Chapter
One:
She has never been afraid of the dark before.
Even as a kid, she had never needed a night-light or the door left cracked
open. The dark had never frightened her; she had always felt peaceful there, at
ease. Like the blackness around her was a protective glove that kept her safely
away from the rest of the world.
Now, though, she was growing to hate it.
Maybe it was being alone in the dark that bothered her. Odd, really, that the
loner who preferred to be on her own would miss the presence of others so
terribly. But it had been so long since she's seen a friendly face, since she'd
had the relief to look upon her friends.
When they'd first been captured, she had seen many mutants dragged back to
their cells, battered and broken, severely beaten, crying and sobbing as they
pleaded with the guards to give them death.
Testing, was that the other mutant captives would explain.
Trask's testing.
Her own tests were agonizing, but never as much as seeing her friends come back
from theirs. Evan would come back stoic and comatose, staring at nothing for
days without so much as a word. Fred would come back crying. Mr. McCoy would
whisper prayers in a voice choked with blood and tears.
She had seen Logan only once, and his bloody, broken body had brought her to
tears. He'd looked up at the sound of her crying, and their eyes had met across
the bars dividing them. She had seen the horror flash in his dark eyes, the
rage and despair at seeing one of his students-particularly her, whom he has
always had a soft spot for-forced to endure the same suffering as him.
He had spoken then, and she replayed his words over and over in her head each
day, desperate to hear his voice, even though she found that with every day
that passed, it was harder and harder to remember what his voice sounded like. Hang
in there, Stripes, he'd grunted. Don't let 'em break ya. You're a tough
kid, don't let 'em take that from ya.
The guards had moved him that night and she had never seen him again.
Though she missed Logan fiercely, it had been comforting to have the others
there with her, to know that she wasn't alone in her suffering. Evan had tried
to make jokes sometimes, and they all laughed. Even though it was forced. Fred
had rambled on about how he was going to bring down the whole base when they
got out, as soon as he got himself a sub-one of those huge party sized ones.
Mr. McCoy had quoted the words of famous authors to them, words meant to
inspire hope and strength.
But soon they, too, were relocated. She has not seen them, any of them, in so
long. She doesn't know how long it's been, because the days and nights sort of
bleed together into an endless span of darkness. Has it been weeks? Months?
Years? Part of her mind wonders if they ever even existed, or if they were
merely a hallucination. But she knows they weren't, for she remembers life
outside of this darkness. She remembers classes and battles, music and
television. She remembers laughter and smiles, concerned looks from friends and
housemates. But all of that is so distant, so faded, that only the logical,
detached part of her mind knows that any of it is real.
It is in that part of her mind that images, flashes of familiar faces and
echoes of comforting voices, play over and over. It hurts to think about them,
but she has to, or else she will not be able to convince herself that they are
real memories, and not just dreams.
Lord, she missed them. All of them. But in some ways it was easier not being
around them. Being around them made her think of the others. Of those who had
not been captured. Their friends, their fellow X-men. Even the Brotherhood
members.
Jean. Perfect, smart, beautiful Jean. They had never gotten along that well,
but she knew that Jean cared. She cared, too, though she had never showed it.
Kurt. Funny, gentle, caring Kurt. He was such a dear friend. Would she ever see
him again? Kitty. Oh God, Kitty. Her roommate, her best friend. They were
complete opposites, but how badly she wished for the chance to argue with the
younger girl about something stupid like music again. Storm. The woman who was
like an aunt to all of them, not just her nephew Evan. The Professor. He had
been so good to her. He had done all he could to help her control her powers,
to help her come to terms with who she was.
And those who had stayed behind at the mansion. Scott. Handsome, witty Scott.
Her leader. Her friend. Bobby. Mischievous, troublemaker Bobby. He always tried
to make her laugh. Amara. Pretty, sweet Amara. She liked her, she really did.
The girl was hard not like. Roberto. Cocky, smooth talking Roberto. He was a
notorious flirt. Sam. Simple, kind Sam. The other Southerner in the mansion.
They had enjoyed cooking together some evenings, laughing at the familiar smell
of home-cooked meals. Ray. Wild, crazy, slightly insane Ray. She thought he was
nuts, but he was a lot of fun. Jubilee. Rambunctious, free spirited Jubes. That
girl could talk her way into trouble with the snap of her fingers. Rhane. Wise little
Rhane. She knew so much, especially for one so young. Jamie. Clone Boy, as she
had started to affectionately call him. The kid was just too sweet for his own
good. Until you ticked him off, that is. Then he was a force to be reckoned
with. Well, more like several forces.
She missed all of them, and not knowing what had happened to them was almost as
unbearable as being in the dark.
Maybe it wasn't her that was afraid of the dark, though. Maybe it was Carol.
Maybe she was afraid of the dark, and her fear was infecting her.
Not my fault, Carol sneered in her mind. You're the one who did this
to me.
In her mind, she saw that fateful day all over again. Trask's men had come into
the cell she was sharing with Evan. They had dragged her out, despite her
struggling, despite Evan's attempts to stop them. They must have drugged her
somehow, because when she came to again she was laying on a surgical table,
strapped down by a dozen bindings. There had been a something, a metal claw,
wrapped around her wrist, moving her hand towards the other surgical table
beside her...
Shut up, she shouted in her mind. It wasn't mah fault and ya know it.
Trask had me chained down t' that table, same as you. There wasn't anythin' Ah
could do!
She had turned her head groggily to see what was happening, and her blood had
run colder than ice when she saw what Trask intended. Lying unconscious on the
table next to her was a young woman, a fellow mutant named Carol. The two had
met briefly during her first few days of captivity. Carol had warned her about
the experiments.
Neither of them had ever dreamed they'd be part of one together.
You should have tried, Carol snapped angrily. Because of you, I'm
lying in a coma somewhere, and you stripped me of my powers, my thoughts, my
memories!
She had screamed, cried, sobbed, as she fought wildly to stop it from
happening. But the claw was too strong, and she was too weak, and she could do
nothing but watch in horror as her bare hand touched the side of Carol's cheek.
There had been an explosion of white behind her eyes, as Carol's powers, her
memories, her very life essence, seeped into her veins.
Ah didn't do it on purpose! she cried. If Ah could, Ah would take it
all back, Ah'd find a way t' stop Trask! But Ah can't, Carol, and neither can
you. Ah'm sorry, Ah really am.
When it was over, she was different. She wasn't the girl she had once been. She
had new powers, permanent powers. The super strength, invulnerability and
ability to fly that had belonged to Carol Danvers now belonged to her.
But she had absorbed more than just Carol's powers. She had absorbed Carol
herself. And in her mind, the two of them were forced to coexist. For Carol's
body was limp on the table, nothing but a shell of the person she had once
been.
That doesn't help, though, does it? Carol scowled.
Carol hated her for what had happened.
She hated herself for it, too.
No, she agreed pitifully. Ah don' s'pose it does. But Ah'm still
sorry.
There was silence in her head after that, and she felt Carol retreat to the
farthest corners of her mind to be alone.
Not for the first time, the X-Man known as Rogue was completely alone.