Title: Business of helping people
Author: Lateo
Summery: The best cook they ever had
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Comment: I am in such a bad mood and wrote this. English is not my
first language bla bla bla


He was the best cook they ever had, not because he served French
cousin, he mostly made all American food, but he took a care in his
work and him being a mutant was an added bonus. The kids needed to
see that a mutant wasn't just limited to becoming some sort of
superhero.


He had answered the add and seemed charming, all his credentials were
in order and when he revealed he was a mutant he was hired on spot.

He joked with the older kids and made candy for the younger ones.

He was very muscular and confessed he had studied martial arts. The
girls, young and old noticed when he walked by.

The telepaths had trouble reading him and he finally told of his time
in the labs. They'd tested his healing power when he was there and
juggled with his memory.

It had been very painful for him emotionally, he told Jean as she
hugged him.

Scott wasn't to sure about the guy but everyone else really liked him
and who was he to disagree. After all Scott wasn't a telepath.

He helped Ro with her garden work and saved the seeds from the fruit
he served for dinner for her. That was so nice of him.

The professor offered to help him with his memory and he said yes.
They were in the office for hours.

Blood.

How were they supposed to know?

They were in the business of helping people.

How were they supposed to know he was in the business of killing them.

Magneto was very pleased when Wolverine returned home.

Look for story information in part 1.


Chapter 12

It was already late when Jean went to talk Charles into letting
Hannibal Lecter stay, so he could assist her in manufacturing Rogue's
new serum.
   They had agreed on that Jean would talk to Charles alone.
   - He doesn't like me, the doctor said. I believe you will have
better luck on your own. My presence will probably just make him feel
upset and awkward. But bring him my words.
   Jean realized that doctor Lecter was probably right, so she did not
object, but agreed on consulting Charles alone. She knew him well and
knew how to talk to him.
   But of course it was impossible deceiving him. That was something
that everyone at the mansion had learned. But Charles was just and
understanding, and even though he didn't personally like doctor
Lecter, he would not deny Rogue a chance of a decent life.
   Charles was still working in his office. The lights were on in
there. She could see that underneath the door when she approached it.
   She knocked on the door.
   - Yes, Jean? Charles replied from the inside.
   She opened the door and entered. Of course he knew already before
she knocked who was outside. Maybe he even knew what she was going to
say?
   He sat behind his huge desk with a lot of papers spread before him.
He looked up when she came in. He smiled faintly.
   - Good evening, Jeannie. Are you coming from the lab?
   - Yes. What are you doing up so late?
   - I am correcting the students' latest math tests, Charles replied.
I know it is late, but I promised them that they would get them back
tomorrow.
   Jean didn't know that he shuddered at going to the bedroom, since
Erik most likely would be there. But Jean knew nothing about the
argument, nor would she ever know.
   - I need to talk to you about something, said Jean.
   - Yes? Charles asked, taking off his reading glasses.
   - I have been down in the med-lab all day, working on Rogue's
serum.
   - Yes, you work hard. Maybe you should slow down a bit? You have no
deadline, after all.
   - That was not what I wanted to discuss, Jean said. Doctor Lecter
came down to me this afternoon.
   - Oh, did he now? What was he doing down there?
   Jean could instantly grasp a watchful and suspicious tone in
Charles' voice. Obviously he was unfavourably disposed toward doctor
Lecter.
   - I don't know. But I do happen to know that he saved me many
months of work. He figured out what was wrong with Rogue's medicine.
   - You gave him your notes?
   - He asked to have a look at them, yes. And he located the error,
in only a couple of hours. Can you believe it? It's been there, the
whole time, right under my nose. I just didn't see it.
   - Jean? Charles said seriously.
   - Yes, Charles?
   - Does anyone else know about this?
   - Just doctor Lecter, you and I.
   - Not Rogue?
   - No, not at all.
   - Good. We mustn't wake any false hope. Are definitely positive he
is right?
   Jean nodded. - Definitely. There is no doubt.
   - Then what are you going to do now? Charles asked seriously.
   - I was about to ask you if Lecter could stay here for a little
longer so he might help me producing the drug.
   - Has he offered his help?
   - Yes.
   Charles Xavier sighed. He was in a difficult situation. *If* Jean
was right, Rogue might get a chance of a normal life again. He could
not take that away from her. He just *couldn't*. She deserved it, and
she would hate him forever if she found out that he had denied her
the chance only because of doctor Lecter's background.
   But Lecter *was* a criminal, and Charles didn't trust him.
   - Charles? Jean asked when she wasn't receiving any reply.
   - What does he want in return?
   - Nothing. He says he is doing it for Rogue.
   - I see. Well, I suppose it is alright if he stays as your
assistant. But keep an eye on him, Jean. I don't trust him.
   Charles didn't trust Hannibal Lecter, but so far there was no
reason not to let him stay and assist Jean, and therefore help Rogue,
so Charles tried to be objective and ignored the chills that Lecter's
presence gave him.
   - Oh, thank you, Charles! Jean called and hurried to give him a
kiss on the middle of his bald head.
   Charles gave her a weary smile, and patted her shoulder.
   - I am doing it for Rogue, he reminded her. Go to bed now, my dear.
You must be very tired.
   - I will. But what about you?
   - I will finish this. Then I guess I have to... go to bed.
   Charles sighed when he thought of the ordeal waiting in the
bedroom.

DISCLAIMERS AND SUCH ARE IN THE FIRST CHAPTER.
There is lesbian sex in this chapter as well as m/f.
You were warned!   -Linda J.


CHAPTER 16
Sherry Brown pulled into her driveway around 11:00 Halloween night
and the first thing she noticed when she got to her porch was
someone had knocked over her 30lbs cement bowl shaped pot. The mums
she had so lovely planted inside the pot were now scattered over her
yard along with large clumps of potting soil.
"I hope someone gave you a poison apple tonight." Sherry cursed the
trick or treating vandals underneath her breath. She decided to
leave the mess in her yard until morning when she could at least see
what the hell she was doing.
She opened her door and went inside. Her cat which she named
Grissibella, greeted her master with much meowing and purring as she
rubbed her fluffy grey coated body sensually over Sherry's legs
while her master reached down to take her high heels off of her
exhausted feet.
"Hi Gris." Sherry said in a tired worn voice. "Miss me today?"
Both master and pet made their way to the bathroom of Sherry's
modest four-plex apartment. Out of habit, Sherry checked
Grissibella's food dish and was thankful that it still had enough
food for her pet to survive until morning. Sherry then began to run
a bath and undress. When she finally settled into the warm soothing
water, it felt as if she had died and gone to heaven.
The past few days had been especially hectic now that the Mutant
Registration Act was about to be voted on. She and the fake Senator
Kelly worked nearly every waking hour to reverse the damage the real
Senator had caused. Luckily both women were familiar with all the
little tricks and gimmicks politicians use to kill a bill and even
though it would be close, they were confident their plans would
succeed.
Ironically, as Sherry closed her eyes and leaned back to enjoy her
bath, the thought occurred to her, `I hope I'm not in over my head.'
She was referring of course to the situation with her current
assignment. Sherry had kept the shape-shifter's secret so well that
even her own superiors were unaware they were guarding a mutant.
The plan was simple. As soon as the bill dies, Senator Kelly's
helicopter veers off course and crashes into the Atlantic Ocean. No
more Senator Kelly to worry about and no more of this double agent
horse shit.
Sherry found herself looking forwarded to the end of this ordeal
with mixed emotions. On one hand it was just plain stupid to mess
with S.H.I.E.L.D. no matter how good your intentions were,
especially for someone who had only been in service for less than a
year.
And although it was beginning to look like she and Mystique were
going to pull this off there was always that chance that something
would go wrong. Sherry knew that getting "life" in a federal
penitentiary would be a light sentence compared to what could happen
to her. Mutant haters were very unforgiving to those who defended
mutants. Not to mention what would happen to Mystique if she were
ever caught. `Well it's too late to change my mind now.' She thought
as she felt herself drifting to sleep.
Suddenly Sherry heard the doorbell ring. "You've got to be freaking
kidding!" She said aloud as she got out of the now cool bathwater
and put on her black satin robe which she hung on a hook on the back
of the bathroom door.
Again the bell rang.  "Alright, alright," She yelled. "I'm coming."
Contrary to her cautious nature, Sherry opened the door not knowing
who to expect. She was thoroughly surprised to see a very sexy
looking man who stood about 5'11" with dark, nicely trimmed short
hair, and lovely olive skin.
In his hands were a bouquet of red roses and a bottle of champagne;
and to top it off he spoke with a French accent.
"Good evening my sweet Sherry. Won't you let me in?" His smile could
melt butter.
Sherry stood in the doorway stunned and dripping wet from not having
time to towel dry herself. A normally modest and prudent lady,
Sherry blushed as she felt her nipples harden in the night air which
was turning colder by the minute. She was about to close the door on
the stranger when she saw his eyes change to a familiar yellow. She
felt her heart flutter once she realized who it was. "Yes, of course
you may come in." She smiled and stepped aside to let her guest in.
Mystique walked in and took her true naked form the moment Sherry
closed the door. She gave her host a coy smile as she slowly and
sexily slinked away from her.
Sherry followed behind. "Um…Ray," she asked in a soft but confused
voice. "Why are you here?"
Mystique turned around and leaned up against Sherry's bedroom
doorway. Mystique softly glowed with a blue halo as the light from
the lamp on the bed stand shined on her bare skin. She reached out
for Sherry's satin robe's belt loops and pulled her close. Sherry
resisted for only a moment but quickly gave in to her own lustful
desire.
"I've…I mean…I haven't…" Sherry stuttered. "What I mean to say Raven
is…"
Mystique however, quickly interrupted her. "You mean…" She spoke as
if she was instructing Sherry what to say. "This is your first time."
  "As a matter of fact it is." Sherry agreed trying to sound calm.
"Mmmm…" Mystique nodded her head understandingly. She looked down on
Sherry's cleavage lustfully and started stroking the exposed part of
Sherry's chest. "And your point would be…"
Sherry didn't have an answer for her. She only felt heart beating
faster and her breathing become more rapid. She licked her lips with
anticipation as they began to swell. Mystique watched Sherry's face
as she allowed her finger to reach even lower toward Sherry's supple
breast. She then began pulling the robe away from Sherry's body
exposing her hard pink nipples.
"You see me this way all the time." She seductively cooed. "Now it's
time for me to look upon you."
Sherry said nothing as she willing stood still while Mystique began
to untie the belt with one hand and open the robe with the other.
The robe fell to the floor.

*******SLASH SCENE*********
There was no more than a few short inches between the two women;
both naked and free in front of each other. Sherry felt that warm
wet feeling between her legs as she imagined what would be happening
next.
Mystique took the dominant role and began to gently pinch Sherry's
nipple with her fingers while she reached behind her to caress her
beautiful ass with the other hand.
Sherry moved in closer and before she even realized what she was
doing she began to kissing the blue mutant on the mouth. Both women
opened their mouths and let their tongues play with each other.
Sherry put her arm around Mystique and moved upwards gently
messaging Mystique's middle and upper back. Sherry then reached her
other hand to Mystique's breast and began to fondle and squeeze it
firmly.
Mystique then took the next step and moved her hand away from
Sherry's backside and came over to the front, stroking her soft
bush. The slit between Sherry's legs was sopping wet and Mystique
easily slipped her middle finger inside and began to softly rub her
sensitive clit.
"Mmmmm" Sherry moaned as her body reacted to Mystique's experienced
touch. Mystique then stopped everything; she let go of her and
pushed her away. She stood there for a moment looking coldly at the
venerable Sherry. She wanted to prove that she was in absolute
control; she had the absolute power. "Are you ready for the next
level?" She asked in a dead serious voice.
Sherry obediently nodded her head.
"Good." Mystique then led her to the bed and together they lay down.
Mystique rolled over onto Sherry and began kissing her neck, biting
and nibbling her way toward her navel.
Instinctively, Sherry spread her thighs as Mystique inched her way
towards Sherry's precious legs. Mystique lavished soft wet kisses
onto Sherry's milky white inner thighs as she reached around her
hips and grabbed the inner parts of Sherry's legs, pulling her
vaginal lips apart to make the clit easily available. Mystique
lowered her head and began licking Sherry's soft pink lump with
expert precision. She then inserted her middle finger into Sherry's
womanhood.
Sherry rolled her eyes back and closed them as she felt wave after
wave of sweet hot pleasure coarse through her body every time
Mystique plunged her finger and wagged her tongue.
Sherry trembled as she verged toward her climax.
But before too soon, Mystique stopped licking and sat over to one
side watching her lover's reaction as she increased her finger's
repetitions.
Sherry raised her hips upwards adding to her own pleasure. "Oh Ray
won't you fuck me harder?" She cried in passion. Mystique just
smiled. "Look at you my dear." she nearly scolded. "You prance
around Washington with your skirts cut to your knees, your blouse
buttoned to your neck and in reality…you are just another slut."
Sherry opened her eyes looking into Mystique's. "I…I love you Raven."
*meow*
Sherry heard Grissibella from her sleep. She woke up back in her now
very cool bath. It had all been nothing but an erotic dream; except
for the undeniable yearning she still had burning between her legs.
Sherry got out of the tub; her feet were now prune like from sitting
in water for more than an hour. She dried herself off and put on her
modest full length beige gown. She soon went to bed hoping that she
would have the same dream again.

The school's party was winding down as most of the students had left
for their rooms and were getting ready for bed. Both Dr. McCoy and
the Professor had left some time ago. Though it was not intended for
him to hear, Sabretooth was able to pick up the call was something
about an emergency call form Col Fury, the head honcho of
S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Who's cleaning up this mess?" Sabretooth foolish wondered
aloud. "The job goes to the first person who asks, `who's cleaning
up this mess?'" Mercy said as she handed him a small trash bag. He
grunted at her and grabbed the bag out of her hand but quietly
started going around tiding up. The fact was he didn't mind doing a
little cleaning if it kept him out of his room for a bit longer.
"Hey, Morph…" The felinoid walked over to the sound system and spoke
up to get the DJs attention but with no luck. Finally he
roared, "Morph!"
Immediately Marshall pulled the earphones away from his ears and
looked innocently at Sabretooth.
"Got a request?" He eagerly asked.
"Yeah, turn it down a couple of notches will ya? Can't you see the
crowd is thinning out?"
"Oh, well how about this." Marshall offered as he quickly turned the
sound down a bit, and changed the music to something a little softer
and more romantic. Sabretooth nodded his head and went back to
cleaning detail.
The music was still a little too `alternative' for his taste, but at
least it wasn't blaring in his ears anymore. A few of the couples
took to the dance floor and began to slow dance; including Jean and
Scott who took advantage of the opportunity to snuggle. Even Storm
and Forge were cuddling up in a corner and Sabretooth sulked a bit
feeling all alone but then he forced him self to get over it and
move on.
"Hey tiger," Mercy came from behind. "I'll help you with the
cleaning if you wouldn't mind helping me collect the decorations and
put them away."
He turned around to look at her. He then realized that he still
didn't know what she was supposed to be. He reached out and flicked
one of her red antennas with his long index claw making it spring
wildly back and forth.
"Hey!" She quickly grabbed the antenna to hold it still. "Why are
you always messing with my fluffy balls?"
Sabretooth chuckled.
"You know what I meant!" She scorned.
Still smiling, Sabretooth gazed at her for a moment. "So what the
hell are you?" He finally asked.
"A butterfly." Mercy answered with a proud smile. "Do you like it?"
He nodded his head somewhat as he continued to study her different
new look. Then suddenly he had a crazy idea and reached out for her
again, taking her by her shoulders. He was a much rougher than she
was used to but she didn't think he was out to hurt her. He pulled
her closer.
"Let's dance."
Mercy felt her cheeks blush as she shyly smiled. "OK." She meekly
put her hands around his elbows at first, but then quickly moved
them to around his waist. They started to gently sway their bodies
to and fro, moving slowly in a tight circle as the music continued.
At first, Mercy kept her eyes on his the whole time and they didn't
say a word. It bothered her a bit that his face never changed its
hard unreadable expression.
As the dance continued she couldn't decide whether she was angry or
grateful that he was too tall for her to give a spontaneous kiss on
his mouth. Without warning he then pulled her in even closer. Her
arms instinctively reached around him to hold him close, and she let
her head fall on his large broad chest. Mercy fought back the urge
to giggle once she was certain she could hear him purring. The
situation was so awkward for her; she felt as if she was in heaven
but at the same time she was dieing inside. She felt so much love
for him that she feared it. Up until now, Mercy was willing to
settle for a friendship and nothing else than to risk loosing even
that in case he didn't feel the same.
Mercy chose to put all that out of her mind as she tried to just
enjoy this moment. She listened carefully to the Caribbean melody of
the song, appreciating Morph for picking this of all love songs as
she listened its' chorus.
               "You're really lovely,
                Underneath it all...
                Do you want to love me,
                Underneath it all...
               I'm really lovely,
               Underneath it all..."
Even when the song was over, the two kept on moving in their own
little circle enjoying the feel of each other's closeness. However
almost immediately, they were interrupted by a small and very tired
voice. "Mr. Creed, I'm ready to go now."
The two adults stopped and looked down to see a very tired and warn
out Claire who had already fallen asleep in a chair once tonight.
She rubbed her tired eyes with one hand and clung to her trophy for
the best costume in her age category with the other.
Sabretooth looked down in Mercy's soft round and lovely face as she
gave him a sad sweet smile.
At that moment, reaching down and pressing his lips to hers seemed
more important to him than taking his next breath while the voice in
his head hysterically screamed at him.
`She don't want you! She thinks you're stupid! You know you'll only
hurt her! You're just gonna make a fool out of yourself!' He
swallowed hard and hesitated for a moment too long.
For all she knew, this uncomfortable look on his face was caused
from not knowing how to tell her it was time to let him go. So Mercy
patted him politely on his chest. "Thanks for the dance Tiger."
"Sure Fluff; any time." He quickly let go of her scowling harshly.
The sharp stabbing pain of once more being rejected, pieced through
his not-so-hard heart as he mistook her "thanks" for a polite "no
thanks".
"Com'on Claire." He snapped and with that he went over to speak with
Jean who was now helping clean up as well. "Say Doc, would you mind
taking Claire upstairs?"
Jean was a little surprised to have Sabretooth just come up and
speak freely to her. She still had little use for him and the harder
he tried to show her he wasn't such a bad guy, the less she
trusted   him.
"Claire, let's go up stairs." Jean reached her hand out to the
child. But before Claire would take the doctor's hand however, she
needed a proper `good night' from her Sabretooth. Too tired to raise
her free arm for him to pick her up, she settled for hugging his
leg. Though this act was nearly identical to the way she had grabbed
his leg earlier in the evening, it was much easier for him to deal
with. He sofly rubbed her head.
"Good night, squirt." He said in a sad soft voice.
"Good night, Mr. Creed." Claire yawned as she took Dr. Grey's
hand. `Well at least somebody loves me.'
He sighed and stuffed his feelings deep inside as he returned to
throwing paper cups and plates away, growling all the while.
Mercy watched him from where he had left her standing alone, having
no idea he was thinking of kissing her.
`God, he's so damn moody!' She grossed to herself and went about
cleaning up as well.
When the party came to an official end and all the students had gone
back to their dorm rooms, the rest of the adults pitched in and
started taking down the decorations and put them away as well. When
they were almost finished however, Mercy pulled Scott over to the
side. "Scott, I know this is out of the ordinary but would it be
alright if Sabretooth came with me to the art room and put these
boxed decorations away?"
Scott gave her an unpleasant look. Though Sabretooth had been given
a great deal of freedom lately, that didn't mean he was completely
trustworthy.
Mercy went on to explain. "I really want to talk to him Scott,
alone. It's really important."
Scott still didn't look sold on the idea.
Mercy defended her request. "Sabretooth has been nothing but a model
prisoner the whole time he's been here. He gets to roam around
during the day freely enough, what could he do at night that he
can't do during the day?"
Scott explained. "Mercy, I know- hell everybody knows you have
feelings for `Tooth. We just don't want to see you get hurt. And
trust me, when we mean hurt, we really mean HURT!" Then he
sighed. "And yes he could do worse at night because if we are
sleeping, our response time to an emergency is slower."
Mercy wasn't ready to give up the argument. "But that's my decision
to make. Scott, you know sooner or later you're going to have to
trust him. Do you really want to wait until there's no choice?"
"Alright Mercy, you're old enough to understand the danger you're
getting yourself into." Scott sighed and gave up the fight.
`But we know age has nothing to do with maturity.' That thought,
Scott kept to him self.
Mercy kindly smiled and turned away from him. "Tiger," She called
out to him as if she had forgotten everything that had happened
between them on the dance floor. "You get to carry all these boxes
up stairs for me."
Sabretooth had finally sat down and was drinking a glass of water
when he heard Mercy call his name. His mood had once more swung back
to something more pleasant.
"Lucky me." He said light-heartedly as he stood up and stretched. He
held out his arms and Mercy began piling the boxes into them. Soon
there was a stack of boxes that reached up to his nose.
"Think you can get that all?" Scott came over hoping that Sabretooth
would say no.
"Yeah, red-eye." Sabretooth assured him. "I got it."
Scott almost changed his mind at the last minute. He still wasn't
comfortable with trusting this maniac to return to his room on his
on accord. For Scott, giving the keys to the Porsche to Bobby would
be a piece of cake compared to this.
"Um…'Tooth."
Sabretooth studied the younger man's face curiously. He knew Scott
had something heavy on his mind.
"When you're done helping Mercy, just go to your room. I'll be by
later to check on you."
Sabretooth gave no reaction to this latest freedom he was offered.
He merely grunted and began to walk out the door.
"He's all yours Mercy." Scott surrendered. "I just hope you're still
alive in the morning."
Mercy took his remark as sarcasm and rolled her eyes. Scott wished
she hadn't.
Sabretooth dashed up the stairs and made it to the art room well
before Mercy. He found the closet locked and set the boxes down.
He took one last look in the mirror before taking his costume off.
He admitted he enjoyed himself in spite of all the ups and downs he
had in the evening. But he wasn't sure he would ever want to go to
another one of these parties again.
`Mags better get off his dead ass and make his move pretty soon or
I'll go nuts.' He thought as he stripped down to his boxers. Funny
thing was when he wore his "skins" as he liked calling his leather
clothes, he never bothered wearing underwear, but now that he was
wearing normal clothes he wore them all the time.
Just then Mercy walked in on him.
"Oh," She paused as she stood in the doorway trying very hard not to
look at his crotch. "I can wait outside if you like." She offered
with blushed cheeks.
"No, Fluff." His voice was soft and tender. "I got nothing to hide
from you."
She smiled a bit and walked inside closing the door behind her. She
went over and unlocked the closet. He went ahead in his boxers and
began putting the boxes on the selves.
Mercy waited until his back was turned before she found the courage
to say what she felt she needed to say to him.
"Um…Sabre-tooth." She wasn't used to calling him by his code name in
his presence. "That stuff you were telling the professor at the
party…I…I*sigh* I just wanted to let you know that I really do
mean, `thank you' and…" She took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. "And `I'm sorry' too."
Sabretooth tuned around and stared at her for a moment. He naturally
mistrusted anyone who tried so hard to make them selves sound so
sincere.
"What are you sorry for?" He cautiously asked.
Mercy looked away. "You're right about me, Tiger. I am just a
marshmallow. I was never mistreated for being a mutant and I never
even tried to hide the fact that I was one. I just never ran into
the wrong people I guess. *sigh* I forget how bad most of us have
had it. Even most of these kids here have been through worse than
me."
Suddenly her voice became stronger as she got the courage to look at
him and began to speak with conviction.
"And for you to suffer so much at the hands of those who owe you
their lives, well I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry you
had to go through all that."
He moved closer to her until he was nearly on top of her. He said
nothing until he was certain there was no fear in her scent. Fear
was a sure sign of a lie.
When he was satisfied she was telling him what she really felt, he
reached his hand out and caressed her smooth cheek.
"Your welcome." He spoke solemnly to her.
Mercy smiled warmly at him and put her hand on his and pressed it
closer to her cheek. For only a moment or so the two remained still
as they both waited for the other to break away first. Mercy then
gently kissed his palm and rested her cheek there.
Then suddenly her feminine scent caught him off guard and instantly
the blood began to rush into Sabretooth's long shaft as his hunger
for sex quickly grew out of control.
Mercy tried to remain calm even though she could hear his low but
threatening growl and he now had both of his hands on each side her
face and neck rubbing them sensually.
`Oh God, Scott was right.' Mercy began to fear. `What if he tries to
strangle me?'
Her breathing too became more rapid just like his, but for much
different reasons. She wasn't about to scream however. She would
rather die by Sabretooth's hands than have to face Scott and admit
to him that he was right and she had been wrong.
Slowly Sabre moved one hand down her neck line, down her shoulder
and grabbed her arm. He pulled her arm up toward him so he could
then take her by the hand. Once Mercy's hand was in his, he pressed
it hard against his cock.
"You want this?" Even then tone of his voice was crude and vulgar.
Mercy thought of her reply. She quickly put her other hand on his
chest over his heart.
"I want this…"She paused, then grinned sheepishly. "…too."
Sabretooth looked surprised for a moment waiting to see the look in
her eyes. He could sense her fright but he could see she was
determined not to flee.
Slowly he devilishly grinned and with his claws, he began to `help'
Mercy out of her costume and through the shreds in a pile on the
floor.
Mercy reached over and stroked his face. She was surprised that the
whiskers around his mouth were coarse and bristly while the hair on
his cheeks, the longer more lightly colored ones were soft to the
touch.
Saber grabbed Mercy's bra strap and ripped the hooks apart and
slipped the arm straps over her shoulders. She voluntarily offered
to take off her shoes, pants and hose as he got on his knees and
began to fondle her breasts, taking turns sucking on each of them.
When she was completely undressed, he removed his boxers and
together the lay down on the floor he was of course on top. He began
kissing her opened mouthed, careful not to hurt her with his fangs.
She moaned in ecstasy as he moved his tongue deeper into her mouth.
He stopped kissing her mouth and began to blowing in her ear,
licking her lob and lingering his tongue down her neck.
"What do the kids say?" He whispered. "Trick or treat?"
Mercy whispered back. "Yeah."
"Well Fluffy," He purred into her ear.
"This ain't no trick, but I'm going to give you one hell of a treat."

Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?

By Nadja Lee        10/26/02

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.
Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.
Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.
Timeline: Set after the X-men movie.
Universe: Movie. ONLY movie!
Romance: Now that would be telling...
Summary: Logan, Rogue, Jean, Scott and Ororo talk about how the others hurt them
and wonder why and if it’s on purpose.
Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.
Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...
Rating: PG-13
Sequel/series: Part of “Thoughts” which includes “Tears On My Cheeks”, “The
Charm Of A Woman” and “Who Needs You Anyway?”. This series doesn’t have a
continuing plotline but are stories written with the same flow and style. You
therefore do not need to read the earlier stories, as they have nothing plotwise
to do with this one.

Thanks to Estelle for beta.



*                                          *
*

I’ve never let anyone come close enough to know me…to hurt me. If I didn’t care
for them they could never hurt me nor let me down. I was safe that way.

But I’m not safe anymore. I don’t know how but she has managed to get under my
skin. I try to tell myself I don’t care but I do. I can’t allow myself to
analyse what I feel for her because I fear my heart already knows the answer. I
can’t let her have this power over me. She could bring me down, she could
destroy me…. she could hurt me worse than anyone I can remember.

How did this happen? How did I let it happen? I’m no one’s saviour and no one’s
hero…yet I’ve become hers and…and I find I like that. I like protecting her,
taking care of her…. and that scares me because I wonder…how far would I go to
protect her? All the way? All the way…

I can’t allow this. No one can hold such power over me; no one. Yet I
wonder….would she ever really want to hurt me and even if she did…wouldn’t the
pleasure be worth the pain?

I need time to figure it all out. I’m not ready to let another hold such power
in their hands….not yet. I need…..I don’t know what I need….yes, I do know….I
need her…..and that’s what hurts me.

I want…I need……don’t hurt me…don’t betray my trust……don’t hurt me…..

~Logan



Why did he leave? Why did he leave me? Doesn’t he care? Was it all a game; a
cruel game with my heart?

He saved me; he almost gave his life for me…now I see that he can take it all
back again. Now I see what power he holds over me because I’m lost without him.

This pain within, this emptiness in my heart….only his return can ever ease my
agony….please; don’t say it was all just…pretend. Don’t say I have been dreaming
and it’s time to wake up. Someone please tell me that sometimes a girl can find
Prince Charming…even if he in my case is a mutated Prince….

Was it all a dream? Am I kidding myself? Doesn’t he feel what I feel? Did he
leave because of me?

Did he really want to hurt me? No, I can’t…I won’t believe that….let me dream
just a little bit longer…

I wish to keep dreaming….let me dream…let me dream….

~Rogue



Why? You never touch me; you never show any affection…you’re closed off. I can’t
seem to reach you anymore. Where did we go wrong and can we ever make it right
again?

He arrived when I needed it…he was there, he wanted me, he was direct…..I never
had to guess his motives, I never had to play any games. I needed him then and
he was there.

I did what I did….I can’t change that. The problem isn’t him…it’s…I just felt so
alone and you seemed so distant….I needed someone to want me, to need me…to
desire me. I just wanted someone to want me.

Can’t you see how your control strangles me? Can’t you see how it hurts me? I
want you to lose control with me occasionally. I want you to tell me things, to
touch me in public…I want those things!

Don’t you care? Can’t you understand that I do what I do to get your attention?
To get you to notice me? To get you to understand? Can’t you see this is a plea
for help and I want you to be the one to help me up again?

Can’t you see how I’ve fallen from grace? Can’t you tell?

Come back to me….help me up again….please…..do you really want to hurt me? I
don’t know anymore but if you don’t then please…….help me up….help me rise
again.

~Jean



Don’t do this. You pain me, you torment me…you drive me to the borderline of
anger, desire and madness. Stop this game…. can’t we ever just talk about it
like we used to?

You must know how it pains me to see you with others…especially him. The more
you flirted with him, the more I disliked him and the more you flirted…. it’s a
never ending circle of pain that only we can break.

Can’t you understand that I’m scared of your rejection? Can’t you understand
that not everyone holds out his heart in his hands for anyone to take…or step
on? Can’t you see that for some that is a really big risk?

You do hold my heart and you always will but can’t you see how my heart lies
bleeding in your hands? Can’t you see me standing here behind you…longing and
wondering?

I know what you do; I know you do this to torment me…..but why should I be the
one to reach out? What guaranties do I have? You held my heart…and you stepped
on it. If I should reach out now and you let me go…I’ll fall and I’ll burn…don’t
burn me…don’t burn me…

Once when things were new we talked about everything and it was happy times.
Then somehow things changed. I got suspicious, you began to add fuel to my fire,
my anger towards what you did made me cold and my coldness only drove you
further away. It’s a circle of pain…. such bittersweet agony…..The question is
not if we can break it but if we dare?

So…do we dare? The question that needs answering first is…do you really want to
hurt me? Once I was sure you didn’t….now I think you might and that is what
holds me back because I fear…I fear you’ll burn me.

Don’t burn me…don’t burn me….I might never recover…don’t burn me…

~Scott



Why don’t you see me standing here? Can’t you tell how your friendly smiles and
touches drive me to the edge? Can’t you understand that I want more than that?

Working with you so closely and knowing you see me only as a friend…do you have
any idea how that feels? Do you have any idea how much that torments me?

Whenever you smile at me or compliment me my heart finds a million reasons to
why you’ll do or say that…all involving that you truly love me. Then you leave
me, forget me…and I’m left in agony and wonder why I even bother dreaming….yet
one smile and I’ve forgotten all my rules of caution.

I should tell you how I feel and get a clear answer once and for one…at least
it’ll stop my agonizing wondering. But I dare not. What if your answer is no?
Then I’ll have nothing left; not even dreams.

It’s a gamble…do I dare? Do I have the strength to move on if your answer is no?
Yet do I have the strength to keep living like this?

The question is do you really want to hurt me? I know you don’t…. but you can’t
force feelings so even though I know you’ll hate to hurt me….you’ll never lie to
me.

Dare I ask? So many times I’ve played out such a conversation in my mind but in
reality I’ve never gotten any further than saying your name before I’ve
regretted my sudden courage and covered it up with a work related question.

How can saying words in a certain pattern be so difficult? So agonizing to even
think of? Do I dare ask? Do I? If only….I wish…I hope….

Please….lie to me……lie to me….

~Ororo




The End

I have a 20" Wolverine Power Basher doll...says 15-20 phrases used
but in great condition....got it as a gift...wanting to
sell...collectors item...If you're interested then please reply...I
have pics of the doll....Jonny

Look for story information in part 1.

*m/m sex in this chapter*

Chapter 13

When Erik entered the bedroom, Charles was already there. He was
sitting in the bed, on his usual side, which was right, wearing his
blue cotton pyjama, reading.
   He looked up from his book when Erik came in, but didn't say
anything and quickly looked down into the book again.
   Erik couldn't tell if he was still angry; he couldn't tell what
Charles was thinking at all. He was good at concealing his mood, and
Erik was no telepath.
   Erik didn't say anything either, when Charles didn't. He concluded
that his lover was still angry with him, and therefore chose to
ignore him. He also wondered if he was assumed to sleep on the sofa
again tonight? Unless Charles said anything else, that was obviously
the case.
   Sighing, he undressed and pulled on his pyjama. He looked at the
sofa, where he slept last night, and then at the bed, where he really
should be sleeping, next to his lover.
   Slowly, with heavy steps, Erik approached the bed. He knew that
Charles knew he was coming, but he showed no signs of noticing it.
   How bad could this be?
   Erik crawled down on his side, and sat down, with his legs folded
under himself. He leaned against Charles and rested his chin on his
shoulder.
   - Hi... what are you reading? he asked, hoping that Charles would
understand the message in his pronouncement, and realize he wanted to
make up. Charles knew very well that Erik was never interested in
what he read.
   This time he read a book, not a magazine.
   - Here, see for yourself, he said and handed Erik the book.
   The book was called "The Lord of the Flies", and was written by
William Golding. Erik had heard about it, but never read it.
   - Is it good? he asked Charles.
   - Yes, very good.
   Charles still spoke without looking at him. Suddenly Erik grabbed
his jaw and turned his face against himself. Now their eyes met for
the first time during the whole day.
   - Charles, the grey-haired man said pleadingly. Look at me, please?
We are still friends, aren't we?
   For a while Charles Xavier was quiet and gravely looked into his
friend's pale blue eyes. His feelings were mixed. He loved Erik, and
did not want to fall out with him, but he was still angry because
Erik had brought Lecter here. But did he really have a reason to be?
   Charles couldn't hold back a smile. - Yes, we are still friends, he
said and leaned out to kiss Erik.
   Erik eagerly returned the kiss and moved closer to Charles. He
wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, as he rubbed his nose
against his cheek.
   - What do you say? Shall we make love? he whispered.
   - Yes, that would be great, Charles whispered back.
   - You don't want to continue reading "The Lord of the Flies"?
   - I'll rather read you.
   Warm with joy and excitement, Erik straddled Charles pelvis,
without breaking the kiss, which now became more frantic and
passionate. He started unbuttoning Charles' pyjama shirt to get if
off him. He was eager, and almost ripped a few buttons away in his
fervour.
   Quickly he pulled the garment down Charles' shoulders, and then
passes his hands over his bare chest. The telepath's nipples
instantly stiffened when Erik's hands touched them, and Erik could
clearly feel his erection pressed against his thigh, still covered by
cloth. But not for much long.
   Magneto moved for a moment, let his hands slide inside the
waistband of Charles's pants, and quickly pulled them down, and then
off.
   Charles gasped when the relatively cool air in the room came in
contact with his hot, throbbing erection. He shivered.
   Erik quickly passed his hand over his stomach and crotch, but did
nothing more, since he was in a hurry to get out of his own clothes.
He wasn't more gentle with them than he had been with Charles'.
   When he was finally naked, and free from all confining clothes, he
sat for a while, folding his legs under himself, opposite Charles in
the bed. His arousal was obvious; his penis was hard and jutted forth
from his body as a proof.
   Charles regarded him with lust. Erik was slender, and his body was
long and slim; thin torso, with long arms and legs. His skin was
pallid and hairless; not as smooth and soft as it was once, but
nowadays a little wrinkled, but still beautiful, and Charles couldn't
wait to caress him.
   Above the soft, grey tuft of pubic hair between his legs - his only
visible body hair - was his stomach, flat, with only a few wrinkles.
   Charles grabbed Erik's penis and gently pulled him close.
   - Now come here, he said, his voice faint with excitement.
   Erik smiled, and sat astride his lover again and kissed him.
Charles opened his mouth to let in Erik's tongue. Simultaneously he
stroked the other's body with his hands; his back, his slender waist,
his buttocks and thighs, and the erection between them.
   - Charles? How shall we do...? Erik murmured between the kisses.
Will you do the deed, or shall I?
   Of course he already knew what Charles usually wanted, but he asked
anyway. If Charles wanted to break the habit, he would not mind. It
was good both topping and being topped.
   But Charles was sure of what he wanted. He wanted to be penetrated,
and feel Erik in him. He cupped Erik's head in his hands before he
answered, and rubbed his cheekbone with his thumb, then his moist,
warm lips.
   - You, darling, he then said.
   He knew Erik preferred to top. They complemented each other.
   - Alright, Magneto replied with a smile. Then let's do that.
   He leaned his forehead against Charles' for a moment before he slid
off of him, to look for the tube of lubricant in the bedside drawer.
   "The tube" appeared to be a small, white bottle, and the lubricant,
which it contained, was transparent and thick, reminding of shower
gel.
   Erik spread his lover's paralysed, limp legs and pushed his knees
up, placing him in the position he wanted him in; on his back with
drawn up, splayed legs.
   He spent a few seconds stroking the erection between his legs,
before he brought his hand down to lubricate his opening.
   He quickly found the puckered and tight little opening between
Charles' buttocks, and entered him with two sleek fingers.
   Charles gasped when he felt the intrusion. Not because it was
uncomfortable, but the gel felt cold in his warm passage. But when
Erik's fingers found his prostate, he forgot everything else and just
moaned from pleasure.
   - Alright, let's get started, said Erik. We don't want you to come
before we have even started? Are you ready?
   Charles managed to nod. - Ready... he breathed.
   Erik stood on his knees between his splayed legs and coated his own
erection with some lubricant. Charles was right. The lubricant really
felt cold against warm, sensitive skin. He couldn't help shivering.
   Erik leaned over Charles, so they could look each other in the
face, with the most of his weight taken onto his own elbows. He
kissed the telepath's cheek and neck, as he started to enter him.
   The pounding from Charles' aorta reached Erik's lips.
   When he was fully sheathed, Erik started thrusting. Charles lay
still in the bed under him, and only moved when Erik's thrusts made
him move.
   Erik had very much liked to try another position, but of course
Charles' paralysis limited the amount of sexual positions they could
do.
   He could for instance not stand on all fours without help, or hold
his own legs up. The usual missionary position was the position that
brought him least strain, so therefore they always had sex in that
position.
   And it worked, too. Erik gasped and moaned with pleasure while he
thrust, and occasionally claimed Charles' mouth.
   Charles was hot, moist and very tight, and Erik rode him hard and
fast. He quickly approached his orgasm.
   Charles new Erik was close to coming. He himself was not. Erik's
pounding against his prostate surely sent electric shocks into all
his nerves, but it used to take time before he came this way.
   He finally grabbed Erik by the shoulders, and breathed in his ear,
   - Please... not yet...
   Magneto tried to postpone the crucial moment by being completely
still for some seconds, and then started thrusting again, although
slower. He did it for Charles' sake. The other man's pleasure was
important to him, and he would be a lousy lover if he came before his
partner reached orgasm.
   - Thank you, Erik... Charles whispered after some time, and Erik
could feel the ring of muscles around his opening contract around his
member. A sticky pool of hot fluid formed between their bodies.
   Erik came too, about half a minute later, emptying his seed into
his lover, who already lay spent and exhausted under him.
   Directly after the orgasm Erik was stricken by a faintness that
made him collapse on top of Charles, and they lay there for a while,
with their sweaty and tired bodies entwined.
   With an effort of will Erik finally rose a little, since he after
all didn't want to fall asleep on top of Charles, and in him. His
penis was flaccid now, but it was still inside Charles' rectum.
   - Maybe you want me to stay in you all night? he asked with a weary
smile, but he got no answer from Charles. He was already asleep. His
face was lax and expressionless, and his eyes were closed.
   Erik gently, not to wake Charles up, slid out of him with a wet,
sucking sound. He then placed him on his side in the bed, and spread
the cover over him. He placed himself behind Charles, back against
stomach, and wrapped his arm around him.
   - Sleep tight, sweetheart... he said to the other's neck. I am so
happy we are friends now...
   Then he kissed him, and simultaneously felt that both his and
Charles' stomach was wet. Oh, damn. Maybe it would be best putting a
condom on his penis next time they did this?
   But Erik had no more strength to think about that now, and soon
slept as soundly and peacefully as his telepathic lover.

