. II .

She was stumbling through an alleyway at night, on a street she did not know.  It was dark, lit only by the pale flickering lights overhead.  Squinting, she turns her head away, running her hands along damp brick.  A rat scurries out from some trashcan and she freezes as it scampers off into the black recesses of some building.  She feels light, bodiless, disoriented.  Again there is that feeling of displacement, that she shouldn’t be here.  There is also an odd recollection of having dreamed this dream before. 

            “T’ought you weren’t never gonna come, chere.”

            The familiar voice echoes down the alley.  He is standing in the shadows, leaning against a wall, red eyes glowing like burning embers.  She cannot see the rest of him for the darkness.

            “Ah’m here now,” she says.

            “Too late, chere,” he answers softly. “You’re too late already.  I’m already gone.”

            She shakes her head.  For some reason she knows she must cling onto him. “You have t’ come back with me.  You have to come back to the mansion.  You’re one of us.”

She says the words, but the uncertainty ripples through her.  She feels it move, inch by inch, up her spine to lodge itself firmly in the nape of her neck, turning her cold.

            “Too late,” he repeats, and this time his voice is strange and melodious, almost insidiously so. “You can’t bring me back.  I’m one of them now.”

            He walks out, and for the first time she realizes that the eyes, the voice – they were all a deception.  The face that greets her is pale and deathly; the eyes that she had thought soft and compassionate are now burning with a stark, malevolent hatred.  The cold lips smile, baring a row of yellowed, bloody fangs.  It is the form of Sinister that steps into the cool light, that reaches out for her with the arms of a lover.  She struggles, but his grip his like steel as he grasps her against him.

            “He is mine now,” he whispers, and she feels his stinking breath on her ear. “And soon, my dear, so too will you.”

*

            “Remy!”

            Rogue shrieked herself out of sleep, only to find herself back in the medical lab, having launched herself straight into a strange pair of arms.  She fought against them, thinking that it was still the repugnant form of Sinister that held her, struggling desperately against the man she so hated, reaching out to claw his face.

            “Rouge!  Rogue, it’s me, Joseph!  You’re awake, you’re awake!”

            Somehow the dear, familiar voice of Joseph penetrated the turmoil in her brain.  Breaking down she sobbed loudly, and again she felt his arms enfold her gently, pressing her against his chest.  The action seemed to soothe her, and after a moment her sobs lessened; but she did not return the embrace.

            “Remy,” she spoke up, her tone distressed, pleading. “Where is he?  He has to come back.  We can’t leave him alone!  Joseph, where is he?”

            “He’s gone, Rogue,” he answered quietly, rubbing her hair. “He left months ago.  Don’t you remember?  We don’t know where he is.  He doesn’t want to come back.”

            “No!” She drew away from him, shaking her head wildly. “You don’t understand!  He’s in danger!  He has to come back!  He’s one of them!  One of the…”

            She stopped suddenly, seeing the look on his face.  Joseph knew what she was going to say. One of the lights.  He could not keep the hardness from creeping into his expression.  He knew that she had seen it.  He knew because she suddenly looked away, biting her lip, drawing her arms about her like a forlorn, misunderstood little child.          There was a long silence.  There was no point in the two of them covering the same ground over and over.  It was getting them nowhere.  He could try to reassure her until he was blue in the face.  She would only refute him, for reasons he could not understand other than that he supposed she was being stubborn. 

Pursing up his lips, Joseph stood and turned, staring at the white walls dismally.  It was all his fault.  It was his fault because he had been a member of the Savants, and he could have had the power to stop Phantazia from disrupting Rogue’s mutant abilities.  After all, it was partly because of Rogue that he had left the Savants at all, and in turn joined the X-Men.  He had wanted to help her come to terms with her loss, because he cared for her.  That was why he was feeling so guilty.  He felt he had let her down.

“Ah’m sorry, Joe,” she said at least from behind him. “Ah didn’t mean it.  Ah was just dreamin’ again, an’ it all seemed so real…  Ah shouldn’t have mentioned Remy… Ah…”

“Hank said your symptoms were probably a throwback from what happened last summer,” he interrupted softly.  He could not bear to hear those same old excuses. “He said the test results were inconclusive.”

“The tests don’t mean nothin’, Joe,” she replied miserably. “B’cause mah head’s so screwed no one really knows what’s goin’ on in there.  Not even Sage can tell.”

            He turned. “So what’s next?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.

            “Ah don’t know.  The Professor says he wants t’ do more psychic therapy.  Ah guess ah’ll have to accept.  There’s nothin’ more ah can do.”

            Her tone was forced.  There something she wasn’t telling him; Joseph could feel it.  He walked over to sit down beside her again.  Even as he did so she would not look at him.  Wordlessly he poured her some juice that had been standing on her bedside table and handed it to her.

