As usual much apologising and grovelling at the feet of my readers (if you haven't all left in disgust that is). There are about 100 excuses but they all suck and really I just had the worst case of writers block. Blockage partially removed now and we have great hopes for the future.

Also Insinkerators are the greatest invention in the world. I'm not sure what they're called in other countries but in Australia they live in the sink and eat everything you put into them, including siblings and stray appendages.

********************

Considering everything that could have gone wrong and taking into account her generally shitty luck it was a miracle that they managed not only to escape the fort and the guards but also steal a ship and hoodwink a large group of men without once resorting to violence.

Well, not actual hitting at least.

For so long Rogue had been used to the leaden weight of the necessity of using her powers in any sort of conflict. That cold clench of dread whenever she approached an enemy, knowing what she must do and fearing it.

This time she had been rolling her eyes every time Jack opened his mouth. When Will had put his foot through a crab trap she thought she was gonna drown from laughing so hard. She had had to stifle more laughter at Will's earnest pirate talk. Jack's look had been as much annoyance as it was outrage and Rogue thought he must be beginning to regret agreeing to this venture. She hadn't even thought about using her abilities and the unconscious weight this removed made her feelings of excitement and happiness so much greater.

She was standing on the warm deck of a large sailing ship several hundred years in the past but the sun was shining and she was starting an adventure with two attractive men

However there was one serious problem with her current situation that was rapidly making itself known.

She was dying.

Or at least that's what it felt like. She wasn't melodramatic whatever Kitty said. And anyway that was really the pot calling the kettle black because that girl was the biggest drama queen. Where did she get off calling other people melodramatic? God the fuss she'd made when Rogue had accidentally on purpose stuffed all her pink clothes down the Insinkerator. Industrial foghorns made less noise than she had. Kitty just hadn't seen the purpose of her action. It was meant to be an ironic statement against consumerism and mainstream teen culture. Also the colour just bugged her.

But that really wasn't the point now because she was dying slowly and painfully.

The huge stomach churning drops and the lurching roll of the ship had quickly drained the colour from her face and the strength from her legs. Staggering she clutched at the rail, hands gripping the polished wood with white knuckled force.

Have ye not been on a ship before missy? Jack asked, striding past her to pull on the rope of the large main mast.

Rogue glared at him but another grinding roll made her sway and clutch her head. It was as if her head was filling with greasy bubbles and they were bunching behind her eyes making it difficult to see. The sound of the waves and the creaks and groans of the ship were deafening, each noise piercing through her ears like needles, driving into her brain.

It felt like being majorly hungover, the spinning and lurching sensation right before you...

She lunged forward and emptied the contents of her stomach over the side.

Jack looked at where she was draped over the rail and grinned. The hardened criminal had just had the wind knocked from her sails. Rogue could see his thoughts plainly even though she was upside down and 10 feet away.

Those barely repressed homicidal thoughts rose gleefully to the front of her mind and she wished for the first time in ages that she was Jean so she could make his head explode with a thought. Or at least toss him over the side. He definitely wasn't attractive and she didn't know why she'd ever thought he was.

He sauntered up to her, ignoring her ferocious glare and hunched down so his face was level with hers, albeit the right way up.

You know the best cure for the Curse?

Rogue started for a moment before realising he meant her seasickness. If it had been anything else she thought she might have tried to bite his nose off, upside down or not.

she asked thickly, another dip making her stomach churn.

A seat in the stern. That way you don't splatter the sides when you bail out! he finished grinning away like mad.

He was dead.

She was going to rip his face off. Punch his nose so far into his head he'd get snot on his spine. Various other hideous and painful threats rolled through her mind. Unfortunately her stomach rolled too, which left her too sick to even try to carry any of them out.

Jack stayed crouched beside her, waiting for her reply, not realising how lucky he was.

M'mm gonna..k'll you! she growled, the threat spoiled somewhat by her green skin and heavy swallowing.

