III.

Up in his room, Logan tossed in his sleep. Chaotic thoughts and confusion raged in his dreams. Faces and memories he did not remember, and through it all, a repeated phrase. A recurring scene. A man in black. Over and over. Ssssshing! In his sleep, Wolverine released the adamantium claws on one hand and plunged them into the mattress as he lurched sideways. He flung his arm up next to his head, muttering incoherently. This was not like the nightmares that usually plagued him. This was foreign, strange, and these memories were not his own.

With a roar, Wolverine sat bolt upright in bed. He flung shredded sheets and blankets away from himself as the dreams dissolved to confused visions, except for a single word.

"Catalyst," he rasped. He was breathing hard, as if he'd run for miles. His heart was pounding, his body drenched with sweat. He felt like he had a high fever, and his head swam for a moment as he leapt to his feet. Dizzy for a moment, he leaned against the door jamb. He forced himself to breathe more evenly. His heart slowed, and the fevered feeling dissipated. The dream, once so vivid and confused, like a spinning carnival ride, had faded. He remembered only fragments. What had seemed so important? It evaded him now, reduced to that one word. What did it mean?

Logan ran down the stairs and boarded the elevator that led beneath the mansion. The ride was painfully slow and fueled his agitation. At last it stopped, and the doors opened into the medical bay. Logan sprinted down the white corridor, through sliding doors, and burst in upon Professor X, startling him awake.

"Chuck." Wolverine's chest was heaving, his heart pounding overtime again. His thoughts whirled incoherently. "There's something—something important. A dream, I think." He paused for a deep breath. "Catalyst," he gasped.

"Logan," Charles exclaimed in alarm, "are you all right?"

"I don't know," Logan panted. "I had dreams. 'Least I think they were dreams. I can't remember much now, but I ran down to tell you. That stuff in my head—and the word 'catalyst.' Does it mean anything to you?"

"No," the professor replied.

Wolverine wheezed, surprised. He was so sure that Xavier would be able to shed light on things. If only he could remember the dream. Or was it a dream? "Chuck," Logan continued, "I think the Rogue's thoughts are in my head."

Professor Xavier gazed silently at the exhausted man before him. He considered the implications of what Logan had said. "A transference."

"Yeah," Wolverine jumped at the suggestion. "I think so."

"But how…" began Professor X, trailing into silence. He thought for a moment, then asked, "Did the scenes in your dream repeat themselves?"

Logan started. "Yeah, they did, Chuck. They kept repeating over and over again. It's comin' back to me now. It was like the room was spinning, the way they repeated. Now you mention it, I think it was one scene that came back most. I saw that one face at least a dozen times."

"What face?"

"It was a girl," Wolverine recalled slowly. "Real tan. Black hair. Blue eyes. Always the same expression." He stopped. "Catalyst. I think it's a name."

"What else do you remember, Logan?" Xavier prodded.

"That's it, Chuck. That's all I remember clearly at all. Everything else is just a blur now."

Professor Xavier was quiet for a long, thoughtful moment. "Yes," he agreed at last. "It would seem that somehow, you've absorbed Rogue's memory. I don't know how that could be…but everything you've told me points to that."

"You gonna check it out?" Logan suggested.

"Yes," said Xavier decisively.

"All right," Logan concurred. "Go for it. Tell me what you find." He came forward and knelt on the ground before the professor's chair.

Charles placed thumb and forefinger on Logan's temples and closed his eyes. He knew Logan's mind would be no easier to navigate than Rogue's, but it would be safer. Even so, it would take all his concentration. He furrowed his brow and began moving through the fragments of Wolverine's shadowed past until he picked up where Rogue's mind had left off. Perhaps now he would find some definite answers.

Dawn. A new day. A rollercoaster from mansion to school to class. One scene flashed by, followed by another. The hallways, lockers, classrooms, faces. Muddled and chaotic. Then there was Rogue.

So much for her hopes for the morrow. This day had begun as badly as the last had left off. It wasn't so much her blunder in class from yesterday. Most of her fellow students had forgotten all about it. But their speculations on Zachary's absence constantly reminded her of the incident after school.

"Where's Zachary?" one girl wondered. "I didn't think he ever missed class."

