Moving On - Chapter 11
By Gimpy
White squares riddled the hall, gusts of air from the vents picking up the edges and blowing them a little further. Each one held bold statements in black ink, truths Jubilee had worked hard to uncover. Lowering onto her knees, she reached out her yellow-gloved hands and started to once again pile the sheets of paper together. Boxing them neatly, she rose from her knees with a grunt and glanced back at the three men whispering hotly.
In her eyes they were three of the most powerful men she'd ever encountered, the hero's of a desperate generation. Through all the trials and all the hardships, they had always managed to pull together and remain strong. She didn't have to know all the details of what was happening to understand the severity of it. That was written along every wrinkle and crease in their stoic features, had been since her dear friend ran away. The lines were deeper now and the strength they carried had been dwarfed. Words weren't needed for her to understand the situation had gotten worse. It tore at her but most of all it was tearing at them. They no longer held that string of unity, that brotherhood and trust that bonded them. They were united by a single common thread but had become three distinct points of a disentangled triangle, neither man standing together, each on opposite sides with differed views.
It frightened her that something could cause such a rift and the desire to understand forced her feet to take a step closer. Fragmented sentences barely reached her strained ears but there was a sentiment in the tone, one of resentment and anger.
Scott, the dormant leader perched solemnly against the wall, spoke with a despondence that visibly grieved the eldest of the three. As Jubilee drew nearer, she managed to catch the end of his callused words.
"You of all people should have known better." The bitterness that each of his words held frightened and confused her even further.
Baring every shred of his guilt to the younger man, the Professor tried to defend his actions but lacked the passion necessary to convince even himself. "I had no idea it would come to this, it was a simple request on her part, one I saw no danger in granting."
So gentle a man was the Professor that she couldn't understand the anger rolling off both Logan and Scott.
The barbarian scoffed at the Professors hollow words, spouting angrily, "No danger? These people used her past to lure her away from us so that we couldn't protect her and you saw no danger? Do you even know what common sense is?" There was no hesitation in berating the older man, scorning and demoralizing him as if he were a two-year-old child, not the respectable man he was.
"You have to understand my reasons," Charles persisted, his tender eyes begging for understanding.
"What possible reasons could there be that justifies you lying to us?" Logan retorted, tucking his clenched fists under his arms, still seething madly.
"If I had refused and then had you forcibly bring her home, she would have lost all trust in us and more than likely taken off again." Once again the fire and conviction was lacking in the Professor's voice, an echoing fact in the younger man standing still against the far wall.
Forcing his chin from the comfort of his chest, Scott finally showed more then the despondence devouring him, true fury glistening behind his ruby quartz-covered eyes. "A little lost trust is better then this, Charles! I can live with lost trust because that can be gained back. If anything happens to her, what's going to bring her back? Do you have a machine in this place to do that? Because that is the only way I'd ever be able to forgive you. Ever."
The distorted pieces to this puzzle started to gather for the tiny woman hanging back in the shadows and with each new piece, it took another inch off the pedestal she'd placed the Professor on. She'd never known the man to make mistakes, she knew he wasn't perfect, but mistakes like this weren't ones he made. A light smile graced the silent girl as a realization warmed her. The mistake had been unavoidable because when Rogue wanted something she almost always got it. Jubilee supposed that was why both Logan and Scott were mad, they knew that if they had been in the Professor's position they would have done the same thing. The anger they harbored wasn't for the man but the woman who'd forced his hand.
Softly, as if having come to the same conclusion, Logan questioned, "What exactly did you see in there?"
Grateful for the slender trails of warmth lingering around the Wolverine's words, the Professor closed his eyes and recalled the images he's been vicariously graced with. "It was hazy, colors were bleeding together. There were vibrations, almost like voices but without syllables. There was indescribable pain and fear but she was more worried than anything. I'm not certain what about, she lost consciousness before I could delve any further."
"Do you have any idea where she was? Did you see any sign or label that could possibly narrow it down just a little?" Scott asked, pleading for something more than what they had which was a resounding nothing.
"I'm sorry, there was too much fog clouding Marie's mind," Xavier murmured, wishing desperately to have had an answer to give the man.
The knit in Scott's brow furrowed even further, defeat slowly settling in the man's heart. "What do we do now?" he queried, unable to find the answer himself.
"I suggest that you both continue to track down the leads you have," the Professor offered, sadly adding, "I will try Cerebro again, though it will not work until she is conscious."
