Her knees hurt. Her shoulders hurt. Her arms hurt too, but Rogue kept her
fingers laced tightly behind her back and her forehead in contact with the
wood paneled wall in front of her. Gambit and Logan knelt in similar
postures to her right. The Humanity's Champions squad had brought plenty
of handcuffs with them, each set bright and shiny as the day they'd
disappeared from some law agency's manifests and found their way into the
service of the men around her. The last pair were being brutally applied
to poor Clyde, who lay on his round belly, his short arms pulled
uncomfortably behind him.
A single guard stood over Rogue. Whether misguided chivalry or the chauvinistic assumption that a chubby middle-aged man was more dangerous than the young woman beside him, Logan could not have said, but he was fiercely glad. Not even Joshua could stand up to Rogue's power. With one touch on the man's skin, and the balance of power could be shifted quickly. Now if only the G.I. Joe wanna-be would make it easy -- and the goon with the M-4 carbine nuzzling Rogue's cheek didn't get antsy.
"I can't believe you, homme," Gambit bit out as Joshua dragged Clyde to his feet and shoved him down next to his boss.
"Quiet," ordered another of the tan-shirted squad. Joshua yanked at the front of Gambit's jacket, retrieving the packaged deck and loose playing cards from the pocket and tossing them aside. The Champion who'd taken the Bo stick handed it to Joshua, who tossed across the room. It crashed into the bottles that lined the wall behind the bar, filling the room with the acrid tang of alcohol.
"Remy know you for almost three years, Joshua," Gambit continued. A rifle butt slammed into his back, making him twist in pain. "Can't believe you turn on us like 'dis!"
"He didn't turn – he was sent here," growled Wolverine. "Weren't you?" he accused. Joshua gave him a long look, but didn't answer.
Two more men came into the bar. From the corner of his eye, Logan could see them holding the doors of the establishment open for a third. When he entered, his unhurried pace brought total silence to the men within. The white shock of unruly hair was the first thing to be noticed, then the piercing dark eyes and prominent beak of a nose.
Franklin Piece glanced about approvingly at the men who stood at attention throughout the room. His gaze fell on the four figures under guard.
"Four more unfortunates," he mused aloud.
"Only three, Father. Clyde is a human," came Joshua's deferential voice.
Although she made no sound, Logan saw Rogue's mouth open as though suddenly struck, her eyes drifting shut as the painful truth about her would-be beau slid home.
"A collaborator," Pierce commented. "His soul is in just as much jeopardy." The leader of Humanity's Champions paced behind his captives. "Only three, then. I am disappointed."
The words and tone were simple, but the reaction from his son was telling. Logan recognized it – he classified it as a 'just once say you're proud of me,' posture, and his assessment of their predicament went down several more notches.
"It will make no difference, in the end," Pierce continued. "We know where the rest of the abominations can be found, here in the city. We will gather them."
"I been called a lot of things over the years," Logan sneered. "Gotta say, that's a new one for me."
A faint flicker of Pierce's hand stalled the rifle butt headed for Logan's head. "Of course it is. The truth of your affliction has been kept from you by the Liar who created you."
"So we're works of the devil, is that it? Then why bother wasting your time on us?"
"The mutation of humanity is an abomination in the sight of God. It must be blotted from his sight," Pierce expounded calmly. "Your souls, if you even have souls, are damned." Pacing again, the Reverend warmed to his subject. "Your salvation is the work God has set before me. Some of you are not beyond redemption. Even my son strives every day towards this goal. Your fellow mutant, for instance, the one with the eye covering… removing the Devil's mark might save him."
The man's tone was perfectly reasonable. Sickened, Logan realized the man was talking about removing Cyclops' eyes.
"Is that what you did to Falcon?" demanded Gambit. "You chopped off his wings, bâtard! Did that save his soul?"
"Of course not. It simply opened the door to his redemption. The fact that he did not survive the amputation took away his chance to repent."
He began to pace behind them again. "You too have a chance to repent, and redeem others. My son tells me you come from a haven for mutants in the north. You will tell me where this is, and I will cleanse this witches' den."
"Your ass," Logan muttered, furious. "Torquemada and the Spanish fucking Inquisition."
"The only alternative is a holy cleansing slaughter of all mutants!" Pierce thundered. "I have worked tirelessly to save you all, and on every side I am opposed by the hellspawn I seek to help. You WILL tell me where to find this haven."
"Or else what?" demanded Logan. "You start a war? I got news for you, bub. There's a load of mutants out there who've seen that coming already. It could be a lot more work than you think."
