Chapter Eighty-Five:

The first thing that pierced the hazy fog around her mind was a distant, echoing beep.

She latched onto the noise, trying to find its source, and the beeping began to grow louder as the world around her shifted. A tingling sensation went through her, and slowly she could feel her body coming back to life, stiff and sore. Her head was pounding, and she felt incredibly dizzy, but at least she was starting to regain conscious thought and awareness.

Her eyelids felt heavy, but somehow they managed to flutter open, and she instantly regretted it. The harsh white lights above her were painful, and she squeezed her eyes tight against the intruding light. After a few moments, she tentatively let her eyes drift open, blinking as they adjusted from the darkness where she'd been floating for what seemed like years.

The beeping noise was still present, and as she blinked up at the ceiling, she was finally able to place it. It was a vitals monitor, which meant she was in the hospital. That made sense, given the sickeningly white walls around her, and the sterilized taste to the air.

But what the hell was she doing in the hospital?

Not a hospital.

The voice was back again, the one that had guided her out.

This is the medical facility at my school, the voice explained. You're safe here.

A soft whirring noise captured her attention, and she turned her head, with some effort, to see a blurry shape moving to the side of her bed. It took a minute for her groggy mind to identify it as a wheelchair, and seated in it was a bald man dressed in a black suit, his hands steepled in front of him while his elbows rested on the armrests of his chair.

"Hello, Carol," the man said with a kind smile. "My name is Charles Xavier."

Xavier... why was that name so familiar? Wasn't he a doctor or a scientist or something? Or maybe a teacher? A professor?

Yes, a professor, that was it.

Charles Xavier was a professor of some kind, and he was a mutant, just like her.

A telepath.

"Wh..." she rasped, her vocal chords straining, unconditioned for such exertion after years of stillness. "Where...?"

"The school is called the Westchester Academy," Xavier answered. "It's a boarding school for mutant children to learn not only the basic academics, but also how to control their powers and how to coexist with baseline humans."

Well, that was X-man idealology if she ever heard it.

Stiffening in realization, Carol blinked up at Xavier. "Rogue?" she asked weakly, and winced at the rough, hoarse sound of her own voice.

"She's here," Xavier replied, tapping her limp hand reassuringly. "In fact, she's on her way down right now. I had to order her away from the med-bay so she'd get some breakfast, she was pacing outside for hours while I was trying to reach you."

Despite her overwhelming exhaustion, Carol's lips curved up into a faint smile. It would be good to see Rogue again, with her own eyes instead of just getting a mental impression whenever they visited through their link. In her mind's eye, she still saw Rogue as the girl she'd been during their time together, courtesy of Boliver Trask, a lost seventeen year old girl with the woman she'd grown into superimposed on top.

Quite suddenly, Carol realized that she hadn't seen her own face in well over four years, either.

She was about to ask Xavier if he had a mirror lying around somewhere, when a low whoosh signalled that the door was sliding open. Turning her head, Carol found herself staring at the woman in the doorway, who was dressed in comfortable jeans and a red sweater, long hair pulled back into a ponytail with fetching white streaks framing her tanned face.

"Carol!" the woman cried in delight, rushing over to her bedside and grabbing her hand. "Yo' awake!"

"Hi," Carol rasped with a weak smile.

It was strange, she had 'seen' Rogue just the day before, when the other woman came to visit her inside of her head with the news about the rescue mission the X-men had put together, and yet she felt as if she was looking at her for the first time in years.

It was a mute point that, technically, she was.

"Thanks for coming for me," she said, and the cracking of her voice wasn't entirely due to lack of use.

"Ah promised ya Ah would, remember?" Rogue said, smiling down at her.

Carol struggled up onto her elbows, her entire body feeling sore and useless, and Rogue swooped in to help ease her up into a sitting position, propping pillows behind her back for support. "How come I'm suddenly an invalid?" she inquired wryly, but her stomach churned nervously just the same.

"Your body is still in the process of awakening," Xavier explained. "When a person comes out of a coma, their bodies need time to adjust to the change. Sometimes it only takes a few hours, sometimes it can take days or even weeks."

"How long for me?" Carol asked, not relishing the idea of being cooped up in some med-room for any longer than she had to be.

"With your mutant genes and your invulnerability, I would expect you to be on your feet again within the hour," he replied calmly.

