IV.
The night was long for Logan. It had taken all his willpower to let the matter of Rogue's malady rest for a few hours. But he knew the weariness of his friend was far more than his own. He knew that even a great telepath like Charles could not maneuver through two broken minds in one night without wearing out. Hours on end he paced, or stood in brooding silence over the cot where Rogue lay. His nerves tingled such that he could not sit down for more than a few moments at a time. His temper flared on occasion, and it was with great effort that he reined it in each time. The thought of someone setting Rogue up like this—that someone would do something to harm her so—it made his blood boil.
Dawn finally broke, and with it came another attempt at more answers. It was painfully slow going. Wolverine waited for the Professor's return. Xavier was not long in coming.
Logan nodded a terse greeting as Charles wheeled into the room and began to examine their patient. "It seems she is improving ever so slightly. That could just be the ebb and flow of her malady, however. It is hard to tell."
"You ready to do some more mind-reading?" Wolverine asked in a low, husky voice.
"Yes. I think this time I will do it on Rogue, however. The memories in your head ended rather abruptly, but I hope she has retained most of them herself." Xavier sighed. "I hope we are not running out of time, or wasting our efforts on what could be a dead end."
"No," Wolverine assured him. "Something tells me we're not. I don't know why, but all my instincts tell me that we're heading in the right direction. The trail is getting hotter, Chuck. I can feel it."
"I hope you're right." With that, the Professor brought himself to Rogue's side and placed a cool, damp cloth across her forehead. He did not want to risk her temperature rising if he had to probe more forcefully this time around. The deeper he delved, the more resistance he was sure to find. Xavier laid his palm over the cloth and took a deep breath.
Three days had passed since Rogue's encounter with Catalina. Sure, she now had most of the girl's memories, but Rogue resolved it would be her final absorption. Over time she would perfect the use of this new gift. She could filter out the things she didn't want; she could return memories, thoughts, and emotions to their owners, where such things belonged. Three days, and already she seemed to be getting the hang of her new power.
She had been practicing. Nothing too drastic or noticeable, just a prod here and there, a little change in behavior. Harmless little things, like mentally suggesting that someone ask for the salt at the dinner table. She had compelled Scott to take Jean for a drive the evening before, something she was sure they two of them would enjoy. But she dared not try anything on Jean herself, certain that Jean would detect any foreign, telepathic compulsion. She had already had a close call the morning before, when she made Kurt take the stairs instead of teleporting. Upon reaching the first floor, he had been completely baffled by his own action.
"What in the world?" he cried. "I took the stairs? Why did I take the stairs?"
"Gee, Kurt," Kitty teased, "are you feeling all right? You look a little winded. Stairs can wear you out of you don't exercise enough."
"But I never take the stairs when I'm at the mansion!" Kurt wailed. "What's wrong with me? Maybe I should go back to bed, I'm so confused," and with that, he'd begun to walk back up the stairs. That brought howls of laughter from Kitty and a few of the other mutants congregating in the foyer on their way to school. "What is going on?" Kurt yelped, realizing what he'd almost done a second time.
"Man, Kurt, relax!" Evan laughed. "Everyone else takes the stairs, there's nothing unusual about it."
Nightcrawler considered this, then sighed. "Maybe it's just pretending to be normal all the time. You start to act like you are." He shrugged, took a step forward, then grinned. "I'll beat you to the car!" and with that, he vanished.
Rogue breathed a sigh of relief. That had seemed a bit too close. Had she come close to being discovered? Fortunately, nothing came of it, and she was beginning to feel more confident. But if she could actually practice this newly acquired skill, she would be sure. Her garb was changing, too; she had begun to cover up less and less. Today she wore a pair of cutoff shorts that stopped just above her knees, as well as a tank top. She still wore gloves, however; a pair of long, black gloves that came up to her elbows. If she neglected to cover her hands, someone would certainly know something was up. Everyone would know eventually, but not yet. She had to prove that this gift could work.
'Ah'll perfect it,' she thought. 'They'll see Ah was right to take what Catalina offered. Ah just have to show them—especially Professor Charles. Ah'm sure he'll agree with me once Ah show that Ah can really control mah power.'
The school day passed uneventfully. Rogue smiled to herself as she opened to the last chapter in history. Another gift from Catalina was her new interest in history. The lecture passed quickly, and Rogue needed half as many notes as usual. She almost hung on every word, effortlessly storing away the rapid-fire historical facts. Dates, names, battles, she remembered nearly everything.
Class let out and Rogue stepped into the open air of the hallway. Unused to going sleeveless, she shivered. 'Ah shoulda' brought a jacket,' she thought, but smiled, knowing she'd have to get used to the feeling eventually. She was glad that she had worn the same black boots as usual. The morning before she'd tried on a pair of flip-flops. That had not gone well.