"I will be upheld by the grace of God," insisted Pierce. "The time will come when all of humanity will rise up in righteous anger against the mutants, and they will no longer pollute the land of God."
Logan stared at the wall. "You're gonna have Joshua start it for them, aren't ya? Got it all planned out, I bet. How ya gonna do it, Pierce? Gotta be something big and flashy, " he continued. "A little germ warfare, kill a bunch of humans and blame it on the mutants?!" He paused, as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Shit, I'll bet you've got that set of disks from the CIA, too. Gotta be a lot of good stuff in there on how Joshua can kill a lot of perfectly innocent people!"
"You'd have your son commit murder?!" Gambit demanded. "Your own son?"
"Enough," stated Pierce, loosing interest in the game. "We will find your den of witches, wherever it is. When the country knows what and where you are, and sees a mutant attacking the nearest city, they will demand action."
"Come on," breathed Rogue, leaning into Logan's shoulder, speaking barely loud enough for him to hear her. "Hasn't New York been picked on enough?" The bitter gallows humor lifted his heart more than it should have. Knowing she was still thinking like an X-Man was a relief, however fleeting.
The slight movement brought Pierce's eagle sharp gaze back to Rogue's crown of white hair. "Bring the woman," he snapped.
"NO!" yelled Logan. The guard batted his head with the stock of his shotgun.
Joshua seized her by the arm and hauled her up, his vast, pitiless strength keeping the tips of her feet barely brushing the floor. The strain on her shirt ripped the top two buttons, revealing the neckline of the white sports tank she wore beneath.
"I known you a long time, Joshua. I never figured you de kind to pick on girls!" The guard hammered the Cajun in the back with his gun butt again.
"They come from the north. Philadelphia, maybe," Joshua offered. His hands held her shoulders, and he was perhaps unconscious of the way he pulled her back against his chest. Rogue eyed Franklin Pierce, an odd, defiant glitter in her eye. She'd begged for her life once, and it did no good. She'd made herself a vow to never beg again.
Pierce gave her a benevolent smile as he leaned down to put his face on the same level as hers. "Tell me where you came from, and you will not be hurt."
Rogue smiled back. "Liar."
The old man's hand rose to backhand her, checked when Joshua called out, "Don't!" Under his father's intense glare, he continued. "Don't touch her – her skin absorbs your energy."
"Hmm," remarked Pierce. He glanced around the tumbled room, to one of the tables that still stood upright. "Bring her." The baseball bat Clyde had used lay discarded on the floor; with deliberate movements Pierce picked it up and weighed it in his hands.
"A woman who drains the life from the men around her, offering temptation that is never fulfilled," he mused. "She is woman, indeed."
"Great," drawled Rogue. "Misogyny disguised as fundamentalism." Pierce shot her a fierce look, but continued to address his son.
"Women are weak, my son. They have no courage, in the end." He hefted the baseball bat. "Free her hands, and take those ridiculous gloves."
"Father…" Joshua protested.
Anger flashed suddenly under Pierce's shaggy white brows. "Has this whore of Satan seduced you?" he demanded.
"Of course not," Joshua replied sternly.
"If you have any hopes of redeeming your immortal soul, my son, then do as I say! Hold her!"
Joshua's long arms held her from behind in a grotesque reminder of their earlier dance as he unlocked the cuffs and yanked at the fingers of her gloves, stripping them off and dropping them to the floor. The fabric of her sleeve bunched around his fingers, his body behind hers forcing her to bend while his strength easily forced her hands flat on the table in front of his father.
Pierce regarded the small white talons with vague interest. "Tell me where your den is, witch."
She shook her head, and the bat fell instantly. She gasped with the instant pain, knowing it would get so much worse very quickly.
Pierce assumed a patient expression. "Tell me," he coaxed.
"No," she managed.
Pierce frowned, and the bat fell again, this time on the other hand, and she let out a small scream.
"Tell me!"
"Go to hell!!" Rogue spat as she coughed and struggled, but Joshua's embrace held her like a vise.
Logan listened to her scream again, his body jerking involuntarily to the sound of the bat falling. He stared at the wall in front of him, feeling the familiar tide of red rage swamping his thoughts. A movement of Gambit's chin caught his eye for a split second, and he saw the rifle barrel of the closest guard sagging. The man's whole attention was on the torture being enacted on the far side of the room.
Another sobbing scream abruptly broke the last of Logan's control. Snarling in rage, he rammed the inattentive guard over Remy with his shoulder, kicked another who never had the chance to bring his weapon to bear.
