Of Beast And Blade

by Scribbler

[AU] In a distant realm where sword and sorcery rule, unlikely heroes have been chosen to save their world. [Ch20: Ororo finally shows her true colours. Meanwhile, Tabby's dramatic appearance in the fight against Sabertooth may be a double edged sword]

5. The Past Returns

DISCLAIMER: X-Men:Evo belongs to Warner Bros. And Marvel Comics. I have never, and shall never own them, no matter how much I may want to. I've simply warped them to fit my own twisted mind. However, this fic and any original work herein is officially mine, and anyone trying to steal it will find out how painful a weapon a computer mouse can when used by someone with imagination.

WARNINGS: This is an AU (Alternative Universe) fic. Everything has been transplanted into a fantasy universe of my creation. Inspirations, despite what you might initially think, aren't actually from a certain Peter-Jackson-esque film, since I started work on this before I ever *saw* that movie. Influences rather include Internutter's spiffy fic 'Mein Teuful' (if you haven't yet read this then go do it *now*!) and various other sources I'll explain later.

CODES:
Hello = Narration
~ Hello ~ = Thought
"Hello" = Character Speaking
*Hello* = Bold
//Hello// = Psychic communication

AUTHOR'S NOTES: OK, 'Nike, I have little to no sense of direction or distance-measurment in imperial since I work primarily in metric. Honestly, my intent wasn't to *kill* poor Kurt, only rough him up a bit (insert evil grin here, manic cackling optional.) Will they pick up anybody else? Now, that'd be telling, wouldn't it?

I apologise for my lack of good grammar and spelling. One reason for this might be that I live in the UK, and our way of spelling certain words differs from the rest of the world. However, there are some mistakes I have to just say sorry for. I'm off to Uni to do an English Lit course soon, so there's really no excuse for them.

Now, onwards and upwards, peeps. This is officially the longest chapter in the whole fic, so brace yourselves. ^_^ Also, there is some Gehín in here I won't be translating, because it basically gives away a crux that has to be kept until later. So until then, you're all in the same ignorant boat as Kurt and Kitty.

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'Of Beast And Blade' By Scribbler
Chapter Three ~ 'The Past Returns'

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'Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear.' -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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It emerged that, since the twin deaths of her parents several months previously, Kitty hadn't been into the city of Zanninsa at all, instead eking out an existence on the stored foodstuffs in her pantry and meagre vegetable garden. Snares also made up a part of her diet, but these were often left unsprung by shrewd animals, and not really a reliable source of sustenance. All of which accounted for her painfully thin frame and physical gauntness.

When her father was alive, she'd made regular trips to Zanninsa on market days and public occasions, as the city wasn't a great distance from the disused quarry. But she'd ceased going when he could no longer accompany her. There just didn't seem much point without him, she'd surmised. As a result, she'd become somewhat of a hermit - albeit a friendly one. Her knowledge of the route to Zanninsa was to prove invaluable though, as she and her newly acquired fellow travellers journeyed to their destination. Many were the times her shrill voice could be heard directing them on the best course to take - much to the annoyance of The Rogue, who'd apparently also been to Zanninsa before, and didn't enjoy having her choice of direction undermined.

"No, don't go that way, you'll put like, hours on the trip. Turn left here. Where are you going? Zanninsa's *that* way? Turn around. Keep going past the Sinking Sands - but don't fall in, now. No don't go over there, Kurt, that's poison ivy!"

The Rogue didn't say much in return, but on several occasions Kurt was positive he could here her growling like a wild dog, though she kept her hood pulled up as usual, hiding her face in its deep shadows.

They reached Zanninsa in the wee hours of the morning. It was uncertain when they would have arrived had it not been for Kitty's copious directions, but when they caught sight of the city, all petty squabbles were forgotten in the tremendous sense of awe that simultaneously washed over them.

Zanninsa was resplendent in its glory. The unlikely trio crested a large hill at the periphery and stared down at it. A veritable sea of lights spread out before them, twinkling and glittering like fabled jewels in the blackness that was afforded by the mere sliver of a moon. As far as the eye could see, sprawling urban landscape stretched its municipal fingers, touching the wilderness beyond, but truly pulsing only within the city boundaries. Even at night it was a hive of activity, with the people appearing as ants from their lofty vantage point.

Kurt gaped openly, having never been exposed to more than the village of Padra near his home, he had been unaware of just how big a city could be, especially one as splendid as Zanninsa, the market capital of Germania, which sat directly on its border with the land of Österrik.

"Es ist riesig," he breathed. "Ich hatte keine Idee."

"Beautiful, huh?" Kitty smiled, not understanding his words but enjoying his patent stupefaction all the same. "It looks a lot better at night than during the day. You're like, totally lucky to see it this way, Kurt."

"Ach, ja?" he replied, not taking his golden eyes from the sparkling dots. He was like a magpie surrounded by an endless host of shiny coins. "What about you, Rogue? Do you think it's beautiful?"

"Beauty is for fools and weaklings," she replied with her first remark in hours, before starting down the slope with her typical felinous grace.

"I thought you'd say something like that," he muttered ruefully.

Thus far, all attempts to thaw the former-assassin had failed miserably, and - as that little outburst showed - her ice-queen exterior still remained intact. Although, somewhere along the way, she'd lost the *The* part of her title, reducing her to the more bathetic 'Rogue', which sounded much nicer in his opinion. She hadn't protested, so he'd persisted in calling her this, eventually even turning Kitty towards the more companionable name, though Kitty wasn't feeling particularly charitable towards the girl who'd very nearly slit her throat for saying the wrong thing. The atmosphere between the two females was strained at best, with Kitty shying away from any personal contact, and Rogue neither seeking company nor actively turning away from Kurt's continual attempts to offer it.

Now, she strode forward down the slope. Purposeful, and silently brooking no argument from her unwanted companions. Kitty and Kurt trotted after her like dutiful puppy dogs, drinking in the sight like it was the elixir of life. That is, until Kurt suddenly and unexpectedly stopped. Kitty carried on for a few more paces before noticing. When she became aware of his absence by her side, she turned and called back to him.

"Hey, what's the matter? Doncha wanna see Zanninsa up close?"

"Ja, aber - " Kurt replied, but he never finished his sentence, for at that moment his reversed-knees chose to buckle, throwing him from his feet onto his back in the soft turf.

Kitty let out a piercing, urgent cry, which caused Rogue to halt and look back to see what was the matter. Not that she actually intended on doing anything about it, but she preferred to know the cause behind such noise.

Kitty reached Kurt's side and knelt down. "Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong? Is it your hand again? Tell me."

"Nein," he should his head from where he lay staring up at the stars. "Es ist nothing. I sometimes get like this when I haven't eaten for a while, is all."

"Well like, when did you last eat?"

He screwed up his nose in thought. "Um, breakfast. I think."

"But that was like, absolutely hours ago. Does this happen often?"

"Nein, not usually. As a rule I remember to eat."

"You have a high metabolism," informed Rogue, appearing at Kitty's shoulder. Kitty squeaked in surprise - she hadn't even, like, heard her draw near.

"A who's-in-the-what-now?"

Rogue sighed at her unconcealed ignorance. "A. High. Metabolism. It's a concept from Biologikel-Science. It means your body uses up energy faster than most."

"Biologikel-Science?" Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that, like, some new fangled study in Spaniet?"

"Yeah."

~ Then how the hell do *you* know about it? ~

Kitty tilted her face in a miniscule act of defiance - a dangerous action indeed considering its target, but Kitty's nature had a problem with subjugation, and more often than not it broke through the barriers set up by common sense.

"So what do you propose we do? Since you seem to have all the answers."

"*I* propose to do nothing. His metabolism's not mah problem. But if *you* wanna do something, then he needs energy."

"Energy?"

"Feed. Him. Can I put it any clearer?"

Kitty 'harrumphed' and set about helping Kurt to his feet. The furry boy staggered slightly, leaning heavily against her. Despite his obvious good health, Kitty was struck by how delicate he was. He weighed practically nothing, and his waist was more of a twig than a trunk. She encouraged him to drape his arm around her shoulders for support. His fur was wet with clamminess from the skin beneath, and his breathing was a little faster than usual.

Rogue slipped quietly ahead of them as they began descending the hill once more. She muttered a silent thank-you to a certain leading Spaniard scientist who'd been a mission of hers several months back. The notes she'd found on his desk on varying metabolisms in different races had been interesting at the time - though the bloodstains had made part of them illegible. She'd never figured they'd be of any use to her though. She'd have bet a hundred Liones that guy would have had a field day observing the elf.

Eventually, they reached the base of the hill, straggling apart, but keeping each other in view. The city wall loomed before them, tall and imposing. Hundreds of feet tall. They were still countless feet away, but gave the impression of towering over their heads even at that distance. As they made their way towards them, Kurt found himself using Kitty more and more as support, to the point where he was unsure if he would even be able to stand up on his own any more. Kitty noticed how he was weakening, but said nothing. He needed all his strength for walking, and it wasn't fair to make him waste it by engaging him in conversation.

When they arrived at the wall, Kurt could barely stand up, and clutched at Kitty in a way that would have made him blush right down to the roots of his fur had he not been so feverish and distracted. As it was, Kitty blushed enough for both of them, and was thankful that the darkness around them shrouded her crimson cheeks.