Look for story information in part 1.


Chapter 14

Hannibal Lecter sat huddled in an armchair in his temporary room at
the mansion, with a drawing pad, which the professor had generously
provided him with, on his lap.
   He was making a sketch with a sharp lead pencil. The sketch he was
working on represented a woman; her face was Ororo Munroe's. With
just a few elegant motions he drew her large, soulful eyes, her full
mouth, and heart-shaped face.
   Doctor Lecter thought, that even though the drawing became very
precise and lifelike, it could not catch the incredibly beautiful
woman's beauty as it was in real life.
   Hannibal could relax. He knew that no one from the FBI would come
here for him. He was safe. For now. It was a relaxing thought, but he
was feeling bored. After so many years in narrow cells in prisons and
asylums, Hannibal did not like sitting in just one room, but he knew
the professor would not like if he was sneaking around at the mansion
at nights.
   Xavier didn't like to have him here in the first place.
   What does he believe, really? thought doctor Lecter. That I will
murder his students in their beds?
   But despite that he didn't like the decision, he felt bound to
respect his host's wishes. To keep busy, he spent his time drawing
and reading. There was no TV in the room.
   Hannibal wondered if Jean had gotten time to talk to Xavier, and
ask him if doctor Lecter could stay and help her with the serum.
   Suddenly he heard knockings on his door. Hannibal looked up from
his drawing, a bit surprised. It was soon eleven o'clock. Who could
want something at this time?
   - Come on in, he called, and expected to see Jean, coming to tell
him that there was no chance in hell he could stay and make the
serum, but that he must get his ass away from here not a second later
than what had been decided.
   But it was Ororo. She opened the door and came in, carrying a food
tray and a smile. The doctor was almost taken aback.
   - Miss Munroe... he said when he had pulled himself together. What
a pleasant surprise...
   Smiling, Storm came and sat down in the sofa, next to his armchair,
and placed the tray on the table before them.
   - I thought you might be hungry, she said. I was to cook you
dinner, but I couldn't find you then. I hope you don't feel I am
forcing my way in...
   - No, no, certainly not. It was very sweet of you. And yes, I am
actually very hungry, he added with a smile. Let's see what we have
here...
   - I cooked the dinner myself, Ororo said proudly. I hope you will
enjoy it. I wasn't really sure what you liked, so...
   - It looks delicious, said doctor Lecter.
   On the tray there was a plate with meat - probably lamb, the doctor
guessed - roasted potatoes with meat sauce, a bowl of salad, a bread
plate, and a bottle of red wine.
   - Did you make all this for me? the doctor asked in surprise.
   - It was nothing, Ororo replied casually. I thought you might be
hungry, and came up with the idea to surprise you. Nothing at all.
   - You are an angel, Hannibal said, and really meant it.
   Ororo Munroe was an angel, in every way. She looked like one, and
truly acted like one, too.
   - Now eat, before it gets cold, Storm said, embarrassed, and turned
her gaze away. Then she saw a glimpse of the drawing pad the doctor
had on his lap.
   - What have you drawn? she asked, interested. May I see?
   Hannibal looked at the drawing, and sighed, but still he handed her
the pad.
   Storm gasped when she saw the sketch, which was representing her,
and regarded it in silence for a few seconds. The drawing was
excellent. It was like looking at oneself from a distance.
   - This is amazing, she said, breathless and stunned. You really
have a talent! I have no words...
   - I was bored, Hannibal explained. So I came to think of you,
and... well, I got the idea.
   - You are a real artist.
   - Keep it, Hannibal offered.
   - No, I couldn't... Ororo began, but got interrupted by doctor
Lecter.
   - Nonsense, he said determinedly. If you like it, you shall keep
it. I can make a new one whenever I feel like it. Keep it as a memory
of me.
   - Thank you, Ororo whispered and placed the pad, as though it had
been a priceless treasure, on the table.
   - Miss Munroe...
   - Please, call me Ororo.
   - Ororo... I should eat now, before it gets cold, doctor Lecter
said, and leaned toward the table, pulling the food tray to him.
   Ororo sat quiet, anxiously waiting for his response. She usually
didn't cook dishes which contained meat, since she was a vegetarian,
so she had not much experience.
   What if doctor Lecter didn't like it? What if he didn't even like
lamb? It was Erik who said that he probably liked it. But he had also
said he didn't know for sure.
   Oh, God! If he said it was bad now, she would drop dead!
   Doctor Lecter ate in silence for a while. He had to admit the food
wasn't perfect; the meat was a bit too dry, probably because she had
kept it in the oven for too long, and the potatoes weren't spicy
enough. But the salad was great, and even if doctor Lecter usually
was a gourmet, he was hungry, and the food was more than good enough.
   Very well, Ororo might not be a master cook, but she had done this
from kindness, and that was all that counted.
   The wine was probably not the most expensive kind, but it was good
enough to swallow down the food with.
   Hannibal poured some wine into his glass and leaned back in the
armchair, sipping his drink.
   - Was it good? Storm asked anxiously.
   Hannibal smiled. - Yes, it was. I am used to more spices, but it
was good. Thank you very much.
   - Eh... I am a vegetarian, so I usually don't cook dishes with
meat.
   The doctor nodded. Okay. That explained it. But he thought that her
salad actually had been delicious.
   - I see, he said. Do you think I could return the favour? Would you
let me take you out to dinner, Ororo?
   - That would be wonderful, Storm replied instantly, without further
thinking, and immediately she got all warm inside. Then reality
caught up with her, and she remembered that doctor Lecter would not
stay for more than another day.
   - But... you're leaving soon, aren't you? she added sadly.
   Hannibal laughed. - I might not leave as soon as you think I will,
he said. It depends on professor Xavier's decision, whether I can
stay and help Jean to manufacture Rogue's new serum. If he permits
me, I might stay for another while.
   - You know about Rogue's new serum? Storm exclaimed.
   - Yes. Jean told me. I went through her research findings, and
helped her locating the error. She asked me to stay and assist her
with the production. We'll see if Xavier approves.
   Storm could hardly believe her ears. - *You* found the error? In
such a short time?
   Doctor Lecter nodded. - Yes. It was only something minor. Jean had
surely found it eventually. I just gave her a nudge in the right
direction.
   - It's unbelievable! Jean has been working on it for half a year!
How did you do it?
   - I have lots of experience of drugs, Hannibal replied calmly with
a smile. I am a MD, after all.
   - Were you in the med-lab all evening?
   - Yes.
   - I came by with the food before, but you weren't here then.
   - I left to explore the mansion, and suddenly I found myself down
there. I had never been able to imagine it would be so huge.
   Ororo laughed. - No, you weren't supposed to.
   - You never answered me about the dinner, Hannibal pointed out.
Will I get the honour to take you out?
   - That would be lovely! Ororo replied and smiled so widely her
cheeks tightened.
   - I feel honoured, but talk to the professor first, so he won't
accuse me of abducting you, or anything. It might be best.
   - I am a big girl, Storm said offended. I don't have to ask
permission for everything I do!
   - He doesn't trust me, Hannibal stated.
   - But *I* do, Ororo claimed. Are you really as dangerous as
everyone seems to think? she then asked.
   The doctor laughed dryly. - Media likes making a monster out of me.
   - I'm sorry if I...-
   - No, it's alright. I will try to give you an objective answer.
Yes, I can be dangerous, but I am no monster, at least not as media
says. Don't believe everything you have read about me. I am actually
not *that* bad.
   - I haven't read much about you at all, Ororo said. In fact I
didn't even recognize your name when you introduced yourself
yesterday. Charles told me who you were.
   - Then what did he say?
   - That you... are an escaped criminal. A mental patient.
   - Anything else?
   - Not much. He told me to be careful.
   Doctor Lecter sighed. - I almost knew, he said. Are you sure you
still want to go out with me? I won't take offence if you decline.
   - Of course I want to, said Storm resolutely. I think that you are
nice, and I am not afraid of you.
   The doctor chuckled and put his half-full wineglass on the table.
   - Not many people have said that to me after the verdict, if they
knew who I was.
   - I'm just telling you the truth.
   - I know that. I would notice if you were lying.
   Storm suddenly felt embarrassed, and she flushed. Oh no! Can he
tell that I like him? Is it really that obvious?
   - Enough about me, Hannibal said suddenly and leaned back again.
Can you tell me about yourself? How did you come here, for instance?
   - That was a long time ago.
   - Tell me, please.
   - I was born here, in New York, Ororo began. But when I was six, I
moved with my parents to Kenya, my mother's home country. When I was
twelve, my powers manifested for the first time.
   - What are your powers? Hannibal asked.
   - I can control the weather, and from there comes my codename;
Storm.
   - What happened then?
   - We lived in Kenya for another couple of years, and there I was
worshipped like a goddess by a primitive tribe.
   Storm smiled at the memory.
   - They believed that it was magic, not that it had anything to do
with genes. I gave them rain when they wanted rain, so they
worshipped me. The problem was that I couldn't always control my
powers. It's difficult for many mutants in the beginning. But anyway,
we moved back to the States a couple of years later. My parents died
in a plane crash, and after that Charles found me, and brought me
here.
   He taught me everything. Controlling my gift, he educated me,
taught me about values, everything... He became like my second
father.
   - I see. And now you're helping him by teaching the new students
the same things he taught you? asked Hannibal.
   - Yes, basically.
   - Charles Xavier is a decent and just man.
   - And loving, Ororo added.
   - He cares very much about his students.
   - He will let you stay and make Rogue's serum, said Ororo. He will
do it for her. She has had a hard time lately, not being able to
touch anyone. And it has been hard for Logan too.
   - Logan? asked the doctor, raising his brows.
   - Yes, he is Marie's boyfriend. Haven't you met him? He's also
called Wolverine. Tall, dark, muscular...
   - No... Hannibal said thoughtfully. I haven't seen him.
   Ororo shrugged. - Maybe you haven't. He is often out.
   - I'll rather see you, doctor Lecter said in a low, velvety voice,
that gave Ororo chills. She felt she was flushing again.
   Am I really falling in love with him? Yes. That is one possibility.
   - It's late, she murmured and started getting up. Maybe I should
leave you alone...
   - It *is* late, but it doesn't bother me.
   - I should go anyway. I have to be able to get up in the morning.
   - Of course.
   She got up and sat down on the elbow rest of doctor Lecter's chair.
Gently she placed her long-fingered, beautiful hand on his shoulder.
   - Good night. I suppose I'll leave now.
   - Good night, Ororo. Don't forget your portrait.
   - I won't.
   - And don't forget I will take you out to dinner.
   Storm laughed like a little girl. - I will definitely not forget
that.
   - Good.
   - I am really looking forward to it.
   She bent down to give him a (goodnight) kiss on his cheek - very
slowly, so he would able to recoil if he thought she was getting too
intrusive - but just as her lips brushed his smooth, fragrant cheek,
she felt his hand around her jaw, and doctor Lecter brought his lips
to hers, giving her a real kiss.
   Storm got so stunned she found herself returning the kiss. She had
not expected it, but she didn't welcome it any less despite that.
She, who hadn't been kissed for years, returned Hannibal's kiss
without hesitation, and got so eager that she thought she had
frightened him.
   He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm's length after a
while.
   Storm got terrified and embarrassed. Had she passed the limit?
Maybe he wasn't interested in her like that at all, but only had in
mind to give her a platonic, friendly kiss?
   Ororo confessed quietly to herself that that was not what she had
wanted. If he had pulled her close, and wanted to do more than just
kissing, she wouldn't have resisted. She had even welcomed it.
   But he didn't. For a while he just sat still in the armchair,
looking at her as he held her by the shoulders.
   - Good night, Ororo, he said seriously. I'll see you tomorrow.
   - Yes, good night... See you...
   She couldn't resist the impulse to place her hand on top of his. He
smiled and let go of her.
   Storm got to her feet, started walking toward the door, and
remembered she had forgotten the portrait, and turned around to get
it.
   Her heart was pounding the whole time while she stayed in his room.
   They said nothing more that night, but Ororo left, and doctor
Lecter stayed in the armchair. The place where her lips had touched
his burned for a long time after she had gone.
____________________________

It was dark in the room and Rogue lay in her bed, when Logan
returned.
   He didn't turn on the lights to wake her up. He could see well in
spite the lack of light. The young woman looked like a formless heap
under the quilt, and her long brown hair was spread over the pillow
like a fan.
   Probably she was sleeping.
   He thought of their conversation in the corridor earlier that day.
Rogue had claimed that they could not continue their relationship as
it was now. Really, Logan agreed with her. The situation was becoming
unbearable. But what was there to do about that?
   He had promised Rogue that their love, and the hope of some day
being able to touch her again, were enough to keep their relationship
alive.
   But was it really enough? Wasn't he lying to himself now?
   Quietly he started to undress in the darkness. Rogue had not moved
since he came in. She had to be asleep. Otherwise she would have said
hello to him when he came.
   Silently and gently, he approached her bed - *her* bed, he reminded
himself. Not *their* bed anymore - and looked at her in the darkness.
He had wanted to bend down and give her a goodnight kiss on her
cheek, but of course he couldn't do it.
   He just stood there, by her bed, for a long time, not really
knowing what to do. At last he touched her spread hair carefully with
his fingertips. It was soft as silk.
   Rogue did not respond. Logan went to his bed and crawled down into
it, to get some sleep.
   When Rogue heard that Logan had gone to bed, she opened her eyes.
Tears gleamed in them, but she wasn't crying.

Look for story information in part 1.


Chapter 15

When Erik and Charles woke up in the morning, they both discovered
they were in a strong need of a shower. They had dried up semen and
stains of the lubricant almost everywhere; Erik's stomach, chest,
hands and groin were sticky.
   It was even worse for Charles. He had dried up semen on his back,
stomach, and between his legs - even his pubic hair was completely
stiff from it - and also on his inner thighs, since some of
Erik's
semen had trickled out of his rectum during the night.
   When he woke up, and felt how sticky he was, he couldn't help
laughing.
   - I think I need to get cleaned... he chuckled and nudged Erik, who
still appeared to be asleep, tightly pressed against him. Erik just
grunted something inaudible first, but when he came to life, he
couldn't other than agree.
  He sighed. - Well, Charles, I think we do need a shower, he agreed.
   The proof of their pleasure last night was still sticking on them,
and as dry stains on the sheets.
   - I'm sorry that our love has to be so sticky, Charles said.
   - Hmm... Erik agreed, and sat astride Charles' pelvis, while he
lay
on his back in the bed. But it was good!
   - Yes, it was, Charles said with a smile, and stroked Erik's
slender arms with his hands, and then rested them on his shoulders.
   - Hey... Erik said slowly and bit his lower lip, as though
something troubled him.
   - Yes?
   - Are you still mad at me because I... brought Lecter here? Magneto
asked.
   Charles was quiet for some time before he answered. - No, he said
then. I am not mad because of that any longer. I made a too big deal
out of it already to begin with. I realize that you only wanted to
help him. It's alright.
   Erik smiled and leaned down to kiss his friend. Charles returned
the kiss, but was then reminded of how sticky they both were.
   - We should have a shower, he finally said.
   - Together?
   - Of course. If you scrub my back, I'll scrub yours.
   - What about your front side? Erik said with a grin.
   - You're happy to scrub my front side as well.
   Erik reached down his hand and grabbed Charles' sticky, flaccid
penis.
   - And this? he asked smoothly.
   - That too! the telepath laughed.
   - Only if you return the favour.
   - Sure, I'll be happy to.
   - Deal.
   Erik jumped out of bed, without caring to dress. He bent down and
lifted Charles into his arms. It was a bit straining.
   Charles was not much shorter than Erik was, and probably also a
little heavier, and Erik was an old man, with limited physical
strength.
   In spite this, he carried his paralysed lover to the bathroom and
even managed to close the door behind him.
  Charles was impressed, but he didn't show it. Maybe Erik would
be
offended if he didn't believe he could do it.
   The pleasurable shower lasted for over an hour.

Look for story information in part 1.

Chapter 16

Hannibal Lecter and Jean came to the med-lab already 8:00 A.M. in the
morning. Jean had told him that professor Xavier had given his
permission to let him assist her with the production.
   As far as she could see, it neither pleased nor concerned him.
Doctor Lecter had been very matter-of-factly.
   They had decided to first go through the old results once more,
before starting the biocatalysis. Doing it might take a while, but it
had to be done thoroughly. Once small error could ruin the whole
serum.
   Doctor Lecter and Jean were putting on their lab coats. She had
lent him one of hers. It was way too large for him - he was at least
4 feet shorter, after all - but he fixed that by turning in the
sleeves, and actually managed to look quite presentable.
   Doctor Lecter looked presentable whatever he was wearing, Jean
thought. He was the type that didn't need to make any efforts. To
him, it was natural.
   They sat at a table, and went through Jean's earlier results in
silence.
   The doctor looked serious and focused, truly trying to focus on the
work, but thoughts of Ororo Munroe, and what happened last night,
kept on revolving.
   - Jean? he suddenly said.
   - Hmm... she murmured in reply, but without looking up from the
papers.
   - Does Marie know that we're doing this?
   - No, definitely not. Why?
   - Should we not tell her? This concerns her more than anyone.
   - Not yet, said Jean. Let's wait. When we're somewhat sure it will
work, we'll tell her.
   - Who knows about this presently?
   - Jean thought. - Eh... you, me, Charles... I told Scott, my
boyfriend, and it's possible that Charles has told Erik. No one else,
I believe.
   - Ororo?
   - I haven't told her.
   - I did. Last night.
   Jean's eyes widened. - You saw Ororo?
   - I did.
   Doctor Lecter was good at keeping a straight face, but Jean
couldn't help noticing a small quiver in his voice when he spoke of
Storm.
   - I know she likes you, she said quietly, and waited for the
doctor's reaction. There was barely any reaction at all.
   - I know. I like her as well. She is a sweet and kind girl.
   - No, you know what I mean! She likes you, *that* way!
   Now Hannibal put his papers away and looked Jean in the eyes. He
almost smiled. Of course he knew. He just wasn't really sure what to
make of it.
   - Yes, he said slowly. I have noticed. So?
   Jean rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.
   - Hannibal, she said. Ororo is 27. She is fond of you. Everyone
who's seen her has noticed.
   - What is your point?
   - Ororo is my best friend. I cannot control her emotions, but don't
encourage her, for God's sake! You're leaving quite soon. There can
never become anything between you two. Not ever. Make sure she
understands that.
   Hannibal sighed. - Jean, I know. But that is between her and me. I
realize you care, and that she is your friend, but you shall not tell
her what she can, and cannot do. She is mature enough to make
decisions on her own.
   - Don't hurt her, Jean warned. Whatever you do, doctor Lecter -
don't hurt her. It might be best if it won't go any further.
   - Is that a threat? Hannibal asked amusedly.
   - No, not at all. A warning, with the best of intentions. All I say
is that Ororo can become quite nasty if someone hurts her feelings.
The warning was meant for you.
   - Thank you for your concern, miss Grey, but it will be fine,
Hannibal replied dryly. I promise not to hurt Ororo.
   - Good. Can we drop the subject now? We have a lot of work to do.
And we have to work as a team. It won't work if we hate each other.
   - Sure, I see, chuckled doctor Lecter. I don't hate you, Jean. But
I'd appreciate if you used lower heels, so I didn't have to turn my
head 90 degrees every time I look into your eyes. And, he added, I
will take Ororo out to dinner this evening. I thought I might be
honest and let you know, although you probably will be against it.
   Now he became silent. He wasn't even looking at Jean, but he still
knew she was looking at him with an angry, disliking expression.

Look for story information in part 1.

*m/f sex in this chapter*


Chapter 17

Doctor Lecter called and reserved at table at a Chinese restaurant,
Chinese Magic, in the centre of Westchester, and also, he rented a
car.
   Ororo had not forgotten her promise to let herself be taken out by
the doctor, and he hoped she would have nothing against the
restaurant that he had chosen.
   He sought her out five o'clock, just after finishing a long
workday
down in the lab with Jean. The mood between them had been chilly
after their conversation about Storm, and Hannibal had longed for
some other company than Jean.
   Ororo got delighted when he came to get her.
   - I hope you don't mind Chinese, he said with a smile, and his
raspy, pleasant voice gave, as usually, Ororo goose pimples.
   - No, not at all, I love Chinese! she replied and returned his
smile. Where are we going?
   - To a restaurant in Westchester. I have called them and reserved a
table for six o'clock. Will that be okay?
   - Excellent! Then I have...
She glanced at her watch.
   - ...about 30 minutes to get ready.
   - A beauty like you doesn't really need to get ready, smiled
doctor
Lecter. But I'll gladly wait outside while you prepare yourself.
Shall we meet at the entrance at five thirty?
   - Yes, that'll be fine.
   - I'll be waiting for you.
   Doctor Lecter glided away. Storm looked after him for a while
before she sneaked back into her room. Hannibal Lecter had been
wearing a dark silk suit; the same he had arrived in, three days ago.
He also wore a wig, and glasses; something he didn't usually
wear,
but Storm realized it was because he was wanted by the FBI, and
didn't want to be recognized.
   Despite the disguise, he looked very neat and distinguished. She
searched through her wardrobe for something that could match his
style and charisma.
   She decided to take something stylish, but yet simple, and chose a
black evening gown with thin straps, a flimsy, transparent shawl to
wrap around her shoulders, and low-heeled shoes, since high heels
would make her taller than doctor Lecter, and she did not want that.
   She let her hair stay loose, and put on some light make-up. When
she was finally finished, she took her neat, little purse and left.
   She had not told anyone about the dinner, but if she met someone on
the way, who asked why she was all dressed up, she was going to tell
the truth.
   Doctor Lecter waited for her in the lobby, just like he promised.
He said nothing when he saw her, but he smiled, and the look in his
eyes clearly revealed that he thought she was beautiful.
   Doctor Lecter had rented a black BMW. His very thorough and
believable false identities worked practically everywhere, and he
didn't have to be afraid of getting caught through them.
   The car smelled new and fresh inside, and the seats were made of
black leather. The car was dashing, but Hannibal was just sorry for
not having any music cassettes. They had all been left in the Jaguar
he left at the university.
   But he concluded that he much rather listened to Ororo's voice,
than any music.
   It took about fifteen minutes to drive down town. Ororo asked
Hannibal if he needed any help finding "Chinese Magic", but
he said
that wasn't necessary.
   Five to six, the BMW stopped in front of the restaurant.
   Doctor Lecter quickly jumped out of the car, walked around in, and
opened the passenger door to Ororo, offering her his hand.
   A bit surprised, but certainly very delighted, Ororo allowed
herself being pulled out of the car.
   He hooked her arm into his, and together they walked through the
entrance. In the ceiling, when they entered, there hung a
multicoloured chandelier, spreading a strong, beautiful lustre.
   Doctor Lecter told the restaurant keeper that he had reserved a
table for two, and certainly used one of his false identities. He
hoped that Storm wouldn't let the cat out of the bag, and maybe
call
him "Hannibal", or "doctor Lecter", but he didn't
believe she would
be so thoughtless.
   He had ordered a table by the window. Two live candles stood at the
table, and the window offered them a view over the city. The
restaurant was very beautiful.
   Ororo's heart pounded as they settled themselves. Each time she
looked into Hannibal's eyes, her heart rate changed. Her feelings
surprised her. She couldn't remember she had ever felt like that
for
anyone before.
   He must be thinking I'm a silly little girl! she thought.
   A waitress came by and asked if they were ready to order.
   Of course Ororo chose something vegetarian, and Hannibal didn't
blame her for it. He chose the same main course as she did.
   While they ate, they talked about a lot of things. Doctor Lecter
spoke much about his interests, but not very much about himself or
his background.
   When Ororo noticed that he didn't like talking about himself,
she
did not bother him with any questions, although she was curious.
   They started discussing literature instead. That was a subject
Hannibal had much to say about. They discovered quite soon that they
had about the same taste when it came to books; they both liked
biographies and fantasy novels.
   Ororo thought that this somehow brought them even closer, and she
felt more and more attracted to him.
   Doctor Lecter also mentioned that he cared much for lyrics. That
had never interested Ororo very much, but she politely listened while
Hannibal told her about Dante, Florence, and La Vita Nuova.
   Proudly he told her that he had been to Florence some years ago,
and lectured Dante before the Studiolo in Palazzo Veccio.
   Ororo told him much about her childhood, her growth in Kenya, and
her weather manipulating powers.
   He showed sincere interest, and all the time asked for more. He
talked, too, of course. Everything he said was maybe not so
interesting for Storm, but she liked listening to his voice, being so
beautiful, melodic and soothing. He had doubtlessly the most
beautiful and pleasant voice she had ever heard.
   They stayed until around eight thirty. The waitress swept by and
put the bill on their table. Doctor Lecter took out his wallet and
paid. Then he got up.
   - Come on, he said and offered Ororo his hand again. I will drive
you home now. It is getting dark.
   Storm took his hand, and together they left the Chinese restaurant.
He didn't let go of her hand while they walked toward the rent
car.
She was happy for that. She liked the heat spreading from him to her,
through the close contact.
   He opened the car door for her again, and Ororo couldn't help
feeling embarrassed in his presence.
   No one had ever treated her like that before. Suddenly she wondered
if all the terrible things being said about doctor Lecter were true.
They simply couldn't. How could a man, as charming, as kind, and
as
fascinating as doctor Lecter be a crazy psychopath?
   It didn't make any kind of sense.
   They drove back to the mansion in silence. Doctor Lecter was a slow
and calm driver. He didn't say much, but when they stopped before
the
red lights, he turned his head and gave Ororo another smile. She
shyly smiled back at him.
   She hadn't noticed how near the mansion they were. Only a
couple of
minutes later doctor Lecter turned into the Xavier institute's
approach.
   It had started to rain lightly while they sat in the car. Hannibal
put his arm around Ororo's shoulders, and they ran, crouching
down,
the short distance to the main entrance.
   Ororo pressed the code onto the number-plate, and the doors were
unlocked.
   - Have you had a nice evening, Ororo? the doctor asked as they
walked toward the housing rooms.
   - Lovely, Ororo replied. Thank you for the dinner. I...eh, liked
the restaurant...
   - It delights me that you were pleased with my choice.
   Now she smiled slyly. - Taste is a sensitive question!
   They stopped outside the door to Ororo's room.
   - Ororo, said doctor Lecter, taking her hand. I ask to thank you
for your company. It has been a very pleasant evening.
   - I should thank you, Ororo said faintly. You... what have you in
mind to do now?
   - I will probably withdraw, and maybe read something, Hannibal
replied. The professor has lent me many great books.
   - How is Rogue's medicine going? she asked to win more time.
   - It is progressing fine. Jean and I went through her old results
once more today. We are counting on starting soon.
   - That sounds great. I hope you succeed.
   - I hope so too. But I guess I should go now, he finished. Good
night, Ororo. See you around.
   Before he could turn away from her and leave, Ororo reached out her
hand and grabbed his arm.
   - You don't want to come in for a little while? she asked
spontaneously, and was surprised at how natural she sounded.
   At first doctor Lecter was quiet. Then he smiled. - Sure, he said.
Why not?
____________________________

- Would you like a drink? Storm asked after inviting doctor Lecter
in. I might have something you like in my cocktail cabinet.
Champagne, wine, bourbon, brandy...
  - No, thank you, Hannibal replied.
   Ororo interrupted herself. - Alright. I see. What would you like,
then?
   Doctor Lecter didn't answer at once. But then he walked towards
her, grabbed her shoulders, and kissed her.
   At first Ororo got a little shocked, since she really had not
expected anything like it, but after some time she started to relax
and began to return Hannibal's kiss, as she felt his grip of her
harden. His kiss tasted of the food they had eaten earlier.
   At last they broke the kiss, and Hannibal moved his hands from her
shoulders up to her cheeks.
   - Would you want me to leave? he asked and looked her gravely in
the eyes.
   - No... Ororo whispered and met his gaze.
   Doctor Lecter caressed her smooth cheek with his thumb. Ororo's
eyes seemed to express a multitude of feelings, but she certainly
hadn't lied to him.
   - I want you, Ororo, he said. But if you want me to go, I'll
go.
   - No...no... Storm said again, still with a trembling voice, but
she sounded more certain this time.
   - Are you certain?
   - Yes, I am. Please Hannibal, don't leave...
   He looked into her eyes and smiled. Then he cupped her head in his
hands and pulled her close to kiss her again. This time Ororo placed
her hands on his shoulders and eagerly accepted his kiss.
   Her mouth was hot and wet and tasted so nice. He pushed his tongue
into her mouth and licked her teeth. Ororo moaned faintly and wrapped
her arms around his neck, as she was wondering if this really
happened.
   She could hardly believe it. But it was happening, and Ororo was
welcoming it.
   Doctor Lecter's hands slid down to her shoulders again, and
this
time his long, nimble fingers began to pull down the straps of her
dress. She let him do it, although her heart rate increased
remarkably, and he noticed it.
   With a soothing smile, he said,
   - Relax, my dear. I only want to see how beautiful you are
underneath this.
   The gown fell to the floor. Underneath it Ororo only wore a
strapless bra, and small, white panties.
   Hannibal watched her with an intense look.
   - You really are beautiful, he said. So beautiful...
   He placed his arms around her to unbutton her bra, but now she
stopped him, half-heartedly. - No, wait... she mumbled. Let's go
over
here...
   She took a hold of his hand and started leading him toward her bed.
They walked very slowly. Hannibal watched Ororo, how her beautiful,
round hips swayed as she walked, and her thin back slender and
shoulders, as beautifully sculptured as an ancient Greek marble
statue.
   And then her hair, which actually was her most beautiful and
sensational feature. He only wanted to reach out his hand and pull
his fingers through it.
   Ororo turned off the great ceiling lamp, and instead she lit a
smaller lamp on her bedside table. She could feel his eyes on her,
and felt slightly embarrassed, but also very expectant and excited.
   It would surely be wonderful to make love to him.
   They still didn't speak to each other. Smiling, Ororo sat on
the
side of her bed, and Hannibal sat down beside her.
   She unbuttoned her bra herself and let it fall to the floor. Her
breasts were large and firm and high like a young girl's, with
large,
chocolate brown nipples, that stiffened when he touched them.
   - You can undress too now, she whispered in his ear.
   Hannibal did. He was more careful with his own clothes - it was his
best suit, after all - and neatly folded his shirt and his pants and
placed them in a nearby armchair. He hung his jacket on the
chair's
back.
   When he was naked, he went back to her in the bed. Ororo watched
him. He was quite short, and thin, but yet agile and muscular, and
despite his age, his skin and muscles were firm like a young
man's,
revealing that he was fit - and strong.
   Now he had an erection clearly displaying his arousal.
   When he crawled down to her in the bed, Ororo slid out of her
panties, and lay down on her back.
   Doctor Lecter kneeled in front of her and looked down into her
face. He only watched her for such a long time that she started to
feel awkward. Was there something wrong? Did he not want her anymore?
   Finally he spread her legs with his hands and looked down at her
sex. Her pubic hair was white, just like her head hair, and formed a
sharp contrast to her dark skin. It looked peculiar. Peculiar, but
beautiful.
   He swiftly passed his hand over the hair down there, and continued
to her cleft, opening her warm, wet vagina with his fingers.
   Ororo gasped for breath when she felt his fingers down there. She
started to grind her hips against him and made drawn-out moans.
   - Alright, Ororo... Hannibal said seriously. Ready?
   She nodded. - Yes, please...
   She felt her groin was on fire. She wanted him that much.
   Hannibal grabbed her legs and placed them over his shoulders, and
after that he entered her.
   It all happened very quickly. Storm groaned with both pain and
pleasure. The feeling came as quite a surprise. She had had sex
before, but it was a very long time ago, when she was a teenager, and
it had not been very pleasurable then.
   Doctor Lecter took it slowly. Perhaps it was for her sake. He
stroked her calves as he thrust into her, and that soothed Ororo.
Soon she started to feel pleasure, wanting more, and Hannibal
suspected that.
   He increased his speed, and she gasped every time he thrust, since
it actually felt extremely good.
   She didn't know for how long they made love, but the act lasted
for
a good while. Hannibal Lecter was a very persevering lover.
   When he was finally finished, and emptied himself in her, he leaned
over her, limp for a while, and she could hear the pounding of both
his heart and her own. Doctor Lecter lay with his face against her
neck, and she could feel his breath caress her skin.
   But doctor Lecter recovered quickly and his pulse returned to
normal, like his breathing. He got up onto his elbows and looked down
at her hot, flushed face. His gaze was as intense as always. He
gently kissed her cheek and then slid off of her.
   Ororo stayed down and breathed heavily. Hannibal lay beside her for
a while, on his side, caressing her hair and cheek with his fingers.
Finally she began to feel sleepy, and was almost asleep when doctor
Lecter suddenly said,
   - I should go now, Ororo.
   She woke up immediately. - Leave? she asked. Now? Why? Can't
you
stay here and sleep with me tonight?
   - I am afraid I can't, he answered. I have to get up early in
the
morning to work in the lab, and if someone comes to look for me in my
room, I have to be there. I am sorry.
   He swung his legs over the bedside and got up to look for his
clothes.
   Ororo got a lump in her chest while he was dressing. Why didn't
he
want to stay? She had the feeling that the reason he gave her only
was an excuse.
   - Was I bad? she almost whispered and tears started gathering in
her thick eyelashes.
   Hannibal sat on the side of her bed and tenderly caressed her
cheek, and then her back.
   - Bad? How can you believe that? You were wonderful! she said with
emphasis.
   And she really was. How could she even believe she was *bad*? He
bent down to kiss her forehead.
   - You were truly wonderful, but I really have to leave.
   - Okay.
   - You are not angry with me, are you?
   - No, of course not.
   - And we'll keep this to ourselves, can we?
   - Sure, Storm said.
   - Good night, Ororo.
   He got up in order to leave. She grabbed his arm.
   - Will I see you again? she asked.
   - That would be lovely. I can see you tomorrow evening, if that
suits you. We can go out. I know many wonderful places that I am sure
you'd like.
   - Great.
   - I'll see you. Good bye.
   He kissed her one last time before he silently left her room and
pattered back to his own.

Finally another DL piece, and even a Logan/Remy. Thanks to all those that waited
patiently. This is part of a movieverse AU series - Dark Legends. It is a rather
dark/gothic/sexy/violent AU that is being written by multiple authors as a
challenge series. The details and other stories can be found the Dark Legends
site: http://www.fandomnet.com/ghost/dark_legends.htm



Dark Legend Parity (1/1)

X-Men AU – Dark Legend Universe



RATING:               adult (NC-17 for sex, mild B&D overtones)

PAIRING:              Remy/Logan.
ARCHIVING:        Yes to the list archives and the challenge archive, other
folks should ask first (I haven’t said ‘no’ yet).

FEEDBACK:         Yes, please! Feeding writers increases productivity!
Tarchannon@...