Jack leant away, chuckling. Rogue didn't know what made her do it. It could have been anger or fear or desperation. Much later she could admit that her attraction to him may have played some part in her actions. Or it could have been the blinding, searing, homicidal rage. But for whatever reason she reached out and brushed her arm against his, the bare skin of their wrists connecting for the briefest moment. Jack didn't notice the contact. He staggered briefly, the small drain weakening his balance but he straightened and continued as before. Rogue however was much more effected by the quick transfer.

Suddenly the sights and sounds became tolerable, her body using the knowledge it acquired from Jack to adjust to her surroundings. His reactions to the ship were so ingrained as to be almost instinctual which meant they were easily assimilated into her system. Which was handy sometimes, although it had given her some bad habits in the past, but a little fingernail biting was nothing against total non-seasickness. Jack's skills were now hers. She looked around the boat and could name every part and she knew that she could work every part of it too. Her body remembered, even if it had only just learnt it, as if she had been doing it all her life.

Alright.

Jack's mind barely made a shadow in her thoughts. There was no real presence like with some people she had absorbed in the past, but there was the sense of him all through her mind and particularly in her instincts and attitudes. She was pretty sure she could repress those before they made her do anything stupid, like feel sorry for him.

There were no actual coherent thoughts, but she did get something. Vague flashes and impressions and one idea, hard with purpose and almost slippery as if it was as shifty as its creator . When she tried to focus on it, it wriggled away so she left it to deal with later, right now she had other things on her mind.

She walked up the deck toward the two men, her body, using the new information, immediately adjusting to the motion of the ship. She sauntered up to them, enjoying the look of consternation on Jack's face as he saw her confidence and control. They were discussing something, but she ignored it.

I think both of you have neglected the most important thing she said, interrupting them.

Have we now? And what might that be pray tell? Jack inquired sarcastically.

I need some decent clothes right now.

********************

Rogue looked disgustedly down at herself. This place just...sucked.

Not only were the clothes ugly and horribly suited to her but the fabric was hideous. The calf length trousers she wore were made of scratchy white cotton . Her shirt was of similar material and not at all flattering.

While she was used to covering up she wasn't used to covering up. Even though she wore long sleeves and pants most of the time, the fabrics and cut of her clothes usually meant that they revealed as much as they hid. This outfit was all hiding.

Worse although they smelt clean they had the feeling of dirt and use. Plus she was positive there were lice in it. That crawling feel all over her skin had to be caused by something.

On one level she realised that she was being finicky and that in this time and place she should probably just accept the clothes and be grateful. On another she was horrified at her similarity to Kitty and Jean in her thoughts. But on the loudest and most prominent level she was fed up and still very much afraid and the clothes were the final straw.

If she had thought it would do any good she would have sat down in the middle of the deck and bawled her eyes out. But Rogue was not the kind of person to wallow in despair. Unless it had to do with her love life, she admitted to herself. At any rate she had better make the most of the situation. She just needed to calm down and refocus. That's all.

Taking a deep breath she leant back against the mast, the smooth wood supporting her suddenly tired body.
Strangely, it smelt of wood rather than salt and seaweed like most of the things on the ship. Including the clothes, she thought plucking irritably at her shirt. The one familiar note amongst all the strangeness.

The smell of it reminded her of the Mansion, the panelled halls and the warm quiet of the Professor's study. It was the woods outside where they did their training. It was also Mississippi, and the home she'd shared with Irene, the old floors of polished timber that creaked softly when you walked, smoothed by countless feet before hers.

Thinking of her homes, the old and the new was incredibly soothing. Rogue could hear the slap of the waves on the hull of the ship and the whistle of the wind. The huge canvas sails snapped and billowed above her and the ropes all over creaked as they held the shifting sail in place. A deep sense of calm descended,.

Idly she noticed the two men talking about something up near the steering wheel. Helm her brain supplied in that ghost of a voice that had to be Jack. Steering wheel she thought deliberately and felt a shadow of a face made at her, or at least the her that was in her mind, it was difficult to explain.

Christ he was annoying! He was still sticking around after such short contact with her powers. He was obviously more persistent then he appeared. Which she hadn't thought possible but here was the proof.

