. I .

Joseph was, at present, not a happy man.  He had woken up that particular morning to find that Rogue had not returned to bed from the night before.  His initial sense of worry had given way to frustration.  The first six or so months that the two of them had been together, Rogue had been through a terrible ordeal.  He, in part, had been the one to help her recover from that ordeal.  Her powers stripped, Rogue’s mind had been in turmoil, unable to juggle round the myriad personalities that were still trapped in there.  For a while, he – along with Xavier, the Beast and Sage – had been able to repress the larger part of Rogue’s symptoms.  But now, it seemed that Rogue was losing control again.  The dreams, he was certain, were just a part of her growing inability to curb the psyches in her mind.  But for some reason Rogue seemed hell bent on believing that these dreams were a reality.  He had tried to understand her.  He had tried to help and reassure her just the same as he always had.  But she was being so stubborn.  And their relationship was suffering for it.

            He wasn’t sure whether to get out of bed and look for her or remain where he was and go back to sleep.  In the end he got up anyway, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore; and anyway, he truly cared for her, no matter how things stood between them.  Whatever the truth of the matter, the two of them had to sort things out.  And whatever it was she was going through, she would need his support.

            Fifteen minutes later and he had found her, lying on the kitchen floor, curled up into a ball, asleep.  There was a peaceful look carved onto her face, giving the angelic impression of one lost in innocent dreams.  Looking like that it was not hard for his heart to suddenly warm to her once more, despite his frustration.  Walking over he bent down beside her and shook her shoulder gently.

            “Rogue?  Rogue, darling, wake up.”

            She stirred, her brow furrowing as she surfaced from sleep into wakefulness.

            “Gambit?”

            Joseph frowned.  With that one name the warmth suddenly went out of him.

            “It’s Joe, Rogue,” he said, attempting to keep the sudden hardness from his voice.

            She opened her eyes, confused.

            “Joe?  Who’s Joe?” she muttered, wiping her sticky mouth with the back of her hand. “Gambit, I have to find Gambit.  We need him.” She suddenly stopped, looking around in bemusement. “Where am I?  Was I sleeping?  And who are you?”

            There was panic rising in her voice – he could hear it.  What worried him more was that it wasn’t Rogue’s voice that was speaking at all.

            “Rogue?” he spoke anxiously as she began to sit up. “Rogue, what’s the matter with you?”

            She did not answer.  Groaning she put a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead tentatively.

            “Nothin’, Joe.” This time the voice was Rogue’s familiar, southern tone. “Mah head’s just hurtin’ like there’s no tomorrow, that’s all.”

            He helped her sit up, suddenly speechless.  Something strange had just happened and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.  He wasn’t even sure that Rogue herself knew.  She certainly didn’t seem to realize anything out of the ordinary.  Taking her by the shoulders, Joseph looked deeply into her eyes.

            “Rogue…Are you okay?  Apart from the headache, I mean.”

            “O’ course,” she answered, a little taken aback by his seriousness. “Why shouldn’t ah be?”

            “You were talking…strangely,” he explained, at a loss to know how to carry on.

            “Was ah?” She looked about her, her green eyes suddenly narrow. “Ah was dreamin’…” she half-whispered.

            “Another dream?” Joseph repeated, worried.  What was happening to her?  Why couldn’t he get through to her?

            “Ah don’t know…Ah can’t remember.” Her shoulders dropped; suddenly she looked bewildered.

            “Rogue,” he began grimly. “Are you sure you’re all right?  Just now you were talking in another woman’s voice.  You didn’t even recognize me.”

            “Didn’t ah?” There was amazement in her green eyes.

            “No.” He decided to leave out the Gambit part, however that happened to fit in with this latest strange episode.  Remy LeBeau still happened to be a sore subject with Rogue, and he was less than happy to bring up the matter of the wayward Cajun thief.  He simply helped Rogue to her feet and resolved to keep this bit of information to himself – for now. “Rogue,” he said soberly. “I think we should go and inform the Professor about these dreams.  Something strange is going on inside that head of yours and what happened just now confirms it.”

            “Confirms what, Joe,” she looked at him, unable to keep the sudden fear from her eyes. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Rogue.” He took in a breath. “I have a feeling someone’s personality is trying to take yours over.”

*

“Ah’m not crazy!”

