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 project, since I started work on this before I ever *saw* those movies. 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: Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed - Klutz, Yumiko, Quill of Molliemon, ezrajade, Emerald Lightning Goddess, UnknownSource, Arachnaphiliac, Lonley Poet, Cheesy Monkey, Morgannia, ChaosCat and AerinBrown - and a big extra thank you for hanging on until I pulled my socks up and posted something.
I'll keep the A/N short and sweet, because nobody wants to hear me babble, but I really must mention that the main impetus behind this monster being updated is a spiffy piece of artwork of Assassin Rogue done by Arachnaphiliac, which can be found at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?p=14344#14344 Concept sketches can be found at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?t=447 Go revel in her greatness. ^____^
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'Of Beast and Blade' By Scribbler
Chapter Fifteen ~ 'Revival By Proxy'
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'Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.' -- Aristotle.
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Underling Dukes looked up sharply at the sudden noise. His chins wobbled as he peered inquisitively at the source, piggish eyes widening when he realised exactly what it was. With footsteps that rivalled mini-earthquakes, he sped to the door of the Infirmary and called excitedly into the adjoining room.
"Initiate Ashari! Initiate Ashari! Come quick!"
The blonde Changeling appeared in the doorway, quill still in hand. Her hair was dishevelled, conspicuous black bags ringing her eyes and denoting several consecutive nights of insomnia and broken sleep. She yawned once, patting her mouth and leaving a splatter of ink on her cheek in the process.
"What is it, Fred? I was working on a new tonic I've created to ease joint-trouble."
"But Initiate Ashari," the oversized youth wrung his hands in agitation, "The Rogue, she - The *Rogue*!"
"What about her?" Teah snapped. She knew that Fred was prone to overreact at things, and was in no mood to be trifled with this morning. Another night of screaming had ensured she slept little, and her nerves were fast reaching breaking point.
Fred's next words, however, stunned her nearly into silence, and she stood for a moment, unable to do anything but stare up at his towering frame with her mouth open.
"Initiate Ashari, I think she's waking up." After a few seconds, he then added; "Um, are you OK, Initiate Ashari?"
"What? Yes, yes, fine." Teah waved him aside, and when he didn't take the hint, jostled brusquely past. "Quickly, go and fetch me the easement potion from shelf number four in the stockroom. It's in a blue conical flask and should be labelled as such. Hurry now. If she's coming to, we may need it."
"Yes ma'am!" Fred gave a sort-of salute and set off on his required task, thumping across the floor and through the door towards the Infirmary stockroom.
Teah turned back to the bed that lodged Rogue. As she swiftly crossed the room towards it, she threw a thought up into the air, ignoring for the moment how much she loathed mental communication.
_Jean? Jean, where are you?_
//I'm right here, Teah. In the library. There's no need to think so loud.//
_No time for pleasantries, Jean. You have to bring Kurt, Kitty and Ororo to the Infirmary right away._
Into Jean's psychic voice crept a suspicious edge. //Why? What's happened?// Her ability to show emotion in a soundless voice often amazed those she conversed with, but Teah was of no disposition to marvel at the girl's talents at present.
_It's not so much what *has* happened, as much as what's *going* to happen._
Jean sighed and tutted. //Fine, fine, I'll tell them. I think they're off somewhere with Jubilee again. Probably Underling Tabitha's tagging along too. But tell me first, Teah - what's going on?//
The healer reached her patient's bedside. _It's The Rogue. She's waking up at last._
*******************
Kurt shifted his foot-grip on the back of the chair and asked for the umpteenth time, "Any progress?"
"Not since the last time you asked me, five minutes ago, Kurt," Teah replied snappishly.
He winced. "Entschuldigung. I'm just a bit... on edge. I get fidgety when I'm nervous."
"We'd, like, noticed," Kitty chipped in, not unkindly, "it isn't gonna help, though, Kurt."
"I know, I know, but I can't stop it." His tail lashed nervously, and from where he balanced on the chair-back he resembled nothing so much as a pendulum clock, of the sort that adorned rich houses. If anyone had felt humorous, they might have laughed; but, as it was, the atmosphere permeating the room was tense and foreboding - not unlike the calm before a storm.
Kitty watched him reflectively. He'd been that way ever since they received the call from Jean that Rogue was showing signs of waking. That was several hours ago, now, and through the window out onto the courtyard the suns were already beginning to set. Night was fast approaching, and Rogue had yet to open her eyes.
Of course, it wasn't the first time Kitty had stayed in the Infirmary after sunset. Over the past six nights since they'd arrived she'd spent a total of one in the bed actually allotted to her, and even then she'd been carried there, presumably by Fred when Teah discovered her slumped in her chair, next to Rogue's bedside as always. In the daytime the healer was always bustling around, doing this and that, and wouldn't brook any prolonged visits with people 'messing up the place' and getting in her way. Yet at night it was easier to stick around without being told off. At night, Kitty could sit quietly, cleaning Rogue's armour without fear of someone walking in on her and hearing her talking to the unconscious girl. At night, Kitty gained a little privacy, and utilized it to the fullest.
Rogue's armour and weaponry positively glowed now, they were so clean. Kurt had been quite surprised at her insight to begin with, but soon also threw himself into the task, and had somehow managed to cajole Jubilee into helping them too, upon occasion - although often she couldn't due to her own chores around the temple.
Kitty wasn't sure how she felt about Jubilee. The other Changeling had shown them nothing but kindness since they arrived, and had welcomed the odd pair into the fold with nary a word against them, barring those times when her irritation simply became too much and someone felt the sharp side of her tongue.
_But she's *always* around. Whenever we do anything, Jubilee's there too. Sometimes I wish... I wish it was just me, Kurt and Rogue again. Weird as it sounds. I miss traipsing through the forest together, and being able to talk to Kurt without someone else butting in on the conversation. If there was one thing Rogue tried to avoid, it was conversation._
She sighed, eliciting a glance from the elf himself. "Kätzchen, are you all right?"
"Yeah." She propped her arm up on the side of her chair and resting one cheek against her fist. Despite her intentions to remain awake, she felt her eyelids drooping, and had to force them open again. "I'm fine," she added, hoping the effort of forming words would help to keep her conscious a while longer.
Kurt regarded her. With his extra-sharp vision, he noted the dark patches beneath her eyes, and the dullness that had invaded. Her face appeared haggard and worn; as well it might considering how little sleep she'd been getting lately.
A small smirk played about his lips, as he recalled carrying her to her bed last night. On a whim, and suffering from worry-induced insomnia himself, he'd visited the Infirmary and found her fast asleep in her seat. She'd looked so peaceful and tired that he couldn't bring himself to wake her, and instead had Bamfed her directly to her own bed and set her down to sleep in more comfort than the Infirmary furniture could offer. She probably had no idea how she'd gotten there in the morning, he thought wryly, but he didn't care. He liked doing little things for her, even if she didn't know that he was doing them.
A faint groan from the bed captured his attention once more, and he turned to see Rogue's head gently rocking from side to side. Teah leaned across and dabbed at her forehead, but she could do nothing else for her. Rogue's fever had already broken two nights ago, amid much worrying and wringing of hands by all. Things had been pretty hairy for a while, he thought, pardoning himself for the self-inflicted cliché. Nobody had thought she was going to make it through, least of all Teah. She'd done her best, plying the sick girl with all the medical knowledge she possessed and exhausting her half-recovered healing powers as she attempted to ease the fever plaguing her patient; but Rogue had still waned to the point of no return, and everyone had thought she was certainly done for.
He remembered how Kitty had sat in the corner throughout, resolutely polishing Rogue's sword in the hope that it might somehow help. He'd been sceptical at first, but soon found himself doing the same to her knife, if simply to occupy his hands; scrubbing and cleaning as if her life depended on his removing all traces of dirt and grime - which, in some symbolic sense, he suspected it did.
Indeed, the moment they'd finished the arduous task, their companion's fever had broken, leaving all concerned exhausted, but relieved and amazed in equal measure. Teah and Ororo seemed to be the most surprised at the ex-assassin's stubborn refusal to consent to death, and had marvelled long and loud at her steady recovery as the hours turned into days and the days flashed by. Truly, as Ororo seemed wont to say, the gods had favoured Rogue this day, for nobody in living history had *ever* recovered from Shaking Sickness via their own power, and without considerably more aid from a healer than Teah was able to give.
_But that's Rogue for you. Stubborn as a mule, and twice as grouchy. I kept telling them she wasn't the type of person to just lie down and die without a fight, no matter how high the odds are stacked against her. It's how she's survived so long in her situation. And I was right. Though I like to think Kätzchen and myself had something to do with it, too._
The rejoicing at Rogue's continued survival, however, had been tempered by the fact that her forced-slumber still remained. She'd stayed in her unconscious state even after the Shaking Sickness miraculously left her, trapped in the mental prison of her own making, as Teah put it. The healer had begun to worry that she'd never rouse, until tonight when, out of the blue and with no prior warning, Underling Dukes had come to her with the startling news that Rogue was coming to at last.
So that was how this motley crew had come to be here now, clustered around the plain bed as far as space and breathing room would allow. Naturally, Ororo and Teah were foremost, with Kurt and Kitty close behind. Jean and Jubilee remained in the background, hovering around and watching proceedings from a distance. Both Underlings Fred and Tabby had been sent off on respective tasks to 'keep them occupied' as Ororo put it, or 'get them out from under my feet' as Teah preferred.
The last sliver of sunlight peeked over the horizon, lighting the room with a ruddy glow. Teah rose with a grunt and retrieved a torch from the wall. She cursed under her breath as she fumbled with a flint from her desk, until Jubilee stepped forward and lit it with a small, colourful blast from her fingertip. She seemed quite pleased at her own control, but said nothing. With a crackle the torch burst into life, casting a warm blush about the space and the anxious faces in it. Nobody looked up, and Teah returned to her place with a sigh.
The vigil went on.
Suddenly, Rogue began to shuffle. Her body trembled ever so slightly, and her lips parted to whisper something inaudible. Everyone craned his or her neck, hoping fervently it meant she was about to reawaken. Yet no further movement ensued, and gradually everyone fell back into the accustomed positions they'd assumed in the past few hours.
All of them, that is, except for Jean. The redheaded girl remained alert, her face contorted into a mask of vague discomfort and pain. With a harsh intake of breath, she pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging the skin in a vain attempt to alleviate gathering tension.
Kurt's head snapped around, hypersensitive ears twitching. "Are you all right, Frauline Rotkopf?"
"Yeah," Jean replied, waving a dismissive hand at him.
"Only, you look a little peaky -"
"No, really, I'm fine. Just a bit woozy, is all," she assured. Looking up, however, she instantly met Ororo's reproving gaze. Something in the older woman's eyes made her squirm, and she found herself sheepishly admitting, "Well, actually, I'm, uh... feeling a disturbance. In the air, that is."
"Disturbance?" Kitty swivelled to look.