DISCLAIMER:      None of the characters are mine – they belong to the people at
Marvel. I’ll only use and abuse them a bit and put them back when I am done.

SERIES/SEQUEL: Yes, the Dark Legend Universe. Occurs two days after the events
of Chapter Six

SUMMARY:         A plague visits the House of Xavier bringing death and dark
changes. Remy learns something about Logan as they unexpectedly grow closer.

COMPLETED:      4/19/03





Remy had been lurking in the shadows within earshot of Warren Worthington's
room, waiting to see if he could eavesdrop on any more private 'conversations'.
Various pairs of adults had decided that the deceased Angel's suite was a good
place for a secret rendezvous now that most of their own suites had been trashed
one way or another. Though the Cajun had bugged the room, there was no
substitute for the personal touch.



LeBeau drew back into the shadows, eyes closing for a moment after he caught a
glimmer of movement down the hallway. Reaching out with his kinetic sense
revealed no weapons, and barely slitted eyes registered the size of the man in
the dark. With a careful touch, he reached out with his charm.



"Logan," he realized, relaxing a little.



With a little mischief in his eyes, the copper-haired man watched the bigger man
move in the shadows, illuminated only occasionally as he prowled by the small
pools of moonlight coming from the tall, narrow windows. He moved with a fluid,
animal-like grace and a barely restrained ferocious power that drew the eye,
even when seen only in glimpses. Remy's lip curled upward in satisfaction as the
Wolverine approached. The Cajun knew he couldn't hide from that nose, and he
didn’t want to.



Things had been going well the last two days since they'd first became partners,
first in their current mission, and then moments later, they became sexual
partners as well. Even the glancing memory of their urgent rutting was already
making him hard in the confines of his black velvet pants. Now two days later,
Remy was horny as hell, and he deserved a treat. They'd gotten Hank was back in
business in the sub-basement - his electrical power isolated from Storm's random
lightning storms and restored - and his meeting with Essex had been encouraging.
With his heart's eye, Remy could feel Logan's tension from here. The gruff man
had worked hard, and kept everyone away while they worked. He deserved a treat
as well, and Remy knew just the thing. .



"C'mon out, Cajun. I can smell ya," Wolverine growled softly as he came hear.



"Non, Logan. You come *here*," the Cajun whispered, the steely edge of an order
made clear. Remy reached back and turned the knob of the door he was leaning
against and stepped backward, beckoning the Canadian with fiery eyes. A sly
smile touched his lips as he felt the first curls of desire blossom in Logan and
the saw his incredible chest flex as he begin to breathe faster.



Closing and locking the door behind the shorter man, Remy watched him, backlit,
move toward the tall window on the far side of the room, studying his lines in
the pale moonlight. Remy sauntered along behind until Logan turned, his strong,
grim, slightly wild face half-revealed in the silver glow.



"Whadd'ya need, Cajun?" he rumbled.



Remy watched his nose flair, and there was no mistaking the big man knew he was
aroused. His mind practically burned with lust due to the effects of the virus,
but there was more steel there now, an increase in self-control even in just the
last few days. Remy marveled for a moment that the man was fighting the virus
off, all on his own. There was a great deal to Logan beyond the wild hair and
the nearly savage demeanor, and he intrigued Remy. With his control restored,
LeBeau knew that the man would be the force of nature his file alluded to.



They'd had sex twice now, the first time a sudden inspiration born of his
instantaneous attraction and the need to fill Logan's mind with thoughts
overwhelming enough to keep Jean Gray's mental probes at bay. What Remy hadn’t
expected was that the claiming of Logan made him an instant player at the
Mansion, his virtual telepathic invulnerability tipping the power balance from
Xavier and Jean. In practice, Charles and Ororo Munroe were not daily factors,
their virus induced delusions of grandeur had driven them to withdraw from the
Mansion, leaving a maniacal controlling Jean Grey in charge most of the time.
Effectively immune to her, and having stolen one of her two favorite playthings,
he had been tangoing with her around the mansion, jostling for power. The first
time they had sex was to trick Jean into believing their presence in the
basement near Hank's lab was for a tryst instead of a covert meeting, but the
second was to throw Scott off the trail of their repairs. Remy doubted that he'd
ever forget either experience, but they had been work. He'd had two days to
think about it, and now he wanted Logan for more than just a convenient
distraction for the telepaths.



Remy grinned at the big man, catching the faint reflection of his smoldering red
eyes in the glass. "I want you, cher," he practically growled, doing exactly
what he knew Logan would like. Instantly, he launched himself against the
Canadian, driving him back against the hard wood paneling. Logan growled deep in
his throat, but the glimmer in his eye had nothing to do with fighting. Remy
threaded his fingers into Logan's shaggy dark hair, and grabbed hold, drawing
his head back. Leaning down and moving close, Remy fixed him with his eyes and
hesitated, lips maybe an inch apart. He tilted his head right and left, like he
was trying to decide how he was going to attack the man's mouth, and waited for
the whimper. Logan's mind was filled with primal need, but there was just enough
of his real mind there that he chuckled before he begged. The sign given, Remy
sunk home with a rough, deep kisses.



Remy had been surprised that Logan knew his way around a kiss the first time
around, but this time, without an audience and with a skill assisted by
familiarity, Wolverine matched him drive for nip. Soft and gentle or driving and
deep, they traded secrets told in bourbon and cigar smoke, they battle moving
back and forth, two people seeking parity not victory. Logan's hands kneaded the
small of the back and his ass, grinding their erections together, velvet over
denim. His hands stoked the big bulge in Logan's jeans and stroked the back of
his jaw line through the heavy sideburns to drive him crazy. They broke from
each other on occasion to tug a shirt tail out, or undo a button or three, but
Remy always threw himself back at Logan driving him hard against the wall with
the advantage of his height. Subconsciously, he knew it just drove Logan higher.



Nimble fingers had Logan's shirt off and his pants undone before the started
pushing them off over rock hard glutes. Remy gasped and Logan ground his teeth
as he slipped his hand into white briefs and tugged on Logan's thickness. That
bizarre link had flared as they had gone along, and the Cajun knew that he'd
have to stop touching him there soon or they both be done.



"Mon dieu," LeBeau groaned, pushing Logan back against the paneling and holding
him there for a second. Eyes bright with a feral gleam, Remy's brain skipped as
he saw Logan in the moonlight: the impossibly broad chest, pale skin over hard
muscle, flesh darkened in all the right places with moon-blacked hair. With a
groan, LeBeau dove to catch a nearly hidden nipple, lapping and nipping, as he
fumbled with the lacings of his pants.



The air was cool as he came free, proud and pale in the light. Logan's nostrils
flared and they shuddered simultaneously. Remy caught Logan's mouth - all salt
and tobacco – once more, and then he pushed Logan to his knees. Remy knew Logan
was too close, and he'd wanted this for days now. "I want dis," he ground out
through clenched teeth, his accent slipping back in, drawing Logan closer with a
hand on the back of his head. He leaned and brushed the head of his cock against
those surprisingly soft lips.



Softly, he ordered, "Hands behind y'back." He didn’t want to have Logan peak too
soon. Logan's eyes flicked up to meet his, and then lowered them obediently. He
felt an odd little stirring over the link, but he obeyed. Remy frowned a little,
but he let it pass as Logan's need returned in full force. With a gasp, he was
enveloped in soft, wet heat.



Logan worked him with his hot mouth, soft lips, and rough-smooth tongue, driving
him up on his toes more than a few times. The Cajun threaded his hands in dark
hair and rough sideburns, showing him just how he liked it. Logan growled
happily - a little scarily – and very nearly orgasmically as Remy buried himself
completely in his throat. Logan's muscles worked beneath him, popped into relief
by the position of his huge arms. Remy licked his lips as he watched Logan's
chest heaving, jewels of sweat glinting at the formed on his hair. Remy could
see his thick, drooling cock pulsing as he watched his own length being worked
wetly, shiny in the moonlight. It was so good, he climbed quickly, and he could
feel Logan spiraling up with him. It didn’t take long - the give and take was
too perfect.



With a shout, Remy came, Logan groaning around his shaft, his body stiffening
and rippling with convulsions of pleasure. Wolverine growled and swallowed
enthusiastically, matching him flex for flex. His mind rose above him for a
moment, almost forgetting himself.



With a little groan, he tugged himself free of a reluctant Logan, grinning
stupidly at his lover. He sank down on his knees there in front of Logan, knees
apart to avoid the evidence of Logan's peak.  "You came already," Remy growled,
trying to be playful and back in character. Logan seemed to like being told what
to do. But at the sound of his voice, Logan's eyes snapped down to the floor
between them, and the link cooled abruptly. The reaction startled him; he was
only teasing.



"Mon dieu, what have they done to you," Remy thought, aghast in his mind. The
Canadian's hands were still locked behind him. Softly, he called to the man,
trying to get him to look up. "Logan." He cold fell the darkness welling in the
older man.



When he didn’t respond, Remy reached over to gently cup his stubbled chin.
"Logan, cher. Look at me," he whispered gently, intimately. The dark-haired man
looked so lost as his head was tilted up and the moonlight glimmered in his
eyes. Remy knew his heart was in trouble when it leapt into his throat. "Wit'
Remy, dis a game, Logan. I t'ought y'liked it."



Logan didn’t respond, but Remy knew he was being studied carefully, smelled and
weighed. Remy knew he liked their little domination game; even now he could feel
it. But like that flicker he'd felt earlier, there was something else there.
Remy thought as he traced the lines of the older man's face with his eyes while
the considered what he's learned since he's arrived at the Mansion. When he met
Logan's deep brown eyes again, he knew.



Remy leaned forward and kissed those soft lips, thrilling at the hint of stubble
there. His fingers slid across melon-sized biceps to grab hold and tug them
free, sliding down furred forearms to grasp hands. In a smooth motion, Remy
stood, pulling Logan upward with him. Ignoring his confusion, Remy pulled
Wolverine's big, square-fingered hands to his narrow hips, and then moved in,
pressing their bodies close. With his eyes and a gentle tilt of the head, Remy
begged Logan for a kiss.



It took Logan a moment to respond – as if he had to think about it - and when
the Canadian did kiss him, it was hesitant. But, soon the cautiousness gave way
to the fire, and Remy was purring against Logan's soft lips. They were both
getting aroused, and Remy smiled as he could feel the mental and physical heat
building again.



Pulling away from Logan a little, Remy gently tugged himself free of hot,
groping hands reluctantly. Logan looked at him askingly, but Remy just grinned.
Ever-so-slowly, the Cajun sank to his knees, taking his time to lave nipples and
fur, belly and navel, hip and inner thigh. Logan was rumbling so deep, Remy
could feel it in his chest.



Now on his knees, Remy leaned back, leaving a space between them, and when Logan
looked down, he grinned. Slowly he made a show of tucking his hands behind his
back, leaning a little to let him see the swell of his pecs, the dusting of
coppery-hair highlighted silver there, and the deep furrows of his abs. With
eyes hot as the sun, he stared at Logan as he blew gently on the thick, heavy
sex in front of his lips. Logan didn’t want a master, he wanted a partner.



With a slow, lopsided grin, the Cajun asked, "Now, what d'ya want, cher?"














[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Look for story information in part 1.


Chapter 18

The production of Rogue's serum went slowly. There were so many
things to keep in order, and so many things that could go wrong, but
after two weeks doctor Lecter and Jean had at last managed to
manufacture a sample which they thought was somewhat pure, after many
unsuccessful attempts and tests.
   They repeated the attempt a few times to make sure that they got
the same results, and they did, every time.
   They both agreed on that the sample was ready to be tested on a
human - which meant Rogue, even though she didn't know about any of
this yet.
   The relation between Jean and doctor Lecter had been quite cold
since their talk about Ororo, but when they had managed to produce a
successful sample, Jean forgot to be cold, and flew around her
colleague's neck, screaming and jumping happily.
   - We did it! she cried. We *did* it!
   Hannibal had seen Ororo several times during the past two weeks,
and they had done a lot of exciting things together. He had taken her
to watch a play in New York City, to an art exhibition, and to his
favourite opera, "La Vita Nuova".
   They had made love another two times since their first time, and
last time Hannibal had actually dared to stay over the night in
Ororo's room, despite that he knew it was risky.
   Professor Xavier and a few more knew he took her out sometimes, but
he didn't believe anyone knew what kind of relationship they really
had.
   Jean did probably not know, or then she chose to ignore it, since
she had not brought the matter up again.
   When he spoke to Jean, it was about work, nothing else.
   Erik had come by a few times to ask him how he were, and given him
some magazines and newspapers to read. Doctor Lecter thanked him
politely, and asked Erik to thank the professor.
   Presently he was reading a book which Ororo had lent him, and
devoted less time to the magazines.
   - Do you believe we can test it on Rogue? Jean asked, while she was
holding their newest sample in her hand, in a beaker, solved in water.
   - It should be without risks, Hannibal answered. But first we have
to tell her, and allow her to digest the news. And there are always
risks, whatever you do. Anyway, the choice is hers.
   - Will you talk to her?
   - Sure, I can do that. But I think we should notify professor
Xavier beforehand, don't you think?
   - Of course, said. Jean. *I'll* do that.
__________________________

Jean visited Charles as soon as she got an opportunity, and told him
that they probably had succeeded in manufacturing a successful test
sample.
   Charles was very positive and proud.
   - It was thanks to doctor Lecter that it happened, Jean admitted.
It had never been possible without him. I know that he was supposed
to assist me, but I rather think that *he* did all the work, and I
*assisted*.
   - Where is doctor Lecter now? asked Charles.
   - He is down in the lab.
   - Why didn't he follow you up here?
   Jean shrugged. - I suppose he thought you didn't want to see him.
   Charles became quiet and lowered his eyes. Then he sighed.
   - Very well. You can at least tell him that I am very grateful for
his help, and that I can talk to him, in case he'd want that.
   - Of course, I'll tell him that, Jean promised.
   - It is just that... I don't want him to think that I loathe him,
because I don't, but I am in fact very grateful because he is helping
us, but it is just that... in some way... I don't know, Jean, Charles
said truthfully. His presence just gives me the creeps.
   - I can see what you mean. I can't say I love him myself, even if I
spend much time with him.
   - Ororo likes him, said Charles. He has really managed to charm
her.
   - Ororo doesn't know what she has gotten herself into, said Jean.
   - No, perhaps not, but she is an adult, Charles pointed out. She
can make decisions on her own. I know that you see her as your little
sister, Jean, but she is in fact capable of taking care of herself.
We have to accept that.
   - Yeah, I guess so, Jean sighed. Although she's fallen in love with
a serial killer!
   - Yes, despite that, Xavier said gravely.
______________________________

Logan was just about to leave, when someone knocked on the door. He
looked at Rogue, who was sitting at her desk, doing her homework, to
see if she knew who it could be.
   - Is Jubilee coming? he asked. Or Kitty?
   - Not to my knowledge, Rogue replied. Open the door, and we'll
see...
   Logan opened the door. Outside stood doctor Lecter, wearing a white
lab coat.
   But in spite that he had been at the mansion for over two weeks,
Logan did not really know who he was, but he had merely caught quick
glimpses of him in the corridor, every now and then.
   Someone had mentioned his name to Logan, but he couldn't remember
it correctly.
   What confused him even more, was why the man was here.
   He frowned. - You are... Lector, right? he asked.
   - Yes, Hannibal *Lecter*, with an "e". You must be Logan.
   - Yeah. What do you want?
   - I would need to talk to your girlfriend, Marie. Is she in?
   - About what?
   Doctor Lecter smiled. - Stay here and listen, if you are curious.
This concerns you as well.
   Logan was stunned, but he still let doctor Lecter in, and became
curious of what he had to say.
   - Hannibal! exclaimed Rogue when she saw him. Hi! What are you
doing here?
   - Hello, Marie, said the doctor, smiling. I have something
important to tell you.
   Rogue put her books aside, and regarded him with a questioning
expression. Logan stood behind her and placed his hands on her
shoulders.
   - Marie... doctor Lecter began. Really, Jean should be here with
me, since her part in this is as big as mine is, but now it happened
to be that I must come alone.
   - What is it? Rogue asked confusedly.
   - Well, it is something that Jean and I have been working on. Have
you not wondered why I have stayed here for so long?
   - You're the professor's guest. It's not my business to wonder,
replied Rogue. But what is...
   - We have done further research on your serum, said doctor Lecter.
And now we believe to have found a substance which truly works.
   Rogue's entire face whitened. At first she couldn't make a sound.
   - You mean... she whispered. Against my power?
   - Yes, exactly. We found the error, and we *believe* we have
corrected it. That is what I came here to say, Marie.
   - But I'm allergic to it!
   - I know, but we found the contamination which caused the allergy,
and removed it. Now it is gone, and we think you can start taking it
again. I have to ask you if you're willing to try the serum.
   Rogue flew up from her chair and started howling, screaming,
jumping, and clapping her hands like a little child.
   Only one last warning thought stopped her from throwing around
doctor Lecter's neck, despite that she could not touch people - yet.
   -  Oh, yes, yes, yes! she cried and looked as though she would
burst from happiness. I want to test it on myself, anything, just
make it work, oh, I'd like it so much... oh, Hannibal, thank you...
   - Hush, little friend, calm down now. It is not really done yet.
And you are aware of that there might be risks involved, even though
we believe them to be small.
   - That's alright, I want it anyway! When can we do it?
   - Shall we say tomorrow afternoon? That will give Jean and me some
time to go through it all once more.
   - Okay...but... I'm waiting...
   Hannibal approached her and took her gloved hand in his own,
squeezing it.
   - It is good that your attitude toward this is so positive, he
said. We'll see it will be just fine.
   - It has to, Rogue said, suddenly serious. It *has to*.
   - We'll go through the details tomorrow, said doctor Lecter, then
he and left.
   Rogue turned to Logan and wrapped her arms around his ribcage.
   - There you see, patience is a virtue, after all! she triumphed
with the happiest smile in the world.
   Logan, on the other hand, was so shocked he couldn't make a sound.

Look for story information in part 1.


Chapter 19

Logan and Rogue went down to the med-lab around 12.00 A.M. the
following day. They had barely slept at all last night, since Rogue
had not been able to calm down, but babbled constantly about how
happy and exhilarated she was, and Logan had not slept either, since
he'd been forced to listen to her.
   It had taken some time for him to realize the meaning of it, but
when he did, he became almost as crazed as she.
   Rogue could start touching people again. They could go back to
having a normal relationship. If now doctor Lecter's serum worked.
   Whoever that Lector is, we owe him a lot! he thought on their way
down.
   Logan and Rogue instantly noticed that they weren't the only ones
who had come. Charles was there, as were Cyclops, Storm, and Magneto.
And then the "scientists", of course. Jean and doctor Lecter, looking
very neat and professional in their white lab coats and glasses.
   Now Rogue was no longer manically happy and talkative. Now she was
restless and nervous. Her future depended on this moment. Logan was
also tensed up, but he tried to calm Rogue by saying that there was
nothing to worry about.
   Jean approached them while doctor Lecter was preparing an injection
syringe with a sample of the new serum.
   - Marie, Jean said seriously. I hope you have realized that there
are always risks involved. The medicine has not been tested before,
and we can't know for sure how your body will react.
   - I wanna do it, Rogue said, determined to go through with her
decision. If you never take any risks, you never get anywhere. Go for
it.
   Jean looked at Logan. - And you support her decision?
   Logan nodded. - Absolutely. I remember when you tested the first
serum. It's the same thing now.
   - Okay. I see, Jean said with a serious nod. Doctor Lecter!
   Hannibal hurried with the syringe ready in his gloved hand.
Together they brought Rogue to a chair in the med-lab and prepared to
give her the injection.
   But first they gave her a general medical examination. They
measured her blood pressure, blood count and asked her if she had
felt dizzy or nauseous lately, or if she had been ill.
   - I had a cold one month ago, or so, said Rogue. Nothing else. Why?
   - It was only a general examination, replied doctor Lecter. But you
seem to be a very healthy young woman, Marie. I believe it is safe to
give you the injection.
   - Go ahead, Rogue said.
   She removed her right glove and held out her arm, so that Hannibal
could give her the injection in her forearm. It stung a little when
he injected the substance, but nothing more. Rogue held her breath.
   - Does it work? she asked nervously. When will we know?
   - Not before half an hour, at the very least, replied Jean. You'll
have to wait here until that. You have to wait for the substance to
diffuse in your body.
   Rogue sighed impatiently and leaned back in the chair. She glanced
at the great wall clock hanging above the entrance. Mostly a minute
had passed since she received the injection. Yet no one would know.
   She got up and started walking back and forth. Constantly she
looked at the clock and anxiously bit her left thumbnail.
   The minutes crept along.
   - Don't we know if it works soon? Rogue said at last.
   - Soon, Jean replied and placed her hand on her shoulder. How are
you feeling? You are not feeling ill, or anything?
   Rogue shook her head. - No... I'm just... nervous, she confessed.
   Jean smiled. - It will be alright, Marie. Don't worry.
   But she did worry. The rest did too, that was obvious. Cyclops
pulled Jean aside and whispered something to her that Rogue couldn't
hear. She just nodded and whispered something back in a low voice.
   Professor Xavier and Magneto sat next to each other, looking
serious and resolute. Storm sat by herself and didn't say much.
   Only doctor Lecter appeared calm. He was sitting at a table, with
his eyes closed, and actually looked quite peaceful, like he was
having a really nice dream, or something.
   He is surely thinking about something else than me, Rogue thought.
   Logan tried to keep a straight face, but it could be seen that he
was nervous as well, because he constantly lit cigarettes without
taking more than a couple of pulls out of them. He seemed to have
forgotten that smoking actually was forbidden in the med-lab.
   Rogue waited for 35 minutes. Jean said that it was probably safe to
try then, and Rogue almost got so nervous she couldn't keep her hands
still.
   She - as well as the rest - realized how the test would happen,
even though no one had mentioned it yet. The only way to really find
out was to let Rogue touch someone without her gloves on.
   But before Rogue could ask for a volunteer, Logan offered himself.
   - Try it on me, darling, he said and approached her, seemingly cool
and fearless, but the corners of his eyes twitched.
   Rogue said nothing, but she gave him a grateful and loving look.
Then she slowly started pulling off her gloves.
   Oh, please God, let it happen... she prayed. Please...
   Logan stood in front of her, straight and stoical, and pulled a
deep breath when she raised her bare hand to place it on his cheek.
Her hand trembled.
   - Oh, Logan, what if I hurt you! she whispered.
   - Just do it now. If it doesn't work, you'll know at once, said
Logan.
   - But...
   - Do it.
   Logan was frightened, but he was more than anything hopeful, and
was not going to lose the chance of touching her again, after five
months of inability to do it.
   Without thinking further, Rogue placed her hand on Logan's cheek.
Simultaneously she heard some others in the room gasp for breath. She
felt Logan's warm skin and coarse stubble against her hand, and
terrified she expected him to drop to the floor, unconscious, because
she had stolen his life force, but nothing like that happened.
   Logan stood, as solid as before, and gasped when he realized that
it had actually worked.
   He grabbed her hand and held it in his own. They had direct skin-to-
skin contact, but nothing happened, no energy-transfer. It was just
like touching anyone.
   Rogue began to scream. She pulled her hand away and threw herself
around Logan's neck with such power that he almost fell backward.
   - It's working! she cried. Oh my God! It's working! I can touch
you! I can really touch you! Oh, Logan...
   Logan held her tightly and laughed too. Or then he cried. He wasn't
sure which.
   She took his face between her hands again and looked at him with
shiny eyes.
   - Logan... she breathed. Oh, Logan...
   Logan bent down and kissed her. He could kiss her! It was hard to
understand after such a long time without kisses.
   Finally Rogue turned away from Logan and threw herself around
Jean's neck instead.
   - Oh, Jean, thank you so much, thank you, thank you, I don't know
what to say... It's so wonderful.
   - Much of this is actually due to doctor Lecter, said Jean. He
found the error, and I had never done it without him. You should
thank him too.
   - Of course. Rogue tried to sound serious, but her face shone like
a sun.
   Hannibal Lecter had risen from the table and joined the others.
Rogue did not fly around his neck, but she just gave him a careful
hug, and thanked him sincerely.
   - Hannibal... you have no idea how grateful I am to you. You have
saved my future.
   Doctor Lecter smiled. - Well, I don't believe I did that much, but
I am happy because it worked, and because you are happy. Since that
you are, right?
   - Oh, yes! sighed Rogue. I am!
   The others hugged and congratulated her by turns. When it was
Charles' turn, Rogue seemed to forget he was the school's headmaster,
and bravely kissed him on the cheek.
   Charles was not offended. He laughed warmly and grabbed Rogue's
hands.
   - I am so happy for you, dear, he said.
   - Thanks, professor Xavier.
   - What would you like to do now?
   - I don't know... There's so much... I can't even imagine
everything I'd like to do.
   - Would you like a party? the professor asked.
   Rogue's eyes widened until they resembled flying saucers. - A
party? she exclaimed.
    Charles nodded. - Yes, but only if you want to, of course.
   - That's an amazing idea! Can I really?
   - Of course. You can start preparing at once. Invite anyone you
want to. Invite the whole school if you wish. I will pay for
everything.
   - Oh, thank you, professor Xavier! I want to! Tonight already?
   - Yes, tonight already. But you should start preparing soon so
you'll get everything done.
   Rogue just felt she had to bend down and give him another hug. Then
she even hugged Erik, who was sitting next to him.
   - You'll come, right? she asked. I want everybody to come!
   - Sure, we will be there, Erik replied and took Charles' hand in
his own. It will be fun. I haven't been to a party for centuries!
   - Very well, you have managed to persuade me, Charles smiled. Just
promise me it won't be too wild.

Look for story information in part 1.


Chapter 20

The whole afternoon Rogue and some of her friends prepared for the
party.
   Professor Xavier had given his students permission to skip the
remaining classes that day, so they could help Rogue with the party
arrangements.
   Kitty was there, of course, and Jubilee, and John.
   The party would be in the school's great dining hall. They had
moved all the chairs and tables against the walls, and decorated the
otherwise dull hall, so that it would look more festive.
   There even was a smoke machine at the mansion, and someone had
taken it out and dragged it to the dining hall, so it could be turned
on when the party began.
   Logan helped Rogue moving benches and tables, and that was good,
since there was no one else as strong as he was.
   It was hard work, but they were all having a good time, and time
passed quickly.
   Ororo was making brownies and muffins, and was presently in the
kitchen. Jean had unfortunately no time to help with the party
arrangements, since she had to stay in the lab and make more of
Rogue's new, efficient serum, so it would last for some time ahead.
But she had promised to come later in the evening.
   Rogue's friends, especially Jubes, were curious of the
mysterious "doctor Lecter" who had appeared so rarely, and yet done
so much. Rogue only gave secretive answers, but promised that they
would see him at the party, since he was to come.
   - Is he one of those famous scientists? Jubilee asked. He's got to
be, since he's so bright. But why is he here?
   - I honestly don't know, Rogue replied truthfully. You'll have to
ask him yourself.
   Although Rogue knew that Jubilee would of course not have the guts
to ask.
   - Maybe you should ask Ororo, she said instead. She's been spending
much time with him, and surely knows more than I do.
   - Has she been dating him? exclaimed Kitty, who had now joined the
conversation. Huh? Has she?
   - I don't know dating... began Rogue, and realized her mistake, but
it was already too late.
   - Oh, there is a *romance* going on! grinned Jubilee. Who could
have believed miss Munroe would ever start dating? And isn't he much
older than her? He's at least fifty, isn't he?
   - And he's so weird! Why is he hiding all the time?
   - He's not weird at all! Rogue interrupted. I've met him. His name
is Hannibal, and he is really sweet. And if miss Munroe likes him,
then it's her business. Forget I said anything.
   - But Marie... if you know something, tell us, Kitty begged.
   - I don't know anything more, sorry, said Rogue. We shouldn't stand
here talking and wasting a lot of time. There is much left to do.
   She left Kitty and Jubilee and went to put a bag of popcorn in the
microwave oven. Instantly she regretted that she had even mentioned
Hannibal and Storm's "close friendship".
   Sometimes Kitty and Jubilee could be real pains in the ass!
____________________________

Hannibal entered the kitchen and found Ororo, fully occupied making
brownies before the party. She was just about to pour the cake
mixture into a baking tin.
   - Oh, hi darling, she said with a sweet smile when she saw him.
   - Good evening, Ororo, the doctor replied. Are you baking before
Marie's party?
   - Exactly. I have to hurry so I will get it done. You are coming to
the party, right? It is for your honour as well.
   - Yes, certainly, I will be there.
   - I am so happy for her, smiled Storm. The whole girl shines like a
sun. It has been an awful time for her not to be able to touch
anyone.
   - I can imagine. But now she has gotten a fresh start in life. I
will come to the party this evening, doctor Lecter added, but then I
think I have to leave soon. I have already stayed for too long.
   Ororo's happy expression was erased. She put down the baking tin
and turned to face him.
   - Oh? she said quietly. Why? Don't you like it here?
   - But of course I do. I like it too much. But you know my
situation, Ororo. I cannot remain here.
   - Why not?
   - The FBI wants me. I cannot remain territorial, Hannibal said.
   - You'll be safe here, Ororo persisted.
   - No, I can't expose you to that. You are not responsible for me. I
have to make it on my own.
   - But I don't want you to go! she exclaimed. I want you to stay
here, with me. I...I... think that... I... love you, she whispered.
   And she wasn't lying. She had really fallen in love with Hannibal
Lecter, in only a couple of weeks. And now he would leave her.
   He approached her and put his hands on her shoulders.
   - Ororo, he said slowly. Don't say that. You cannot be in love with
me. It was never meant to be. Don't you realize that?
   - Why not? she said. Why wasn't it?
   - Because it just wasn't.
   Now he sounded resolute.
   - Ororo, stop thinking like that. You are only making it worse for
yourself.
   - How can I control my feelings? she sobbed.
   - No, you can't, he admitted, but let me give you a piece of
advice, as a psychiatrist. Accept it as soon as possible, and it will
pass. Trust me.
   - When are you leaving? she asked in a whisper.
   - Tomorrow morning, I suspect. I will attend the party, for Marie's
sake, but then I have nothing left to do here. The sooner I leave,
the better. I am sure professor Xavier agrees with me.
   Suddenly a new kind of passion flared in Ororo's eyes. - If you go,
I'll come with you! she said fervently.
   Doctor Lecter sighed. - Ororo, you can't do that, he said shortly.
You belong here, and I... don't belong anywhere, really. You can't
come with me. That is out of question.
   - But I love you! Don't you love me at all? I thought... that...
you... liked me...
   Her voice broke and the sobs took over.
   - Ororo, Hannibal said gently. I do like you. I like you very much.
You are a nice and beautiful woman, and a wonderful person, sweet,
loving, intelligent... and I admit that I was attracted to you when I
came here, but that does not mean that I love you.
   It felt like something broke inside her, but at least she knew now.
He did not love her. There was no chance for them to be together. Not
ever. Tomorrow morning he would whistle out of her life as quickly as
he came, and only leave memories behind.
   - Okay. I see, she said with a sad smile. I won't pester you
anymore with my silly little crush. Can we just pretend like it never
happened, or something?
   - My dear, I only want you to be happy today. At Marie's party. Try
not to think of this, but have a good time instead. For me, and for
Marie?
   Ororo nodded, but she felt all but happy. - Sure. Alright, she said
tonelessly.
   - I like you, don't forget that, said doctor Lecter and embraced
her.
   Yes, she knew that. But that was not what she wanted. She wanted
something that she could never get from him.

Look for story information in part 1.

Chapter 21

Erik and Charles were also preparing for Rogue's party. They had
decided to dress up extra nicely, in a tuxedo, with a bow tie around
their necks, and everything.
   Erik had plenty of clothes at the mansion, but he did not have any
tuxedo. Therefore, he had to borrow one from Charles.
   It went on him, but could of course have suited better. Since the
two men didn't exactly have the same build, it was hard to find
clothes that looked good on both of them. The tuxedo had to do,
because it was the only one available.
   But Erik thought he looked a little ridiculous in the jacket, which
was too wide over the shoulders and the trousers, whose legs were too
short.
   And he could not get the bow tie straight at all. No matter how he
tried to tie it, it was always oblique.
   He started to believe it would have been much easier if it had been
a ready-made bow tie, sitting on a rubber band. No one could tell a
difference anyway.
   Charles had not dressed yet. He was in the bathroom, brushing his
teeth, after showering.
   Why did I agree to this? Erik asked himself when he for the tenth
time failed to get the bow tie straight. Charles will have to help
me, or I'll screw this.
   Suddenly Erik's cell phone rang. He turned away from the mirror and
went to answer the call. He didn't bother checking who was calling.
   - Hello? he said, and heard that he sounded a little annoyed.
   - Erik, said Mystique on the other side. Hi, it's me.
   He sighed. - Hello, Raven. What do you want? I am kind of busy at
the moment.
   - I'll tell you straight out, Erik, she said after a while of
silence. I want you to come home.
   Erik frowned. - Home? he said. What? Now?
   - Yes, now! said Mystique, and he could tell by her voice that she
was getting excited. You have been over there for more than two weeks
now, without letting me know...
   - No, wait a minute, that isn't true! Erik interrupted. I sent you
a message with my cell phone.
   Mystique snorted. - Yeah, how thoughtful of you! she snapped. So
you remembered *that* anyway? I feel honoured! You didn't even bother
calling personally. Is that what I'm worth to you? One single little
phone message?
   - Alright, that might have been a little thoughtless of me, Erik
said in a softer voice. I apologize.
   - Oh, you do? Very well. Are you coming home, then?
   - So you are saying that I should just pack my things and come as
soon as you call?
   Now Erik got angry again.
   - Forget it, Raven! I can't come now. Maybe in a few days...-
   - Why not?
   - Raven, I am busy...
   - Busy! Mystique snorted contemptuously. Busy doing what? Busy
fucking Xavier?
   Erik sighed deeply, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his
thumb and index finger, not to start screaming out loud.
   - Don't be stupid, he said lowly, aware of that Charles was in the
bathroom and surely heard every word of this conversation.
   - Stupid! she hissed in reply. I can't understand that you rather
fuck that old cripple than me!
   - Don't talk like that about Charles! Erik screamed in the
telephone. Stay out of our relationship! There is nothing between you
and me anymore! Can't you just accept that, Raven? It would make it a
lot easier for all of us if you could.
   - What should I accept? Mystique said coldly. I thought we were a
team, Erik! Is there no Brotherhood either, you mean?
   - We have a professional relationship, but nothing more.
   - I rather think we have no kind of relationship at all! You spend
more time there than with me! Why not take the step and move out
there entirely?
   - I have thought about it, Erik replied truthfully, but I think
things are working well as they are now.
   - *You* think, *you* say, you, you, you! Everything seems to circle
around *you*! What about my feelings? Have you forgotten them? My
needs, and my thoughts! Don't you think of anyone but yourself?
   - I am sorry if I have hurt you, Raven, since that was not my
intention, Erik said calmly. But Charles and I are together again,
and you have to accept that.
   - What we had, then? Mystique said hollowly. Doesn't that mean
anything?
   - Of course it does. You have been an enormous support and a loyal
companion. But we had sex. That was about it. You said so yourself.
So I honestly don't understand what we are fighting about.
   - So you are not coming home, then?
   - Not now. I will come when I get time.
   - And until then you want me to sit here and wait for you, like an
obedient little pup? Forget it! Mystique cried.
   - Then don't. I ask nothing of you. You can do exactly what you
want.
   - You know what, *Magneto*? That was a really good idea! I am not
being appreciated here anyway! she said acidly.
   - Can we end this conversation now? I am pressed for time, for I am
going to a party, Erik said.
   - Party? Oh, really? said Mystique with a snort. And what kind of
party is that?
   - For Rogue. I promised her to come. She has gotten a new medicine
that has made it possible for her to touch people again.
   - How sweet! And you just *have* to go?
   - Yes, and I am looking forward to it. Now I have to stop. See you,
Raven, he finished coldly.
   - Yeah, see you! Soon! Mystique spat.
   Erik hung up. He sighed heavily and took his head in his hands.
Damn! Mystique's call had taken away all his good spirits. Now he
only felt angry, annoyed and frustrated. Not until he looked up
again, he noticed that Charles had come out of the bathroom, and was
looking at him from his wheelchair, still wearing a robe.
   - It was Mystique, Erik explained. She... eh... called, and wanted
me to come to her.
   - Are you going then? Charles asked.
   - Of course not! Erik exclaimed. Why would I? She can't just call
and expect me to be there at once. I want to stay here, with you, and
attend a party, and have a good time.
   - I heard you were upset. What was it about?
   - She managed to anger me. She can be a real bitch sometimes.
   - What did you tell her?
   - That she could do what she wants, for all I am concerned. I don't
care.
   - Oh. I see.
   Charles tried to sound unaffected, but Erik could tell that he was
only pretending. His eyes were sad despite that he tried to smile.
   - I am sorry she called, said Erik and looked at his cell phone.
She shouldn't call here.
   Charles shrugged. - She is entitled. This is the place where she
can reach you.
   - She only wants to destroy.
   - Erik, she is your ex mistress, Charles said. She has her reasons,
I suppose.
   Erik went to Charles, kneeled in front of him and took a hold of
his hands.
   - Darling, he said slowly, listen to me. There is only one man for
me, and that is you. It is you now, and it always has been. Raven
could never replace you. When I slept with her, I always thought of
you. Always. She means nothing to me. She mustn't get between us.
Ever. Do you hear me?
   - I know, Erik, Charles said softly and cupped the back of his
lover's head in his hand. I know. You don't have to explain to me. I
understand.
   Erik leaned out and kissed him.
   - Charles, I would like to make love, he whispered.
   - Erik... we are going to a party, remember that?
   - Yes, but after that.
   - Alright. I promise. But first we are going to the party.
   Erik nodded. - Yes, first we are going to the party, he agreed.
   - What do you say about the tuxedo?
   - It is tolerable.
   - Your bow tie is oblique, Charles said. Let me correct it.
   He did it, and it happened surprisingly quickly.
   - There you go, he said, smiling. Now you are handsome and ready
for the evening. Now I just have to find a tux for myself too, and
then we can go.
   Erik nodded, and had no idea that the innocent party would become
something like "Carrie's prom night" later during the evening.

