It was as if a giant vacuum had been fastened to her entire body. Her muscles were being wrenched from her bones. Her chest was suddenly too heavy to move. Each breath was a struggle to draw in. The world swirled and swam around her, the scenery fading into a blinding white glow. Another scream echoed in her ears, but whether it was her own or not, she couldn't tell. The pressure of the cuffs on her hands, the feeling of the floor beneath her knees suddenly disappeared as the swirling white vortex pulled her down. The screams and shouts of a cacophony of voice roared in her ears as she shot in and out of memories not her own, dipped into times not her own, existed in a body that no longer felt like her own. Trapped within that tumbling place inside her mind, she fell…

…The swirling stopped. The ground beneath her was solid again. The floor belonged to a room. The room trapped her. They attacked the instant Rogue let her guard down. Magneto, jeering at her in his haughty way. Mystique, anger raging in her yellow eyes, dove at her. They knocked her onto her back. The clawed at her limbs voraciously. Mystique's hand found its way into her hair, and used it to wrench her head back, slamming it against the floor. She cried out, despite herself. Mystique leaned in close to her and smiled dangerously, before slamming her head back again. Lost in the torrent of pain and motion, she failed to notice that Jasper was there until he drew back his hand. Jasper cuffed her hard across the face. Jasper was kneeling on her chest, but he was surprisingly light. With all her strength, she arched her back, sending Jasper crashing to the ground. He hit the floor, then promptly vanished.

It made no difference. Mystique and Magneto needed no help. One of Magneto's blows drove her off to her side. She saw there was a means to their madness. The pair was dragging her. They were forcing her towards the edge of the white room. She could just make out a sharp drop off. A well that didn't appear to have a bottom.

"NO!" she screamed, kicking out madly. "N," she protested again. Magneto silenced her with another blow to the mouth. They were going to throw her down that well.. They were going to kill her…

The two X-Men, the Canadian, and the Cajun gazed up at the torch before them as if it were the summit of Mount Everest. Unscalable, unreachable, and yet still their goal. The torch was beginning to glow brightly, and another scream echoed through the night air, telling them that the machine had, indeed, been activated. Logan was beside himself. If he knew it wouldn't have been a futile gesture, he would have tried to leap the distance between the head and the torch on his own. But he knew that his death would do nothing to save Rogue.

"Storm," he demanded in a rushed voice, "can you hit it?"

"Yeah, if I want to kill her along with the rest of us," she confessed. "Granted, that option is still on the table, but let's keep it there as a back up plan, okay? Any other bright ideas?" Beside her, Jean reached out with her mind, seeking Rogue's. Maybe, if she could get inside the girl's head, she could turn Magneto's powers off. But, despite knowing that the girl was there physically, she couldn't find her. It was as if her mind didn't exist.

"I can't reach her!" she exclaimed frantically. "The radiation is creating too much interference." Frustrated, she took a telekinetic swing at the machine. It did about as much damage as trying to stop the thing with a fly swatter would have. Focusing all her mental energies, she 'reared' back to take another crack at it, when the torch flame exploded.

Flying steel and Plexiglas rained down as Magneto's creation, and the growing white radiation coming from it, became visible for the first time. The rapidly spinning ring gained speed, and at the center of the vortex was a limp figure, slumped down, being held upright only by the chains around her writs.

"No!" Logan screamed into the night. "Time's up, ladies!" he shouted. "Get me up there, now!"

"Logan," Storm protested, "all that's going to accomplish is me launching you out to sea." Her voice rose in pitch to match his. "We don't need to bring another dead body home at the end of this."

"If we don't stop this now, there's going to be a lot more than two dead bodies to send home," he shot back. "I'll risk it, now launch me up there!" Storm conceded. There was going to be no arguing with the man, and no one else had a better idea anyway.

She backed up and grabbed onto a guardrail behind her. Jean did the same, and yanked Remy along with her.

"Hold on tight," she shouted at the Cajun, above the growing roar of the wind within the viewing chamber.