The wall was whitewashed and latticed everywhere with cracks in the paintwork. Rogue paused for a second, staring up at it in quiet contemplation. Then she turned and traced its path for several metres to her left, leaving Kitty and Kurt follow as best they could. Further along, the object of Rogue's search became apparent. Two huge wooden gates, criss-crossed with black metal bars. Next to it was a booth of sorts, roughly hewn into the stonework. This too was shuttered by heavy wooden boards. Beside it perched a torch, burning brightly, and illuminating the whole scene with a ghostly light.

Rogue rapped on the shutters of the booth with her knuckles. Nothing happened. For several moments there was silence, punctured only by unidentifiable animal-calls from the forest they'd just left behind. Rogue knocked again, with more vigour. Still nothing happened. Kitty shifted uncomfortable from foot to foot. Kurt was fast becoming a dead weight pulling at her shoulder.

"I guess nobody's home," she affirmed.

Rogue shot her a disgusted look. "There's always somebody 'home'. This is the Gatekeeper's Booth. It's his job to be 'home'."

She thumped her fist against the wood, and was rewarded with a low curse and shuffling from within. Rogue stepped back, and after several seconds a small aperture slid open halfway up one shutter, revealing a pair of watery grey eyes fringed by copious wrinkles in parchment-like skin.

"Yeah, whaddya want?" a gruff, irritable voice muffled its way through the barrier.

"I seek passage into the city," Rogue reeled off, as if she'd dealt with thousands of grumpy gatekeepers before.

"S'after hours. Can't let nobody in 'till dawn. Them's the rules," the watery eyes creased into slits as the Gatekeeper yawned. "Come back then, when the gates are open," and he made to shut the aperture.

"If you let me in, I can make I worth your while."

He stopped. "How much?"

"Three Silver Kistrels."

"Costs five."

"It didn't when I passed this way last."

"Price went up. S'five now."

"I'll Give you four, and a Bronze Tigris. Final offer."

He thought for a moment. "Done. Money first, then passage."

"You'll get half now, and the rest when I'm standing on the other side."

The Gatekeeper grunted, but relented. He thrust a hand out through the narrow aperture, closing his knarled fist greedily around the coins Rogue placed in his palm. The eyes then disappeared behind the wood, and after a few minutes a small, previously unnoticed door cut into the massive wooden gate creaked open. The Gatekeeper stuck his wrinkled old face round, beckoning Rogue forward. She obliged, but halted when he jerked a thumb at Kitty and Kurt and whispered loudly.

"What about them?"

Rogue didn't even bother looking round. Instead she simply sighed and grunted. "They're with me."

"Gonna cost you extra - " the old man began.

"Don't even try it!" she cut him off. Something in her tone told him she was not to be argued with, and he grudgingly pulled back the lesser door to let them through, grumbling all the while.

Once safely inside the city walls, Rogue dutifully paid the cantankerous fellow, who disappeared back inside his warm booth with a curious glance at the half-collapsed Kurt and a mutter of; "Weirdoes."

"Pebehock!" Rogue shot back to the closed door. It was a Gehín word, and Kitty didn't understand quite what it meant, but simply from Rogue's tone of voice it was easy to tell it wasn't anything complimentary.

Rogue spun on her heel and stalked away, catching Kitty's shoulder as she passed. Kitty, already off-balance under the combined weight of both herself and Kurt, tumbled over from the contact into an ungainly heap. She tried frantically to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs - which looked rather compromising to the average passer-by - without hurting either herself or Kurt, but only served to enmesh herself further. Kurt attempted to help, but his own weak limbs refused to cooperate, and he could only manage the odd; "Es tut mir leid, Kätzchen."

Kitty was in the process of turning a spectacular shade of cerise, whilst simultaneously trying to yank her skirt down, which was rising rapidly and exposing an embarrassing amount of bare leg, when her self-conscious prayers were answered in a most unusual fashion. A gloved hand reached as if from nowhere, roughly grabbing the elf by the back of his collar and wrenching him discourteously off her. Kitty stared up at her saviour, breathing hard.

~ OK, slow down the breathing, Kitty, ~ she told herself. ~ Considering what that just looked like, heavy breathing is so, like, *not* gonna help. ~

It was only when she saw the deep hood and cloak that she realised who it was had rescued her from public humiliation.

"Hmm, that life of solitude got to you, did it?" Rogue sneered.

Kitty sprang to her feet indignantly. "No it did not, thank you!" she reached out to release Kurt from where he dangled in her grasp.

"Don't even bother." Rogue waved her away, slinging the limp elf easily over one shoulder. He didn't even cry out as he made contact with the armour beneath her cloak. "He's so out of it he can't even stand up any more, let alone walk. His metabolism must be off the chart."

"Well what do we do?" Kitty asked urgently. "He needs something to eat. We have to get him some food before he gets worse," she shuddered inadvertently. 'Worse' was something she didn't even want to, like, think about.

"We?" Rogue repeated, a hint of incredulity edging her voice. "Do you have any money? No, I didn't think so. And I'm not spending *mah* funds on him."

"So what do you propose we *do* then?"

"Well, if it were up to me, I'd just leave him here."

"So why don't you then?" Kitty was getting impatient. All the time they were talking, Kurt was getting sicker. 'Worse' loomed closer as a distinct possibility.

Rogue adjusted the elf's weight on her shoulder to a more secure arrangement, and then strode off with her characteristic silent speed and insolence. Kitty was left standing open mouthed, voice deserting her at the older girl's rudeness.

~ She is so, like, impossible! ~ she thought angrily as she scurried after the swift duo.

Rogue traversed the dark streets of Zanninsa with proficient ease. It was patently obvious that she'd been there before, and anyone who saw her pass by would have ignored her as a resident of the city had it not been for the peculiar blue bundle draped across her shoulder, and the skinny peasant girl hurrying behind. Kitty alone merited a second glance, but Kurt earned himself many curious stares and whispered comments, causing Rogue the roll her eyes and hurry on before someone stopped them and asked her what she was doing. She did *not* need any unanswerable questions right now, not when time was so short. She was certain They would have picked up her trail by now. She couldn't afford to allow them any advantage over her.

It was in consequence to these musings that Rogue did something she would never usually have done. Ordinarily, to rid herself of her unwanted companions she would have just taken them both down a deserted alley somewhere, slit their throats and be gone before anyone ever found the bodies and associated them with her. But because of the interest people were now showing in them, such surreptitious action was subsequently denied to her. If she wanted to move swiftly before They arrived, she had to take the most trouble-free route possible given the circumstances - much as it pained her to do so.

Kitty glanced apprehensively around her. She didn't recognise any of the streets, despite having been into Zanninsa numerous times before. With every step they took, the surrounding area became darker, as fewer and fewer lamps became evident. Everywhere was swallowed up in inky blackness, intimidating and near blinding. She put on a burst of speed and drew closer to Rogue.

"Hey... um.... where are we, like, going? This isn't the way into the city centre." She'd assumed, apparently wrongly so, that they were heading to Zanninsa so late at night because of the famous indoor market in its centre. It was renowned as 'The Market that Never Sleeps', and people had been known to own stalls there for thirty years or more and never shut up shop once in all that time.

"We're not going to the centre. We're going to Cheapside," Rogue replied.

Kitty goggled. "Cheapside?!" A grizzled man bent double with age looked up at her shout, and she forced her voice down to a low whisper. "Cheapside? Are you, like, crazy? That's suicide. Nobody goes to Cheapside at night. Hells, nobody goes to Cheapside during the day either if they, like, know what's good for them." Horrific pictures manifested themselves in her mind, sprung from the numerous gory rumours that circulated concerning the rougher area of the city. It was common knowledge that to enter into Cheapside without protection was to run an intractable risk of losing your purse, your life or both.

"Mah sword will protect us," Rogue stated confidently. Kitty wasn't so sure. Somehow, one ex-assassin versus the entire Zanninsa underworld didn't seem like very good odds to her. She stayed close to Rogue's heels. There was safety in numbers - she hoped.

It was unclear exactly *when* they entered Cheapside, but after a while Kitty began to notice how few people there were around, and how those that were there leered intimidatingly at the two girls and comatose elf as they passed. The very houses themselves seemed threatening, leaning forward on their foundations to encapsulate the streets with ominously long shadows. The younger girl didn't mind admitting that she was more then a little scared, and shivered inadvertently as a chill - not from the cold, as it was an unusually warm night - crept down her spine.

Rogue cast about her with near-imperceptible jerks of her head. It had been some time since she was last in Zanninsa, and, if truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure of her bearings in relation to the destination she had in mind. Her dark eyes slid back and forth, drinking in the murky doorways filled with drunkards and bountiful amounts of unmentionable refuse. Some of these unfortunates waved bottles or filthy hands in their direction, convinced that the strange ensemble was just part of some alcohol-induced hallucination. But for the most part, they simply sat comatose, waiting for the morning and the promise of more liquor.