"I heard he was in the hospital," another answered. "I don't know why. Maybe it's a concussion or something. He IS an athlete."

Rogue cringed.

Even though she wore gloves, Rogue felt the constant compulsion to keep her hands in her pockets. The light, long sleeves she wore felt too thin, her legs too bare in her long capris. 'Ah shoulda' put on some stockings,' she thought, then shook her head. 'Ah'm goin' crazy! Ah shouldn't have to make fashion blunders in order to cover up!'

If she remained more silent than usual, nobody noticed. Apart from her inner turmoil, Rogue's day turned out to be uneventful. Everything seemed pretty routine until the walk home from class.

In front of the school, Rogue stopped. The courtyard was beginning to fill, and she did not feel like maneuvering through a crowd. 'Maybe mah real mistake was leavin' ahead of everyone,' she thought. 'Naw, that doesn't make sense. It was the gloves.' She sighed. 'Ah'll just be the last one home today. Ah like walking home alone better anyway.' Resignedly, Rogue sat down on an empty bench. She then pulled out some homework from history class and began to read. At least she could get something done.

Rogue found herself quite engrossed by the book, which was usually a rather dry read. She was glad of something else to focus on. She could lose herself for a while and forget about everything else. She didn't even make notes, her mind so readily absorbed the information. Everything seemed so fascinating, so exciting—the rise and fall of civilizations, the historical events behind the world wars, the creation of new boundaries. Every life, a story, and every person a player in some wondrous game—

Rogue started. What was going on? She didn't remember ever being so interested in her reading before. Before now, she had only been able to lose herself to one of her novels, never a textbook. She looked at her watch. Had she really been reading for forty minutes? The courtyard was all but empty. The only other person around was a girl, sitting along on the bench across from Rogue. Rogue realized the girl had been watching. When the girl saw Rogue look in her direction, she stood and began to approach.

'Oh no,' Rogue thought; she didn't exactly know why her mind chose those words, except for her general dislike for company.

"You like history?" the girl asked. She was about Rogue's age, maybe a little older. Her complexion was much darker, especially compared to Rogue's pale white skin. Her hair was so black it almost looked indigo, and her eyes were large and piercing blue.

"Kind of…Ah guess," Rogue answered. The girl smiled.

"I love history," she stated, emphasizing the word 'love.' "It's like reading a long story. You'll never run out of books."

For a reason Rogue couldn't name, she felt uncomfortable. "Who are you?" she asked, then stammered, "Ah, um, Ah mean, what's your name?"

The girl chuckled; her laugh was light and airy. "My name is Catalina," she answered. Catalina fixed Rogue with her penetrating gaze.

Rogue almost forgot herself for a moment, then remembered her manners. "Oh. Nice to meet you. Ah'm Rogue."

"I know."

Rogue started. "You do?"

Catalina nodded. "I know all about you. We're alike, you and I."

Rogue stared. "How d'you mean?"

Catalina smiled sincerely. "Did you enjoy your history book?"

"Yeah; more than Ah usually do," Rogue answered.

"Why don't you read it again?"

Rogue shot Catalina an intensely quizzical look, then opened the book to the page where she'd left off. This time, however, the words seemed dry and uninspired. The information remained largely uninteresting. Had she really just read it as if the book were a bestselling thriller? That didn't seem possible. Rogue finished the paragraph and looked up, baffled.

Catalina seemed to enjoy Rogue's perplexity. "Not as interesting?" she asked. Rogue shook her head and Catalina giggled. "What if I told you it was my enjoyment you felt?"

Rogue gaped. "What're you talking about? What do you mean? How's that even—," She broke off.

"We both have our secrets."

"Ah don't know what you're—,"

"Please, Rogue. There's no use in pretending. You know exactly what I mean. And I know exactly what you are." Catalina leaned in closer. "My secret is the polar opposite of yours." She turned her face away from Rogue and seemed to peer into the distance. "I project my thoughts onto others. Feelings, notions, memories—even abilities. I can transfer to them my very essence if I want to." She again turned to Rogue, who was still staring, wide-eyed. "What do you think?"

"What? Well, Ah, Ah don't—what do Ah think about what?"