Both Logan and Scott shared a moment of understanding before Scott turned to the guilt-ridden man. "It's not your fault, as much as you should have said no, we know first hand that when it comes to Rogue it's a futile exercise."
A thin smile attempted to reach the older man's eyes but failed. "I wish that made me feel better but until I know the girl is safe I won't."
Nodding in complete understanding and empathy, Scott turned and started down the long and narrow hall, Logan falling into stride along side him. The silent eavesdropper let out a shallow gasp when both men spotted her.
The glare Logan sent her way didn't quite reach his eyes as he barked, "I thought I told you to get lost, kid?"
Jubilee fidgeted nervously under the boorish man's scrutiny. "Ya did, it's just… here," she spouted, shoving the neatly stacked papers into Scott's chest.
"What's this?" Scott asked, lightly thumbing through the pages.
Shrugging, Jubilee answered, "When ya guys radioed back what ya had found I was… well..."
"Eavesdropping like you just were?" Logan snapped.
Scoffing, she quipped, "So sue me, I listened in, jotted down the address you got and then did the thing?" Logan questioned, his infamous brow arching slightly.
Becoming even more sheepish by the second and slowly losing her nerve, Jubilee nodded, then fumbled out, "I looked into the warehouse, owners and previous ones, bills, documents…anything I could get my hands on, legally or not."
"Or not?" Scott started, his authoritative nature peaking.
"You think it's easy to find half that crap without hacking a little? It's got government notations on all of it, stamps of approval I suppose, then again considering its previous tenant…" Jubilee rambled off.
The implication of government involvement turned Logan white as a ghost, a revolted shutter rolling through him. "Government?" he stammered.
"Yeah, the big ol' US of A government is knee deep in that place. Property taxes, paid by The Man, bills, paid by The Man, funds and grants, donated by The Man, personnel and security, donated by The Man. There's nothing they don't have their thumbs in." The more she spoke the whiter Logan got until she swore he'd go transparent.
Letting it sink in for a moment, Scott surmised more to himself than anything, "This is bigger than just revenge."
"You have no clue Boss Man," Jubilee quipped lightly. Hesitating, she took a moment before she added the cherry to the disaster sundae. "The man who owned the warehouse before the government bought it out from underneath him a decade and a half ago… it was…" she stilled, her own perverse memories resurfacing. Tears swelled in her hazel eyes, her cheeks burning at the emotions sprawling across her face.
"It was the recently deceased William Stryker…"
A soft flickering light sparked, humming and sputtering as it struggled to get enough energy to sustain itself. The sound vibrated through the thick concrete walls, burrowing into the young woman sprawled along a cot in the corner of the room. Light flashed on and off her angelic face as the fog that had consumed her slowly started to give way. She groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the stiff pillow to hide from the infuriating light. There was still too much exhaustion in her limbs for her to want to wake up but as the sound continued to bombard her she knew it was useless. Cursing into the itchy woolen pillowcase, she used her growing strength and pushed herself into a wavering seated position.
The world around her titled and blurred, causing a flip and churn in her already sick stomach. The incessant blinking light aided the nausea taking hold and she slapped her hand over her lips. Through the swirling haze and the flickering moments of light, she managed to spot a half wall on the other side of the room. It spiraled in circles to her swerving vision, causing a lump to form in her coarse throat. Hand still clamped over her quivering and traitorous lips, she attempted to stand but the ground shifted and whirled beneath her naked feet. Stumbling to the ground, her bare hands barely able to keep her stable, she coughed, the contents of her stomach gracing the back of her throat.
The light flickered back on and she jerked, moving closer to what she assumed was a bathroom. Or so she hoped, its constant circling confusing and altering her sense of direction. The darkness blanketed the room again and she stilled, her entire form swaying. When the light came back, she made another jilted move, continuing to do so between shades of white and black until a trembling hand grasped the protruding wall. The bile rose again, making itself known and forcing her to swallow it back.
Relief washed over her at the beautiful sight of the porcelain bowl. Scrambling quickly to its side before she missed it all together, she let go. Both hands held on tightly to the bowl's rim for stability and her entire form shook with convulsive hacks. It took over her entire being, forcing the world around her to swirl faster and blur almost completely together until she couldn't even see the back of the porcelain god. All she knew was the burning hole forming in the pit of her stomach as every fiber she'd consumed in the last four days rose and expelled itself in a ritual cleansing of the drugs that had infiltrated her system.