At last the trio paused. Kitty huddled as close to Rogue as she dared, peering up at the building they'd stopped in front of. It was a gaudy public house, with brightly coloured banners strung across the doorway and the words 'Das Rückenhaus' painted in faded gold lettering above. Garish music filtered out through the open doorway. The kind that makes you tap your toes until you realise just what the lyrics are.

Kitty gazed curiously into the establishment, past the dangling banners - which had obviously seen better days - into the room beyond. A large makeshift stage had been set up next to the rather seedy looking bar, and on it, three dancing girls pranced and twirled in ruffled skirts and incredibly low cut blouses like heavily made-up harpies.

One of them stooped to where a smirking man leaned against the platform, jiggling her chest at him and exhibiting rather too much cleavage then was absolutely necessary. He grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold coin. The dancing girl snatched it avariciously from his hand, before giving a keening laugh and playfully planting a kiss upon his bald forehead. Then she sashayed away, back to her partners, with the coin tightly clasped in her fist.

Kitty gawked, aghast. This was one of the unwholesome places her parents had warned her about. Enterprises of 'loose morals', as her mother had piously put it. Many was the time Mrs. Pryde had cautioned her daughter about the men who inhabited such places, as well as the sordid exploits of women who worked there.

The brown haired girl leaned close to Rogue and hissed at where she supposed her ear must be beneath her hood. "We're not going in *there* are we?"

Rogue said nothing. A swaying man with long bedraggled hair falling loosely about his face stumbled past them, smiling at Kitty in a most unbecoming manner before entering the pub. Kitty shuddered.

~ Like, no *way* am I going in that place! ~ she thought vehemently. ~ And if she tries to force me, I'll.... I'll.... ~

But this particular train of thought was never brought to fruition, because at that moment the older girl gave a quick shake of her head and started off again down the dark street, apparently having come to some kind of decision. Not sure whether to be relieved or disgruntled, Kitty followed meekly after her.

They turned a sharp left down a narrow alley that Kitty hadn't noticed before. It was dark and dank, and the noises from 'Das Rückenhaus' were abruptly cut off as they rounded the corner. Kitty shivered again. This place was, like, creepy. Yet she didn't dare voice her apprehension, lest Rogue deem her dispensable and either kill her or abandon her here.

Kill her.

The idle thought sharpened itself on her psyche, burning into her mind with menacing brevity. Rogue used to be an assassin. She probably wouldn't even think twice about bumping off a single peasant girl. Kitty was inconsequential in the great scheme of things, and an alleyway like this would be the perfect place to end a life unnoticed. Unease grew in Kitty's gut, manifesting itself into a block of ice buried in the pit of her stomach.

This cold block froze the rest of her insides as her perilous guide suddenly halted. Kitty very nearly bumped into her, but caught herself just in time. Rogue stood, still and silent. Not even the breeze ruffled her cloak in the confined passageway. She seemed more imposing and more dangerous than ever, and Kitty swallowed hard as the ice travelled up her throat to lodge in her gullet.

What was she doing? Was she going to kill her now? It seemed the most likely action, given her patent dislike of the young peasant. Kitty bunched her muscles, ready for flight.

Yet, despite all her certainties that Rogue was about to attempt murder, nothing happened for several minutes. That is, until the ex-assassin's drawling voice slithered over her shoulder in a penetrating sneer.

"You gonna stand there all night, or are you gonna go in?"

In? What did she mean, 'in'? Kitty glanced about her, puzzled, and abruptly saw to what Rogue was referring.

A small tavern, half hidden by shadows and nearly as quiet as the grave, stood away to their left, embedded between two dilapidated giants. Above its door, swinging lazily despite the lack of wind, hung a wooden sign that read 'The Copper Cow'. Kitty blinked to make sure she wasn't imagining it.

"Over there? But that place is, like, deserted."

"No it ain't," Rogue corrected. "It's just a little.... selective about its customers is all."

Kitty paused for several more seconds, not sure whether to believe what she was hearing. Rogue evidently had been here before, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing - at least, not in Kitty's book. A few more seconds passed, upon which Rogue ostensibly ran out of patience and shoved Kitty in the back, forcibly propelling her towards the dwarfed building.

They entered in a flurry of skirts and cloak, as Kitty tried to keep away from Rogue's prodding fingers by walking backwards, whilst simultaneously loath to enter the construction. A harsh croaky voice behind her made her jump, and she gave a squeak before diving behind Rogue in a blatant show of cowardice.

"Kin ah help ye, Miss?"

Kitty peered round Rogue, conscious of her own demonstration of non-bravery. The older girl stepped forward towards the innkeeper leaning over his counter, not cowed, and stated in confident tones:

"I need food. Quickly. And lots of it."

"Anythin' be takin' ye're fancy in particular, Miss?" the portly man inquired, shooting an inquiring look at Kurt and raising one bushy red eyebrow. The elf was by no means the most unusual looking customer he'd ever seen, but he was certainly one who'd arrived in the most unusual of fashions.

Rogue adjusted her burden, smacking Kurt's head against her armour, but remaining essentially unconcerned for his welfare as her passenger. "Whatever I can get the most of for the least money."

"Ah," the innkeeper nodded. "Ye be wantin' bread an' drippin' then. Jes' sit yeselves down over yonder an' ah'll ask fer some fer ye. Will ye be wantin' anythin' to drink at all?"

"Yep," Rogue affirmed. "Two cups of your best brew. Ah.... better make it three." She cast a glance over her shoulder to where Kitty still stood.

"As ye wish, Miss," the generously proportioned man replied, and then disappeared through a swinging door behind him.

The tavern was small and cramped, consisting of one room filled with several tables packed closely together. The air was heavy with the smell of stale drink and old smoke, and here and there were dotted people, huddled over their glasses and unwilling to look anyone in the eye. The trio crossed the area to a table rammed into the corner, where Rogue finally unloaded her semi-conscious burden onto a chair.

Kurt sat, immobile, and then suddenly toppled forward. Rogue's arm jutted out to catch him, and she wrenched his thin body back into an upright position before sitting down herself across from him. Kitty slid into place next to the furry boy, propping him up with one of her own frail arms. His golden eyes flickered open for a moment, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a grin as he whispered drowsily:

"Ich wußte, daß Sie konnten nicht mir widerstehen."

"He's delirious," Rogue stated from where she sat, sprawled across two chairs in the nonchalant manner of a lazy cat, yet with an alertness that betrayed her readiness to spring into action at any given moment.

"I wouldn't know," Kitty answered innocently. "I can't, like, speak Germanic."

A snort escaped Rogue's nostrils. Kitty looked perplexed. What was so funny? However, her musings were quickly forgotten as Kurt lurched forward again and she was forced to catch him before he smacked into the table.

The tabletop was thick with grime and old dirt, testament to the many guests who'd used it before. A cloud of nebulous grey smoke clouded the air - most of which could be attributed to one man sitting in the centre of the small room, puffing stoically away at a large pipe.

Rogue clandestinely cast her gaze around the enclosed room. This was one of her 'safe-spots'. The understated havens she used in virtually every city she'd ever been to, where few would be able to find her. True it was dingy and not exactly high class, but it served edible food at good prices - a commendable feat in Cheapside. Also, it provided her with a clear view of everything that went on around her without having to leave her seat. Strategically speaking, this was invaluable.

After a short while, the innkeeper returned, bringing with him a large bowl of some unidentifiable brown slop, accompanied by a slab of white bread and three wooden beakers balanced precariously on a tray.

Rogue made no move to help him with his cargo, instead watching him through narrowed eyes, and Kitty had her hands full trying to keep Kurt upright and conscious long enough to feed him.

The innkeeper set down the bowl, laying the bread unceremoniously on the bare tabletop beside it. He placed the beakers down also, before turning to Rogue and stretching out one podgy hand palm up for payment. Sighing Rogue went into her purse - beneath her cloak, so as not to reveal to the world where she kept her money - and passed him the required amount. He bit one coin in that suspicious way that innkeepers do, before nodding and returning to his desk at the entrance once more.

As he left, he shot a long sideways glance at the bizarre party. His pond-green eyes, enfolded in flab, danced upon them with an astuteness unsuited to his stout frame, appraising the three unusual customers with shrewd glee. The two females were too busy with the furry one - who'd chosen that moment to flop facedown into the bowl of dripping - to notice his interested gaze.

However, it didn't go completely unobserved. A certain pair of dark, unfathomable eyes noted his action with a harsh shrewdness of their own.

Kitty pulled Kurt out of the congealed fat with a faint 'schlock'. His head fell back limply, as if attached to his neck only by fine thread. His mouth was open, and a small amount of the greasy brown substance was smeared around his bottom lip. The brown-haired girl glanced at her companion.

"Well, what do I do now?"

"Use your initiative, shrimp," Rogue answered, shaking off a piece of fat that had splattered onto her hand when Kurt's face hit the brown mass. "He needs it *inside* him if it's gonna do any good."

Kitty looked into the bowl. "Urgh, is this stuff even, like, edible? What *is* it?"

"Dripping," Rogue replied. "Clotted animal fat mixed with flour. You dip the bread into it and it gets absorbed. Very nourishing."

"Urgh!" Kitty groused again. "You sure? Looks more like mud mixed with grease to me."

"Just feed him."

The smaller girl grimaced, then reached into the bowl. She scooped out a finger of the brown slop and brought it hesitantly to Kurt's mouth.