Look for story information in part 1.

*m/f sex in this chapter*


Chapter 22

It was 5:50 P.M. and all the party arrangements were finally done.
Logan and Rogue had after a long day of hard work, gone to their room
to make themselves ready for the party.
   But Logan was certainly not going to dress up very much. He would
attend wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, as always. Although he was
going to shower and perhaps even comb his hair. This was a party,
after all, and he did not attend parties very often. One could make
some efforts at least.
   Rogue was in the shower at the moment. Logan could hear the
splashing of running water from the bathroom. He could still not
quite believe it was true.
   Rogue could start having a normal life again. Without gloves, and
without fear of accidentally killing someone only by brushing him or
her.
   She would have to take shots every morning and every evening, but
that was a small price to pay for the freedom it would give her. And
they could have sex.
   Suddenly Logan got an idea. Quickly he stripped, took a towel,
which he tied around his waist, and went toward the bathroom. Of
course the door wasn't locked. Logan pressed down the doorknob and
carefully opened the bathroom door.
   He could see Rogue's silhouette, like a shadow through the drapery,
and her sensual motions when she soaped and washed her body.
   The sight made Logan very aroused. He took off the towel, left it
on the toilet lid, and approached the shower stall.
   He pulled the drapery aside. - Hi, sweetie! Logan grinned. Can I
join you?
   Rogue was just washing loads of lather from her face, and could
therefore see nothing. The fear when she suddenly heard Logan's voice
next to her ear made her jump.
   - Logan! she exclaimed. You scared me! You can't do that!
   - I'm sorry if I frightened you, said Logan. Can I come in?
   He didn't wait for a reply. The sight of Rogue's naked, wet body;
her small, yet firm and conical breasts, flat belly, and round,
shapely buttocks had made Logan's arousal increase. At once he
received a rock-hard erection, pointing right into the air.
   - Alright, come on, then, she said, but then he had already stepped
into the shower stall, and stood underneath the hot jets of water.
   He came up behind her, and pulled her slender body into his
muscular arms. He inhaled the scent of her warm, newly washed skin,
and started kissing her neck and shoulders.
   Rogue immediately felt Logan's erection pressing against her
thighs, and realized how aroused he was. He was sucking her neck, and
his hands slowly passed over her body, squeezing her soft breasts,
then her belly, and finally his hand found her crotch.
   Logan caressed Rogue's nipples, and with his other hand he caressed
her sex; slowly his finger slid in between her labia, and quickly
found her clit, located just before her vaginal opening. He touched
the hard little nub, and heard her moan.
   Her cheeks flushed red and she threw her head back.
   - Oh, Logan... she breathed. Oh...oh...
   - You like this, sweetie? Logan growled, as his kisses and caressed
became more and more fervent. He took her earlobe between his lips
and gently nibbled it. Rogue bit her lower lip to hold back a drawn
out groan.
   Logan added another finger, and this time he let his two fingers
slide into her vagina, all the way to the knuckles. She was warm and
wet inside, and he longed terribly for the feeling of that tight heat
around his member, which was now as hard as it could possibly get.
   He had to have her. Now. At once. Otherwise he would explode.
   - Spread your legs, he breathed in her ear.
   Rogue did what he asked, since she was almost as excited as he was,
and desperately wanted to feel him inside her.
   - Logan... the party... she murmured and tried to think clearly,
although it was hard, with Logan's fingers doing such an amazing job
inside her, and his kisses, and...-
   - There is time, Logan murmured back. I need this now, and so do
you.
   He was right. She needed it. She was not going to stop him.
   Further encouragement was not needed. Logan pulled his fingers out
and instead brought the tip of his penis in between her thighs from
behind, and as soon as he had found the tight little slit, he pushed
in.
   He moaned, and Rogue gasped for breath. Starting slowly, he moved
in her, simultaneously caressing her breasts and her clit, and
kissing her where he could get his mouth.
   Rogue stood with her hands against the wall in the shower stall,
and screamed as the hot water washed over them both, and made them
remain wet. Logan's chest hairs tickled her back. It was a great
feeling she had missed during the past five months, when they
couldn't have any physical contact.
   In time his thrusts became more and more rough, and their pleasure
grew. If he could have had it his way, he would have slammed her
slender body against the wall, but of course he didn't, but realized
he had to be gentle and adjust to her.
   - Oh, God... oh, Marie... I'm coming! he panted. Oh...oh!
   Logan almost roared when he finally came and shot load after load
into her passage. He kept thrusting all the time while he ejaculated
in her, and his hold of her tightened spasmodically.
   Marie had reached orgasm twice. When Logan was finished, it felt
like her knees would buckle, and she would faint.
   Exhausted, and warm, she leaned against the cool tile wall, while
Logan leaned against her back, and the water washed away all the
traces of their lovemaking.
   Logan stayed in her for another while. He was still semi-hard. At
last he pulled out of her and turned her against him, so he could
look into her face.
   - Marie... he just said. I love you...
   - And I love you... she whispered.
   For a while they stayed in the shower, quiet, leaning against each
other. Then they stepped out, still a little shaky, and wiped
themselves and got dressed.
   Logan pulled on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. Rogue chose a
wonderful evening gown made of red velvet, which was tight around her
figure, with matching high-heeled shoes in the same colour.
   She looked marvellous. She put on some make up, (something she
usually didn't) and made herself an elegant, feminine hairstyle that
made her look older.
   When the time was five to seven in the evening, they left the room.
   The party was to start at seven sharp.

Disclaimer: Not even the idea is mine today, let alone the characters <g>.
The former belongs to Khaki, the latter to Marvel and Fox. I'm making no
money out of this fanfic.

Author's Notes: Written for the Remix Challenge, the rest of which may be
found at http://www.unfitforsociety.net/remix/index.htm. This is based on 'A
Life Found and Lost' by Khaki, which is up at
http://www.geocities.com/khakigrrl/foundlost.html.

PG for a bad word or two, I suppose.

Ibbur

By Andraste

Sometimes he thought that getting the walk right was the hardest part of
all. He was accustomed to a much longer stride, not to mention rather
different shoes. He could never decide whether the height these particular
boots gave him was worth the imbalance they created in posture. They made it
harder to move carefully across the icy lawn, and he paused to adjust his
body language as he grew closer to the house. It was unlikely that there
would be anybody about at this hour, only a short time before the midnight
curfew, or that anyone watching would notice the alteration. Yet the bare
trees made him feel more exposed than usual, even under cover of darkness.

Although the season had turned to winter, he still spent as much time as
possible away from the school. He didn't mind the cold, and today the walk
home had turned into a quiet stroll around the lake. It was reassuring that
the grounds, at least, were more or less as he had left them years before.
Their familiarity was a soothing contrast to the dramatic changes that had
taken place as the mansion itself was renovated to accommodate several dozen
teenagers and staff. When he wandered the grounds, he could sometimes
reflect that it was nice to be back. Still. Given a choice, he would have
preferred to spend the interminable wait in the other prison.

He could imagine the disadvantages, even though the news reports and Charles
had both been irritatingly vague about the conditions. Boredom, frustration,
the fear that his plan had failed altogether ... no, he could not feel too
much envy. The irony of envying a condemned criminal at all made him smile,
if only in private where nobody could see how wrong the expression looked.
He couldn't help but think, however, that life enshrouded in plastic at the
tender mercy of the US government must be less nerve-wracking than
pretending to be a seventeen-year-old girl.

It had become more difficult of late, new problems replacing the old. At
first, Marie's memories had been fresh and bright. It had been easy to cover
his own accent with hers, smile the correct charming smile, and maintain the
fiction that her psyche had survived the ordeal on Liberty Island intact. He
had been afraid, in the beginning, that the integrity of his own personality
would break down under the weight of her fragmented memories.

It was a far quieter battle than the initial struggle with the Wolverine,
who had leapt into the girl's mind moments after Erik had found himself
there. Logan had fought strongly at first, but once he realised that the
girl was - to all intents and purposes - dead, he had faded away to nothing.
The war with the tattered remains of Marie was fought by inches. In front of
the wardrobe and the bathroom mirror, and in his dreams at night.
Eventually, she had melted away like snow in the spring, leaving only
whispers behind.

It had been harder than Erik had anticipated to allow the last of her to
slide away - he had been reluctantly willing to let her die in his machine,
but once he knew her intimately he found himself clinging to the last shreds
of her  personality. He still found himself applying the shades of lip gloss
and eye shadow she had preferred, telling himself that they lent an air of
verisimilitude to his performance. If he was completely honest, he was sorry
Marie was gone. But if her martyrdom was rather different from the one he
had envisioned, it was no less necessary now. Her hopes, dreams and fears
were small, petty, personal. His own existence must take precedence, for he
had a duty to perform.

By the time he had settled into his new surroundings, however, he had lost
his first chance at freeing his alter ego. His best weapon - a living puppet
with bones of adamantium - had left the mansion. Eventually, he had decided
that his best course of action involved waiting for Logan to return. Charles
had always been the patient one, but Erik knew when to bide his time.

As the weeks went by, the indignities of living in this body had made a
fuller impact on his mind. It had rhythms and cadences that felt more alien
rather than less over time. More often than not he spent the moment between
sleep and true waking in a state of panic as he struggled to recall what had
happened. His own hands - not his hands - ambushed him at odd moments. In
defiance of his new form, he had altered his style of dress and bound the
girl's long hair back. His manner shifted, too, and he found himself
snapping at people when she would have laughed, smiling when she would have
frowned. Erik wondered more than ever how Raven managed to change her inner
self to match whatever surface she choose to wear.

Fortunately, nobody present was familiar enough with girl to spot the Trojan
horse. Only Charles knew *him* well enough to present any kind of risk. He
had thought long and hard about that, wondering if he needed to sabotage
Cerebro again, or find some other way of removing his old friend from the
game ... but Charles wasn't the only one with background knowledge. Erik
knew the right words, the right sideways glances, to crush any temptation
the telepath might have felt to probe his mind. If Charles looked at him
sadly from time to time, well, Charles was sad far more often than most
people realised. Trauma and restless memories gave him all the explanation
for Rogue's behaviour that he would ever look for. At first the sheer static
of Rogue's mind had protected him, and now he was careful to keep his mental
shields up at all times.

So he watched and waited, avoided the rest of the student body, and
practiced the use of his powers when he could. They were weaker than before,
but his new body was fit and healthy. Smaller and softer than his own had
been when he was in his prime, but with a strong heart and good lungs. There
were times when he almost literally turned cartwheels with the sheer joy of
being young again, even in this shell. It occurred to him that he would long
outlive the other Magneto, and occasionally he wondered if he needed him at
all. Perhaps it would be better to leave the other Erik in prison, to lull
the X-Men and the government into a false sense of security ... but his own
freedom was one sacrifice he would not make, and he could not take the risk
that someone would find a way to use him as a weapon. Besides which, his
copied powers lacked both range and depth. He had almost reached the front
door when he sensed Wolverine sitting on the recreation room couch.

For a moment, he froze. He had thought that he would be waiting - and
preparing - far longer than this. Nobody but Logan had been with Marie for
more than a day before she died, but although the wild mutant had hardly
known her longer, the pair had forged a strong connection. Before the man
left, the girl's personality had still been almost intact, but now ... He
would note the absence of her body language and mannerisms far more readily
than Xavier's staff and students. Part of Erik ached to remove the threat at
onc, instead of following his carefully constructed plan.

He steadied himself. He had the advantage here, having seen Logan's thoughts
when the man used his healing powers to save Marie. Erik was better at
manipulating metal than human emotion (another area where Charles had it
over him) but he had learned something from raising two daughters and a son.
If the worst did come to the worst, his powers would protect him.

He opened the front door, slipped inside quietly as he did every night at
about this time, and headed for the stairs. He left it for his opponent to
make the first move.

"Marie?" said the familiar voice from the recreation room doorway behind
him.

"Welcome back," Erik said dryly, half turning before moving toward the
stairs once more, at a faster pace. Logan, predictable to a fault, followed.

"Rogue? Wait, where are you ..."

"Your dog tags are up in my room. You said you would return for them, did
you not?" Damn. The voice was off - his nerves were getting to him - but the
expression on the Canadian's face suggested that he was too startled to
notice.

"They can wait," he said, crossing the corridor and placing a hand or
Erik's - Marie's - shoulder. He tried not to flinch away, although the size
and proximity of the man was ... disconcerting ... under the current
circumstances. "What's the matter?"

"What makes you think that something is wrong?"

"Where have you been all day? I've been waiting here for you since I got
back this afternoon, and nobody knew where you'd gone. And what the hell are
you wearing?" he added, taking in Erik's austere monochromatic attire.

"I was at the library." That was true - his worst enemy of late had been
sheer boredom. He couldn't write anything important down or sketch diagrams
for any new machines, and being subjected to an American high school
education at his stage in life was stultifying dull. All that was left was
catching up on his reading. As he'd already devoured everything in the
mansion's library years before, he was forced to go further afield.
"Improving my mind." He crushed the urge to smile. "I don't see how my
fashion sense is any of your business."

Logan frowned, and let the last remark pass. "You were at the library this
late?"

"No. I went for a walk after they closed for the evening." He reached for
Wanda's favourite 'I'm-too-old-for-you-to-give-me-a-curfew' tone, and it
seemed effective enough. The man didn't lack intelligence, but he really
could be unforgivably dense. Perhaps it went with the healing factor.

"Why not come inside?" His frown deepened. "Marie ... Xavier's worried about
you. He said that you hardly talk to anyone, haven't made any real friends
... I thought you were *happy* to be with people who understood. Don't you
like it here?"

"This coming from the man who left me here on my own. Don't *you* like it
here, Logan?"

The desired shock and hurt were easy to read in the man's eyes. "Xavier gave
me a lead on my past - you know why I had to go. Shit, Marie, you've seen
the inside of my head."

"I asked you to stay."

"I told you I'd be back."

The pout came surprisingly easily. "You didn't say when - I thought you'd be
gone a week, not two whole months." Now came the difficult part. He dropped
his eyes to the floor and lowered his voice. "I needed you."

"Needed me?" Logan moved the hand on his shoulder, draping an arm around
Erik and moving him toward the recreation room. "You know I'll always look
out for you, but there are people here who can do the same, if you let
them."

He shook his head. "No, I ... I needed *you*. Because of the voices." He
hoped that the tremulous tone didn't approach over-acting.

"Wha - you mean Magneto? David Cody? Or ... me?"

He nodded, biting his lower lip. One of Anya's favourite tricks when she was
trying to seem more pathetic and needy than she truly was.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I thought they'd go away, like David did. But you and Erik ... you're
stronger than that." Stronger than Logan could possibly guess. "Then you
left, and I didn't know where you'd gone ..."

It took all his restraint to avoid throwing the Wolverine across the room as
the arm across his shoulders squeezed tighter.

"Why haven't you told Xavier? Or Dr. Grey? They're the experts. I want to
help you, Marie, and I'll do anything, but I don't know if I *can* help." He
put a hand under Erik's chin.

"I'm scared they'll throw me out if they find out I still hear the voices.
Or  lock me up in the basement. Sometimes they do that, you know, to protect
the other students." That had the desired effect - Logan looked deeply
suspicious and shifted uneasily. "I don't trust them like I trust you.
Besides you *do* help." He paused. This was the delicate part of the
operation. If this didn't work, his task would become far more difficult.
"When you're close, he's quiet. The you in my head."

The other mutant's forehead wrinkled as he tried to wrap his mind around the
concept. "Why would that work?"

"I've been thinking about that a lot. I suppose that you're controlling him
somehow - who knows how my powers work?" Erik was relying on the element of
mystery inherent in many mutant abilities. Nobody knew how Rogue's
absorption functioned, and therefore nobody knew what to expect from her.

"So right now, I'm helping?"

"Oh, yes." He nodded decisively. "The Logan inside my head is quiet now." It
wasn't even a lie.

"What about Magneto?" Logan used his chosen name as if it was a curse word.

"He's much worse than you - you don't *want* to hurt me. He tells me to do
terrible things sometimes, and ... I don't know how long I can fight him."
Another pause, and now he met the Canadian's eyes willingly. "I want to go
visit him in prison."

"What?!" Logan's arm dropped from around Erik's shoulders, and he took a
step back. "No way, Marie, that's too damn dangerous. I'm not letting you
near that psychopath again"

"He's safely locked up - the professor goes to visit him all the time. If I
see him, maybe I could do something to make him leave me alone forever."

"You don't know that will help ... please, won't you let Xavier or Jean try?
I know they're good people, you can trust them."

He shook his head, and put on his best expression of resolve. "Will you just
let me try this first? If it doesn't do anything I promise I'll tell someone
else, now that you're here to protect me. And ... could you come with me and
wait outside? I asked the professor to take me, but he said no. I'm afraid
to go alone." Erik hadn't expected his first request to work - Charles was
far too cautious. Wolverine, on the other hand, would do anything his
precious ingénue asked of him ...

"OK, Marie." He reached out for a hug, and Erik, heart leaping triumphantly,
decided to allow it. "I'll take you. We'll go Monday."

Erik let himself smile.

"Thank you, Logan. You're always so much help to me."

The End

A/N: If you're puzzled and/or curiuos, try running the title through Google.

*****

I may not have a quote, but I do have a home page:

http://www.users.bigpond.com/storysmith/index.html

Or, to get my stories as soon as they come out, try the Southern Stars
mailing list, for the writings of a whole variety of Australian comic
fanficcers:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/southernstarsfic

Title: Past Forward
Author: Jamie (madjm@...)
Rating: PG-13 for some language, violence and adult situations.
Summary: Once upon a time there was a princess named Rogue ...
Category: Alternate universe, foofy fantasy adventure. Rogue. Jubilee. Jean.
(Rogue/Logan, Jean/Scott, Jubilee/?)
Disclaimer: "X-Men" is the property of Marvel and 20th Century Fox. I'm just
a geeky fan who likes to write. A few things were sort of inspired by
episodes of "Buffy The Vampire Slayer," which (surprise!) I also do not own.
Archive: Lists, The Nightowl. Otherwise, please ask.
Feedback: I'd love to know what you think.
Notes: This sucker is long and kind of strange. Thanks to Cheryl for the
great beta. HTML version and some additional parts are at
http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000/pastforward.html . The whole thing
will be posted in a day or two.



Prologue

21 years ago: Sidre

It was exactly like the dream.

Sidre Falon slid through A'Mirion, capital city of the kingdom of Sandoriel,
smoothly dodging clusters of celebrating men and women who stumbled through
the streets, singing, drinking and laughing. The scents of ale, pipe
tobacco, roasted lamb and chicken and sugary sweetcakes mingled with the
sweat of the revelers in the steamy heat of the night, turning her stomach.

Even so, her face placid, she continued toward the castle. The nearer she
got, of course, the worse the crowd became. It wasn't every day a princess
was born. In fact, the princess had been born a month before, but the royal
family still followed the tradition of celebrating a Naming Day instead of a
birthday. In the old ways, a family waited one month to see if The One would
judge them worthy to keep the child. Once the month was up, the child was
given a name.

Sidre nearly collided with a couple who stumbled to a halt in front of her.
The man lifted up a small boy and pointed at the sky. "Watch, Jeran!" he
said as the sky exploded into multicolored flame. The Fire Bringers were
busy tonight, illuminating the sky in honor of the latest royal birth.

It truly was beautiful, but Sidre had no time to stop and admire the show.
She had work to do this night. She stepped around the small family and
continued on her way.

She'd been 13 when she began to Dream. As usually is the case, she didn't
recognize her Gift at first. It was a small thing, then -- a dream about
Aunt Joi marrying the mayor. When, nearly two years later, the event came to
pass, she'd joked with her mother about trying to dream herself a husband.
Her mother had laughed and suggested a number of likely candidates, but she
began to quiz Sidre about her dreams after that.

Sidre knew she would have a Gift. It was always so, except for the
Outsiders, who lived in the Barenian territory. It was impolite to speculate
about Gifts until they appeared, but she'd privately hoped for her father's
ability to fly. She'd stopped short of asking The One in her prayers, but
she spent much of her childhood imagining what it would be like to soar
across the sky like a bird.

The last thing she imagined, the last thing she wanted, was to be a Dreamer.
Though the Gift was powerful, and often came with other, lesser Gifts, it
was rumored that Dreamers could never have children. They almost never
married, and they often went mad from the strain of their power.

Sidre pushed her way through a large crowd, wincing as a vulgar man took the
opportunity to pinch her bottom. Another night, she would have paused to
make him regret the action. Not tonight. She kept moving, tracing the path
she'd followed in a Dream almost 11 years before.

Though she was nearly 40 years old, Sidre appeared much younger. She was
tall and slim, her face only marked by faint lines at the corners of her
eyes. Her hair was still the thick, dark  brown that her Galdran had loved,
so many years ago.

She'd been 15 the first time she had Dreamed a death. Stubbornly, she
refused to tell her mother that she'd seen that the Widow Silas would soon
die of old age. She told herself it was only a normal dream, that her true
Gift would show itself soon. But when the old lady died in her sleep a week
later, Sidre knew she had to do something drastic.

That afternoon, when she went on her daily walk with Galdran, she carefully
considered what to do. Galdran was 18, strong and beautiful, with a wild
edge that set her stomach fluttering whenever she saw him. Just having his
hand closed around hers made her heart race. His mother was one of the
Untamed, who lived in the Forest of Marn. Few ventured out of the forest,
but Galdran's mother had fallen in love with a man from Sidre's village.

Despite the predatory gleam in his eyes when he looked at her sometimes, she
knew Galdran's honor would keep him from asking her father for a marriage
agreement before she turned 16, the customary age. But she was afraid she
didn't have that much time.

When they reached their place, a small clearing in the woods, he grinned and
pulled her into a kiss, and Sidre made her decision. This time he wouldn't
leave her breathless and trembling from kisses and touches. She wouldn't
allow it. Galdran's honor be damned, that day she was determined to become
his lover.

After, of course, he all but ran to her father to ask for a marriage
agreement. Her father suspected the truth, she knew from the disappointment
in his eyes. But he agreed to the match, and Sidre married Galdran the
following month.

They had been so happy, Sidre remembered, until the next Dream. She couldn't
hide what she was when she Dreamed her own husband's death.

Sidre sighed, shaking herself out of the memories. She didn't have time for
this. She darted down a side street next to the castle, moving quickly
between people. Briefly tangled in a web of scandalously drunk young girls
singing "The Maid from A'Fara," Sidre spied her cousin Lorin, standing next
to a small wooden door in the castle wall.

She broke free of the singing girls and headed for Lorin. Her cousin was a
cook in the castle, and she'd arranged months ago for him to meet her here.
Sidre couldn't quite stop a sigh of relief. Things usually went the way she
Dreamed them, good or ill, but if anyone could disrupt things, it would be
Lorin.

Tall and thin, with a shiny bald head, he leaned on the wall whistling
something she didn't quite catch and staring with rapt attention at the sky.
Streams of color painted the darkness, and the crowd gasped as one golden
light flamed into a sunburst, the sign of the new princess.

"Ahhhh," Lorin sighed dramatically, bringing a hand to his heart and gazing
at the lights, making a point of not looking in her direction as she slipped
in the door. A trifle overdone, she thought, but that was Lorin. She was
just lucky he'd actually remembered to meet her.

Sidre sped through the halls of the castle. She'd never been inside before,
but the Dream had shown her exactly where to go. The only people she met on
her way were servants. Her plain gray gown and a purposeful stride convinced
them she belonged precisely where she was, and woe to anyone who tried to
stop her.

What seemed like hours later, but was probably only a quarter-hour, she
arrived at the nursery. Praise be to The One, the hall was empty. Taking a
deep breath, she pushed the door open and strode inside. An older woman,
perhaps 60, stood at the window, fanning herself and watching the lights
flash across the sky. The nurse turned, startled, as Sidre entered.

"Who--"

"I am here to relieve you," Sidre said briskly.

The woman looked confused, then frowned. "Mistress Aron did not say anything
ab--"

"She rarely tells anyone anything," Sidre said, sighing. "She has other
plans for you. She is right outside, why not ask her to come in?"

The nurse, still frowning, turned for the door. She made it two steps before
Sidre crashed a vase on her head. Sidre swiftly examined the woman and, with
a grunt, dragged her to the rug in front of the empty fireplace. She would
be fine, but for a large headache, when she awoke.

  Rubbing her hands together nervously, Sidre moved to the bassinet in the
corner and looked gravely down at the princess. Her Highness Emmarie Rosa
Danis Maron, Daughter of the Sun, stared at her with serious brown eyes.
Tiny fists waved in the air, but the princess didn't make a sound.

"It is almost time," Sidre told her. "We only have to wait a while longer."

Despite her calm words to the infant, Sidre felt her heart racing. She knew
the sounds of revelers singing and dancing, laughing and celebrating in the
streets were covering up other sounds. More sinister sounds. She knew little
of what was to happen, but she knew before the night was over the king,
queen and their small son would be dead.

This night, she supposed, was the reason she'd been born. The princess must
survive, and it was Sidre's responsibility to make sure she did. But not
hers alone. There was another, and he should arrive at any moment.

At her very thought, the door to the nursery flew open.

He stood there, glaring at her, his sword clenched in his hand. Sidre forced
herself to swallow, her throat suddenly parched. Despite his military
bearing, it was obvious he was one of the Untamed. In his eyes she saw the
ferocity that often skimmed beneath the surface of his people, and she
prayed silently that the honor and duty that prompted him to wear the
uniform of the King's Guard would stay his sword until she could explain.
She had little time. *They* had little time.

"Captain Logan," she said smoothly, as though they were meeting at a social
event. "I have been waiting for you."


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue

1
Present: Jubilee

Something had to be done about Rogue, and obviously Jubilation Lee was the
only woman for the job.

Jubilee sighed and tossed aside the latest issue of Cosmo. She shifted on
the floor next to her bed, mentally weighing the pros and cons of drinking
another bottle of Jolt Cola. She absolutely had to stay awake, for Rogue's
sake, but it was getting harder to keep her eyes open every second. She
glared at the aforementioned girl, snug in her bed, snoozing the night away
while her roommate and best friend sat on the hard floor, debating whether
or not toothpicks could really be used to prop her eyes open.

Jubilee transferred her glare to the other bed in their room, empty of its
owner. Kitty Pryde, she knew, was probably in the throes of another
mind-blowing orgasm -- and who *knew* Bobby Drake had it in him? -- while
she watched over Rogue.

The three of them were among the few people left at the mansion. During the
summer, any of the students who had somewhere to go deserted the place as
soon as classes were over. Jubilee, Rogue and Kitty decided to spend their
summer break from college together. They spent their days looking after the
youngest kids in the mansion and their evenings planning a trip to the
Bahamas in a few weeks and making use of their newly-minted 21-year-old IDs.
Things had been going great, until Rogue began to wig out on them.

Three nights in a row her friend had been caught sleepwalking. In four years
of living together, she'd never known Rogue to sleepwalk, so the first night
had been kind of funny. Scott had led Rogue gently back into their room in
the dead of night without waking her, and the next day her roommates had
teased her unmercifully.

Jubilee frowned. The next night, Kitty had come back from a date with Bobby
and noticed Rogue missing. She'd shaken Jubilee awake, and they'd found
Rogue soundlessly wandering through the halls like a ghost, a slight frown
on her face. Her eyes were wide open, but she obviously wasn't seeing
anything. To say it was freaky was an understatement.

The night after that, Jubes had tried to stay awake and watch her roomie,
but she woke just after 1 a.m. to find Rogue gone again. Without bothering
to wake Kitty, Jubes had rushed downstairs, arriving just as Logan came
inside. Jubilee wrinkled her nose. He smelled like he'd taken a bath in
beer, but even the beer smell didn't cover up the sweat and cheap perfume.
Ugh. She barely had time to wonder what Rogue saw in him before she
remembered that her friend was heartbroken over the bastard's infamous
liplock with Jean Grey in the middle of the rec room.

Up until that point, it was generally accepted at the mansion that Rogue and
Logan were a couple, even if the two people involved weren't willing to
admit it. They spent much of their free time together, trained together,
went out together, ate together and bickered like an old married couple.
They shared laughs and tears, and neither one of them dated anyone else. The
only thing they weren't doing, as far as Jubilee knew, was having sex, and
she had figured it was only a matter of time before they crossed that line.
But that all changed after the Kiss Incident.

"Wolverine," she said coolly.

"Sparkle girl," he nodded. She knew very well he remembered her name, but he
always called her that. Kitty was "cat girl."

She started, in the interests of standing up for her friend, to blast him
for being out with some cheap skank when he could've had Rogue, when the
girl herself glided into the hall. One glance told Jubes that she was
sleepwalking again.

"Marie?" Logan looked surprised as she stopped in front of him. Jubilee was
surprised, too. Rogue had done everything short of joining the Witness
Protection Program to avoid him lately. With good reason, as far as she was
concerned. He knew damn well that Rogue had feelings for him, and his
indifference to those feelings was appalling.

Rogue tilted her head to one side and frowned. "It's getting late," she
said. "They're waiting."

"Who?" Logan grabbed Rogue's arm. "Who's waiting, Marie?"

Rogue jerked, and Jubilee could see her come awake and the confusion cloud
her face. The cold look she directed at Logan was, in Jubilee's opinion, a
fraction of what he deserved.

"Hey, chica," Jubilee jumped in, "I guess you decided you wanted some ice
cream, too?"

"Yeah," Rogue lied without a pause. Spending time with Jubilee had been good
for her in that respect. Jubilee was a master at prevarication. "Let's go."
Without another word to Logan, she'd headed for the kitchen. Logan was
staring after her, confused, and for half a second Jubilee felt sorry for
him. Until she remembered Rogue locking herself in the bathroom and crying
for hours. The dog deserved whatever he got.

But Jubilee couldn't forget the odd moment in the hall, and she'd spoken to
Rogue and Dr. Grey about running some tests to make sure there was nothing
physically wrong with her friend. Rogue flatly refused to see the doctor,
and Jean was hesitant to force anything on the younger woman. In a couple of
days, Professor Xavier would be back from his trip to Washington, D.C., and
Jubilee intended to have him check Rogue over whether she agreed to it or
not.

Until then, she was standing watch. Or, rather, sitting watch. On an
uncomfortable floor.

Jubilee reached for the alarm clock to bring it closer, noticing the way her
hand was shaking. More Jolt Cola was definitely a bad idea. She did,
however, have an extreme craving for the Frosted Cherry Pop Tarts she knew
were hidden behind some crackers in the pantry downstairs. Unless Bobby had
gotten into them. Ice Boy was toast if he'd touched her Pop Tarts.

Jubilee shot a glance at Rogue, who hadn't moved a muscle, and decided to
make a run for it. She slid on her bright purple bunny slippers and crept
out of the room.

She was gone for 10 minutes, tops, but when she returned, the room was
empty.

"That is cheating," she griped at the empty bed. "I was only gone for a
minute!"

Jubilee raced out of the room, heading for the hall, where Rogue generally
seemed to pop up on these nocturnal journeys of hers. It was empty and
silent. Thinking, she finished the rest of her Pop Tart while pacing around
the hall.

Finally shrugging, she wandered the first floor of the mansion, listening
for any unusual noises. Her uncharacteristic patience was rewarded when she
heard a slight scraping noise to her right. She ran down the empty hallway,
stumbling to a halt and nearly tripping over her bunny slippers. The door at
the end of the hallway was slightly open.

She'd never noticed that door before, and she didn't have any idea where it
led. She shook off an odd shiver of worry. Her bud was in there, doing God
knows what, and she needed backup, stat. Jubilee yanked the door open,
gaping at the stairs leading down, into a dark room. Pitch dark. No light
whatsoever. Really freaking inky black dark. Anything could be down there.
Waiting for a mostly-innocent 21-year-old girl to come down the stairs,
within arm's reach.

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts," she sang under her breath. For all she knew,
Rogue could have fallen down those stairs. She could be injured. Jubilee
took a deep breath and plunged down the stairs, the "Ghostbusters" theme
song running through her mind.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, Jubilee saw a large room, filled with
boxes. A hallway ran to her left; where it led, she couldn't tell. If there
was a light switch in the room, she didn't have enough light to see it.
Which was certainly an irony she planned to mention to Rogue when she found
her. Unfortunately, the girl was nowhere in sight. Which meant, Jubilee
thought, either she wasn't down here, or she'd gone down the
darker-than-dark hall.

"Girl," she muttered to her missing friend. "You owe me *so* big for this.
We're talking shopping-spree-at-the-mall, all-you-can-eat-chocolate-bonanza,
doing-my-laundry-for-the-rest-of-your-days debt here, babe."

Amazingly, Jubilee spotted a large, heavy flashlight on a stack of boxes.
She picked it up, flipped the switch. And figured God must appreciate her
altruistic activities, since the batteries were working, sending a nice,
cheerful, bright light throughout the room.

The light improved her mood immensely, and she headed without hesitation
down the hall. Several doors lined the hallway, but -- putting on her best
Nancy Drew face -- Jubilee followed the footprints in the dust on the floor.
This was apparently the one place in the mansion that the Prof didn't have
cleaned 24/7.

Rogue's footprints went into the third door on the right. The door itself
stood open. Jubilee sauntered into the room, prepared to dazzle her friend
with her deductive abilities. Instead she nearly gave herself a heart attack
as the beam of the flashlight reflected off something, momentarily blinding
her.

"Holy COW!" she yelped, jumping back, managing to drop the flashlight in the
process. As the room went black, she heard the flashlight rolling off
somewhere. Perfect. Perfectly-freaking-perfect. "Uh, Rogue?" she ventured.

There was no sound in the room. This room was the darkest place so far, and
her eyes weren't adjusting too well. All she could see was the big spot in
front of her eyes caused by the reflection. Jubilee gulped, feeling nervous
and a little ridiculous at the same time.

She started to speak again, when she suddenly began to make out a few
objects in the room. The growing light was subtle, so it took her a moment
to realize it wasn't simply her vision adjusting to the dark. As the room
lit up, she saw that the light was coming from a large standing mirror, as
big as the front door of the mansion, at least. The mirror itself wasn't the
source of the light, but its frame was glowing with a golden light.

Rogue stood in front of the mirror, perfectly still, one hand touching the
mirror's surface. Her black pajama pants and purple tank top had an orangey
tint in the light. Jubilee could tell by one glance that her friend wasn't
awake. Her face, reflected in the mirror, was completely blank, and her eyes
were open. Jubilee wasn't close enough to tell, but she'd have bet money the
eyes were  empty, too.

Now, she figured, would be a great time to wake Rogue up. They could haul
ass upstairs, and when the Prof got back in a few days, they could ask him
about his wonderful glowy mirror hidden downstairs. And, next time, she'd
find the freaking light switch first.

It was surprisingly difficult to force herself to step closer. "Rogue --"
she began, ending in a gasp as her roomie stepped into the mirror.

One moment she was there; the next moment she seemed to merge with her
mirror image and vanish.

"I will not pass out ... I will not pass out ... I will not pass out,"
Jubilee muttered. She absolutely hated those stupid heroines in books and
movies who freaked out at the slightest bit of weirdness or danger.
Jubilation Lee was an X-Woman. At least, she was an X-Woman in training. She
*lived* for danger, excitement, weirdness.

Swallowing hard, Jubilee stepped toward the mirror and slid one finger along
its surface, pushing through what felt like warm caramel. Gasping, she
yanked her hand back.

The glow around the mirror began to fade, and Jubilee acted before she could
talk herself out of it. She sent out a giant S.O.S. in her most screeching
mental voice "ROGUE WENT INTO MIRROR DOWNSTAIRS! I'M FOLLOWING!"

As the glow nearly sputtered out, Jubilee took a deep breath, like she was
going underwater, and jumped into the mirror.


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue


2
Logan

Logan was brooding, and he was doing a good job of it. In fact, he was
pretty sure there was no one on earth who could match him for brooding.

At least that's what Marie said. Used to say. When she was still speaking to
him.

He sat on his bed, gripping a bottle of beer and glaring at the door. His
thinking went in constant circles. He had to find a way to make her talk to
him, so he could explain. He should stay away from her; she deserved someone
better. And how dare she be mad at him anyway? She expected too much from
him. But what if he'd ruined any chance he'd had with her? He had to find a
way to make her talk to him, so he could explain. ...

And so it went.

It wasn't his fault to begin with. Well, hardly his fault.

He'd been flirting with Jean again. Mostly, he just did it to yank Scooter's
chain, and because she was a damn fine woman. He actually *liked* her, which
was more than he could say about most people. Plus, it was a lot easier than
dealing with his feelings toward Marie. He knew she had feelings for him --
he hated how his heart sped up at the thought that she might even love him
-- but he couldn't help but feel that he wasn't good enough for her. So he
kept things on a friendly level with Marie -- mostly -- and flirted with
Jean.

But since the mission to Donovan Laboratories, and her illness afterward,
Jean had been acting a little strange. Still, when he'd asked her when she
was going to leave Summers and have a taste of a *real* man, he hadn't
expected her response.

She kissed him.

Now, once upon a time, this would've been great. It's what he dreamed of.
Mostly. But it wasn't like he'd imagined at all. There was nothing in the
kiss. She might as well have been kissing a rock for all the passion she put
into it. And only he saw the tears in her eyes that she blinked back before
pulling away.

He wasn't all that surprised to see Scott standing behind them, but he was
jolted by the sight of Marie. She looked horrified, betrayed. Summers' face,
on the other hand, was completely blank before he turned and walked out of
the room without saying a word.