A sharp explosion behind him made him whirl, but rather than a gunshot, LeBeau had used his mutant ability to charge a link of his handcuffs and make it blow. In one quick, fluid movement he scooped up a handful of coasters from the debris on the floor and let fly.
One hit Joshua square in the back, causing him to drop Rogue from his grip. Pierce scrabbled backwards, shouting, "Shoot him!"
Another second was all Gambit needed to charge the chain between Logan's wrists. Hands free at last, claws out, Logan staggered a half step as a bullet hit him in the chest, then waded into the men with a roar, his wound already closing. Gambit dropped to the floor and rolled, coming up with another handful of coasters and some of the scattered cards, charging them with a touch and sending the whining missiles into the chaos, his aim uncannily accurate. The sight of Joshua striding towards him inspired the charge on his next handful, and he sent them all to impact square in the man's chest, hitting him with tremendous force and staggering him backwards.
Logan was only peripherally aware that three of Pierce's men had grabbed him and hustled him unceremoniously out the door. Twisting out of the way of a shotgun blast, he kicked the owner and rammed his knee into the man's gut. Gambit's missiles were exploding around him, taking out additional men before concentrating on Joshua.
The young man faltered under the onslaught, throwing one hand up to shield his eyes from a blast that came uncomfortably close to his face. Logan had a moment to gather himself, preparing to charge him again, when Gambit let loose with an even larger barrage, all of which hit dead center and blew Joshua back, off his feet and into the wall hard enough to go partially through it. He slid down the wall, and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Logan dragged the last Champion up to meet a pile-driving punch and dropped the man to scan the wreckage of the room. In the corner, Remy quickly popped the cuffs around Clyde's wrists and helped the big man to his feet. With a quick slice of his adamantium claws, Logan shed the remains of the cuffs off his wrists.
"Where's Rogue?" he demanded. Suddenly he caught sight of her leg behind an overturned table.
Remy reached it at the same time he did, and together they threw it away. Rogue lay curled against the wall, leaning on her elbows, her white-shot hair was a waterfall over her face. Logan carefully pulled it back. When she raised her head and looked back at them, her irises were once again a rich chocolate brown, but glistened with unshed tears.
LeBeau took one look at her hands and looked away, then met her eyes again with murder gleaming in his scarlet orbs. Logan gently put his arm around her and helped her sit up.
"We must be leaving now, mes amis."
"In a minute,' Logan growled. He took her wrists in a delicate grip over the torn cuffs of her shirt, fighting to keep his face impassive as he examined the misshapen wrecks that were once graceful fingers.
"Sortez d'ici, maintenant!" Remy shouted to the bartender, who immediately dropped the weapons he'd been gathering and headed out the door. "Chere needs a doctor, an' I'm thinking pretty damned quick. And we got no idea how many more guests be coming for this party." He eyed Joshua's still form, lying among the other unconscious or dead HC members.
Logan ignored him. He could feel Rogue's trembling pain and he took a small breath. Creed had a healing factor, but any residual left in Rogue would never be up to the damage Pierce had inflicted.
"Logan?" Her voice was thready, questioning but also warning.
He refused to answer her, but carefully slid his hands down her arms. He could feel the edge of the seam on her sleeve, feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin cotton. She tried to pull away, hissing in pain as her fingers were jostled, but his grip tightened. His fingers inched downward.
"Logan, no. You can't. Logan!"
His warm grip slid down to her bare wrists.
Remy's attention snapped back as Logan made a choking noise. The man's face was gray as granite, but Rogue's mouth was open like a woman in the throes of passion. The thief watched with disbelief as Rogue's fingers straightened. The shattered joints and purpling knobs of broken bones knit together, the seeping blood ceasing as the split skin reformed smooth, whole. After only a moment, she wrenched her nearly healed hands away from Logan's grip.
He fell down to his hands and knees, gasping for air like one on the verge of drowning. Her fingers flexed once, the healing slower now, but complete within moments. Rogue circled his broad shoulders with her perfect hands, whispering something that sounded like 'you idiot' into his hair.
Across the room, Remy spotted Joshua stirring, and decided that enough was enough. "He who fights and runs away, mon coeur courageux," he muttered. He grabbed Wolverine under the arm and dragged the man to his feet. He was a lot heavier than he looked.
Rogue snatched her discarded gloves from the floor and hauled on the other arm, and between them got Logan moving toward the back of the bar. A tan- shirted Champion came staggering down the corridor from the kitchen and Rogue took him out with a swift kick. She turned to see Logan's exhausted eyes watching her with an amused glint.
"How are you feeling?" she asked breathlessly, hauling his bulk forward down the hall.