"How in the world are these things s'posed to stay on yer feet?" she'd burst out. "Who can even wear 'em except on the beach? Ya can't even call 'em shoes! Ah'm gonna trip and break an ankle as soon as Ah try takin' a step!"
Kitty laughed, seated on her bed and watching Rogue's vain attempts to walk normally in a part of blue flip-flops. "There's definitely an art to it," she chuckled. "But anyway, don't they leave your feet kind of, you know, bare?"
"Ah'm sure Ah'd be the worse for it if anyone stepped on mah feet," she asserted. Then she paused. Surely she could confide in Kitty, couldn't she? Besides, she would need a willing volunteer in order to truly test her newfound ability. Why not Kitty? She had made a small absorption before without knocking her out. But where could she even begin? No, not this time. Perhaps later. Instead, Rogue had kicked the flip-flops off her feet and slipped on her combat boots instead. When Kitty expressed concern over her shorts, which had been a pair of cropped capris at the time, Rogue replied, "Doesn't matter. Ah'm sure Ah'll be the only one wearing shorts today. Ah'll take what Ah can get." Kitty seemed unconvinced. "Believe me, nothin's gonna happen! Ah'm just…tired of wearing long pants in this weather. That's all." Kitty shrugged resignedly, if a little uncertainly, and that was that.
Still, at lunch time, Rogue decided to keep her distance from her friends. She felt a little chafed; would she have to avoid everyone until she proved her control? Maybe she had jumped the gun with her new attire; maybe she had tipped her hand a bit too far. Impatience welled up inside her. With a deep frown, she sat alone at a table outside. The cooler weather had kept most students from venturing out today. Rogue sat back, trying to enjoy the chilly sensation of cloudy weather and a light spring breeze. 'Soon,' she told herself, 'it won't matter anymore.' With practice, it would become second nature. Action-reaction. Almost a reflex. But still, she felt somehow on-edge. Rogue finished her lunch and took her empty tray back inside.
The remainder of the school day passed uneventfully. As usual, Rogue joined the throng of students leaving the school building. But when she saw Scott and Jean up ahead, she took a detour behind the school buildings. Kitty and Kurt were easy enough to reassure, but Scott? And Jean? No way. Boy would they ever lecture her. That was the last thing she needed right now. 'Ah'll go home the long way,' she thought, skirting along the side of the school buildings. She hurried past one, then another, eyes forward. She did not see the shadow waiting behind a corner as she walked by, but the voice stopped her in her tracks.
"I heard the rumors, Cher, but I wouldna' believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself."
Startled, Rogue whirled about. "What're you doing here?" she demanded.
"I heard a friend of mine discovered she had a hidden talent. Wanted to see for myself," Gambit answered, arms folded across his chest as he leaned easily against the brick wall, perfectly relaxed.
Heard? Heard from whom? Rogue's heart skipped a beat. How could he possibly know anything? "How'd you—who told you—," she stammered.
Gambit chuckled. "Let's just say, word gets around in my circle," he replied in his low, Cajun drawl.
Rogue thought for a minute. Could Catalina possibly be..? No. There was no way. Rogue had absorbed the girl's memories. She would know if Catalina were somehow affiliated with the Acolytes. Still, that didn't explain how suddenly Remy seemed to know all about the arrangement. 'Well,' thought Rogue, 'no point in bein' all secretive. Time to put mah cards on the table.'
"How do you know Catalina?" she asked.
"You mean Catalyst?" Remy smiled. "Oh, she's freelance. Done us a favor or two. Jus' little things."
"Catalyst?" Rogue asked. "Why's she called that?" The name had an ominous sound to it; and there was the meaning, too. It gave Rogue a feeling of dread.
"Oh, I'm sure you can guess, Chérie. All in the name. She gets things started. Gets some little ol' events moving in the favor of whoever's willin' to pay."
"Pay?" Rogue asked. "Ah didn't give her any payment."
"Non—but someone did." He smiled. "Catalyst isn't what you'd call the altruistic type."
Rogue was silent for a long moment. "Are you warning me?" she asked slowly.
"Warning? Naw, Cher, no warning here. I'm jus' givin' you some information you might find useful. Don' want you goin' about this with your eyes closed." He smiled cryptically. "Jus' lookin' out for you, Cher."
Rogue smirked. "Ah see. Ah guess Ah should thank you properly, then, shouldn't Ah?"
"No thanks is necessary, Rogue. I only wanted you to know a little about the source of your new power."
Now Rogue chuckled. "To be honest," she answered lightly, "Ah don't really care." With a smile, she stepped toward him. "Ah have control. That's all that matters."