Jean explained. "A psychic disturbance. It's only faint, but it's growing. I can't sense yet where it's coming from, but it's... it's weird. Like... I don't know quite how to explain it. I keep getting flashes of things - pictures, sounds, smells. Very lucid, but very brief."
"What sort of things?" Ororo asked, folding her hands into the sleeves of her robe.
The acolyte closed her eyes, frowning slightly. "Burning. I can smell burning. And there's shouting, coming closer. Running. I can feel my feet pounding as I run, even though I know I'm really standing still. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. Too many to face. Panic! Panic!"
"Jean!" Ororo's commanding voice broke through her trance, and Jean's eyes snapped open with not a little relief.
"Whoa, sorry about that. I guess I kinda got caught up in the Visions. They were so real; like they were actually, physically happening to me. I've never felt anything quite like *that* before. And, somehow, I got the distinct impression that they weren't being broadcast on purpose. Kind of like a subconscious relay of mental images. Except that I've seen mental images before, and there's never been anything quite so *vivid*..."
"Could they be memories?" Teah chipped in, joining in the conversation for want of something better to do.
Jean looked thoughtful. "I don't know. I suppose they could be, but they're very clear. Usually memories get hazy as the person they belong to gets older. There was nothing hazy about these flashes."
"Is the disturbance still growing?" The healer's tone was speculative.
"Yes. Why?"
"Because of that." She indicated to the pillow, where Rogue's head was rocking from side to side again. She was murmuring, forehead puckered with lines, like she was concentrating very hard. "Do you think it could be connected? I may just be grasping at straws, here, but we have to explore every avenue."
"I... I don't know. I *suppose* it could be possible," Jean conceded, "but it's difficult to tell. I don't want to telepathically reach out to Rogue because of the mental barriers she's set up. They're powerful enough to kill a person if approached the wrong way." She frowned, and rubbed the sides of her head again. "Ugh, these images are clearer than ever. I keep hearing individual words, but I don't understand what they mean. I... I feel the pain of the one broadcasting these things now. The mind is raw, like someone's reopened old emotional wounds as well as causing new ones. It's intense, I can tell you. I... urgh!"
She swayed for a moment, gripping her skull in both hands. Jubilee, the closest, darted forward and propped her up with her arms, but the taller girl didn't acknowledge the gesture. She was too caught up in what her psyche was inadvertently receiving, and wavered from side to side like a drunken reprobate.
"Alone. So alone. Everything... everyone gone. Running. Things... can see things. Such things... Scenery. Too fast, too fast. Can't make out anything. Where am I? Recognise... falling. I'm sorry... so sorry. Never told you... Pietro. I see darkness, and then..." She gasped, struggling for breath.
Not knowing what else to do, Jubilee did as she would have done for any choking person and slapped the telepath on the back. Jean's eyes once again popped open instantaneously, only this time they were filled with unmistakable fear.
"Jean, what did you see?" Ororo was at her side in a second, and guiding her back to her own chair next to the bed.
"It was... it was horrible," Jean gulped, eyes so wide whites dwarfed the green. "I saw blood... so much blood. It was like a red river, and it was all running through my fingers. I couldn't stop it; it just kept coming, even when I tried to find the source so I could stem it. And the bodies. The bodies kept falling... over... the edge... help!" She struggled against the older woman's hold, fighting her way backwards and bumping into Jubilee in the process.
"What the - " exclaimed the younger girl, stumbling into a grunt instead of a very bad word.
"Jean, what is it?" Ororo asked, brows knitted with obvious alarm. Somehow that didn't comfort anyone else in the room. "What's wrong?"
"I... I can't go any closer... the images... they get worse the... the closer I ... get. Oh, help me! *Help* *me*!" Jean clutched at her head, shaking it from side to side. Her pain-filled voice took on the manner of a frightened child, and she cried out for aid that none of the non-telepathic knew how to administer. "Make them go away. Please. They're too... too... Get out of my head! Leave me alone! You aren't *my* memories. Why are you inside my head? Get out! Get... *out*!"
Ororo reached for her again, heedless of the flailing arms and capturing the distressed Jean in an embrace usually reserved for small children. "Shhh, shhh," she woman whispered. "Hush, Jean. Hush. It's all right, it's all right."
Unnoticed to the others, a significant look passed between Kurt and Kitty. One memory, shared by both of them, had simultaneously recovered itself at something the telepath had unknowingly said. Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow, and Kitty nodded decisively.
Kurt swivelled round on his perch. "Ororo, they're hers."
The Temple Mother looked at him, arms full of a near-weeping Jean, trying fruitlessly to console her. "Pardon?"
"The images Jean is seeing. They *have* to belong to Rogue."
Ororo blinked in semi-confusion. "How can you be certain?" was all she asked.
"Because of something that happened in Zanninsa," Kitty chimed in. "You remember we told you that we met Rogue's old mentor from The Guild of Assassins there?"
"Yes."
"Well, when he told her to go to Belvedere, he said she'd want to go because somebody called 'Pietro' is there. She said it was someone she, like, used to know from her days as an assassin, and since it's not exactly a common name, we reckon that the things Jean's picking up are Rogue's thoughts and memories."
"It's possible," Ororo granted. A lock of white strayed across her face, and she turned to the juddering girl clutching so desperately at her. "Jean. Jean, I need you to listen to me. Can you hear me, child? Are you still there?"
Jean sniffed. "Yes, I'm still here. But I keep seeing... keep seeing them. They won't go away."
"That's good, Jean. It's important you can still sense those things. Child, I need you to focus on something for me. It'll help you to get rid of the images. Can you do that for me? Can you?"
Jean turned her face to look up into Ororo's. "Anything," she murmured. "Anything to get rid of the blood in my head."
Kurt recoiled. She sounded so desperate. _But she was absolutely fine a few minutes ago. How can this be happening so *fast*? There was no warning. Is it... could it be because Rogue's close to waking up?_ Then another, rather more unpleasant notion crossed his psyche, causing him to shiver. _If Rogue *does* wake up, will the images then leave Jean's mind alone?_
"Jean," Ororo went on, gently stroking the crown of red in a soothing action, "reach out to the images; embrace them. Don't drive them away. Call to them. Let them know you can hear them."
Green eyes went wide. "But they *hurt*," Jean whispered, sounding like nothing so much as a frightened infant. "They hurt so *much*. I... I don't know if I can. I don't know if I want to..."
"Jean, the only way they'll leave is if you embrace them to yourself. Let the owner of them know she's not alone; that someone can hear her, and is willing to help. Touch them. Draw them out. Feel them as if they were your own memories, thoughts and dreams. Hold them to your mind as I'm holding you now. Do it, Jean. Help yourself by helping her." Ororo smiled encouragingly.
Jean swallowed, throat bobbing uncertainly. Her mouth was dry, and her gullet constricted at the masochistic idea of actually inviting those terrible picture back into her head. Yet if that was the way to get rid of them... Ororo was wise. She always knew what to do in situations like this, didn't she? Perhaps... perhaps she should listen...?
"All right."
That strange, proud smile the Temple Mother reserved solely for her appeared, and Jean felt the familiar uplifting glow it incited. Maybe she *could* do this. If Ororo believed that she could, then maybe, just maybe, there was something to the idea of embracing that harsh, aggrieved mind one more time; a mind so filled with horrors and past austerity that they dwarfed all positive emotions to near-invisibility, burying them in a thick blanket of pain, loss and anger.
A shiver ran the length of her spine, but she drew herself up to her full height and pushed away to stand on her own. With a perfunctory nod and a wince, Jean closed her eyes.
Mentally, she called to the images she'd kept at bay, teasing them forward gently, reassuringly. They hovered at the edge of her telepathic mind, wary of her sudden change. She assured them she meant no harm, and that they could find a home in her if they wished. Still they wavered, unsure of her true intentions. Even without a conscious mind to guide them, they still retained the same aura of wariness that had kept their owner alive for so long.
Jean showed them pictures from her own mind; warm memories of her past, intended to demonstrate that she was no threat and meant no harm.
They peered forward nervously, yet with almost tangible interest at what she brought forth, and Jean could feel the wonder at seeing something so different then what they were used to. Growing up as a child in her village. Being tucked in at night by her mother, an affectionate kiss planted upon her forehead. Playing in the meadow with her friends, grass tickling her nose until she sneezed. The first berries of spring, tender-purple and juicy between her teeth. Her memories positively glowed with warmth and contentment, and she could feel the hovering presence creep forward despite itself.
She continued with the assortment of memories, hoping to gain its trust enough to dissuade suspicion and welcome it in. A mixture of distrust and curiosity permeated her senses.
And something else too.
It was vague, but she sensed it all the same, and probed gently until it showed itself.
Shock flooded through her. This couldn't be right, could it? If this really was the unconscious presence of The Rogue of The Guild of Assassins, then this kind of emotion was incongruous and out of place.
Yet it remained; still and faint, but there nonetheless, mentally replying to Jean's happy memories and innocent childhood exploits. Could that really be... yearning?
The presence crawled at a snail's pace, and Jean hailed it with proverbial open arms. Tentatively, it reached out for one of her recollections; the one of her first kiss, only a few months ago now, before her village was destroyed and her life changed. The memory of warm lips against Jean's own was pushed forward like an offering, and in a manner akin to a cat's paw in water, the presence touched it.
All at once white-hot pain erupted in the telepath's skull. It blotted out everything, until all she was left with were a jumble of memories and half-remembered thoughts. Some were her own, some were not, and they whirled around inside her head like a jabbering maelstrom, pummelling her extra-sensitive psyche with images so torturous and streaked with red that she screamed as if her heart was being torn out whole.
Jean was vaguely aware of hands clutching her shoulders, holding her up; but everything was so distorted it might have been a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Voices echoed inside her brain, reverberating and shouting back at themselves to make a cacophony of chaotic sound. Yet nothing could stop the pain from spreading.
It was too much. She could feel herself fading, cracking under the intensity of bearing two sets of memories. Too much to bear. Too much. And it *hurt*. It hurt so *much* that she wanted to just sit down in a corner and cry.
Desperately, Jean reached out for something - anything - to stop the agony. Her mental fingers caught hold, and she clung on with all her telepathic might, willing herself not to let go. Indistinctly, she felt surprise from that at which she clutched, brief and distant. However, soon it, too, was lost in the whirlwind of blinding, irrefutable pain.
And then she was falling.
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"Jean? *Jean*?" Jubilee called desperately. The older girl's weight was almost crushing her, but she struggled gamely to stay upright, always shouting her name.
Jean slumped against her, oblivious to the world and everything in it, eyes closed as if in sudden sleep.
Kurt dashed forward, catching the redhead as she began to tumble and wrapping his tail around her waist for extra support. Gently, the two of them lowered her body to the floor, and knelt by her side as suddenly harsh breathing ripped from her lungs and whimpering leaked from her mouth.
This was so unlike Jean. Kurt had only been here a few days, but the older girl had always seemed so composed whenever he saw her - always the figure of calm authority in Ororo's absence. Sometimes she seemed anxious, but this was only in her attempts to please Ororo. Never had she exhibited anything even remotely like this behaviour, and, judging by the strained the look on Jubilee's face, she'd never done it before he arrived, either.