"Little sore. How 'bout you?"
She gave him a brief grin. " A little sore."
Ahead of them, Remy kicked the Emergency Exit door and looked back impatiently as they hurried towards him. His back was to the cracked parking lot, so he did not see the cars that careened around the corner and screeched to a stop, but he did see the murderous anger in Joshua's face as he bore down on them. Logan's claws slid out with a harsh rasp, but his charge towards the men piling out of the vehicles was brought up short as Joshua's large hand grabbed the back of his jacket and bounced him off the metal door. Adamantium claws flailed uselessly as he was shaken like a rat.
"NO!" shouted Rogue, struggling with her glove, but Remy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away, towards the alley. Logan's body landed with a painful crash on the pavement, rolling to protect himself as he was surrounded by more Champions, who kicked and stomped every available inch as he struggled. With lightning speed Joshua reached out and snagged Rogue's other arm, pulling her and the thief back towards him.
The menace of a shotgun brought Gambit up short, and his shoulders slumped as he raised his hands. The dog-pile of tan shirts obscured almost all of Wolverine, save his choked, ferocious face, while Rogue dangled from Joshua's raised arm like a carnival prize.
**********
Logan regained consciousness with a start, lifting his head, then decided against it. He was face down, his arms pulled painfully apart. Slower this time, he rolled his head to the side to survey the dark concrete cell. On that side, LeBeau gave him a tiny lift of his head, welcoming him back to the land of the living. The thief's hands were duct-taped flat to each other in a semblance of prayer, the handcuffs around his wrists further restraining his movement. From the scattered bits of tape and the blood around his mouth, he'd been working on getting the stuff off for a while. Damn fools should have cuffed his hands behind him. Of course, they may very well have, and not realized the thief was as flexible as an eel. A metal collar around his neck chained the thief to the wall.
Struggling to check his own bonds, the Wolverine tried to keep the rage and panic down to a manageable level. A length of steel pipe ran across his back, U-bolts in the drilled ends anchoring the chains that imprisoned his arms and fastened him to the ground. Dark stains and the stench of old blood on the cold floor under his chest told him this room had seen use before.
In front of him, a knee moved. He lifted his head higher, awkward as hell in this position.
With relief, he realized a live and relatively unharmed Cyclops sat across from him, his hands cuffed behind him. The leader of the X-Men looked like he'd taken a lot of punishment before being taken down. The fancy black visor was missing, and in its place, surgical tape and cotton pads crisscrossed his eyes. A similar collar ran around his neck.
"Cyke. You okay?"
The younger man startled at the sound of his voice, then grinned half- heartedly. "Been better." He didn't sound traumatized, and Logan concluded with some relief that Pierce hadn't followed through with the threat to remove his eyes. It might be a hell of a lot of fun to needle his leader without mercy, but in no way did he want the guy permanently maimed.
Logan finally got his head turned around the other way. Rogue sat with one leg curled under the other, leaning one shoulder against the wall. She had been dozing, or perhaps just resting. Her hands were similarly cuffed behind her. The fingernails that peeped through the ragged holes were perfectly normal, and he upped the estimate of how long he'd been out. Her face was calm, but her eyes were portals into a dark world of pain.
"So," he began, conversationally. "What'd I miss?"
"Not much, mon ami. We been sittin' here for hours."
Cyclops shifted on the concrete floor. "Just be glad you missed Old Man Pierce and his nazi son in here telling us he's doing God's work."
Logan shook his sore head, exasperated. "Already had mine. Why do these assholes always try to talk us in to going over to their side? At least Magneto had a good point to make, even if he was a nutball."
"He was trying to convert us," Rogue added softly. "Joshua thinks he's the biblical Joshua, chosen to lead us poor unclean to the Promised Land." The bitter tone of her voice twisted in his gut like poison. "He should have been named Judas."
Logan thought about it for a minute. "That one was a traitor, right?"
It actually got a small laugh from her. "Yeah."
"So. Cyclops. Still wanna recruit him?"
Scott's perfect teeth were still bright in the dim light as he grinned. "Kiss my ass, Logan."
He grunted in acknowledgement, then took a better look at Rogue. Her cheek was striped in three deep red welts, turning purple in the center. He had no doubts who had slapped her with such force. He made a mental vow to gut the bastard. "How long we been here, and do we have any idea where 'here' is?"
"I'm thinkin' mebbe half a day. Sunlight's startin' to fade out dere. They plannin' somethin', though. Been hearin' construction sounds, hammers and chainsaws and such."
"We're about an hour or so away from New Orleans," Scott added. "We drove, so it's probably west or north."
