Just to clear up in case anybody didn't realize:

1) Timeline of this story takes place after Cajun Spice, after Uprising, and right before Ascensions I and II.

2) Mystique is not the shapeshifter bc she's already been captured by Apocalypse.

3) The red eyes belong to Morph's master, the mutant scientist.

4) Just as a tidbit, Rogue is 18 (by now in Evolution it's been a year since Scott and Jean graduated so Rogue must have already graduated) and Gambit is around 21, 22.

5) The scientist wants Rogue not Theodore Farrat.

AND I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your reviews. It's not the quantity but the words within them and it's absolutely gratifying to know my writing provides you guys with...all that you said in your reviews! Thanks very much to no end! --Raven

Ishandahalf: hope you didn't die after waiting for this. Read your last chapter by the way (my comp won't let me submit a review for some reason) and it was really sweet, nicely open-ended. I'm so sad that it's over though! Blackrougefille: Not Mystique. At this point in Evolution she's already been turned into a statue and sucked up by Apocalypse. Remember this is right before the Ascension episodes and everything happens accordingly. X2P3: the red eyes belong to Morph's master, the scientist--I'm sure you can guess who that must be. As for Mystique, this "episode" takes place right before Ascension I and II so she's already captured by Apocalypse. Sweety8587: Imagine if you found all your friends strapped to gurneys. What a freaky thought. Flame31: God forbid I develop something to ruin this fic. I'd hate myself. Flowerperson: You wanna know that bad? Sorry that this was so delayed! Tsugath: I thought the title was ironic! Evil mutant info above. Star-of-Chaos: Why didn't you start reading this sooner, you silly fool--no, I'm kidding. Thanks, thanks! Freak87: Funny!--when I wrote in "decelerated" I thought about what my physics teacher said too! Technically you're still accelerating even if you slow down, just that the acceleration is in the negative (opposite direction) but there isa word in the dictionary that says deceleration when people aren't engaged in physics jargon. RogueCajunOzsgrl: The newbies just never get enough screentime. I'm a softie for the underdogs. I hope this chapter met your expectations! Totallyobsessed47: too lazy to sign in? Haha...thanks though. Sickmindedsucker: Trust me, the Rogue/Gambitness just mounts to its most tantalizing dramatic culmination right here in this chapter. Whew, prepare yourself. I always do enjoy kudos. Thanks! Just me: Eh, sometimes you have to be mean with cliffhangers to grip readers, yeah? Haha, the newbies just never get enough kudos for their abilities! And with this chapter, man, the...well, you'll see soon enough. Kendokao: You bet that'd be freaky. What would you do in that situation, y'know? Essays...god, they take me hours, literally. But that shouldn't be surprising considering how long it takes me to write one of these chapters. At least this is fun, though. Allie: You really have to figure out what's up with those parental controls, girl! I hope you got this one ok. I love how you love me, by the way. :-) CatStar14: well, you do look familiar... The best writer? Thank you so much--I wish there was a different way to say thanks bc the word is so damn hackneyed by now. Glad you're luvin' it. I am in love with Gambit, too. !! We're such losers. Haha. But hey, nobody has to know except us. Epona04: I enjoy torture. Wrenching the readers in the gut is quite satisfying, especially when my stories do it for me--haha, that was so creepily morbid. I'll stop. Evil genius, I think I like that title. Enchanted light: ever constant, you! Houser's girl: Glad you're finally able to review. I always like to know who I'm pleasing!

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Oh, and sorry that this took so long. It's a long-ass chapter that I kept on re-editing...but I'm sure you guys don't mind prim and polished chapters. Yeah?

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Remy's muscles tensed. His gaze flicked from Rogue to the gun to Farrat, back to the gun.

"Lower your weapon, boy," Farrat said. "We can settle this the civilized way."

Remy narrowed his eyes, "You first."

"I think not."

Neither man moved.

Farrat sighed as if the whole situation bored him. "It seems we've reached an impasse."

"Y'can't kill her anyway," Remy suddenly remembered. "Y'takin' her t'somebody who obv'ously wants her alive."