She coughed and sputtered until even the energy to hold on was lost and she collapsed to the side. Her vision still swam and the colors still blended but slowly she was able to make out the creases in the ceiling above her enough to realize it wasn't polished mahogany or tainted stucco but drab concrete, imperfect and stained. Confusion enveloped her, forcing her to push through the haze.
Grunting, she managed to grab hold of the bowl and pull herself up. Through the blinking light she slowly took in her surroundings, digesting each wall of solid rock with trepidation. Finding her knees, she pushed her quivering form onto them then used the back of the toilet to hoist herself onto unstable legs. Swaying to the side, she managed to catch herself on the white porcelain sink, her hands slamming into the strong material and holding fast.
Taking two deep breaths to quell the raging storm in her upset stomach, she started to push off the sink to enter the room she'd come from but stopped. Swallowing another breath, she dragged her ragged vision up to the edge of the sink. A mirror barely clung to the wall behind it, cracks weaving their way through the glass surface, small shards missing from the whole. Raising her eyes, she caught sight of her face and gasped shallowly.
Leaning closer to her own reflection, she tried to distance herself mentally from the image as she scrutinized. Pale skin refracted back, a light and glossy sheen covering its entirety like a film. Her normally lush and plump lips were ashen and cracked with a slit in the side oozing fresh blood from her collision with the concrete floor next to the toilet. An enraged bruise had formed on her left cheek, its deep blues and purples like a raging storm thrashing along her jaw line. Unwilling to connect with her own eyes she found her curly locks, frayed and jagged, knots forming ratty bumps in the normally silk strands. The stark white streaks were grayed and darkened with dirt and grime, grease coating each strand of hair.
Grazing over her slender form, the frightening realization that she was no longer in her own clothes rendered her breathless. A trembling hand reached for the thin white shirt two sizes too big, her bare hands feeling the paper-like fabric. The matching pants hung heavily on her hips, the draw string barely enough to keep them on. The feeling of violation overwhelmed her, knowing someone had risked their life to remove her clothing.
A slight whimper flowed from her wounded lips without her meaning too, startling her eyes to lock with their twin globes. What she saw nearly brought her to tears. The glimmering pools of vibrant green were gone, dwarfed and sunken in, surrounded by deepened shadows giving her the look of death reincarnate. The green couldn't even be categorized as green anymore but a blackened gray with bare hints of forest. The longer she stared, the deeper the despair showed and then a merciful hand let the dying light flicker away. Her tortured and jagged sigh echoed in the hallowed room. She welcomed the dark, turning her back on the horrid mirror. Blindly she fumbled back into the other room, the persistent light dimly shining again.
Numbed, she let her exhausted form fall, knees hitting the concrete, her entire form slumping like a dying tree. Her fiery spirit withered away, her eyes filling with haunting tears. The end was near, she could feel it grasping at her every breath, making them shallow and weightless. The only thought she had the energy to muster was worry, for Mystique, wherever she may be, for Logan and Scott, the Professor, everyone but herself. There was no concern for her, there was simply fault and she was at fault. This was her shadows catching up with her, threatening to swallow her whole, and she found a sickening peace within that thought. She wanted to be swallowed, consumed by the lingering abyss of her past. It was her fate, and to fight it was like exempting her crimes and ignoring the monster she was.
A door she never bothered to take notice of slid open, frayed strings of light piercing the room. She didn't flinch from the pain it inflicted on her tired retinas, truthfully basked in it, wanting more. The mental frame swung open further, colliding soundly with the concrete wall and causing a waterfall of neon light to blind her even further. She welcomed it and nearly cursed when a shadow took its place, looming over her. The shadowed form took two steps towards her as she ignored the advance.
"Stand," a coarse voice barked, shattering the pristine silence.
Rogue's depleted form gave no sign that she'd heard the angered order, remaining fossilized and stoic. The shadow shifted closer, its massive boots with metal framing gliding into the woman's vision.
"Stand, now," he barked again, his volume rising along with his anger.
Shifting her bitter eyes to stare at the clouded man, Rogue retorted, "Bite me."
The darkness seethed and in a fluid but sharp movement his foot rammed into Rogue's side, shoving the remaining oxygen from her form as it crashed into the concrete. Fitful coughs overpowered the woman, her stomach churning over again as she tried to bring breath back to her starving lungs.