Rogue made a note of that, another thing about him she might be able to use later on. She also made a note never to touch him again unless she could help it. Being stuck with him in her head for any great length of time would definitely push her over the edge into the beckoning chasm of insanity.

In contrast to all she had learnt about Jack so far, she knew virtually nothing about Will. He was more open with his emotions but that really told her nothing about him except that he hated pirates and loved this Elizabeth girl. Apart from that he really showed nothing. Maybe he was just shallow, she thought.

If Will had shown anything thus far it was an alarming tendency to be exactly like Scott. And to make her laugh, albeit unintentionally which was something Scott rarely accomplished. Rogue also wondered if this chick they were going to rescue' was anything like Jean. The coincidence would be freaky. But then her life to date was practically the definition of abnormal so she probably shouldn't be surprised.

Suddenly the ship tilted as Jack spun the wheel and the boom swept Will over the side.
Men, she thought disgustedly, too comfortable to move. They obviously had issues they needed to work out.

Still he did look funny, clinging to the boom for dear life legs kicking frantically. She giggled flexing her toes against the warm deck, before stretching her arms above her head. Sighing she realised she should probably check out what was happening at the other end. If they killed each other she didn't think she could sail the ship alone.

She stood slowly and headed toward them, deftly avoiding piles of rope and other objects strewn about the deck.

Coming near she only caught the tail end of their conversation and it didn't make any sense.

Will asked, staring up at Sparrow.

Jack confirmed, a half smile curling his lips.

Rogue asked, walking up to where Jack stood, looking down at Will sprawled on the deck, Where's that?

Both men had been so intent on their conversation that they hadn't heard her approach, judging by the way they both quickly swung their heads around to look at her. Rogue put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow, wondering who would be the first to recover.

Jack grinned, his eyes lighting up mischievously. I'm right again, she thought.

Tortuga. Tortuga is a land of delights and freedom. Rum flows down every street and gold flies about like water. Every..

Will cut him off scorn returning to his voice once more. He'd also managed to scrape himself off the deck by this stage, which she silently congratulated him for.

Tortuga is a den of iniquity. A haven for every blackguard and scoundrel in these waters. Any excess is indulged and any vice is permitted. To any decent folk it is a blight on God's earth.

Sounds like my kinda place Rogue said after a moment of silence.

Will looked shocked and outraged at the same time. He was quite good at that actually. Jack tilted his head back and laughed loudly, his eyes sparkling.

Tis an island off the coast off Hispaniola. With a fine port and a deep harbour. The only pirate port in the Caribbean lass. We'll find all as we needs there. Just you wait and see.

How long will it take to get there? she asked, feeling eager to see this Tortuga. It wasn't every day she got to see a den of iniquity, living in Bayville with a powerful telepath and all.

We'll follow the Windward Passage and that should bring us to Tortuga quick as shakes.

So how come you all know where the pirate hideout is? Shouldn't it be a secret? I mean if the army or whatever knows where it is they could just come and arrest all of you. Rogue asked Jack but it was Will who answered.

Tortuga is allied with the French, he stated self-righteous scorn lacing his words, Only they could allow such goings on in their own territory.

Rogue didn't really see how this stopped the police from raiding he place but Will seemed to think it was an adequate explanation so she just nodded her head and feigned understanding.

Aye. Tortuga is full of Frenchies but none the worse for it. Jack answered. His eyes narrowed lasciviously as he added You'd not be so scornful lad if you'd ever laid up with a french girl. Their almost enough to make a man forget the sea, so they are.

Will blushed furiously and only partly from anger. Rogue was willing to bet he'd never laid up with any girl, french or otherwise.
She'd lost that particular attribute years ago but since becoming a mutant it was as if she had been permanently taken off the market. Re-virginised as it were. That was both incredibly funny and incredibly sad at the same time. The story of her life. So she couldn't really smirk at Will's blushes being in much the same position now.

But she did anyway.

Besides lad, Jack continued, Your fair Port Royale has had its share of infamy. Modyford is as black a name as pirate made and there's been worse besides him, all with the blessings of His Majesty to boot. We are not the people who should be passing out judgements boy he finished, pinning the younger man with a firm gaze.

