Thanks to:
XME – Thank you!
Sangofanatic – Not as soon as I would have liked but I hope it was worth the wait!
LadyEvils – I haven't actually decided if there will be any Jean/ Logan and if there is it won't be anytime soon…I live for slow build-ups! And although romance may not be the first thing on people's minds, some one's got to repopulate the world ;) Lance without a shirt – I just had to have that in there (not that I'm a perv – OK, I am!). I don't think that anyone would automatically know how to deal with a kid, even a mother, so I thought he'd need some help there. Although he would make one of the better daddy-figures.
Todd Fan – Oh yeah, I got plenty in store for Wanda!
Ishandahalf – Not as fast as a bunny on crack – more a bunny on pot! I wanted to look at characters I don't often look at as well as the ones I use a lot – I thought that the difference in how some one like Jean would react would be different to some one like X23 and I didn't want everyone to be tortured. Just most of 'em ;) The sickness has pretty much run its course now but there will be more troubles in the not-so-brave new world!
Southern Goth Gal – That exciting huh? Glad all your fave characters made you happy sis!
Minnalouche – I will get to the rest of your excellent story this week – I've been temporarily injured and haven't been able to see properly all week (I only have the use of one eye at the moment). Sabretooth as a cub? Bet he was a cute l'il bundle of fluff…OK, maybe not! I really couldn't think of a name for a baby, but I think I might stick with Dominic – or Kid. And Remy and Rogue having dinner was totally random, I don't know where that came from!
TheDreamerLady – If the link between survivors is bizarre hair then we can expect Ray to turn up later on! Hope this chappy is as good as the last one!
Ciardra – Glad you're enjoying it so far! Grammar actually tends to be a problem of mine but feel free to point out any errors you spot – I've no problem changing stuff to improve the fic.
Rogue14 – I'm sorry I haven't reviewed 'Revenge' yet! I've lost the use of one of my eyes and it gives me a headache to read the computer. Not too bad to write because I don't have to look at the screen…but now I'm used to my temporary Cyclops-ness, I hope to get to it! Rogue and Gambit are safe from the disease but I'm not promising anything else, hahaha!
Furygrrl – There's gonna be more evildoers throughout the fic (not everyone who survived is a good guy lol). I didn't want Lance to have an easy time with the kid, although the bonding thing happened automatically, I hadn't planned it. Logan and Raven seem to work well together, I've put them talking here again. I've got plans for Magneto too! And Rogue's newfound precognition is going to come into play more and more over the following chapters. Trust me, I'd trade my creepy basement for a nice cushy study – I'm supposed to be working down there!
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Todd looked gloomily up at the mansion. Mystique had ordered him to come here, pool their resources. Apparently, there were mutants still alive. He knew Jean Grey vaguely – not that he'd ever spoken to her. She didn't hang around in the same crowd as he did and she probably didn't even know his name. But it would be nice to speak to some one who wasn't Mystique. The woman had been on edge ever since people began getting sick and he had no idea why. And the building was huge, much better than the Brotherhood house. Maybe he could have a bigger room.
"Hurry up!" Mystique strode past him up the drive and Todd followed timidly. He wasn't comfortable with unknown quantities. He liked the world to be familiar, even if his place in that world was lowly. And there was no greater unknown quantity than being thrust into a mansion devoid of all but a few students – he wasn't sure how many – and expected to get along with them. Failing that, he could go out into the world of the dead and see how well he got along then.
Jean woke up slowly, luxuriating in the feel of soft sheets and no particular place to go. For a few blissful moments it was like any other day, like she could expect Scott to start hammering at her door and telling her to stop doing 'girl things' so they would get to school on time…
Then she remembered that Scott was dead and a wave of guilt crashed down on her. How had she been able to sleep so well, so peacefully, when everyone in the mansion was buried in the garden? When she had no idea as to the whereabouts or well being of her parents or her sister? True she'd grabbed scarcely a couple of troubled hours rest since Scott had first sickened, but she should have been dreaming about it surely. She shouldn't have let them leave her mind for even a moment, because the first step to people being truly dead was when those left behind forgot to remember.