His breathing was discordant, and a bead of sweat dribbled through the fur at his temple. He looked so pathetic and helpless. Finding a new resolve at this pitiable sight, Kitty raised the loaded finger and gently pushed it past his lips to scrape it off against his sharp teeth.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then slowly, his throat spasmed, as if choking, except without any coughing. Kitty smiled wanly, taking another finger of the dripping and feeding it to him the same way. It too melted within his gullet, sliding easily into his belly like liquid.

Rogue watched with feigned interest. With languid grace she reached out and hooked her own fingers around the handle to her beaker and raised the local brew to her mouth. It was warm and sweet on her tongue, with a sharp tang that reminded her of the musky spices used in cooking in the Far Eastern lands. She drank deeply, closing her eyes to let the tangy liquor wash over her palate and sweep down her throat.

The beaker was half empty when she came up for air. She'd forgotten how good the drink was at this place. One of the best she'd found on her travels. As she recalled, she hadn't been the one who found 'The Copper Cow' at all. Rather, her old mentor, who knew all the best haunts for a pint in every realm, had introduced her to it. She recalled his face upon finding a less than average bar and consuming its less than average tipple.

"Ach! Donkey piddle in a cup! You'll never find anything to compare with The Copper Cow's brew, girl. Silk in a beaker, that's what that stuff is. Better than ambrosia, I'd wager."

"Silk in a beaker," she repeated the memory softly.

"What did you say?"

Rogue looked up at where Kitty had paused, another globule of slimy material coagulating on her finger. Next to her, Kurt's eyes flickered open as his strength began to miraculously return. His high metabolism allowed him a speedy recovery, and he weakly croaked "more" at his feeder, although with none of his usual verve.

"Nothing. You might wanna try him with some of the bread now. Dip it in and let it soak for a moment, then feed it to him."

Kitty nodded, complying dutifully with what she was told. Rogue settled back in her chair, toying with her cup between her hands and watching the younger pair.

They were so young. So innocent. Not for the first time she wondered why the elf had chosen to travel with her. The shrimp was easy enough to figure out. After the loss of her home, she'd simply locked onto the nearest sympathetic person - Kurt. But the elf was a different matter.

Rogue stared at him as he sat, grease snagged in his fur. Why would a seer's son choose to travel with an outcast assassin like her? Especially when he knew who she was beforehand. Rogue recalled the looks he'd given her as they travelled. He'd thought she hadn't noticed, but it was hard to get anything past her. There was something in his gaze she hadn't seen for a long time. Concern, like he knew something about her that she didn't. And pity.

Hate, pain, malice, all these things she knew, and knew well. But pity? Nobody pitied an assassin. Nobody felt sympathy for the silent bringer of death who clung to shadows and delivered judgement on the end of a blade.

Was that why she'd saved him?

The question bored into her brain. Was that why she'd spared his life, and even gone so far as to rescue and care for him when he was sick? It had been so long since anyone had shown her anything except hate and fear, and for a long time that was all she'd ever wanted. She'd wanted people to fear her. To see the terror in her victim's eyes when they realised who she was, it was like a drug. Potent and sweet. But now....

Now she'd lost that life, and everything that went with it. The hunger for blood. The adrenaline of the chase and pounce. The beauty of a blade, stained with red, shining its triumph like a crimson beacon.

Where was that glory now? Where was the enjoyment of the chase? Of the kill? There was something akin to a hollow inside her. An inexorable void, created the moment she fled the Guild, and growing ever since.

Was that the reason for her weakness? Compassion? Was that what this emptiness inside her craved? Rogue didn't know. She didn't know anything any more. Nothing except the feeling of constant flight. Of always looking over her shoulder, watching in case They were there, following her. Hunting her. As the fox stalked its rabbit prey, waiting to pounce. They were close, and she knew it. She'd taken an incredible risk pausing in the city. It would have been better just to move on. Skirt round Zanninsa and keep going until....

Until what? Until you find Him? Her almost-conscience sneered at her as she'd sneered at Kitty. Rogue pushed it away, unwilling to confront what it said. Unwilling to face the painful memories attached to that one thought.

Yet it pervaded her mind, forcing its query into view though she tried in vain to keep it away from her. An image floated across her mind's-eye. A face. Had she been a weaker person she may have cried at the memories it invoked, but Rogue was made of sterner stuff than that, and cogently compelled herself to ignore the image. To focus on something else instead. Something in the real world, away from her mental torment.

Rogue gazed lazily about the room, tracing the outline of chairs and tables through the smoky haze. Nothing struck her in particular, but it was good to focus on something else. Something more.... tangible.

Suddenly, something caught her eye. A lone figure, sitting at a table across the room. He wore a long tattered cloak, frayed at the edges and stained with dirt and grime. By his physique she could easily tell that it was a man. He sat hunched over his brimming mug, and his hood was pulled up hiding his face in shadow. She couldn't see his eyes, but somehow she knew that he was looking straight at them. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled - a sure sign of danger.

Suddenly this place didn't seem so safe any more.

Rogue's muscles tensed of their own accord. She trusted her instincts, as all good assassins did, and right now they were warning her of danger nearby. The lone figure was watching them too intently to be just another interested passer-by. There was purpose to his gaze, and she didn't trust it.

"Hey, shrimp," she hissed out of the side of her mouth. Kitty looked up, a piece of fat-coated bread between her fingers.

"What?"

"Shhh! Not so loud!" Rogue made an effort to remain nonchalant. ~No point in warning whomever it is that I'm onto him,~ she thought grimly. ~Not until I figure out what he's up to, anyway.~

"What?" Kitty said again, lowering her voice.

"See that guy over there? He's watching us."

"So?"

"I don't trust him."

Kitty stole a glance at the figure. It was true, he did look suspicious. But then, no more than Rogue did herself. Beside her, Kurt stirred, golden eyes flickering open.

"Was ist los?" he croaked feebly.

"Huh?" was Kitty's unintelligent answer. The furry boy looked at her, then blinked as he remembered her lack of Germanic tongue.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh. Some guy over there's, like, looking at us, and Rogue's going all, like, protective on us."

"Rogue? Protective?" Kurt's gaze slid over to the other girl, whose dark eyes blazed beneath her hood.

"Listen here, shrimp! I am *not*, I repeat, *not* being protective about you two. I just thought an extra set of eyes might be useful for watching him. Obviously I was wrong."

"Like, whatever," Kitty interjected. "Here Kurt, take a bite," she shoved the bread into his mouth. Kurt chewed and swallowed, anxious to retrieve his dwindling strength as quickly as possible. Unlike Kitty, he knew to trust Rogue's instincts, and didn't want to be caught flagging if danger arose.

Rogue took another casual swig of her beaker. "Drink up," she ordered tersely. "We're moving out."

"Moving out? But Kurt - " Kitty protested.

"Nein, nein, we must do as she says," Kurt wheezed with obvious effort. "I'll be fine, honestly. I feel better already."

"Be that as it may, finish your food and drink first. I don't want you collapsing on me again, elf," Rogue commanded in a tone that sanctioned no argument.

Kurt reached out with trembling hands and picked up his cup. He lifted it to his lips, slopping generous amounts down his chin, but accepting no help from Kitty when she offered it. He had to prove to her that he was capable of administering to himself if they were going to move on. Kitty fell back, a little hurt at the rejection.

A short while later, with cups drained and bowl scraped clean, the three youngsters rose to their feet. Kurt swayed a bit, but he was visibly brightening with every passing second.

~Figures,~ Rogue thought icily. ~The only way to please a man is to fill his stomach. Why should a fuzzy blue elf be any different?~

With forced casualness they made their way to the door, past the innkeeper's desk. He was there, talking with a lanky redheaded youth - presumably his son. The family resemblance was blatantly evident, despite the fact that the young man's features were sharp and angular where his father's were buried in flab.

The innkeeper looked up as they passed, face creasing into a beam. Kitty grinned innocently back at him, and even Kurt managed a drawn smile. But Rogue stalked past, not even acknowledging his presence. The younger pair gave the innkeeper a shared apologetic glance, before following her out into the night.

Rogue paced ahead of them, silent and swift, cloak billowing out behind her. They had to hurry to keep up, though Kurt was sure she was going a little slower than usual. Was that because of him? Was Rogue actually being considerate?

Do pigs fly?

Rogue abruptly sped up, virtually streaking away from them down the alley. She turned a sharp left, past a mound of soiled refuse and down another passage. Kurt urged his limbs onwards as fast as he could, feeling the strength return to them as the muscles rhythmically stretched and contracted. Still, it was a struggle to keep up. Especially as the ex-assassin kept zigzagging this way and that in a most confusing manner through the veritable warren that made up the back streets of Cheapside.

Kitty hurried along at Kurt's side. She felt annoyed at Rogue's insensitive behaviour, and half considered calling out to her, before remembering where they were and silencing herself in the name of self-safety. They turned right, then left, then right again. This continued for several more minutes, until both adolescents were utterly lost and could only pray that at least Rogue knew where she was.