"What happened to you two, anyway?"
"We got to the warehouse, but Creed was already gone. Some goons jumped the three of us, and just about the time I thought we were winning, Joshua nailed me. I told Storm to fly away. He must have tried to follow her, but I did heard a couple of lightning strikes." The slight grin flashed again.
"Storm will find your people and coordinate with ours. It's only a matter of time." Rogue seemed confident. Logan knew none of them were. With the attack on the bar, the Guild had to be hiding deep from a traitor who knew all their contingency plans.
"We may not have that luxury," Scott said baldly. "They know Storm escaped. Whatever their original plans, they've got to be changing their timetable."
"You really think your Stormy gal's gonna get a passle o' my people together and find us in time?"
"I sure hope so," Scott commented, shifting uncomfortably. "I really have to pee."
(Author's Note: For those who don't remember, Moses lead the Israelites out of Egypt, wandered for 40 years in the desert with them, but died before reaching the Promised Land. Joshua, his second in command, actually led the way to the Promised Land.)
**********
In the underground reaches of a Upper New York mansion, Charles Xavier sat in the hollow heart of Cerebro, eyes closed and brow creased in concentration. Finally, he raised his head and opened his eyes, staring at something that isn't there. "West," he breathed.
In the wood-paneled office above him, Jean Grey-Summers sat in a half- trance, her hand absently caressing the unborn child she carried. Over her brilliant red hair she wore a black phone headset. Dreamily, her eyes still drooping in her trance state, her fingers reached out and pressed a speed-dial button on the phone bank.
**********
Hovering far above Lake Pontchartrain, in the late afternoon sun, Storm pressed the earbug more firmly in her ear. The tiny black wire trailed to the cell phone zipped firmly in the front of her uniform, it's tiny green light blinking under her throat like a beacon as she banked and sped into strong light.
**********
In the driveway where Jean had greeted Logan with a smile, the younger generation of the X-Men waited tensely. St. John and Kitty leaned against the convertible, it's engine running quietly, while Bobby sat possessively in the driver's seat. Riding shotgun, Jubilee watched the front door with the same predatory intensity as the rest of her team. A bright yellow jacket topped her outfit, but did not disguise the black leather of her uniform underneath. Next to her, Kitty gnawed on a non-existent hangnail, her other hand thrust in the pocket of her uniform jacket.
"Where'd the Professor get another jet?" she asked, her voice thin. It wasn't a real question; it was just a way to pass the moments while they waited for Jean to appear.
"The Guild sent it, I think," Jubilee murmured back. Another thought occurred. "Did you get those crackers like I said?"
"Um, yeah," Kitty said. "Why'dya need 'em?"
"Not me. Jean. I'm not flying with Her Preggerness unless I'm armed."
**********
The ground rose shortly in the darkness, then sloped down and away from the group of mutants being herded by a crowd of Franklin Pierce's most fervent believers. Surrounded on all sides by the armed humans, Rogue kept her attention on keeping Cyclops' faltering steps from tripping them both up. They'd released her hands to allow her to help the blinded and cuffed man, but any thoughts she'd had about touching Scott and absorbing his powers had been circumvented by the duct tape that circled her gloved wrists tightly. Tempting though it was, Cyclops had forbade her to try it unless absolutely necessary.
Behind her, she heard Sabretooth's roar as he was hauled forward. Trussed as tightly as Logan, he was not taking his captivity well. His arms strained against the chains encircling his wrists, which were bolted to the hefty steel pipe across his back. More chains looped around his shoulders, keeping the pipe close to his body. Wolverine had caused enough trouble that the HC guards had knocked him off his feet and were dragging him over the dry grass.
Craning her neck, Rogue looked around for lights or any signs of civilization, but only marsh flats and twisted trees draped with Spanish moss stretched out beneath the lingering twilight as far as she could see. A fist lashed out of nowhere and cuffed her head, and she glared at the flat, impassive face of the HC guard who'd struck her. This man was Caucasian, but the next tan shirt was a Latino. Whites, blacks, even one who reminded her terribly of Jubilee surrounded her, but all wore similar hard expressions, implacable in their disgust of her and her kind.
At last the group in front of her parted, and the progression of burnt circles and piles of ash took a moment to register. When it did, she inhaled sharply, involuntarily. Five new pyres were waiting for them.
"What is it?" Scott asked. He turned his head into the breeze coming from the Gulf, sniffing in an almost funny imitation of Logan. Remy, standing nearby with his hands once again locked behind him, shook his head at her, but she ignored him.