"Do you, now? How do you know?"
"Ah don't know—Ah won't until Ah try." For a moment she hesitated. Could she trust Gambit? No, of course not. He was probably the last person in the world she should trust.
Perfect.
Rogue pulled off a glove and put her hand on Remy's shoulder. "What d'you say to bein' mah first real test subject?" she asked, her face close to his. And with that, she kissed him.
It worked. Oh, sweet bliss, it truly worked! It was like energy, like tiny sparks of electricity coursing through her. A circuit. A perfect circle. A vague current of memories and feelings swept across Rogue as Gambit kissed her back, but the images and emotions had no substance. They passed like shadows over her, through her, and returned to their owner, leaving but the vaguest imprint upon her mind. Instead of a full-on absorption, she felt only a sense of déjà vu—like there was something she couldn't quite remember.
Rogue pulled back and smiled triumphantly at Remy. His sideways smile showed no sign of surprise, only the satisfied look as usual. But by the expression in his eyes, Rogue knew he felt pleasantly surprised. This pleased her.
"Last time you kissed me," he mused, almost teasingly, "you knocked me off my feet. Down and out."
"Ah wish Ah could remember that," Rogue laughed. "But things are a little different now."
"Good for you, Cher," Remy congratulated her. "Good for you." Rogue barely heard him. His hand had closed over her bare fingers. It was a sensation she hadn't dared to hope for, something she would never forget.
It was with a feeling of euphoria that Rogue made her way back to the mansion. She had her proof. If anyone questioned her, she could say with absolute certainty that her powers were under her control. And if they didn't believe her, well, she could just show them. She almost looked forward to their incredulity.
It was not the first time she was the last one to the mansion. She knew that any confrontation would have to wait. All the same, she was a bit disappointed to walk into an empty foyer. After briefly glancing around, Rogue shrugged to herself and walked upstairs, still jubilant.
She walked into her room to find Kitty busy over some homework. "I wondered when you'd show up," Kitty mused, and looked up. "Um, were you dressed like that all day?"
"Yes Ah was," Rogue smiled triumphantly.
"Okay, now don't take this the wrong way," Kitty tried to choose her words carefully, "but that's just asking for a mishap."
Rogue could have laughed aloud. She could have burst into gales of laughter, she felt so good. Barely able to contain herself, she replied, "That's not gonna happen anymore."
Kitty didn't know what to make of Rogue's excitement. The girl beaming at her did not seem like Rogue at all. "Rogue, are you all right? You're acting really strange…for you, I mean."
Now Rogue did laugh. "Ah guess it's time Ah told you, told everyone—Ah can control mah powers now!" She grinned ecstatically.
Kitty gaped. "What? I mean, are you sure? How do you know?"
"Just trust me. Ah've been able to try it. Want me to show you?" Rogue pulled off her gloves. She did not need them anymore. "Give me your hand."
"N-no, I don't think so," Kitty answered suspiciously.
"Kitty, come on, it's not like we haven't done this before. Remember? Ah barely touched your fingertip. No harm was done."
Kitty wasn't completely convinced, but she nodded. "All right, but just a fingertip." She got up and extended her index finger.
"Just focus on something. Like homework. Think about your homework," Rogue instructed, reaching forward and placing her finger against Kitty's. Rogue felt something like a tiny static shock, then nothing but the familiar rush, much more muted this time, almost indiscernible.
"Whoa," Kitty exclaimed when she pulled her hand back. "I didn't feel anything."
"And Ah don't even know what homework you're working on. No absorption at all."
"That's great, Rogue," Kitty said, "but what if you accidentally touched someone and weren't prepared? I don't think it'd work then."
To her chagrin, Rogue couldn't argue with that. She had not yet had enough practice for it to become second nature. But she didn't want to admit that outright. "Ah'm sure Ah ccould handle it."
"Well, maybe you'd still better change before we head down for dinner."
Rogue wasn't sure why her temper flared. "No. Ah'm not changin'. There's no need."
"Okay, but at least your gloves—,"
"NO! No more gloves! Not ever! And you can't tell me what to do!" Didn't Kitty trust her? Couldn't she see that there was no more need for the constant covering? Those days were in the past.
"Rogue, please! Just until you're better at it?"
"Ah won't GET better if Ah'm always wearin' mah gloves! Ah'm through! Ah'm ready now! And if you don't believe me, well, Ah don't care!" Angrily, Rogue stormed from their room. "Ah'm goin' for a walk," she shouted back.