"Jean," Storm commanded, "help me keep him steady." The redhead nodded and kept Logan aligned on the jet stream as he began to rise into the air. Tumbling about, Jean kept a firm, mental grip on him. That didn't stop the ride from being wild, though. Tumbling about in space, Logan tried to focus on the target as he whirled around. Despite his best efforts, he almost flew over the top of the machine. Jean saw, and gave him a mental shove back down. It was just enough. In a blind grab that would have made the Yankee's best shortstop green with envy, he got a hand on the top crest of the contraption

It was enough.

Storm cut the power instantly, and Logan dropped onto the crossbeam. She shot Jean a nervous look out of the corner of her eye as Logan launched himself down between the ring rotations and out of sight.

"Now we wait," she whispered, her fingers crossed beneath her cloak. With baited breath, the three mutants stared at the spreading wave of radiation, growing ever closer to the innocent victims on Liberty Island.

"Something's wrong," Jean whispered, looking at Ororo frantically. "It's taking too long." She shook her head in disbelief. "Too long…" A thunderclap echoed outside in response.

"We have to go," Storm declared. "Now! We'll fly out the top. I can carry the kid," she said, whirling to grab Remy. "We have to stop this-where's Remy?" she demanded. Jean spun around too, surprised to find that Remy was no longer standing behind her.

"No!"

Remy had been surprisingly quiet as the girl had launched Logan. He was physically exhausted. The back of his neck burned, he ached everywhere. A telltale pain in his side told him that Toad's kick had busted a few ribs. There was a bleeding cut above his left eyebrow, where he'd been hit by a piece of fly glass. He was a mess, he was in pain, but that wasn't the reason for his silence.

He was focused on being a thief. There was something in the back of his mind that was bugging him, it was right there. And just as Storm called for a retreat, it hit him. The little lightbulb came on over his head, and he practically flew from the room, ignoring the shouts that followed.

"I doubt whoever built dis this ting could fly," he muttered as he ran down the stairs, back the way they came. "An' someone's gotta be able to keep get up dere when things start fallin' and breakin' and stuff." He skidded back out onto the museum floorm which looked as if a tornado had swept through. Rubble and broken glass lay crunched beneath his boot heel, remnants of their fight with Toad. No matter. He turned around, still talking to himself.

"Torch is on dat side," he ran along the wall. "Arm must hit about…here." He stopped before a wide dislplay case that, upon further inspection, turned out to be bolted to the floor so as not to be moved. The glass panes of the door had been broken in during the battle, but the wooden frame was still intact. "Not fo' long," he said to himself, drawing out a quickly thinning handful of cards. When they began to glow, he hurled them into the obstacle.

"Dere's always more den one way ta skin de cat," he muttered, before the display case exploded, revealing what Remy hoped it would. Behind the smoking rubble, an off color piece of steel had been screwed to the wall. It was taller than him, roughly door shaped, and after a touch of his finger, it was no longer there anymore.

The passageway behind reminded Remy of the catacombs located beneath a graveyard, a stones throw from the property border of the Guild home. As boys, he and Henri, among others, had spent hours venturing as far into the dark passages as they dared to go. It was a test of will and bravery: who could go the farthest before getting scared and turning back. Remy held that record proudly, and it was still unbroken to this day, though many boys had tried. However, what those boys didn't know was that Remy had simply walked into the first vacant tomb he came to, and sat there playing solitaire until he beat the previous record. He'd spotted the loophole right away actually. The boys measured how far a guy went in by how long he was down there.

"No point in takin' de long way, when de answer be sitin' right dere in front o' you," he'd told himself as he counted the passing minutes. No longer a sneaky boy of 13 though, Remy shoved that memory to the back of him mind as he plowed into the passage.

It was pitch black inside, he noted, keeping one hand on the wall so that he would know where he was going. Beneath his fingertip, the steel hummed and vibrated.

"Ah'm sure dat can't be good for de foundation," he said, his other hand stuck straight out in front of him. Beneath his feet, a ladder ran along the entire length of the arm. In some places, as it was now, the ladder was horizontal, running along the floor. In others, it went 90 degrees straight vertical. The angle changed continually, and more than once did Remy trip over it, or plow head on into a field of steel when the angle of the floor shifted drastically depending on which part of the sculpture he was in. But he was running on as fast as he could move, brushing cobwebs as thick as bed sheets off his face, and forever keeping one hand on the wall.

Climbing up once more, Remy was beginning to panic, expecting to feel the building erupt in a shower of lightning any minute now, his head slammed into the ceiling.