Marie shook her head and followed him, and that was the last he saw of her
for two days. The girl had an uncanny ability to avoid him, considering his
superior senses. And after that, the few times he managed to get her alone,
one of her little friends would just "happen" to show up, sending him a
scalding glare or making certain nasty comments under her breath. He
wondered if they knew he could hear every word. Nobody had ever actually
called him a "skank" before. At least, not that he could remember.

Jean had collapsed crying after the Kiss Incident, which is what the kids
were calling it, and he'd spent an hour and a half holding her and letting
her cry and talk everything out. Most of what she'd told him he couldn't
repeat. It wasn't for him to tell anyone. But he could let Marie know that
the kiss wasn't his idea and didn't mean anything.

He had to talk to her. Logan barely resisted the urge to throw the beer
bottle, instead dropping it on his nightstand and rolling off the bed to
pace the room. The only option open to him, really, was to grab her out of
her room. He'd make her talk to him. He'd explain everything. Though, on
second thought, maybe things were better this way.

Logan stumbled and fell to his knees as a blinding golden flash filled his
vision.

He began to remember.

For years, all he'd remembered were bits and pieces. Images. Faces.
Feelings. A bit of a song that made him feel ... something, and then he lost
it. It was like trying to hold water in his hands. Impressions were all he
got before the rest slipped through his fingers.

This was different. It was like a pipeline opened between the past and his
mind, and it rushed back in, filling up all the empty spaces in his brain.
His seventh Naming Day. The day Samuel fell through the ice of the river.
His mother. The first time he'd seen A'Mirion. Samuel's wedding. The
memories came, faster and faster, making him dizzy. Joining the King's
Guard. Kissing Minna. The day ... the time ... his first ... They flew by so
fast he couldn't grasp them all. It was too much. He saw Sidre. The cave.
His promise.

He saw the bright golden light again, just before he passed out.




Jean

"ROGUE WENT INTO MIRROR DOWNSTAIRS! I'M FOLLOWING!"

Breathing heavily, Jean sat up straight in bed.  She reached out for Scott
before remembering, glancing over and sighing at the empty place next to
her. She missed him. Though she knew it was for the best, she wanted nothing
more at that moment than to rush down the hall to his new room and climb in
bed with him. He would be warm and solid. Strong.

She needed him. Jean shook her head and pushed out of bed. It took her a
moment to get a handle on what was wrong. For once, it wasn't the nightmare
about suffocating at Donovan Labs. She almost thought she'd heard *Jubilee*
yelling at her about Rogue. She sighed and rubbed her throbbing temples.
Jubilee would be the death of her one of these days; she just knew it. As it
was, Jean blamed her increasing number of gray hairs almost entirely on the
girl.

Grumbling to herself, Jean slipped into a robe and padded barefoot down the
hall. The girls' room was at the other end. Surprisingly, even when they'd
graduated and started training  for the team, all three girls had wanted to
continue being roommates. Most of the others who stayed had their own rooms.

A good thing, too, she thought, speeding up as she passed Bobby's room.
Certain sounds coming from that room obviously required some privacy. She
wondered for a moment who was in there with him but quickly dismissed the
question. That was one good thing about Jubilee. Spend a few minutes with
her, and you'd know most of the good gossip in the mansion.

Jean frowned. Actually, the good gossip was probably at least a little bit
about herself and Logan. And Scott. Now *that* was something she really
didn't want to think about.

She was surprised to find the door to the girls' room wide open, and she
felt a tingle at the base of her neck when she saw the room was empty. That
strange feeling usually meant trouble. What had she heard Jubilee yell?  She
stood in the doorway, drumming her fingers on the doorframe and frowning.
Rogue. It was about Rogue.

That answered the question about where to go next.


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

You Can’t Hurt Me Anymore

By Nadja Lee        10/26/02

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.
Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.
Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.
Timeline: Set after the X-men movie.
Universe: Movie. ONLY movie! AU
Romance: Scott/Ororo, Scott/Jean implied.
Summary: Scott finds Ororo after she has made a fatal decision and he’s left to
wonder why.
Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.
Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee@...
Rating: R
Sequel/series: None

Warnings: mature themes; depression, suicide.

Author’s notes: Might be a bit dark…okay, I *know* it’s dark as I was depressed
when I wrote this…..

Thanks as always to Estelle for beta.

*                                          *
*

”Ororo?”

No answer. Strange, she was always on time. This was the first time that Scott
could remember that she had been late for anything; especially a training
session. It was Saturday and he hadn’t seen her all day. He understood she would
want some privacy but it was now almost one in the night…..Jean had reassured
him that she was in her room and was sure she just wanted some space but Scott
had still been uneasy about it and had wanted to check in on her on his way to
bed. Only she wasn’t answering. Concerned Scott placed a hand on the door handle
to her room and tried to open it; locked. He frowned in concern. He knocked
again.

“Ororo? Are you alright?”

Still no answer. This wasn’t like her. She was always on time, she was always
there…..this wasn’t like her at all.

“Okay; I’m coming in,” Scott said out loud, just in case she wanted privacy and
for some reason he couldn’t figure out had chosen not to answer him. He again
turned the door handle and again the door didn’t open. Suddenly he recalled
Sabretooth’s fascination with Ororo and Scott’s uneasiness grew. He let go of
the door handle, took a step back and kicked the door in. It swung open and
Scott walked into the room, one hand to his glasses, ready for an attack.

He had only been in Ororo’s room a few times yet the grace and beauty of it with
an African air to it had always fascinated him. Today however what concerned him
was the open doors to her balcony, the dark room with no lights burning and the
broken mirror laying on the floor, pieces of it shattered all over the floor
like deadly snow.

“Ororo?” he called softly, trying to conceal his concern. He saw the door to her
bathroom was open and he carefully walked towards it, something in him warning
him that there was something inside he didn’t want to find…didn’t want to know.
As he was closer to the door he saw a set of small dedicate brown feet laying on
the floor; Ororo!

*Jean! Something is wrong with Ororo. Come quickly! * Scott called
telepathically. He didn’t wait for her reply but closed their bond as soon as he
was sure she had gotten his message. He needed his entire concentration for what
was to come.

His heart in his throat he walked closer and entered the room. The small light
above the sink was lit but that was all…..it was enough. He saw her lying on the
floor, her long white hair like a halo around her head as she lay still on the
floor. Her eyes were closed but an almost peaceful expression was on her face.

“Ororo!” Scott yelled panicked and quickly knelt beside her and began searching
her for injuries. There was blood as red as wine around her, coming from her
right wrist. The cut was alarmingly straight…it didn’t look like a wound
received in battle. He quickly tore a piece of his shirt and band it as tight as
he could around the wound, hoping it’ll stop some of the bleeding until he could
get help. He searched for more wounds and lying in her thin long white
nightdress with bare arms it wasn’t too hard to do. Her dress had curled up to
show her thighs he gashed in surprise. There were wounds on her thighs and the
inside of her upper arms…old scars…. carefully cut…almost craved. He looked
around and found a bloodied piece of glass beside where Ororo’s right hand had
laid.

“Oh, God…Ororo,” he whispered horrified, tears coming to his eyes as he gathered
her close and held her in his arms. He tried to control his sorrow and fought
the tears as he held her a little away from him and began shaking her to try and
wake her up.

“Ororo! Ororo, wake up…please, wake up,” he shook her again, her head rolling
back and forth. “Wake up!”

Her eyelids moved and she blinked. Her peaceful expression disappeared and pain
took its place.

“Scott?” she asked weakly, her voice hoarse, pained and low.

“Yes. Yes, it’s me,” his voice sounded strange even to him. He had trouble
speaking for the lump in his throat.

“I hoped…I…would see you…. one last time,” she got out, forcing a weak smile.
Scott was going out of his mind from worry; where were the others? What should
he do? What could he do? Not sure what to do he simply held her close and put
some loose hair away from her face. He tried to smile for her but it turned into
a grimace. His mind was in turmoil; he didn’t know what to do or think.
Everything was turning in his head; nothing made sense anymore.

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine,” Scott assured, praying fanatically that
he was right.

“You…were always a poor liar,” she got out, grimacing in pain. He tried to smile
but the smile froze on his lips. Suddenly everything came crashing down on him
and he tried all he could to hold it all inside.

“Why? Why?” he whispered softly, his voice agonized, his mind tormented and his
cheeks wet from tears. She had no strength to lift her hand but she made a
motion as if she wanted to wipe his tears away.

“No words can describe the pain I’ve felt within,” her voice was fading now,
growing weaker.

He did not understand; she had always seemed so controlled. What had gone wrong?
Why hadn’t he noticed she was unhappy? Why? She had always been there, ever
silent, ever present. Never drawing attention to herself, never doing anything
that made others notice her………God! He had failed her….he hadn’t looked beneath
the surface; he hadn’t been thinking. He hadn’t…he should have…he should have…

“If only…” he whispered softly, taking her left hand to his cheek before he
softly kissed it.

“Don’t…don’t say ‘I love you’,” she asked weakly, fighting to get the words out
as tears ran from her eyes. “Don’t. Not now.”

There was such agony in her voice…such longing. A sudden realization hit him.

“You love me?!” he got out, surprise, shock, happiness, sorrow and a mix of
other feelings running through him.

A ghost of a smile played over her lips.

“I always did…you just never seemed to notice me,” she said softly.

“Oh, God,” he mumbled. How could he have been so blind? All her kindness, all
the times she had been there for him…and where had he been? Where had he gone
after she had helped him? To Jean…always Jean. Why hadn’t he thought of this?
Why?

“Don’t cry for me… You’ll hardly know I’m gone….you hardly knew I was here to
begin with,” her voice was sad and pained with a hint of sarcasm and
loss….strong loss and despair. He didn’t know what to say because…she was right.
He had taken her for granted. He had assumed she was always strong, that she was
always there and that she could handle anything…..he had assumed she would
always be there to help…but never had she needed help herself.

“I’m so sorry,” he got out, tears blurring his vision, his cheeks were hot and
red. He pulled her closer and stroked her hair.

“Don’t be….You can’t hurt me anymore….no one can,” she whispered weakly, her
eyes beginning to fall shut. Panic rose in him.

“Don’t leave me!”

She smiled weakly to him as her eyes closed completely.

  “I’m finally free,” she whispered as her last breath was torn from her lips.

“NOOO!” Scott yelled in agony and held her closer to him, burying his head by
her neck. Oh, God…why? Why?

Suddenly there was a lot of people in the room but his mind was frozen in time,
his eyes stiffened and the only sound he heard was her words….

“You can’t hurt me anymore.”

What had he done? What had he done? Why hadn’t he seen the signs? Why? Why
hadn’t he understood the Hell her mind had been in? Why had he somehow assumed
she was strong enough? Why had he thought that only the body could be in Hell
and that keeping her safe from villains would be enough; would keep her well?

He should have known…he should have done something…..he looked down at his hands
and saw that they were covered in blood as was his shirt…..her blood.

In that moment he understood what she had meant by the pain within because his
mind was in agony as it felt like it was being torn apart; a confusing mass
without beginning or end. Suddenly the world seemed so dark, suddenly everything
seemed impossible….he felt so tired and drained….

“You can’t hurt me anymore.”

Her words kept ringing in his ears, he kept seeing her bloodied body laying on
the floor…kept seeing the pure agony written on her face…..what she must have
gone through….such pain….a pain she had carried inside herself…..a pain he
hadn’t seen…..a pain he hadn’t understood.

He walked out of Ororo’s room as in trance, his mind somewhere else….his mind in
torment yet no one could see it….no one would know.

He began to see that the greatest pain could be the pain inside himself.

You can’t hurt me anymore…..

She might have found freedom at last….but she had left him in Hell….a Hell he
might first find escape from…in death as she had.



The End

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue
Note: I'm numerically challenged, and I just realized there are actually 15
parts (plus prologue and epilogue), which only confirms what I suspected:
This is a long-ass story! :-)


3
Rogue

She woke to cold feet on a rough stone surface.

Rogue opened her eyes, taking in the dim surroundings. She rubbed a hand
over her eyes, but it still looked as though she was in a cave of some kind.
To her right was inky blackness, but there was enough light coming from the
mouth of the cave for her to see.

She felt cold, and slightly sick to her stomach. Leaning over, hands on her
thighs, she took a few deep breaths and wondered how on earth she'd managed
to get here.

It must have been the sleepwalking again. She supposed that as soon as the
Professor got back, she was going to have to talk to him about it.

But that was later in the week. Now the problem was how to find her way back
to the mansion. Her bare feet weren't sore at all, just cold, so she doubted
she'd come far through the woods. But in which direction?

There was a slight sound from behind her, like the muffled sound of a
zipper, and someone -- something? -- crashed into her from behind, throwing
her to the ground. Tears bloomed in her eyes as one knee banged against the
stone floor and her palms scraped the rock.

Automatically, Rogue rolled to her feet, slipping into a fighting stance.

Staring up at her from the ground was Jubilee, eyes wide.

Rogue relaxed, unclenching her fists and dropping her arms to her sides,
rubbing the sore palms against her pants. "What'd you do that for?"

"What?" Jubilee just sat there, looking stunned.

"You knocked me down," Rogue complained, wincing at the pain in her knee.

"I -- um. The mirror."

"Well, that clears it right up," Rogue snapped. "What the hell are we doing
here?"

Jubilee got to her feet slowly. She, Rogue noted sourly, didn't appear to be
injured. Apparently Rogue had broken her fall. Though she did look a little
odd.

"I'm going to -- ugh," Jubes croaked, rushing into the dark part of the cave
before emptying her stomach.

Rogue sighed and rubbed at her knee. Maybe she'd hit her head when she fell.
There was something going on, and Jubilee appeared as confused as she was.
Was there such a thing as group sleepwalking?

"Jubes?" Rogue walked in the general direction of her friend's groaning.
"You OK? I'm sorry I snapped at you."

She could barely make out Jubilee in the dark. She seemed to be kneeling on
the ground, head down. "Hon," Rogue reached out, stopping short of touching
her friend. Her gloves. She'd wandered off without them. If this kept up,
she was going to have to start sleeping in the damn things.

"I'm OK," Jubilee said, lifting her head. "Could really use a breath mint
about now, though."

Rogue shrugged. "I'm fresh out."

Jubilee got to her feet, and they headed toward the entrance of the cave.
"Where are we?"

Rogue stopped. "I thought you knew. Wasn't I sleepwalking?"

"Uh, yeah, and then you pulled an Alice in Wonderland on me," Jubilee
cracked, her voice stronger.

"Pardon?"

"I was following you," Jubilee said, shrugging. "You went downstairs, into
the basement."

"I used the elevator in my sleep?" Rogue rubbed at her head again. She must
have brain damage or something.

"No," Jubes said impatiently. "The basement-basement. It must be next to the
secret X-men level or something. I didn't know it was there. It's for
storage, I guess."

Rogue looked around the cave. Obviously she was missing something. "And it
connects to this cave?"

Jubilee sighed. "No, babe, you're not listening to me. There was a huge-ass
mirror down there, and you ... we went through it."

"We ... went through ... a mirror." Ah. Alice in Wonderland. Contrary to
popular opinion, Jubilee almost always made sense. Sometimes that sense just
took a little while to reveal itself. Still  ... "A mirror? Jubes, I don't
mean to be rude, but are you on drugs or something?"

"Hey, you're the one who started this whole thing," Jubilee said
indignantly. "I'm just trying to look out for you, and you're going through
freaking *mirrors*, and it feels like thick, warm ... something. Ugh.  I
will never get over how creepy that was. You don't remember any of this?"

"Maybe we'd better get back home," Rogue said slowly. Someone was crazy
here, she just wasn't sure which one of them needed the straitjacket and
padded room.

"Sure," Jubes said. "How?"

"Well," Rogue pointed toward the entrance. "Maybe we'll see our path and be
able to re-trace it."

"Our path wasn't that way," Jubes said, pointing to the spot where Rogue had
woken. "We came from there. I came from *behind* you, remember?"

"Well ..." Rogue frowned, walking to the side of the cave. There was an odd
look to part of the stone. It was a rectangle-shaped section, in a slightly
darker color. There were odd symbols carved along the edge of the section.
Cautiously, she ran her fingertips along the stone.

Instantly, the symbols began to glow, and the stone changed consistency. It
felt like it was melting at her touch. Startled, she yanked her hand back.

"What the hell is going on?"

To her credit, the words "I told you so" didn't pass Jubilee's lips. "I wish
I knew. I mean, I'm up for adventure and everything, but this is a little
different than sneaking out of the mansion to go to a rave, you know? We'd
better get back."

Rogue shot a glance at the cave entrance again. Who knew what they would
find out there? She had the strongest feeling of deja vu, and an odd
tickling at the back of her mind. She almost knew why she had come here, but
the reason slipped away from her before she could get hold of it. Maybe if
she just took a quick peek outside, then returned to the mansion to get
help. Logan would ...

Logan would probably be with Jean. Damn it. Damn him. She could investigate
this on her own. She couldn't depend on Logan to do everything ... anything
for her anymore.

"I'm checking it out," she told Jubilee. "I want to know why I came here.
But you should go back home."

"I'm not leaving you," Jubilee said, jamming her hands on her hips. "And I'm
not going back through that thing by myself."

"But you're sick --"

"I'm not sick," she argued. "I think that trip through the looking glass
disagreed with me."

"OK," Rogue nodded. Maybe it was selfish, but she really didn't want to go
by herself anyway.

They crept toward the entrance, neither sure why they were trying to be
quiet. They'd been talking in normal tones all along; if anyone was outside
it was probably obvious by now that someone was in the cave.

The light was bright compared to the dim interior of the cave, but Rogue
noticed it was cloudy outside. And cold. Wherever they were, it sure didn't
feel like summer. She shivered and ran her hands up her arms. Poor Jubilee
was wearing shorts, but she didn't seem to notice the cold.

While Rogue hung back at the cave entrance, Jubilee wandered out into the
clearing in front of them. The remains of a fire in the middle of the
clearing and the condition of the ground indicated that someone had been
camping there, but Rogue couldn't tell how long ago.

  Strangely reluctant, she followed Jubilee outside, heading for the burned
logs. She kneeled down in front of them, placing her hand a few inches away
from the pile. She could still feel their warmth.

"This fire hasn't been out for long," she said quietly.

"Um, Rogue?"

Rogue got to her feet and turned, shifting into fighting stance again as she
saw the stranger holding a long knife on Jubilee.

It was a girl in her late teens or early twenties, wearing a plain brown
dress over her slim frame, with some kind of purse or bag slung over her
shoulder. A belt held a sheath for her knife, and another knife was sheathed
on the opposite hip. Her long blond hair was twisted into dozens of small
braids, and her eyes darted between Jubilee and Rogue. Rogue thought she
would be  pretty, but at the moment she was scowling. Not an attractive look
for her, Rogue thought critically.

"Step back," the girl said evenly, pointing the knife at Jubilee. Rogue
noted that she seemed quite comfortable holding the knife. "Stand by your
friend."

Rogue noted Blondie's eyes dart from side to side, clearly looking for
someone. She watched as Jubilee backed toward her. She knew she could take
the blonde, no problem, but she wasn't sure who else was around. Still, it
was better to take out one of them if she could.

"Do not try anything," Blondie said sharply, drawing her second knife. "You
would be dead before you took a step."

Rogue exchanged a look with Jubilee.

"Settle down, Barbie," Jubilee said. "If you make me nervous you might be
swallowing sparks here in a minute."

A brief look of confusion crossed the blonde's face before it hardened
again. "I will have your names," she said. Rogue couldn't quite identify her
accent.

Her mind was turning over various escape methods, but she answered calmly.
"I'm Rogue."

"Rogue." Blondie nodded and turned to Jubilee. "Name."

A woman of few words, Rogue thought. She should meet Logan. But he didn't
seem that interested in blondes. Redheads were more his speed. She sighed.
Even under knifepoint she couldn't stop thinking about the man. She needed
therapy or something.

"Xena," Jubilee said. "Warrior Princess."

Rogue swallowed a laugh as Blondie looked Jubilee up and down, from her dark
hair, over her Tweety Bird T-shirt and plaid boxer shorts, finally settling
for a moment on the purple bunny slippers. "You do not look like a warrior
to me," she said arrogantly.

"Looks can be deceiving," Jubilee said. "For example, you look pretty tough,
but I don't think you can stop us from taking those knives away from you."

A grin crept across the blonde's face.  Rogue felt a tug of familiarity.
This girl reminded her of someone she knew, but who?

"Would you like to try? I have not had a good fight in days."

Rogue was tempted. The blonde obviously needed a good ass-kicking to give
her some perspective. But maybe it would be better, after all, to get some
of the other X-Men before exploring this place.

"We'd love to," Rogue said breezily. "But we really need to get going." She
and Jubilee began to back toward the cave.

"Perhaps I could not get you with the knives," the blonde said calmly. "But
certainly my friend with the bow will kill you instead."

Spinning around, Rogue saw a second woman behind them. And she didn't look
happy at all to see them.

"Celeste, what are you doing?"

The tall, wiry young woman was glaring at Blondie, Celeste, apparently. She
did have a bow, with an arrow loosely held in one hand and a quiver tied
behind her like Robin Hood. In fact, she looked like she could be one of his
merry men in her dark green pants and tunic. Short brown hair was cut pixie
style, and the brown eyes were snapping at the moment.

"They came from the cave," Celeste said. Her sulky tone told Rogue she knew
she'd done something wrong, but she probably would never admit it.

The second woman's eyes widened as she took in their appearance. Obviously,
their pajamas weren't quite appropriate. Not to mention that they weren't
warm enough. It couldn't be warmer than 45 degrees.

"You are freezing," the brunette said, compassion warming her face. Shooting
another glare at Celeste, she disappeared through the trees and returned a
moment later carrying two dark gray woolen cloaks. "Take them, please," she
said, pushing them into their arms.

One bare hand came close to Rogue's skin, and Rogue jumped back.

The brunette had her bow drawn in an instant, eyes searching the clearing
for a threat of some kind.

"You can't touch my skin," Rogue explained hurriedly. She didn't like to
explain about her mutation, especially when she wasn't quite sure what was
going on. But she didn't want to take any chances of the nice one getting
hurt. She didn't trust that Celeste person at all. "It ... will hurt you.
Nobody can touch me."

The brunette looked confused. "This is your Gift?"

"My ... gift?" Rogue and Jubilee exchanged a glance. "Well, I guess you
could say that."

Celeste had moved to stand next to them. Rogue was relieved to see she'd
sheathed both knives. "You cannot control your Gift?" Celeste asked,
obviously disbelieving. Before Rogue could stop her, Celeste reached out and
grabbed her arm.

The usual tingle of her skin began, eagerly reaching for energy to absorb,
but it was as though something was blocking her power. Nothing happened.

Celeste let go of  Rogue's arm. "She cannot control it," she laughed
mockingly. "She knows nothing."

The brunette sent a warning frown Celeste's way and carefully draped the
cloak over Rogue's shoulders. "It will be fine," she said reassuringly.
"Sidre will help you."

"She is too old to learn," Celeste objected.

"Sidre will help her," the brunette said confidently. She turned to Rogue
and Jubilee. "I am Risa. The charming one is Celeste. We have been waiting
for you for five days."

"We were about to leave," Celeste said.

Risa rolled her eyes. "One of us was. Then she was going to wish she had
never been born, when she returned home without what she came for."

"What --" Rogue cleared her throat. She was still reeling from the fact that
Celeste had touched her. She seemed to know more about Rogue's power than
Rogue did herself. "What did you come for?"

Risa glanced at Celeste before answering. "I believe we came for you."


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

Title: Time (Clock of the Heart)
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: "There's no present like the time."
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool.
Feedback: Is a gift I gladly accept.
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. And to Devil Doll for
nudging me out of seriousness when the story took an odd turn. Summary
comes from, er, I think it's Citizen that uses that slogan in their ads,
and the title from my favorite Culture Club song.
Dedication: For Devil Doll, and her watch and buckle obsession.
Begun: August 12, 2002
Finished: April 23, 2003

~*~

Time (Clock of the Heart)

Rogue came down to breakfast one morning, and Logan was there.

She hadn't seen him in almost a year, though they'd spoken on the phone
a few times, and he looked exactly the same. She didn't know why she'd
expected anything different, but she had. Maybe because she felt so
different herself. Having him and Erik in her head had aged her quickly,
and she sometimes couldn't remember if she was eighteen, sixty, or a
hundred and twelve, depending on whose nightmares and memories had kept
her up the night before.

But last night, it had been a different sort of dream that woke her, one
in which she and Logan had been entangled on the grass, skin-to-skin.
She'd woken with her heart racing and her body aching for satisfaction.

Seeing him in the dining room made her heart race again, and her palms
sweat. She was glad for once of the gloves that covered her hands,
though he'd probably be able to spot her reaction, regardless.

He was sitting in her usual spot in the back corner of the dining room,
away from the crowd of teenagers who acted as if their express purpose
in life was being as loud as possible.

She was not a morning person, and talking to her before her first cup of
coffee was often a dangerous enterprise. The bad nights and nightmares
had just added to that tendency. And not even the thrill of seeing him
again could quite overpower her distaste for being up before eight a.m.

She spared a stray curse for Scott, who had them on a ridiculous
training regimen, even though it was summer.

Logan didn't rise when she approached, though she knew he knew she was
there.

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. It was a
posture she'd adopted from him, and when he turned to look, she could
tell he recognized it.

"Hey," he said.

"You're in my seat."

"I know."

Which sent blood rushing to her cheeks. Because that meant he'd sniffed
her out, and well, there were all sorts of interesting ideas suddenly
tumbling through her head like dice on a craps table.

She needed to sit.

It was too early in the morning for those kinds of thoughts, though the
version of Logan in her head disagreed, flooding her mind with memories
of all kinds of early morning behavior that was inappropriate in public.

"We could share," he offered.

"Uh--" He grinned at her obvious discomfort and she felt the need to
wipe that smile off his face. "Okay."

And slid into his lap.

She smirked at the startled look in his eyes, but he wasn't disconcerted
for long. He slipped an arm around her waist and leaned in to sniff at
her hair.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, voice pitched low.

She shivered at the feel of his breath on her ear, only partly from fear
at the danger to him. With his other hand, he traced the chain of his
dog tag, still hanging around her neck. She'd put it there in the
moments after he'd left, and hadn't taken it off since.

"A little," she said, breathless.

"Just a little?" There was a hint of teasing in his tone she thought she
could get used to.

"Well, in some ways it's like you've been here all along." She tapped
the side of her head, and he frowned. She could feel him withdraw, even
though neither of them moved. "It's not a bad thing," she continued. "I
mean, you know, in the grand scheme of things, being alive with you in
my head is a hell of a lot better than being dead."

He snorted. "That's comforting."

She bit her lip, then, "It is."

He opened his mouth, and she held her breath, hoping she'd conveyed the
truth -- that she really was okay with him in her head, that he had
helped more than hurt her, but he said, "Jean."

And there Jean was, resplendent in red silk and black linen.

"Welcome back, Logan," Jean said, smiling.

"Good to be back," he answered.

"I can tell."

His hand tightened on Rogue's hip, and she squirmed, causing him to
inhale sharply. She bit her lip again, as she felt him tense.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you look happy to be back."

They stared at each other for a moment. It wasn't flirtatious. Rogue
could tell from the set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes
that he was angry.

Jean looked away first, but Logan didn't relax.

"And we're happy to have you back," Rogue said, snaking a hand around
Logan's neck and stroking the hair that curled over his collar.

He swallowed hard, and Rogue felt a little thrill that she could affect
him.

"Speak for yourself, Rogue," Scott said, joining them. "Is my bike still
in one piece, Logan?"

Logan laughed, and she was silently thankful for Scott's interference.
She didn't quite understand what had just happened, but she'd get to the
bottom of it when they were alone.

"She's in the garage, Cyke."

"Come on, Jean." And Scott hurried away, dragging Jean with him, to see
what condition his bike was in.

Logan squeezed Rogue's hip again, and then smacked it. "Why don't you go
get me some coffee?"

"Why don't you go get *me* some coffee?" she said.

"You're on top. No need for both of us to get up."

She held his gaze for a moment and she realized he was trying not to
laugh, which made it hard for her to stay angry at his demand.

"I like it on top," she replied, holding his gaze before she slid off
his lap to her feet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, and she laughed as she walked
away, exaggerating slightly the sway of her hips, knowing he watched.

***

After breakfast, she took him up to the room he'd stayed in when they'd
first come to the mansion.

"I made sure nobody else took it," she said.

He nodded, nostrils flared. She shifted from foot to foot. She'd spent
the better part of the last year sleeping in this room, because her
nightmares made her a lousy roommate, and she knew he could smell her.

"It's your room now, eh?"

She shrugged a shoulder, which made the dog tag visible in the valley
between her breasts. She recalled the warmth of his bare finger tracing
the chain earlier, as close to her skin as anyone had come since he'd
gone, and grasped the tag.

She held it out to him, still on the chain around her neck. "Do you want
this back?"

He walked over to her and stood near enough that she could feel the heat
radiating off his body. Again, her heart and her breathing sped up. He
took the tag between his forefinger and his thumb, rubbing at the
engraving of his name.

"Looks better on you," he said, once again running his finger along the
chain. His hand hovered mere millimeters from her cheek. She held her
breath; fear and longing kept her still.

His eyes darkened, focusing on her lips, which tingled as if he'd
touched them. She inhaled sharply; he dropped his hand and turned away,
the moment broken.

He unzipped his bag and pulled clothes out of it.

"I guess you need to do laundry," she said, after the silence stretched
so long it seemed as though he'd forgotten she was there.

"Yeah."

"I can show you where the laundry room is--"

"Maybe later."

"Oh. Okay."

"Don't you have class now?"

She blinked. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that she'd
graduated high school a month ago, and that the only reason she was up
so early was that Scott had insisted on double training sessions for all
the "new recruits." Otherwise, she'd have slept until noon. But she knew
when she wasn't wanted, so she said, "Yeah. I'll see you later."

He didn't even turn to watch her go. "Sure, kid."

***

Logan collapsed onto the bed in relief.

While he'd been away, he'd managed to forget how young she was. Even
their occasional phone calls hadn't been enough to stave off the fevered
fantasies of her that he'd concocted to pass long, cold, lonely nights
camping out in the wilds of northern Canada.

Reality hit him hard upon seeing her.

She was beautiful, but she was young -- too young for the likes of him,
even if he was only as old as he looked.

Add onto that his lack of a past, and his fucked-up present, and he knew
that not only was he too old for Marie, he was no good for her.

He buried his face in the pillow, inhaling her scent -- Marie, youth,
and jasmine. God, he couldn't live like this. He knew he was going to
fuck it up, make her hate him, and he didn't want that.

She'd flirted with him all too easily in the dining room, and up until
Jean showed up, he'd forgotten that it wasn't all right. It had felt
good -- *natural* -- to have her in his arms, until Jean's remarks
reminded him that it wasn't. It couldn't be.

He tortured himself by sleeping on the bed without changing the sheets
that first night, but his dreams of her were so vivid that he almost
wished he'd had nightmares instead.

After that, he stripped the bed and tried to air the room out.

He knew she knew what he was doing, and that it was hurting her, but he
couldn't help it. He couldn't live like that.

He spent the next few days avoiding her, and was successful for the most
part. He had meetings with Xavier to take up a good deal of his time,
and since Scott had shown him the Danger Room, he'd spent hours in
there, taking out his frustrations on simulacra.

When he wasn't in the Danger Room, he was out in the woods surrounding
the mansion. While the kids liked to tell tales of bears and other
dangerous predators, he knew the biggest animals this close to
civilization were deer. They knew what he was, and kept away.

He was lying on his back in the woods, trying to forget the hurt looks
Rogue had been throwing his way the past two days, when he caught her
scent. He could hide from her without difficulty, but the idea of being
chased off his own turf by a slip of a girl with sad eyes and a bright
smile stung his pride.

He tracked her progress easily, and sat up when she finally arrived,
leaning back against the trunk of an old maple tree. She nearly tripped
over his booted feet, so he drew his legs up and rested his elbows on
his knees.

"You sound like a herd of elephants, tramping around like that," he
said.

"I didn't want to startle you," she replied, her chin lifting.

He raised an eyebrow. "Darlin', I could smell you from a mile away.
You'll never be able to startle me."

Her mouth opened in a silent 'oh' and she blushed.

He let the silence stretch, knowing she'd break it eventually.

She slipped to the ground next to him and met his eyes. "I know you've
been avoiding me," she said finally. "But I don't know why."

He dropped his gaze. "Been busy," he mumbled, feeling guilty.

"Please don't lie to me. I won't ask you for anything else, but please,
never lie to me."

He looked up to see her eyes darken with pain and her forehead crease
with worry.

"Sorry, kid." He stretched his legs out again and hunched a shoulder.
"I'm just not used to living with so many people."

She nodded, an expectant look on her face. "And?"

"And what?"

"And-- that's it?"

"Yeah. That's it. I'm just getting used to all these kids and stuff."

She gnawed at her lower lip for a moment, not content with that answer.
"Is it me? Did I do something?"

He winced at the worry in her voice. "Nah, kid. It's just -- it's me."

"We're friends, right?"

He ran a finger down the white streak on the right side of her face,
hating that he had made her doubt even that. It was easier to convey his
feelings with a touch than in words. "Yeah."

'And that's all,' he told himself firmly.

She rose up on her knees and pulled something out of her pocket.

"Here," she said. She held a small, lumpy package wrapped in garish red
and blue paper.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

"Rogue, you don't have to give me anything."

"I know I don't have to, silly. But I want to." She leaned forward,
holding it out to him again. "That's why it's a gift."

He took it reluctantly and slipped it into the pocket of his shirt. He
had to get away from her, or he didn't know what he'd do. Her scent was
intoxicating, her warmth, nearly overwhelming. She was so close, so
touchable. So -- kissable. He weighed the prospect of being knocked
unconscious against the possibility of tasting her again, while she was
awake and alive. A third possibility, that she would never speak to him
again, was rapidly being drowned out by his hormones.

"Aren't you gonna open it?" Her voice broke into his thoughts. "Please?"

He grumbled but took it out and tore the paper.

"It's a watch," she said helpfully.

"I can see that." It had a black leather band and a bulky bevel, with a
black face and all sorts of doohickeys on the dial. It looked like the
kind of watch he'd seen on some mercs and black ops guys -- the kind
that was water tested to two hundred meters and counted down how much
oxygen you had left in your tank. He knew it must have cost a pretty
penny, which made him shift uncomfortably.

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she managed not to laugh at his
grumpy response. "I heard this commercial, 'There's no present like the
time,' and I thought of you.

He blinked, a warmth he'd never felt before flooding his chest. "You
thought of me?"

She nodded, her hair bouncing like a living thing. He recalled the
silken texture of it against his fingers, and listened to the soft
whisping sound it made as it moved. "Yeah. See, you're searching for
your past. It's a present, and it'll help you in the future--"

That caught his attention.

"The future?"

"The future." She nodded decisively. "I know time must get away from
you, when you're all alone and you know, you don't -- well, you don't
get older, really, so it's hard to notice the time passing. So this
watch can remind you that you're not alone. You have friends. And I'd --
we'd -- like to be involved in your future."

"My future?" She'd really put a lot of thought into this, he realized.
And she seemed to know somehow that his future was here, with her. But
she shouldn't know that. She couldn't know that, because he couldn't
tell her, not until she was older, ready to make those kinds of
decisions.  "My future?" he repeated.

"Uh huh." She scooted closer, still on her knees. "C'mere." She took his
right hand in both of hers, and strapped the watch onto his wrist. It
was heavy, but the weight felt right, as if he'd once worn a similar
watch. "There," she said. "Now you can keep track of how long you've
been away, and the last time you called me. And, well, you'll show up on
time for your classes." It all came out in a rush and he had trouble
absorbing it. His mind was stuck on the idea of the future, a future. A
future with Marie.

He'd lived day-to-day, hand-to-mouth for so long, searching for the
past, that the future was just another meaningless word. But now -- now
he had one, and he looked forward to it. 'She won't be eighteen
forever,' he reminded himself.

"Logan?" she asked, and he could smell her anxiety. "Don't you like it?"

He squeezed her hand. "It's, it's great, kid. I just never --" The other
thing she'd said suddenly penetrated. "Classes? What classes?"

"What?" It was her turn to look confused. "Didn't the Professor tell
you?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Oh." She stuck her lower lip out, lost in thought, and he swallowed
hard, reminding himself that he couldn't just reach out and nibble on
it. "They want you to teach self-defense. Fighting. Boxing. Like that."

He nodded absently, mesmerized by the way the sunlight, filtering
through the leaves, dappled her skin, highlighting the arch of her cheek
and the slim, white column of her neck.

She seemed to be expecting a response, so he said, "I could do that."

"That's what I thought." He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, they asked me
and the you in my head -- well, it seemed like something you'd be good
at, and maybe even like."

She leaned forward, closing the distance between them even more, and
allowing the dog tag to dangle freely. It dawned on him that not only
was she giving him a gift, she was marking her territory, the way he'd
marked her as his with the dog tag. He found he didn't mind at all.

She pressed a soft kiss to his mutton-chopped cheek, where it was safe,
and he inhaled sharply.

She pulled back, but not far enough. He could taste her breath. He
slipped a hand around her gloved wrist, pinning her in place, and leaned
forward. His lips hovered over hers, breathing her in. A shiver ran
through her, drawing his eyes down to her chest, which rose and fell
rapidly. The chain of the dog tag shone dully against her skin, and
again he traced it with the tip of a finger.

Then he slid his lips along the white streak in her hair, close, so
close to her skin. She gasped in shock, and froze. He could smell fear
mingled with her desire.

"It's all right," he murmured against her ear, but he moved his mouth
away from her bare skin, pressing kisses to the tops of her breasts
through her tee shirt. Her hands slid through his hair, mapping his
skull as he caressed her with his lips and tongue. She arched into him,
offering herself without a second thought. And he took what she had to
give; his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing her peaked nipples
before he brought his mouth to them.