Her hands tightened on Scott's arm, warningly. He had a right to know. "They're going to burn us at the stake."
He stiffened, but the shoulders straightened unconsciously. "Well. That's different. Good to see someone keeps up the old traditions."
The tails of her once white shirt flapped against her hip as strong hands ripped her away from Scott's side, and her throat choked as she realized she'd lost her chance. She could only watch, helpless, as one by one they were forced up a small ladder on the individual pyres. Logan and Sabretooth had the chains of their bonds pulled around to be nailed to the upright timber, once a telephone pole, that thrust through the heart of the stacked wood. The hammering echoed loudly across the landscape.
Franklin Pierce, coming late to his own party, frowned at the crucifixion image the two mutants presented. He waited until Rogue, Gambit, and Cyclops were each tied to their own stake, their handcuffs removed and substituted with harsh sisal rope. The guards who gingerly tied Rogue's hands behind her had to maneuver carefully on the tiny platform laid loosely at the top of the logs. Glancing down, Rogue could see the log cabin arrangement of wood and the tiny sense of humor she had left laughed at the pattern Scott had taught her on camping trips, years ago.
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," proclaimed Pierce to his assemblage.
"How original." Cyclops' voice carried just as well over the crowd, and the hisses of "quiet" from the people did nothing to intimidate him.
"These mutants are the spawn of Satan, and we shall send them back to their creator in the hellfires from which they came!" The crowd murmured in approval as Pierce stood on the bottom rung of Cyclops' ladder. "That one has the clearest markings of a demon of hell, " and Sabretooth growled menacingly at Pierce," but all of them are of the devil's making!"
"And you got all the markings of a psycopath!" yelled Remy.
"Shut up," ordered Joshua, from his place near his father's side.
"Look around you, Joshua," Remy shot back. "This is wrong, and you know it."
"Which is blackening your soul more?" Rogue added, unable to keep the bitter tones of betrayal and hurt out of her voice. "Being a mutant, or killing people who trusted you?"
Franklin Pierce turned his thoughtful, patriarchal gaze on his son. "Well, Joshua?" he challenged. "Will you damn your soul forever, and side with these… things?"
The silence stretched out for interminable moments. "No, Father," Joshua finally answered, softly.
Smiling with just a touch of triumph, Pierce held out his hand. One of the guards handed over a length of smooth wood. The end was wrapped in a swathe of white cotton, perhaps an old shirt, and soaked in paraffin and lighter fluid. A lighter sparked, the flickering light glowing a glorious warm light in the gathering darkness as the sunlight reluctantly faded from the marsh. A cool breeze from the sea caused the flame to gutter for a moment. Then the fire leapt eagerly to the end of the torch, licking up and around the fabric wrappings. He held it out, letting them all see their fate.
Abruptly a sonic boom broke over the group, followed by a scream of jet engines and the harsh sound of retros firing in the darkness.
"Jean!" shouted Scott, his bandaged face unerringly drawn up and out towards his soul-mate. His dry and bruised mouth moved minutely, his brow creasing in concentration as Jean's telepathic voice reached him.
Bright white sparks and multi-colored streams of plasma arced in the distance, accompanied by the ominous roll of thunder. The assembled mob of Champions dissolved into chaos. Some ran away into the wilderness, while the majority rallied and charged back towards the main camp. Several commanding voices shouted orders as the group headed back to defend their base. Pierce was immediately surrounded by his handlers; hard-faced men who urged him away.
"They will not stop God's work!!" Pierce thundered. "Joshua!!" He cast about desperately for his son, and spied him standing exactly where he'd been during their brief conversation. Striding forcefully, he grabbed his son by the front of his shirt. "Finish this, then join me." The spitting torch was thrust into Joshua's numb hands. "My work must be completed!"
"Yes, sir," Joshua replied, taking the torch. "I promise."
Joshua Pierce watched his father and the bodyguards as they disappeared over the rise, then scanned the sky, where the first star of the evening made a pale appearance. He paced towards the closest pyre, and stood motionless, despite the sounds of battle coming through the night, contemplating the torch in his hand.
"Joshua," Rogue called out, but stopped as the man shook his head.
"All I ever wanted was to serve God and my country, Rogue." Joshua raised his face to see her, hanging against the stake above the chest-high pile of wood. "Get married, raise a family…" His voice trailed off as he remembered the dreams that had died for him.
"And then I found out I was a mutant. God help me, I was one of the things I'd been taught to hate. I tried to hide it. I tried to pretend it didn't exist. I did everything I could think of the keep it from tearing my world apart."