"Merdre," he cussed. Wrapping his legs around the rungs of the ladder, he ran his hands along the ceiling. Judging by his touch, he hadn't hit his head on the ceiling so much as he had on a giant, steel loop. It was a door handle for a hatch, like the kind on a submarine. Gripping it hard, Remy put his full weight into turning it.

It didn't budge.

"Sonufabitch," he swore, trying again. The handle groaned in a whiny way. "Screw 'dis!" He charged the entire hatch, and, dropping down a few rungs on the ladder, ducked as a giant wedge of steel dropped inches from his head. But it was followed by an influx of the warm, night air, and a horrible siren-like noise, so the Cajun knew he'd made it.

With a leap that would have made Catwoman jealous, he jumped up, grasping the top rung of the ladder with his hand, and flung himself through the hole. The scene that met his eyes was astonishing.

Logan was poised, claws drawn, in mid-swing at the machine's main support post. However, he was still enough to be mistaken for frozen, because Magneto was lying in front of him. Despite his weakened state, Erik's hand was raised, pointed directly at the Wolverine. Oblivious to the two men, Rogue still hung from her cuffs, however her hair now sported two pale streaks in it. The white radiation engulfed them all, and it obscured Remy's vision enough so that he couldn't tell if she was breathing. He resisted the urge to go to her, though, as the spinning rings would have taken his head off quite neatly. Instead, as he climbed through the hole, he picked another target: the exposed back of Magneto, who hadn't yet noticed that Remy was there.

Swiftly, he closed the distance between the hatch and the ancient mutant, and with one, swift motion, he hit Magnus on the back of the neck. The blow knocked the man forward. It theory, it should have knocked him unconscious, but instead his hands shot out to catch him, and his concentration was broken. It didn't knock Erik out, but it did enough. As if a giant, invisible hand hit the play button again, Wolverine suddenly finished his swing with a feral scream.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Adamantium claws cut through the support post like it was made from butter. Remy ducked his head as the steel frame fell to pieces, and momentum hurled the spinning ring out to sea. In a flash, the air cleared of all radiation, just yards from where it would have reached the fleeing crowd of the summit.

It wasn't a complete success though. In front of Remy, Magneto recovered, and he took advantage of the chaos. He raised his hand up and, pointing it at Logan, closed it into a sharp fist. Without warning, Wolverine's eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped like a rock. Before he could turn, though, Remy swung again. This time his aim was true, and Magnus slumped against the torch guardrail in a similar fashion.

Screaming in protest, she tried to wrench her hair from Mystique's grasp. She kicked her feet, she dug in her heels, she did everything she could to slow her forward progress, but it wasn't enough. Mystique swung her around, dangled her over the void by her hair. She screamed. Mystique smiled and waved before dropping her. She shot out her hand as she fell, grabbing the edge of the wall.

Mystique was pissed, and tried to step on her fingers. Tried because Logan appeared from nowhere. He growled, and grabbed Mystique, flung her away. Then Logan ran to help her out of the void. Magneto got to him first, grabbing Logan by the shoulder and flinging him down. Logan tried to get back up, but Magneto hit Logan again, and he went flying backward.

"Rogue, no!" Logan shouted. "Hang on, kid!"

She tried, she tried so hard, but she couldn't do it. As Magneto's boot heels came down, she heard something crack, and suddenly she was falling, plunging into the dark abyss below. Tumbling and spinning, she lost all sense of sense of place as the white light from above faded away.

"I'm dying," she said aloud as she fell. It wasn't a cry, just a statement of fact. She didn't know who she was, but she was dying. It wasn't so bad, she decided. She wasn't even in pain.

Suddenly…

There was a whoosh of air, and she slammed into something from the side. She slammed into it hard. The thing stuck to her. Clung to her?

She didn't know. The air was blowing her hair down now. She was moving back up.

"That's not right," she said. "I'm falling."

"Not anymore, Tiger," replied a voice not her own. So she was connected to a person. How strange, she thought. "Hang on, I've got you," the voice told her. She did as instructed, wrapping her arms around the person. It felt warm and squishy beneath her. She looked up.

That light, it was back again. Above her this time.

"It's back," she told the person.