"Jean? Oh, come on Jean. Wake up." The oriental girl gripped one of Jean's hands, holding it so tightly the blood was visibly cut off. "Ororo, was this supposed to happen? Was this part of your plan?"
Kurt looked up, and for the first time he saw something briefly flash across Ororo's face he never would've imagined in a million years.
She looked like she didn't know what to do. Confusion played about her eyes, before she schooled her face back into an expression of serenity once more, and bent down by her acolyte's side.
Respectfully, Kurt and Jubilee edged away, getting to their feet and watching what went on from a distance.
Kurt risked a glance over his shoulder. Rogue had become deathly still, and he fancied that her chest was no longer moving up and down. A knot manifested in the pit of his stomach, rising to form a strangled lump in his throat.
"Kätzchen," he hissed.
Kitty turned and gasped. "Oh no. Is she... is she breathing?"
"Ich weiss nicht. I don't know."
Teah barrelled through, all elbows and shoving hands. "Move out of the way, all of you!" she ordered tersely. "You're doing more harm than good by hanging around here. Go on, move!"
Hastily, they moved aside for her, retiring to the back of the room so as not to be in the way of either crisis. The three younger adolescents huddled together, wondering silently what to do. They each felt helpless, though their feelings went unvoiced, and the room fell into an oppressive silence, as Teah checked Rogue's motionless form for life signs, and Jean's cries abated into harsh stillness.
An overwhelming chill hung in the air, as everyone waited.
For what?
Nobody was quite sure, but they waited all the same. Waited for life? Waited for death? Waited for a return? Or perhaps a departure? All they could do was wait by the flickering light of the torch.
Suddenly, Jean coughed. A groan escaped her lips and she tried to sit up. Ororo caught her as she swayed, rubbing her back in a comforting gesture.
Hopeful, Kurt looked over to where Teah perched next to Rogue, but there was no change in the ex-assassin. She still lay, quiet and still, to all intents and purposes dead. Teah looked up, lips tightly pursed, and shook her head. The elf bit his tongue, and turned back to where Jean was struggling shakily to her feet.
Green eyes surveyed the room, faint confusion clearly visible. Jean's brows creased, and she turned to look squarely at Ororo with an expression far too harsh for such a gentle and kind girl.
"Where in all the Seven Hells am I?" she demanded weakly, voice watery but possessing a near-palpable strength of resolve.
The voice was Jean's, but the infection was not. Kurt's eyes took on the appearance of two new moons as he recognised the familiar brusque tone.
"Rogue?"
All eyes fell upon him, and he squirmed a bit under their scrutiny.
Jean gazed with blatant puzzlement showing through, shaking off Ororo's well-meaning hands. "Elf? What's goin' on? Where are we?"
"Rogue... is that you?"
"A' course it's me, y'addled fuzzball. Who else would it..." She trailed off, eyes falling upon the figure in the bed. "Oh gods!"
Instantly, she brought her hands up in front of her face, staring at her palms - Jean's palms - in dismay. They were smooth, with just a hint of calluses here and there. Long and slender, they barely resembled her own pale ones, and she turned them this way and that, disbelief clearly evident in everything she did.
"What's going on? Elf, what's happened to me? Why am I over here, and mah body's over *there*?"
"Rogue, bitte, don't be alarmed." Kurt began, stepping forward.
"Don't be alarmed, he says. Of course I'm frikkin' alarmed! It ain't every day you wake up to find outcha got a new damn body! What's happenin'? Where's the Shrimp?"
"I'm here, Rogue." Kitty joined Kurt. "And Kurt's right. Try to calm down, and we'll explain things."
"Calm down? You try calmin' down! Where am I? Who *are* all these people?"
"Freunde. You have nothing to fear from them, Rogue," Kurt assured softly, voice soothing.
Through Jean's eyes, Rogue glared back at him. "Who said anythin' about me being afraid of 'em? If they've done this to me, then I wanna take their damn heads off!"
Kitty raised her hands, as Jubilee shrank back against the wall behind them. "Whoa, Rogue. These people, like, saved your life. I think there should be a little more display of gratitude here."
"Saved mah life?" Green eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Frauline... how much do you remember?"
The tall girl blinked, opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Her expression became thoughtful, and she rubbed a hand against her head, jerking it away as if stung when it touched red hair instead of auburn.
"Last thing I remember was beddin' down in a tree near the river," she said at last. "Then I woke up to hear shoutin'. Y'all were gone, and I went to find out what the hell was goin' on. I found y'all, and I... I fought sumthin'. A creature... a creature in the river. A... Displacer Beast?" Her face turned quizzical, and both of her companions nodded vigorously.
"Ja, Frauline. You saved our lives."
"I did?"
"Uh-huh, you, like, totally showed that Displacer Beast who was boss! It was totally amazing!"
Rogue rubbed the temples of Jean's body. "I... kinda remember the battle. But after that, everything gets a bit fuzzy; like I was dreamin' or sumthin'. Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up here. Like *this*!" She gestured at herself, gaze swiftly becoming harsh. "Now, if it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate some damn answers."
"And you'll have them," Ororo put in smoothly.
Her once-apprentice glared at her. "And just who might *you* be?"
"My name is Ororo the White," the exotic woman replied, not in the slightest bit cowed by the hostile tone, "and you are The Rogue of The Guild of Assassins, are you not?"
"So what if I am?"
"Then I wish to welcome you to our humble temple." Ororo spread her arms wide as was the customary greeting. It demonstrated to people that you meant them no harm, since your chest was open at that moment, and an easy target should they choose to take advantage of it. "Although I would have preferred it if our first meeting were not under such... unusual circumstances."
The serious lines framing Rogue's - no, Jean's - eyes declined a little at this. There was something intensely familiar about this strange woman, who would leave herself open to attack from one of the most notorious killers in all Earth-Realm without a second thought. Something just beyond her reach, but tantalizingly recognizable - like the last remnants of a dream.
"This place is a temple?" she asked, stalling. "To which god?"
"None in particular. We are a peaceful sect who devote our lives to caring for others and teaching them the path to enlightenment through returning to nature." The woman smiled, showing bright white teeth. "Perhaps you've heard of us in your travels? We are known as The Temple of The Way."
A flash of recollection; part Rogue's, part something else. "Yeah, I've heard of y'all. But how did I *get* here? This place is pretty much cut off from everywhere from what I've heard."
"Your friends carried you here when you were injured."
"They did?" Rogue turned to them, incredulity momentarily taking the place of irk at the term 'friend.' "Why did y'all do sumthin' crazy like that? You woulda got a reward for takin' mah carcass to the authorities, y'know."
Kurt looked horrified. "Do you really think us so base, Frauline? We owe you our lives. The least we could do was save yours."
Rogue rubbed her temples again, slightly embarrassed and taking no pleasure in the unwelcome feeling. "But still I don't understand. I was injured?"
Kitty's head bobbed up and down. "Rogue, you were poisoned by the Displacer Beast's spines," she said softly. "We... we didn't know if you were going to make it. But Kurt refused to give up. He carried you himself, and I held your armour, and we searched for help. Neither of us could go on much longer when we found this place. Jean guided us here - she's the owner of the body you're in now."
Jean? The name sounded familiar, though she couldn't think why. Jean. Jean. Jean... Was that really the girl whose body she now inhabited? But how? And why?
"That still doesn't answer mah original question, Shrimp," Rogue growled. "Why in all the Hells am I in *this* body instead of mah own?"
The small blonde child on the bed hopped off and walked towards her in a purposeful manner. Rogue didn't like children at the best of times - not that this was anywhere approaching the best of times. They were too bright and cocky by half; and always, *always* too cheerful. They reminded her of things she'd rather forget about her own tough upbringing.
She was surprised when this one spoke in a firm, all-too-adult voice, belying her immature body.
"Look, I'll give it to you straight. When you first arrived at the temple you'd been poisoned. I'm the healer here, and I removed it from your system. However, afterwards it was discovered that you were also suffering from Shaking Sickness, which I couldn't heal because my energy reserves were too depleted."
Rogue started. Shaking Sickness? She looked at the hands that weren't her own once more. Was that why she was now in someone else's body? She'd heard tales from the East of powerful mages who shared mortal shells with loved ones when their own bodies could no longer house their souls for one reason or another. But... she didn't know this 'Jean' person at all, and such occurrences required a union of souls to form a singular, new person. She was still quite herself, just in the wrong place.
So where was Jean?
Rogue shook her head to dispel these unwanted reflections, and strands of red hair brushed her cheek, making her lip quiver in disgust. All at once she didn't care who this Jean person was or why she was sharing her body. Rogue just wanted out and back into her own - *now*!
"Did I die? Is that why mah body isn't mine anymore?"
"Gods, no. You recovered well. It was quite amazing really. But you remained unconscious no matter what we did." The little girl's eyes flashed. "That is, until tonight. You showed the first signs of waking earlier this evening. Jean is a telepath, and she tried to help you, but something went wrong and you woke up in her body instead of your own." She folded her arms. "So now you know the how, but I'm at a loss to explain the why behind this." She curled her own lip in such a way as indicated she liked telepathy as much as Rogue liked children.
Rogue blinked, information seeping into her brain, though much of it she didn't understand.
_Telepath? Is she a Changeling then? Who is this kid? I recovered from *Shaking Sickness* without a healer? How the heck did I do that? It's impossible - _
Kurt cleared his throat. "Is there any way we can change them back?"
"That depends. We don't even know if Jean is *in* there or not anymore. She may have been just blinked out of existence when your friend here took her place."
An oriental girl in the corner emitted a strangled gasp. "Oh no! Poor Jean!"
Something tugged at the fringes of Rogue's mind; something quite insistent that refused to go away no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It was a strange sensation, almost like hearing a quiet person call from far away.
She closed her eyes for a moment, focussing on it. For some inexplicable reason, she sensed that it was important, and scrunched up her face in concentration.
"Rogue, are you okay?"
"She's still here."
"What?" The Shrimp's voice was puzzled, and Rogue opened her eyes.
"The real owner of this body. This 'Jean' y'all keep talking about. She's still here. I can feel her - inside mah head."
At once the blonde healer became stern, stepping forward and reaching to take one of Rogue's hands in her own. Rogue yanked it away, but the child seemed not to notice the unreceptive action, and babbled on regardless.
"In that case, it's imperative that we return you to your rightful forms as soon as possible. With Jean's telepathic abilities, it may just be possible. Can you talk to her?"
"Nah. It's more of a feelin'. I can sense her more than hear her."
"Try to sense her, then. Call her with your mind. She'll know what to do if she's got any intelligence."
Rogue cast a sceptical look around her. _Call her with mah *mind*? Just what kind of a dumb-ass order is that?_
Her gaze abruptly fell upon the Elf and the Shrimp. Their eyes were pleading, matching each other perfectly in their silent request for her to just do what she was told without her usual brusqueness and penchant for violence. Gold and blue stared at her, willing her for once in her life to listen to someone else.