Rogue knew where she was alright. She was just banking on their pursuer not knowing the same information. The shrimp and the elf hadn't realised yet that they were being followed, but Rogue had. It was hard to get anything past her. Even the soft tapping of quiet footsteps didn't go unnoticed to her ears - though she had to admit, she was surprised that the elf, with his heightened senses, hadn't become conscious of them too. Probably too busy keeping up with her to notice. But she couldn't slow down. She couldn't. Not unless they wanted to get caught by whomever it was trailing them.

They carried on this way for several minutes. The sky turned a lighter shade of blue as the trio hastily meandered through the narrow alleyways. Morning was approaching, and the city would begin to awaken soon.

~Not good. Not good at all,~ Rogue thought. ~Can't have people around if we wanna make a quick getaway. Too many witnesses.~

The pursuer was still tailing them. Evidently, he or she knew Cheapside as well as she did. Damn! She'd been counting on losing them in the warren of passages.

Kurt's blue ears pricked up as he at last became aware of their chaser. He leaned over and whispered something into Kitty's ear. Her blue eyes widened, but she nodded at him and picked up her pace. A tense silence surrounded them, punctured only by the sound of their footfalls and Kurt's still-harsh breathing.

They were in a particularly dingy, particularly narrow alleyway when it happened. The walls here were so close together that they were forced to walk in single file, and even then their shoulders brushed the brickwork. It was little more than a slight space between two long-since-abandoned constructions, but it served its purpose. The noise of their pursuer faded a little, as if further away. Kurt dared to hope they were losing him or her.

All of a sudden, with no warning, Rogue disappeared. She didn't even have time to cry out - not that she would have done. One moment she was speeding through the slender space at a rate of knots, the next, burly arms had jutted as if from nowhere, roughly grabbing her shoulders and wrenching her into the wall itself.

No, no into the wall, but through it. An opening of some kind. Like a doorway sans the door. She struggled, but her own arms were pinned to her sides. Iron hands gripped them like twin vices. Whoever this person was, they were strong. Very strong.

Her right arm was released. Bad move for them. That was her favoured blade-arm. She *could* use both at a push, but was most dexterous with the right.

Hoever, before she could whip out her sword in defence, something 'pinged' at the back of her neck. Adept fingers tweaked at a nerve, essentially paralysing her. A painful blackness exploded inside her skull. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak even, but if she had been able to, only one word rested on her lips as she slumped to the ground in a helpless heap.

~Yept!~

Kurt and Kitty didn't know what was happening at first. The narrow alley constricted their view considerably, and they believed Rogue had simply turned down another passage as she'd been doing for the past half-an-hour. Unquestioningly, they followed her, Kurt leading and Kitty bringing up the rear.

It was only when brawny arms grabbed them and hauled them through an erstwhile unnoticed entrance into one of the dilapidated buildings that they realised their mistake. Kitty made to scream, but found herself paralysed with fear. Yet this wasn't the terror that had struck her when faced with death at the end of Rogue's sword, but an inexplicable and primordial fear of the unknown. Such fear as has permeated the hearts of men since time immemorial.

Despite the difference in race, Kurt felt it too. His throat constricted inadvertently, and the only sound he could manage was a choked rasp that clogged in his gullet.

The grip on their arms tightened, and a low, husky voice growled from the darkness inside the building, "Quiet!"

They complied, more from terror than actual obedience. Everything froze, and a deathly hush descended upon the scene. The minute dust particles suspended in the air itself seemed to freeze, as did the breath in their lungs. Nothing moved.

But no, not quite nothing. A soft tapping of footsteps echoed down the alleyway outside, getting closer by the second. A figure flashed past the concealed entrance - which one couldn't see unless one knew exactly what to look for in the shadows. There was a burst of ginger, coupled with pale, angular features set in an ugly frown.

Then the apparition was gone. Continued down the passage in the direction it believed its prey to have taken. The footsteps died away, and only when they'd completely disappeared did the captives release the communal pocket of air burning their lungs.

The owner of the burly arms pulled Kurt and Kitty further into the room. Kurt stumbled, falling over his own feet. Somehow his tail got in the way of their subjugator, and was abruptly stepped on. Unable to hold it in, the furry boy yelped in pain. His tail was incredibly sensitive at the best of times, but to have a fully-grown person stand on it was excruciating, and cancelled out any fear-induced voice-paralysis.

The burly figure grunted, shaking Kurt until his teeth rattled in his skull to silence him. Kitty whimpered, a small sound, utterly pathetic given the weightiness of the situation. Her whining earned her a short shake, and they were dragged even further into the room.

~We're gonna die!~ the brown haired girl thought uselessly. ~We're gonna be murdered in this place. Throats cut.... or worse. Oh gods! Help us!~

But her silent plea went unheeded it seemed, and she closed her eyes as their captor paused, awaiting the final blow she felt sure was to come. He *had* to kill them. Why else had he brought them in here?

The thought spawned a multitude of other lurid images, each more grisly than the last, and each one fanning the flames of fear sparking in her chest.

But the finishing blow didn't come.

Slowly, Kitty eased one eye open. A gleam of metal immediately caught her attention. It hovered in her peripheral vision, and she turned slightly to see a sword pointing directly at the burly figure's throat. It glinted maliciously in the pallid light that filtered through a ragged hole high in the wall of the building, and Kitty traced the blade with her gaze, coming to rest on where Rogue stood, one hand clasped to the back of her neck, the other clutching her sword so tight her knuckles were white. Watery moonlight illuminated her face. Her hood had fallen back, revealing a mask of pure fury.

It was unusual to see Rogue show any visible signs of emotion, and somehow it chilled the younger girl down to her very bones to see it. She seemed almost demonic, with the weak light creating eerie pits and hollows across the pasty canvass of her skin.

"Put. Them. Down." she snarled.

The muscular figure did nothing, as if gauging how far the adolescent girl was prepared to go. Rogue helped his decision along with a marginal thrust of her blade. Not enough to pierce his flesh, but enough to bring her dangerously close. Kurt and Kitty were abruptly dumped on the floor. They scrabbled away on their behinds, anxious to remove themselves from the presence of their attacker as soon as possible. When they were a considerable distance across the room they stopped, Kurt clutching his injured tail and stroking it like it was a frightened child.

The hooded figure, face indistinguishable in the darkness, remained motionless. Rogue rubbed the back of her neck, the only indication that she'd been harmed. Considering the intention of the hurt it was a miracle she'd managed to stand up, let alone threaten anyone with her sword. Especially not someone considerably taller and bulkier than herself.

She glared at the figure, momentarily forgetting her raining and letting her emotions show. "Who are you?"

No answer.

"I asked you a question. Who are you?"

Still nothing. She might as well have been speaking to a statue. Rogue frowned, deepening the furrows already etching her face.

~Don't wanna kill him. At least, not yet anyway. Not until I find out what he's after,~ she thought.

What if he's just some mugger? Pointed out her almost-conscience.

~Then I'll help the crime rate in this here city,~ she replied. ~One less petty crook ain't gonna make much of a difference. I gotta make sure first, though. He might be working for Them. In which case, I can't afford to let him live.~

So you're going to kill him either way, the almost-conscience stated. More killing. More death.

Rogue thrust the voice away. ~Shut up!~

"Take off your hood," she ordered. The figure before her made no move to comply. "Take it off, or I'll take your head off with it," she growled, her acutely short patience wearing thin.

At last the individual moved. Slowly - so slowly it was almost painful - the arms raised and thick-fingered hands curled around the edge of the cowl. The fabric rustled slightly as it was removed, and a short gasp sliced the tense air as the face beneath was revealed.

Rogue's dark eyes grew round, whites dwarfing the irises until they were no more than pinpricks of colour. The gasp caught in her throat, gagging her until she could only choke out a single, raspy word. The same word that had followed her around for so long, hovering above her neck like a noose just waiting to tighten. For months she'd wanted to say it, knowing that she never could unless speaking of a memory. Yet now the time had finally come when she *could*, and it stuck in her gullet.

"Logan?"

It couldn't be.

It was impossible.

But it was true.

Logan stood before her, plain as day, his face illuminated by the poor moonlight.

Her blade wobbled. She'd been about to kill him. Take his head off. Logan. Had she been of weaker stuff she may have felt nauseous. As it was, she gawked at the man, disbelief written bluntly across her face.

Kurt and Kitty watched in amazement. They'd never seen Rogue like this before. She was.... well, she was Rogue. *The* Rogue. Fearless and brutal. Yet the sight of their attacker's face was enough to reduce her to a gaping fool with an expression akin to the village idiot plastered onto her features. Somehow this was even more frightening then her casually cruel indifference.

"Logan?" Rogue whispered, barely audible.

Kurt sat, rubbing his tail. There was that name again. Somehow, Rogue seemed to know the man. The furry boy's golden eyes appraised him swiftly. Folds of swarthy material similar to Rogue's shrouded most of his body, but what could be seen was muscular and sturdy. Definitely not someone to pick a fight with. His facial features were rangy and stern, with several weeks worth of stubble gracing his square jaw. His hair was unruly and dark - though it was difficult to tell the exact colour in the bad light - and his eyes were a harsh grey, with the same ruthless intensity about them as the ex-assassin's. The eyes of a killer.

He'd said nothing in response to Rogue's gawping. Just stood there, staring at her, expression inscrutable. Hadn't even looked at the other two.