Farrat remained placid, "Having her dead is no catastrophic loss, I can assure you."

Rogue moved to stand but was jerked back by the handcuffs. "Remy, don't," she said, staring at him with wide eyes. They were on Farrat's plane; there was still the pilot and Deaver to consider. Against such odds, they had little chance of gaining the upper hand. Remy could get hurt--or worse. She cringed at the thought of anything happening to him.

"Chere, he's pointin' a gun at y'," Remy stated, as though that fact alone justified everything.

Rogue did not miss the look of deep concern in his eyes. "Ah know, but we're not--"

"That punk pilot is completely out of line..." Deaver stopped midway out the cockpit door, facial features bemused at the unexpected scene.

Many things happened too quickly for any mind to truly register: Remy's gun snapped up at Deaver; Farrat aimed his pistol at Remy; Rogue stiffened in alarm--and several gunshots rang out.

Rogue screamed as she watched Remy fall to the floor. A dozen emotions ran through her head, stifling her breath. Suddenly her hair was fluttering about her face and she realized one of the windows had shattered. The pressure leaked out of the jet in the form of small gusts. Before she could think to cry, Remy was on his feet and tackling Farrat before he could fire another shot. Rogue struggled to process what was happening--Farrat had missed. He broke the window. Remy was fine.

Farrat was no longer a youth of potent strength. Though he was not completely diminished in muscularity, he was little match against a burly thief. The tackle knocked his head against the wall, scrambled his cerebral fluids. He struggled out of the initial daze, groping the floor around him as Gambit leapt out of the way of Deaver's plasma rays.

Remy bounded over the seats and landed beside the still-unconscious Perry. How hard'd I hit 'im? he mused.

"Watch out, you fool!" Farrat shouted. "You'll shoot Annabel!"

But it was not Annabel that suffered from Deaver's unruly aim. With a snap and ring of impacted metal, the latch of the emergency escape broke loose. The door lurched unsteadily and exposed a tiny margin of free space. Air rushed out of the jet more readily through the new opening as the door continued to shudder with instability.

The intercom cackled and the pilot shouted, "What the hell's going on back there?"

Farrat finally located his pistol by Rogue's seat. He crawled towards it, hands reaching out but never achieving contact.

Rogue kicked out her leg in a wide swoop, booted heel colliding with his face. She watched with grim satisfaction as the aged man tumbled backwards and buckled Deaver's knees. Both fell disoriented to the floor as the plane began to wobble unsteadily.

"We're gonna be in some real trouble very soon!" the intercom wheezed. The pilot was beginning to sound panicked by his strained yells.

Remy did not notice the intercom or much of the environment, focused on reaching Rogue. He struggled along the tottering plane, falling onto his knees before her. "Jus' keep havin' t'rescue y'chere," he smirked.

"Haven't done it yet," she retorted, struggling against the handcuffs.

Remy tapped his finger to the chain, exciting a few of the molecules so acutely the matter disintegrated. "Best I can do," he said. "You'll jus' have some chunky bracelets t'wear fo'a while--" His words ceased their flow as a heavy form tackled him from behind. He fell against the wall, painfully knocking his head. Quickly, he recovered, ducking away from a punch that landed against the wall instead.

Deaver howled angrily and lunged at Remy. Both men were soon engaged in a fierce wrestle for the upper hand.

Rogue moved to apprehend Deaver, but felt someone grab her waist from behind. She whirled around with a punch but the formally unconscious Perry ducked. He snatched her wrist and twisted it behind her back. By reflex Rogue swung her other arm to smack him across the face. Her eyes darted to Farrat, who was slowly making his way towards the stirring Annabel. She lost her footing in distraction, stumbling awkwardly as Perry knocked her violently to the floor.

She landed on her elbow, sour sensations of discomfort shooting through her bones. Perry leapt on top of her, reaching for her arms to pin behind her back. She bucked furiously and made his task difficult.