A surge of relief went through her, not only at the news that she'd be back at full strength soon, but at the mention of her invulnerability. "Does that mean my powers are back?" she asked breathlessly, daring an uneasy glance at Rogue, not knowing if regaining her powers would mean that Rogue had to lose them.

"Maybe when yo' feelin' up t' it, we can go out fo' a flight t'gether," Rogue told her with a grin.

"You still have my powers, too, then?"

"Yeah, looks like they're a part o' me now," Rogue answered sheepishly.

"Yes," Carol agreed, smiling faintly. "They are."

And rightly so, if she was honest with herself about it, because after fours years, Rogue had probably mastered her powers better than Carol ever could have. Neither of them had asked for it to happen, Trask had forced them into the experiment against their will, and while Carol had been unconscious at the time, she had seen memories of it in Rogue's mind, and she knew that the other girl had fought it, kicking and screaming the whole time.

They were both victims, kindred spirits who shared a horrifying experience that no one else alive could ever dream of understanding. Thanks to Trask, they had become each other, in every concievable way, and it had nearly destroyed them.

It probably would have, in time, had the telepathic thief not separated their psyches.

At first, it had been painful to see Rogue using her powers, to see her flying through the skies the way that Carol had been born to, but over time that bitterness faded, and she was able to be grateful that one of them, at least, had those powers at her disposal.

And now that Rogue was with child, that super strength and invulnerability was priceless.

Blinking, Carol looked up at Rogue with a look of wonder, extending her hand. "Can I?"

Sensing what she was asking, Rogue nodded, and Carol touched the other woman's stomach, splaying her hand across the flat surface, which didn't yet show signs of the life growing within.

"It's incredible," she murmured, smiling at her friend. "You're going to be a mother."

"Ah know," Rogue said, emerald eyes sparkling with tears. "Scary thought, huh?"

"Not at all," Carol assured her kindly. "I have no doubt you'll be a wonderful mother."

"Wish Ah had yo' confidence," Rogue sighed, dropping down into the empty chair next to the bed. "Ah didn' even have a proper role model in this area, ya know? Mystique was never really around, an' Irene, bless her soul, was more like an aunt than a parent. Too bad Ah didn' have yo' mother, she'd know how t' handle rugrats wit'out blinkin' an eye. Like when ya an' yo' brother got lost in the woods? Ah would have been panickin', but she stayed calm the whole time an' found ya'll right quick."

A bittersweet smile touched Carol's lips at the reminder of just how intimately her life had been spliced with Rogue's, how her memories had become an intricate part of Rogue's own psyche, buried just beneath the other woman's own thoughts.

"I have a feeling you'll learn fast," she replied. "Mom always said that parenting is one of those things that just comes naturally in time."

"Ah hope so."

"Um, I don't suppose you know how she's doing, do you?" Carol asked tenatively, biting her lip.

"Ah had Tessa track them down fo' ya," Rogue answered brightly. "They're livin' out in California now. Bought a nice house in a San Diego suburb, not too long a drive from the zoo. Ah've got the address an' everythin' upstairs, the Prof here said that the X-jet can take ya there whenever yo' ready."

Carol glanced at Xavier and swallowed. "Thank you," she said, her eyes stinging a bit.

"You're most welcome, my dear," Xavier replied, patting her hand. "I'll leave you two to catch up. If you need anything, just ask Rogue."

"I will," Carol responded as he wheeled towards the door. "Thank you."

"Ya already said that," Rogue pointed out teasingly.

"So what?" Carol retorted. "I'm grateful to the guy, he just saved my life... or my psyche, whatever. You know what I mean."

The smile on Rogue's face said that, yes, the other woman did know.

"I'm grateful to you, too, you know," Carol told her seriously, swallowing past the lump rising up in her throat. "I don't think I can ever say how much."

"Ah owed ya," Rogue said with a dismissive shrug. "After all, Ah'm the reason ya were in that coma in the first place."

Though her expression didn't betray her, Carol had known Rogue long enough, and intimately enough, to recognize the flicker of guilt that passed, ever so briefly, through her emerald eyes.

"No," she said fiercely, stirrings of half-buried emotion rising in her chest. "You're not the reason, Rogue. You never were. The only person to blame for any of this is Trask, and we both know that. He violated us, he raped our minds and our souls in that lab of his."

