Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews :) Just to clear it up for those of you who were confused - Rogue does have her powers back. And for anyone who is still a bit confused about Jack - there are still many things you don't know! I will hopefully make them completely clear in the next couple of chapters.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. There is a bit at the end that may be a bit off as I am not an expert on the particulars of giving and taking blood. When I had a blood test I turned my ipod up full volume, closed my eyes and tried not to think about it, because I am a wimp like that so... lol

Anyhoo, here's chapter eighteen for you (eighteen out of twenty three! nearly finished!)

She was surrounded by walls of metal, claustrophobic and cold. There was no warmth here, just the insistent flash of a light somewhere before her. In her metallic cocoon she sat, trying not to think of what went beyond those walls, because that was where the true horror lay.
Fully suited up the X-men stood around in an emergency room in the Pentagon. There were several defence people, politicians, and generally important people milling around, trying not to look intimidated by the superheroes they were sharing oxygen with. They were all waiting for the President.

He arrived a few minutes later and, much to the annoyance of the defence people, went straight to Storm.

"I'm so sorry," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder before walking off to start the meeting.

"This better be important," the largest of the defence people said, "I have enough troubles on my hands without being called to top secret 'emergencies' and being made to wait twenty minutes."

"Well, I apologise for any inconvenience, General," the President said as levelly as he could, "But as I understand it, I employ you to ensure this country is safe. I have cancelled everything, from my afternoon tea with Senator Simons to the World Summit, is it too much to ask that you make the same sacrifices for me?"

The General didn't reply but backed down slightly, bowing his head.

"What is the problem, Mr. President," Hank asked.

"My friends, I fear we are about to be invaded," he said.

She was getting dressed, ready for dinner with Warren. She was looking forwards to it so much, despite all the fuss that everyone was making about hair and dresses. She had a few minutes to herself while Kitty and Rogue (wait, wasn't she Rogue?) went to grab some food, so she admired herself in the mirror. How lucky that the girls had decided her bracelets matched the dress, but unfortunate that it had no pockets. She had a small, round, black object in her hand but there was nowhere on her person to carry it so she left it on the side before going to find her friends.
"Our satellites picked them up a few days back," a small scientist said, pressing buttons on the desk in front of him to reveal a computer screen. "But they weren't really doing anything, just listening to the radio frequencies, watching television, so we left them to it. Then, a couple of hours ago they started to move, and they're heading straight for us. If they carry on their current course they'll enter the atmosphere in a couple of hours."

Storm looked down at the screen. On it was a blurry, black and white picture. Despite the bad quality, it was quite clear what it was of.

"Aliens?" the General said, impatience and disbelief ringing through his voice.

"We don't know if their intention is to attack us or not," the scientist said, "But it is widely agreed that it is better to be prepared for the worst."

"Why not blast them out of the sky before they even land?"

"Because they might be peaceful," Hank said, "Such an action would be the interplanetary equivalent of blowing up UN ambassadors…"

"As far as we can tell, their flight pattern should land them in Central Park. Even with the potential danger, civilians will be around – we need to evacuate the area, set up a perimeter and prepare for a worst case scenario," the scientist said.

"I know if all this precaution is necessary," the President said, "But I would feel considerably reassured to have you all on standby, in case things take a turn for the worst."

She was underwater. A long way down as well, judging by the light. She could barely see the twinkle of the surface above her, but that didn't matter. She could hold her breath for a long time. She kicked her feet out of her cocoon, leaving its safety for the first time in what felt like an age. Each push of her feet and stroke of her arms propelled her closer to freedom – no more confinement in her cage behind the walls that kept her safe but also trapped. She broke the surface, taking a gulp of fresh air. Above her Lady Liberty loomed.
"Why have you got them here?" the General asked the President, inclining his head towards the X-men, "As you said, you employ me to keep this country safe. I don't need flashy, egocentric superheroes to help me do my job."

"Were here to do our job," Storm said levelly, "just as you are. You handle your job, and your people, I'll handle mine."

"And watch as you take all the glory, while my people – honest, hard working ordinary people risk their lives."

"And what makes you think we aren't honest, hard working ordinary people too?" Warren snapped, "We have jobs, we pay taxes – taxes that pay your wages."

"What's got your cage so rattled, Angel?" the General snapped, "Does it rile you that some people don't worship you? You're nothing more than a bunch of celebrities and I don't have time for that. If this planet needs defending I can do it by myself."

Warren stepped forwards aggressively, much to the surprise of the other X-men who had never seen the usually calm Angel lose his cool, but Logan got there first.

"You wanna know why he's so edgy, bub?" he said, extending his claws so they pointed upwards at the general's throat, "Because the girl he loves is back home dying and her doctor is standing there," he pointed across at Hank, "doing his duty, ready to save the world and there's an idiot here who doesn't appreciate that!"

The General looked round at the X-men, who were all staring at him coldly. His eyes travelled past Mystique to the President, but he found no reassurance there.

"Wolverine, back off," Storm said after a moment, "You've made your point. If that idiot doesn't get it now he isn't going to ever. Let's just do what we came to do so Starbright didn't get left behind for nothing."