Farrat stood at Annabel's stretcher-side, staring in heavy scrutiny. His eyes were not deceiving him. Her lips twisted under his cold gaze, her eyelids trembling, her eyebrows twitching. Slowly her arms remembered movement and her feet sampled the bend of toe joints. She was fighting with all her strength for consciousness while the effects of the sedative wore off. She knew she had never been this close to awakening and would not allow the chance to pass her by.

No, Farrat thought in alarm. She cannot wake up. It will only complicate things. He looked around in confusion before realizing what he had to do. Rummaging around Annabel's effects he found the bottle of sedative. His fingers searched furiously through the medical bag until they grasped a syringe and rubber cord. It was difficult to coordinate the tools, gusts of leaking air drying his eyes while an unstable plane teetered precariously. He feared harming his niece but it was a risk he was willing to take.

Annabel whimpered and groaned, her face contorting. She shifted under the tightly wrapped sheets.

Farrat worked quickly; he freed one of her arms and tied the rubber cord above her elbow to lessen the blood flow. He pulled the plastic cap off the needle and pumped it one eighth the length full of sedative.

Remy saw what Farrat was doing but Deaver had somehow managed to pin him to the floor. "Rogue!" he shouted urgently.

She too realized the threat to Annabel and fought harder against her opponent. Every time she squirmed out of the way he managed to grab her again and they would re-engage in a heated wrestle. A glint under the seat suddenly caught Rogue's eye: Farrat's pistol. "Ya know," she grunted, hand shooting out and grasping the handle. She shoved the barrel of the gun in Perry's face. "Not cool for a guy to hit a gal."

He backed away from her carefully. "You're not just any girl," he glared challengingly. "And you don't have the guts to kill anybody."

Rogue narrowed her eyes, "You're right," and lowered her arm. She pulled the trigger, shooting a well-aimed bullet into his left quadricep.

Perry shrieked in pain, clutching his leg as blood spurted from the wound. He collapsed to the floor in a melody of curses and anguished growls.

Rogue scrambled unsteadily to her feet, aiming the pistol at Farrat.

The intercom cackled again, emitting static from distrubed wires and instruments before a coherent voice could be discerned. "That's it! I'm turning this tube around. We're not making it overseas in a damaged jet! And somebody shut that goddamn door!"

Deaver suddenly realized the danger they were all in--the result of his scanty judgment. In his moment of worried diversion, Remy landed an effective punch in his face. Pain shot through his skull, vibrating from his jaw. He stumbled backwards and decided the intruder was not top priority. Steadying himself on the seats, he reached the emergency escape door and saw the latch was at its breaking point. He tried pulling it shut but only managed to budge it an inch. The escaping air provided too much resistant pressure. Deaver felt the door rattling uncontrollably in his grip, felt the violent tremors travel up his arms. In the flash of an instant, the moment he realized his fate, the door broke free of its hinges and pulled him along. The next moment, Deaver was gone, leaving behind a gaping hole.

The jet lurched violently and the intercom cackled once again with the pilot's voice. No one heard what was said as the howling escape of air assaulted their ears.
"Leave her alone, Farrat!" Remy yelled over the roar.

Rogue gripped the pistol, stuggling to keep it aimed while clutching onto a seat for balance. Papers and objects flew about in frenzy, eventually sucked out of the plane through the gaping emergency exit. Her hair whipped about her face, ruthlessly lashing her skin while Remy's trench coat billowed around her.

Farrat glared at them furiously. One hand clutched Annabel's arm while the other held the needle poised above her delicate skin. He could not achieve a clean puncture as the jet continued its haphazard trembling. "You think you know!" he shouted angrily. "She will only keep hurting people!"

"She does it anyway!" Rogue shot back, provoked by his ignorance. "You're only keeping her in a coma 'cause ya want all her father's money! You're not doing anyone any favors--you're just looking after yourself!"

Farrat's glacial eyes flashed with feverish indignation, his lips contorting into a hateful sneer. "You mutants are all just a burden to this world," he snarled. "Like Patricia. She killed our father! Killed him because he hurt our mother--Annabel is just like her! She'll only keep hurting people, find new ways to ruin lives!" The hand clutching the needle shook uncontrollably, "I only want peace and this is the only way."