She got out of bed, feeling an awful lot less drained than she had just the day before and got into the shower, the water thankfully hot due to the generator. The shower woke her up even more and she realised she was actually hungry. In spite of the voice in her head telling her she had no reason to be happy when the others were dead, she felt good. Refreshed, confident, glad to be alive. Feeling those things might be wrong under the circumstances but it didn't change the facts.
As she pulled on jeans and a shirt, she mentally searched the mansion and found there were three other people in the house. Slightly worried, she frowned. She recognised Logan's brain patterns from the previous day – she had been half-afraid that he had been a figment of her overworked imagination – but the other two were unfamiliar although not unknown. A part of her wondered if Logan was such a good guy after all or if he was part of some conspiracy to round up survivors for some reason. Then she mentally shook herself. If there were other people in the mansion, all it meant was that Logan had found some other survivors. She should be grateful, not suspicious.
Making her way downstairs, she could smell something cooking and her stomach growled in response. Quelling the notion that if she read their minds she would know what to expect, she walked into the kitchen. She was unprepared for the sight that greeted her.
A skinny kid she thought she might have seen around Bayville High sat at the table, eating like he hadn't seen food in a week. Logan chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon, glaring into the distance. But most surprising was the woman drinking a glass of orange juice. Her skin was blue.
"Good morning Jean," said Logan, snapping himself out of his musings. "Feel OK?"
"Well – yeah."
Logan smiled a little. "This is Todd – you two might know each other from school."
"Hey," said Todd, not bothering to look up as he attacked a pile of sausages.
"And this is Raven."
"We've met," said Raven.
"Uh, I don't think so," said Jean, at the same time thinking that she'd heard that voice before. "I'm sure I'd remember you."
Logan snorted. "Doubtful."
Jean ignored the comment and grabbed a plate, piling it high with food before Todd could eat it all. She had been planning to sit next to Todd, maybe get to know him a little better – he was about her age and could probably use a friend rather than the authority figure that Raven seemed to be – then she got close enough to smell him and wrinkled her nose. Quickly, she moved around to the far end of the table, near Logan. Hadn't Logan said that he had heightened senses? Todd's odour had to be driving him mad.
As if in response to her thought, Logan turned his attention to Todd. "Grab yourself a room anywhere you like – there's enough of them. And there's, uh, hot water if you wanna take a shower."
"No thanks, I'm good for another few weeks," said Todd casually.
"That wasn't a suggestion bub."
Todd widened his eyes, his sudden fear almost palpable. "Yeah, sure, shower, I'll do that now."
Jean watched him scuttle out of the room, feeling sympathetic. Whatever the boy's life had been like before he came to the mansion, he certainly had an irrational fear of authority.
Neither Raven or Logan seemed to notice and Jean continued with her breakfast, the good feeling beginning to wane. Both the Professor and Storm would have gone out of their way to make Todd feel welcome but these two didn't seem the nurturing type. She only hoped any other survivors were slightly more receptive to other people's feelings.
"Kid's a little uptight, isn't he Raven?" Logan returned to the subject several minutes after Jean thought they had forgotten all about it. "You the reason for that?"
"I took him in from a home," said Raven testily. "I treated him well enough."
"Right. You did that from the goodness of your heart, not because the kid was a mutant."
Raven sighed. "I told you about this last night."
There was more silence. Jean kept her head down, looking at the adults cautiously. There was some prior relationship between the two but it seemed fraught with animosity. She wanted to know more but it didn't seem the time to ask. And there was something about Raven she distrusted.
"If the generator's still working, is Cerebro?" Raven spoke abruptly, the question obviously having played on her mind for a while.
Logan seemed startled. "No reason why it shouldn't be, the system still has the rest of the mansion online. But it might just be performing the essential functions and Cerebro isn't one of them."
"But if it is…well, we have a telepath in residence." Raven glanced over at Jean.
"What's your point Mystique?" Logan's voice was harsh.
"Simple. If Cerebro can be used to track mutants, then we can look for survivors all over the country. All over the world eventually."
Jean jumped to her feet. "That's right! We should start right now!"
