Untouchable Flame

SEQUEL TO "SEEING YET BLIND"! Wow… I am so enthralled with everyone who read, enjoyed, and reviewed it. Some reviews even made me do a double take on the story line…people discovered things I myself had not even considered! I also changed/added a few things here and there due to the requests/input from my reviewers. My heart goes out to you, and this story will hopefully grow with not only my creativity, but with all of your opinions.

Untouchable Flame…yes… Draw what you can from the title! This is set after my other x-men series, "Seeing Yet Blind." It is advised that that-16 chapter series is read before reading this sequel-series.

Rating: T – language, violence, some mild adult themes.

Pairings: Rogue/Gambit, Scott/Jean, maybe I'll delve deeper into Logan/Ororo. And of course, there might be some other minor pairs along the way ;)

Official (complete) Summary: Phoenix is done with Jean, and done with the X-men. Due to Jean's final, desperate attack to save not only the man she loved, but the entirety of humans and mutants alike, the last thing anyone saw of Phoenix was her dying form fading away on the ground between the humans and mutants during the "war for the cure." Scott has recovered, Jean's body is free of Phoenix, and the "war for the cure" has ended. Rogue's been hit by the cure, however after one fateful night, questions begin to arise about the cure itself…and what exactly happened to Phoenix.

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men franchise in any way. I wish I could be a part of it though! (: That would be spiffy. Oh – this series, along with "Seeing Yet Blind," is meant to take place in the movie-verse, seeing I've read little about the comics. However, what I have added into this series that pertains to the comics (Gambit, for example) I have researched to get at least a basic grip about.

Happy reading!

1 – Rewritten

Silence. It had once been deadly in the face of Phoenix. The lethal fire-body within Jean Grey had used, and not to mention, abused Jean Grey's cameo and mutation. Using her body as a mere shell, Phoenix tapped into the woman's memories shortly after taking hold of the woman's unconscious, but living body beneath Alkali Lake; this allowed her to act as Jean Grey would have when rescued. She at first was able to fool even Professor Charles Xavier into thinking that Jean had miraculously survived the crushing force of the lake's water pounding on her body, but after a minor slip of tongue, the Professor had instantly caught on. Things since then had only exploded up and outward.

But this silence…this silence was golden. It was a soft silence; the stillness in the air coupled by gentle, rhythmic breathing. The nightmarish aura the mansion once gave off was now more of a golden glow; with Phoenix being gone and Jean Grey's return, things seemed to relax instantaneously. This was especially the case with Scott Summers. As he lay beside his lover's slumbering body, he draped an arm over her shoulders, pushing her frayed red hair behind her ear, revealing her fair-skinned face. He gave a genuine smile to her; in times past he could have laid eyes upon this exact scenario and he could have very well been staring at a resting Phoenix. However, that age was done and gone. Phoenix had died, attempting to murder the two of them, no less.

So at least one thing had been fixed. Phoenix had been silenced; however there still remained the cure. The "cure" that would permanently rid a being of the power that their mutation had given them. They could be "normal" from this cure. But after being a mutant, what was normal? Was anything normal after being forced into being an outcast among the human population? There was only one place in the whole of the country that was considered normal for them. Xavier's Institute, or more commonly known among humans as the "school for mutants". Here dozens of young mutants came for an alternate, and generally calmer lifestyle: a school just for them, and training programs designed to help them master and control their mutations. The headmaster was basically known as the most powerful mutant around, and was seconded by extraordinary teachers who also assumed the name of X-men while in battle.

Now the topic on teacher and student tongue alike was that of the cure. Should they take it? Should they ignore it? Make it mandatory? Out-law it? Opinions ranged from one extreme to the other. However, for one girl, it hadn't been a choice. During the war the guns had been loaded with either bullets or cure darts, and Rogue had been stricken by half a vial of the cure serum. Now she was flaunting in the ability to touch skin to skin with another being, but not long after she learned her powers had subsided did she start to miss them. Although one would rather say she subconsciously had a fondness for being a mutant. Now she was the only human among a mansion-full of mutants. She was not scorned or pushed away though; Rogue had ran from home and met Logan by chance, and then was escorted to the mansion by Storm and Cyclops, and to this day she hadn't thought once of permanently leaving. She was still being schooled, but even after she was done with her required education, she doubted whether or not she'd want to leave for college.