Down the stairs and out the door, Rogue fumed inwardly. Just minutes ago she'd been on top of the world. Hadn't she proven that she had complete control? Why did a little extra practice matter? Maybe it wasn't a reflex quite yet, but she'd just have to concentrate. It wasn't that hard. "Ah don't need more practice," she muttered. "Ah'm fast enough."
It was raining, but she didn't care. The cool water felt refreshing against her skin. A walk in the rain is what she needed. She needed to calm down. She needed to relax. She still felt roiling anger inside her chest, and her head hurt. Probably from shouting. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. She felt a little feverish. 'Ah'm probably just all worked up,' she thought. 'Ah shouldn't have lost it. Ah can't expect everyone to just accept that Ah suddenly have control of mah powers. That's not fair.' She sighed, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the rain in exasperation.
She walked on, through the front gates and away from the mansion. She had no destination in mind, she just walked. The sky was dark, even though her watch only showed 4 PM. Thunder rolled in the distance. Probably just a passing storm. The wind had kicked up a bit, but that didn't bother her. She followed the wet sidewalk, not caring where her feet took her. She turned right, then left, and right again. How far was she from the mansion? Rogue couldn't even guess, though she knew she'd find it again if she simply backtracked.
Again she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. It was hot. Was she getting sick? Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to go out in the rain. Her head hurt. She was getting a pounding headache. 'Ah should head back,' she thought, turning in place, 'before Ah start to feel any worse.'
Though the breeze and falling rain were cold, Rogue felt increasingly warm, like she'd run for miles on a hot day. The rain splattered against her skin and hissed. She looked down at her hands. Steam rose from her bare arms. "What in the world..?"
A wave of heat washed over her. She gasped, clutching her head. What was this, a sudden onset of the flu? Why was she so hot? She burned with fever. Reaching down, Rogue yanked her boots from her feet, then her socks, which she flung away. She staggered forward. Her watch showed 4:30. Another thirty minutes and she'd be back at the mansion, everything would be fine. She would change into something dry and sit down to dinner with everyone at the mansion. Just a little farther… Rogue's vision blurred, and her feet, bare against the thankfully cool, wet pavement, felt leaden. Her boots dropped from her hands. Rogue barely noticed. Her body screamed for her to stop, to sit down, to lie down, to stop moving and rest.
Her head throbbed. Her hands were burning up, and the rain hissed and sizzled against her skin. She pulled at her tank top, trying to loosen the material which clung to her, constricting her. The rain cooled her a little, but at the same time seared her skin, a cocoon of boiling water.
Rogue fell to her knees, shivering. "Kitty," she hissed. "Kurt, Jean, Professor, someone—help…" Her voice was weak, almost silent, even to her own ears. She collapsed against the brick wall that ran along the sidewalk. She fought for consciousness, but reality seemed to blur. 'Jean, Professor,' she called silently, 'where are you?' and slipped into blackness.
Professor Charles could fill in the blanks. Kitty had come downstairs with a headache, looking for Rogue. She said Rogue had been acting strangely, lashing out at her—but she could not remember why. She remembered that Rogue had gone for a walk in the rain, and asked if she'd come back yet. Scott, Jean, and Kurt had left to look for her. How clearly the scene played again in Charles' mind.
A quarter of an hour passed before the Professor got Jean's psychic call. He could tell something was wrong, and when at last he and Logan arrived at the scene in the X-van, Rogue and Nightcrawler lay unconscious on the sidewalk.
"He tried to 'port her to the mansion," Scott had explained, tension in his low, even tone. "I don't know what happened."
"Scott, you get Nightcrawler in the front seat," Professor Xavier directed. "Jean, you're the only one of us who can move Rogue without touching her. Put her in the very back—gently. We don't want to get too near her."
It was tricky getting Rogue from the van to the medical bay, but at last it was done. Jean tried hooking her up to a heart monitor and an IV.
'I can't get the IV in,' Jean reported to Charles telepathically, who was in the adjacent room with Nightcrawler. 'Maybe I'll have better luck with the heart monitor, but I can feel the heat even when I use telekinesis.'
This alarmed Professor Charles. 'Jean, no, stay away, I think you should get out of there,' he communicated.
'But I'm so close, if I can just get the sensors a little closer—ah!'
'Jean!' No answer.
Professor Charles had found Jean slumped over in a chair next to Rogue's bed, unconscious, unresponsive, but stable. Now Charles and Logan were at it alone.
But at last Professor Charles had the answers he needed. "Logan," he said, "we need to find Catalina." He took his hand from Rogue's brow.
Without warning, Rogue sat bolt upright in the hospital bed. "Professor," she gasped. "Logan." The two men started, utterly shocked. Rogue's eyes were wide. She glanced around the room, from Logan to Xavier, then jumped to her feet. "Ah gotta go somewhere. You comin' with me?"