Logan saw the blond demi-god swallow hard, a single tear track making its way down the man's cheek. "I was a good son, and a good soldier, and I ended up with NOTHING!" The word tore into the night with the raw anger of a man holding onto sanity by only the barest margin.
"And then you came here. You made me want to believe again, Rogue. You made me want things that I can't have!" The torch crackled in the still evening, whooshing softly with the erratic movements of its wielder. "The military doesn't want me. GOD doesn't want me. And even if you wanted me, you couldn't touch me!" A harsh laugh followed his anguished shout.
"I think I've finally figured it out," he said after a moment. "Finally, it all makes sense." The fire reflected off the tear track on his face. "We're already dead, Rogue. We're dead, and this is hell."
Joshua slowly approached her waiting pyre. "We're already dead," he repeated softly, then thrust the torch into the gasoline soaked wood. Greedily the fire spread at the base, following all the gasoline. Joshua watched the leaping, eager flames impassively, then looked up at Rogue. Like a stag clearing a fence, his mutant strength carried him in one prodigious leap to the top of the pyre.
Joshua's hand was almost hot as it cupped her face, pulling her mouth up to his. In contrast to his brutal grip around her waist, his kiss was gentle and passionate, until the familiar undertow hit her. Her torn shirt had slid off her shoulder, and the thin strap of her tank was not wide enough to act as insulation as Joshua's large hand dropped painfully onto her shoulder. His skin went gray and his mouth on hers gasped open in a rictus of pain, the veins of his face standing out boldly, but he made no effort to break from her. His entire body shaking, he sagged to his knees, buckling slowly like a burning building. His lips dragged their way down her cheek and neck as her talent pulled more and more life from him.
The fire spread quickly to the adjacent pyres, first to Gambit's, then Logan's. Behind the couple, the leaping, flickering flames began to rise. Joshua held Rogue in an iron grip, his hands circling her bared waist where her tattered shirt had left her exposed, and leaned his cheek against her naked belly like a lover.
Logan could barely hear the raging battle at the camp over the popping of the spreading flames. Despair was a vise in is chest as he could only watch as Rogue absorbed more and more of Joshua. Rogue's head was thrown back, in either pain or pleasure, her long hair whipping in the breeze. With a start Logan realized they were gasping in unison.
At last, Joshua Pierce dropped away from Rogue and slid down the pyre, dead, sparks flying up in the wake of his rolling body. Under Logan's horrified witness Rogue's back arched, then snapped her head forward, shaking in convulsions. Never before had she absorbed so much that her body attempted to reject the grafted energy. A strangled scream came from her as she lost consciousness and sagged limply in her bonds.
His vision hazed with impotent rage, Logan again yanked futily, desperately, against the chains and spikes pinning his arms. He did not consciously consider the mercy that Rogue would be unconscious when she died, only knew he was desperate to get to her. He paused in exhaustion, his abused muscles shaking and blood running freely from his wrists, before beginning again to wrench at the chains.
He did not see when Rogue's head came up, moving in dreamy leisure. The flames at her feet began to blacken the fabric of her jeans, the sparks flying up around her like an unholy halo. Sluggishly she glanced at the inferno around her, then down to where her arms disappeared around her back. When she gave the tied wrists a twist, the rope parted like rotted thread.
The flicker of movement drew Logan's stunned attention as Rogue leapt lightly to the ground. A slow turn of her head to see the fires, then she took another effortless bound that placed her beside LeBeau, where her suddenly immense strength had the knots giving way in seconds. She lifted him easily and flew them off the pyre. His hands were still taped together, and the tape tore under her fingertip as easily as a paper envelope.
Relief flooded through Logan like a drug as Rogue turned to him, but turned to apprehension as she continued her dispassionate calm while ripping at the chain holding his wrists. "Rogue?! Are you still in there?" He flinched as she pulled the nails out of his chains with her fingertips.
"ROGUE!!" he shouted in her face. She blinked, but made no response. Scooping him up in her arms, she brought him unceremoniously to the ground near Gambit, where he found his mistreated body did not want to stand upright yet, and immediately left him to free Cyclops. Within seconds, the younger man was sprawled next to him.
"What the hell is going on, Logan?" he demanded. His fingers hovered by his bandaged eyes, quivering in frustration. Logan glanced at the body of Joshua Pierce, lying backlit by the roaring flames like a Viking prince on his funeral barge.
"Joshua's dead," he said shortly.
"Rogue?" The shock vied with concern in Scott's voice. Logan made no response, but watched Rogue as she flew to the enemy that remained trapped atop a raging fire.