---

During the night before, the summer air drifted in almost hypnotically through the window that had been barely left ajar. It had merely been an overlooked detail by the teenage girl; she'd had an eventful night with her boyfriend and couldn't care less about what else happened that night. When she'd stumbled sleepily into her room at one in the morning, the window had been open only the slightest bit and the occasional breeze would send shivers through the curtains.

"A little fresh air never killed anyone," she thought absentmindedly as she stripped herself of her attire and slipped into something more comfortable before flopping onto the sheets. Exhaustedly she gave a sigh and squirmed beneath the covers until she eventually settled into the unconscious world of dreaming.

Meanwhile in the outside air, fireflies swept over the gentle caress of the nightly breeze. However, one off-handedly slipped through the glass that opened so slightly into the world inside of Xavier's Institute. Curiously the little insect that gave off a reddish glow floated towards the girl resting in the bed. And after hovering above her figure for what seemed ages, the firefly settled on her chest, only inches above her heart, and seemed to almost look at the girl with a familiarly pensive attitude.

"So…the girl with the poison skin…" the voice was small, light.

Suddenly the firefly sank through the girl's clothing, and then diffused through her skin effortlessly.

"You could be quite helpful…" the female voice purred once the insect had melted into Rogue's body. She sprang awake at the sound of the voice, knowing it, and fearing it.

"Except…what happened to your power? Hit by a cure, maybe…?" the voice mused. "I can fix that with a little…rewiring."

Rogue tried to scream as she felt heat searing through her limbs, over her face, and down her spine. Everywhere heat surged just beneath her skin, ripping up what immunity the "mutant-cure" had provided. The massive pain had practically paralyzed her.

---

This particular day had been a rather glum one; it'd been raining all day and the weather had only lessened within the hour. Many students had slept late that day. The rain still dripped slowly outside, but it was more of a sprinkle rather than a full rain. On days like this, Storm liked to let nature thunder and crackle on its own. She could spend hours just watching the sky churn and the rain fall and would never grow bored. This is why she let nature run its course rather than manipulating it to be perfect sunny weather.

Outside, two mutants strode along the stone path leading to the lake neighboring the school. Jean had chosen to go barefoot, letting her feet stride along the rain-drenched walkway. Scott was beside her, his hands in his jacket pockets, similar to Jean whose hands were in her jean pockets. For a long while they just walked in silence, taking in the overcastted scenery. Despite the less-than-great quality of air in New York, a walk over the grounds of the institute was very refreshing; the air was crisp and ripe and held a sense of natural simplicity. And simplicity was exactly as how the outing could be described.

Jean sighed, her chest rising slowly, her ribs stretching against her shirt, and then falling all in one fluid action. One branch hung before her on the crape myrtle-lined path, and Scott reached for it first and moved it from her line of view so she could pass under it without getting slapped by a wet, flowering limb.

"Thanks," she smiled.

"When was the last time we went down here, huh?" he asked, strictly out of curiosity.

"Oh…I don't know…maybe when we were kids?"

"Really?"

"I said I didn't know…" Jean repeated, looking to him.

"Well my memory's as good as yours," he smirked back at her.

They broke through the massive shading trees and into the open air that was still covered by the overcast clouds. Jean's light brown eyes sailed over the rippling lake; the rain still fell lazily. Scott's eyes were up to the cloudy veil above their heads, and he wondered aloud, "Why hasn't Storm gotten on this?" Jean took his hand by nosing her own into his jacket, finding that his palm was rather warm compared to her chilled fingers.

"You know she likes to let nature run its course," Jean mused, her eyes squinting slightly as she looked up against the rain that fell towards the ground below. Within his jacket pocket, his fingers groped around hers, and she instantly felt the warmth transferring into her palm.

"Cold, are we?" he questioned lightly as he looked back towards her.

"Just my hands," she replied, dodging his gaze, much like the shy young girl she once was. Scott still had the ability to make things between them seem brand new, and even more so since Phoenix left and they'd regained their regular lives. After being mentally separated from each other for so many months, the two only assumed that the feelings of yearning and paranoia about each other's safety were natural. Within the pocket, his fingers ran between hers, and it if was possible, their hands winding together could be compared to their fingers kissing.

"Well, Mr. Summers," Jean began, her hand still in his jacket, "seems you are being a little clingy, huh?" He smiled in return, trying to decipher her exact motives. Her eyelashes swept over her eyes rather seductively, and she pulled him closer by just her hand tugging on his, and then with her lips mere inches from his ear, she whispered, "Just like old times, huh?"