"You're wrong," Remy said, red eyes smouldering. "It's just the easiest."

Farrat's grip tightened on Annabel's arm. He positioned the needle over her flesh and she squirmed as if sensing the danger.

"Put that down or Ah'll blow your friggin' hand off!" Rogue shouted.

Farrat did not obey. Rogue bristled, receiving the urge to shoot holes into those cold pits of eyes. Her finger tightened over the trigger. She had already shot a man once, and with barely a thought, but the present conditions provided greater risk for her missing. What if she dealt him a fatal wound?

The plane jerked unsteadily and she nearly lost her balance.

"Chere!" Remy suddenly shouted.

Something swept under her feet. Already in precarious balance, she easily toppled over. The pistol flew from her hand and spiraled down the aisle as Perry curled his fingers around her throat.

"Bitch," he spat. "Teach you to shoot people in the--ugh!"

Rogue kneed him in the crotch. In his already marred condition, he couldn't easily defend against her blows. She kicked him in the gunshot area, dourly satisfied as his wail of affliction. Swatting away his final attempts to seize her, she shoved him off with more force than necessary. He knocked his head against the metal of a seat and fell still. As Rogue staggered to her feet, the cocking of a gun sounded behind her. She spun around, green eyes caught by Farrat's icy blue ones.

"You should have let things be," he said, and pulled the trigger.

Rogue shut her eyes--she waited for the bullet, waited for the searing pain to rip through her flesh and kill her. Time seemed to lag and she grew wholly confused as a shadow dashed before her, a strained voice crying her name. Gunshots sliced the air, penetrated the roaring wind--one, two, three. She felt Remy's strong arms wrap around her and they both collapsed. In the melee of rushing air and flying objects, Rogue struggled to understand what was happening. Remy lay on top of her, his warm breath caressing her neck, their closeness spawning hopes and dreams. He trembled for a moment as he continued to clutch her.

"Remy? What's..." A warm feeling spread slowly across her chest, but she soon realized it did not come from within herself; it came from him. Fear shot through her nerves and she tried to sit up, easing him off and gently onto the floor. "Oh my God," she gasped. "Oh God, Remy..."

Three red splotches stained his uniform, thick and glistening. They grew in size as the seconds passed, spreading into the irregular web of some surreal crimson painting. Rogue was almost sure she was dreaming. The gun had been aimed at her, the bullet was supposed to hit her--all logic escaped her reasoning. After all they had been through, after all that had happened--this was the way it would end? This was how he would leave her life? No, it couldn't be real. She looked down at her sweater, at the bloodstains perverting the cloth--his blood.

Remy was shot. Remy was dying.

Rogue shook her head furiously, pressing her hands against the wounds to slow the bleeding.

"Don' bother," he rasped behind half-lidded eyes. The red glow of his irises was not as bright as she remembered. "S'gon' be okay." He slowly raised a hand, fingers barely brushing against her cheek. "Rogue--"

"Don't," she warned him in a harsh whisper. "Ah'm not gonna hear it." How dare he voice those parting words, strengthen the gut-wrenching fear that was still only just a possibility. "You're not dy..." She could almost laugh at her weakness; she couldn't even say the word. "You're gonna be fine, Remy. You're gonna be fine."

His gaze bore into hers as he struggled to remain awake. He had been shot before, a common risk for a thief, but never in such delicate places. He could almost feel the gaping holes in his chest and side, the torn fibers of his flesh and organs. The pain was a blinding sensation, a sharp and stinging threat drawing him towards oblivion. But Rogue's scintillating eyes were his beacon to reality. He focused on the green depths as he grabbed her hand. Her flesh simmered against his, hot and burning; he never ceased to marvel at every touch they shared. Dieu, she was beautiful. He wondered if the light he saw was real or just his own imagining. Was she always so pretty, so perfect, so angelic? How ironically paradoxical that le diable blanc would pass in the arms of la ange noir...

"No--stop, Remy...Don't close ya eyes--look at meh!"