Then he spoke. His voice was gruff. Harsh. His tone hardened.

"Put the sword down."

Rogue nearly dropped her weapon. That voice had haunted her dreams for months. He sounded exactly the same as he had before...

"I said, put it down."

Rogue did as she was told - much to the surprise of Kitty and Kurt. Rogue taking orders? What was going on here?

Rogue swallowed. "Logan? I thought you were.... I thought you were dead."

One eyebrow arched at her. "Me? Dead? Be serious. You know me better than that, kid."

"I.... I guess...." she trailed off, lost for words. She'd never been much of a conversationalist. 'Actions speak louder' was her motto, especially if said actions were the violent kind. But now....

She cursed her tongue, wishing she could ask one of the hundred questions whirling in her brain, but at the same time unwilling to say a word lest she suddenly wake up and realise this was all a dream. It had happened before. She'd think everything was back to normal. Logan was alive and well, she was still with the Guild under her old name, and He was there. Him. The one who'd caused her more pain and hurt than anyone else in all of Earth-Realm....

Then she'd awaken, covered in icy sweat and forced to face the world as it was. Cold. Alone. And without Logan or Him....

"Kid?" Logan's voice snapped her from her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Who are those two?"

Rogue looked to where he gestured. To the huddled pair in the corner, staring at them through wary eyes.

"Nobody important. Innocents."

The eyebrow quirked at her again, interested. "Friends of yours?"

"No!" Rogue replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Then you want me to get rid of 'em?"

The pair in the shadows huddled closer together, for all the good it would do them, and Kitty suppressed a squeak. Rogue sighed.

"No. They're with me. Not friends, but with me."

The eyebrow stayed aloft, indicating Logan's surprise and interest, but he said nothing more on the subject, instead beginning another, completely different sentence.

"You oughta be more careful. That guy with the red hair was tracking you."

Rogue nodded. She'd recognised the innkeeper's son. "I was careless. It won't happen again." Gods, it was just like when she was growing up. Constantly apologising for getting things wrong, then practising until she practically dropped dead to be good enough for his standards. Clinging to the sparse praise thrown her way, and feeling his sharp words more severely than any beating could ever hurt her.

"It'd better not. Next time I might not be around to rescue your ass from the fire."

"Logan," she raised her eyes, but couldn't bring herself to meet his stolid gaze. "How.... Why are you here."

"Hidin' out," he answered shortly. "I ain't exactly flavour of the month with the Guild at the moment. Especially since they think I'm dead an' all. Real question is, why're you here? And with these two as well. Shouldn't you be on a mission or somethin'?"

"I...." Rogue looked suddenly shameful, "Logan, I.... I'm not part of.... You see.... Something happened, and...." she verbally stumbled, starting a sentence, then switching to another, leaving numerous explanations hanging unfinished in the air. Finally she stopped, took a deep breath and blurted out: "Logan, I'm a Rogue now."

He nodded, seemingly unfazed by her scandalous confession. "Thought so. There were rumours, but I was never sure. I shoulda guessed, really, when I saw you at the bar with those two." He jerked his thumb at Kitty and Kurt.

Something clicked in Rogue's mind. "That was you? Watching us?" He nodded. "But why?"

"I figured you'd come here at some point. Been waitin' for you for some time. Couldn't move very far on account o' bein' spotted, but I knew you'd turn up eventually. You're too predictable, kid. That's a major fault. You're being tracked I take it?" Now it was her turn to nod. "Then they'll probably know you'd come here too."

A burst of familiar resentment fired up inside Rogue. Even when 'resurrected' Logan still acted like she was child. Still pointed out her faults with needle-like precision. She'd been on almost as many missions as him now, she knew when she was doing something wrong, yet he still insisted on making her shortcomings known to the world. Still treated her like she was some novice in the training area of headquarters. It had been years since she ceased her schooling with him, but he refused to let go of his role as her mentor.

"Then we'll have to move out," she replied.

"Nuh-uh. Not that easy I'm afraid," Logan shook his head soberly.

Rogue was puzzled. "What's the big deal? We came in through the Eastern Gate; we can leave through the Western Gate. Bribe the Gatekeeper; be off before anyone notices us. Simple."

Again, Logan shook his head. "I'm afraid you're already noticed, kid."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Did you ever stop to wonder why that ginger guy from the bar was following you?" Rogue said nothing, unwilling to admit that she had not. Logan sighed the sigh of someone dealing with a small infant of limited intelligence.

Inadvertently, Rogue's blood boiled. She'd worried about him. She'd regretted everything that happened and lost sleep over him when she thought he was dead. And this was all the thanks she got? Being treated like an idiot?

Logan fumbled for something beneath his cloak. He was still wearing the same one-shoulder knapsack he'd always worn, she noticed. Another stab of the familiar to warp her world a little more.

Kurt and Kitty watched the proceedings in silence. The entire conversation so far had been conducted in Common, but even so, they comprehended little of what was going on. Rogue knew this man, Logan, somehow - it had something to do with the Guild of Assassins, from what they could understand. Their discourse had an air of parent/child relationship, though it was just as savage as all conversations with Rogue. If possible, Logan was even terser than she was, and the on-looking pair sat motionless, trying not to attract any undue attention from either of the fierce duo.

Logan extricated what he was looking for from his bag and held it up into the pale light.

"*This* is what I mean."

It was a scrap of paper, probably printed on one of those new fangled printing presses by the looks of it. On it were a few lines of scrawly text accompanied by a sketchy picture. Kurt strained his odd eyes to see what it depicted, and gave short intake of breath when he did.

"It's her. Rogue. Dass ist her picture."

Logan's steely gaze shifted over to them for a moment, before swivelling back to Rogue. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a poster."

"Wrong. It's a *wanted* poster. Of you. They're all over this city, and probably other places have them too. They went up today. Probably the news arrived through a Seeing Portal or some such malarkey. That'd explain how it got here so fast, considering. There's a*big* price riding on your head, kid, and everybody knows about it. It's not just the Guild who're after you now. Everyone's gonna want a piece of the famous Rogue of The Assassins."

Rogue blinked, puzzled. "But.... why?" She could understand why the Guild wanted her dead. She was the only one with the audacity to defy the laws that governed their ancient association, and thus was a danger to their social structure. They couldn't have an ex-assassin running around. There were too many carefully guarded secrets she might spill for them to allow her to live outside their jurisdiction. But a bounty on her head? That wasn't the Guild's style at all.

Logan sighed that infuriating sigh again. "You're wanted for the murder of a seer near the village of Padra. The body was found by one of her clients earlier today. Some people from the nearby village gave a description of you going up there beforehand. They said you had weapons and were acting suspiciously, and the authorities put two an two together."

A strangled cry burst from the shadows. Both man and girl immediately spun round to see the cause of it, hands flying to their respective weapons with practised ease - although Rogue was perhaps marginally quicker than her former tutor.

The cry had come from Kurt, who now clutched at Kitty's arm, golden eyes wide and staring at Logan in horror. His mouth opened and shut intermittently like a fish, and he weakly croaked out, "Padra? Did you say Padra?"

Logan glanced at Rogue, and she nodded for him to reply; that it was safe for him to talk to the elf.

"Yeah," Logan asserted, warily. "What of it?"

Kurt's grip of Kitty's arm tightened, and she squirmed slightly, but didn't protest. Something was wrong. Something terrible.

"The name...." he murmured. "What was the seer's name?"

Logan thought for a moment. "I don't know for sure - " he began.

"Please!" Kurt sounded desperate, and there was a distraught look in his eyes.

Logan saw it, and searched his memory for what he'd overheard in the bar between the two men who had been discussing their luck at going after the highly-priced game. A name surfaced in his mind. It sounded stupid, but maybe it was what the weird looking furry kid was after.

"I think.... it was something showy. Like a performer's name. Music? Mystic? Something like that."

The unhappy cry came again, louder this time. Like the keening wail of a wolf, but with twice the agonised sorrow embed in its haunting tone.

"Mystique. Her name was Mystique."

"Yeah, that was it," Logan agreed. Kurt emitted another piercing moan. "What's wrong with him?" The older man asked of his old pupil.

"She was my mother!" Kurt wept, tears leaking from his eyes and running through his dusty cerulean fur. "Meine Mutter! She was my mother!"

Kitty stroked his arm gently, attempting - unsuccessfully - to soothe him with her voice. "Shhh, it's OK, Kurt. It's alright."

"No it's not!" Kurt spat vehemently. "There must be some mistake. It has to be a mistake. She can't be dead. I was talking to her just after you left, Rogue. She was fine then. She was happy. She can't just be dead!"

"No mistake, elf," Logan answered callously, disregarding the boy's patent distress at the news. "You got the proof right here." He held up the wanted poster with its telltale scrawl. Kurt's head jerked up, eyes flashing.

"Then I'll destroy the proof!"

In a single bound he was across the room, and had snatched the paper from Logan's hand. He then sprang effortlessly into the rafters of the building and proceeded to shred it into a multitude of miniscule pieces that fell like transmuted snow around them. A strange, high-pitched laugh escaped his lips. "No more proof. All gone. Everything's better now. It never happened."