"Can you contact them telepathically through Cerebro?" Logan asked her.
"I don't think so – I've never used it myself, although I sometimes watched the Professor use it."
"Great." Raven looked disgusted. "If she screws it up, that's our best shot at finding survivors gone."
"There are other ways," said Logan. "And who says that all the survivors want to be found? Maybe they just want to be left in peace."
"You don't believe that," replied Raven. "Even you came running back, looking for human company. If the flu is as serious as I…is as serious it appears to be, there may be people around with no way of finding other people. We can gather them here."
"Why?" Logan regarded Raven suspiciously. "What's with the sudden concern about the human race all of a sudden? Why do you feel the need to gather people? This isn't another one of Magneto's little plans is it?"
"No!" Raven slammed her fist against the table for emphasis. "I haven't heard from Magneto since before the flu escaped. I don't know where he is. He could be dead for all I know."
"Magneto? Doubt it." Logan still seemed wary of Mystique's motives but for the time being at least dropped the subject.
Jean pushed away her plate, all her appetite gone. She had no idea who 'Magneto' was but Logan seemed to distrust him and Raven both. So why had he let her into the mansion? All she could think of was that either it had something to do with Todd – Logan might be gruff and irritable but she sensed that he was a good man and he'd want to help out a kid in trouble, the way he had with her – or else Raven had some kind of hold over him. She couldn't imagine it was the latter.
Quietly she left her plate and left the room, finding Todd clean and fully dressed standing at the top of the stairs. She gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile. "Hi Todd. Found yourself a room yet?"
"Haven't looked," said Todd, peering over the banister. "That Logan guy, he a friend of yours?"
"I only met him last night. He seems nice."
"Sure," said Todd with a bitter laugh. "Still, he's gotta be better than Mystique."
"I wondered…" Jean wondered how to ask. "What's she like? Why do I feel like we've met before?"
"You have. She's a shapeshifter. Her day job is Principal of Hellhole High."
"Principal Darkholme?" Jean turned the idea around in her mind. The two women shared several characteristics, the way they spoke and their posture. But the Principal a mutant? Jean couldn't believe it.
"You never noticed? Thought you read minds yo."
"I can but I don't unless I have permission."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Powers aren't about having fun, they're about being responsible, making life better."
"Right." Todd gave her a sneaky sideways glance. "You're telling me that you never used your powers for anything fun?"
"Well…maybe a few things," said Jean, remembering the time she had used her telekinesis to spray Scott with water from the fountain. Then she realised she would never again be able to play silly pranks on Scott again and her happiness withered.
Todd glanced up at her hopefully. "Maybe you could show me around, y'know, tell me where everything is. I keep feeling like I'm gonna get lost or something."
Jean forced herself to think of the present. "Sure. I'll help you find a room."
She took the boy on a guided tour, grateful for the opportunity to take her mind off the issues swirling around her head since she had woken up. The past was dead; the future uncertain, the people that now surrounded her unknown. She didn't know what to think of the people that for now at least were her companions but she thought that no matter how unsettling she found the woman – Principal Darkholme, now that was weird – she had been right. There was a way for them to find other survivors, others as alone and afraid and uncertain as she had been. Still was.
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Rogue ate ravenously, momentarily forgetting the stranger opposite. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything but toast and biscuits, too busy taking care of Irene at first and then too depressed and confused to think of anything so mundane. But the smell of the tin of spaghetti bolognaise that the stranger – Remy, she reminded herself – was eating had made her realise just how hungry she was. He dumped half the tin on a plate in front of her and she hadn't been able to resist. A part of her felt guilty – how could she be thinking of food when everyone she had ever known was dead? But the thought didn't kill her appetite.
They were sat on the grass in the local park, the lengthening shadows and the small flame from the gas-powered camping stove making her see the area in a way she never had before. She had never thought of the place as anything more than a place to play in her childhood years, later relegated to a short cut between school and home. Given a few more years and a lack of epidemic, it might have been the place where she came with her dates.
She shoved that thought out of her head in a hurry.
Remy waited until she had finished before he asked any questions. "Chere, you said you know Remy would be here – how?"