They both shuddered, almost in unison, thinking back to those dark days locked in cold, dark cells in Area 51.

"Don't absolve him of that guilt by taking in on your own shoulders," Carol ordered hoarsely, licking her dry lips. "It wasn't your fault anymore than it was mine, so no more apologizing, okay?"

"Yeah," Rogue agreed with a faint smile. "Okay."

Relieved, Carol returned the smile wearily, stifling a yawn.

"Tired?"

"Strangely, yes," Carol chuckled sheepishly. "You'd think after four years in a coma, I'd be wide awake."

"They probably weren't well-rested years," Rogue observed sagely. "Ya should feel better once ya get some sleep, let yo' body recover an' all."

"You're probably right," Carol replied with a sigh, then looked at Rogue evenly. "I mean it, though, I'm really grateful for what you've done for me. "

"It was nothin', sugah," Rogue began. "Ah-"

"It wasn't nothing," Carol cut her off, needing to say this as much as she figured that Rogue needed to hear it. "You never gave up, even when I did. You kept fighting for me, and that's..." she swallowed hard, feeling her eyes stinging with tears. "You didn't want Tessa to erase me completely, you made sure that I had familiar surrounding inside of my head to hang out in, you came to see me all the time and sometimes you even let me come back with you, just so that I could live through you for a bit."

That had always been bittersweet, because as much as she had enjoyed moving and seeing and touching, it had never been real, just a cheap imitation of life, but it had meant so much to know that Rogue trusted her enough to allow Carol control over her body for a few hours to go flying, to feel the wind in her hair again after so long.

For those precious hours, she had been free, even if she did have to return to the confines of her own mind at the end of the day.

"You gave me my life back, Rogue," she choked out, voice thick with emotion. "And I'll never forget that, not ever."

"An' Ah won' fo'get that ya gave me mah sanity back," Rogue replied hoarsely, squeezing her hand tightly, tears shining in her own eyes. "Ah didn' save ya, Carol, we saved each other."

Smiling through her tears, Carol nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. Instead, she hesitated for a moment, then leaned over to wrap her arms around Rogue, and hugged her for the first time.

Rogue hugged her back, without reservation, and for a long moment they clung to each other with a sort of desperate relief. They had come such a long way since their first meeting in a holding cell in Area 51, where she had warned Rogue about Trask and his experiments, never dreaming that they would soon end up partaking in one together, one which would change both of their lives forever.

Carol had been angry and bitter after, resenting Rogue for what had befallen her, but no matter how hard she'd tried, she'd never been able to hate the other girl, because deep down she had seen how Rogue agonized over their fate. In time, they had come to a sort of truce, mostly out of necessity to survive, but eventually that ill-forged truce had grown into a bond of trust, and then that trust had evolved into something akin to friendship.

Four years later, there wasn't a word for what they shared, for what they were to each other.

Friends, partners, sisters... whatever term best applied, there was no doubt in Carol's mind that Tessa was right about the nature of the link between them. No matter how much time passed, no matter how great the distance between them, she and Rogue would always be bound to each other, and if Rogue needed her, she would be there, at the drop of a hat.

They were always going to be a part of each other's lives now, there was no avoiding that, and somehow that didn't bother Carol in the slightest.

Drawing back, Rogue chuckled weakly. "We're a sight, ain't we?"

"At least you have an excuse," Carol pointed out ruefully. "You can blame it on the hormones."

"Lord knows Ah've been doin' that a lot lately," Rogue groaned, shaking her head. "Ah swear, the littlest things set me off nowadays, either Ah burst into tears or Ah start throwin' sharp objects."

"And you've got another seven months to go," Carol whistled. "Poor Remy."

"Ah know," Rogue sighed. "At least Logan's not tryin' t' kill him anymore."

"How's that going?" Carol asked skeptically. She had been shocked, to say the least, when Rogue had revealed to her during one of their 'mental tea-parties' as Remy called them, that Logan was her biological father. The two women had discussed at length how disturbing it was to think about him and Mystique actually procreating, but it was no nowhere near as bad as when Carol had jokingly suggested that maybe Sabertooth was Kurt's father, which had nearly caused Rogue to have a stroke.

It wasn't a pretty thought, that was for sure.