Will met his stare boldly for a moment but then dropped his gaze, understanding the message it contained. Rogue was glad he did because she didn't have a clue what was going on. A little bit of telepathy would have been nice right about now, she thought wryly before speaking to break the tension.

Do you two need some more alone time? she asked with false sweetness I wouldn't want to get in the middle of another lover's quarrel.

Both men glared at her with identical expressions of outrage, and Rogue laughed, because they didn't see , despite it all, just how similar they were. Their expressions both faded to uncertainty at her amusement which only made her laugh the harder.

***********************

Rogue was in the prow, watching the sun set as they came upon Tortuga Island. She had been watching the sea and sky darken, reflecting each other in gold and white which gradually darkened to blue, bleeding through the shades toward the deep indigo of night.

The colours were so much brighter here, everything was so much sharper. She hadn't realised but the technology of her time had softened the world she lived in. The colours and the light and nature itself were muted. They were contained, controlled and somehow...less. Like animals in the zoo, no longer part of life but removed, caged and recreated as objects for human enjoyment.
Here there was a raw undercurrent to everything, the very real possibility of death at every turn which added a zest to life. Not entirely healthy zest in terms of longevity, Rogue admitted to herself but she felt more alive in every single moment here than she did anytime else at home except in battle.

She was standing there lost in thought when soft footsteps approached her from behind. Without turning she knew it would be Jack, as Will was taking a turn at the wheel. She sighed inwardly not wanting him and the reality of her situation to intrude on her contemplation of the evening.
Surprisingly Jack said nothing, he merely leant against the rail next to her, not even close enough to touch. He too stared out at the sea, watching the dark mass of the island coming ever closer.

They stayed like that, neither speaking for some time. Finally Jack, predictably, broke the silence.

There's somethin' about comin' into port at sunset, that touches the soul. he murmured without looking at her. His voice was quiet and his eyes as they gazed into the gathering dusk seemed to be contemplating something faraway. Rogue turned to him, hearing the wistfulness in his words.

It's the same at sunrise. It's that time, when the world's on the edge of night and day an' everything is...still. Even in the teeth of a storm. he added turning his head slightly toward her and allowing the barest hint of a smile to curl his lips.

It beautiful. Rogue whispered caught in the solemnity of the moment.

That it is. Jack answered. They both fell silent again, watching the sea and sky.

Rogue felt torn. Right now Jack seemed a different person to the one she had seen previously. all his bluster and tease had gone leaving instead the man, or at least that vulnerable part of him that she was sure he rarely revealed. It made her want to reveal in turn, to tell him something of her troubles. But at the same time she didn't trust him. She didn't trust anyone in this place. She couldn't. How could she tell anyone the truth?
If she told him it would probably be that witch shit again. Or an asylum. Seeing the way regular people lived she doubted their psychiatric care was anything she'd like to experience. That was if he didn't just laugh at her. Somehow that seemed the worst possibility, for reasons she didn't want to consider.

But something was urging her to speak, to at least share part of the burden. She didn't have to tell him everything, she could leave out the whole I'm from the future' bit and just stick to the lost and scared stuff'.

she began but before she had a chance to say more the ship lurched to one side, sending her crashing into him. Immediately she pushed away from him, keeping her exposed skin well clear. She didn't want him to know about her powers. When she'd told him before he hadn't believed her an she wanted to keep it that way.

Bloody boy Jack muttered, throwing her a commiserating look before striding to the stern, calling out insults as he went.

Rogue turned back to the water, dark now that the sun had dipped below the horizon. She didn't know if it was a sign not to reveal anything but it certainly made her think twice about what she was going to say. Suddenly she felt a sharp stab of homesickness. For Kurt and Logan and the Professor and Kitty. Hell even for Scott and Jean. The view didn't look so good anymore and she turned away, upset and annoyed at the same time.

She walked toward the others, arguing before the wheel, her good mood completely gone. She wanted to go home.

TBC