"Rogue, focus!" the person instructed her. She was confused. She couldn't focus. Who was Rogue?

"Who is Rogue?" she asked aloud as light shined down all around them. The person finally became visible in the light. She recognized the face…and didn't.

"You are," the person told her, short, white-blonde hair whipping in her face. "This is your body, Rogue, your mind. You have to focus," the person told her as they landed on the white ground again. "You have to fight!"

Magneto was there. Logan was there. The person was there. She looked at that the unknown person first.

"Who are you?" she asked. Behind her, Magneto moved to hit her. Logan hit him first. She shied away from the commotion.

"My name is Carol. You know me." She studied the Carol person. Gray eyes, pale hair. A black leotard, with a yellow lightning bolt across is, and a red sash at the bottom of it. A mask over her light eyes.

"No I don't," she said, and turned away. Logan had fallen down. Magneto came at them now. Carol pushed her away as Magneto went to hit her. Carol grabbed him and threw him into the wall.

Logan disappeared. Mystique came back.

Carol grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back up. "Rogue, you have to fight this. Remember me, remember how Magneto hurt you, hurt me! He wants to control you now, Rogue. You have to stop him." Magneto was back on his feet. He grabbed Carol's shoulder. Carol hit him in the gut, and he went flying backwards. Carol grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Carol never saw Mystique coming. Mystique kicked Carol in the back. Carol flew forward into her, and to her surprise melted into her.

She screamed.

The voice in her head screamed. They screamed as the memories swallowed them whole. Images, emotions, feelings. She saw love, she saw hate.

She saw herself.

A prisoner.

She knew herself.

And she was whole once more.

"Rogue," a voice inside her head said. "I'm you alright."

"Carol!" Rogue cried, inside and out. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." She was on her hands and knees on the floor. Her hands. Her knees.

Her, Rogue.

"Where have you been?" she asked inside her head. "Carol, what happened?" She didn't have time to wait for an answer, because Magnus was up and moving again. Rogue could barely see through the glow hovering around her, but she could see could see well enough. In a move she never planned to make, Rogue launched out at him, and swung. Instead of denting her hand on his armor, Magneto flew back across the room, sprawled out on his back. In astonishment, she gazed down at her hands.

"What…?" she asked.

"That," Carol replied, "was why I hid myself from you. Rogue, you did what I asked you too. But because you took my life, all I had, I could have become a part of you. I should have. I didn't want to though," she cried in Rogue's head. "I didn't want to burden you with my psyche, my powers, my life. So I resisted. But Magneto took care of that for me." Rogue wasn't focused on that though.

"Your power?" she asked, continuing to stare at her hands.

"My powers, Rogue," she replied, a not of humor in her 'voice'. "Your power now."

"What am I supposed to do with," she began to ask.

"FIGHT!" Carol screamed, jerking Rogue back into the reality around her. She caught Mystique's leg, mid kick, and hurled the woman to the ground.

"They're spectral images, Rogue," the woman explained. "Psyche's, just like you and me. They're the last people you touched. They're strong here. If they beat you, your body becomes there's."

"How do I beat them!" she cried, tossing Magneto like a rag doll. He immediately got back up, and came at her.

"You can't," Carol explained. "You have to escape. Back the way you came. Up."
"Up?" Rogue questioned.

"Yes up," Carol explained. "Just relax kiddo, let me handle this one. Relax…" Rogue did as she was told, to the best of her abilities, that is, when evil people were coming to kill her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath…

…and felt the pressure beneath her feet disappear. She cracked her eyes open a bit, and screamed!

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She was flying, like a bird! It was amazing, exhilarating, and terrifying at the same time. She felt stronger this time, like she could take on the world.

Invincible.

But that feeling quickly abated as she rose through the vortex. A dull pain coursed through her entire body. Still, she rose. Then the pain grew sharp. Her head was ringing. It felt as if someone was sitting on her chest, she couldn't breathe.

"Hang on, kiddo," Carol said from within. "Just a little higher."

"Like a track runner, she saw her prize ahead of her, her goal, and she stretched her hand out for it. Her hand entered the air beyond the cyclone. The pain increased tenfold.

She closed her eyes and flung herself forward…

…it was over.

It was over…

AN: Two chapters to go!