Westchester, NY
Xavier Institute
There was an eerie stillness to the mansion when she returned.
Silence greeted her when she stepped through the front door, and the sound of the door closing behind her echoed through the grand foyer, reverberating off of the old oak walls.
It was unnatural, and it sent a small shiver through Rogue's body.
The Xavier Institute was rarely quiet, it was a place of commotion and noise, with the students rushing about, often putting their powers on display, and the instructors trying to maintain some semblance of order.
Right about now, Ororo should have been coming down the main stairs.
Scott should have been teaching a class, and Jean should have been down in the lab with the physics students, and the Professor's psychic voice should have been welcoming her home.
Like it any other day, the way it was supposed to be.
But there would never be a day like that again.
Because Scott was dead and Professor Xavier was dead, and Jean had killed them both.
It still seemed so unreal, so impossible, that Rogue still had a hard time believing it. How could Scott be dead? How could Xavier be dead?
The Professor had always seemed so untouchable, like a god that deigned to walk among mortals. He was the one steady constant in her life, and in the lives of all his students, whose mutations had turned their worlds upside down, she'd thought he'd be around forever.
It had never occurred to her that he could die, just like everyone else.
And Jean, one of his earliest students, had murdered him.
Disintegrated him.
Logan had seen it, he wouldn't talk about it, but there hadn't even been a body.
Nothing left to bury beneath the tombstone.
Just an empty grave, like the one they'd made for Scott.
Back when she first arrived at the Institute, Rogue had been determined not to like Scott Summers, simply because Logan didn't. In time, though, she'd discovered it was hard not to like the stoic leader of the X-men. Scott was always so serious, so collected, that it made it easy to assume there was no personality beneath the ruby-quartz glasses, but he had a good heart, and he'd never flinched away from her skin like others in the mansion had during her early days there. He knew something about having a deadly power that you couldn't control on your own, after all, and he'd never been too busy if she needed some help with her homework.
He was the guy next door, the reliable guy you couldn't help but root for.
And the woman he loved had killed him.
They were supposed to get married, Rogue thought numbly, shaking the white streaks of her hair away from her eyes as she started down the hall. They were supposed to live happily ever after.
But, as she was fast learning, happy endings were a rarity for people like them.
In the distance, she could hear the television on in the lounge, and headed in that direction, figuring that was where she would find the student body.
And she was right.
The lounge was crowded; students of all ages sat perched on armrests, huddled on the floor, crammed onto the couches and armchairs. Their gazes were all locked dead ahead on the large flat screen television that stretched across the far wall, and Rogue doubted that any of them even noticed her arrival.
Save for one.
"You're back, huh?"
Turning, Rogue fixed Jubilee with a small, hesitant smile. "Yeah."
Jubilee, never one for subtlety, eyed her gloves and arched an eyebrow imperiously, blowing a bubble with her gum. "Didn't get the drug?"
"Couldn't do it," Rogue admitted ruefully.
"We would have supported you if you did, you know that, right?" Jubilee asked.
"I know," Rogue assured her, then gave a shake of her head. "I don't think I've ever seen this place so quiet."
"Total bummer," Jubilee agreed. "The X-men took off, Storm left me in charge of the brats while they're gone. The younger ones probably shouldn't be watching, but there's no tearing them away from the tv."
With that, Rogue finally turned her attention fully to the television and was taken aback by the scene flashing across the screen. Mangled destruction, military helicopters... and, after a moment where her stunned mind refused to process what she was seeing, the twisted remains of what was once the Golden Gate Bridge.
And, as the camera panned to show what had become of the rest of the bridge...
Rogue drew a sharp breath, catching sight of Magneto.
On either side, a familiar face.
People she'd once trusted, cared for.
"Crazy, huh?" Jubilee said, following her gaze. "Pyro and Doc Grey, both. The whole world's gone to hell."
Or at least all of San Francisco.
Magneto's army was big, bigger than Rogue would have expected, a mob so large that their numbers couldn't be fully captured on the television screen.
All of them mutants, each armed with powers, angry about the cure and full of anger at humanity.
Each of them ready to kill for their cause.
And Logan, Bobby and the others were about to walk right into the thick of it.
Rogue turned and fled the lounge at a brisk pace, barely aware of Jubilee calling her name. "Stay with the kids," she called without looking back, and hurried down the hall in the direction of the elevator.
Ah should have been here, she thought, angrily punching the down button.
The doors slid open and she slipped inside, pressing her thumb against the panel to gain access to the lower levels of the mansion.
Just as the doors started to close again, an arm shoved itself in the gap.
Startled, Rogue stared as the face of Warren Worthington III as the winged boy pushed the doors the rest of the way open.
"I need to come with you," he said without preamble.
"Who says I'm going anywhere?" Rogue retorted, folding her arms.