            “Here,” he said gently. “Drink this.  You’ve had a rough couple of days, Rogue.  It’s best not to think about it for now.  I’m sure the Professor will think of something.  He’s helped you before.  There’s no need to worry, darling.”

            She did not reply.  She was looking at the cup of juice, her gaze intense.  Something about that look sent shivers up Joseph’s spine, and he did not know why.

            “Rogue, is there something wrong?” he asked.

            “Orange,” she said

            “What?”

            “Orange,” she echoed, her tone one of puzzlement. “Why did you pour me orange juice?  I hate that flavour.”

            “Of course you don’t,” he replied, forcing lightness. “You drink it all the…”

            “I don’t!” She turned and snapped at him, her face suddenly twisted in rage.  Joseph was amazed to see that the once green eyes were now a pale, frosty blue.  For a split second she held his gaze; then she suddenly turned her head away, a hand going to her forehead.

            “No…No, you’re right,” she muttered slowly, as though to speak pained her. “Ah do…Ah don’t even know what came over me…”

            “Rogue…” He went to put an arm about her shoulder but she shrugged him off.

            “Ah am goin’ crazy, aren’t ah?” She laughed but her voice was suddenly cold. “Ah can feel it.  Why can’t anyone help me?”

            “Why won’t you let me?” he asked her quietly.  Too often they had done this now.  Too often he had spoken to her like this, with her back to him, with her refusing to let him touch her.  Why wouldn’t she open up to him?  What was she so afraid of that she wouldn’t even let him touch her?

            “Because you can’t, Joe,” she answered regretfully. “An’ ah’m just afraid that ah ain’t the woman you once thought ah was.  Ah don’t know how ah should feel ‘bout you anymore.”

            He sucked in a breath.

            “What do you mean?” he half-whispered.

            “You’re one of them,” she answered, her voice almost dreamy. “Once of those other lights.  The ones ah’m supposed to hate.” She sighed shakily. “Ah don’t know what it means, Joe.  Ah don’t hate you.  But it scares me.  It makes me feel…like ah don’t know who you are.  Like ah don’t know who we are.”

            “What are you saying, Rogue?” he asked, almost indignant. “That you believe in what those dreams tell you?  That you’re going to let them dictate our future?”

            “Maybe.”

            Her voice was uncertain.  But she still would not face him.  Did she fear him that much?  Every moment she was slipping away from him, and Joseph could do nothing about it.  He knew it was inevitable.  Already the words were forming on his lips.  He could hardly remember the last time they had touched, or that she had returned his embrace out of true warmth.  There was so much pain in her, but he could not help her.  She would not let him.  There was so much he had left behind for her sake.  And if she would not accept his sacrifice, how could he carry on laying himself before her without return?

            “Tell me, Rogue,” he spoke at last. “Tell me what it is you’re not telling me.  Why do you believe these dreams?  Why are they so important to you?”

            “Ah can’t tell you,” she murmured, her tone helpless. “Ah just can’t, Joe.”

            “Don’t you trust me?”

            “It ain’t that.”

            “Is it…Does it have something to do with Gambit?”

            “No!” Her voice was vehement.

            “Do you still care for him, Rogue?”

            “Of course ah do!  How can ah not – he was mah friend!  But it doesn’t matter, Joe.  He ain’t got nothin’ t’ do with this.”

            “You’ve been dreaming about him.”

            She shook her head, suddenly agitated.

            “You don’t understand, Joe!  You can’t!”

            “I can’t if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

            She said nothing, clutching onto her forehead, blocking him out.  It was useless.  He knew what he had to say.  The words would pain him, but in the end, there was nothing more to be said.  He could give her nothing more.

            “Rogue.  I’ve tried all I can for you, loved you with all that I can.  Through all this, through all the pain you’ve been through I’ve tried to help see you through it.  But I can’t do this any longer, not if you’re not willing to accept what I have to give you.” He paused, drawing in a breath before beginning again. “You’re going to have to make a decision, Rogue.  You’re going to have to decide whether you’re going to follow what those dreams say, or what your heart says.  I don’t want to lose you, Rogue.  But if you can’t give me your trust how can I give you my love?”

            For the first time she turned to him, and her eyes were moist. “Ah do trust you, Joe.  But ah can’t trust myself, not enough to tell you what you want me to.  If ah told you, you’d hate me.  An’ even worse, ah’d hate myself.”

            “And that is what I wish I could help you with, if only you’d let me.” He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek, and this time she allowed him to touch her. “Remember what I said, after Gambit left?  That if you ever changed your mind about us, I would abide by your decision.” He smiled regretfully. “That hasn’t changed, Rogue.  I love you enough to let you go.”