Something unidentifiable stirred within her heart at their incongruous concern. She was The Rogue. They were supposed to fear and hate her, not care for her well-being. That wasn't the way things were supposed to be.
The healer tapped her foot, impatient. "Well? Hurry up. We haven't much time. I'm guessing Jean's hold isn't very strong, since she has no actual body to attach herself to."
Rogue curled her lip in a snarl, but let the urge to rip out the healer's throat slide. Instead, grumpy resignation took its place.
_Then again, when have I ever been one to do things by the book?_
She closed her eyes and thought of the telepath's name. She didn't know if it was the right thing to do or not, but did it all the same, thinking as loudly as she could.
_Jean? Jean, are y'all there? Jean, come here. Come here now, damnit! Your friends out here wantcha back, and I wanna go back to mah own body. Jean, come here, damn you!_
On the outside everybody waited.
At first there was no discernable change to Jean's body. It simply stood there, eyelids firmly shut, brooking no visitors. It was impossible to tell just who was in residence, and Kurt's sharp sight traced the faint blue veins pulsing against her skin as he searched for some sign of what was going on.
Everyone gathered in the room held a collective breath, lungs bursting, but refusing to let it go lest something happen and they miss it on the exhale.
Suddenly, the girl's left hand twitched. It clenched into a fist, fingernails digging into the palm and leaving small, half-moon shaped marks in the skin. All of them craned their necks, waiting for another screaming outburst like the one that had signified the switch earlier, but nothing of the sort came to pass, and all they were left with was an eerie silence and almost palpable sense of anti-climax.
For a long moment nothing happened. Then, the face scrunched once, and the harsh wrinkles of Rogue's ill-concealed frown immediately evened out, like someone trying on a set of clothing, and smoothing out the creases to their liking. A small sigh escaped the lips, and gentle green eyes slowly opened.
A smile tweaked the corners of her mouth. "I'm back."
"Jean!" Jubilee fairly launched herself at the older girl, catching her in an embrace that simultaneously cut off her windpipe and sent her staggering backwards.
"Jubilee, I didn't know you cared," Jean choked, not unkindly.
"Of course I cared, idiot. You're my friend. I thought you were gone forever!"
"So did I." A wry expression twisted Jean's pretty face. "Remind me never to do anything like that again."
"Are you all right, my child?" Ororo gently prized the over-excited adolescent off and faced her acolyte.
Jean rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah. That was definitely an... interesting experience, and not one I'd care to repeat. You can tell your friend, The Rogue, that her mental voice is very, *very* loud!" This last comment was directed at Kurt and Kitty. However Jean's face changed into a mask of bemusement, because the pair were suddenly not there.
A quick glance revealed them on either side of The Rogue's bed, each holding a pale hand clutched in their own. The ex-assassin was as still and silent as the grave, not even a flicker of life crossing her eyelids.
Jean walked towards them. "But I helped her to get back. I *know* she's returned to her own body. I *put* her there and helped her to take down the mental barriers from the inside. She should be waking up just like me."
Neither Kitty nor Kurt looked up. Their gazes were both fixed intently on their companion's face, the dying hope on their own tragically apparent.
"Rogue, please wake up. *Please*." Kitty's voice hitched in her gullet, and she tenderly stroked the other girl's hand like it was a lost and frightened animal.
Kurt stared at her through serious golden eyes, an angry whisper slipping off his tongue. "You have to come back to us, Rogue. You have to come back." He blinked back tears, the fur beneath his eyes dampening. "I'll never forgive you if you don't. You *have* to come back to us."
Somewhere, in the deep recesses of a place unknown, yet startlingly familiar, his call was heard.
And heeded.
*******************
"You got real talent, Marie, and the potential to go far in the Guild. But it ain't gonna happen if ya don't stop closing up your ears and start listening to me when I'm trying to teach ya stuff. I know for a fact that ya could beat any other pupil in the entire Guild, but it ain't good enough. Until ya got the right attitude, ya might as well be some penny-per-dozen rent-a-blade. A *mercenary*!"
Logan's face, sneering through the all-encompassing darkness. Shafts of metal snake back into his fist, and then I'm running.
Running.
I'm always running.
"You know Emilios. Unless I'm beating you, he isn't interested in any progress I've made. Sometimes I think he'll be dissatisfied with me until I put you six feet under. This rivalry with Logan can be a real drag."
Pietro? How can you be here? And so young. A little boy, scuffing his feet on the ground and looking furtively at me. He's ashamed of what he's saying. He's ashamed of what his mentor makes him do.
Pietro. I forgive you. I know you don't really feel that way.
Now he's older, craning his neck out over the edge of the cliff. I can see him. Sea-spray cuts my face. I can smell the salt. Down here! I'm down here! Please don't leave me here to die like this! Pietro! Pietro!
"Take my hand! It's the only way, Marie!"
"I'll fall!"
"No, you won't! I won't let you! Trust me."
I do trust you - I do! Please help me. Don't leave me alone like this.
Older still, and with a sword of his own. He looks so sad. But all I can feel is bitterness and anger.
He's leaving me. After all we've been through together - all the private training, all the comforting each other; nights alone in my chambers, hiding you from Emilios' wrath. I remember. But it all means nothing to you. You're leaving me anyway. Leaving me all alone.
"You're gonna go anyway, no matter what I say. So just go now, and spare me your insincere goodbyes. I don't wanna here them!"
White hair, and sad, sad blue eyes. I've hurt him. I can see it. And my words hurt me too. I don't want you to go, Pietro. I want you to stay - to *stay* here with me! I want you to know how I feel, but I just can't get the words out.
"Marie, I'd never leave you. This Erik may be my father, but I'd never put anyone above you. Never! I... I care too much to do that to you."
You care about me? Surprise. Shock. I don't know what to feel. You *care* about me? I want to tell you the same, but my mouth won't make the words.
Warm lips on mine. The smell of sawdust in my nose. And his smell. The faint scent of flowers. Strange. The Guild doesn't have many flowers, but you always smell of them, all year round. New life. Your life. My life. Our lives.
"I'll come back."
Another face, old and sneering through his beard. The smell of incense. It's overpowering in here. A fire crackles in the grate, but it offers no comfort. I still feel cold because of what Maxor's telling me to do.
"Logan the Swift has been sticking his Wolverinnen nose where it's not wanted. He's somehow got hold of information that may effectively collapse the delicate situation with our... benefactor, if it ever got out. And I *know* that he means for it to get out."
Logan. They want me to kill Logan. They want me to betray someone I love for their own personal gain.
Shining... sword-blade... a precious metal... dangerous... 'politics'... something about silver... silver... silver...
Silver Sword!
"Don't you know what'll happen if you ally The Guild of Assassins with The Silver Sword? We'll lose our identity. He'll crush us out of existence and put us to work in his armies and mines. Is that what you want?"
And then I'm running again. I'm always running. Always.
"You are *outcast*."
Someone chasing me. Hot on my heels. The smell of salt again. I know where I am. Just a little bit further. Just a little bit...
Blood. Fight. Hurt. Parry. Thrust. Strike. Stab. Cleave. Scream. Bodies. Corpses. Shouting. Baying for blood. For *my* blood.
Come and get me then, Pebehocks! Let's see what you're made of!
Pietro. I'm sorry. I never told you that I love you. I could never say the words. I only wish I could see you again, to tell you what I feel. But I can't. It's too late for me. I'm nothing now. Just a scrap on the wind. An outcast. A Rogue.
"Sorry boys, but I choose mah own path!"
Falling. Falling. Down, down, down. Shouting behind me, but I don't care. I've cheated them. Cheated them out of their prize. I smile.
Pietro, I'm sorry.
Then blackness, and swirling pain I can't escape. I'm battered from side to side, washed away by the fate of my own choosing. The path that I walk for myself.
So much pain.
"Rogue. Please wake up. *Please*."
Who's that? Someone calling me? A girl. She sounds so sad. Who would be sad for me? I'm nothing. Nobody. The only ones who ever cared for me are gone.
"You have to come back to us, Rogue."
Someone else too. Male. He's crying. Crying... for me?
"You have to come back."
Come back?
Yes.
I want to come back. I want to go back to the light. I don't want to be in the darkness anymore. I've found my answers in the darkness, just like Mystique and The Powers That Be said I would. I remember. I remember everything I wanted to forget. I'm ready to go back.
"You *have* to come back to us."
I'm ready now. I remember. The Guild of Assassins. The Combat Arena. The cliff-top. Training. Being cast out. Emilios. Maxor. Logan. Pietro
Pietro.
I'll find you again, I promise.
I'm sorry.
And I love you.
*******************
Rogue sat bolt upright, a scream hovering on her lips. Her hands were tied. She couldn't get them loose. Desperately she struggled against the bonds that imprisoned her.
"Frauline! Rogue! It's us!"
"Rogue, stop it. Please!"
The Elf? And the Shrimp? They were holding her hands, concern and worry etched into their oh-so-different faces. She could feel the soft fur of one, and the cold clamminess of the other.
The aftermath of the flood of memories washed over her, taking her breath away with its intensity, so that she flopped back into the damp embrace of the bed she now found herself in. Sweat slicked her entire body; a cold sheen that made her stick to the sheets and their skin alike.
"Frauline, are you all right?" Golden eyes, so filled with worry, stared down at her, closely followed by a pair of equally worried blue.
Blue eyes.
At once a long-forgotten image filled her battered mind; that of a small boy, wan face framed by snowy hair, two sapphires blazing out at her. Were it not for them then he would have appeared dead, he was so pale; but his eyes possessed a spark all of their own. A spark she'd pushed away for so long because it was too painful to remember; too painful to recall what she'd lost; what she'd left behind.
Suddenly it was too much. An incongruous desire to share her pain brimmed inside Rogue, as she gazed up into the two faces that had cared for her and showed her compassion despite her identity and detestable behaviour. She'd shown them revulsion, and they'd replied by saving her life. She'd insulted them, and they'd given her kind words. She'd threatened them, and they'd just kept coming back, refusing to leave her alone.
Alone.
So terribly, terribly alone.
Was that it? Was she lonely?
How absurd. Assassins didn't get lonely.
But she wasn't an assassin. Not anymore. And she *was* lonely.
She looked up at them, at their young, anxious faces. They didn't care what she'd done or what she was. They only cared about *her* as a person. That was something only two people had ever done in her life before.
The Shrimp - no, Kitty - was drawn and pale, many sleepless nights plain to be seen. The Elf - no, Kurt - he was... he was *crying*? He was crying... for her?
Emotion brimmed inside Rogue's heart, pounding against the wall of stoic indifference she'd cultivated for so long.
Her ice-queen exterior cracked.
_No more secrets. No more lies._
A weak croak lilted from her underused throat, and both Kurt and Kitty leaned closer to hear what she said.
"There's... some things... I need... to tell y'all..."
*******************
To Be Continued...