Warren stepped into the elevator, ignoring her glare, and the doors closed behind him. "I can help," he insisted, and the elevator started its descent. "I know San Francisco, and I can fight."
Rogue pursed her lips for a moment, wishing Ororo was there.
This kid had wings, and probably knew how to use them in ways she couldn't imagine, but he was still just a rich kid from California. He'd probably never even been in a fistfight, much less in a battle situation where his life would be on the line.
But he was right, she was going to need help.
"It's not going to be pretty," she warned.
Warren's jaw clenched. "My dad is there," he said, as if that explained everything.
And oddly enough it did.
Funny, Rogue thought as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Mine, too- or close enough, anyway.
Without a word, she strode out of the elevator and headed for the hangar.
She paused as they passed the lockers, but they couldn't afford to wait any longer. Changing into her uniform would waste valuable time, time that they didn't have to spare, so she continued on toward the far end of the hangar.
The Blackbird II, a smaller version of the X-jet the team used on a regular basis, was right there waiting, but she couldn't help the twinge of anxiety in her stomach.
She'd had some flying lessons since Alkali Lake, Ororo had thought it was a good idea after her... interesting rescue flight, but she'd never flown alone, and she hadn't touched the controls of the Blackbird II, even if Ororo claimed they were nearly identical to the ones on the X-jet.
Let's get this over with, Rogue thought, taking a deep breath and marching toward the jet.
The ramp lowered as soon as her hand touched the pad outside of the hatch and she bounded up it and made her way into the cockpit, with Warren at her heels.
With trembling hands, she lowered herself into the pilot's seat and reached for the controls.
"Uh, this might be a stupid question," Warren cleared his throat. "But can you fly this thing?"
"We'll find out, won't we?" Rogue muttered under her breath.
"I can," Warren said quickly, and when she jerked her head up to look at him he shifted sheepishly. "Planes, I mean. I took flying lessons when I was younger."
Before or after the wings sprouted? Rogue wondered, but she kept that to herself.
Instead, she quickly vacated the pilot's seat, turning the controls over to him, and took the co-pilot's chair as he went through the pre-flight checks. Once the engine was ready, he looked around the hangar, as if trying to find the door, and Rogue allowed herself a wry smile, remembering her own first visit to the X-hangar.
Then she reached over to press a button on the display console, and overhead the hangar ceiling began to slide open. "Can you take us up okay?" she asked, doubting he'd ever flown out of an underground hangar.
"Yeah," Warren replied. "I think so."
Buckling her safety harness, Rogue hoped she wasn't going to have to explain to Ororo how the Blackbird II lost its wings.
But true to his word, Warren got out of the hangar without a scratch, and, once they activated the sonic speed, they were zooming across the country towards the West Coast. There were all sorts of rumors about the technology Xavier had access to at the Institute, the most popular theory being that it was alien technology and that was why the jets could reach such incredible speeds.
Bobby and John had always been big proponents of the alien theory.
How many times had they driven her crazy by getting into an in-depth conversation about all the different theories they had on Xavier's connections to an alien race?
At some point, Rogue would always interrupt, rolling her eyes, and tell them to grow up.
But now she just wished they could go back to those days.
Back when life was simple and the good guys stayed good and strong and alive, back when the biggest worry any of them had was whether or not they were going to flunk the next test Ororo gave them.
When did life get so hard? Rogue wondered.
It had hurt when they realized that John had left with Magneto at Alkali Lake, but in hindsight they should have seen it coming.
She'd asked Bobby once what would happen, if they had to fight John one day, and Bobby had assured her it wouldn't come to that, that John would be back. He'd been trying to convince himself just as much as her, but they'd both known all along it was a lie.
John wasn't coming back.
He'd made his choice, and now they were all going to have to live with it.
Oh, Bobby, Rogue thought. Be careful.
She knew better than anyone how easily her boyfriend could lose his head when it came to John, their pyromaniac friend had always been highly adept at pushing Bobby's buttons.
If he got himself killed because he was distracted by John's taunting she would never forgive him.
And she'd never forgive herself, either, for not being there.
Things between them had been so uncertain lately, she'd seen the stolen glances with Kitty and knew that he was just as frustrated as she was by their inability to touch each other, and the cure had seemed like a perfect solution to all their problems.
Now, with the possibility that she might very well never be able to touch him, Rogue didn't know where their future was going.
But if Bobby died, that future would die with him.
He wasn't the only one in danger, though, and Rogue felt selfish for thinking only of her boyfriend when the rest of the X-men were just as likely to lose their lives.
Ororo was her teacher, her mentor, and even though they disagreed about the cure, Rogue couldn't imagine not being able to turn to the older woman for advice or just an ear to listen whenever she needed to talk. The Institute needed Ororo, she was all the students had left.