Catalina closed her eyes. Suddenly a thought exploded in Rogue's mind. Control. Of course. That's what Catalina was getting at. Just one touch, just the barest brush—and Rogue would never have to worry about another accidental absorption. She wouldn't need her gloves, her sleeves. Yes, she understood now. A circuit. An absorption preceding an immediate transfer, almost a trade-off. How carefree she would be, something she had never been before—

"No." Rogue stood quite suddenly. "It doesn't work like that. This is wrong. Professor X would be against this sort of—,"

"This sort of what?" Catalina cut in.

"This sort of solution."

"Doesn't he want you to be able to solve problems?"

Rogue was taken aback. What did she know? More importantly, was she right? "Well, yeah, but Ah don't think this is what he means."

"Why not? Is it too immediate?" Catalina now stood and faced Rogue, her eyes large in her placid face. She appeared perfectly calm, and somehow this made Rogue feel even more flustered.

"Yes," she answered at last. "It's too immediate."

"Haven't you waited long enough?" Catalina cocked her head. "What are you waiting for? Your powers are not going to magically go away, are they?"

"Ah hope not, Ah mean, no, that doesn't happen. Ah don't want to lose them. Ah just want to control them. Professor X is trying to help me learn to have control."

"Are you any closer than you ever were before?" Catalina probed. "Do you think that day will come anytime soon, when you'll never have to worry about touching someone?"

Rogue hung her head. "No," she mumbled. "Ah don't think it'll ever happen." She sighed. Then she straightened. "But this still feels wrong. Ah don't think it'd be right. It's just…too easy."

"But think of all the possibilities," Catalina pressed. "No more seclusion. You'd be so much freer."

Rogue felt her will begin to slip, but remained adamant. "No. Ah can't."

Catalina sighed. "You're not going to change your mind on this, are you? Well, if you do, you know where to find me."

"Ah do?" A picture entered Rogue's head. It was the courtyard, where she stood even now. "Here?" A nod from Catalina confirmed.

"Very good," Catalina praised. "You see how easy it is. But you had better get back to your mansion. Just remember—this opportunity won't last forever." With that, Catalina turned and started off, leaving Rogue staring after her. With a sigh, Rogue picked up her knapsack and began to head in the opposite direction, toward the mansion.

The scene flickered and blurred, like a dim reflection in the murkiest pond. Sounds grew muted as they do underwater. An indistinct dinner table, the distant babble of voices, plates and forks and spoons spinning away into oblivion and the darkness of night. Like someone watching a film while holding down the fast-forward button. A few pages of homework, a long and restless night of sleep…and the film resumes, all crystal clear and real again. Another morning.

Class and class and more class. Rogue wasn't sure she could stand it. She had been unable to concentrate at all. How notes materialized in front of her was a mystery; she barely remembered writing down a word. All she could think of was her strange visit yesterday. Catalina had offered her a solution, and Rogue had rejected it without even thinking. Was she just being stupid? Or should she trust her instincts? But what was the worst thing that could happen? Oh yes—control. That's what. How terrible.

The bell rang and jolted Rogue from her gloomy reveries. She stuffed her papers and books into her knapsack and melded with the throng of students on their way to the cafeteria. Automatically she stood in line in the cafeteria. She had too many things on her mind to try making her way through the crowded hallways to eat by herself. She barely noticed what kind of food she was served and somehow managed to grab a couple utensils at the end of the line.

The tables were filling up, but Rogue walked past them and out into the open air. For the first time in a few days, she joined Kitty and Kurt outside with her tray of food. She felt somehow reassured by the welcome on their faces. But still she could not keep her mind on their conversation.

"I'm telling you," Kurt was adamant, "'soccer' is a completely misleading name! Every country but America calls it fútbol, or Fußball!"

"I'm telling you, Kurt," Kitty exclaimed, "we already have a sport called football! Obviously we can't have two sports with the same name."

"But Kitty, you don't even like sports!"

"Yeah, well, you don't have to like something to have an opinion on it, do you? And maybe you should argue with someone who cares!"

Kurt sighed in exasperation. "Ach, all right, fine… Rogue, help me out here!"

Rogue looked up. "Huh?" She put down her fork. Her Jell-O was almost completely unappetizing anyway. "What do Ah think about what?"

"Were you even listening?"

"Yeah, you've been like, really quiet; I mean even for you," Kitty put it.