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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 project, since I started work on this before I ever *saw* those movies. 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: Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed - Klutz, Yumiko, Quill of Molliemon, ezrajade, Emerald Lightning Goddess, UnknownSource, Arachnaphiliac, Lonley Poet, Cheesy Monkey, Morgannia, ChaosCat and AerinBrown - and a big extra thank you for hanging on until I pulled my socks up and posted something.
I'll keep the A/N short and sweet, because nobody wants to hear me babble, but I really must mention that the main impetus behind this monster being updated is a spiffy piece of artwork of Assassin Rogue done by Arachnaphiliac, which can be found at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?p=14344#14344 Concept sketches can be found at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?t=447 Go revel in her greatness. ^____^
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'Of Beast and Blade' By Scribbler
Chapter Fifteen ~ 'Revival By Proxy'
*******************
'Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.' -- Aristotle.
*******************
Underling Dukes looked up sharply at the sudden noise. His chins wobbled as he peered inquisitively at the source, piggish eyes widening when he realised exactly what it was. With footsteps that rivalled mini-earthquakes, he sped to the door of the Infirmary and called excitedly into the adjoining room.
"Initiate Ashari! Initiate Ashari! Come quick!"
The blonde Changeling appeared in the doorway, quill still in hand. Her hair was dishevelled, conspicuous black bags ringing her eyes and denoting several consecutive nights of insomnia and broken sleep. She yawned once, patting her mouth and leaving a splatter of ink on her cheek in the process.
"What is it, Fred? I was working on a new tonic I've created to ease joint-trouble."
"But Initiate Ashari," the oversized youth wrung his hands in agitation, "The Rogue, she - The *Rogue*!"
"What about her?" Teah snapped. She knew that Fred was prone to overreact at things, and was in no mood to be trifled with this morning. Another night of screaming had ensured she slept little, and her nerves were fast reaching breaking point.
Fred's next words, however, stunned her nearly into silence, and she stood for a moment, unable to do anything but stare up at his towering frame with her mouth open.
"Initiate Ashari, I think she's waking up." After a few seconds, he then added; "Um, are you OK, Initiate Ashari?"
"What? Yes, yes, fine." Teah waved him aside, and when he didn't take the hint, jostled brusquely past. "Quickly, go and fetch me the easement potion from shelf number four in the stockroom. It's in a blue conical flask and should be labelled as such. Hurry now. If she's coming to, we may need it."
"Yes ma'am!" Fred gave a sort-of salute and set off on his required task, thumping across the floor and through the door towards the Infirmary stockroom.
Teah turned back to the bed that lodged Rogue. As she swiftly crossed the room towards it, she threw a thought up into the air, ignoring for the moment how much she loathed mental communication.
_Jean? Jean, where are you?_
//I'm right here, Teah. In the library. There's no need to think so loud.//
_No time for pleasantries, Jean. You have to bring Kurt, Kitty and Ororo to the Infirmary right away._
Into Jean's psychic voice crept a suspicious edge. //Why? What's happened?// Her ability to show emotion in a soundless voice often amazed those she conversed with, but Teah was of no disposition to marvel at the girl's talents at present.
_It's not so much what *has* happened, as much as what's *going* to happen._
Jean sighed and tutted. //Fine, fine, I'll tell them. I think they're off somewhere with Jubilee again. Probably Underling Tabitha's tagging along too. But tell me first, Teah - what's going on?//
The healer reached her patient's bedside. _It's The Rogue. She's waking up at last._
*******************
Kurt shifted his foot-grip on the back of the chair and asked for the umpteenth time, "Any progress?"
"Not since the last time you asked me, five minutes ago, Kurt," Teah replied snappishly.
He winced. "Entschuldigung. I'm just a bit... on edge. I get fidgety when I'm nervous."
"We'd, like, noticed," Kitty chipped in, not unkindly, "it isn't gonna help, though, Kurt."
"I know, I know, but I can't stop it." His tail lashed nervously, and from where he balanced on the chair-back he resembled nothing so much as a pendulum clock, of the sort that adorned rich houses. If anyone had felt humorous, they might have laughed; but, as it was, the atmosphere permeating the room was tense and foreboding - not unlike the calm before a storm.
Kitty watched him reflectively. He'd been that way ever since they received the call from Jean that Rogue was showing signs of waking. That was several hours ago, now, and through the window out onto the courtyard the suns were already beginning to set. Night was fast approaching, and Rogue had yet to open her eyes.
Of course, it wasn't the first time Kitty had stayed in the Infirmary after sunset. Over the past six nights since they'd arrived she'd spent a total of one in the bed actually allotted to her, and even then she'd been carried there, presumably by Fred when Teah discovered her slumped in her chair, next to Rogue's bedside as always. In the daytime the healer was always bustling around, doing this and that, and wouldn't brook any prolonged visits with people 'messing up the place' and getting in her way. Yet at night it was easier to stick around without being told off. At night, Kitty could sit quietly, cleaning Rogue's armour without fear of someone walking in on her and hearing her talking to the unconscious girl. At night, Kitty gained a little privacy, and utilized it to the fullest.
Rogue's armour and weaponry positively glowed now, they were so clean. Kurt had been quite surprised at her insight to begin with, but soon also threw himself into the task, and had somehow managed to cajole Jubilee into helping them too, upon occasion - although often she couldn't due to her own chores around the temple.
Kitty wasn't sure how she felt about Jubilee. The other Changeling had shown them nothing but kindness since they arrived, and had welcomed the odd pair into the fold with nary a word against them, barring those times when her irritation simply became too much and someone felt the sharp side of her tongue.
_But she's *always* around. Whenever we do anything, Jubilee's there too. Sometimes I wish... I wish it was just me, Kurt and Rogue again. Weird as it sounds. I miss traipsing through the forest together, and being able to talk to Kurt without someone else butting in on the conversation. If there was one thing Rogue tried to avoid, it was conversation._
She sighed, eliciting a glance from the elf himself. "Kätzchen, are you all right?"
"Yeah." She propped her arm up on the side of her chair and resting one cheek against her fist. Despite her intentions to remain awake, she felt her eyelids drooping, and had to force them open again. "I'm fine," she added, hoping the effort of forming words would help to keep her conscious a while longer.
Kurt regarded her. With his extra-sharp vision, he noted the dark patches beneath her eyes, and the dullness that had invaded. Her face appeared haggard and worn; as well it might considering how little sleep she'd been getting lately.
A small smirk played about his lips, as he recalled carrying her to her bed last night. On a whim, and suffering from worry-induced insomnia himself, he'd visited the Infirmary and found her fast asleep in her seat. She'd looked so peaceful and tired that he couldn't bring himself to wake her, and instead had Bamfed her directly to her own bed and set her down to sleep in more comfort than the Infirmary furniture could offer. She probably had no idea how she'd gotten there in the morning, he thought wryly, but he didn't care. He liked doing little things for her, even if she didn't know that he was doing them.
A faint groan from the bed captured his attention once more, and he turned to see Rogue's head gently rocking from side to side. Teah leaned across and dabbed at her forehead, but she could do nothing else for her. Rogue's fever had already broken two nights ago, amid much worrying and wringing of hands by all. Things had been pretty hairy for a while, he thought, pardoning himself for the self-inflicted cliché. Nobody had thought she was going to make it through, least of all Teah. She'd done her best, plying the sick girl with all the medical knowledge she possessed and exhausting her half-recovered healing powers as she attempted to ease the fever plaguing her patient; but Rogue had still waned to the point of no return, and everyone had thought she was certainly done for.
He remembered how Kitty had sat in the corner throughout, resolutely polishing Rogue's sword in the hope that it might somehow help. He'd been sceptical at first, but soon found himself doing the same to her knife, if simply to occupy his hands; scrubbing and cleaning as if her life depended on his removing all traces of dirt and grime - which, in some symbolic sense, he suspected it did.
Indeed, the moment they'd finished the arduous task, their companion's fever had broken, leaving all concerned exhausted, but relieved and amazed in equal measure. Teah and Ororo seemed to be the most surprised at the ex-assassin's stubborn refusal to consent to death, and had marvelled long and loud at her steady recovery as the hours turned into days and the days flashed by. Truly, as Ororo seemed wont to say, the gods had favoured Rogue this day, for nobody in living history had *ever* recovered from Shaking Sickness via their own power, and without considerably more aid from a healer than Teah was able to give.
_But that's Rogue for you. Stubborn as a mule, and twice as grouchy. I kept telling them she wasn't the type of person to just lie down and die without a fight, no matter how high the odds are stacked against her. It's how she's survived so long in her situation. And I was right. Though I like to think Kätzchen and myself had something to do with it, too._
The rejoicing at Rogue's continued survival, however, had been tempered by the fact that her forced-slumber still remained. She'd stayed in her unconscious state even after the Shaking Sickness miraculously left her, trapped in the mental prison of her own making, as Teah put it. The healer had begun to worry that she'd never rouse, until tonight when, out of the blue and with no prior warning, Underling Dukes had come to her with the startling news that Rogue was coming to at last.
So that was how this motley crew had come to be here now, clustered around the plain bed as far as space and breathing room would allow. Naturally, Ororo and Teah were foremost, with Kurt and Kitty close behind. Jean and Jubilee remained in the background, hovering around and watching proceedings from a distance. Both Underlings Fred and Tabby had been sent off on respective tasks to 'keep them occupied' as Ororo put it, or 'get them out from under my feet' as Teah preferred.
The last sliver of sunlight peeked over the horizon, lighting the room with a ruddy glow. Teah rose with a grunt and retrieved a torch from the wall. She cursed under her breath as she fumbled with a flint from her desk, until Jubilee stepped forward and lit it with a small, colourful blast from her fingertip. She seemed quite pleased at her own control, but said nothing. With a crackle the torch burst into life, casting a warm blush about the space and the anxious faces in it. Nobody looked up, and Teah returned to her place with a sigh.
The vigil went on.
Suddenly, Rogue began to shuffle. Her body trembled ever so slightly, and her lips parted to whisper something inaudible. Everyone craned his or her neck, hoping fervently it meant she was about to reawaken. Yet no further movement ensued, and gradually everyone fell back into the accustomed positions they'd assumed in the past few hours.
All of them, that is, except for Jean. The redheaded girl remained alert, her face contorted into a mask of vague discomfort and pain. With a harsh intake of breath, she pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging the skin in a vain attempt to alleviate gathering tension.
Kurt's head snapped around, hypersensitive ears twitching. "Are you all right, Frauline Rotkopf?"
"Yeah," Jean replied, waving a dismissive hand at him.
"Only, you look a little peaky -"
"No, really, I'm fine. Just a bit woozy, is all," she assured. Looking up, however, she instantly met Ororo's reproving gaze. Something in the older woman's eyes made her squirm, and she found herself sheepishly admitting, "Well, actually, I'm, uh... feeling a disturbance. In the air, that is."
"Disturbance?" Kitty swivelled to look.