Her breathing was ragged now, and she made soft, wordless sounds that
spurred him on. Sucking eagerly at one breast, he used one hand to lift
her into his lap, settling her legs on either side of his. His hands
roamed her body, learning the feel of her, loving the way she
responded -- the sounds she made under his eager touches, the way her
body moved against his. He was working on instinct now, rational thought
lost in the rush of feeling. So many sensations to absorb -- the silken
fall of her hair over his hands when he stroked her back, her scent as
arousal replaced nervousness, the husky tone of her voice, and the
warmth that had nothing to do with their bodies and everything to do
with his feelings for her.

She rocked into him, and the feel of her against his groin made him
growl. There were too many layers of clothing between them. He wanted to
touch her, to be inside of her. He *needed* to be inside of her. He
fumbled a little at the fly of her jeans, hands trembling like a
teenager on his first date.

"God, Logan," she whispered, his name rising like a breathless prayer in
the late afternoon stillness.

"Marie."

He only called her that in his fantasies, and this was playing out like
one of the better ones.

And that thought hit him like cold water in the face. He leaned back
against the tree trunk, and she followed, pressing kisses to his chest.

He swallowed hard and gripped her shoulders; summoning every scrap of
willpower he could command, he pushed her away.

This wasn't a fantasy. It was reality. And he couldn't do this to her.
It wasn't right.

"Mar- Rogue." That was good. He was in control, reining in the beast
inside.  He pushed the hair off her forehead, hesitating at the hurt,
confused look in her eyes. "We can't do this."

"But--"

"No buts." He lifted her off his lap, gently, and deposited her on the
ground. He got up before she could do anything else. "You're just a
kid."

And he walked away.

***

Rogue blinked at Logan's retreating back, as if unable to believe what
had just happened.

He'd touched her, *kissed* her, and then walked away.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she forced them back, refusing to cry.

Instead, she got angry.

She strode back to the house, fuming. She was mumbling to herself when
she brushed past Jean in the hallway.

"Rogue, are you okay?"

"Who the hell does he think he is, anyway? " Rogue growled, doing a fine
impression of the man she was cursing.

"Did he not like the watch?"

"Oh, he liked it all right. Liked it so much he--" she broke off, the
anger draining away as she felt the other woman's concern wash over her.

"What did he do?" Jean's voice held a militant note that usually crept
into it only when Scott had pissed her off. She took Rogue's arm and led
her into the kitchen.

Rogue leaned back against the big, stainless steel refrigerator, trying
to cool off her still-raging hormones. "He just -- he kissed me and he
walked away! Just like that. 'You're too young, Rogue. You're just a
kid, Rogue.' Bah!" She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself
tightly, embarrassed by the wet spots on her shirt.

Jean settled into a chair at the table. "I was hoping that wouldn't be a
problem. "

Rogue pushed herself off the fridge. "What do you mean?"

"He's -- he's leery of the age difference, Rogue. He has every right to
be. You're only eighteen, and--"

Rogue laughed bitterly. "Look, I realize that I look like a regular
teenager, but I'm not. I mean, deadly skin? Not to mention a few decades
of memories that I'm not going to forget anytime within this lifetime."
She slumped into a chair next to Jean. "I've seen things that no one
could see and stay a child."

"I understand." Jean reached out and patted Rogue's hand. "I'm not the
one you have to convince."

"You don't think, you don't think I was wrong about him, about his
feelings, do you? " Rogue asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"He kissed you?" Jean asked. Rogue nodded. "Well, with all those years
of experience in your head, was it the kiss of a man in love, or the
kiss of a man thanking a friend for a gift?" Her eyes dropped to Rogue's
chest and Rogue felt the blush flare in her cheeks. "I see. Well, then,
we're correct in our assessment of his feelings. It's just a question of
whether he'll admit them or not."

"Logan? Admit to his feelings?" Rogue snorted. "That'll never happen."

"Well, we already know how he feels--"

"Do we? " Rogue pushed her hair out of her face and blushed again,
recalling some of his less -- nightmarish memories. "I mean, this is
Logan. He's just as likely to have sex as he is to shake hands with a
woman. Maybe--"

"He wouldn't have stopped if he didn't care," Jean said confidently.

Rogue opened her mouth and closed it again, thinking over that
statement. "How's that work?" she said after a few moments passed.

"He doesn't want to screw things up. He's -- afraid that he'll lose your
friendship if he pushes you. He's afraid people will call him a cradle
robber at best and a pervert, at worst. He's afraid that it's just a
crush on your part, or that you'll meet someone you like better when you
go back out into the world--" Her eyes took on a faraway look and Rogue
understood.

"That's what happened with you and Scott."

"Something like that, yes," Jean confirmed. "So, I understand why he's
hesitant. You have to give him some time, and he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll move to Plan B," Jean said darkly, rising from her chair.

Rogue stood as well, trying not to get her hopes up. "There's a Plan B?"

"One thing you learn as an X-Man, Rogue, is that there's *always* a Plan
B." Jean put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting
squeeze. "If we can't figure it out, there's always Scott." Rogue opened
her mouth, but Jean wasn't finished. "And if Scott can't do it, we'll
call in the secret weapon."

"Secret weapon?" Rogue was almost afraid to ask.

Jean nodded decisively. "Jubilee."

"Oh, God."

"Exactly. But let's hope Logan comes to his senses, so it doesn't come
to that."

***

Logan spent the next two days avoiding everyone in the mansion. He
devoted himself to conquering the Danger Room and beating the heavy bag
in the gym. That's where he was now, arguing with himself over what he
was going to do about Marie.

Every thought was punctuated with a hit on the bag.

He reminded himself that he didn't have to stay. He'd come back, as
promised, and Rogue was safe now. She had Cyke and Storm and Chuck to
protect her. She didn't need him looking out for her, complicating her
life. She was only eighteen. She'd get over it. Him. Whatever.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd eventually believe it.

He shied away from memories of the way her body felt pressed against
his, the taste of her in his mouth. He tried not to think about his
future, and hers, and the little thrill that ran through him when she'd
made it plain that she expected him -- them -- to have a future, and
have it together.

She was leaving him alone, and he was grateful for that, but he knew it
wouldn't last. She was persistent and brave, and all sorts of great
things that he loved but couldn't have.

Loved.

The word brought him up short, knuckles stinging at the abuse he was
heaping on them.

He loved beer and sex and fighting and the Canucks (though God knows,
they sucked this year). He didn't love people.

But he loved Marie.

It was the first time he'd articulated it, even in his own thoughts.

Christ.

Not only did he love her, he was in love with her – with the scared but
brave girl she'd been, and the strong, confident woman she was becoming.
He wanted to know every side of her, be with her through everything that
happened in her life.

He growled and let loose with another flurry of punches.

This was all kinds of bad.

It meant he couldn't walk away. And since walking away was one of the
few things he did well, he was shit out of luck.

Of course, he *could* walk away. Nothing was physically *stopping* him.
But the thought of the look on Marie's face if he left was a more
powerful hold on him than anything anyone else had ever tried, up to and
including strapping him down and cutting him open.

They'd fucked with his body and stolen his mind, but his will had never
been broken; he'd always been his own man, answering to no one.

If he followed his gut, and his gut was usually right, he'd stick around
and play this out, because his gut was telling him that this was
important. In fact, his instincts were screaming at him that this wasn't
a trap at all, but a good thing.

It was his brain getting in the way.

But for once, he was willing to let his brain be in charge, because he
was afraid this time that his instincts had settled down around his
crotch and he didn't want to be led around by his dick.

He wanted Marie.

He couldn't deny that, and he was going to give up trying. It was
hurting both of them.

His knuckles split, from the last round of hits to the bag, and he let
the pain wash over him. Pain had a way of throwing everything into sharp
relief, making him see what was real, and what was not.

This thing with him and Marie was real.

Now he just needed to figure out what to do about it.

He flexed his fists, knuckles already healed, and threw another round of
punches.

He was losing himself in the physical, having come to at least a partial
decision, when he scented Scott.

"Save some of that for Sabretooth," Scott said, entering the gym.

Logan glanced at him in the mirror and growled.

Scott didn't take the hint. "Look, I know you don't much like me. And
frankly, when we first brought you here, I didn't like you either."

Logan snorted, and continued punching.

Scott ignored that and continued, "But you came through in the clutch,
and it's obvious to anyone with eyes in his head that you care a lot
about Rogue."

'Great,' thought Logan. "Shut up."

Scott shrugged. "Not talking about it isn't going to make it go away."

Logan growled again. That was true, but saying it meant you had to deal
with it, and he hated dealing with feelings -- his own or other
peoples'. Especially when there was a woman involved.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to say that Jean and I hope everything works out
for you and Rogue."

Logan swung around to stare at him. "You're giving me your blessing?" he
asked incredulously.

Scott looked sheepish, a slight blush staining his cheeks, but he
nodded. "We understand how hard it can be when there's a big age gap in
a relationship, and--"

"Why don't you just mind your own damn business, One-Eye? I don't--" He
stopped, unable to complete that particular lie. "I don't need advice
about women, and I certainly don't want it from you."

He pushed past the younger man; he needed to get the hell out. Now.

"Okay," Scott called after him as he stalked down the hall, "but don't
blame me when they put Plan B into effect."

That stopped him.

"Plan B? What the hell is Plan B?"

Scott shook his head. "I like to think I'm as brave as any man alive,
but even I know not to cross the women when they get up to something."

Crap. Scott was right. Nothing was worse than women on a mission. "The
women?"

Scott nodded and joined Logan at the end of the hall, by the elevators.
"And I think they've enlisted Jubilee."

Logan thought about the kids he'd met one by one, matching names with
faces and mutations. "The gum chewer? Always in yellow? Big earrings?"

"That's her."

"Crap." That one had trouble written all over her.

Scott nodded again and Logan found himself thinking of those stupid
bobble-head dolls that people -- women, really -- always wanted him to
stick on the dashboard of his truck.

"That's what I'm saying, man. It's easier to just give in now and tell
Rogue how you feel."

Logan ran a hand through is hair, considering it. But there were two
things stopping him. He didn't like being manipulated, especially not by
a bunch of women (and Cyke), and he still thought he was bad for Marie.

That was the bottom line. He didn't want to hurt her, and that's what
would happen in the end, because that's what *always* happened. He
growled at the circular path his thoughts led him on. Thinking never did
anyone any good. And talking -- he wasn't sure he could ever actually
*tell* Marie how he felt. And certainly not when he was being pushed
into it.

"No. Let them do their worst. I'll be out of here in an hour."

But it was a lie, and they both knew it. He'd caught a glimpse of the
future -- his future -- and despite everything, he was going to hold
onto it. He felt the weight of the watch on his wrist. He hadn't taken
it off yet, had even begun sleeping in it, because it had come from her.
However, he wasn't about to be roped and collared like a bull being
taken out to pasture. He still had his mind and his will, and he would
make the decision in his own time.

"Logan--"

"Tell them to bring it on."

And he walked away, leaving Scott staring after him, a frown on his
face.

***

victoria

--

"What, do you want to tempt the wrath of the...whatever, from high atop
the thing?" Toby Ziegler, The West Wing

--

The Muse's Fool: http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
read my diary: http://musesfool.diaryland.com
We Invented the Remix...Redux: http://www.unfitforsociety.net/remix

disclaimers etc. in part 1.

Time (Clock of the Heart)
Part 2

***

At dinner that night, Rogue picked listlessly at her green beans. Scott
had reported back to Jean, who'd told her about Logan's response. She
hadn't expected anything less from him, but still, it was depressing.

Jubilee thumped her plate down onto the table next to Rogue's and
winked. Rogue held her breath. This wasn't going to end well, she had a
feeling, but she was committed to Plan B, at least for the moment.

"You coming dancing with us tonight, chica?" Jubilee asked, breaking
into her thoughts.

"Uh--" She saw Logan enter the dining room. Their eyes met, and he
looked away first.

"Come on, Rogue. You've got to start going out. You can't wait around
for Wolvie." Jubilee's voice was pitched so that there was no doubt in
anyone's mind she wanted Logan to hear the conversation. "Why do you
want him anyway? He's so old! He's -- Ow!"

Logan turned and walked out. "You're not helping," Rogue said through
gritted teeth, before hurrying after him.

"Logan--" She got the raised eyebrow in response. She took a deep
breath, blew it out. "She didn't mean it."

"She's right, kid. I *am* too old for you." He started walking again,
and she stood helplessly, unsure of what to say. At the door he turned
and said, "If that's Plan B, I'm not impressed."

She growled in frustration and muttered, "Dammit, Jubilee, if you've
ruined this, I'm going to kill you."

Of course, if she told Jubes what Logan had to say about Plan B, maybe
that would light a fire under her ass. And Jubilee on fire was not
something to be taken lightly. Rogue grinned reluctantly. Maybe things
would work out after all.

***

Rogue, Jubilee and Jean met over ice cream to plan out a strategy. Rogue
played her hand carefully, egging Jubilee on but still slightly unsure
that they'd be able to pull the whole thing off.

"Jubes, I swear to God, I *told* you the age thing has him all freaked
out. And what do you go and do but mention how he's too old for me!" She
poked the air violently with her chocolate-syrup coated spoon. "I could
kill you!"

"That was a bit of a miscalculation," Jean said, laughing, "but I'm sure
you've got something in mind to fix the damage, right, Jubilee?"

Jubilee nodded. "Oh, yeah," she said. "Not to worry. It's all under
control." She looked at Rogue. "Sprinkles?"

"Please. How exactly is it 'under control'? If tonight was anything to
go by--"

"Rogue, baby, calm down," Jubilee said. "Trust me."

"I hate when people say that to me."

"Look, you just follow my lead, okay?"

"Not if it leads where it did tonight, Jubes. I keep following you, I'm
going to be driving Logan away instead of luring him close."

"Luring?" Jean asked with a grin, looking up from her bowl of Dulce de
Leche.

"You know, with her feminine wiles," Jubilee said.

"Oh, God," Rogue muttered, rubbing her forehead wearily. "I'm doomed."

***

Logan was working on the motorcycle when Jubilee found him.

"Look, Wolvie--"

"Don't call me that."

She ignored him. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I totally don't
think you're too old for Rogue. In fact, I think she needs somebody old,
because she's got old guys in her head."

He raised an eyebrow. He got the feeling she was supposed to be
apologizing, but she was almost as bad at it as he was. She looked at
him expectantly, but he gave her nothing.

"Come on, you know you've got the hots for her."

He turned back to the bike. If he wasn't going to discuss it with Cyke,
who was at least old enough to drink, he *certainly* wasn't going to
spill his guts to this teenager, even if she was trying to help Marie.

Teenager.

God, everywhere he looked, he had reminders that he was older than dirt
(even if he didn't look or feel it) and Marie was eighteen.

And this kid was right. He had the hots for her. He growled menacingly,
but Jubilee wasn't even fazed.

"Since she bought you the watch, I think you should reciprocate and buy
her something nice," she was saying when he tuned back in.

That idea struck a chord in him. He could give her a gift. There was
nothing wrong with that. And she *had* gotten him the watch, which he'd
grown attached to in the few days he'd had it.

Against his better judgement, he was intrigued. "What did you have in
mind?"

"I'll take her shopping. You give me the money, I'll get her something
nice."

"And how do I know you're not just looking for someone to finance your
own shopping spree?"

She looked insulted. "Would I do that? Rogue is my best friend! I'm
trying to help her out here, and to make up for yesterday."

"You want to make up for insulting me by making me give you money. Yeah,
I'll really go for that."

"Look, I'll bring you back the receipts for everything we buy. Trust
me." He growled in response to those words, so she hurried on, "It'll
make Rogue happy."

He rose in one easy movement, reached into his pocket and brought out
his wallet. "Here," he said, counting bills out into her hand. "Three
hundred bucks. You *better* spend it all on her, get her some nice shit,
or you and me will have some words."

She hugged him and was gone before he had a chance to react.

"Thanks, Wolvie!" she called over her shoulder. "You won't regret this!"

"I already do." He added, "And don't called me Wolvie!" but she was
already gone.

He went back to work, hoping that at least Rogue would get something
nice out of all this, and that she'd forgive him if he hurt her with his
reluctance.

***

That afternoon, Jubilee dragged Rogue to the mall. "You have to feel
sexy to look sexy," she said. "And your granny panties and sports bras
are just not cutting it."

"Hey!"

"Have you ever worn a thong? Or even lacy undies? Be honest now, Rogue."
She grabbed a pretty pair of purple satin panties in Rogue's size, and
then rooted through the table to find the matching bra.

"It never seemed important. I mean, who was going to see them? It's not
like I can just get naked with someone at the drop of a hat, like some
people."

"Hey! I don't get naked at the drop of a hat! I just ... I have needs.
And maybe you find it easy to stay chaste until Gruff and Growly gets a
clue, but some of us don't have Mr. Right all picked out. We have to go
out and find him."

"Or Mr. Right Now, anyway." Rogue frowned at the red lace demi-cup bra
Jubilee held up. "No red."

"Whatever."

"Jubes -- it's not like I don't *want* to have sex, and lots of it. But
even if Logan weren't interested, it's not like guys are knocking down
my door to be with me. Deadly skin, remember?" She fingered the silk of
a green bra and looked it over thoughtfully.

"How could I forget? You act like you're the only one who ever had
relationship problems because of your mutation."

Rogue gasped, her attention locked on her friend instead of the lingerie
in front of them. "Is that what you think?"

"I'm just saying. Nobody likes a martyr. You could have any guy you
wanted, but you totally give off this 'untouchable' vibe, and it has
nothing to do with your skin."

"What does it have to do with then, huh?"

"Logan. You buried yourself, waiting for him to come around. And while I
think it's great that he finally has, and I'm gonna do everything I can
to help you snag him, I don't think you should cut off all your other
options."

"What other options?" Rogue's voice rose, and people began shooting
sidelong glances their way.

"Bobby. Remy. Piotr," Jubilee counted off. "And that's just the
beginning."

"I--"

Jubilee interrupted, pulling a cameo pink bra out of the pile on the
table. "This is it, Rogue. This is your color."

Rogue blinked. She was used to Jubilee's short attention span, and she
didn't really want to have that conversation in the middle of Victoria's
Secret, but even she was thrown by the rapid change in subject.

"It's very... pink," she said doubtfully. Heedless of the danger,
Jubilee held the bra up to Rogue's face. Rogue flinched. "Jubes!"

"Look in the mirror, chica. It's you. It's *so* you."

Rogue took the flimsy garment from Jubilee and walked over to the
full-length mirror on the wall. She pressed the soft silk to her cheek,
and was amazed at how it seemed to make her skin glow with health. She
lost herself in a brief fantasy of Logan seeing her in the bra and, more
interestingly, seeing her take it off.

"I think you're right," she said. She made a beeline for the table where
Jubilee had found the bra, looking for the matching bikinis.

After that, it didn't take long for Rogue to get into the spirit of the
afternoon. It was all so new to her, the idea of exposing skin as a
means of attraction. She spent so much time trying to keep people away
from her skin, and now she was deliberation looking to attract someone,
well, Logan; her whole world felt slightly tilted.

She bought other things as well, dainty, lacy things in green and gold
and black and white. Camisoles edged with lace and matching tap pants
that made her feel a little naughty. A cobalt-colored teddy made of silk
so fine it felt like air against her skin.

She hadn't thought about how she was going to pay for everything,
floating on the fantasy of modeling it all for Logan, until she reached
the counter.

"Cash or charge?"

"Uh--"

"Cash," Jubilee said, peeling off three one-hundred-dollar bills and
laying them on the counter. She took the six dollars change from the
cashier and said, "Excellent. We still have enough to get you one of
those mochaccino lattes you're so fond of."

"Jubes, I can't let you spend that kind of money on me. That's crazy!"

"That's Logan's dough, babe."

Rogue's mouth formed the word, "Logan?" but no sound came out. After a
few seconds, voice working again, she said, "Logan? What? How-- Jubilee!
Did you steal money from Logan?"

"Oh, as if, Rogue. The man is so paranoid he probably sleeps with his
wallet under his pillow." She smirked and held up one of the pink
striped shopping bags. "Here's to hoping you get a chance to find out.
But no, I told him he should get you something nice in return for the
watch. And voila! He gave me money and told me to show you a good time."
The smirk widened into a grin. "He really has it bad for you, Rogue."

Jubilee wouldn't say any more, and she wouldn't take the money Rogue
offered her to help pay for the lingerie she'd bought. Rogue felt a
small pang that Logan was talking to Jubilee, and not to her, but she
pushed it down.

They stopped at Starbucks on the way out of the mall, and got
mochaccinos, pleased with the way their afternoon had gone.

On the ride back to the mansion, Rogue asked, "So, what's next?"

Jubilee gave her another wicked grin. "Plan B is multifaceted. Tonight,
we go out dancing."

"With Logan?"

Jubilee burst into laughter. "No, Rogue. We're not going to some
honkytonk where Wolvie can two-step with you. We're getting dressed up
and going clubbing. We're going to show him he's not the only fish in
the sea, and if he doesn't want you, someone else does."

"I don't know, Jubes. I--"

"Would you just trust me?"

"It sends a shiver down my spine whenever you say that."

"Heh. Look, I want you to get what you want. You deserve it. So, just
trust me."

And with that, Rogue had to be content.

***

When Logan got back to his room that evening, he knew Jubilee had been
around because the scent of L'Air du Temps lingered in the hallway. He
found an envelope on the floor when he opened the door to his room.

It contained a receipt from Victoria's Secret ("Oh, God, she's trying to
kill me," he muttered, imagining Rogue in any number of outfits from the
lingerie emporium) and a note that said, "And there was enough left to
go for coffee! Thanks!"

He went looking for Rogue, hoping to talk (and maybe see what exactly
he'd bought her) but she was out. Dancing, Storm said, with a smile.
Rogue was out dancing, very likely wearing fancy underwear *he'd* paid
for.

The next few nights were the same. Whenever he went looking for Rogue,
thinking that he could spend some time with her while he figured out
what he was going to do, she was out. Dancing, movies, parties --
"Christ, Chuck, what the hell kind of school are you running?" he
growled the fourth night, when Xavier told him that Rogue had gone into
the city with Bobby and the other boys.

"It's best for them to have freedom, Logan," Xavier replied mildly. "It
gives them a sense of being in the world, no matter how much the world
might like to be rid of them. They're not children, Logan, and I have no
right to impose strictures on their social lives."

And he was right. Logan knew it.

The idea of Rogue as an adult -- and was recognized *as* an adult by
other adults -- was enough to send him back to his room to think. Or
jerk off. Or both, because thinking about Marie generally led to jerking
off. And he finally allowed himself to believe that it was okay to think
of her that way, and that she thought of him that way.

Because he could no longer deny that though she was young, she wasn't a
child, and she was taking responsibility for her life. She wasn't
waiting around for him. She wasn't a clingy, helpless child in need of
protection, and he wasn't her father or her brother. She was out there
living her life, and he wanted to be a part of it.

If she could find time for him in her busy schedule.

The next morning at breakfast, Jubilee could be heard telling anyone who
stood still long enough to listen how Rogue had flustered their waiter
so much by flirting with him that he'd spilled water all over Remy.

And Remy-- Just the thought of the Cajun being around Marie, taking her
dancing, no doubt trying to cop a feel... the growl rose in his throat
every time.

He knew, though, that they were manipulating him and he was responding
exactly the way Jubilee wanted. And that just wasn't the way things
worked. He was the Wolverine. He wasn't going to be tricked into
anything, trapped by a bunch of scheming women.

Two days later, he found another note under his door. This one said, "If
you want some alone-time with Rogue, be in the gym at five am on Sunday
morning."

He knew he would be there, regardless of this game he was playing with
the little firecracker. Because he *did* want to spend time with Rogue,
and this way, it would look accidental.

He got up at four on Sunday morning, and debated with himself about the
best way to arrange things to his own advantage. At first, he thought
being in the gym when she arrived was the way to go, but then he thought
she might not join him, might just go out of her way to avoid him, as
he'd avoided her earlier. And that wasn't good.

So, he waited, sitting on the end of the bed, until he heard her pass
his door. Five am on the nose.

He'd learned, in the time he'd been back, that she was not a morning
person at all, and he wondered why she chose to get up at the crack of
dawn on the one morning she could usually sleep in. Even Scott didn't
schedule lessons early on Sundays.

He waited another fifteen minutes before making his way down to the gym.
He padded on bare feet, not wanting to give her any time to get away. He
pushed the door open and caught his breath.

She had her back to him, but was reflected in the mirrored wall, her
body limned by the dawn light that filtered through the small, high-set
windows. She wore only a pair of black bicycle shorts and a black tank
top. He'd never seen so much of her bare skin. She was luminous.

She moved slowly through stretching exercises he recognized as tai chi,
graceful and lithe, and he now understood why she gave up precious sleep
to do this. It was the only time she bared her skin outside of her own
room, the only time she was free to work out without worrying about
brushing up against one of the others. The focused yet content
expression she wore made his heart ache in his chest. He couldn't take
that away from her, so he simply watched from the doorway, unobserved.

He knew that his indecision was hurting her, but he resented feeling
like a puppet, with Jubilee pulling his strings. He would tell Rogue
about his feelings in his own time, and in his own way.

Not ten minutes after he made that decision, sneaking away from the gym
before she caught him spying on her, his resolve was almost broken.

Jubilee had been in his room again.

A pink string bikini hung from the doorknob, a yellow sticky note
attached to the tags. "Just thought you'd like a look at what you
bought."

He growled then grabbed the tiny scrap of material and crumpled it,
flinging it across the room; it landed on the lampshade. He was grateful
for the fact that Jubilee hadn't waited until after Rogue had worn them
to slip them into his room. He didn't think he could have handled *that*
with any sort of equanimity.

A week later, he still hadn't approached Rogue, and she was now
obviously keeping out of his way, leaving rooms when he arrived,
avoiding the Danger Room and the gym when he was there. He was glad
Jubilee had let him on her secret gym ritual, or he wouldn't have seen
her at all. He treasured those early mornings, where he got to see her
in a way no one else did. He knew he'd have to reveal himself sooner or
later, but he was greedy, and not ready to give up something so special.
He guarded the door whenever she was in there along. That morning when
Scott had shown up at the gym looking to work out, he's sent him on his
way with a growl.

That afternoon, a pink silk bra appeared on his pillow. The note said,
"So you have a matching set." He brought the flimsy garment to his nose,
inhaling the light scent of perfume that must have come from the store,
mixed with a hint of Rogue and a hint of Jubilee.

He imagined how Marie would look wearing it, and even more interesting,
how she'd look as he peeled it off her, revealing soft, full,
pink-tipped breasts that fit perfectly into his hands. He remembered the
feel of them in his hands, under his lips, her body arching into his.

He wanted nothing more than to lie down on the bed and give in to the
fantasies that were filling his head, but he knew that if he did, he'd
never be able to stay away from Rogue, and he was bound and determined
to beat Jubilee at this game. If he could hold out long enough, she'd
give up and he could then go to Rogue on his own terms. That was all he
really wanted now. He still wasn't sure if he would tell her how he felt
now, or tell her that they needed to wait, that she had to do a little
more living before he'd be comfortable even talking about a
relationship, but he definitely needed to talk to her, to make things
right between them.

A relationship. Jesus Christ, he thought. The fact that he was even
contemplating a relationship -- he, who ran every time a woman bought
him a toothbrush and asked how he liked his eggs -- was scaring the hell
out of him.

He needed to be sure he was doing the right thing before he did
*anything*. He reaffirmed his decision to wait a little longer, to not
be pushed into action by Jubilee, of all people, and not because he was
being led around by his dick.

Which was currently demanding his attention, and as much as he told
himself no, it didn't work. After showering, he took off and didn't come
back until the next morning, trying to lose himself and his feelings in
a bottle of bourbon and some random violence.

He felt Rogue's eyes on him as she passed him in the hallway, and that
just made it worse. He almost stopped her, apologized for being an
asshole and ended the whole game right there, but he smelled of stale
beer and cigar smoke, and for the first time in a long time, he felt
shame.

He was wrong for her. He could see disappointment in her eyes. It was
the first time, but he knew it wouldn't be the last. Even if they got
together, there were some things about him that could never be made
right, and it bothered him that she would have to deal with them. Not
quite enough for him to give up the idea of their ever being together,
but enough to check him, to keep him from speaking right then, and
possibly for quite a while to come.

He pushed past her without a word, and after a couple hours of sleep,
spent the day in the Danger Room, taking out his aggression on the
holograms.

Later, when Jubilee cornered him in the he living room, he wasn't in the
mood for the game anymore, and he told her so.

***

Rogue grabbed the popcorn from the microwave and dumped it into a large
bowl. She took two bottles of Diet Coke from the fridge and headed
toward the living room, where Jubilee waited with the movies.

"Look, kid, I know what's going on." The sound of Logan's voice stopped
her in the hallway. "I'll tell you right now, you're not going to win
this game. So just cut it out. It'll be easier for all of us that way."

She heard the snap of Jubilee's gum and then, "Fine. Sure. It makes it
easier on *you*, you mean. I thought you wanted Rogue, but if you don't,
don't be a prick. Go out and get laid if you need to. Whatever. But this
isn't a game. Not anymore.

"We had fun with it, but playtime's over, Logan. It's Rogue's feelings
and her future we're dealing with, and if you think that's a game, then
maybe you're better off just walking away. She certainly would be.
Because your attitude is making us all miserable, Rogue especially, and
it needs to stop."

Rogue hurried back to the kitchen before either of them could discover
her presence. She turned their conversation over in her mind. If Logan
wanted to walk away, she would make it easy for him. The direct approach
hadn't worked, and obviously, Plan B was a bust. She didn't want to
manipulate him into saying things he didn't mean, or didn't want. She
knew how much he hated that, and realized that the whole idea had been
doomed from the start.

If she really wanted him, loved him, she was going to have to let him --
and her feelings for him -- go.

If he really wanted her, loved her, he'd stick around.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

She rushed to her room and, with grim determination, piled all her
pretty new underwear on the bed. It symbolized the whole sorry plan, and
she was just going to pack it up and put it away. Maybe she could return
the items she hadn't worn, get some of Logan's money back. Apologize for
trying to force him into something he wasn't ready for.

She laughed at that, though it had a bitter edge to it. As if anyone
could force the Wolverine into anything he didn't want to do. Anyone
short of Magneto, anyway.

She had almost all of it in a shopping bag, but the pink bra and
matching string bikini were nowhere to be found. She growled in
frustration. She thought she might keep that set, because it was so
pretty, and she looked *good* in it, but she couldn't find it.

She methodically searched each drawer, telling herself to be calm,
because underwear just didn't get up and walk away by itself.

Halfway through, Jubilee came into the room.

"Whoa! What's with Hurricane Rogue?"

Rogue slammed shut the drawer she'd been searching. "My new pink
underwear is missing."

Jubilee smiled. "Oh, I think I know where you can find it."

***

Logan remained in the living room, Jubilee's words echoing in his head.
He didn't just want to get laid. If the solution to his problem were
that easy, he'd have taken care of it already, instead of jerking off
twice a day imagining Marie in the skimpy underwear he'd bought her.

And he didn't want to make her miserable, either. In fact, that was the
last thing he wanted to do.

But she was, and it was his fault.

He knew he had two choices. He could go upstairs, pack his bags and walk
away for good. Or he could go upstairs, find Rogue, and tell her that he
wanted to be with her and see what happened.

And he realized that, really, it was no choice at all. He'd spent the
past sixteen years caring for nothing but himself, and it hadn't made
him happy, hadn't helped him find his past, hadn't done *anything* for
him except make him bitter and jaded.

So maybe it was time for a change, a time to take a chance on something
good. He knew they could both be hurt, but he was willing to bear pain
if it carried the prospect of something good along with it. Rogue had
obviously already decided it, long before he came back. It was kind of
sad that an eighteen-year-old girl -- woman -- had figured it all out
before he had. But that was just one more bit of evidence that she was
mature, able to make her own decisions, and that she was better at it
than he was.

He stood slowly, and took a deep breath, preparing to face his future,
and perhaps shed some of the burdens of his past.

Then Jean marched into the room, a steely glint in her eye.

He sighed.

"I'm not in the mood, Red."

That didn't deter her.

"Well, maybe you'd better *get* in the mood, Logan."

He blinked. He'd never heard her so pissed off -- never even thought
she'd had it in her, despite the red hair. He opened his mouth to speak,
but she steamrollered right over him.

"I just spoke with Jubilee, and I'm telling you right now, if you hurt
Rogue because of some stupid macho pride thing, I will twist that metal
skeleton of yours into knots."

"Uh--"

"She loves you and you love her. Everyone can see it. So stop playing
games and suck it up. Be a man and *tell her*."

"I--"

"I know what it's like to worry about people thinking you're taking
advantage, but you can't let what other people say stop you, or hurt
you, or the one you love. If I didn't truly believe that you and Rogue
would be good for each other, I would never have encouraged her to
pursue you, nor would I be here now telling you to get your ass upstairs
and talk to her."

"I was already on my way," he said meekly.

"Good. Don't let this happen again." She turned on her heel and walked
out.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. It was an
odd feeling, one he wasn't used to, but he thought he could learn to
like it. Then he went upstairs, hoping he didn't make a total fool of
himself.

***

She was in his room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear
muttering and drawers being opened and closed.

On the one hand, that made things easier; on the other, he wasn't sure
he was really ready to tell her how he felt.

He looked at the watch on his wrist, the gift that started this whole
farce in the first place. If he hadn't kissed her that day...

And that line of thought was completely useless, because he *had* kissed
her, and he wanted to do it again at the earliest opportunity.

He smirked as he thought of the bra and panties he had in his
possession, and if this went well, maybe she'd model them for him
tonight.

He pushed open the door and leaned against the jamb, enjoying the view
of Rogue bent over, rummaging through the bottom drawer of his dresser.

"I'm going to kill you, Jubes," she said, then turned to face him. She
gasped. "Logan!"

"In the flesh, darlin'." He shut the door and let his gaze travel over
her, from the tips of her bare toes, up her long legs, lingering just a
little at her breasts. He had dreams about those breasts. The tee shirt
she wore pulled tight across them and he had to swallow hard at the
thought of making those dreams a reality.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, breathless.

"I think that's my line."

"Uh--"

"So, what are you doing here?" He moved to stand in front of her, so
close that if she took a deep breath, those breasts would brush against
him.

She licked her lips, and dropped her gaze. He raised an eyebrow. "I
thought I-- I mean, I --"

He raised his arm and she took a step back. He reached around her to
open the drawer on his night table, and grinned at her sharp intake of
breath when he brushed against her. He pulled out the bra and panties.

"Been wondering where these are?" he asked. She nodded. He leaned in
close, his lips almost brushing her ear. "I've been wondering how they'd
look on you."

She cocked her head, and he could practically hear the thoughts whizzing
around in there.

After a moment, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, flipping
her hair over her shoulders. "Well, why don't we find out?" Crossing her
arms over her waist, she lifted the tee shirt over her head, baring
herself to him. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"God, Marie." The words were torn from him. The lingerie he'd been
holding fluttered to the floor unnoticed as he grabbed her gloved wrist
and pulled her against him; with his right hand, he reached into his
back pocket and drew out a pair of supple leather gloves.

Her body was strong, but soft in all the right places, her curves and
hollows fitting perfectly into his embrace. She rubbed against him,
purring like a cat, and twined her arms around his neck.

"Kiss me, Logan," she said. "Please."

Holding her against him with one ankle hooked around hers, he pulled the
gloves on before stroking her lips. Then he brushed his mouth against
them, so soft and quick that her skin didn't react. Then he pressed a
little harder, molding her lips to his, feeling the tingle as the
connection opened.

Then he pulled away, just far enough to be safe.

"You understand?" he said.

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Yeah. Kiss me again."

He searched the room before lighting on the discarded tee shirt.

"Give me one second, darlin'." He let her go long enough to snatch the
thin bit of fabric from the floor and drape it over the lower half of
her face. It was soft and worn from too many washings, and he could feel
her through it.  He kissed her hard and deep. She responded eagerly, her
hands running through his hair and then skating down his back.

"Take me to bed, Logan."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She looked up at him though lowered lashes and pouted. "Don't you want
to?" He opened his mouth to respond when she ground her hips into his.
Then she met his gaze again, mischief plain on her face. He growled.
God, did he want to. "I guess that's a yes, huh, big fella?"

He swung her up into his arms. "I don't want to rush you," he admitted.
He laid her down on the bed and settled between her parted legs.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," she said, wrapping her arms
around his neck and drawing him down to her.

He stroked her jaw, cupped her cheek and ran a thumb over her eyebrow,
trying to memorize her face by touch alone. "Waiting? For this? Or for
me?"

She smiled. "Both. For you mostly, though." He felt the fierce grin of
triumph crease his face as he nuzzled at her neck. She tapped his
shoulder lightly. "Don't get cocky. I could have had any guy I wanted."

He laughed, then, full on laughter that he could feel all the way down
to his toes, and he knew she could feel it too. He thrust his hips
against hers. "I thought the whole point of this was to get... cocky."

"Oh, man." She rolled her eyes. "You tell the worst jokes, Logan."

"You said it, darlin', not me."

"Did you catch the other part? The part about me having any guy I
wanted?"

"I did. I know." He didn't say it, but he hoped she knew how grateful he
was that she'd waited, chosen him. He turned serious then. "Are you
sure?" he said again, staring down into her eyes.

"Yes, Logan. More sure than I've ever been about anything."

"Okay, then. No waiting." He put the tee shirt over her mouth and kissed
her again, luxuriating in the feel, scent and taste of her.

"No time like the present," she murmured against his lips.

He smiled and stole a quick glance at the watch. Everything since the
day she'd give it to him had led to this moment.

"Amen to that."

end

***

victoria

--

"What, do you want to tempt the wrath of the...whatever, from high atop
the thing?" Toby Ziegler, The West Wing

--

The Muse's Fool: http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
read my diary: http://musesfool.diaryland.com
We Invented the Remix...Redux: http://www.unfitforsociety.net/remix

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue


4
Jean

Jean knocked softly on Logan's door, knowing his hearing would pick it up
anyway. After a moment, she knocked again. When he didn't answer, she sent
out a light searching thought. He was in there, all right, but something was
wrong.