Sneering loathsomely, the shadow bit out again, "Stand up."
Cradling herself tenderly, she pushed back onto her knees and with all her strength, forced herself off the freezing concrete floor. She swayed heavily, a dizzy spell washing over her like coarse sand. A smug grin befell the hardened face of her shadowed warden.
"Turn around and place your hands on the back of your head," he commanded.
Glancing at her bare arms she snapped, "Like hell Ah will!" Just the thought of a single shred of this man in her head sickened her.
Grabbing her bare arm in his gloved hand, he snarled, "Don't piss me off princess, I will hurt you despite my orders."
Her fear unwillingly showed on her pale and shallow face. She did as asked, turning around and placing her trembling hands at the base of her neck. Leather clad fingers grasped at one, tearing it down to the middle of her back, wrenching her aching muscles. Doing the same to the other, he slid frozen metal along her wrists and snapped them into place. Grasping her shoulder, he spun her around viciously then shoved her out the opened door and into the hall.
She stumbled, her balance lost, and without hands to brace her, she fell into the wall, her bruised cheek grazing the rough surface. Tears swelled as pain shot through her. The man stepped out after her, laughter hanging on his breath. Another man, standing just outside the door, took hold of her and shoved her down the hall.
"Walk," he barked, his voice deeper and raspier then the first man.
Rogue slowly made her way down the narrow cavern-like hall, turning when it was demanded, uncaring of where it was they were taking her. Head bowed to the rough and rocky surface below her callused feat, she didn't even notice the double doors she nearly ran into. The first muscled man stepped forward, swiping a thin card through a keypad beside the massive doors. Rogue's dulled eyes watched as they spread apart giving way to a nightmare she knew all too well. A wintry blanket of white covered every object in the expansive room, counters, walls, floor and ceiling, reflecting off the steal tabletops and instruments.
The sight burned itself onto her eyes, Logan's memories resurfacing and wrecking havoc on her imagination. The sterile smell curdled her sensitive stomach and the threat of vomit returned with a vengeance. The second man grabbed her elbow and forced her deeper into the hellish laboratory, the doors gliding shut behind them.
Her survey of the room never stopped, frightened eyes scouring every crevasse with trepidation until she caught sight of a silhouetted man directly in her path. He was nowhere near as big as her sardonic escorts, yet still towered over her short and slender frame. Something about the curve in his hair registered with Rogue, a familiarity settling in the forefront of her mind. The man shifted as she grew nearer, his angular face coming into view as he turned.
An impassioned gasp fought its way passed her thinly drawn lips and she scorned, "Bastard."
A soft look of recognition formed on the man young features. "I suppose that was deserved," he mused sourly, his voice raking over Rogue ears. "It's nice, actually, to know that you haven't forgotten me even though our meeting was brief."
Dulled eyes snaked up to glare at him viscously. "For-forget yah?" she bit out, her voice cracked and raspy. "Yah did this, yah ruined everything, mah life is ruined because o' yah… Ah will never forget," she deadpanned, somehow managing to keep the tears slicking her widened eyes from falling.
The young man frowned smoothly at her sentiments. "I was simply following orders," he defended, taking an agile step towards her. Rogue tried to cower from his advances, the look of pity on his face making her sicker then the spots still swarming her vision. His frown deepened as he drew closer, an almost tender hand reaching soundlessly for her. The man's gloved fingers inched towards the large bruise spreading along her cheek and she tried to jerk away. Her escort's hand at the middle of her back prevented it.
The tip of the young man's middle finger grazed the tender flesh and a searing breath shot from her lungs. Wincing, he shook his head. "You were ordered not to hurt her," he snapped at the powerful man whose hold had never faltered.
Sneering maliciously, he retorted, "That one's not mine but the one on her side is, isn't it sweetheart?" At his words, he reached out a grubby hand and squeezed her hip viciously.
A tortured cry flew from the lithe woman, the tears finally spreading down her clammy cheeks. "Go ta hell," she growled, the words straining past her clenched teeth.
The young man swiftly snatched Rogue's cuffed arms and pulled her unsuspecting form behind him. Nearly stumbling to the ground, she managed to stabilize herself against the table he had been standing against before. Chest heaving with every breath, she tried to erect herself but failed, forced to lean on the cool steal and wait indignantly for help.
The young man behind her sneered at the malignant and sadistic mercenary as he snapped, "You are a poor excuse for a soldier and your insolence will be dealt with, I promise."