Jean explained. "A psychic disturbance. It's only faint, but it's growing. I can't sense yet where it's coming from, but it's... it's weird. Like... I don't know quite how to explain it. I keep getting flashes of things - pictures, sounds, smells. Very lucid, but very brief."
"What sort of things?" Ororo asked, folding her hands into the sleeves of her robe.
The acolyte closed her eyes, frowning slightly. "Burning. I can smell burning. And there's shouting, coming closer. Running. I can feel my feet pounding as I run, even though I know I'm really standing still. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. Too many to face. Panic! Panic!"
"Jean!" Ororo's commanding voice broke through her trance, and Jean's eyes snapped open with not a little relief.
"Whoa, sorry about that. I guess I kinda got caught up in the Visions. They were so real; like they were actually, physically happening to me. I've never felt anything quite like *that* before. And, somehow, I got the distinct impression that they weren't being broadcast on purpose. Kind of like a subconscious relay of mental images. Except that I've seen mental images before, and there's never been anything quite so *vivid*..."
"Could they be memories?" Teah chipped in, joining in the conversation for want of something better to do.
Jean looked thoughtful. "I don't know. I suppose they could be, but they're very clear. Usually memories get hazy as the person they belong to gets older. There was nothing hazy about these flashes."
"Is the disturbance still growing?" The healer's tone was speculative.
"Yes. Why?"
"Because of that." She indicated to the pillow, where Rogue's head was rocking from side to side again. She was murmuring, forehead puckered with lines, like she was concentrating very hard. "Do you think it could be connected? I may just be grasping at straws, here, but we have to explore every avenue."
"I... I don't know. I *suppose* it could be possible," Jean conceded, "but it's difficult to tell. I don't want to telepathically reach out to Rogue because of the mental barriers she's set up. They're powerful enough to kill a person if approached the wrong way." She frowned, and rubbed the sides of her head again. "Ugh, these images are clearer than ever. I keep hearing individual words, but I don't understand what they mean. I... I feel the pain of the one broadcasting these things now. The mind is raw, like someone's reopened old emotional wounds as well as causing new ones. It's intense, I can tell you. I... urgh!"
She swayed for a moment, gripping her skull in both hands. Jubilee, the closest, darted forward and propped her up with her arms, but the taller girl didn't acknowledge the gesture. She was too caught up in what her psyche was inadvertently receiving, and wavered from side to side like a drunken reprobate.
"Alone. So alone. Everything... everyone gone. Running. Things... can see things. Such things... Scenery. Too fast, too fast. Can't make out anything. Where am I? Recognise... falling. I'm sorry... so sorry. Never told you... Pietro. I see darkness, and then..." She gasped, struggling for breath.
Not knowing what else to do, Jubilee did as she would have done for any choking person and slapped the telepath on the back. Jean's eyes once again popped open instantaneously, only this time they were filled with unmistakable fear.
"Jean, what did you see?" Ororo was at her side in a second, and guiding her back to her own chair next to the bed.
"It was... it was horrible," Jean gulped, eyes so wide whites dwarfed the green. "I saw blood... so much blood. It was like a red river, and it was all running through my fingers. I couldn't stop it; it just kept coming, even when I tried to find the source so I could stem it. And the bodies. The bodies kept falling... over... the edge... help!" She struggled against the older woman's hold, fighting her way backwards and bumping into Jubilee in the process.
"What the - " exclaimed the younger girl, stumbling into a grunt instead of a very bad word.
"Jean, what is it?" Ororo asked, brows knitted with obvious alarm. Somehow that didn't comfort anyone else in the room. "What's wrong?"
"I... I can't go any closer... the images... they get worse the... the closer I ... get. Oh, help me! *Help* *me*!" Jean clutched at her head, shaking it from side to side. Her pain-filled voice took on the manner of a frightened child, and she cried out for aid that none of the non-telepathic knew how to administer. "Make them go away. Please. They're too... too... Get out of my head! Leave me alone! You aren't *my* memories. Why are you inside my head? Get out! Get... *out*!"
Ororo reached for her again, heedless of the flailing arms and capturing the distressed Jean in an embrace usually reserved for small children. "Shhh, shhh," she woman whispered. "Hush, Jean. Hush. It's all right, it's all right."
Unnoticed to the others, a significant look passed between Kurt and Kitty. One memory, shared by both of them, had simultaneously recovered itself at something the telepath had unknowingly said. Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow, and Kitty nodded decisively.
Kurt swivelled round on his perch. "Ororo, they're hers."
The Temple Mother looked at him, arms full of a near-weeping Jean, trying fruitlessly to console her. "Pardon?"
"The images Jean is seeing. They *have* to belong to Rogue."
Ororo blinked in semi-confusion. "How can you be certain?" was all she asked.
"Because of something that happened in Zanninsa," Kitty chimed in. "You remember we told you that we met Rogue's old mentor from The Guild of Assassins there?"
"Yes."
"Well, when he told her to go to Belvedere, he said she'd want to go because somebody called 'Pietro' is there. She said it was someone she, like, used to know from her days as an assassin, and since it's not exactly a common name, we reckon that the things Jean's picking up are Rogue's thoughts and memories."
"It's possible," Ororo granted. A lock of white strayed across her face, and she turned to the juddering girl clutching so desperately at her. "Jean. Jean, I need you to listen to me. Can you hear me, child? Are you still there?"
Jean sniffed. "Yes, I'm still here. But I keep seeing... keep seeing them. They won't go away."
"That's good, Jean. It's important you can still sense those things. Child, I need you to focus on something for me. It'll help you to get rid of the images. Can you do that for me? Can you?"
Jean turned her face to look up into Ororo's. "Anything," she murmured. "Anything to get rid of the blood in my head."
Kurt recoiled. She sounded so desperate. _But she was absolutely fine a few minutes ago. How can this be happening so *fast*? There was no warning. Is it... could it be because Rogue's close to waking up?_ Then another, rather more unpleasant notion crossed his psyche, causing him to shiver. _If Rogue *does* wake up, will the images then leave Jean's mind alone?_
"Jean," Ororo went on, gently stroking the crown of red in a soothing action, "reach out to the images; embrace them. Don't drive them away. Call to them. Let them know you can hear them."
Green eyes went wide. "But they *hurt*," Jean whispered, sounding like nothing so much as a frightened infant. "They hurt so *much*. I... I don't know if I can. I don't know if I want to..."
"Jean, the only way they'll leave is if you embrace them to yourself. Let the owner of them know she's not alone; that someone can hear her, and is willing to help. Touch them. Draw them out. Feel them as if they were your own memories, thoughts and dreams. Hold them to your mind as I'm holding you now. Do it, Jean. Help yourself by helping her." Ororo smiled encouragingly.
Jean swallowed, throat bobbing uncertainly. Her mouth was dry, and her gullet constricted at the masochistic idea of actually inviting those terrible picture back into her head. Yet if that was the way to get rid of them... Ororo was wise. She always knew what to do in situations like this, didn't she? Perhaps... perhaps she should listen...?
"All right."
That strange, proud smile the Temple Mother reserved solely for her appeared, and Jean felt the familiar uplifting glow it incited. Maybe she *could* do this. If Ororo believed that she could, then maybe, just maybe, there was something to the idea of embracing that harsh, aggrieved mind one more time; a mind so filled with horrors and past austerity that they dwarfed all positive emotions to near-invisibility, burying them in a thick blanket of pain, loss and anger.
A shiver ran the length of her spine, but she drew herself up to her full height and pushed away to stand on her own. With a perfunctory nod and a wince, Jean closed her eyes.
Mentally, she called to the images she'd kept at bay, teasing them forward gently, reassuringly. They hovered at the edge of her telepathic mind, wary of her sudden change. She assured them she meant no harm, and that they could find a home in her if they wished. Still they wavered, unsure of her true intentions. Even without a conscious mind to guide them, they still retained the same aura of wariness that had kept their owner alive for so long.
Jean showed them pictures from her own mind; warm memories of her past, intended to demonstrate that she was no threat and meant no harm.
They peered forward nervously, yet with almost tangible interest at what she brought forth, and Jean could feel the wonder at seeing something so different then what they were used to. Growing up as a child in her village. Being tucked in at night by her mother, an affectionate kiss planted upon her forehead. Playing in the meadow with her friends, grass tickling her nose until she sneezed. The first berries of spring, tender-purple and juicy between her teeth. Her memories positively glowed with warmth and contentment, and she could feel the hovering presence creep forward despite itself.
She continued with the assortment of memories, hoping to gain its trust enough to dissuade suspicion and welcome it in. A mixture of distrust and curiosity permeated her senses.
And something else too.
It was vague, but she sensed it all the same, and probed gently until it showed itself.
Shock flooded through her. This couldn't be right, could it? If this really was the unconscious presence of The Rogue of The Guild of Assassins, then this kind of emotion was incongruous and out of place.
Yet it remained; still and faint, but there nonetheless, mentally replying to Jean's happy memories and innocent childhood exploits. Could that really be... yearning?
The presence crawled at a snail's pace, and Jean hailed it with proverbial open arms. Tentatively, it reached out for one of her recollections; the one of her first kiss, only a few months ago now, before her village was destroyed and her life changed. The memory of warm lips against Jean's own was pushed forward like an offering, and in a manner akin to a cat's paw in water, the presence touched it.
All at once white-hot pain erupted in the telepath's skull. It blotted out everything, until all she was left with were a jumble of memories and half-remembered thoughts. Some were her own, some were not, and they whirled around inside her head like a jabbering maelstrom, pummelling her extra-sensitive psyche with images so torturous and streaked with red that she screamed as if her heart was being torn out whole.
Jean was vaguely aware of hands clutching her shoulders, holding her up; but everything was so distorted it might have been a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Voices echoed inside her brain, reverberating and shouting back at themselves to make a cacophony of chaotic sound. Yet nothing could stop the pain from spreading.
It was too much. She could feel herself fading, cracking under the intensity of bearing two sets of memories. Too much to bear. Too much. And it *hurt*. It hurt so *much* that she wanted to just sit down in a corner and cry.
Desperately, Jean reached out for something - anything - to stop the agony. Her mental fingers caught hold, and she clung on with all her telepathic might, willing herself not to let go. Indistinctly, she felt surprise from that at which she clutched, brief and distant. However, soon it, too, was lost in the whirlwind of blinding, irrefutable pain.
And then she was falling.
*******************
"Jean? *Jean*?" Jubilee called desperately. The older girl's weight was almost crushing her, but she struggled gamely to stay upright, always shouting her name.
Jean slumped against her, oblivious to the world and everything in it, eyes closed as if in sudden sleep.
Kurt dashed forward, catching the redhead as she began to tumble and wrapping his tail around her waist for extra support. Gently, the two of them lowered her body to the floor, and knelt by her side as suddenly harsh breathing ripped from her lungs and whimpering leaked from her mouth.
This was so unlike Jean. Kurt had only been here a few days, but the older girl had always seemed so composed whenever he saw her - always the figure of calm authority in Ororo's absence. Sometimes she seemed anxious, but this was only in her attempts to please Ororo. Never had she exhibited anything even remotely like this behaviour, and, judging by the strained the look on Jubilee's face, she'd never done it before he arrived, either.