Rogue was in the medical lab, pacing back and forth like some trammeled animal.  At first she had agreed to go with Joseph to see the Professor and Hank McCoy – but as soon as she had got here, she had somehow flipped.  It was all Joseph could do to attempt to calm her down.  When he’d put his arms round her and reassured her that no one was forcing her to take the medical tests, she had pushed him away, accusing him of thinking that she was insane.

“Rogue, I’m…no one’s saying that you’re crazy,” he pleaded with her.  Why on earth did he suddenly feel so helpless?  It broke his heart, to see her walking around the room like this, face frantic, green eyes wild.

“But you’re thinkin’ it!” She stopped in the middle of the room, raising a finger to him accusingly, her expression raging. “You’re suggestin’ that ah’m losin’ mah mind to someone else’s.  You said it yourself, Joe!  You’ve been thinkin’ it ever since these dreams started!”

“Rogue…” he began, but the Professor suddenly sent him a mental signal to keep quiet.

That’s enough, Joseph.  Let me deal with her.

Joseph fell silent.  He didn’t want to give up trying on her.  But he knew it was better for the Professor to talk to her first, without any of the emotional ties the two of them shared.

“Rogue,” Xavier spoke, moving forward in his hoverchair. “No one’s suggesting that you’re crazy.  We are merely concerned for you.  It is entirely possible that you have not fully recovered from your ordeal six months ago.  Now you know that Hank, Sage and I tried our best to help you then – perhaps it was not enough.  That is what we are here to find out.”

The Professor’s pacifying tone had an immediate effect.  Rogue visibly calmed.  Her shoulders suddenly dropped as though defeated.

“Professor, ah don’t want to go back there…” she begged, her voice small.

“I know,” Xavier assured her softly. “To take a step backward is often harder than taking a step forward.  But we haven’t established that yet, Rogue.  And if it is the case, then we are all offering you our support, unconditionally.”

“The Professor’s right, Rogue,” Hank put in gently. “If it is true that one of those psyches in your brain is trying to take over, then we will all to our utmost to help you – together.  But if not – well, let’s just take this as a check up on your progress.”

For a moment Rogue looked uncertain.  She cast a short, beseeching glance in Joseph’s direction, as if asking for his help in making her decision.  Joseph smiled as reassuringly as he could.  Why did she look so vulnerable, so uncertain of herself…?  He wanted to love her.  Why did she keep on pushing him away?

“All right,” she said at last, turning her gaze away from his. “Ah’ll let you do the tests.  But please, whatever you find, ah want you to tell me straight.  Ah don’t want t’ be treated like ah’m goin’ insane.”

“No one will do that, Rogue,” Xavier replied soothingly. “We promise you that.”

There was something in Xavier’s face that Joseph couldn’t quite read.  A concern, a tiredness, a despondency that seemed out of place on the stalwart professor’s face.  It was not surprising – recently Xavier had been anxious over Jean Grey, one of his oldest pupils, who had mysteriously gone into a coma.  Even worse was the fact that the consciousness of her husband, Scott Summers, had been trapped inside her own.  That matter in itself had placed a considerable weight on Xavier’s shoulders.  But what Joseph saw on his face now as he looked at Rogue, was something different.  He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was fear.

*

It was later, and Professor Charles Xavier had gone to visit the infirmary’s latest patient.  It was true that there had been a lot on his mind recently.  It had seemed ironic that of all the super-villains the X-Men had had to deal with over the years, the one that posed the greatest threat had been none other than Destiny herself.  He should have known that a precog would have the potential to tap into the greatest force known to man – that of time, of fate itself.  Upon her death, Irene had discovered herself to be an X-Ternal – and more than that, a being of pure energy able to extract itself from the very fabric of time.  Roma, the Omniversal Guardian and keeper of all time, had entrusted Xavier with the complex task of sifting through Irene’s cryptic journals.  To what end?  To find out if the long-dead woman had left a clue as to how they might stop her from making the Timestream – and thus fate itself – her own.  Even with the considerable talents of both Sage and Cypher, as of yet no solution had been forthcoming.  And even worse was the fact that the mansion’s collection of diaries was incomplete, the final volume having gone tantalizingly missing.

And now, why was it that he felt that Rogue’s ‘dreams’ had something to do with that solution?  The answer was simple.  Rogue had imprinted Destiny, and she had done so permanently – or at least as far as he could tell.  It was possible that Rogue’s dreams were nothing more than a form of precognition.  Perhaps it was not the diaries, but Rogue herself who was the key.