She opened the door and searched the room with a glance. Logan was on the
floor, fully dressed, from flannel shirt to jeans to boots, passed out. Jean
knelt next to him and rolled him onto his back. "Logan?"

She was answered with a weak groan.

There didn't seem to be anything wrong with him physically. She saw a couple
of beer bottles decorating the room, but she'd never known him to pass out
drunk before. Usually, his healing factor more than compensated for whatever
alcohol he drank.

Jean brushed a hand over his forehead. His temperature seemed normal, too.
"Logan?" she said again.

"Jeannie." Logan  groaned again and opened his eyes. "What's goin' on?"

Jean blew out a relieved breath and sank into a cross-legged position on the
floor. "I don't know. You were just unconscious.  Do you remember what
happened?"

He ran a hand over his face, then pushed himself into a sitting position.
Suddenly, he gasped, and an actual, honest-to-God smile bloomed on his face.
Jean stared in shock. She'd heard rumors that he smiled at Rogue like that
sometimes. Geez. No wonder the girl was in love with him. His face was
completely transformed. For the first time since she met him, he looked
happy.

"I remember," Logan said excitedly. "I remember it all. It came back, all at
once. I don't know ..." He stood up and began pacing the room, talking under
his breath.

"Logan, that's wonderful," she said happily, standing up. "What do you
remember?"

"I'm not from here," he said, frowning now. "Where's Marie?"

OK. Jean wasn't getting the connection there. But she'd never understood how
his mind worked, anyway. "That's why I came here," she explained. "Rogue's
missing. I had this strange ... feeling or dream. Jubilee was yelling about
Rogue and a mirror --"

"The mirror." Logan looked almost panicked now. "She's gone back."

"What do you mean 'gone back'? Gone where?" Jean wondered briefly if she was
still asleep. Either that, or Logan had developed a drug habit somewhere
along the way.

"I'd like to know that, too."

Jean spun around to find Scott in the doorway. She nearly sighed at the
sight of him. It was the middle of the night, and he looked perfectly
put-together, dark hair combed, black pajama bottoms and gray T-shirt not
even appearing wrinkled. He was beautiful. Jean pushed away the thought and
shrugged.

Logan was pulling clothing out of his dresser, ignoring them. Finally, he
sighed. "I'm not from this ... world. Neither is Rogue."

Jean exchanged a look with Scott. They didn't need telepathy to know what
the other was feeling: He's finally lost it.

"Logan ..." Jean began.

"Believe what you want, Red, but it's the truth." Logan pointed to his head.
"Look for yourself."

Again, Jean looked to Scott, and she wondered in annoyance when she became
incapable of thinking for herself. They weren't together; she couldn't
depend on his help anymore. Before he could even respond, she went to Logan,
framing his head with her hands. She'd gotten to the point where she was
strong enough to read him without the proximity; it had just become more of
a habit than anything.

Her eyes drifted closed, and immediately a rush of images sped through her
mind. A slide show of Logan's life on fast forward, the pictures flew by so
fast she could only grasp the edges of his experiences. And the feelings.
Happiness, freedom, pride, anger, joy, love,
jealousy-fear-anticipation-embarrassment-love-pain ...

*Jean!*

She felt Scott physically pull her away from Logan, but it was his mental
cry that broke her  link with Logan's mind. Trembling, she allowed herself a
wonderful moment in Scott's arms before she pulled away. Logan was sitting
on the bed, grinning at her.

"You remember everything," she said slowly. She'd never considered the
impact of a lifetime's worth of memories crashing into his brain. No wonder
he'd passed out. She'd been a moment away from fainting herself.

"Yep." Logan stood up and went to the closet, yanking out a backpack and
tossing it on the bed.

Jean turned to Scott, who was watching Logan and frowning. "He's telling the
truth, Scott. I don't ... I don't know where he's from, but it's ..." She
trailed off and sighed. There was no way to explain it. *It's different*,
she pushed the thought toward Scott, along with the feeling of otherness she
got from the images.

Characteristically, Scott didn't argue. He trusted her, even after
everything that had happened. Trusted her instincts, anyway. "What does this
'other world' have to do with Rogue?"

Logan looked up from shoving clothes into his bag. "Marie is from my home,
too. She ... we brought her here when she was a baby, for protection. I was
supposed to protect her." The happy look that had been hovering on his face
vanished. "I was supposed to protect her, but those government bastards got
me, and I didn't remember her."

"Where are you going?" Jean asked. "What does the mirror mean?"

Logan sighed, zipping up the bag and tossing it over his shoulder. "There's
a gateway from my world to yours. A device, nobody knows who built it or how
it works. But on this end, it looks like a mirror. It has to be nearby."

"There are a lot of mirrors in the mansion alone, Logan," Scott said. "How
do we find it?"

"*We* don't," Logan said, yanking the door open. He paused, looked back at
the two of them. "Thanks for everything. You --" he nodded at Scott. "Don't
let Red screw things up between you."

Scott nodded, and Jean rolled her eyes at the manly nonverbal agreement that
was struck right before her eyes.

"Hold on, Logan." For the moment, Jean decided to ignore Scott. There were
more important things to take of. "I'm going with you."

"No." Scott and Logan spoke in stereo, prompting another eye-roll. They
would never believe how alike they were, no matter how often they had their
"twin moments," as Jubilee called them.

"Rogue needs me," Jean said. "Don't ask me why, but I have a feeling."

Scott didn't waste time arguing with her. "If you go, I go."

"Shit." Logan stomped into the hall. "Dress for the outdoors. And hurry the
hell up. I'll track the girls."

"Logan." He stopped and glared at her. "I think ... check downstairs."

As he nodded and took off down the hall, Jean slid past Scott toward the
door. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Jean ..."

"We have to hurry," she said quickly.

He started to speak, then snapped his mouth shut and ran a hand through his
hair. It left a little  tuft sticking up on the right side, where his hair
was always just the tiniest bit stubborn. She loved that little rebellious
patch of hair, though Scott daily tamed it into place. By force of a strong
will, she didn't reach out and fix it for him.

After a moment, he spoke quietly in his "fearless leader" tone. "Stop by the
girls' room and pick up some clothes for them, too. I'll leave the Professor
a note, and I'll make sure Logan waits."

He left her standing there, hand half-raised to smooth his hair against her
will.

"Stupid," she muttered, rushing from the room. She had a date with a magic
mirror.



A'Mirion: Girl

The one they called Girl had a name once. Meri, she was called, but more
often than not she refused to let herself remember the time before she'd
come to the castle. The memories of her parents, her mother's laughter, her
father lifting her up and twirling her around, only made her current
situation more painful.

In brief moments of clarity she knew she wasn't sane; she'd overheard her
parents talking about it when she was 10. Being a seer was hard enough; for
one who came into her power so young the balance of sanity was even more
precarious.

Her insanity was the only thing keeping her alive.

She thought she had passed her 13th birthday, but she wasn't sure. She lived
in a small, cold room in the depths of the castle, only eating when she was
forced. And from time to time, he would call her to him and demand to know
the future.

She knew what Deven Maron was, how he leached Gifts from others, taking
their lives in the process. He would take her Gift, her curse, as well. But
he feared he would get her insanity, too.

So she lived.

Today, he wanted to know where he could find a healer. He had been searching
for one of the Untamed for some time, someone he could steal healing power
from. But she had something else to tell him instead.

"Are you listening to me, Girl?" he asked. His voice was even, but he was
pacing around, tapping his fingers impatiently on his thighs. There was
nothing remarkable about him at all. Average face, average body, average
voice. But his ruthlessness and hunger for power had made him a king.

Girl, kneeling on the cold stone floor, began to laugh. "She is coming," she
said softly, her voice rusty from disuse.

"Why are you laughing?" he stalked over to her, yanked her up by one thin
arm. He pulled her long, straggly blond hair out of her face. "Who is
coming?"

Girl pulled away and walked past Maron, apparently aimlessly. She came to a
set of glass double doors and pushed  them open before turning back. "The
princess is back," she said.

Maron froze. "Emmarie is here."

Girl nodded dreamily, leaning against one door and breathing in the fresh,
cold air.

Maron rubbed a hand over his chin. He smiled, and its coldness brought a
shiver to Girl. She was glad she would finally be free of this man. Her job
was finished.

"What is her Gift?" Maron asked.

It was Girl's turn to smile. "She will teach you to fly," she said, rushing
to the balcony and jumping into darkness.


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue


5
Jubilee

"This is so 'Star Trek'," Jubilee said quietly as they followed Celeste
through the woods. Risa trailed a few paces behind them. Jubilee had offered
to share the bunny slippers with Rogue, who was barefoot, but her friend had
declined. She still seemed to be in shock from what was happening, and
Jubilee couldn't blame her.

They weren't exactly prisoners, but Risa had told them she couldn't allow
them to go back through the cave. She wouldn't give them much information,
other than the fact that someone -- this Sidre person -- knew they were
coming and sent Risa and Celeste to wait by the cave.

Risa answered everything with "You will have to ask Sidre," as if that
cleared everything up. Which was still more than Barbie -- Celeste -- had
told them. Any time they asked her something, she would just shrug or smirk
at their ignorance. She seemed particularly put out when she found that
Jubilee had lied about her name, though Risa had told her to get over it.

"What do you mean?" Rogue asked.

"Hello? Alternate universe? Obviously, we've encountered a warp core breach
in the space-time continuum." She was glad to see a smile on Rogue's face.
"If only Bobby were here."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, he's a 'Star Trek' geek, big-time. He could figure out how to use the
Prime Directive to repair the temporal anomaly."

Rogue laughed. "Jubes, how many Jolt Colas did you have tonight?"

"Um ..." Jubilee thought back. "Two. And a package of Skittles. And a Pop
Tart."

Rogue raised her eyebrow, an eerie reflection of Logan.

"OK, two Pop Tarts. ... And a cappuccino and whipped-cream-filled
chocolate-frosted doughnut."

"Ugh," Rogue made a face. "No wonder you puked back there."

"Dude, I was fine until I came through your looking glass."

"It's not *my* looking glass," Rogue muttered.

"But you were meant to go through it," Jubilee said quietly. "They were
waiting for you, not for me. Where *is* this place?"

"I don't know," Rogue glanced around them.  The farther they walked, the
darker it got as trees pressed in on them from every side. Jubilee had been
kicked out of Girl Scouts after making up obscene lyrics to the tune of
"Make New Friends" and starting a petition for a shopping merit badge. All
she knew was the trees were tall, probably really old, and making her feel
claustrophobic. "But it feels ... familiar. I don't remember ever being
here, but there's just something about it."

"Maybe one of your head cases was here once?"

Rogue looked startled, then cursed as she tripped over a tree root. Celeste
stopped in her tracks and turned to glare at them.

"You must be quiet," she ordered softly.

"Why?" Rogue stuck her hands on her hips and glared back, but she kept her
voice  level with Celeste's.  "Why do we have to be quiet?"

Surprisingly, instead of the usual smirk, they got an answer this time.
After glancing back at Risa, Celeste said slowly. "There is an enemy camp
nearby. We must pass without attracting attention."

Without any more explanation, she turned and continued walking. Jubilee
noticed that Celeste's passing made no noise and seemed, to her untrained
eye, to leave no mark. Obviously Celeste was a Girl Scout, or the
alternate-universe version of one.

Jubilee leaned closer to Rogue. "We have enemies? That can't be good."

"Agreed," Rogue whispered. "I guess I'll have to give Barbie the
satisfaction of following her orders."

"Life's a bitch, chica."

***

After the last glimmer of light vanished from between the leaves of the
trees, the terrible two finally called a halt to the march. Jubilee felt
certain her feet were both frozen solid and on fire. The many other aches
and pains in her body paled in comparison. But she refused to complain
because she didn't want Celeste and Risa to know how tired she was and
because she knew Rogue's feet had to be in much worse shape. Yet her friend
didn't utter a word of complaint.

Jubilee was an X-Woman, and she wasn't going to let some
Star-Trek-meets-Robin-Hood bimbos best her. Still, she barely contained a
groan as she sank to the ground beside Rogue.

Her friend gave her a weak smile. "OK, Jubes?"

"Never better," Jubilee said. "All I'm missing is food, water, a warm bed,
twelve pairs of socks --" She gasped and jerked back as a small bag was
dropped in her lap.

Celeste frowned down at her. "Eat. Even you cannot eat and speak at the same
time," she said in a low voice.

Rogue chuckled. "You don't know her as well as I do."

Jubilee smacked her friend. "Way to stand up for me," she began before
Celeste gestured at her to eat. Rolling her eyes, she opened the bag.
"Yum."

"What is it?" Rogue asked quietly.

"Jerky of some kind. I think I won't ask where it came from."  She grabbed a
piece and started chewing on it, then passed the bag to Rogue.

The enemies were apparently still nearby, and Risa wouldn't allow them to
have a fire. Still, Jubilee fell right to sleep after eating, wrapped in the
cloak. She convinced Rogue that it would be safe to sleep next to her,
back-to-back, to help keep them warm without taking a chance that she'd be
zapped by Rogue's power.

Risa and Celeste were taking turns keeping watch; they obviously didn't
trust Jubilee and Rogue to protect them. Which, in turn, was fine with them.
They needed the sleep, anyway.

Jubilee felt that she'd just fallen asleep when someone shook her awake.
Before she could say anything, a hand went over her mouth. "Be silent," Risa
said softly. "We must go."

Rogue was already awake, standing next to Celeste, looking at something on
the ground. Jubilee stood up quietly, rearranging her cloak around her
shoulders. She crept closer. There was a person on the ground, a man. She
came up beside Rogue. The man was unconscious; she could see him breathing,
so he wasn't dead. He wore what looked like a uniform of some kind. A dark
color, maybe, though it was hard to tell in the faint moonlight that shown
through the trees.

Jubilee looked at Rogue, who leaned close to her ear. "Enemy soldier.
Celeste knocked him out."

Jubilee began to feel uneasy. What if they were on the wrong side? She'd
kind of assumed that the Good Guys had picked them up outside of the cave,
but what if she was wrong? Just because they were looking for Rogue didn't
mean they were on the right side.

Risa touched her shoulder. "We must go," she said again. Rogue and Celeste
nodded in synch, and Jubilee shrugged. She hoped her bunny slippers were up
to the challenge.

They'd been walking for 20 minutes, slowly picking up speed as the trail
seemed to smooth out, when they heard sounds of pursuit behind them.
Indistinct voices were yelling back and forth. It was difficult to tell in
the forest, but they sounded too close for Jubilee's comfort.

Celeste began to jog in front of them, and Jubilee and Rogue exchanged a
glance and followed suit. Suddenly, the blonde vanished from the trail. The
two immediately slowed, picking their way carefully forward in case there
was something they hadn't been warned about. Troll, werewolf, 500-foot
dropoff, something like that.

At the same time, they both spied Celeste's arm off to the left side of the
path, waving them to follow her. Carefully, they eased into the brush.
Jubilee bit back a curse as someone -- Celeste, no doubt -- yanked her arm.
A thin branch hooked her cloak and scratched her other arm, and she narrowly
missed having her eye put out by another one.

She was shoved to the ground next to Rogue, who was huddling with her cloak
wrapped around her, trying to untangle her long hair from the prickly
bushes. Celeste slid down next to her, and Jubilee didn't know whether to be
relieved or scared that she had both of her knives out.

Risa suddenly appeared out of thin air, wrapping her cloak around her and
nearly melting into the brush. Maybe 10 minutes later, a group of men
tramped past them on the path. They apparently weren't very good at
searching, since they didn't look to the right or the left, only forward.
They weren't very quiet, either. A herd of elephants would've made less
noise.

Jubilee decided right then and there that soldiers that careless must be the
Bad Guys. She started to stir, but Celeste clamped a hand, knife and all, on
Jubilee's arm. Without taking her eyes away from the path, she shook her
head. Jubilee looked over at Rogue, who shrugged.

They waited. And waited. Jubilee got a cramp in her hip. Still Celeste
didn't move. Jubilee shifted, wanting to stretch her leg and hip. Her
bladder began to nag. Celeste stared at the path. Just as she was about to
stand up, permission or no, Jubilee heard something from the path.

It was barely there, a whisper of a sound. A breath, or a foot sliding
slightly on the ground. She froze, cramp forgotten, though there was now a
distinct possibility that she would pee her pants. Celeste adjusted her grip
on her knives and shifted soundlessly beside Jubilee.

Suddenly, she could see a figure, a dark shadow of a person, through the
brush. He was creeping along, studying the path and the forest on either
side. Jubilee's heart began to pound. It was like the nightmare she'd had as
a child, when a faceless bogeyman was chasing her, while she stood frozen,
unable to move.

The shadow man came nearer, stopping to kneel down and look at the path. His
head turned, and he looked right at her. She couldn't see eyes, but she
could feel them digging into her, feel his sense of triumph at catching his
prey. She wanted to yell, get up and blast the bastard, but her body wasn't
cooperating with her.

It happened so quickly, she only had an impression. The arrow flew out of
the brush next to her and hit the shadow man, who crumpled to the ground.
Risa motioned for them to wait, then moved cautiously onto the path. After a
few minutes of silence, she waved at them.

Jubilee let out a breath she hadn't remembered holding, and got to her feet.
Rogue caught her when her cramped hip sent her wobbling. She waited for
Celeste to make a snarky comment, but the blonde merely steadied her from
the other side before picking her way out of the underbrush.

Jubilee and Rogue followed her, and all four knelt around the dead shadow
man. Who was, Jubilee noted in surprise, just that.

A shadow.

She'd assumed that the low morning light had simply made the man look dark,
but in fact his entire body was black and apparently hairless. He wore only
a baggy pair of black pants and black boots, and there was a curiously
rounded look to all his features. Strangely, as she watched, parts of his
skin faded to a pale color, then back to dark.

"Who the hell was he?" Rogue asked.

"*Donte*," Risa whispered.

"Dante? That's his name?" Jubilee frowned. "Did you know this guy?"

"He is *donte*," Risa said. "It means, 'shadowed ones.' They are hunters,
able to blend into any surroundings."

"Handy Gift," Rogue commented, standing up.

Celeste stood up, too. "It is no Gift," she said angrily. "It is no
*natural* Gift. He was made, not born."

"What --" Jubilee began, only to be interrupted.

"The troops may return when he does not join them," Risa said. "We must go."

After gathering their things, and allowing time for a brief call of nature,
the four set out along the path. This time, Risa disappeared in front of
them, to keep an eye out for the soldiers.  After perhaps half an hour, she
returned, just as the path ended at an open field. The soldiers were nowhere
in view, but Risa urged them to cross the field at a run.

Jubilee sighed and barely kept up with the rest. Bunny slippers weren't made
to run, she decided, wondering how on earth Rogue was handling all this
barefoot. She was dead tired, but there was something lovely about being out
in the open again. The sun shone bright, warming her instantly, and the air
seemed to be fresher, lighter out here.

She hadn't realized how oppressive the forest had been, and she wanted to
laugh out loud at the free feeling bubbling up inside her. That was easily
tamped down when she saw that Risa was leading them into another edge of the
blasted forest. Her brief moment of happiness blew out of her in a wordless
growl.

Rogue, right next to her, chuckled softly. "I second that," she murmured.

Celeste and Risa didn't even bother to turn and glare at them for talking or
not keeping up; they simply vanished into the woods. After a minor
hesitation, Jubilee followed them, Rogue bringing up the rear.

There wasn't even a path, just trees and bushes crammed impossibly close
together, with scraggly underbrush filling in the empty spaces. Jubilee
followed Celeste's movements exactly and found that there was a path of
sorts, though it seemed to be carefully hidden and needed to be cautiously
navigated. Easing between trees and brush, weaving in a distinct pattern and
trying not to snag her cloak on anything, it took Jubilee fifteen minutes to
cover probably 10 feet. It took Rogue a bit longer, when she got her hair
twisted and tangled around a branch that almost seemed to come out of
nowhere.

Jubilee helped her friend rescue the hair, grinning at Rogue's promises to
hack the hair off at the first opportunity, and they joined the other two on
the path. A blessedly wide, lovely, smooth dirt path. Jubilee braced herself
for more walking, which wasn't a thrilling concept despite the nice path,
but this time they had barely begun before a roaring sound started to build
in the forest around them. A few minutes later, they entered a clearing with
a beautiful, tall waterfall beating down into a small river.

The sun beamed down on the lovely scene, glinting off the water and adding a
glimmer to the white foam of the waterfall. Rogue smiled at her, and she
wondered if her friend was thinking of their planned tropical vacation. This
clearing could've been a scene out of one of the brochures that she, Kitty
and Rogue had been pouring over for a month.

Rogue moved past Celeste and Risa, who were talking in low voices, and
nearly skipped up to the edge of the river, starting to kneel down. Jubilee
rushed up beside her, laughing. Both girls froze, even their breathing cut
off, as twin arrows flew at them from the direction of the waterfall and
drilled into the ground at their feet.


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue


6 Jean

As a child, Jean had fantasized about joining Alice through the looking
glass. For years, she couldn't pass by a mirror without sliding a hand
gently across the surface, sure that eventually she would find one mirror
that was a portal into another world. A world of adventure and excitement
and romance.

The reality wasn't nearly as pleasant as the fantasy.

Physically, she was fine, after a bout of dizziness and nausea, but she
couldn't seem to shake the feeling of *wrongness*. It pressed in on her
mind, throbbing and nagging in her head. She hadn't mentioned her feelings
to Scott or Logan, but it was almost as though she were having a premonition
of danger, though she'd never experienced such a strong one before.

As she trudged through the boonies after Logan, she tried to dismiss it as a
looking glass hangover, but it lingered, whispering in a language she
couldn't understand. Jean sighed and glanced back at Scott, who sent her a
tired grin. The nausea had hit him harder than her, and she could tell by
looking that he wasn't over it.

"Logan," she said softly, repeating herself twice before he turned back.

Logan had experienced no nausea, no dizziness, either because of his healing
factor or because he was from this place. Either way, it was hard not to
resent how ... healthy he looked when she felt like she'd been run over by a
bus and Scott was a few minutes from the dry heaves again.

"What?" Logan was impatient. He'd barely been willing to wait for Jean and
Scott to recover from the trip here before he'd had them off and running. He
seemed to know where he was going; Jean only hoped that was really the case.
She didn't have the energy left to worry about it.

"We need to rest," she said in the firm I'm-the-adult-and-I-said-so voice
she used on the students when they got out of control.

She thought for a moment he would argue, but his eyes darted back to Scott,
and he finally nodded. "You two get some sleep," he said. "A couple hours.
I'll keep watch."

Jean wanted to ask what he was watching for, but she decided she didn't want
to know. And when Scott curled up next to her on the cold ground, an arm
lightly around her middle, she couldn't bring herself to push him away.




Rogue

Enough was enough, Rogue thought. She was in a strange world. She'd gone
without sleep or real food, freezing her ass off and hiking half the night
even though her bare feet had gone beyond simple pain at this point. She'd
been chased by soldiers and essentially taken prisoner by a couple of young
girls. Now she had people shooting at her?

"You cowardly bastards, get out here and fight like men!" she shouted,
disregarding the danger and standing up, jamming her hands on her hips.

"*Rogue*," Jubilee gasped, tugging on her cloak like a little kid trying to
get mommy's attention.

Rogue scanned the area around the waterfall, halfway expecting another
volley of arrows. As she noticed what might be a ledge high up and to the
left of the waterfall, it finally registered that Risa was laughing behind
her.

"Nice shots, Thomas, Phillip," Risa called. "But I believe you have been
challenged to a fight!"

Sure enough, a man's head poked through the wall of leaves around the ledge.
He grinned down at them. "We are on duty right now, Risa Battim. Perhaps
later!"

"You two, hush," Celeste hissed. "Have you forgotten who may be following
us?"

Rogue rolled her eyes as Celeste and Risa started to argue again. At this
rate, she'd be 30 before they ever got to meet the mysterious Sidre.
"Ladies?" she said loudly.

Risa grinned. "I am sorry, Rogue. We love to argue so, sometimes we forget
ourselves. It is this way."

Rogue exchanged a glance with Jubilee as Risa vanished into a thicket of
leaves below the ledge. The girls sighed in unison and followed. If she made
it through this adventure without poison ivy, Rogue thought, it would be a
miracle.

Behind the cluster of leaves, a sturdy-looking rope ladder took them to the
hidden ledge. It was wider than Rogue had imagined, with plenty of room for
the two young men and several bags of supplies.

The man who had yelled at Risa grinned at the girls, who hadn't quite
realized the power of his smile from below. He had an angel's face, with
blond curls and blue eyes to match. Something about his grin suggested that
there was a little devil in him as well. Before he could say a word, Celeste
smacked him on the arm. "Are you here to flirt or to keep watch?" she asked.

The man's grin widened. "Jealous, Celeste?" he laughed. "You should know my
heart belongs only to you."

"In your dreams, rat," Celeste snapped, but Rogue noted with interest that
she was blushing. Jubilee smirked.

"I think she likes you, too, Thomas," Risa said, laughing.

Celeste hustled them away from the men and further along the ledge. After a
few feet, it narrowed to half its previous width, but that still left plenty
of room to walk. A few more feet led them through a mist of water and under
the waterfall. Behind the waterfall, it was fairly dark and cool, but Rogue
had little trouble following Celeste. She suspected that passing through at
night would be another matter altogether, and yet she had the strange
feeling that she had already done so. Shaking off the deja vu, she followed
Celeste through a cavelike passage and out into a wooded area. A few minutes
of walking led them into the sun again.

This time, they came out into a wide-open field, and Celeste picked up
speed, charging through the grass. Apparently whatever enemies they were
expecting were nowhere to be found. Rogue followed, spotting a cluster of
buildings in the distance. She sighed silently. Maybe she could finally find
out where they were. And get something to wear on her feet.

She would die before she'd ever admit it in front of Celeste, but her feet
were bruised, cut and aching, and she wasn't even sure she could fit in her
shoes if she had them. The good news was, the pain in her knee had seemed to
work itself out rather than getting worse. Of course, who knew what would
happen if she stopped for any length of time?

As if she could read Rogue's mind, Jubilee came up beside her and threw an
arm around her shoulder. Rogue noticed that her friend was looking a little
tired, but she still had her usual exuberance around the edges. "I think
we're almost there, babe. I don't suppose they'll have a mall so we could
buy some clothes?"

Rogue laughed. "They seem like a pretty mall-less society."

"That's what I figured," Jubilee sighed. "How do they even survive?"

"It boggles the mind."

Less than 10 minutes later, they came upon the village. Risa had told them
it was called Fairfield, which seemed to fit. Now that they were closer,
Rogue could see that it was bigger than she had imagined. The buildings,
most of them made from stone, were lined along a dirt street that twisted
past clusters of trees. She couldn't see how far back they stretched. Dozens
of people walked the streets, along with several horses and a couple of
wagons. At their end of the street, a wider area made what looked like a
park. Smaller trees were arranged around the edges, and several wooden
benches were grouped in the center. A group of women wearing long dresses
waited for them there.

Rogue knew immediately which one was Sidre. She stood in the middle of the
group, taller by several inches than the other four women, silver-white hair
twisted into braids on her head. Her age would be impossible to gauge,
though something suggested that she possessed years of wisdom. She wore a
plain, brown dress and had her hands folded at her waist.

It wasn't her looks that convinced Rogue, however. There was an aura around
her. Even standing perfectly still, just watching them, she had presence. A
charisma. The feeling that this was the person In Charge.

Jubilee came to the same conclusion. Practically hopping, she jumped to a
place in front of the woman. "You're Sidre, yes? I'm Jubilee. This is Rogue.
We came through a mirror, of all things. We're starving, and tired, and we
need some clothes, and we would like to know where we are." She paused and
glanced back at Rogue, who shrugged. "Please," she added.

The woman smiled, and Rogue felt like the sun had increased by half. She
reached out a hand and ran it down Jubilee's arm before moving to Rogue.
"You are late," she said, still smiling. "Where is your guardian?"

"My ... guardian?" Rogue looked at Jubilee. "I ... ah. Well, the professor
*was* my guardian, but I'm 21 now, so ..."

Sidre stopped smiling, and Rogue felt like a kid who'd disappointed her
mother. She hated that feeling. "Where is this place? What the hell am I
doing here, anyway?"

The older woman looked surprised, and Rogue had the feeling that was a rare
event.  Before Rogue could ask anything else, however, Celeste spoke.

"She cannot control her Gift, either," the blonde said, wisely keeping her
personal feelings on the subject out of her voice. Rogue suspected that
Sidre knew her feelings, anyway.

Sidre sighed, and for a moment Rogue saw her as older than she had
suspected. "Celeste, your parents are waiting for you," she said finally.
"And Risa, I know your brother will be happy you are back."

"Hmmph," Risa said. "Alyn no doubt has his head stuck in another book." Her
voice sounded annoyed, but the look on her face said otherwise. There was
nothing but love on her face, and with a quick squeeze of Rogue's
cloak-covered arm, she raced off into the village. Celeste followed more
slowly, casting a glance back their way before disappearing down the street.

Bitch probably wanted to hear how disappointed this Sidre was in Inadequate
Rogue. Well, Rogue never asked to come to this freaky place, and she was
sorely regretting that she hadn't returned home as soon as she woke up.
Jubilee was right, they should have gone back for help.

"Are you finished?" Sidre asked politely.

"Finished?"

"Feeling sorry for yourself." Sidre raised an eyebrow at her, just like
Logan would do. The thought made her angry.

"Excuse me?" Rogue growled. "I have no idea where I am. I'm cold and tired.
My feet are killing me, I'm wearing my freaking pajamas and everyone seems
to be harping on the fact that I can't control my skin. A fact of which I am
well aware. If I seem a little upset, Get. Over. It."

"That's better," Sidre said, nodding. "Angry is better than pathetic."

"Path--" Rogue started to object, but Sidre turned away from her and
motioned to the youngest-looking of the four women, probably in her 30s,
standing by. "Abby, please take Jubilee to my house for a bath. See if you
can find some clothing for her." For the first time, Sidre seemed to take in
her whole appearance, bunny slippers and all. "And shoes as well, please."

"Uh-uh," Jubilee said. "Sorry, lady, we girls stick together."

Sidre smiled. "Do not worry, Jubilee. I must take your friend ... Rogue ...
to our Healer before her feet become any worse."

"It's OK, Jubes," Rogue said softly. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Good. You're my one-way ticket home, babe," Jubilee said lightly. Though
she still looked worried, she allowed Abby to lead her away.

Sidre took Rogue's arm. "I know you have many questions," she said briskly.
"But they will have to wait. Once you have been Healed, I would imagine a
bath and a bed will keep you busy until I can find out what is going on."

Rogue was suddenly too tired to argue.


Jamie
~*~
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000

Look for story information in part 1.

*some violence in this chapter*


Chapter 23

The party started as a success. All the students of the Xavier-
institute had come, and everyone was having a great time.
   The professor and Magneto had come, like they promised, and Scott
was there, plus Ororo. But Rogue noticed that Ororo looked like she
had been crying her eyes out. She had tried her best to conceal the
fact, with make up, powder, etc. She bravely tried to appear happy,
but did not manage especially well.
   Rogue had wanted to go to her and ask what was wrong, but she
didn't really find the courage to do so. Whatever it was, Storm must
have her reasons to be sad, and she might not want to talk about it.
   Doctor Lecter arrived as well, a little later than the others,
gliding like a cat in his dark silk suit. He politely greeted Erik
and the professor, and then moved on to have a drink.
   The only one not there yet was Jean. But everyone recalled that she
had said she might be a little late, because she had to stay in the
med-lab and produce more of Rogue's serum.
   Almost everyone wanted to talk to Rogue and congratulate her, and
some people also admired her new, exclusive look. They had never seen
good old Marie like that before. She, who used to walk around in worn-
out jeans and who never wore any make up.
   She danced with John two times in a row, after unsuccessfully
trying to drag Logan out on the dance floor.
   - No, I don't dance, he had said, and actually sounded embarrassed.
   - Not even for me? Rogue asked and tried to look grumpy.
   - Honey, I do many things for you, but I don't dance.
   So Marie had to dance with John instead. He was in fact not a bad
dancer, especially to the faster songs.
   After dancing with John for the third time, Rogue went to have a
drink. She poured some Coke into a plastic mug, and drank everything
in just a few gulps. All the dancing had made her thirsty.
   - Are you enjoying yourself? she suddenly heard a voice say behind
her, and doctor Lecter slid forth, holding a glass of champagne.
   - Very, Rogue said, smiling. And you?
   - Yes, very much, the doctor said. But I am sorry that Ororo is so
down. I had wished her to be happy at your party.
   - Do you know why she's sad? asked Rogue.
   - We had a little argument. She doesn't want me to leave, but I
have to.
   - When are you leaving?
   - Tomorrow, probably.
   - You... eh... care much for Ororo, don't you?
   Doctor Lecter nodded. - Yes. I do. Very much. Do I get the honour
to dance with you? he asked then, offering Rogue his hand.
   - I'd love to, she smiled and followed doctor Lecter out on the
dance floor.
   He danced really well. You could almost believe that the doctor was
a professional dancer. Rogue had a hard time keeping up with him,
despite that she was young and he was old.
   He must be extremely fit, she thought, and was almost happy when
the song ended.
   Charles and Erik sat in a corner by themselves, with their drinks,
watching as the younger people danced and interacted. Charles sighed.
   - If only I could dance, he said and even looked a little nostalgic
and melancholy. I used to think it was so fun before... well, you
know.
   - Hmm, Erik said, sounding sympathetic. But we are too old for that
now anyway. We will have to find other ways to amuse ourselves. If
one were as fit as Hannibal Lecter! He is 63 years old, but he moves
like a fit 20-year-old! You could almost believe he is a mutant!
   Charles' brows went up. - Are you certain that he isn't? he said,
and suddenly sounded interested.
   Erik shrugged. - In case he is, he doesn't care. But that doesn't
really matter, does it? He is leaving tomorrow, and you don't have to
see him anymore after that.
   - I didn't mean that, Charles said. I just... schh, now I think we
should drop this subject. Can we leave? I believe that this party was
meant for the younger ones. We can go to our room, and... amuse
ourselves. What do you say, Erik?
   Magneto smiled wryly, and placed his hand on Xavier's upper thigh
and squeezed it through the fabric. Charles could not feel it, but
still he thought he could feel the warmth and tenderness of Erik's
hand.
   - That was not a bad idea, Charles, he said knowingly, still with
the same, wry smile. I believe we can find something that we both
like, eh?
   Charles placed his hand atop Erik's, still resting on his thigh.
   - Come, he said and waited for Erik to get up.
   He manoeuvred his wheelchair toward the dining hall exit, and Erik
was walking by his side.
   - Leaving already? Logan asked in surprise, when he walked past
them, with a half-full beer can in his hand.
   - We are too old for parties like this, said Magneto. You will have
to keep enjoying yourselves without us.
   - I think we can do that... Logan muttered as he saw them leave the
dining hall, and the party, to "amuse themselves". Logan was pretty
sure they were going to have sex. He could smell those things.
_____________________________

Mystique was sitting in a car, driving toward Westchester. She looked
resolute and she kept her eyes sternly focused on the road. Inside,
her soul and mind were black with fury.
   He can't treat me like this, she repeated to herself. He can't
treat me like shit. I won't allow it. I'll teach him that I won't
take more of his bullshit! Who the hell does he think he is?! He's
gonna pay for this. This time I'll really show you, my little Magneto!
   She wasn't sure what to do yet, to take vengeance upon Magneto, but
she was thinking fervently.
   There was a party as Xavier's. Had Erik not told it was for Rogue?
   How the hell can a party be more important than I am? Mystique
thought angrily. Or then the party was not the true reason why he
chose to stay. Probably it was Xavier himself.
   Do you love him? she thought meanly while she drove, and thought
about what she was going to say to Erik next time they met.
   She wanted to hurt him, like he had hurt her, but she knew that
that couldn't be done by words alone. This required actions.
   Making him jealous would not work either. What if she seduced
Xavier? No, she thought then. That would never work. Xavier would
never fall for it - he was a telepath, after all - and Mystique
realized that it wasn't anything she wanted to do either.
   The mere thought of him disgusted her. How was it really, to have
sex with a paralysed man? Yuck! How could Erik do it?
   He did it for 25 years before he even met you, Mystique reminded
herself. He is used to it, I guess.
   But that hardly made it any better. She got closer and closer to
Westchester, and a plan was forming in her head.
____________________________

It was nine o'clock, and Charles and Erik had left. Jean had not
showed up yet, and the party seemed to have calmed down a bit.
   Fewer people were up dancing, and many of those who had been
dancing before, were instead sitting down, talking, as they ate
sweets, popcorn, or drank some soda.
   Doctor Lecter was there, and seemed to enjoy himself. He had danced
with Rogue once more, and surprised them all with his agile movement
and quick steps. It was impossible to believe that he was already 63.
   Scott started to get annoyed. Where the hell was Jean? Had she not
promised to come?
   Scott didn't like Hannibal Lecter. Surely it had been "noble" of
him to help with the serum, but Cyclops refused to believe that he
did it from kindness. There must be some other reason beneath.
   And he seemed to have caused Ororo grief. Scott had barely spoken
with her during the evening, but it was still obvious that she *was*
sad, since she kept to herself and shot sad, furtive looks at
Hannibal Lecter every now and then.
   He should never have been allowed in here, Scott thought irritably.
It seems like the Xavier-institute is more and more becoming a refuge
for terrorists, and now also serial killers.
   Well, he could tolerate Magneto, but Hannibal Lecter was simply too
much. It would be great too see him leaving tomorrow, as planned.
   Suddenly Scott saw Jean come walking toward him across the dining
hall. She was smiling, and was clad in a pretty, white lace blouse,
which one could almost see through, and tight blue jeans. Those were
clothes he had never seen her wear before.
   - Hi, Scott, said Jean, still smiling, when she reached him.
   - Hi, Jean. Have you bought new clothes?
   Jean just shrugged her shoulders, without answering. Her smile
became forced.
   - Was there much to do in the lab, since you're so late? Scott
asked.
   - The lab?
   - Yes, with Rogue's serum. Is it done now? You are coming from down
there, right?
   - Yeah, right, she said and looked like she just thought of
something.
   - Jean? Scott said, now sounding concerned. Are you alright? You
seem a little... confused.
   Jean nodded. - Yeah, everything's fine. Scott, you don't happen to
know where Charles and Erik are, do you?
   - They left over half an hour ago. Are you sure you're alright,
Jean?
   - You know what...I'm not... I just thought of I forgot something
down in the lab. I have to go down and fix it. See you later.
   She turned around to leave again, but Scott grabbed her by the arm.
   - Jean! You only just arrived! What's the matter?
   Jean tore loose. - Just one thing. I'm alright. I'll be right back.
   After saying those words, she ran away from Scott without even
looking back at him.
   - Jean! he called after her, but received no reply. What's wrong
with you?
__________________________