Taking a threatening step, the beastly man veered in on the younger man with a snide attitude that spoke of the resentment he harbored. "I am the only real soldier in this entire fucking compound, so I'll do what I want, when I want, to whatever I want," he snarled back, sarcastically combing Rogue's trembling form with his dark blue eyes.
Catching the look, the shorter man shoved the palm of his hand into the soldier's chest, managing to force the overpowering man back a step.
Chuckling at the weak and inferior move, the soldier quipped, "And when you're done playing toy soldier I'll be more than willing to show you what it means to be a real man."
Unnerved by the exchange, Rogue watched pensively as the towering men left, not a single breath gracing her lungs until the doors firmly closed behind them.
The young man visibly relaxed at the same time, an unsteady hand running through his brown and perfectly combed hair. Attempting once more to right herself, Rogue yelped when the man grasped her arms and did it for her.
"I'm sorry about him, I'm younger than him and higher in rank, for obvious reasons he dislikes me," the man reasoned, another soft smile etching his angular features.
Narrowing her gaze, Rogue quipped, "Ah don't know who yah are but your smile isn't gonna charm me, Ah'm Southern, we're the masters of charm. Now where the hell is mah mother?" Despite the darkening bruise, Rogue managed to look intimidating.
The smile slipped from his face and a pensive line took its place as he stared deep into Rogue's eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. Disappointed, he jerked his head, motioning behind her.
Swallowing deeply, Rogue slowly pivoted on her feet, ignoring the sterile lab and the horrors that came with it. A stark glimmer of blue amongst the white caught her attention and on impulse, Rogue charged towards it. The man let her go, watching silently as she stumbled to reach Mystique then stopped all together, stunned by the sight of shocking crimson.
"What happened ta her!" she cried, a foot from the table.
"From what I heard she put up quiet the fight. It took three men to take her down." The young man explained, keeping his distance from the enraged girl.
Pulling against the restricting bonds, she swallowed the last foot between her and the gurney, dropping to her knees beside it. Snapping her head back she glared at the man and snarled, "Why? Yah could have just let her go… It was me yah were after not her."
"I'm sorry, she was a liability."
Scoffing, Rogue turned back to Mystique's battered body, desperately wrenching her arms just so she could touch the wounded woman. Giving up, she let her head fall onto the cold metallic gurney and whimpered out, "Ah'm so sorry for gettin' yah inta this."
Squeezing back the tears, she titled her head to the side and glared at the man still standing in the middle of the room. "Ah have questions," she snapped and he bowed away. "But yah don't have answers for me…"
"No, that's not my job," he confirmed with another sad smile that made her stomach churn.
Turning back to Mystique, she took in the blood caked in her hair, smeared along her jaw, spotting the white sheet draped across her. Slowly bringing herself to an eerie stance, she curled to the side and eyed the young man with death in her eyes. "Yah had better hope Ah never get out o' here. Cause if Ah do," she seethed, taking a step towards the lackey. "Ah will destroy yah…" Her nose flared, her eyes conveying every last fiber of hatred she'd ever possessed. "Now get out," she snapped, turning and possessively leaning over the unconscious body.
Knowing he couldn't actually leave her alone, he took a generous step back, making sure to give her enough space, nearly slipping into the shadows as she attempted to coddle the wounded woman. Her bare and confined hands made it impossible and the young man's brow knitted. Agilely he pulled off his gloves and then coughed.
Rogue's head snapped his way, eyes blazing. Silently the man stepped towards her and cautiously unlocked the restraints, placing his gloves in her hands gingerly. Swiftly he strayed back, returning the space she'd asked for. Casting him an uncertain and mistrusting glance, she pulled the expensive black leather over her quivering fingers and grasped Mystique's hand, lightly caressing her face with the other.
"Ah'm so sorry," she uttered softly, gently thumbing the woman's hairline. "Yah were right, Ah am weak. Ah never should have come ta yah, Ah was just so scared an Ah needed yah. Ah put yah here… Ah'm so sorry."
The wistful voice, pleading and desperate, reached the young man and he turned away, feeling like a voyeur just being there. He cursed himself for being the instigator, knowing he too had been weak. Too weak to break away from the chains that held him, forced him to become the monster even he was afraid of. A hesitant hand found his chest and slipped up, cupping around his neck. Masculine fingers reached, brushing up against a button sized metallic circle deeply rooted into the flesh there, the ball to his chain.