Rogue had been sedated and wired up to several brainwave-scanning devices.  Hank’s plethora of tests had revealed little that they had not known already.  Rogue’s genome was still as scrambled as ever; her thoughts and neural patterns were still as impenetrable as before.  All Hank had to offer was that these symptoms were now more pronounced.  It was sure evidence that Rogue’s control over the various psyches in her brain was lessening.

“So all the work that went toward helping her control the alien personalities is failing?” Xavier asked the blue-furred mutant doctor.  He was sitting by Rogue’s bedside, staring at her sleeping face intently.  Her sleep seemed too deep, too troubled.  Even now he could not probe into her slumbering mind.

“It seems so,” Hank grimaced. “Although we managed to temporarily counter the disruption brought on by Phantazia’s attack last summer, it seems Rogue’s psyche just can’t hold out.  If we don’t do something for her soon it’s only a matter of time before her consciousness gives in.”

A matter of time, Xavier thought wryly to himself, his fingers steepled in front of his face.  Indeed.

“Are there any other physical symptoms, apart from the dreams?” Xavier asked shortly.

“Only headaches,” Hank answered, looking briefly at his clipboard and frowning. “And Joseph mentioned that she was talking in another person’s voice, just this morning.  He said it was only for a moment, but it certainly does not bode well…”

“Hm.” Xavier rubbed his right temple, inhaling deeply. “Who knows how long it will be before she is completely taken over by another’s personality?  We cannot have a repeat of what happened with Carol Danvers…” He paused, frowning.

“You are thinking that Irene Adler is the identity trying to break through, aren’t you?” Hank interjected in a low voice, not looking at the Professor. “And that we won’t just have one Destiny on our hands but two.”

Xavier remained quiet.  He could not deny that the thought had occurred to him often.  It was an idea he did not relish.  Although he had informed Hank that Rogue had imprinted Destiny, he had not told him the depth of the imprint, nor the trauma that it had caused Rogue.  The anger, guilt and shock that had gone with the imprinting was, to say the least, worrying.  It was also held a great amount of potential danger.

Hank saw the Professor’s look, and knew what it meant. “You cannot be thinking of the girl as a liability, Charles,” he spoke up warningly. “Rogue has imprinted many people, but not on the scale that she did Carol Danvers.  If anyone is trying to break through, it’s her.”

Again Xavier was silent.  Loath as he was to admit it, Rogue was a threat.  And there was no certain way to deal with it.

“Charles, I…” Hank sounded as if he was going to tackle him again, but a beep from a nearby monitor caused him to halt.  Xavier turned, his face questioning. “She’s waking up,” Hank informed him, moving to stand beside the bed.  Rogue was stirring back into wakefulness.

“Readings are normal,” Hank noted, looking back at the monitor again. “No irregular brainwaves.  Looks we didn’t catch ‘the dream’ after all.”

“Joe?”

Rogue’s voice was thin and brittle – but it was her voice.  For a short split second, Xavier was relieved.

“Joseph’s not here, Rogue,” he informed her kindly, as Hank busied himself with stripping her of the wires and sensor pads. “He’s currently training with the others in the Danger Room.  But we shall send for him as soon as he’s ready.”

“It’s okay,” Rogue shook her head slowly. “Ah don’t want t’ worry him.  Ah’ve been botherin’ him enough as it is already.”

There was a troubled note to her voice, but the Professor said nothing.  It had not been lost upon him that Rogue and Joseph were going through a rocky patch, but it was none of his business.  Whatever was going on between them they’d have to sort out themselves.

“Hank has your test results,” he began instead. “Your brainwaves are, as yet, normal.  However, some of your neural patterns are still abnormally unstable.  I’m afraid that at the moment, any further conclusions on your condition are still pending further tests.”

“Ah don’t know whether that’s good or not,” she replied candidly.

“I’m afraid it’s an either-or situation, my dear,” Hank said with a slight smile. “If you want, we could take more tests, but of course it’s entirely up to you…”

“Ah’ll think about it,” Rogue answered quickly. “Thanks, Hank.”

Hank gave her a little bow. “My pleasure, Rogue.” He looked at the Professor, who passed him a marked look. “Well, I have some rather pressing matters to attend to, so if you don’t mind…”

Rogue watched on in bemusement as he slid out of the room in his usual jovial, Beast-like manner.  When Xavier was sure that Hank was out of earshot he turned back to the patient.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not so bad,” she answered with a slight smile. “Y’know, Professor – ah know what you’re thinkin’.”