He loved her voice, her comforting southern drawl... He wondered what it would be like to hear her sing... She continued calling out to him but was sounding farther and farther away. He tried to see her but couldn't, only felt her hand clutched in his, her other cradling his head. Maybe this wasn't such a bad way to go. Despite the horrible pain, despite the frightening darkness, he was at peace. He felt her amorous warmth, breathed her fragrant redolence...Just knowing such a feeling was enough.

Rogue couldn't stop crying as she watched his eyes close. She buried her face in his shoulder, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Nothing ever hurt so much--not Scott's rejection, not Mystique's betrayals or the curse of her mutation--nothing. It made her want to stop feeling. How was life worth living, how was hope worth having, if it would only lead to this repulsive hurt?

"Ah don't know what to do," she whispered against his neck. "Ah can't do this anymore..." He didn't have to sacrifice himself, the fool. The bullets were meant for her--how dare he cheat her out of death. How dare he care so much. How dare he...

"It didn't have to be this way."

Rogue wiped her eyes and turned at Farrat's words. He still held the pistol aimed at her head. She stared at him mournfully, saw the look of regret on his face. Her anger and hate cooled to a numb lassitude.

"I've never killed anyone," Farrat confessed. "Didn't seem significant if my men did it, didn't feel so...how could Patricia...over and over again...?" He shook his head, eyes hardening once again. "But you brought this upon yourselves. You should not have interfered." His finger tightened over the trigger.

Rogue closed her eyes. Let him shoot her. She didn't care anymore.

Suddenly the jet gave a powerful lurch, one that confirmed the genuine danger of their situation. The craft tilted perilously, throwing Farrat aside. Rogue grabbed onto a seat, her other arm clutching Remy. She clenched her eyes shut as her hair whipped her face, shrouding her in makeshift darkness.

"I can't keep us up!" the pilot shrieked through the intercom. "We're not going to make it!"

Maybe life would be fair in that sense. In a few moments she would no longer feel.

It's going to be okay, Rogue. I promise.

Her head snapped up, eyes searching wildly for the source of the voice. Her gaze landed on Annabel and she gasped in shock.

The girl weakly hoisted herself up by her frail elbows. She turned a dark head of wind-whipped curls to look at Rogue, blue eyes soft with sorrow.

"No!" Farrat yelled frantically. He scurried towards his niece, snatching the syringe from where it had fallen. "You must stay asleep!" He dove towards her with the needle directed, knowing very well the extent of her mutant powers.

Something snapped in Rogue's head. Annabel was weak; she needed help. Rogue was on her feet the next second, stumbling through the rocking jet. If nothing else, she was going to stop Farrat from hurting that poor girl, from stealing what little life she might have. She saw the pistol snap in her direction but didn't care.

Annabel shrieked meekly and shut her eyes in hasty concentration. Farrat cried out as his arm angled away from Rogue. His bullets left a short trail along the cockpit door before flying out of his grasp altogether. The next moment Rogue tackled him to the floor and wrenched the needle out of his hand. She grabbed his shirt collar with bloody fingers, slammed him to the aisle with angry strength. "This is all your fault!" she screamed, feeling herself lose control. "You selfish bastard! I ought to kill you! Ya murdered the only person Ah ever..." She sobbed, releasing the dazed man and falling back. Tears blurred her vision and it was hard to breathe. She felt a cool hand touch her face from behind.

I'm going to end this now. It's gone on for too long. But I need you to know...

Rogue closed her eyes, feeling another presence entering her mind. She was too weak to resist it, too tired to care. When she opened her eyes she was no longer in the quaking plane but a soft, hazy space. And she was not alone.

"My absorbing you was kind of a favor, huh?" Annabel asked her with a kind smile.

Rogue stared at the girl before her. She blinked, "Wha--are we in my head? Are ya pokin' around my memories?"

"I couldn't help it," Annabel shrugged. She smiled softly as though she was proud. "I wanted to know how you felt when you first touched Remy."

Rogue felt a fresh wave of grief at the reminder. The space around them rippled, became darker to mirror her emotions.

