, rolled to his feet, and started sprinting in the other direction. Out of the range of one laser, into the range of another, like a psychotic game of 'whack-a-mole'. Cussing up a storm that would have made even his brother cringe, Remy skidded into the opposing corner, his boots sliding lightly on the highly polished floor.

Instantly a gun protruding from the wall above shifted to aim point blank at his head. In a move that would have made Shamu green with envy, Remy used the glossy floor to his advantage, diving to his stomach and out of reach not a moment too soon.

Maybe it was luck, or the powers that be were just done harassing him, or maybe it was the force of the impact that did it. Either way, Remy suddenly had an idea as he was skidding across some hellish interpretation of a high school gymnasium. Scrabbling to his feet, he continued dodging and weaving. His timing would have to be perfect, but it wasn't as if he had a whole lot of other options (though being trapped in here for all eternity while he ran around like a hamster didn't really sound all that bad). Then, ripping the ace bandage off his neck, he tied it into a crude loop at one end and wheeled back the way he came; back to the low positioned laser in the far right corner. Remy was going to get one shot before the thing took off his head off and caused one hell of a mess.

He dashed out of the range of one laser, into the range of another, just yards away from his target.

"C'mon Rem," he muttered to himself as the gun in the corner repositioned, taking aim at him once again. He tore straight at it, hearing the loud hum as the weapon prepared to fire.

He leapt….

…and brought his arm forward, praying for the little bit of luck he didn't usually need. True to aim to loop of the bandage sailed over the barrel of the gun, and that was all he needed. Almost instantly the weapon began to glow violently purple. A nano-second before it could fire off a shot the laser exploded into a shower of electrical pieces and shrapnel, with Remy dancing in the middle of the chaos.

Still without his cards, but no longer unarmed, the odds against Remy's survival suddenly took a turn in his favor as the psychotic game of 'whack-a-mole' became a game of target practice. Using the twisted metal and plastic shards as ammunition he started taking out canons swiftly and efficiently. By the time that things stopped trying to blow holes in him, Remy was thoroughly exhausted, his battered throat aching without the support the bandage had offered. He coughed a little despite himself, and leaned back against the burn streaked wall, panting heavily.

Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off everything was starting to come back to Remy. Like the fact that he had no idea where he was. But the fact that whoever brought him here had this kind of facility at their disposal didn't do much to improve his first impression.

"Great," he said cynically. "One problem down, on'y a million more ta go." He was just about to attempt getting to his feet again when another one of those problems managed to solve itself: the giant, steel doors at the far end of the room parted open…

…And in strolled the redhead in the lab coat. The one who's heart monitor Remy was pretty sure he'd blown to smithereens about a half an hour earlier. She looked harried. Pretty, but in a frazzled, 'I don't have time for this now' sort of way, and there was a look in her eyes that clearly said she wasn't someone to mess with. The entire place, where ever it was, seemed to emit that vibe. She put both hands on her hips while she glared at him for a moment before finally saying,

"How about next time you try not running from your doctor, okay?"

Rogue, unfortunately, wasn't fairing much better than the Cajun. She propelled herself away from Carol's outstretched hand as fast as she could as her hands and feet could move her.

"No!" she barked in response to Carol's unorthodox request. "No, I can't." She pressed herself back against the far wall of her cell, injured leg throbbing painfully, glaring at Carol's limp, outstretched hand the way most people looked at a disgusting insect. Blood pounding in her ears, Rogue tried to keep the thoughts of the last time she'd used her powers from surfacing in her head, but she couldn't stop the images from re-appearing: Logan's claws in her chest, a pain so unbearable she almost couldn't comprehend it, and then the terrible, mind-warping feeling as Logan's thoughts, memories, emotions flowed into, and took over her very being. It'd been as if her mind had been sucked into a black hole from which it couldn't escape; she could see through her eyes and hear through her ears, but someone else was calling all the shots. She'd take pain over that sensation any day.

And deep inside herself Rogue harbored a secret that she'd never revealed to anyone. It was a fear that next time she absorbed someone, she might never get herself back again. It was a risk she really wasn't willing to take; she honestly didn't know if she were strong enough to.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Carol hissed in response, drawing Rogue's attention back to the matter at hand. "Someone's…gonna hear…you. Just listen, honey. I've…had a good life. Truth…be told I…I never expected to…live this long." There was a hint of long forgotten humor in here tone that seemed entirely out of place to Rogue. "Look Rogue…I can hear …hear them moving…in the other room. They'll be…be coming for you…soon. I know…things that might…might help you." Despite her slow speech, there was no sadness in Carol's voice as she spoke. "Consider…consider this my…last act as…a public servant." Rogue gaped at the bars that separated them. In awe? In fear?

Maybe a little of both.

But become a killer? Rogue couldn't, she wouldn't. How was that any better than what Magneto wanted? She rocked back against the far wall, pulling her knees in tightly to her chest and wrapping her arms about them.

"Rogue?"

The runaway sighed deeply before responding with a strangled, "I can't do it. I'm so sorry for you, Carol, but please, you can't ask me to do this. Don't make me the killer I'm already afraid of becoming!" There was a long silence during which Rogue heard a series of grunts and groans from the cell beyond. When Carol spoke next, her voice was much more audible.

"I'm sorry…tiger. For every…everything that has…happened to you." Rogue looked up from her knees at the clarity and volume of the woman's voice and peered through the darkness to the grate that separated the two. She felt her heart rise in her throat.