            She leant her face into the softness of his touch, looking suddenly defeated.   Now words both failed them.  There was no more cause to fight.  There was nothing left to fight for.

            Smiling sadly he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

            “I should leave you to get some rest,” he said, and there was a lightness in his voice, but also a regret. “Hank said I shouldn’t disturb you while he’s still taking the tests.  I guess I should apologize for that as well.” He stood up. “If you need me, Rogue, for anything at all…Just ask for me, all right?  You know I’ll be there.”

            She nodded, swallowing her tears back.  If there was one moment he wished to hold her it was that one.  Instead, despite all he still felt for her, he got up and made for the door.

            “Joe?”

            He turned. “Yes?”

            “Will you stay with me, just for a little while?” She coloured, looking so defenseless, so lost. “Ah’m afraid to go to sleep.  Please just sit with me till ah go off.”

            He smiled.

            “Of course, Rogue.  I’ll stay with you.  I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

*

            Hank McCoy was in a foul mood. 

For the third night running he had been unable to sleep, staying up into the early hours trying to make head or tail of Rogue’s test results.  It was always a bad idea for him to look at a computer screen before going to bed.  But once he had a challenge, he was the kind of person that just couldn’t back down from facing it square on.  And Rogue’s neural scans were certainly proving to be a challenge.

The previous evening, during Joseph’s visit, she had had a dream.  And this time Hank had been able to catch it.  He’d spent most of the night deliberating over what it all meant, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure it out.  In the end he’d slammed his laptop shut and gone off to bed.  But here he was at six in the morning, trudging back to the lab, coffee in hand.  The test results had been bothering him far too much to be ignored.  And his scientist’s mind was loath to admit that he also had a very bad feeling about the whole affair.

Yawning, he unlocked the door to the medical lab and looked inside.  The scanning devices were still on; but there was something wrong with them.  The monitors were showing no readings at all.  Hank frowned, setting down his coffee on a nearby desk and examining the equipment.  He’d made sure that everything was working fine when he’d checked on the Rogue the night before.  She had been hooked up to the machines fine then.  Something had to be going on in the brain of hers.  Unless…

Hank swore viciously to himself.  His fatigue abruptly forgotten, he rushed into the adjoining infirmary, throwing the door wide open.  The sight that met him made his blood run cold.

“Oh my stars and garters…” he mumbled under his breath.

All that lay on the crumpled bed were a jumbled array of pads and wires.

Rouge had gone.

*

Half an hour later, and Professor Xavier was still sitting in the infirmary, Storm hovering silently by his side.  Somehow Sage had snuck in, although Hank wasn’t sure how she’d known what had happened.  Joseph was in the doorway, looking nervous.  The bed lay in the middle of the room, empty, a stark testament to the worst of their fears.

“Sorry, Chuck,” Logan said as he and Hank returned from their search of the mansion. “She ain’t here.  And from the scent of this place, she left some time ago.  Two, maybe three hours ago, perhaps even more.”

“I should’ve stayed all night,” Joseph muttered, more to himself than anyone else.  Both his face and in his voice were contorted with guilt. “I shouldn’t have left her.”

“Don’t blame yourself, my friend,” Hank said comfortingly, placing a hand on the white-haired man’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.  What’s done is done.  Rogue knows how to take care of herself.  Wherever she is, she’ll be fine.”

“Hank, she hasn’t been herself recently, we both know that,” Joseph protested. “She could be vulnerable and scared for all we know.” He turned away, gritting his teeth. “And yesterday I ended it with her.  How could I have been so stupid?  I should have been more understanding. I should have tried harder for her.”

“You tried your hardest, Joseph,” Storm spoke up softly. “All of us know that.  You did more for her than any of us could.  But all things must pass.  It is the way of the world.  Hank is right – do not blame yourself for following your heart.”

Logan grunted, crossing his arms. “Pretty speeches aside, ‘Ro, how’re we gonna find the girl?  She ain’t left a trace behind for us to follow, and none of our resident telepaths can keep track of her.  So now what?”

“Logan,” Sage suddenly asked.  She had been looking out of the window, her blue eyes lost in thought; but now she turned to them, her expression grave. “Is there anything she took with her from the mansion?  Anything at all?”

“Hmph.  That’s what I was gonna tell you.  There’s a gun missin’, one of Carol’s old pieces.  A point 22 Walther.  God knows why she’s taken the thing, but it don’t smell good, I can tell you that.”

Xavier remained silent for a moment.  There was only one course of action he could take.

“Hank,” he finally spoke decidedly. “Help me set up Cerebro.  Now.”

Hank’s expression was surprised.

“But Professor, Rogue’s mutant signature has been…”

“I know,” Xavier cut him off grimly, beginning to move out of the room. “But it isn’t Rogue we’re going to be searching for.  It’s Destiny.”

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