Before he even managed a grin, she'd pushed him onto the wet, curling grass, but cushioned his fall with her telekinetic abilities enough to ensure his safety. Mentally she whispered to him, 'That was an accident, of course,' and he laughed at her. He withdrew his hand from his jacket pocket, however he did not unwind his fingers from hers. His free hand fell to her waist, and she playfully squirmed away from his touch, pulling to his side and causing him to turn over; his arms falling on either side of her propping himself up. His eyebrows jumped for a mere second, enticing her to make the next move. "Scott…you got me wet!" she cried, her back soaked from the rain-laden grass. She shoved back on his shoulder so that it again toppled him over so he flopped back into the grass.

"You were only asking for it," he replied. She then gave him a quick kiss on his lips before looking over her shoulder. She was sitting, her legs draped to her side, and he lied on the grass, his knees drawn up slightly, and he held one of her arms at her elbow.

She drew away and stumbled to her legs as she breathed, "Catch me if you can…"

"Hey --!" Scott cried after her, finding it very hard to hide his grin. Just like old times, he thought, just like old times. He jumped to his feet, but Jean had already tore down the stone path. As her footfalls fell on the stone, the varying crape myrtle petals clung to the bottoms of her wet feet. The rain fell slightly harder, her hair started to cling to her face when Scott all of a sudden came out of no where. He caught her arm and whirled her around, almost a little too quickly in fact; the two slammed up against the frail trunk of one of the trees, or rather Jean's back ran against it.

The child inside of her was getting the better of her. At first her chest rose and fell quickly due to her running, but when she met his gaze, she blinked away and sighed anxiously.

"Jean…"

She looked down and smiled, her symmetrical white teeth showing beneath her lips. He still had his fingers around her forearm; both arms were between herself and Scott, while her wrists were level with her shoulders.

"You're acting like a kid…" he smirked.

"I don't know…but having a psychotic entity inside your body might have some effect on you…" Jean mused. Then, as if she was on a first date, she hesitantly and gingerly placed her hands at the base of his neck, where his shoulders met his throat.

He drew in an unexpected breath as the two inched closer. "Your hands are cold," he breathed.

"I told you," she chuckled.

He cut her off before she could continue, sealing her lips with his own. Her hands seemed to naturally inch higher, her thumbs brushing the edges of his jaws. The two drew closer still, and their kisses deepened. For the first time in a long while their mental connection sparked to life, but suddenly Jean felt as if she was fighting back a scream that lodged itself into her throat.

Scott received an off-handed shock in the back of his mind, and then pulled away while breathlessly asking, "What…what's wrong?"

Her eyes were wild, and she shook her head as if she couldn't understand. Her hands drew tight to her own body as her chest heaved. "No….no," she whispered.

"Jean…?" the panic in his voice was obvious.

"We have to go back…" she cried, looking back towards the mansion.

"Jean! Tell me what the hell's wrong…" he grabbed her shoulders. This had happened before at Alkali, except she'd skipped the whole kissing/talking-scenario.

"Something terrible's happening back at the mansion…" Their eyes met, and instantly it became clear what she was talking about. They bolted off for the school, hoping and praying Jean was wrong.

---

When she'd woke that morning she felt as if one million ants were burrowing through her skin. And without warning the tingling from the "burrowing" turned into horrible, horrible pain; racing through her blood, her limbs, and then centering in her skull. She moaned quietly as her teeth gritted together. The pain was so foreign. Was her mutation coming back? And if so, already?

There was a knock on the door. It sounded ear-shattering as it split the silent air within the vicinity of the room. "Cherie?" a familiar voice came from behind the unlocked door. "You okay?" he asked. However, when he continued to hear her whimper in pain, he forced his way into the room.

"Remy…" she pleaded desperately. Her eyes were a vibrant shade of red, pulsing over her naturally brown eyes. She was curled up with her knees to her chest and her hands on her head when she finally went lax. He went to her side within the next heartbeat, and his hand fell on her shoulder. She then released the roots of her hair and simply let her arms fall outward over her knees. This action caused her hair to fall back around her face, much as a dark veil streaked twice with white.

"Cherie?" he questioned again, softer.

She whipped around, her hair flying about, revealing her spiteful glare. Her nails dug into his wrist, drawing blood with ease. He winced, but didn't pull away. "Morning, Remy," she smiled devilishly, pulling herself to the edge of the bed. He still stood beside the mattress, and as he began to speak again, she put a finger to his lips and whispered, "I'm hungry…questions later." And with that, she met his lips and kissed him rather seductively, her eyes pulsing red a final time before keeping the lethal color in check.