She didn't really know Mr. McCoy, but he was kind and jovial and smart, and she wanted to be able to get to know him.
Peter was her friend, her silent protector. They were partners in the Danger Room, a study team in history class, confidants over rocky road ice cream at three in the morning. He'd just begun teaching her Russian, she'd never master the difficult language without him.
And Kitty...
Rogue liked her. She didn't want to, and she'd tried really hard to hate the younger girl once she noticed the flirting between her and Bobby, but Kitty was one of those people that it was just impossible to hate. She was smart, downright brainy in fact, and funny and cool, and if things were different Rogue thought they might very well have been best friends in another life.
And even though Logan's healing factor meant he could take care of himself, she still worried for him. They'd started this journey together, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye to him yet.
She wasn't ready to say goodbye to any of them.
They'd said too many goodbyes already.
Rogue remained lost in thought for most of the trip, worrying about the X-men and wondering whether or not Jean Grey could still be saved, thinking about how broken Scott had been after Alkali Lake, like a ghost of his old self, and how the Professor had laid his hand on her gloved one after the news of the cure broke, silent and supportive.
"You're still wearing gloves."
Blinking, Rogue looked up at Warren, who was looking at her from the corner of his eye even as he watched the skies ahead, and she wondered if he had bird vision to go with the feathers and wings.
"I couldn't go through with it," she murmured.
"Me either."
She looked up at him inquisitively, and Warren gave her a rueful smile.
"My dad invented the cure because of me," he told her. "Because he was ashamed of my wings. He just wanted me to be normal, like everyone else. And when I was little, I guess I wanted that, too. When my wings started to grow, I was scared and I hated them. I even tried to cut them off. But now... I can fly. I can soar through the clouds and feel the wind in my hair, and I can fly. My dad had everything all set up to give me the cure, and I chickened out at the last minute. I realized that I can live with looking like a freak, but I can't live without my wings."
"You don't," Rogue said softly, and when he looked at her she clarified. "Look like a freak. You look... you look like an angel."
"An angel?" Warren echoed, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
"I'm sure it would be a hit with the girls," Rogue retorted, and found herself gifting him with a full, beaming smile that seemed out of place at a time like this. "Angel."
Warren just chuckled. "Angel," he mused. "Kind of has a nice ring to it."
The skyline of San Francisco came into view a few moments later, and Rogue felt her stomach knot in dread as she caught sight of the smoke billowing in the distance. "Oh," she whispered. Bobby, Logan...
"I don't think we should try to land on Alcatraz," Warren said grimly, staring into the distance as if he could see further than she could. " I'll land on the outskirts of town, and then I can fly us out to Alcatraz myself." He must have seen the skeptical look on her face, because he gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry, I've never dropped anyone."
"Have you ever carried anyone in the first place?" Rogue demanded as he turned the jet towards the far side of the city.
"You'll be the first," Warren retorted calmly, without missing a beat.
"Lucky me," Rogue groaned.
Within minutes, Warren had found a decent landing space, and he was scooping her up in his arms like he was carrying her across the threshold, and before Rogue could blink they were in the air, rising high above the city.
Despite herself, she let out a meek gasp, and would have hid her face in shoulder if her pride hadn't kicked in just then.
Warren laughed. "I've got you," he assured her.
After a few moments, Rogue realized he really did and relaxed.
And she felt the wind in her hair, the breeze on her face, as they rode the thermals toward the island in the distance, and she understood why Warren hadn't been able to give up his wings.
"This is incredible," she breathed. "I wish I had your power!"
Warren chuckled, but his laughter, like Rogue's enjoyment, quickly faded as they neared Alcatraz and the battle raging below came into view.
They swooped in under the cover of the fog, with explosions and projectiles flying all around them.
"I have to find my dad," Warren said apologetically.
"Go," Rogue told him, tugging off her gloves and stuffing them into her belt. "I'll be fine. Good luck."
"You, too," Warren told her.
And then he was off, soaring toward the facility, and Rogue was left alone on the rocky bluffs with nothing but a huge swarm of hostile mutants in front of her, and suddenly she was glad she hadn't stopped for her X-men uniform.
No need to make herself an even bigger target, after all.
As her gaze wandered across the battlefield, she caught sight of Ororo's white hair, and then finally her eyes came to rest on Bobby.
And Kitty there beside him, phasing him so they could avoid falling debris.
Rogue stared at them for a long moment, then began to make her way into the crowd of Magneto's army, bare hands extended in front of her.
"Excuse me," she said, touching a burly man with plasma balls in his hands.
His psyche swam over her mind and she pushed it into submission as his powers became hers. She thought about blasting a path through the crowd, but decided subtlety was probably the best route to go for now.
Plasma Guy fell, but no one seemed to notice in the chaos around them, and she pressed onward, reaching for the nearest mutant to cross her path.