"Jean? Oh, come on Jean. Wake up." The oriental girl gripped one of Jean's hands, holding it so tightly the blood was visibly cut off. "Ororo, was this supposed to happen? Was this part of your plan?"
Kurt looked up, and for the first time he saw something briefly flash across Ororo's face he never would've imagined in a million years.
She looked like she didn't know what to do. Confusion played about her eyes, before she schooled her face back into an expression of serenity once more, and bent down by her acolyte's side.
Respectfully, Kurt and Jubilee edged away, getting to their feet and watching what went on from a distance.
Kurt risked a glance over his shoulder. Rogue had become deathly still, and he fancied that her chest was no longer moving up and down. A knot manifested in the pit of his stomach, rising to form a strangled lump in his throat.
"Kätzchen," he hissed.
Kitty turned and gasped. "Oh no. Is she... is she breathing?"
"Ich weiss nicht. I don't know."
Teah barrelled through, all elbows and shoving hands. "Move out of the way, all of you!" she ordered tersely. "You're doing more harm than good by hanging around here. Go on, move!"
Hastily, they moved aside for her, retiring to the back of the room so as not to be in the way of either crisis. The three younger adolescents huddled together, wondering silently what to do. They each felt helpless, though their feelings went unvoiced, and the room fell into an oppressive silence, as Teah checked Rogue's motionless form for life signs, and Jean's cries abated into harsh stillness.
An overwhelming chill hung in the air, as everyone waited.
For what?
Nobody was quite sure, but they waited all the same. Waited for life? Waited for death? Waited for a return? Or perhaps a departure? All they could do was wait by the flickering light of the torch.
Suddenly, Jean coughed. A groan escaped her lips and she tried to sit up. Ororo caught her as she swayed, rubbing her back in a comforting gesture.
Hopeful, Kurt looked over to where Teah perched next to Rogue, but there was no change in the ex-assassin. She still lay, quiet and still, to all intents and purposes dead. Teah looked up, lips tightly pursed, and shook her head. The elf bit his tongue, and turned back to where Jean was struggling shakily to her feet.
Green eyes surveyed the room, faint confusion clearly visible. Jean's brows creased, and she turned to look squarely at Ororo with an expression far too harsh for such a gentle and kind girl.
"Where in all the Seven Hells am I?" she demanded weakly, voice watery but possessing a near-palpable strength of resolve.
The voice was Jean's, but the infection was not. Kurt's eyes took on the appearance of two new moons as he recognised the familiar brusque tone.
"Rogue?"
All eyes fell upon him, and he squirmed a bit under their scrutiny.
Jean gazed with blatant puzzlement showing through, shaking off Ororo's well-meaning hands. "Elf? What's goin' on? Where are we?"
"Rogue... is that you?"
"A' course it's me, y'addled fuzzball. Who else would it..." She trailed off, eyes falling upon the figure in the bed. "Oh gods!"
Instantly, she brought her hands up in front of her face, staring at her palms - Jean's palms - in dismay. They were smooth, with just a hint of calluses here and there. Long and slender, they barely resembled her own pale ones, and she turned them this way and that, disbelief clearly evident in everything she did.
"What's going on? Elf, what's happened to me? Why am I over here, and mah body's over *there*?"
"Rogue, bitte, don't be alarmed." Kurt began, stepping forward.
"Don't be alarmed, he says. Of course I'm frikkin' alarmed! It ain't every day you wake up to find outcha got a new damn body! What's happenin'? Where's the Shrimp?"
"I'm here, Rogue." Kitty joined Kurt. "And Kurt's right. Try to calm down, and we'll explain things."
"Calm down? You try calmin' down! Where am I? Who *are* all these people?"
"Freunde. You have nothing to fear from them, Rogue," Kurt assured softly, voice soothing.
Through Jean's eyes, Rogue glared back at him. "Who said anythin' about me being afraid of 'em? If they've done this to me, then I wanna take their damn heads off!"
Kitty raised her hands, as Jubilee shrank back against the wall behind them. "Whoa, Rogue. These people, like, saved your life. I think there should be a little more display of gratitude here."
"Saved mah life?" Green eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Frauline... how much do you remember?"
The tall girl blinked, opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Her expression became thoughtful, and she rubbed a hand against her head, jerking it away as if stung when it touched red hair instead of auburn.
"Last thing I remember was beddin' down in a tree near the river," she said at last. "Then I woke up to hear shoutin'. Y'all were gone, and I went to find out what the hell was goin' on. I found y'all, and I... I fought sumthin'. A creature... a creature in the river. A... Displacer Beast?" Her face turned quizzical, and both of her companions nodded vigorously.
"Ja, Frauline. You saved our lives."
"I did?"
"Uh-huh, you, like, totally showed that Displacer Beast who was boss! It was totally amazing!"
Rogue rubbed the temples of Jean's body. "I... kinda remember the battle. But after that, everything gets a bit fuzzy; like I was dreamin' or sumthin'. Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up here. Like *this*!" She gestured at herself, gaze swiftly becoming harsh. "Now, if it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate some damn answers."
"And you'll have them," Ororo put in smoothly.
Her once-apprentice glared at her. "And just who might *you* be?"
"My name is Ororo the White," the exotic woman replied, not in the slightest bit cowed by the hostile tone, "and you are The Rogue of The Guild of Assassins, are you not?"
"So what if I am?"
"Then I wish to welcome you to our humble temple." Ororo spread her arms wide as was the customary greeting. It demonstrated to people that you meant them no harm, since your chest was open at that moment, and an easy target should they choose to take advantage of it. "Although I would have preferred it if our first meeting were not under such... unusual circumstances."
The serious lines framing Rogue's - no, Jean's - eyes declined a little at this. There was something intensely familiar about this strange woman, who would leave herself open to attack from one of the most notorious killers in all Earth-Realm without a second thought. Something just beyond her reach, but tantalizingly recognizable - like the last remnants of a dream.
"This place is a temple?" she asked, stalling. "To which god?"
"None in particular. We are a peaceful sect who devote our lives to caring for others and teaching them the path to enlightenment through returning to nature." The woman smiled, showing bright white teeth. "Perhaps you've heard of us in your travels? We are known as The Temple of The Way."
A flash of recollection; part Rogue's, part something else. "Yeah, I've heard of y'all. But how did I *get* here? This place is pretty much cut off from everywhere from what I've heard."
"Your friends carried you here when you were injured."
"They did?" Rogue turned to them, incredulity momentarily taking the place of irk at the term 'friend.' "Why did y'all do sumthin' crazy like that? You woulda got a reward for takin' mah carcass to the authorities, y'know."
Kurt looked horrified. "Do you really think us so base, Frauline? We owe you our lives. The least we could do was save yours."
Rogue rubbed her temples again, slightly embarrassed and taking no pleasure in the unwelcome feeling. "But still I don't understand. I was injured?"
Kitty's head bobbed up and down. "Rogue, you were poisoned by the Displacer Beast's spines," she said softly. "We... we didn't know if you were going to make it. But Kurt refused to give up. He carried you himself, and I held your armour, and we searched for help. Neither of us could go on much longer when we found this place. Jean guided us here - she's the owner of the body you're in now."
Jean? The name sounded familiar, though she couldn't think why. Jean. Jean. Jean... Was that really the girl whose body she now inhabited? But how? And why?
"That still doesn't answer mah original question, Shrimp," Rogue growled. "Why in all the Hells am I in *this* body instead of mah own?"
The small blonde child on the bed hopped off and walked towards her in a purposeful manner. Rogue didn't like children at the best of times - not that this was anywhere approaching the best of times. They were too bright and cocky by half; and always, *always* too cheerful. They reminded her of things she'd rather forget about her own tough upbringing.
She was surprised when this one spoke in a firm, all-too-adult voice, belying her immature body.
"Look, I'll give it to you straight. When you first arrived at the temple you'd been poisoned. I'm the healer here, and I removed it from your system. However, afterwards it was discovered that you were also suffering from Shaking Sickness, which I couldn't heal because my energy reserves were too depleted."
Rogue started. Shaking Sickness? She looked at the hands that weren't her own once more. Was that why she was now in someone else's body? She'd heard tales from the East of powerful mages who shared mortal shells with loved ones when their own bodies could no longer house their souls for one reason or another. But... she didn't know this 'Jean' person at all, and such occurrences required a union of souls to form a singular, new person. She was still quite herself, just in the wrong place.
So where was Jean?
Rogue shook her head to dispel these unwanted reflections, and strands of red hair brushed her cheek, making her lip quiver in disgust. All at once she didn't care who this Jean person was or why she was sharing her body. Rogue just wanted out and back into her own - *now*!
"Did I die? Is that why mah body isn't mine anymore?"
"Gods, no. You recovered well. It was quite amazing really. But you remained unconscious no matter what we did." The little girl's eyes flashed. "That is, until tonight. You showed the first signs of waking earlier this evening. Jean is a telepath, and she tried to help you, but something went wrong and you woke up in her body instead of your own." She folded her arms. "So now you know the how, but I'm at a loss to explain the why behind this." She curled her own lip in such a way as indicated she liked telepathy as much as Rogue liked children.
Rogue blinked, information seeping into her brain, though much of it she didn't understand.
_Telepath? Is she a Changeling then? Who is this kid? I recovered from *Shaking Sickness* without a healer? How the heck did I do that? It's impossible - _
Kurt cleared his throat. "Is there any way we can change them back?"
"That depends. We don't even know if Jean is *in* there or not anymore. She may have been just blinked out of existence when your friend here took her place."
An oriental girl in the corner emitted a strangled gasp. "Oh no! Poor Jean!"
Something tugged at the fringes of Rogue's mind; something quite insistent that refused to go away no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It was a strange sensation, almost like hearing a quiet person call from far away.
She closed her eyes for a moment, focussing on it. For some inexplicable reason, she sensed that it was important, and scrunched up her face in concentration.
"Rogue, are you okay?"
"She's still here."
"What?" The Shrimp's voice was puzzled, and Rogue opened her eyes.
"The real owner of this body. This 'Jean' y'all keep talking about. She's still here. I can feel her - inside mah head."
At once the blonde healer became stern, stepping forward and reaching to take one of Rogue's hands in her own. Rogue yanked it away, but the child seemed not to notice the unreceptive action, and babbled on regardless.
"In that case, it's imperative that we return you to your rightful forms as soon as possible. With Jean's telepathic abilities, it may just be possible. Can you talk to her?"
"Nah. It's more of a feelin'. I can sense her more than hear her."
"Try to sense her, then. Call her with your mind. She'll know what to do if she's got any intelligence."
Rogue cast a sceptical look around her. _Call her with mah *mind*? Just what kind of a dumb-ass order is that?_
Her gaze abruptly fell upon the Elf and the Shrimp. Their eyes were pleading, matching each other perfectly in their silent request for her to just do what she was told without her usual brusqueness and penchant for violence. Gold and blue stared at her, willing her for once in her life to listen to someone else.
