DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X-men and I'm not making any money from this.
"What happened?"
Jean coughed. "Where have you been? You smell like a chimney."
"Just hanging out with some friends. Is she okay?"
"I don't know," Jean said, peering into the Medical Bay. Rogue lay on a bed, looking rather thin and frail in the white hospital gown. The Professor was with her, but she was closed mouth and staring at the ceiling. "She just lost it. She started screaming, it was like her whole personality changed. She kept asking for help. Then she passed out. She woke up before we got here, acting like nothing had happened. I tried to give her a physical, but, you know."
Scott couldn't help but grin. "I can just imagine how that was."
"Oh I bet you can. Two redheads, every man's fantasy." Damn that conscious. Where was it when she needed it? Off making googly eyes at a seventeen year old, that's where.
"Not bad, considering the only color I see is red. A man tends to like it."
"I have work to do," Jean said, feeling awkward. She remembered the kiss. He was standing too close. "And you need a shower." Like that didn't conjure up some rather interesting images. Scott blushed.
"Yeah," he said, "You could use one to." She stared at him. "I mean," he said hurriedly, "not with me! You smell like formaldehyde. Not that you smell bad. Or good. I have to go," he stammered and stumbled off down the hall.
"You should stop playing with that boy, Jean," Warren said, coming up behind her and dipping her low in his arms. "You're going to scare him."
Jean let out a squeal, "Let me up, Worthington."
"For a kiss," he said, scrunching up his face and pursing his lips comically.
"Kiss this," Jean said, and projected an image of Hank's furry face in his head.
"Mercy, mercy," he joked, pulling her upright. "You do me an injustice!"
"Get real. So how was dinner last night? You didn't come home till late."
"Sorry, Mom, but a gentleman never kisses and tells." They started to walk towards the kitchen. "How's the kid?"
"She won't talk to anyone. I really don't know why she's here."
"She's a mutant. Like all of us. She has nowhere else to go."
"Why do you stay here?" Jean asked. "I mean, you have money, houses in Europe. What keeps you here, with the X-men?"
He grinned wickedly at her, "Why, Ms. Grey, if you have to ask that, you are not as smart as I thought," he said, using his body to press her against the door. He sniffed the air by her neck. "It's Hank's wonderful cooking!"
She laughed and pushed him off, entering the kitchen. It was smoky and smelled like burnt hair. Hank sat on a stool in front of the stove, stirring a pot with his foot and reading a book. He wore a large white apron, splattered with sauce and was humming what sounded suspiciously like the Star Trek theme.
"Ah!" He jumped up from the stool, catching the spoon in his hand. He tried to hide the book behind his back.
"Goodness, Hank, did you get enough fur in the spaghetti sauce?" Warren said, swiping the air in front of him. Hank sniffed primly.
"I did no such thing!"
"What's burning?" Jean asked.
"Um, I had a little incident with the chicken. I took care of it," he rushed to explain. "Nothing to worry about." He turned serious, "How's our patient?"
Jean shook her head. "She won't say anything. The Professor's been with her for the last hour, but I don't know what's going on."
"Ah, so sad in someone so young," Hank said. "Well, scat children, dinner won't be ready for at least another hour."
"We'll let you get back to Sunset Passions, Hank," Warren said, with a cocky grin.
"It's Sunrise-oh nevermind."
Nathaniel Essex was a remotely simple man. He was a mutant, but above all he was a scientist. He had carefully studied the advances made during World War II, especially the genetic advances that the government did not want to leak to the common world. And Sinister was enthralled by genetics, and the simple little X-factor that made him a mutant.
And what he could do by combining the right genes from the right people.
Sinister wanted to get his hands on a sample of her DNA more than anything else in his fanatical studies. He knew that they held the answer to creating a super-mutant, something even superior to the Homo sapien superiors.
Mutant. He scoffed at the stupid flatscan's words to describe the evolution that was taking place all over the world. It wasn't a mutation, per se, although it was a change in the genetic structure of man. It was more of a progression, a change for the better. Evolution. Humans were becoming stronger and smarter. Sinister was driven to find out what had caused this great anomaly in the world that would eventually lead to the downfall of mankind as the petty, insignificant flatscans knew it.
And Sinister was creating the virus that would speed the evolution of regular humans until every one was a mutant. He just needed the right genes to finish it.
His Legacy.
There was a knock at the door and it opened. The man that entered was a perfect genetic specimen, after a few alterations by Sinister. He felt great pride in watching his child. He knew there would come a day that the invention would turn on the creator. But as long as he had something LeBeau wanted….
"I can get in de mansion. But you have to promise-"
"I assure you, LeBeau, I will not go back on my word."
Scott's words came unbidden back to Remy. Trust a thief? Well, trust a psycopathic, crazed scientist? He couldn't keep a grin from twisting his features. If Scott only knew…
"Den I shall have her for you."
"Excellent. I shall prepare the lab."
"You won't hurt her, will you?" Remy asked.
"No, my dear boy. I wouldn't dream of it."
But there was no guaranteeing she wouldn't hurt anybody else.
They finally left her alone. Her head felt as if it were being pricked by a thousand tiny little needles. She lay in the dark, listening to the voices in her head. They were talking to her. The enemy. The invader. She rolled over, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to shut them out.
The Professor had tried to breech her mental defenses for three hours, to no avail. Rogue hadn't been fighting him, but she had. He had finally called it a night when she attacked him. He had given Rogue a sleeping pill, but it lay beneath her pillow. Rogue had wanted to take it, but she wouldn't let her. She was gaining control, and Rogue was helpless to fight her. Her mind was strong, stronger than Rogue's. It was as if she were supposed to win, to take control of Rogue's body for her own purposes.
Or Mystique's?
"Momma wouldn't do that to me," Rogue whispered to herself, harshly.
She laughed.
She is the voice in Rogue's head. Next chapter we learn just who she is!
Jean1: I'm glad you're enjoying! It's been fun writing the awkwardness, but I can't wait to see how our Cajun charmer and southern belle act around each other. And it will be a good long while before Wolverine shows up...but I can't make any promises on any on else!
Alright, stick with me, this is my first long fanfiction, so I'm still working out a few bugs plot wise. But soon we'll have action, romance, and a little bit of good old fashioned isanity!