The General, the President, the scientist, Storm, Hank and Mystique gathered round the table to discuss tactics and plans, while the rest of the X-men stood around with the rest of the General's men, trying to avoid each other's gaze.

"Since when did you go all paternal on me, Wolverine?" Warren asked quietly.

"Since you started going through what I went through," Logan said, "I just hope it works out better for you in the end."

Logan started walking across to the other side of the room.

"Wolverine!" Warren called after him. Logan looked back at him, "Thanks."

She dried in the sun, standing with her arms spread wide. She could stand here all day, perfectly content, enjoying the freedom, the sunlight, the carefree nature of it all. Gone was the poverty and the repression, gone was the fear and the torment. She was free. But she wasn't. She couldn't just leave it all behind. Her path would take her back there someday and when it did, she had to be ready. With this in mind she walked and walked. How many days she wasn't sure, but around the city streets, along the beaches, listening, always listening. She learned their language, their words. She heard rumours of a power brewing in the nearby woods. Power, the thing she needed.
They had been stood in the small room for some time when the first mobile phone started ringing. It was one of the General's men, and he scrambled round, embarrassed, as he sought to silence it. When he pulled it from a pocket he stared at the screen in confusion. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked.

After a moment and a few more 'Hello's he looked over to his boss.

"Boss, you might want to listen to this," he said, then switched his phone over to speaker.

"Hello America," a voice said, "Please do not be afraid. We extend the hand of friendship. We will be great allies. We come in peace!"

"Sir!" a government official said, bursting into the room, "Something is overriding all our radio signals! It's playing this message over and over…"

He trailed off as he heard the words emitted by the phone.

"…do not be afraid. We extend…"

"That message," he said.

She found him, meditating in the centre of a clearing. He was old, not the power source she anticipated, but he could move metal with his mind. She had watched him for a long time. She knew his secrets, but he didn't need to know that. He took her in but she began to doubt. Was destructive power what she really wanted? Or would that turn her into Him? The gods provided her with an alternative path and she took it. She went with the boy Bobby and the girl Rogue (no, she was Rogue) back to her new source of power. The X-men.
"I don't like it," Storm said, "Something about this feels wrong."

"How do they know our language?" Bobby asked.

"They've been sat up there listening, Iceman," Mystique said, "They've learnt it."

"I say we blast them now," the General said.

"Then it is a very good job that no one is listening to what you say," Hank said with patience, "Let them land, we'll all be there when they do. One wrong move and then we can act."

"It's risky," Mystique said.

"Scared princess?" the General asked, "Why don't you leave this one to the professionals?"

Mystique looked up at him slowly. Suddenly she was in her true form, and before the General could even process what had happened she had knocked him to the floor with an elegant move and was standing on his throat with a blue foot.

"We are professionals," she said, the dual-tone returning to her voice, "Why don't you start acting like one?"

"Mystique," Storm put a hand on the blue-scaled woman's shoulder.

Mystique pressed down on his throat one last time then eased up, backing off.

"Nicely done," Logan said to her in a gruff undertone.

She gave him a smile that quite clearly said 'yes, I know.'

"Mr. President!" another government official burst in, "there's press swamping the building, and they want a statement."

"Ok," the President said, straightening his tie, "Let's get this show on the road."

Who am I? She thought.

She was a girl, stood on the edge of a precipice over-looking a land of terrible poverty.

She was a girl hiding in a corner screaming 'don't touch me!' as her boyfriend lay dying on her bed.

She was a girl at a party, laughing with her friends while drinking champagne.

She was a girl in the Statue of Liberty, powering a machine that would kill hundreds of people.

She was a girl a very long way from where she started out.

Who am I? She screamed to no one.

Rogue… a voice echoed.

That's right, I'm Rogue

(Rogue)

I'm Rogue.

(Wake up, come on!)

I'm Rogue!

"I'm Rogue…" Rogue woke up muttering.

At the sight of the metal walls of the infirmary she recoiled, her throat constricting as memories of being trapped for so long flooded her senses.

"I'm Rogue," she said more firmly, pushing the memories back.

Her heart still hammering in her chest she stood up and walked out, back up to the regular section of the mansion. Once back in between wooden walls, Rogue felt calmer. She wondered if the fear she had felt was purely because of the overwhelming strength of the memories in her mind, or if Jack suffered with the claustrophobia all the time. She certainly didn't show it if she did.

She walked up to Jack's room, struggling not to think of it as her room, and went straight in. She knew where she had put it (where Jack put it, she chastised herself) and easily located the strange black object she was looking for.

It looked so much like a mobile phone close up that Rogue doubted anyone would have questioned her possession of it. She wanted to know what it was really for, because it certainly wasn't for making phonecalls, so she dropped the mental barriers Xavier had taught her to raise against the onslaught of foreign memories that flooded her mind when she absorbed a person's spirit. As the barriers went down, like floodgates opening, her mind was swamped.