"It's not too late to save him," Annabel told her. "He's not dead...yet"

Rogue stared at her, scarcely brave enough to hope.

Annabel frowned sadly, "I don't want him to die. I don't want you to hurt. I've never had real friends...and that's what you guys feel like to me, friends. I didn't understand before, didn't realize how much he...how much you..." She shook her head, ran a hand through her hair. She stepped forward and held Rogue by the shoulders, "Just promise me something, girl. Don't judge him by his mistakes. Don't throw away what you have because of the past."

Rogue stared at her in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Annabel shook her head, "Not yet." A tear trickled down her face but she smiled. "We're alike, Rogue. There's so much of us that's the same...and even if it doesn't feel like it, you are so lucky. You're so blessed..." She shuddered and released a breath, pulling Rogue into a sisterly hug. "But there was always something missing, right? You could never understand or control your powers. It's so simple, Rogue, and I don't know why you or your Professor couldn't see it sooner..."

Rogue hugged her back, feeling her sadness and regret, her sorrow at having never lived a life. She didn't understand her words but didn't immediately feel the need to.

"Not much time left," Annabel whispered. "They're all inside me still, you know. I keep them, every single one so I can live, but even then it's not much of a life..."

"Let us help you," Rogue said, pulling back to look at her.

"There's no way to help me."

Rogue shook her head stubbornly, "Ah always thought Ah'd never be able to touch without absorbin' someone--but look what's happened. There's always hope."

"Please, those words don't become you, Rogue," Annabel laughed dryly. "I can't keep going on like this. I have to let them all go...because as long as they're in me, they won't be where they belong."

Rogue had never been more confused. "What?"

Annabel didn't bother to explain. She gave Rogue's hands a comforting squeeze, "There's only one way to let them go. But before I do, I'm going to give you what's missing. You've been strong so far, but you don't have to do it alone anymore." Slowly, she began to fade, her presence leaving the mind space.

Rogue reached out for her, not understanding anything that had just transpired. Soon Annabel had completely disappeared and Rogue was lost. She called her name, searched for her in the haziness, but received no reply. Without warning the space around her warped, flashed in all hues of every known color. Rogue felt tingly all over, heard strange zapping noises as electric impulses in her mind worked in frenzy. As suddenly as it began, it ended, and she felt the lash of harsh air running along her body.

Remy's trench coat flapped haphazardly around her. She pulled it tighter around herself, feeling cold and jittery. Sitting up from the floor where she had fallen, she looked around in confusion. She felt strange all over though it wasn't a physical sensation; something was just evidently different. Her disorientation ended when she realized the plane was tilted at a dangerous angle, cutting through the sky with uncontrolled speed.

It'll crash into the water soon.

Rogue turned and saw Annabel slowly crawling towards the emergency exit. The rough wind battered her delicate nightgown, tugged at her opulent curls. The white cloth clung to her emaciated body as she grabbed the door frame.

"What are you doing?" Rogue called in alarm. "Annabel--"

You'll have to save them, Annabel cut her off. She continued to speak telephatically, as if her vocal cords were beyond use. In the end it'll be up to you.

"How," Rogue rasped. She was so confused--what was Annabel doing? What was she talking about? "Ah don't have any powers that'll save us!"

Yes, you do, Annabel smiled knowingly. You just never knew it. Now you just do your part while I do mine...and everything will turn out the way it's supposed to.

A cold dread gripped Rogue's insides as she realized what Annabel planned. She crawled forward slowly, "Annabel, Ah know it feels hopeless but ya can't just give up."

There's no other way. I was being selfish for so long. So angry, so resentful...but now I see. I understand that this way it's fair.

"It's not fair for you!" Rogue exclaimed, feeling her pain. Annabel was projecting her feelings as well as her thoughts. She wanted someone to know, to understand. Rogue could almost cry at her despair. "Please, let the X-Men find a way to help ya. The Professor, he--"

Will be home soon, Annabel said, turning her head as if just noticing something. They're fine. Father didn't do any real harm... I know you're eager to see them. Just make sure you survive this fix. I won't exactly know how the story ends. She smiled half-heartedly. Everyone will be freed, including your psyches, Rogue, but you know how to deal with them now. Tell Remy I'm going to miss him. She held both sides of the door frame and leaned out. The wind thrashed her hair as though enviously trying to rip the beauteous curls away. Just remember...