Remy smiled into her lips, but the smile soon faded as he felt his limbs grow still. The air was getting caught in his throat as he desperately attempted to cry out; but Rogue would not withdraw. Her mutation was in full swing once again, and she was silently killing Remy, whether or not she knew it.

"Hungry…" she repeated, breaking from him, "for your damn mutation." She then pushed the man away, and he dropped like a dead weight to the floor. After he fell still and she could clearly make out the faint rasping breath caught in his throat, Rogue helped herself off of the bed and bent over Gambit, swiftly drawing his deck of cards within his jacket. "Thanks, hon," she smirked, walking out the door without a second glance at the man.

Once outside the door, Rogue stopped, eyed the deck of cards, and then while arching an eyebrow, mused, "Rogue…the new the new and improved version."

---

Jean and Scott drew closer to the mansion, and a crash was heard from even a half dozen feet away. Scott looked to Jean, and then she sighed and ripped the door open with her mind. The two slipped inside, and another explosive crash was heard, coming from the kitchen.

"What the hell…?" Scott breathed.

Jean put a finger to her lips, and then edged closer to the massive archway-entrance to the breakfast nook. Dishes had shattered on the dark tile floor, spraying glass every-which-way. There was a horrible dark aura circling the room, and as Jean continued to trace the path of the shattered dishes, she found minor traces of crimson blood, and then her eyes narrowed in confusion when she laid eyes on Rogue's figure.

"Rogue?" Jean called calmly, taking a reluctant step towards the clearly stressed girl.

Rogue's head snapped to the direction of the new voice. Once her eyes connected with Jean's her expression turned from murderous to venomous. Her eyes were a gut-wrenching shade of red, and seemed to tear through Jean with no hesitation. "Hello, Jean," she replied, surprisingly calm.

Jean's eyes grew wider.

"Long time, no see…?" Rogue pressed.

Jean ricocheted backwards, but Scott caught her around the middle before she could lose her balance. She held to him with a death grip with one hand, and the other hand fell to her chest, where she could feel her heart thudding erratically. Just like when I'd nearly been murdered, she thought.

Rogue spontaneously drew two cards and threw them at the couple much like if they were just miniature, rectangle Frisbees. With a gun-shot bang they exploded before the pair, sending them hurtling backwards. Jean's skull connected with the stairwell before she fell to the hardwood floor with a sickening thud. Scott could hear the whoosh of her breath leaving her as he skidded along the floor, his arms burning against the polished wood. He finally came to a stop about half a dozen feet away from Jean, who herself was half a dozen feet from Rogue.

I must of missed something, Scott thought angrily.

Rogue slinked forward and cried rather innocently, "Oh no…what have I done? Poor Ms. Grey…" Rogue then knelt beside Jean's limp body that was crumpled rather awkwardly beside the stairs. The girl then chuckled vilely as she placed a light hand on Jean's forehead. Upon the touch, the younger girl could feel the telepathic power flooding into her instantly, all because of a simple skin-on-skin touch. Scott gawked at her; partly enraged, partly hurt, but mostly out of betrayal. Rogue was one of the X-men, and here she was directly using her mutation on the woman he loved. He struggled to regain his footing, but Rogue was two steps ahead of him.

When she'd withdrawn from Jean, the red head had been left on the floor looking ghastly-pale and now sported raspy breath. Her eyelids seemed to flutter, but would never fully open. Rogue however, strode sharply towards Scott, and without even lifting a finger, managed to throw Scott the remaining distance down the hallway, or at least until he collided forcefully against the next wall. He managed to push himself from the floor with stiff limbs, and then gasped, "Why?"

"Well you would know all about long time, no see!" she barked, throwing her hand out and almost literally ripping the ruby glasses away from the man's face. He nearly sent the beams firing off merely because he wasn't expecting the action, but snapped his eyes shut and turned his head away in subliminal fear. He'd always felt extremely vulnerable without the glasses, even if it mean he was more powerful. No, Scott had always cared too much to release the blast at full power.

"But you don't have to see me to know who I am, Summers."

That was not Rogue's voice. But she was right; he knew exactly who it was.

"But you died…they said they saw you dead," Scott growled.

"You know that sight it a precious gift…some people abuse it by letting their idiotic minds get ahead of them," she snarled.

"I don't understand then…"

"I could say the same for you," she spat. "But you, you of all people should know…the Phoenix never dies."