Rogue shook her head, her mind returning to the urge that had led her out here. "Ah don't know. It was like an itch in mah head. Ah had a feeling that some one would be here, some one like you. Ah could see you in mah head…" She trailed off, not quite knowing how to describe it.
"Dis de first time it happen?"
"Yeah – no. Ah thought ah saw you in mah head before but ah was…upset. Mah mother…"
Remy waited, not wanting to prompt her. She had obviously just lost her family and he didn't want to be seen as insensitive, even though he wanted to know the answer. Was she a mutant? It seemed likely if she could see him in her head before she had even met him.
Eventually Rogue looked up again and continued. "Mah mother – mah adoptive mother Irene – she died and ah held her hand. At the same time all these – images – ran through mah mind. People ah don't know, places ah've never been. Ah don't know what happened. And since then ah keep getting ideas, like things are gonna happen. Ah thought it was – ah dunno, stress or something. But here you are."
"Oui." Remy thought he knew what was happening. She was a mutant, a precognitive by the sound or maybe some kind of telepath, the powers triggered by the emotional turmoil of her mother's death. That would be useful. He could do with knowing what was around the corner in a world he didn't recognise anymore.
"Guess you think ah'm crazy, huh?" Rogue gave a shaky laugh. "Ah'm sure beginning to think ah am."
"No chere." Remy made as if to take her hands and she snatched them away. It might be rude, but she couldn't shake the memory of the feeling she'd had when she'd touched Irene's skin. She was wearing gloves as always, the habit deeply ingrained from the time the dermatologist told her she had a skin condition and Irene had insisted she never went out without them, but she still didn't want to touch him. Just in case.
Pretending he hadn't noticed the gesture, Remy made like he was warming his hands against the camping stove, pretty ridiculous in the balmy Mississippi evening but at least he saved face. "Chere, do you know anything about mutants?"
"No – yes – ah don't know. Ah never thought about it before but when ah saw those images ah just knew that some of them were mutants. They all had different powers – but that was just mah imagination. A stupid hallucination!"
"When Remy was in New Orleans, he met a man who told him about mutants." Remy popped open a bottle of beer he'd liberated from a nearby shop and offered it to Rogue. "Until then, Remy t'ought he was the only person in de world with dese powers."
Rogue gave him a disbelieving look. "Powers? What powers?"
Remy took a card out of his pocket and charged it, watching Rogue's eyes grow wide in surprise. He flicked it aside casually and it exploded a short distance away, blackening the grass.
"Oh. Mah. God!" Rogue gaped at him. "How do you do that?"
"Dunno." Remy popped the top of another beer and drank. "Just woke up one morning and pow! Dere it was."
"So…" Rogue battled her confusion as best she could. "Who was it that told you about mutants?"
"Man called himself Magneto…chere, you alright?"
Rogue didn't reply, clutching her head as her mind was suddenly overcome with images…
Tall, white hair, blue eyes that seemed to burn into ones soul, emerging from the wilderness to shake up their lives…
The girl, screaming in anger, determined to get revenge…
The boy, caught in the middle, not knowing what to do for the best…
Behind them all the shadow, something that would scar all their lives, something with no mercy that couldn't be stopped…
"NO!"
"Chere!" Remy caught hold of her wrists, fortunately covered by her shirt. "What's wrong?"
"Something's after them…something. Ah don't know what."
"After who?"
"Ah don't know!" Rogue snatched her hands away and ran them through her hair. "It's so unclear, ah just wish ah knew what…"
Something came back to her, a memory. Her eyes widened. "The drawer!"
"Huh?"
"Irene said there was something for me in the drawer, that ah shouldn't open in for a week. That was a week ago!"
"But…"
Rogue jumped up, truly excited. "Maybe it says something in there about what's going on! Maybe she knew something! Why else would she want me to leave it for a week? Come on, let's go!"
Remy got up and followed reluctantly, taking out his bike keys and suggesting they ride. He was beginning to have misgivings about this girl. Not that he didn't think he could trust her – she was a bereaved, confused teenage girl and he doubted she was up to anything underhand – but there was something strange going on. Did she really believe some foster mother in small-town Mississippi knew something about a flu epidemic? And if she did, how? Was Rogue a precognitive or a telepath – or something else?