Letting his hand slip away, he listened to Rogue whispering quietly to the unconscious form. Inhaling softly, he moved forward and grabbed one of the several chairs littering the small laboratory. Carefully wheeling it closer, he waited for her to take notice of him before offering it.
Listening to him advance, she glanced back, spotting the peace offering. Confusion reigned at the gesture itself coming from the same man who had tortured her with the necklace from her mother, the same man that had ruined her graduation, mangled her hand, and played with her emotions. Swallowing, she faced him, hands still clutching at Mystique's. Her sallow green eyes purged his, searching for answers to quell the confusion. Another light smile graced his chiseled and somewhat handsome features.
Unable to echo the gesture, she turned back around and eyed him over her shoulder. Taking the hint, he pushed the chair underneath her, which she took gratefully before completely turning from him and concentrating on her surrogate mother. Stepping back once more into the shadows, the young man simply stood and waited for his next set of orders from his superiors.
"I'm not quite sure I understand the implications of this," Hank admitted softly to the amassed group of comrades, Jubilee's information sitting on the same table that held the many flyers and newspaper clippings. At the confused looks he received, he restated his question, "What I mean to say is that this man is dead and the warehouse wasn't even under his name when he died. I'm not grasping at why his previous ownership means so much."
"He may no longer own the building but the fact that he did and was known for mutant experimentation means that the building is outfitted for it. Plus considering that he worked for the government and they now own it…" Logan trailed off, letting the man construct his own summary.
"So it's your belief that every event leading up to this moment was to bring Miss D'Ancanto in to be experimented on?" Hank questioned.
"That's what we're guessing," Logan answered.
"That seems quite excessive for just one girl," Hank reasoned. "I'm certain her powers are untapped, and would more than likely prove to be a useful tool, I'm simply unsure if the means would be outweighed by the ends. She's a strong young woman, breaking her may not be as easy as it seams."
"They got her out of here quick enough just by confronting her with who she is," Logan bitterly mused. "They know her weakness better then we do, which frankly scares and confuses the hell out of me. Complete strangers know her better then we do."
"Then… perhaps they aren't complete strangers…" Storm spoke, hesitating before every word, the implications behind what she was saying unnerving to even her.
Through the pensive and thoughtful silence an angered and resigned chuckle whispered from the corner. "You know what Storm? Considering how little we really know, I would seriously not be surprised if that were true," Scott muttered, uncrossing his arms and stalking the well lit table. "So many people, so many lives…who's to say she didn't do it in the name of the government? I can't argue either way…the thing is, it doesn't matter. We can analyze until we're blue in the face but there is only one person who can tell us the truth. Until she does, we get as much intel about the layout and security and when we're ready, we storm in there and we bring her back." An eerie commanding presence emanated from the newly empowered man. "When she's safe is when we find out exactly what the hell is going…by whatever means…"
to be continued…
Author's Notes: Have I told you all how much I love you? Cause I do. You've all remained so loyal despite the long waits and that means so incredibly much to me. I don't think I can thank you enough except to keep writing and going as fast as I can. Much love to you all.
The Mishinator: I'm glad you think the wait was worth it - hopefully that will be the same for this chapter.
VinsDareDevillvr: Thank you daredevil!
BrennaM: Hopefully you won't have to stay up too late to read this one. It's nice that you appreciate how deeply I show Rogue's emotions, I don't think I'll ever be able to write a flat character as long as I live. Anyway enjoy and I'm sorry for the wait on this one - it would have been posted sooner but my computer was on strike.
Shelbecat: I'm sorry for not having sent the last one to you - I just wanted to post it so bad and I couldn't wait. I should have of course cause the mistakes in that one was horrendous. I appreciate the work you put into this one - couldn't do it without you or the kitten, HI KITTEN! I love you and thank you for the review.
ScottCyke: The best huh? Even better then the guy who wrote The Outsiders or the creator of Gravitation? I love you too.
Roguechere: I did it again… I can't help it my chapters almost always end in cliffhangers, this one isn't much of one so you should b okay just been a heart monitor on the side just incase you do try and die on me. I really love the relationship I've created between Rogue and Mystique too - its gives an element of reality to a plot line that's not so much realistic, in my opinion anyway. As for Logan and Scott - this doesn't have much of them either but hopefully its enough to keep you withdrawal symptoms at bay. Good luck with the university thing!