"Kurt," Kitty called up after him. "Kurt, come down. Please."

"It never happened," Kurt repeated with a distinctly unstable edge to his voice. "She's not dead. She's waiting for me to come home. She'll be so pleased when I go home and tell her about all my adventures. It was her who told me to travel with Rogue, you know. Oh yes, she'll want to know all about it. She doesn't get out much. Not even to go further into the forest, just stays at home and waits for me to come and tell her what I've been doing. But she never minds. Not while I'm around to keep her informed." He continued blathering ramblingly, refusing to believe what he was hearing.

Logan frowned. He'd seen this before, many times. Shock at the sudden death of someone close did funny things to a person, and he'd even known bereaved individuals to take their own live in the throes of grief before now. The boy was exhibiting all the symptoms of shock, as well as denial. If they weren't careful, who knows what he might do. Rogue couldn't afford any undue attention right now.

"Hey, kid! Get your fuzzy ass down here pronto," he ordered gruffly.

Kurt took not the slightest bit of notice, instead carrying on cheerfully shredding the wanted poster and mumbling about how wonderful his mother was, and how she always listened to him, and how she'd wanted him to see the world, and all manner of other frivolous things besides.

"Kaju!" Logan muttered beneath his breath.

Kitty tried her luck again. "Kurt. Kurt, please. Please come down from there. It's not safe. I'm pretty sure those beams are rotten. It's dangerous, Kurt. Please come down. You're, like, scaring me."

"Look, I've made things better," Kurt stated gleefully, ignoring what she'd said and tossing a handful of the mutilated paper-pieces down onto their heads. "No more poster. No more proof. No more silly untruths about my mother."

"Fine. Now will you, like, come down?"

"Maybe," Kurt swung himself higher, making it quite clear that he intended to stay up there.

"Look, elf - " Logan started.

"Leave it," Rogue sighed wearily. "He'll come down when he's ready. In the meantime, we can't force him. We'd probably kill ourselves trying."

"But - " Kitty tried to protest. They couldn't just, like, leave him. What if he fell? What if he never came down? What if....

"Shrimp, I said no. Leave it," Rogue ordered in a warning voice.

Kitty pouted ever so slightly, and gave Kurt one last glance before resuming her place in the corner. She didn't feel safe standing amidst the two ex-assassins, no matter what she was told otherwise.

Kurt was too busy grooming his tail and spouting the virtues of his mother to pay her any heed. There was something weird about his voice. It was shrill and panicky. Not at all Kurt-like. Perhaps Rogue was right. Perhaps it was better to leave him to come down on his own.

Abruptly, Kitty shook her head as she realised just what she was doing.

~Did I just, like, agree with her?~

Rogue turned back to Logan. ~Time to change the subject,~ she thought. She was pretty shocked about seeing her face on a wanted poster too, but deemed it unwise to exhibit her own concerns if they wanted the elf down any time soon.

"Logan, why *are* you here?" she returned to the previous topic. Neutral ground for the fuzzball. No emotional attachments for him in this conversation.

"I told you, kid. I'm hidin'," Logan replied, a little annoyed at having to repeat himself.

Rogue stared levelly at him. "Y'all are lying," she stated, almost coldly.

For a moment he seemed lost for words, and turned aside his grey eyes, his lie discovered. Rogue continued to stare steadily at him.

Something in his averted gaze aroused a memory in the back of her mind. A niggling that had plagued her since his disappearance so many months ago. Death on a mission, she'd been told. Cut down in the line of duty. A noble death for an assassin. Yet something hadn't seemed right. There had been something going on at the time. Something political that Logan was heavily involved in. She hadn't taken much notice back then, being too caught up in her own affairs. That is, until the news of his death reached her. Shortly after that she'd been forced to flee the Guild completely, and all musings concerning this strange niggling had been buried beneath the basic need for survival as she was cast out into the world.

Now though, the niggling had returned with a vengeance, pushing and tugging at the fringes of her mind like some annoying insect. Forcing her to remember. To think back to the time when she left. Something important was being discussed then. Something that involved the fate of all assassins....

Abruptly it came it her, and her dark eyes widened as she realised at last what she should have known so long ago.

"Oh gods! They did it, didn't they? The crazy Pebehocks actually did it?"

Logan nodded gravely. Rogue could only snort in disgust. "I can't believe the Guild would be that *stupid*! To join with the Silver Sword, it's .... it's just plain ludicrous! Don't the council know what'll happen?"

"Oh, they know all right," Logan growled. "Trouble is, the council don't care. They don't mind being just puppet rulers, as long as they're financed and kept in comfort. Things were getting a little too hot for them. People weren't happy with they way the Guild was being run any more. There were uprisings. Riots. They could have stopped it themselves with a little time and effort, but they took the coward's way out. Let the Silver Sword's forces do their dirty work for them. As long as they're cared for and well fed they don't give a damn who governs the Guild. Fools that they are! I tried to tell them, tried to warn them, but they just wouldn't listen."

"So that's why you...." Rogue's voice petered out, her mind making yet another connection it should have made long ago. "They tried to kill you?"

"Uh-huh. Seems I was dangerous to their plans. Kept stirrin' people up, you see. I was one of the few who actually saw what the Silver Sword would do if he got his greedy hands around the Guild's throat, and the council didn't like that one bit. Kinda ironic really, an assassin bein' assassinated."

"But what.... how did you survive?"

Logan transferred his gaze back to her questioning face. "I can't believe you actually just asked me that."

Rogue looked away, embarrassed to have forgotten.

Logan was a Wolverinnen - an ancient race of beings, once covering the lands but now bordering extinction. Very few remained in the world, despite their uncanny knack of surviving almost anything and everything thrown their way.

In the pause that followed, an embarrassed cough sounded out. Female. Young. Both mentor and ex-student turned to look.

"Like, excuse for interrupting and all - I mean that too; this is, like, the most I've heard you talk since, like, forever, Rogue - but can I ask something? Like, what exactly is the Silver Sword? And what's so bad about it?"

Kitty's only reply was a disgusted look from Logan at her ignorance and audacity. Rogue had once again resumed her expression of cold indifference, though when she spoke her voice told otherwise. Kurt's voice floated down from somewhere overhead.

"Silver Sword. Pretty Sword. But not as pretty as meine Mutti."

Rogue blatantly ignored both of them, instead directing her next words at Logan and reverting to Gehín to keep their dialogue private. It had taken her so long to construct telling him what she was about to say, and she'd rehearsed it endless times in her head, even though she knew she'd probably never be able to actually tell him. She took a deep breath, drawing on her training to keep her voice steady.

"Logan, Ik.... Ohn.... Aeth Riubram nipkas mik du yochbat. Hu.... hu ik kudnt. Ik xanb. Ik nju okoro Yohnua, hu ik...."

"Xopomo," he held up a hand, silencing her. "Ik krij cyhtat aladel. Gadil uht ohn hikya?"

She nodded. "Ik xanb. Ik il danelb."

He shook his head, not unkindly. "Xopomo. You're a lot stronger then I gave you credit for, kid. In your mind *and* in your body. *Especially* your body. How'd you manage to get up from that neck-tweak earlier? That used to be enough to knock you out for at least a half hour."

"Like ya'll said, I'm a lot stronger now. I have to be."

Logan's expression hardened. "I'm sorry, kid. This is my fault."

"Nah, I'm the one who couldn't follow orders. Although I'll admit, if it happened over, I'd do it again in an instant." The ghost of a smile played across her dark lips. Logan wasn't so easily pacified.

"Still, I can at least help you get Them off your tail. The council's no doubt sent the best of their crop after you, so they definitely won't be very far away, I'm certain. You've managed to do all right avoiding Them so far."

"It hasn't been easy," Rogue shrugged, "The council's little hunting party are a very determined bunch. I almost bought it a coupla' times, but no biggie. I had the advantage. None of them were ever trained by you."

Rogue wasn't exactly a master of compliments, and her feeble attempt elicited a faint twitch from the corners of Logan's mouth. He may have actually smiled, had it not been for the piercing screech that suddenly split the air around them.

"You!"

A bolt of blue dropped from the ceiling, coming to rest between them, in front of Rogue, and landing with cat-like agility at her feet. "You!" Kurt spat again. His voice was harsh. Gone were the high-pitched denial and the cheerful easy banter alike. Twin pools of molten gold glared at her, filled with something she'd never seen in them before. More than anger, it wavered somewhere between hate and pain, tinged with a sadness beyond anything she could imagine. Well, almost anything....

His tail lashed, sending up a cloud of dust from the floor. He still hadn't arisen from where he'd landed in a crouch, feet and tridactyl hands tucked neatly under his body.

"It was you," his voice dropped to a low growl, rumbling deep in his throat like a snarling dog. He sounded dangerously inhuman. It was as if someone else was looking at her through his eyes. Staring out from beneath the folds of cerulean fur, using the characteristically friendly face as a mask. Twisting it. Distorting it until it was almost beyond recognition. Rogue blinked. The elf looked so.... different. Wild.

"What was me?" On instinct, her hand strayed to her sword beneath her cloak. The elf it may be, but something was wrong with him. Something that involved her, and she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what it was.