He didn't know. But he intended to find out.
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Sam didn't know what to do.
His family were buried. It had taken him from dawn until past nightfall but he had done it. He had fallen into an exhausted sleep that had been haunted by dreams. In some of them Paige ripped her skin off in the extremes of her fever. In others he ran from room to room trying to tend to all his family members, wearing himself too thin to do more than bear witness to their suffering. The most ominous one saw him trekking from house to house all over town, finding nothing but empty houses and echoes the only things greeting his shouts. When he woke up he was no more rested than he had been upon going to sleep, the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong with his life still there.
He had searched the whole town, being more reminded of his dream with every house he went to. There seemed to be no one left alive in the whole town. Every time he pushed open a door he was greeted by silence. Every time he called, there was no reply. The only people there were the corpses of his neighbours.
He had gone back home – where else was there? It crossed his mind that he could go anywhere he liked now he didn't have to worry about the confines of school but a part of him was too scared. What if everywhere was like this? He knew the flu hadn't been confined to his town. Knowing that everyone he had ever known was dead was bad enough. He couldn't imagine leaving, searching the rest of the state and finding no one alive – that would be soul destroying. And what then? Leave the state and search the rest of America? It would take him years and there was no certainty of finding survivors.
He could live without knowing, but he wasn't sure he could live without hope. He knew that at some point he would have to move on, try to find other people, he couldn't spend the rest of his life wandering about this town of the dead, but he wanted to put it off for a little while longer. Build up his courage. And somehow work out how to say goodbye to the only home he had ever known and the family he would be forced to leave buried there.
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"I don't think she's up to it," said Logan, giving Mystique a glare. "She just watched three people die and she doesn't know where her family are. Give her a break."
"We can't afford the delay," replied Mystique irritably. "We have to find other survivors."
"Why right now?"
"Because another week with only you for company and I'll go insane." Mystique leant back in her chair, listening out for Jean or Todd but hearing neither. "Because if we leave it a while then there may not be as many survivors left to find."
"What are you talking about?"
"The disease had a communicability rate that wiped out most of the country. This is a damn big country, how many people are going to think they're the only ones left? At first it might be hard for them but as time goes on it'll only get harder and when they think they know it'll always be that way – they might give up, do something stupid. Not to mention all the other things that affect people everyday and wouldn't be serious if the world wasn't like it is now. Food poisoning – no refrigeration or ovens, how many are going to undercook bad meat on an open fire? Fires are another thing, I'll bet that a lot of people use them for comfort while they sleep and let them get out of control. Broken bones, infected wounds, everyday problems that are suddenly a big deal because no one knows how to deal with them. And what about people that can't take care of themselves, like kids?"
"Since when did you become the voice of social concern?" Logan tried to sound sarcastic but inwardly he was shaken. He had thought about the survivors of course but he hadn't thought as far as what might be happening to them. He'd assumed they would all be doing what they were doing, finding one or two others, banding together, getting by. He hadn't considered that they might not be coping.
"I have to do something." Mystique kept her voice low but there was an underlying tension there. Logan frowned. There was something different about Mystique since he had returned to Bayville. She had always been hard, selfish, unconcerned about others and he doubted that the outbreak would change her that much. Yet she seemed desperate to help those left alive, from the boy she had brought with her to the nameless others scattered throughout the country. It wasn't like her, but he didn't know what could have made her change.
"Fine." Logan came to a decision. "I'll ask Jean if she's up to using Cerebro, try and get a lock on some of the other survivors. If she can, we can use the Velocity to go after them, see if they want to come back here, though what we'll do with them once they're here I don't know. If she can't trace them – she might not be able to use Cerebro remember – tough. Don't make her feel bad about it."
"She has to trace them," said Mystique, ignoring Logan's curious looks. She was responsible for the death of millions of innocent people and the least she could do now was to do what she could to help those she hadn't.
Maybe that would give her some peace of mind.