"It's kinda weird," Rogue confessed, scrunching up her nose. "Ah mean, it's Logan... Ah've always considered him mah dad anyway, but it's takin' some time t' adjust, ya know? Ah'm still tryin' t' wrap mah mind around the fact that he's the man who gave me life. Him an' a former mutant terrorist who up until a few weeks ago Ah thought could never be in the same room wit'out attackin' each other."

"They did attack each other," Carol pointed out with a snicker. "Just not in the way you expected."

"Oh God," Rogue groaned, burying her face in her arms. "Ah so need therapy."

"Probably," Carol agreed wryly. "But if you do, then so do I."

"The Prof could give us counseling," Rogue suggested sarcastically. "Maybe Kurt, Wanda and Pietro could join us. Lord knows we all need it."

"I'll say," Carol snorted. "I still can't believe Pietro Maximoff became an Avenger."

"Ah know," Rogue chuckled softly. "The boy is full o' surprises."

"He's come a long way since the last time I saw him on the island," Carol commented, then blinked, realizing she had actually never met Pietro, so to speak, because at the time she had been trapped inside of Rogue's mind. She'd been around him enough, though, and had even spoken to him once or twice when Rogue was feeling generous enough to let her have control, to know that Pietro was both more, and less, like his father than he thought.

In the end, though, he had chosen a different path than Magneto, deciding to fight for justice rather than domination.

No wonder Rogue had been beaming with pride when she told her the news.

"That he has," Rogue agreed with a smile. "We all have, really. It's kinda strange, seein' how much has changed while Ah was gone. Everythin' is so different now, everyone's got these new lives wit' new responsibilities, mahself included... now Ah'm jus' tryin' t' feel mah way around, figure out how t' bring these two different parts o' mah world t'gether into one life, ya know?"

"I know," Carol murmured, thinking that she would soon have to go through something similar once she left for California to be reunited with her parents. She would have to try and integrate the life before Area 51 with the life after it, and she knew it wasn't going to be easy.

Maybe she really would look into some kind of therapy, Xavier could probably help her set something up.

A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie, and Rogue called for the person on the other side to come in. When the door slid open, Carol was surprised to find Remy LeBeau entering the room with flowers in hand, and she blinked as he approached her bedside with his most charming smile.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he said, giving a dramatic bow as he offered her the bouquet.

"You brought me flowers?" Carol asked in disbelief.

"Figured since yo' family couldn' be here, someone ought t' show y' dat y' were missed," Remy explained with a shrug.

Not for the first time, Carol saw exactly why Rogue had fallen in love with this man.

"Thank you," she said softly, refusing to let tears flood her eyes again.

Rogue rolled her eyes at her husband, grinning conspiratorially at Carol. "He's such a snake charmer," she scoffed. "Ah don' know what t' do wit' the man." Behind her, Remy opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. "Not one word, Cajun."

Chuckling to herself, Carol smelled the roses she'd been given, wondering if Rogue had told him they were Carol's favorite, or if he had just counted on roses being a safe bet for any woman.

"By de way," Remy said, extending his hand. "We were never properly introduced, p'tite. M' Remy LeBeau."

"Carol Danvers," she replied, shaking his hand with a grin.

"It's nice t' finally meet y', Carol."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Remy."

"Congratulations on the family," Carol told him sincerely. "You must be excited about being a father."

"Oui," Remy agreed with a nod. "Nervous, but excited. M' hopin' dat de li'l fille will take after her mama."

"Fo' the last time, swamp rat," Rogue said indignantly, crossing her arms in a huff. "It's a boy."

"Whatever y' say, chere," Remy snorted, rolling his eyes. "But it's gon' be a girl. I got a second sense 'bout dis, t'ief's instinct an' all."

"What does bein' a thief have t' do wit' determinin' the sex o' our baby?" Rogue demanded.

"Everyt'ing, chere," Remy said, exasperated. "Everyt'ing."

Rogue narrowed her eyes murderously, opening her mouth to reply, and Carol burst out laughing, earning startled looks from the LeBeaus.

"I'm sorry," Carol insisted, unable to stop giggling. "It's just... the two of you..."

Rogue and Remy exchanged baffled looks, clearly wondering if all those years in a coma had caused her to come unhinged.

Flopping back against her pillow, Carol grinned up at the ceiling. "It's good to be alive," she announced, to no one in particular.

Translations:

fille- girl