“You do?” A wry grin twisted his lips.  And here he was, supposed to the world’s most powerful telepath.

“Ah do.  Don’t take a genius or even a mind-reader t’ figure it out.” Her expression was suddenly grave. “You’re thinkin’ ‘Renie’s inside me, an’ you’re afraid she’s gonna take over mah mind.  Ah know you’re thinkin’ it ‘cos ah’m scared of the same thing.”

Her voice suddenly wavered.  Wordlessly Xavier reached out and placed a comforting hand over her own.

“It’s the dreams, isn’t it?” he spoke gently, soothingly. “Tell me about them, Rogue.”

“They ain’t just dreams, Professor,” she protested, tears springing to her eyes. “They feel so real.  Not in a memory kinda way.  They’re just too vivid, y’know.  Ah can remember every single little detail so clearly, like ah’m livin’ it in realtime, every moment of mah life…” She stopped, forcing down the sudden lump in her throat, turning her face away in sudden embarrassment.  Xavier squeezed her hand encouragingly.

“Tell me what happens in them,” he asked, without coercion in his voice.  Rogue was quiet a long time before she answered.

“Ah’m in a dark, black tunnel.  At least, ah think it’s a tunnel, ‘cos ah can’t see a thing.  It’s kinda like…kinda like the darkness itself is weighin’ me down.  Ah can’t go through it, it’s like it’s sticky.  An’ then this pain comes over me, an’ ah can’t even move it hurts so much.  At first ah think it’s me dyin’, but it isn’t, ‘cos ah know what it feels like t’ die.” She paused, swallowing hard.  Her face was suddenly etched in pain. “It’s even worse than dyin’.  Ah can’t even explain it.  It’s like everythin’ – everythin’, the whole world, the universe, even time itself – is just rippin’ apart, atom by atom, from the inside out.  An’ it hurts so much ah faint, an’ when ah wake up, everythin’s real quiet an’ bright.” She turned to the Professor, staring at him through wet eyes. “An’ then ah see these lights.  Ah’m one of them.  There are seven of us, an’ you’re there too.”

“Me?” Xavier voice was mild, so calm and understanding that Rogue was immediately reassured by it. “I am one of the lights?”

“Yes,” she nodded weakly. “An’ right opposite us are these other lights, an’…ah know it sounds weird, but we hate these other lights, an’ we want t’ destroy them.  But we don’t.  One of those seven lights is really big, almost too bright… Ah’m so scared of it, Professor, but for some reason ah go to it, an’…an’ ah touch it.  An’ it’s like killin’ Irene all over again…”

The tears were falling freely now, but Rogue made no sound.  She simply lay there as the drops slid off her cheeks and onto the pillow.

“It’s true, isn’t it.” she began again, her voice hoarse. “The dream, ah mean.  It’s true b’cause in Irene’s Diaries there are Seven of us – you an’ Sage keep talkin’ ‘bout them all the time.  Ah’m dreamin’ about the future aren’t I?  Ah’m dreamin’ about the Seven.”

Xavier remained silent.  There was nothing he could do to comfort her – and even if he could have, his own mind was caught in a terrible dilemma.  Rogue’s own insistence that she was dreaming of the ‘Seven’ somehow proved all his worst fears.  The Paradox, Chronomancer, Retributor, Advocate, Link, Witness, Timebroker; these were all cryptic names written in Destiny’s Diaries, known collectively as the ‘Seven’.  Sage had been able to decipher some them – the others remained a mystery.  But that Rogue was dreaming of them – that was a blessing, and also a terrible curse.  Xavier could only clasp her hand in his own and somehow hope that the strength in him would transfer itself to her.

“Rogue, this is important,” he began, his voice low, urgent. “Tell me who the other ‘lights’ are.”

She turned her head away, unable to look him in the eye, her mouth contorted with fear and pain.

“Ah don’t know,” she whispered at last. “Ah can’t see…Ah don’t want t’ see, professor.”

“You saw me,” he persisted, quietly but firmly. “You knew I was there.  Tell me who else you can see.”

A lone tear streaked across her face.

“There’s you…an’ Bishop…an’ Remy…Remy’s there.” She looked up at him again, eyes pleading. “Tell me ah ain’t going crazy, Professor.  Tell me it ain’t ‘Renie that’s making me go crazy!”

He returned her beseeching gaze, unable to give her the answer that she so wanted.  It was that gaze that seemed to seal Rogue’s fate.

Raising her hands to her eyes, she wept.

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