Something unidentifiable stirred within her heart at their incongruous concern. She was The Rogue. They were supposed to fear and hate her, not care for her well-being. That wasn't the way things were supposed to be.
The healer tapped her foot, impatient. "Well? Hurry up. We haven't much time. I'm guessing Jean's hold isn't very strong, since she has no actual body to attach herself to."
Rogue curled her lip in a snarl, but let the urge to rip out the healer's throat slide. Instead, grumpy resignation took its place.
_Then again, when have I ever been one to do things by the book?_
She closed her eyes and thought of the telepath's name. She didn't know if it was the right thing to do or not, but did it all the same, thinking as loudly as she could.
_Jean? Jean, are y'all there? Jean, come here. Come here now, damnit! Your friends out here wantcha back, and I wanna go back to mah own body. Jean, come here, damn you!_
On the outside everybody waited.
At first there was no discernable change to Jean's body. It simply stood there, eyelids firmly shut, brooking no visitors. It was impossible to tell just who was in residence, and Kurt's sharp sight traced the faint blue veins pulsing against her skin as he searched for some sign of what was going on.
Everyone gathered in the room held a collective breath, lungs bursting, but refusing to let it go lest something happen and they miss it on the exhale.
Suddenly, the girl's left hand twitched. It clenched into a fist, fingernails digging into the palm and leaving small, half-moon shaped marks in the skin. All of them craned their necks, waiting for another screaming outburst like the one that had signified the switch earlier, but nothing of the sort came to pass, and all they were left with was an eerie silence and almost palpable sense of anti-climax.
For a long moment nothing happened. Then, the face scrunched once, and the harsh wrinkles of Rogue's ill-concealed frown immediately evened out, like someone trying on a set of clothing, and smoothing out the creases to their liking. A small sigh escaped the lips, and gentle green eyes slowly opened.
A smile tweaked the corners of her mouth. "I'm back."
"Jean!" Jubilee fairly launched herself at the older girl, catching her in an embrace that simultaneously cut off her windpipe and sent her staggering backwards.
"Jubilee, I didn't know you cared," Jean choked, not unkindly.
"Of course I cared, idiot. You're my friend. I thought you were gone forever!"
"So did I." A wry expression twisted Jean's pretty face. "Remind me never to do anything like that again."
"Are you all right, my child?" Ororo gently prized the over-excited adolescent off and faced her acolyte.
Jean rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah. That was definitely an... interesting experience, and not one I'd care to repeat. You can tell your friend, The Rogue, that her mental voice is very, *very* loud!" This last comment was directed at Kurt and Kitty. However Jean's face changed into a mask of bemusement, because the pair were suddenly not there.
A quick glance revealed them on either side of The Rogue's bed, each holding a pale hand clutched in their own. The ex-assassin was as still and silent as the grave, not even a flicker of life crossing her eyelids.
Jean walked towards them. "But I helped her to get back. I *know* she's returned to her own body. I *put* her there and helped her to take down the mental barriers from the inside. She should be waking up just like me."
Neither Kitty nor Kurt looked up. Their gazes were both fixed intently on their companion's face, the dying hope on their own tragically apparent.
"Rogue, please wake up. *Please*." Kitty's voice hitched in her gullet, and she tenderly stroked the other girl's hand like it was a lost and frightened animal.
Kurt stared at her through serious golden eyes, an angry whisper slipping off his tongue. "You have to come back to us, Rogue. You have to come back." He blinked back tears, the fur beneath his eyes dampening. "I'll never forgive you if you don't. You *have* to come back to us."
Somewhere, in the deep recesses of a place unknown, yet startlingly familiar, his call was heard.
And heeded.
*******************
"You got real talent, Marie, and the potential to go far in the Guild. But it ain't gonna happen if ya don't stop closing up your ears and start listening to me when I'm trying to teach ya stuff. I know for a fact that ya could beat any other pupil in the entire Guild, but it ain't good enough. Until ya got the right attitude, ya might as well be some penny-per-dozen rent-a-blade. A *mercenary*!"
Logan's face, sneering through the all-encompassing darkness. Shafts of metal snake back into his fist, and then I'm running.
Running.
I'm always running.
"You know Emilios. Unless I'm beating you, he isn't interested in any progress I've made. Sometimes I think he'll be dissatisfied with me until I put you six feet under. This rivalry with Logan can be a real drag."
Pietro? How can you be here? And so young. A little boy, scuffing his feet on the ground and looking furtively at me. He's ashamed of what he's saying. He's ashamed of what his mentor makes him do.
Pietro. I forgive you. I know you don't really feel that way.
Now he's older, craning his neck out over the edge of the cliff. I can see him. Sea-spray cuts my face. I can smell the salt. Down here! I'm down here! Please don't leave me here to die like this! Pietro! Pietro!
"Take my hand! It's the only way, Marie!"
"I'll fall!"
"No, you won't! I won't let you! Trust me."
I do trust you - I do! Please help me. Don't leave me alone like this.
Older still, and with a sword of his own. He looks so sad. But all I can feel is bitterness and anger.
He's leaving me. After all we've been through together - all the private training, all the comforting each other; nights alone in my chambers, hiding you from Emilios' wrath. I remember. But it all means nothing to you. You're leaving me anyway. Leaving me all alone.
"You're gonna go anyway, no matter what I say. So just go now, and spare me your insincere goodbyes. I don't wanna here them!"
White hair, and sad, sad blue eyes. I've hurt him. I can see it. And my words hurt me too. I don't want you to go, Pietro. I want you to stay - to *stay* here with me! I want you to know how I feel, but I just can't get the words out.
"Marie, I'd never leave you. This Erik may be my father, but I'd never put anyone above you. Never! I... I care too much to do that to you."
You care about me? Surprise. Shock. I don't know what to feel. You *care* about me? I want to tell you the same, but my mouth won't make the words.
Warm lips on mine. The smell of sawdust in my nose. And his smell. The faint scent of flowers. Strange. The Guild doesn't have many flowers, but you always smell of them, all year round. New life. Your life. My life. Our lives.
"I'll come back."
Another face, old and sneering through his beard. The smell of incense. It's overpowering in here. A fire crackles in the grate, but it offers no comfort. I still feel cold because of what Maxor's telling me to do.
"Logan the Swift has been sticking his Wolverinnen nose where it's not wanted. He's somehow got hold of information that may effectively collapse the delicate situation with our... benefactor, if it ever got out. And I *know* that he means for it to get out."
Logan. They want me to kill Logan. They want me to betray someone I love for their own personal gain.
Shining... sword-blade... a precious metal... dangerous... 'politics'... something about silver... silver... silver...
Silver Sword!
"Don't you know what'll happen if you ally The Guild of Assassins with The Silver Sword? We'll lose our identity. He'll crush us out of existence and put us to work in his armies and mines. Is that what you want?"
And then I'm running again. I'm always running. Always.
"You are *outcast*."
Someone chasing me. Hot on my heels. The smell of salt again. I know where I am. Just a little bit further. Just a little bit...
Blood. Fight. Hurt. Parry. Thrust. Strike. Stab. Cleave. Scream. Bodies. Corpses. Shouting. Baying for blood. For *my* blood.
Come and get me then, Pebehocks! Let's see what you're made of!
Pietro. I'm sorry. I never told you that I love you. I could never say the words. I only wish I could see you again, to tell you what I feel. But I can't. It's too late for me. I'm nothing now. Just a scrap on the wind. An outcast. A Rogue.
"Sorry boys, but I choose mah own path!"
Falling. Falling. Down, down, down. Shouting behind me, but I don't care. I've cheated them. Cheated them out of their prize. I smile.
Pietro, I'm sorry.
Then blackness, and swirling pain I can't escape. I'm battered from side to side, washed away by the fate of my own choosing. The path that I walk for myself.
So much pain.
"Rogue. Please wake up. *Please*."
Who's that? Someone calling me? A girl. She sounds so sad. Who would be sad for me? I'm nothing. Nobody. The only ones who ever cared for me are gone.
"You have to come back to us, Rogue."
Someone else too. Male. He's crying. Crying... for me?
"You have to come back."
Come back?
Yes.
I want to come back. I want to go back to the light. I don't want to be in the darkness anymore. I've found my answers in the darkness, just like Mystique and The Powers That Be said I would. I remember. I remember everything I wanted to forget. I'm ready to go back.
"You *have* to come back to us."
I'm ready now. I remember. The Guild of Assassins. The Combat Arena. The cliff-top. Training. Being cast out. Emilios. Maxor. Logan. Pietro
Pietro.
I'll find you again, I promise.
I'm sorry.
And I love you.
*******************
Rogue sat bolt upright, a scream hovering on her lips. Her hands were tied. She couldn't get them loose. Desperately she struggled against the bonds that imprisoned her.
"Frauline! Rogue! It's us!"
"Rogue, stop it. Please!"
The Elf? And the Shrimp? They were holding her hands, concern and worry etched into their oh-so-different faces. She could feel the soft fur of one, and the cold clamminess of the other.
The aftermath of the flood of memories washed over her, taking her breath away with its intensity, so that she flopped back into the damp embrace of the bed she now found herself in. Sweat slicked her entire body; a cold sheen that made her stick to the sheets and their skin alike.
"Frauline, are you all right?" Golden eyes, so filled with worry, stared down at her, closely followed by a pair of equally worried blue.
Blue eyes.
At once a long-forgotten image filled her battered mind; that of a small boy, wan face framed by snowy hair, two sapphires blazing out at her. Were it not for them then he would have appeared dead, he was so pale; but his eyes possessed a spark all of their own. A spark she'd pushed away for so long because it was too painful to remember; too painful to recall what she'd lost; what she'd left behind.
Suddenly it was too much. An incongruous desire to share her pain brimmed inside Rogue, as she gazed up into the two faces that had cared for her and showed her compassion despite her identity and detestable behaviour. She'd shown them revulsion, and they'd replied by saving her life. She'd insulted them, and they'd given her kind words. She'd threatened them, and they'd just kept coming back, refusing to leave her alone.
Alone.
So terribly, terribly alone.
Was that it? Was she lonely?
How absurd. Assassins didn't get lonely.
But she wasn't an assassin. Not anymore. And she *was* lonely.
She looked up at them, at their young, anxious faces. They didn't care what she'd done or what she was. They only cared about *her* as a person. That was something only two people had ever done in her life before.
The Shrimp - no, Kitty - was drawn and pale, many sleepless nights plain to be seen. The Elf - no, Kurt - he was... he was *crying*? He was crying... for her?
Emotion brimmed inside Rogue's heart, pounding against the wall of stoic indifference she'd cultivated for so long.
Her ice-queen exterior cracked.
_No more secrets. No more lies._
A weak croak lilted from her underused throat, and both Kurt and Kitty leaned closer to hear what she said.
"There's... some things... I need... to tell y'all..."
*******************
To Be Continued...
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