Carol was looking over at her through the bars. She'd dragged herself over on her hands and knees just to show Rogue what the girl needed to see. Carol's skin was pallid, stretched taught over her bones as if there were scarcely enough to cover her anymore. Long tendrils of dirty blonde hair dangled in her face, but there were giant bald patched streaked across her scalp. Her bright eyes heavily contrasted her ghastly appearance. Rogue felt tears spring up in the corners of her eyes as she crawled over to Car…her friend's side.

"Oh…" she exclaimed dumbly, completely at a loss for words. "I'm…Carol, I'm so sorry…"

"Shhhhhhh," the woman consoled gently, lying her face down on the rocky ground. She didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore. "Don't…be sorry. If anything Ro…I should be. I don't want…to have to…ask you…you to do this," she sputtered out, taking a rattling, deep breath. "…but I…know you're strong. Strong…enough to help me. Please Rogue…I need your…help."

Rogue doubted the validity of the former superhero's words. At the moment the last thing she felt like was strong. But there was so much sadness, so much pain on Carol's face that even she couldn't see another way out for the poor woman. She tried to speak, failed, and nodded instead. With shaking fingers, Rogue peeled the tattered glove off her left hand and laid it beside the grate.

"Do what…ever it takes, Rogue…to stop…stop Magneto." There was a dramatic pause before Carol spoke her last words. "Be the hero…I couldn't be." Then she latched onto Rogue's outstretched hand.

It was like jumping from a plane with no parachute. The room began to swirl around Rogue until she felt nothing; her entire body was numb to the sounds and sensations around her. There was a pounding reverberating in her ears, but whether or not it was the beating of her own heart she never knew. Her mind was thrown into a blender, whirling the 'I' and the 'Me' and the 'You' all together until they were inseparable from one another.

Then suddenly the free-fall stopped and Rogue 'hit' the ground. No more rushing and pounding in the ears. All was silent and still, and only the limp weight of Carol's hand in her own reminded Rogue that she still existed.

Her chest heaving, Rogue collapsed backwards, flat on her back against the cold rock floor. She shut her eyes tight against the darkness surrounding her, focusing on the darkness within. It wasn't like the times she'd used her powers before. Cody's voice, his thoughts, his memories had plagued her for months after their first kiss. In the far corners of her mind she could still feel Logan looking out through her eyes. But there was nothing in her head of Carol. No voice, no memories.

No trace of the woman whose body now lay in the cell next to hers.

Rogue would've given anything to have the counsel of Logan at this moment. What was happening to her? Why couldn't she feel Carol anywhere? Maybe because she'd…killed her, Carol's memories didn't flow into her. Maybe they passed on to the afterlife or something? That thought chilled her to the bone. She didn't want to be here, alone in a world that she knew nothing about. A pawn in some game for species domination. She was counting on using what Carol knew to help her out of this situation, to get her life back on track.

To stop Magneto.

Suddenly she found herself yearning to have Remy by her side once again. He'd know how to get out of this mess. But she didn't even know if he'd survived the attack in Louisiana. He could be lying dead there on the side of the road, strangled…

"No," Rogue said softly to herself, the sound of her own voice comforting in her ears, warding off the ominous silence around her. "No, can't think like that. He's fine, and he's gonna be waiting for you when you get out of here." That encouraged her tremendously. She was right, her main focus had to be on escaping right now. Worry about her powers and Carol's psyche later.

And that's when she heard the footsteps, padding softly towards her cell.

No time to think, just do. Rogue acted on instinct, formulating a plan that even Remy would've been hard pressed to top. She moved.

Rogue was in the exact same location, exact same position as the one she'd awoken in, save for one, tiny difference.

She lay motionless aside for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest in breathing. Her eyes shut tightly, she was a living statue, her body betraying nothing of the chaos tumbling about in her mind and the adrenaline pulsating through her veins. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer, the sound reverberating past her ears so loudly she could hardly hear herself think. But that was okay, her mind was just repeating 'don't think, go, don't think, go' over and over again. How the idea came to her, Rouge had no idea. Instinct, maybe. Logan seemed to put a lot of faith in his instincts. Maybe she was just learning to do the same, or maybe her unconscious had just put things together faster than she had. Either way, she was doing it. She didn't have any choice as she heard a dull, metallic clank. There was no going back now.

Her ears traced pictures into her head. A series of squeaks and tinkles as the rusty hinges of her cell door, well hidden in the wall, were forced open. Then soft footsteps as a figure came near her at an even pace, taking their time. Cautious? Maybe. But they got there eventually. Rogue didn't dare open her eyes as she was prodded in the shoulder roughly, then flipped over onto her back.

'Don't think, go!' he mind shouted at her.

Rogue surged upward, shooting her hand out in front of her, praying that it connected with bare flesh. Her prayer was answered as Rogue heard a cry of outrage…then pain as her victim fell to the floor before her. She clamped her hand down tightly, feeling her nails digging into bare skin until her captor stopped moving, then she let go.

Rogue had laid in the exact same location, exact same position as the one she'd awoken in, save for one, tiny difference: her left glove was lying next to the grate on the floor, beside Carol's limp hand.

And now Mystique was lying unconscious in the floor at her feet.

A/N: Oh no! What's going on with Rogue? Where's Carol? Why can't I get an A in bio? Well, you'll have to keep reading to find out (except about the bio, just ignore that)! Yes, I know there wasn't a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but don't worry, I think next chapter will rectify that problem. And, as promised, there will be another appearance of the X-Kids, including Jamie Madrox :) Now, go and review, just like last time. It completely made my day.

PS-Softball tryouts are over now and I made varsity again (yay!), so expect some of the usual updating delays, I'm not doing it for suspense, trust me.