Mystique kept Jean Greys appearance until she was safe inside the
elevator which would bring her down to the med-lab. She laughed at
Cyclops while she was standing there, back in her true shape.
   He seemed quite stupid, but you never knew. Perhaps he had grown
suspicious. Maybe she should have tried to be a little more... Jean?
   But she wasn't Jean. She was Raven Darkholme, and she was pissed.
She now knew what to do. When she arrived, her plan was to sneak
inside Xavier's bedroom and confront them in there, face to face. But
that was not a good idea. This was.
   The subterranean floor was quiet and dark. Raven imagined hearing
the pounding of the music from the dining hall above. She sneaked out
of the elevator and headed for the med-lab.
   She knew where it was. She had been down here before. Then her plan
had been to destroy Cerebro.
   Now it wasn't. The thought was tempting, but the med-lab was a
better idea. It would affect Rogue, but so be it. She really had no
part in this, but still she would be affected.
   Mystique stood in front of the entrance to the lab and morphed into
Jean Grey again. When the retinal scanner scanned her eye, she was
obviously going to get inside, since the doors slid apart and she was
free to enter, she was told by a computer generated voice.
   Mystique smiled a triumphant smile to herself. Now she could
finally start. And no one could stop her.
__________________________

Jean tried to correct her dress while she walked. She realized she
was late, and she was sorry for it. Making the serum had taken longer
than she could have imagined, since doctor Lecter hadn't been there
to help her now.
   She threw a quick glance at her wristwatch. 9:15 P.M.
   Very well. Maybe she would at least have time to be in on
*something*.
   After coming up from the lab, she had gone straight to her and
Scott's room to shower and tidy herself. It had taken almost 30
minutes. Now all nasty chemical smells were gone, and Jean was
elegantly dressed in a tight, wine-red evening gown.
   When she arrived at the dining hall, Scott approached her at once.
He seemed surprised at seeing her there.
   - Jean! he exclaimed. Back already? How about the thing you were
going to fix? And you've changed clothes! How could you do all that
in less than ten minutes?
   Jean looked like a live question mark.
   - But, she said confusedly, I just came up. What are you talking
about, Scott? I haven't been here before. I just come here from my
room.
   - What are *you* talking about? said Scott. You were just here ten
minutes ago and said you had to go back down to the lab to fix
something. Don't you remember? And now you've changed your clothes.
How could you have time?
   Jean shook her head. - No, that's not right. I have was here ten
minutes ago. Then I was in the shower!
   - But then who...-
   Jean closed her eyes and focused on reading Scott's mind to
understand what he was talking about.
   She encountered a mental image of herself, wearing something she
had never seen before, talking to Scott and incoherently explaining
that she had "forgotten" something in the lab, and had to go down to
fix it.
   The scene had taken place roughly ten minutes ago, like Scott said.
Then Jean had been standing in the shower.
   Suddenly her eyes fluttered open and the telepathic connection was
cut off at once.
   Jean wasn't sure, but it was the only way. She grabbed Scott's arm
roughly and felt the panic ooze within her.
   - Scott, she said, trying to sound calm despite that she
understood. That was not me. It was Mystique. I don't know how, or
why, but she is going down to the med-lab.
   - Mystique! cried Scott. But how...-
   - Quiet! Get Logan and Ororo and go down there at once! Whatever
she is planning, we have to stop her! I'll get Charles and Magneto.
   Jean released Scott's arm and turned around to run out again, but
Scott, who hadn't yet quite realized, stopped her.
   - Jean! Wait! Are you sure? he said.
   - Stop her, before it's too late! Jean called and hurried out of
the dining hall as quickly as she possibly could, wearing a long gown
and high-heeled shoes.
   She ran toward Charles' room. She had the same thought in her head
the whole time. Don't let her do any harm! Don't let her...
   Jean pulled open the door to Charles' bedroom, without either
knocking or calling beforehand. Usually she hadn't even considered
doing anything like that, but this wasn't any usual case. This was an
emergency.
   - Charles! she called. Erik!
   Charles Xavier and Magneto lay in the bed, with their naked bodies
entangled, and their mouths locked in a fervent and passionate kiss.
Charles lay under Erik with his legs splayed, and his hands eagerly
caressing his lover's body, as they moved in rhythm and had sex.
   But Jean's shrill and terrified voice made them stiffen. They broke
the kiss and turned their heads in the direction of the door and
Jean's voice. The expression on their faces could not be described by
any words.
   - Charles, Erik... you have to come, Jean said with strain, and
tried to ignore the fact that she was standing there, staring, as
mentor and teacher had a very intimate moment with his lover.
   - Jean... Charles managed to say, like he still didn't quite
believe she was actually standing there.
   - Mystique's here, Jean said. She has gone down to the med-lab.
Come right away. She's going to destroy something.
   When Erik heard her mention Mystique's name, his facial expression
changed. A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows and the look in his
eyes became hard and determined.
   - I suspected this... he murmured. That she...
   He pulled out of Charles so quickly that a popping noise sounded
from them, and then jumped out of bed and started looking for his
clothes. Charles remained in the bed, confused and a bit shocked,
with his paralysed legs still spread, since he couldn't close them by
himself.
   Erik looked at Jean. - Go down there. We'll come. Be careful. She
is furious and frustrated. We'll be there as quickly as we can.
   - But... Jean began doubtfully.
   - Go, Erik said. It sounded like an order, and Jean couldn't other
than obey. Magneto knew best how to tackle Mystique, and they needed
him. Jean turned around and ran.
____________________________

Scott had managed to talk Logan and Ororo into going down to the lab
and see what went on down there.
   Rogue had wanted to come too, but Logan didn't allow it.
   - You'll stay here, he said. If there's anything wrong, we can
handle it.
   - But I can be useful! Rogue objected. I can fight!
   - I'm thinking about your safety, Logan said then. Stay here. I'll
take care of Mystique!
   - But...
   Then suddenly Scott interfered. - Marie, stay here, he said with
his so-professional-fearless-leader voice. This is your party. Stay
here and take care of your guests.
   She had wanted to come with further objections, but she knew it
would be useless. If Scott had decided something, she could not
change it. But it annoyed her that everyone just kept on treating her
like some small and helpless kid.
   Scott, Logan and Ororo hurried away. Rogue stayed, in her fancy
evening gown, and elegant hairdo, to take care of the party. What
party, anyway?
   As the three mutants stood in the elevator they tried to think of
what they would do if it appeared to be Mystique.
   - Just hope Cerebro isn't her target again, Ororo said anxiously,
and had seemed to forget how sad she was for the moment.
   - She said she was going to the med-lab, said Scott. But that might
just have been something she said. We know nothing of what she really
planned.
   - Where did Jeannie go? Logan asked irritably. Shouldn't she be
here helping us?
   - She was going to get the professor and Magneto, Scott explained.
   Then Logan just snorted. - Good luck... he muttered.
   When the elevator finally stopped and the doors were opened, Logan
sniffed in the air and his look grew stern at once. Having superhuman
senses might be an advantage. - She's been here, he hissed. I can
smell her! I never forget that smell. Come one!
   He took the lead and started jogging along the dark, quiet
corridor. Every now and then he sniffed in the air around him to feel
if he could still catch Mystique's scent.
   - Getting anything? Scott asked.
   - This way, Logan said.
   Cerebro had not been Mystique's target this time. Logan followed
the scent trail, and it was leading straight to the med-lab, just as
they believed.
   Before they went in, Logan extracted his claws. //Snikt// The two
other mutants saw them gleam in the faint illumination.
   They looked into each other's eyes before Cyclops nodded shortly at
the other two, and they went in.
   The sight they were encountered by shocked them. Mystique had
already managed to cause great devastation. When the three X-men,
minus Jean, entered, she was breaking their X-ray machine with a fire-
extinguisher. There was broken glass everywhere, chemicals were
spread over the floor, and Jean's desk, with all its contents, had
been smashed.
   Torn papers, together with other objects, were also on the floor,
mixed with pieces of glass and chemicals.
   When she heard them come, she spun around and stared into their
faces. The fire-extinguisher froze in her hands. She was in her true
shape now, and her yellow, cat-like eyes seemed to glow in her blue
face.
   - Drop the fire-extinguisher, Mystique, Scott said in an icily calm
voice, as he brought his hand to his visor.
   Now she grinned contemptuously, and her teeth seemed to glow as
well.
   - What else? What will you do, momma-boy? Blast me? she said.
   - Want to find out? Scott replied, sounding more threatening this
time. Be wise, Mystique. Don't make it worse than it already is.
   - Tell that to that fucking cocksucker! cried Mystique in reply,
seething with anger. This is all his fault! Right now he's probably
fucking your dear professor through the mattress! Tell that to him!
He's ruined my life!
   They all realized she was referring to Magneto, before she suddenly
raised the fire-extinguisher and threw it right at them, followed by
another furious cry.
   It hit Ororo's left shoulder, and she sank down, screaming, and
then whining with pain.
   Logan reacted in a flash. He lunged at Mystique, with his right
hand raised, and claws extracted, but she saw him come, and jumped
over the smashed X-ray machine to avoid him.
   Logan slashed at her. He missed. His claws got stuck in the
machine's screen, and it took him some time to get them out again. In
the meantime Mystique had gotten beyond his reach.
   She realized that her plan had failed, and the smartest thing would
be to run, so she headed for the exit. Logan ran after her
immediately, but Mystique was fast, and they both realized that he
would not get her that way.
   Scott intervened. He threw at her from the right and managed to
knock her to the floor with his speed and body weight.
   Mystique wriggled and twisted like a snake underneath him, and she
had great reflexes, despite that the fall had knocked her breath out.
She drove her knee into Scott's stomach and pushed him off of
herself, making him roll around several times on the floor.
   He moaned and coughed, and tried to hold his visor in place, so he
wouldn't drop it and become helpless.
   Logan came. Before Mystique could get to her feet, he grabbed her
by the ankle and pulled her back. She kicked him in the face with her
other foot, but even though it hurt, Logan did not let go of her.
With his other hand he grabbed her thigh and started pulling her
backward.
   Mystique screamed. Desperately her hands fumbled for something to
grab a hold of, and she got the fire-extinguisher, which she had
thrown at Storm before.
   Now she threw it at Logan instead. He tumbled backwards with a howl
and heard his own nose break. Of course he lost his hold of Mystique,
and she was back on her feet in no time.
   Storm had risen. She stood between Mystique and the exit, blocking
up her way. Her shoulder hurt terribly, but that didn't stop her from
being determined.
   For a moment the two women looked into each other's eyes. Mystique
was taller than Storm, considerably stronger and a better fighter.
There was not much weather for Ororo to manipulate in here now, so if
she wanted to stop Mystique, she had to go into a hand-to-hand
combat.
   Storm gritted her teeth and was at least going to try, no matter
what.
   - Move, bitch! hissed Mystique threateningly.
   - You'll have to do that! Ororo replied, raising her right fist,
ready to strike.
   - I will!
   Mystique took one step towards Ororo, and Ororo swung her fist in
order to hit her across the face, but Mystique was a lot faster. She
grabbed Storm's wrist and forced her hand back down. Ororo screamed.
   - This is for you, you stupid bitch! snorted Mystique and punched
Ororo in the face so hard she flew directly into the wall behind.
Remarkably dizzy, she sank down, moaning, with a split lower lip.
   Mystique saw her chance and was about to run through the exit, but
she didn't get any further.
   Suddenly she discovered that she couldn't move at all, and the next
second she was lifted into the air, until she was floating about 6
feet above the floor, incapable of doing anything but whining.
   Jean was fixating her with her gaze, and kept her suspended with
the help of telekinesis. She let Mystique hover in the air for some
more seconds, and tightened her grip so much that the other mutant
could hardly even breathe.
   Then she sent her flying straight through the med-lab, into a wall,
where she slammed violently, finally landing on the floor, directly
onto a heap of glass splinters.
   They heard her scream, but she did not get up now, but simply
wriggled and tried to crawl away from the splinters, which had
penetrated into her hands, forearms, thighs and buttocks.
   Scott crawled up to his feet. He felt sore and beaten, but was not
seriously hurt, except for a few bruises.
   Logan spat and grunted as he waited for his nose to heal up. He
looked at the entrance and saw Jean standing there, in the doorway,
still keeping her hand stretched out after throwing Mystique away.
   - Oh... Logan muttered. *Now* you're here? We had already needed
you sooner, so where were you?
   - I... Jean began, but did not finish the sentence. She let her
hand drop. Is everyone alright? she asked instead.
   - Yeah, I think so, Scott replied. All but her, will say, he added,
nodding at Mystique who was still lying on the floor, groaning with
pain. She wasn't trying to get up any longer, in the fear of another
telepathic attack from Jean.
   - Good, Jean said blankly.
   - But she did quite a good job destroying the lab, Scott pointed
out.
   Jean sighed and closed her eyes. Yes. She had. Really.
   Suddenly Logan got wild. He rushed to Jean and grabbed her roughly
by the shoulders, shaking her. - The serum! he hissed. Where'd you
keep it? Did you keep it here? Has it been destroyed?!
   - Yes, Jean replied. I kept it here, and now it has been destroyed.
   - No! Logan roared, and suddenly looked as though he was about the
throw Jean across the room, like it was her fault.
   - Calm down, Logan, said Jean. It will be okay. I know that this
production has been destroyed, but I have saved all our results on a
CD, which I keep in my private computer, up in my room. As soon as we
have replaced the equipment, I will be able to manufacture the serum
again.
   - How soon?
   - I don't know. When we have gotten new equipment.
   - That's terrific! Logan snapped and released Jean. All fucking
marvellous! I'll kill that blue bitch!
   - Now you calm down! hissed Jean and grabbed his arm. You are not
doing anything before Charles and Erik get here!
   Logan just shrugged, but didn't say anything. He snorted in
frustration, but had obviously decided not to kill Mystique anymore.
   Suddenly another person arrived. The others expected to see
Magneto, but it was doctor Lecter. His eyes widened when he noticed
the destruction in the lab.
   - Who did this? he asked in a low voice.
   - Please, go back up, Scott said impatiently. We don't need you
here right now.
   But doctor Lecter did not go up, but when he saw Ororo, who sat
slumped next to a wall, he rushed to her instead. Her face was white
with pain, and she was holding her left arm spasmodically hard.
   - Ororo, Hannibal said and kneeled next to her. How are you?
   - My arm... Storm whispered. It...hurts. Could it be broken?
   - Let me have a look. I am a doctor.
   - Does the arm need to be put in plaster? Ororo asked in a
trembling voice.
   - No, I don't think so, doctor Lecter replied before he had even
brushed her. When he touched her shoulder she gave out a cry.
   He was quite sure of what was the problem was. The arm was not
broken, anyway.
   - You don't need plaster at all, Ororo, he said. Your shoulder is
only dislocated. If you let me put it back in place, it will feel
better right away.
   Ororo looked hesitant. It hurt now, and it would hurt even more
when he put the shoulder back into its socket. But it would feel much
better afterwards.
   - Okay, he said faintly. But do you know how?
   - Yes. Of course I do. Don't worry. I have done this before. Clench
your teeth, now, my dear.
   Doctor Lecter grabbed Ororo by the wrist with one hand, and put the
other one against the bulge sticking up from her shoulder. Then he
pulled her arm, as he simultaneously pressed against her shoulder,
and a strange, crunching noise sounded.
   Ororo gave out a strangled cry.
   Everyone's eyes were suddenly focused on them. The others had
almost forgotten Ororo, and not noticed that she was sitting by the
wall, with a dislocated shoulder. Now they noticed her, and they also
heard the sound of her shoulder being put back in place.
   Scott rushed toward them. - What the hell are you doing? he yelled
at Hannibal, and nearly tore him off the floor, and away from Ororo.
   - Ororo's shoulder was dislocated, he replied with infinite
calmness, without even looking at Cyclops. I only put it back right.
   - Ororo? Scott asked, still suspicious.
   - It... it feels much better now, Hannibal... she breathed. Thank
you so much. It doesn't hurt at all now.
   - Can you stand up? Hannibal asked her.
   - Yes, I believe so...
   - Come, I'll help you. Lean against me.
   He put his arm around her shoulders and carefully helped her to her
feet. She gratefully leaned against him, pulling long, deep breaths.
Her face was still tense and strained, but the horrible pain in her
shoulder was gone, at least.
   Hannibal had barely noticed that the laboratory was smashed, and he
hadn't even seen Mystique's blue shape that lay in a heap next to one
wall. The only thing he thought about was taking care of Ororo.
____________________________

Charles and Erik were the last to arrive. It had taken Charles some
time to get dressed, in spite that Erik tried to help him as much as
he could.
   Charles only wore a pair of pyjama trousers and a robe; no shirt,
no underwear or even socks.
   Erik also wore a robe, and pyjama trousers, like Charles, but at
least he'd taken the time to put on a pair socks and slippers. The
floor could be cold when one was barefoot, but to Charles, who didn't
have his feet in the ground, it didn't matter. The hastily
interrupted intercourse, and the knowledge that Mystique was there,
making trouble, had left him shaky.
   - Oh, God... he whispered when he arrived in his wheelchair, and
saw what condition the med-lab was in. Oh, God...
   Erik came up behind him and put a soothing hand on his shoulder. He
was regarding the others with a dead-serious expression. His pale
blue eyes expressed cold anger.
   - Where is Raven? he asked calmly, but his voice could not conceal
his true mood. Magneto was almost furious.
   - She's lying over there, Scott replied casually, and nodded at the
wall in which Mystique had been thrown.
   Erik left Charles and started walking there, with long, resolute
steps. Mystique lifted her head when she saw him approach. She looked
up at him with her pained eyes and gasped.
   - Erik... she rattled and reached out a bloody hand in his
direction.
   Magneto pulled away as though she had been plague-stricken.
   - Do not touch me, he said coldly.
   - Erik... please... Take me out of here, she said miserably.
   - I didn't believe this about you, Raven. How could you go so low?
he proceeded in the same, icy voice. Do you know what you have done?
You have not only destroyed equipment for millions of dollars, but
also my last respect and trust in you. Was that your intention, Raven?
   - But Erik... I did it for you... for us...
   - There is no "us". And there never will be. Not now, and not ever.
Not in any way. You have made that clear.
   He kneeled next to her, grabbed a hold of her muddled, red hair
with his hand, and pulled it so roughly that her scalp hurt.
   Mystique grimaced and tried to turn her face away, but Erik forced
her to look into his eyes.
   - Look me in the eyes, he ordered, and she couldn't other than
obey.
   - Erik, I'm sorry... she snuffled.
   - Sorry? I think you should tell that to Rogue. It is primary her
life that you have ruined with this little trick. You don't have to
apologize to me. I don't ever want to see you again, he finished, and
then released her, rising to his feet again.
   - What are you planning to do with her? he asked Jean.
   - I don't know. We'll have to do something about her injuries, and
lock her into a hospital cell over the night, Jean replied. Or do you
have a better idea?
   - Do as you wish. I don't care, Magneto said wearily and went back
to Charles. The telepath still looked shocked, and was looking down
at his hands, which were shaking. Erik took his face between his
hands and turned it up against himself.
   - Darling? he said. Are you alright? I am so sorry, Charles. This
is partly my fault.
   - No, it is not, Charles replied. You couldn't know. But all this
equipment, and Rogue's serum... all is destroyed... How shall we be
able to tell her?
   - It will be alright, Erik tried. We'll think of something, okay?
   - Of course. But it won't be easy.
   In the meantime Jean tried to approach Mystique in order to have a
look at her injuries, but Mystique, being borderline hysterical, did
not let Jean come near her.
   - No!! she cried, hitting and kicking around herself. Don't touch
me, you fucking bitch! No! Don't come near me! Get away! You hear
me?! Get away from me! Don't touch me!
   - You are hurt, let me help you, Jean tried, matter-of-factly, but
for no use.
   - Get away, I said! Mystique howled. I don't need your help! Buzz
off!
   - Then don't, Jean said irritably. We'll see if you can pull out
all those splinters on your own, without my help. Go ahead and try.
   She went to bring her medicine kit, which had actually survived the
catastrophe, and quickly took out a syringe containing sedative.
   - Logan, she said and nodded at him, knowingly. Help me hold her.
   When Mystique saw their intention, she started screaming again, and
tried to crawl away, but Logan came there quickly and pressed her
down, while Jean brought the needle into her throat and injected the
drug.
   Within a few seconds Mystique quietened and ceased wriggling.
   Logan lifted her into his arms and waited for Jean to tell him what
to do next.
   - And what now? he said.
   Jean sighed. - We'll take her to a hospital cell, as I said. I'll
have to do my best trying to take out all the splinters while she's
sedated. Will that be alright? Erik? Charles?
   - Yes, sure, said Erik. Charles only nodded in reply, almost
imperceptibly.
   - I can help you, doctor Lecter offered. I am no expert on mutant
physiology, but I think I might be useful in case she wakes up.
   - Sure, said Jean with a shrug. I think I might need all the help I
can get.
   - But I will escort you up first, if you wish, Ororo, he said then,
turning to Storm.
   - No, that is not necessary, Storm replied. I will be alright. Go
and help Jean.
   - Sure?
   - Yeah. Thank you for fixing my arm, she said and tried to smile.
   He kissed her cheek. - Of course. Goodnight, then.
   Scott, Ororo, Charles and Erik headed back up. Jean, Logan and
Hannibal Lecter stayed, together with an unconscious Mystique.
   They had a difficult task ahead of them.

Title:  One of These Boys is Not Like the Others



Author:  Autumn



Email: autumnleaves@...



Archive:  DDFH, APE, others please ask.



Summary:  A mysterious death leads agents Scully and Mulder to a school in
Westchester New York.  An X-Men/X-Files crossover.  Bunny tossed by THL in
offering of the DDFH’s April theme week.



Rating: R (implied relationships, language)



Disclaimer:  The X-Men is property of Fox and Marvel.  X-Files belongs to
1013 Productions and Fox.  The original song belongs to Weird Al Yankovic
and it is a parody of the Backstreet Boys ‘I Want it that Way’.



A/N:  I’ve replaced a bunch of the WA lyrics with my own, which are
indicated with an astric (*).   The song is to the tune of ‘I Want it that
Way’



This is set roughly around X-Files season six, and two years after the X-Men
movie.





*************************



             Thursday, April 23

             F. B. I. Headquarters

             Washington D.C.





                         Agent Dana Scully walked through the door to find
her partner hunched over the projector.  “Morning Mulder.”



             “Mwornin” came the muffled reply.



             Scully settled down in the desk chair and waited for her partner
to begin his slideshow.  “Hold your hose Scully, this is gonna knock your
socks off.” Mulder grinned and clicked the button; a strange picture filled
the screen.



             “This was found at the scene.  As you can see there are what
appear to be claw marks on one side of the body.  Second and third degree
burns cover the front and left side, the back appears to have been smashed
into a wall with tremendous force, and there’s evidence of freezer burn at
the bottom.  Whata you make of that Scully?”



             “Well Mulder, we won’t know for sure until I have a chance to
examine the remains, but I’d say it was obviously a crime of passion.”
Scully answered swinging her blue gaze towards Mulder.



             “Well, the local police can’t figure out what happened, so guess
who’s up to save the day.”



             Scully simply nodded and picked up the suitcase from behind the
desk.  She’d long since learned to have a case full of clothes and
toiletries ready to go at all times.  Mulder still hadn’t picked up on this
habit and the pair was forced to stop at his apartment before continuing to
the airport.







***********



             Four hours later the agents had pulled up to the front of an
impressive looking mansion and knocked on the door.  A large, hairy man with
pointed hair opened the door.  “If you’re selling something we’re not
interested.  And before ye ask, no I haven’t accepted Jesus, Mary or Joseph
into my heart and eternal damnation sounds fine to me.”



             “You must be Logan.” Mulder said, recognizing the face from the
case study.



             “I’m Agent Dana Scully, this is my partner Fox Mulder.  We’re
from the FBI.”



             Logan glanced between the two of them and opened the door.  He
scowled as the two suits asked for Charles Xavier and demanded to see him at
once.  Logan stalked down the hall and threw the door open to Charles’
office.  “Cops are here.”  He told the older looking man before nearly
plowing Mulder over in his hurry to get away from the duo.



             “I understand that you’re here to solve this mystery.”  Charles
greeted them.



             “Yes sir, that’s what we do.” Mulder volunteered.



             “Sir, is there anything in specific we should know about the
people we’re planning to interview?” Scully pinned the bald man with a
stare.



             “Surely you are aware of the reason this school exists?”
Charles asked.



             Scully and Mulder exchanged a look before nodding their
agreement.  “I’ve cleared the main rec hall for your convenience, and the
small room in the back of it is where you’ll find the remains.  Do let me
know if there’s any way I can assist in your investigation.”



             “We’ll need to use a portable CD player, but that should be the
only equipment that we are lacking.”  Scully informed him.



             “Very well.  I hate to cut our meeting short, but I fear that I
have an awful lot of business to catch up on that simply can’t be put off
any longer.”



             “Thank you Mr. Xavier.”  Mulder said.



             “Please, call me Charles.”  The bald one smiled warmly.



             The G-men ushered themselves out of the office and walked
towards the room they had been directed to.  They locked the doors and
proceeded towards the room where the corpse was located.  The smell of burnt
plastic still permeated the air, and the two coughed from the overpowering
scent.  “It looks even worse in person.”  Mulder cracked.



             “What sort of person would do this?  Its just, a little
excessive if the killer was excessively angry.”



             “You’re the one who said it was a crime of-passion” Mulder said,
strongly emphasizing the last word.



             “Mulder.”  Scully said, fixing her partner with a glare.



             “What?” He asked innocently.  The two regarded the other with a
long look before Scully broke the silence.  “Who do you want to interview
first?”



             “How many do we have?”



             “10.  Five men, five women.”



             “You don’t actually believe in the possibility of mutants do you
Scully?”  Mulder asked, mimicking one of his first questions to Scully from
five years ago.



             “Mulder, you believe in aliens, and you’re questioning this?”



             “It’s just that, it seems a little bit too comic bookish.”
Mulder finished.



             “Mulder, there is scientific evidence that indicates that the X
gene really exists.”



             “There’s also scientific evidence that you’re cute.”  Mulder
muttered.



             “What?”



             “Nothing.  Hey, check out the burn marks on this thing.  It
looks like it was blasted by some intense heat.”



             “Well, there is a fire thrower, and a man who can emit optic
blasts in residence.” She answered.



             Mulder gave a derisive snort.  “It just doesn’t seem very
plausible.”



             Scully laughed lightly, it wasn’t often that she got to see
Mulder doubting anything.  She admitted to herself she rather liked the
reversal of roles.  “I’ll perform the autopsy on the remains downstairs,
Charles said there was a full medical facility downstairs.”



             “I’ll look over the files again, we can decide which ‘mutant’ we
want to interrogate first.”



             “Scully rolled her eyes and left in search of the med lab for a
gurney to transport the corpse.  She could tell it would be an interesting
case.

Autumn

Annette:  We need to talk about Michael
Jackie:  Fine.  I'll use really small words so you'll be sure to understand
me!
Annette:  That won't be good enough!
-'That 70's Show'

Autumn's Penguin Emprium
http://www.autumnpenguins.com

Travel Journal
http://www.livejournal.com/users/loveablepenguin



---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.474 / Virus Database: 272 - Release Date: 4/18/03


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue


7
Jubilee

A bath, hot meal and some sleep went a long way toward returning Jubilee's
usual good humor. With her new perspective, she was able to see the pluses
of going on a great adventure.

Or, one plus, at least.

A cute boy.

His name was Alyn Battim, and he was Risa's brother. He was about her age,
and a dead ringer for a young George Clooney, minus the dorky "Facts of
Life"-era hair. His hair, in fact, was one of the cutest things about him, a
thick, straight, rich brown mess that flopped down over his brow in an
unbelievably endearing way. And then there were his eyes, a melted-chocolate
brown, remarkably intense as they stared into hers while he asked question
after question about her world.

Rather than finding all that inquisitiveness annoying, Jubilee found it kind
of intoxicating to have all that intensity focused on her. She couldn't
remember the last time a guy paid that much attention to her. He was hanging
on her every word, though she doubted he really understood half of what she
was telling him. After all, how could one understand the true glory of The
Mall without experiencing it oneself?

"And what is this ... pizza?" he asked, never taking his eyes off her face.

Jubilee laughed. "Alyn, you'll just have to come back with us for a visit.
Experience it all yourself."

Risa, who was sprawled on the floor of Sidre's house next to them, laughed.
"You are wasting your time on that one, Jubilee," she said. "He will barely
leave our house. His books might miss him if he left."

"Risa ..." he said, laughter tingeing the warning in his voice.

"Besides," his sister continued. "He might have an *adventure* if he left
home, and The One knows what a nightmare that would be!"

"Enough, sister," Alyn said, blushing in what Jubilee thought was an
extremely cute way.

Jubilee grinned. It had been a while since she'd had a good crush.

It was certainly a distraction, something she needed since she'd discovered
that her best friend was a princess. Here she'd been living with royalty all
these years and hadn't even known it. Of course, neither had the princess in
question.

"I'm a ... princess," Rogue said flatly when Sidre had revealed the truth.

"Yes."

"Do you suppose," Rogue had asked Jubilee pleasantly, "that they have such a
thing as crack in this world?"  Before she got an answer, she continued.
"Sorry. Got the wrong girl. I'm from *Mississippi*. No princesses there."

"That may well be, Emmarie," Sidre said, stressing the name. "But the fact
remains that you got to your Mississippi because I took you there. Along
with your guardian." She frowned. "Although I do wonder what has happened to
Captain Logan."

"My name is *Rogue*, and  ... did you say Captain Logan?" She and Jubilee
looked at each other. What were the chances?

"I do know a Logan," Rogue said slowly. "But he's not my guardian. He's ..."
She obviously didn't know what to say about him.

Unfortunately, Jubilee did. "Dude, you've got the hots for your *baby
sitter*! Isn't that a little ..." she trailed off as she remembered that
Rogue was having major Logan issues at the moment. Open mouth, insert foot.
And while you're at it, prepare to have your ass kicked.

Luckily, Rogue had more important things on her mind and simply rolled her
eyes instead of pounding the snot out of her friend. Sidre gave a perfect
description of Logan, down to the pointy hair and growliness, and even Rogue
was convinced.

Sidre had taken Rogue with her to get supplies for a trip. Sidre was certain
that Logan would be following close behind, and since she needed to visit
someone in his home anyway -- someplace called Roan, in the Forest of Marn
-- they were going to wait for him there.  She still wouldn't say why Rogue
had been taken away or why she'd come back. But she did promise that Rogue
would learn to control her skin.

Jubilee had approximately a million other questions, and she wondered why
Rogue couldn't see that they hadn't learned much more than they knew when
they first showed up. Her mind was obviously preoccupied with the Logan
concept and the thought that she would soon be able to touch. Jubilee had
been accused of having an overly suspicious nature, but she couldn't help
wondering if Sidre had told her those things specifically to keep her mind
occupied. Obviously Jubilee would have to be the one who watched out for
Rogue this time.

Of course, her track record in that department so far wasn't exactly
stellar.

***

They left before dawn, and Jubilee leaned against Rogue, who was propped up
by the wall, yawning. It was cold enough that their breath came out in
clouds of vapor, but at least this time they were properly dressed. Both
Rogue and Jubilee had flatly refused to wear dresses, choosing instead to
wear tunics and slim pants like Risa, along with boots and the cloaks they
had been wearing before.

Sidre and Risa were packing bags that Jubilee was sure she was going to have
to help carry. That alone was enough to ruin the morning. Though Jubilee had
hoped for an SUV, van or at least a wagon and horses, it appeared they were
going to do more walking on this journey. Perfect.

"Rogue," Sidre said, apparently willing to use that name as long as the girl
followed her own plans. "Please go fetch your cousin. She is late. Four
houses down on the left."

Rogue straightened. "My what?"

Jubilee wasn't psychic, but she just knew what was coming next. Suddenly she
understood why blondie looked so familiar. "Celeste. Your cousin." Sidre
scanned their faces. "I thought she had told you."

Again, Jubilee had the feeling that Sidre was just playing them. She knew
damn well that nobody was answering their questions with anything but "Ask
Sidre." Rogue didn't seem to notice. Jubilee determined to keep an eye or
two on Sidre. She didn't care for being manipulated.

"She's my cousin?" Rogue didn't sound as appalled by the idea as Jubilee
would have been. But maybe the idea of having real family members who were
like her was appealing. No wonder Celeste had been able to touch Rogue. She
probably had the same power.

"I am," Celeste said coldly, appearing next to Risa, apparently out of thin
air. "Or so they say."

Rogue ignored the frosty tone. "Were our parents siblings, then?"

Celeste sighed and turned her back on them, testing one of the bags for
weight. Finally, she answered. "Our mothers were sisters, and your father
was my father's cousin."

Rogue hummed to herself and sank back against the wall.  Sometimes her
friend was hard to read, but it was easy to see that Rogue was pondering her
parents. Her real parents, not some jerks who kicked her out when she turned
out to be a mutie freak. Rogue didn't talk much about what her life was like
before Xavier's, but what little Jubilee knew wasn't very happy.
Unfortunately, that was life for a lot of mutant kids.

Sidre gathered them together and handed out bags to carry. Jubilee found
that the straps on the bag could be placed to balance the weight of the bag
perfectly on her back. It wasn't too bad, though she dreaded setting out
carrying anything at all. Again she wished for a good plane, train or
automobile. But she got something better.

"Here, let me carry that," Alyn appeared beside her, smiling and tugging at
her bag.

"Hold up!" she laughed, falling off balance and ending up in his arms.
Technically speaking, she could have avoided the fall, but where was the fun
in that? She found she enjoyed the position quite a lot, though she could do
without Rogue smirking at her exaggerated clumsiness. She thought of
flipping her friend off but decided not to risk it. She had no idea if Alyn
-- or worse, Sidre  -- would know what it meant.

Instead, she pushed herself out of his arms and smiled. "Are you trying to
knock me down?"

The sweetie actually looked worried that she thought that. "Oh, no. I only
was offering to carry your bag for you."

Before Jubilee could answer, Risa piped in from behind him. "Alyn, you get
your own bag to carry."

It finally sunk in that Alyn was coming with them. Morning plus Jubilee did
not equal quickness of thought. "You're coming with us? But what if we run
into an adventure?"

Risa laughed, but Alyn looked perfectly serious. "I suppose you will have to
protect me, Jubilation Lee," he said.

"Will do," she managed before Risa dragged him off to find his pack.

"Cute," Rogue said softly. "Do his arms feel as strong as they look?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," Jubilee hummed. "Stay away, girl. I'd fight you for that one."

Rogue snorted. "Do I look like I want sparklers up my ass? No man is worth
that."

"Not even your guardian?" Jubilee snuck a look at her friend, who was
frowning. "Don't you think it's odd that he was supposed to protect you, and
then he ended up saving your life, like, multiple times? That's fate, babe."

"I don't know. This whole thing is just --"

Sidre clapped her hands and motioned to the road in the opposite direction
from where they'd come. That was apparently leaderspeak for "let's get a
move on." Sighing, Rogue and Jubilee fell in line behind Celeste, who was
back to ignoring them. Rogue moved slightly ahead, leaving room for Alyn to
walk next to Jubilee. Jubilee smiled at her friend's back, then turned to
face a day of question and answer with Alyn.

***

They had quickly passed out of the town and into more grasslands, coming
upon a house from time to time. The houses became more rare, finally
disappearing altogether as they headed into a wooded area. This area seemed
fairly well traveled, because the path was pretty clear and smooth. Whatever
enemies they had were apparently not nearby, because they made no effort to
be quiet. Risa and Alyn even sang for part of the way, their voices blending
wonderfully, making Jubes wish she could carry a tune and join in.

They walked for two days, stopping for several short breaks during the day
and for five or six hours at night. Jubilee would collapse the second they
stopped, frankly pretty proud of herself for not whining. Not that she had
much of a chance to whine, with Alyn peppering her with questions all day
long.

He was a wonderful distraction, though, and she reassured him of that
whenever he worried that he was annoying her. He offered at least 10 times a
day to carry her pack as well as his own. She turned him down, though she
was tempted to let him a  few times. As long as Celeste was carrying her
bag, Jubilee wasn't going to wimp out.

Near the end of the second day, they started to see houses in the forest.
Most of them were wood, though a few used stone as well. Jubilee thought it
was odd that she saw no people, but Alyn whispered that the Untamed -- the
residents of this area -- kept to themselves and only made themselves known
if they wanted to speak with you. Apparently nobody did. Sidre kept them
walking too fast to stop and chat, anyway.

"This is where Logan is from?" Rogue asked, though Jubilee didn't think it
was really a question.

"He is from the town, Roan," Sidre answered. "We will be there soon."


Jamie
~*~
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