"It was *your* fault," he said slowly. "*Your* fault. I talked to her after you left, but you don't need to use your own hand to commit murder. It was still you. You killed her."

Without warning he sprang at the older girl, barrelling into her and nearly knocking her off her feet. But Rogue was ready for him. She hadn't survived so long with the Guild's best on her heels without learning a few survival tricks. Like sensing when someone was about to attack, and knowing how to stay standing when they struck. She shrugged off his advance, letting him fly over her back to twist neatly in the air and land behind her.

Logan took a step forward, but Kurt was attacking again. Faster than the eye could see he'd sprung at Rogue once more. She spun round to face him, only a few seconds too slow. He slammed into her chest, driving the breath from her lungs. An incongruous thought popped unannounced into her mind.

~Whoa! For a little guy, he sure can pack a wallop!~

She stumbled backwards, miraculously remaining upright. She could hear Kitty scrambling to her feet, calling out the elf's name, telling him to stop. But he didn't.

Ostensibly swifter then the wind itself, the furry boy had launched himself at the ex-assassin's side, driving at her full force, intending to floor her and pin her down. Rogue anticipated the move, spinning into it and turning it against him. Her shoulder connected with his, sending him spinning backwards with her superior force. He stumbled, a fatal mistake that Rogue took full advantage of.

Dropping into a combat squat, she swung her foot out, knocking his oddly shaped legs out from under him and sending his slender body crashing to the floor. A haze of dust flew up into the air on impact, covering everything with a fine mist of powder and blue fur.

Kurt was fast. Rogue was faster. Before he could even move she was crouched over him, sword blade pressed to his throat. He stared up at her, choler blazing in his face.

"Are you going to kill me now? Just like you killed my mother?"

"I didn't kill her," Rogue corrected softly, "Y'all said it yourself - she was still alive after I left. How could I kill her if I wasn't even there?"

"You were being followed," Kurt choked out, his voice catching slightly in his maw, "By assassins! Trained killers. You led them there, to our home. It's your fault. *Your* fault!"

Rogue sighed. "Yes, I was being followed. But I didn't know they'd go that far. I just thought they'd frighten you two a bit. I didn't know they'd kill her. It's not usually their style to leave bodies around for people to find."

Kurt gave a yelp at her words. A broken cry, shot through with misery and hurt. It rose into the air like a fluttering, injured bird, snaking into the ears of all assembled and cutting loudly through the atmosphere like a knife.

Rogue shushed him, conscious that he was far too loud given their current circumstances. She glanced up, half expecting someone to walk through the door-less doorway in response to the noise of their brief scuffle, despite knowing that they were in a virtually uninhabited part of Cheapside.

"She knew," Kurt gulped, all the anger vanishing from his face, to be replaced by pure, unadulterated wretchedness. "She knew," he said again.

"What?" Rogue gritted, considering putting a hand across his mouth to silence his piercing wailing. Her sword involuntarily pressed closer to the spot where his lifeblood pulsed and flowed, before she remembered herself and pulled it away again.

Unnoticed to her, Logan raised an eyebrow at the uncommonly merciful action.

Kurt's thin chest shuddered as a sob wracked his body. From one extreme to the other, he switched from the persona of a vengeful demon to a whimpering child. The pitiful sight tweaked at Kitty's heartstrings, and she said thickly:

"Let him up."

Logan stared incredulously at her. "Whaddaya mean, 'let him up'? He damn well tried to kill her a second ago. She should slit his gizzard and be done with it."

"No, Logan. She's right," Rogue murmured.

Now it was Kitty's turn to gape. ~Did she just, like, agree with me? Is she, like, sick or something?~

With a 'snikt' of metal, Rogue sheathed her blade in its scabbard at her waist and straightened up.

Kurt remained where he'd fallen, juddering sporadically as sob after sob sped through him. Rogue extended her hand, but he didn't take it. Tears appeared at the corners of his eyes and began running down the side of his head, mixing with the dust to become filthy rivulets in his fur.

"She knew! She knew!" he kept saying, over and over. "She knew, and she didn't tell me. She made me leave her. Oh gods, I left her all alone."

Rogue stepped back. She'd never been good at emotional outbursts, as her tactless words showed only too well, but she knew someone who was.

Sure enough, a small figure slipped forward and past her to kneel beside the elfin youth, stroking his cheek and crooning quietly at him. Kurt reached up and caught Kitty's wrist.

"She knew," he said again, voice breaking and tripping over the syllables.

"Knew?" Kitty repeated, wiping one dirty rivulet away with her own pallid hand.

Kurt nodded. "She knew they were coming. She was a seer; she had to know. And she sent me away, where I couldn't protect her."

"She must have really loved you to do that," Kitty whispered gently, some innate sense telling her exactly the right thing to say. "She wanted you to be safe."

"But I wasn't there to protect her. I'm her *son*. I'm meant to look out for her. She was my *mother*," Kurt wept, tightening his grip on the girl's wrist. "She must have stayed so they wouldn't follow me. She was trying to protect me. I should have been there for her. It's my fault too."

"No! It's not your fault, Kurt. If anyone's to blame, it's the Guild's hunting party. Not Rogue, and especially not you," the blue-eyed girl gave a wan smile. "Hey, it's alright to let it all out. I know what it's like to lose family, remember? It's OK, it's OK."

She prattled ceaselessly at him as he cried himself out. Every so often he let out a deafening moan that set both ex-assassins' nerves on edge and sent their eyes wandering nervously to the gaping doorway.

Rogue couldn't help herself. The sight was just too pitiable. She tried to fight it, but somehow she felt sorry for the fuzzy elf. He was annoying and incredibly irritating, but he didn't deserve this. He especially didn't deserve to find out about his own mother's death second-hand. Concurrently, she felt pity for him and disgust at herself. Strange feelings battled for supremacy in her psyche, and she was torn between their divergent voices.

He looks so pathetic.

You're weak, letting your emotions get the better of you.

He never did anything to harm anyone.

You should have killed him when you had the chance. The shrimp too.

He's in pain.

He's a liability.

What was wrong with her? She'd never had problems like this before. Everything had been clear-cut before. Black and white. You went on a mission, removed the target and went home to praise and food. Simple. But now the world was filled with various shades of grey, and nothing made sense anymore. How could she feel sorry for the elf when everything she'd even been taught went against doing so? Why had she spared his life yet again? He'd been in her power, laid low by his own rampant emotions. Proof that emotions were dangerous. They made you vulnerable. They made you weak. They made you easy prey.

So why was she suddenly feeling things she'd never felt before?

Pity.

Empathy.

Mercy.

These weren't her traits. These weren't the qualities of an assassin.

But you're not an assassin anymore, remember? Her almost-conscience gave her the mental equivalent of a slap across the face. You're an outcast. A Rogue. *The* Rogue.

~Does that mean I'm forgetting everything I was ever taught?~ she asked it, not really expecting an answer. How could one insignificant elf and his annoying ditzy little friend turn around sixteen years of harsh training and life experience?

Her question, like so many others, was to go unanswered. For at that moment she heard something that chilled the blood in her veins and caused her ears to strain in order to make sure she wasn't imagining it.

She wasn't.

Voices.

Advancing towards them, down the alley outside. Rogue froze as she recognised the son of the innkeeper's sharp tone from the brief snippet of conversation in 'The Copper Cow'. He wasn't alone either. Other voices crowded with his. Many voices, all sounding hostile.

They were coming towards them, fast. An animated muttering ran through the alien group, and she thought she could see the faint glow of rag-torches reflected off the wall opposite the entrance to their hideaway.

Logan was at her side in a flash, sword silently drawn. Kitty stared up at her, fear patently obvious in her sparkling blue eyes. Kurt still lay on the floor snivelling. Rogue motioned that Kitty should silence him quickly, before he gave their position away.

Too late. Apparently lost in the throes of his grief, the elf hadn't noticed the advancing voices - no doubt belonging to would-be bounty hunters the innkeeper's son had come across and recruited, searching for them in the warren of alleyways. Kurt opened his mouth, revealing sharp white fangs, and let out another shrill, keening wail. The voices outside picked up, excited. The sound acted as an aural signpost, and they headed towards it, any weapons they had at the ready.

Logan's muscles visibly tensed, as did Rogue's, and a single fervent utterance escaped his lips as he watched the doorway become steadily brighter from the echoed glow of approaching rag-torches.

"Yept! They found us!"

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

To Be Continued.......

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

TRANSLATIONS

*GERMANIC*
Es ist riesig. ~ It's huge.
Ich hatte keine Idee. ~ I had no idea.
Es tut mir leid. ~ I apologise.
Das Rückenhaus. ~ The back house.
Ich wußte, daß Sie konnten nicht mir widerstehen. ~ I knew that you couldn't resist me.
Was ist los? ~ What's wrong?
Meine Mutter/Mutti! ~ My Mother/Mummy!

*GEHíN*
Pebehock(s)! ~ Bastard(s)!
Ik krij cyhtat aladel. ~ It was my decision.
Xopomo. ~ S'alright.
Gadil uht ohn hikya? ~ How you been holding out?
Ik xanb. ~ I'm sorry.
Yept! ~ Shit!

A/N ~ Gehín is a colourful language, no? Though they seem to favour blue.