"Annabel, don't!" Rogue cried in final desperation.

...they're not real, Rogue. They never were. Annabel gave her one last, sad smile. Then she let go.

The scream escaped Rogue's mouth, louder than the roaring wind or shrieking protests of the plummeting jet. She shut her eyes tight, frightened out of her mind, scared for the unknown. The moment the free fall began, it was the end. She felt so light, so weightless in a fateful plummet. The water came closer and closer until she finally met its surface and then--Rogue gasped, fingernails digging into her chest. She struggled for breath and tried to sense Annabel again, but nothing was there, no one to channel those feelings. She was gone.

Rogue wiped away her empathetic tears, forcing herself to stand. She looked around at the havoc, the unconscious forms of three men she had to save, two of which she would preferred to have jumped in Annabel's place. She knew what to do but there wasn't much time. Falling beside Remy, she wrapped her arms around him and tugged him into one of the seats. She quickly strapped him in, stomach lurching at the sight of so much blood. She spared a few seconds to see if Annabel had been right. The shallow rise and fall of his chest shot hope through her veins, gave her much needed strength. She kissed him shakily on the forehead and prayed they would make it through this.

Moving with the dive of the plane, Rogue nearly flew against the cockpit door. She wrenched it open and stumbled inside. She gasped.

"Son of...a bitch," the pilot spat with as much venom he could muster. His right hand gripped a bullet hole bleeding rivers onto the front of his uniform; his right weakly steered the plane. He looked at Rogue with sardonic laughter in his woozy eyes, "Had a bad feeling...'bout this...trip to start with..."

Rogue acted without much thought. She grabbed the sides of the pilot's face, absorbed him--thoughts, memories, aviation training--marveled at how easily she summoned her powers, amazed by the previously coveted control that now came so easily and without endeavor. She had no time to wonder how any of it was possible, hoisting the pilot out of the seat and grabbing the jet controls. Mechanically flipping switches and altering gears, she fully utilized the pilot's knowledge.

But the aircraft was too damaged and volatile. Rogue felt its instability and began to panic. What else could she do?

They're not real, Rogue. They never were.

Rogue was unsure of what Annabel meant, couldn't rationalize through the message, but something was reeling in her head. She hadn't noticed the psyches return in all the panicked chaos. They swirled around the recesses of her mind, some whispering in hushed fear, others yelling with tight agitation. She commanded them to shut up but they didn't listen, so she forced them, willed them to be silent or be useful. And slowly, ever so subtly, something changed. The psyches became...altered. Rogue couldn't understand what was happening, but felt a new power flow within her, realized another newly possessed control.

The jet's nose tilted up slightly, its velocity lessened. Beads of perspiration exuded from Rogue's forehead in her deep concentration. Her fingers gripped the trembling controls, quivering from the strain. Focus, she told herself. She was boggled and confused, but couldn't remember another time of having such resolute domination. Her body spoke to her, her mind acquiescing to every request. All she had to do was...Focus.

Telekinetic forces obeyed her summons, the metal jet slowing in its fatal plummet. The effort was exhausting. Rogue sifted through her psyches frantically, unsure of what she was doing. Once again her body and mind were cooperative; with little effort she felt the surge of magnetism replace the diminishing telekinesis. The rocking jet steadied in the air, soothed by obstinate magnetic fields.

Rogue breathed jaggedly, heart pounding loudly in her ears. Exhiliration? Fear? They were close to land; she could see the Statue of Liberty brandishing its torch. The pilot had done his job well, but it was now up to Rogue to finish it. She kept her hands on the controls, her mind on the foreign powers under her command. The jet whined and buckled but she would not let it break. Her stubbornness fueled her determination, and all the while Lady Liberty drew ever nearer.