"Ja, what are you thinking about?"

"Oh…" Rogue debated for a moment about speaking her mind, then at last gave in. "Remember before you could control your powers? Like, right after they manifested?"

"Uhuh?" Kitty nodded.

Rogue thought a moment, then forged ahead. "Well what if was still like that, Ah mean right now? If neither of you could really control your powers." A breeze kicked up and blew Rogue's hair in her face, and she had to clamp a hand down on her nearly-empty paper plate, almost smashing her gloved hand into the red Jell-O.

"Huh. I don't think I follow you, Rogue," Kurt admitted.

"Ah mean, just think if you had no control over your powers. What if someone offered you a way to immediately have control? Would you take it?"

"Well," said Kitty, slowly, "I don't know. But I don't think I would. Like, at worst I would have fallen through the table in front of everyone, or something like that; nothing too terrible."

"Same," Kurt agreed. "Before coming here, sometimes I'd just disappear all of a sudden if I was startled or something. Tough to explain, sure, but it didn't happen that often."

Rogue saw that there was no way they could understand where she was coming from. "All right, well think about mah powers. Ah can't control them. All Ah can do is cover up my skin night and day and hope for the best. But accidents happen. What if suddenly Ah was able to control that?"

"You mean, like, with willpower or something?" Kitty asked.

"No…Ah mean, what if someone could give me something that would help me control mah powers?"

"Oh." Kitty thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Gee, I don't know, Rogue. That seems a little…too easy, y'know?"

"Ja, something like that," Kurt chimed in. "It goes against what the Professor has taught us all this time. I think it's better to learn to control it yourself."

Rogue felt indignant. "You said yourself nothing terrible happened when you couldn't completely control your powers. But me, mah powers can be harmful."

"I know what you mean," Kitty answered, "but I don't think that makes it right. I don't think the Professor would like that."

"How d'you know?" Rogue implored. "He wants us to have control, but mah powers so far can't be controlled at all! Ah can't help it. Would it be so bad to find control from a source other than mahself, or him?"

Kitty and Kurt exchanged a glance. Kitty shook her head. "I don't know. It just doesn't seem right. Like, I don't know, cheating or something."

"How is that cheating?" Rogue burst out. "To me it seems like an answer! How could that be so wrong?"

Her friends remained silent. "It doesn't seem right, that's all," Kitty murmured at last.

But Rogue had already made up her mind. As the school day ended, she became more and more certain of what she'd do. When the last bell rang, Rogue headed straight to the courtyard where she had met Catalina the day before. She pulled out her history book and pretended to read as the crowd thinned around her.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. The last few stragglers found their way down the front steps and walked off, chattering happily. The courtyard was empty except for two students, now standing before each other.

"I knew you'd come," Catalina smiled.

Rogue nodded, hesitant for a moment. Doubts surfaced. Was this really what she wanted? Yes. Rogue stepped forward decisively. With all her heart, yes.

"Chuck," Wolverine broke the silence. The Professor had surfaced from the disjointed world of memory and now sat in a brooding, contemplative mood. "What did you find?" Xavier didn't answer for several long moments. Then he turned and looked at Wolverine.

"A chance meeting," he mused. "Rogue met her exact opposite; at least where powers are concerned."

Logan gazed at him, stern and silent. "You don't mean…"

"Yes," Charles affirmed. "But I don't blame Rogue for the choice she made. In fact, in her shoes, I probably would have done the same."

"That's not what's bothering you, Chuck," Logan stated.

"No. You're quite right. That's not all, I'm sure of it. It's simply…too much of a coincidence. I feel like this meeting was set up by someone. I'm almost certain there is someone behind the scenes. But who? And why? Why now?"

Logan stood and regarded his friend for a long moment. "You should rest, Chuck," he said at last. "I'll watch over Rogue. We'll find more answers when you're fresh."

Xavier knew his friend's advice was sound; it was the same advice he himself had given many a time. The Professor chuckled wryly. "I suppose there are a few hours left to this night. I might as well make use of them."

Sorry about the wait. I didn't want the quality of the chapter to suffer for my lack of time. I've read stories where the sequels/chapters/parts degrade, and I did NOT want that to happen to this one. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I shouldn't have much trouble staying on-track in the future.