It was a gift, from her Mother, to protect herself. She had no gift, not like the others, not one she could use anyway. They would kill her if they knew the truth of who and what she was. She had to make it seem like she had the gifts like they wielded. A shield was perfect, and useful. Her Mother knew all the right people. Though poor, she was well connected, and there were many people who were willing to do anything for her, to ensure her survival. She was just five years old, she didn't really understand, but the new toy was fun.
Rogue pulled herself out of her own subconscious and trapped the memories behind the floodgate. Even with her barriers raised, she still felt a strange sentimental attachment to the object. Her Mother had given it to her, it was precious.

"Stop it, Rogue," she said out loud, "the only thing your Mother ever gave you was dirty looks and an order to leave!"

Firm in her identity again, she turned back to the object and turned it on. She didn't know how she knew how to do these things – and it certainly wasn't obvious – but it was like an instinct and she just listened to it.

Around her a shield appeared, shimmering slightly before it settled and turned completely invisible.

"She didn't shield the bullet because she didn't have her shield on her," Rogue answered her own question.

What this meant, she still wasn't sure, but she was one step closer to solving the mystery and helping her friend. Now she just had to find the next step on the trail.

She tried looking through the other things on Jack's desk. She found a CD and turned it over in her hands. She could see the writing on it, but the squiggles didn't form letters, they were just lines at random. Frowning, Rogue squinted harder, and with intense concentration she picked out the words. It was just an audio CD.

Thoroughly confused, Rogue turned round and caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror. Kitty was right – she was looking really thin. Thin and suddenly illiterate. Rogue walked up to it, placing her hand on the glass.

"What's happening to me?" she breathed.

Her breath misted up the cold glass and by the time it faded, she knew the answer.

"Incompatible energy… You've changed me Jack, I'm becoming like you," Rogue whispered.

Suddenly she knew what to do. Jack needed an X-gene to wake her from the coma, and the easiest way to do that was a blood transfusion, but she had no discernable blood-type. However, if Rogue had been sufficiently changed by absorbing her energy then surely their blood would be compatible.

It was a risk, but was it a risk worth taking? Should she just wait for Storm and the others to get back from whatever emergency they were dealing with.

"Hey Rogue?" the voice of Siryn startled her from her musings, "There's something wrong with the TV."

"I'll come take a look, honey," Rogue said, following her out of the room.

Rogue arrived in the living room, where the kid who changed the channels by blinking was sat blinking away, but no matter what channel it was changed to, it kept coming back to the same image.

The image was that of a man, probably in his thirties, and he was smiling while repeating the same message over and over again.

"…in peace. Hello America…"

Rogue frowned as she looked at his face. Something about him seemed familiar. Flashes of the young girl and the poor city kept assaulting her senses.

"I don't know, guys," Rogue said, "I'm not very good with mechanical stuff."

A feeling of foreboding was growing in the pit of her stomach. She didn't like the look of that man. His words were good, but something in his eyes wasn't. Something in his familiarity unnerved her. She knew he was bad and she had to do something. She had to wake up Jack.

She ran down to the medical room and grabbed Hank's emergency medical kit, accidentally knocking Jack's necklace to the floor. Hank had removed her necklace to avoid it getting caught as he tried to treat her. Rogue picked it up, experiencing the same rush of attachment towards the jewel as she had towards the shield generator. Memories of a woman with long brown hair and smiling eyes flashed before her eyes. Jack's mother…

Grimacing Rogue took out one of the medical syringes. Hank had taken blood samples from her before, to help make sure she was entirely healthy. She had always watched him do it. It looked easy enough, but could she imitate it?

Gritting her teeth, she pushed the needle into her arm, aiming for the vein. Fortunately for her, the vein on her arm was quite prominent and she hit it without too much trouble. She filled the syringe, trying to ignore the strange pins and needles like sensation that was creeping up her arm from her fingers.

When she thought she had enough, she walked over to Jack's sleeping body. The heart rate was barely registering now. If Rogue didn't do something, her friend would be dead within hours.

"Please let this work," she whispered like a prayer.

When the deed was done she went back upstairs and headed out into the town, warning the children to stay in the mansion. If radio and television were down, Rogue would have to find out what the strange message playing over and over again was the old fashioned way.

The newspaper vendor at the end of the street rubbed his hands together in glee. The papers he was selling were literally hot off the press. They had been printed moments ago in a nearby printing facility, and were being delivered to him in dribs and drabs as the lines finished. People were snapping them up faster than he could take their money.

With television and radio down, people were reverting to the old faithful newspaper to get their story. And the story everyone wanted was the mysterious message playing over and over again. Who was coming? Or what?

A pretty girl with long brown hair with two white streaks in the front walked up and grabbed a paper.

"Hey, you gonna pay for that?" the newspaper vendor asked.

She ignored him, and walked straight off, gazing at the picture that went with the headline.

"Hey!" he repeated, but others were clamouring for his attention so he had to let her go.

"Damn kids…" he muttered, picking up a paper to hand it to an old lady.

On the front was a picture of an approaching spaceship, the headline above reading, 'They come in peace!'

Please review:) Xx