Sabretooth grinned with anticipation as Rogue freed him, the chains breaking like children's toys under her gloves. When his talon-tipped hands came free, he made a lunge for her throat. The snarl of satisfaction changed to a grunt of surprise as she grasped one massive thumb in each hand and pulled, forcing his hands away from the bare skin.
"We always were a slow learner," she growled. With a quick leap backward, she pulled the big mutant off the licking flames and sent him tumbling to the flattened earth. He scrambled to his feet to face her, the momentary shock of seeing her hovering several feet off the ground giving her ample time to slug him, a single punch that laid him out like a bad prizefighter.
Logan took a moment to drag Joshua's body further from the raging fire, uneasy with the detached, unconcerned way Rogue watched him. She had not responded to any questions, and he was leery of pushing her while she was still at Joshua's full strength. Sabretooth remained unconscious, and when he considered the effort it would take to truss the man up, dismissed the idea entirely.
An explosion over the hill caught everyone's attention.
"I think we're missing the party, Cyke," Logan commented.
"Then let's go," Scott ordered. He startled when Logan grabbed his arm, but let his teammate pull him upright. LeBeau left off scavenging for small rocks on the ground, stowing the handful of golf ball-sized missiles in the appropriate pocket.
"I've told Jean we're safe," Scott commented as he stumbled over the ground he could not see. "She's told the team where we are."
"Jeannie's stayin' in the Blackbird, right?" Logan queried, not really a question. His attention and wholesale concern remained on the lithe form of the woman in front of him. Rogue's walk was different than usual; but oddly, it seemed to change from moment to moment, from a hunter's stalk to a short-stepping march, then back to easy gait he was accustomed to seeing. She walked up the slope that separated the base camp of Humanity's Champions from their execution field, then paused to wait for the rest of them. He considered the fact that she even acknowledged their existence as some progress.
Rogue had once told him that managing the people in her head was similar to juggling. Surprisingly, that was a skill at which Lensherr was adept, and which she'd demonstrated, laughing when Logan teased her. Now, his gut twisted with the worry that Joshua's absorption could be too much for her to handle.
At the crest of the hill, Rogue surveyed the compound, one corner of which was burning as brightly as the pyres they'd left behind them.
"That's a really bad idea," she commented, the light trace of her accent completely missing. "The armory's in that wing."
Logan gave her a level look, then gave Cyclops' arm a tug. "Better tell Jean they need to get that fire out."
"Gotcha," Scott replied, his attention turning inward. A moment later, a breeze rippled through the grasses, pulling moist air from the south. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
As they approached the buildings they'd been summarily marched out of earlier for their execution, several figures appeared in the smoke and gloom, weirdly lit by the fire behind them. A few stray raindrops pattered down as Jubilee, Iceman, and Shadowcat came closer.
"Pyro's helping Storm control the fire," Jubilee volunteered. She fished in the pocket of her soot-smirched yellow jacket, and came out with a curve of black. "Here," she said, guiding Scott's hands to his visor as he shook off Logan's hand.
"Thank God," he breathed, tucking it under his arm and tearing at the bandages over his eyes. He grimaced but continued to ruthlessly remove the tape until his face was bare. Cyclops' boyish features were still too young for Logan's comfort, but it was something he'd accepted in the years they'd fought side by side. Once the visor was back on, the leader of the X-Men was once again in charge. "Status?"
"Most of the goons are under control. The Guild sent some people along to help," reported Bobby. "They're out searching for the strays now."
"The fire is contained to one building," added Jubilee. Pyro said it will be about five minutes before he gets it out completely."
Scott glanced at Rogue, who stood with her hands clasped lightly behind her back, her feet apart in the at-ease stance of a soldier. "Iceman, see what you can do to help Johnny get it out faster."
"Check," Bobby replied, disappearing into the darkness again.
"Any sign of Pierce?"
"A car tried to run me down when we got here," commented Kitty. "The engine died when I phased through it, but no one was left in the car when we went to check."
"Then he's still around. Kitty, show Wolverine the car. Logan -- find him." The flat finality of Cyclops' voice was without pity. Logan nodded.
"We need to find his little science project, too," he growled. "Those disks the CIA lost? I'm betting they're here in the compound somewhere."
"Great," Cyclops replied dryly. "Jubilee, I want you to get Rogue on the Blackbird and keep her there."
"Uhm, sure," she responded. "Why the house arrest, if ya don't mind my asking?"
The rebellious tones in her voice earned her a possible glare from behind the red visor, but Logan answered the question. "Rogue's had a rough couple days. Take care of her, alright?"
The younger girl shrugged. "Whatever you say, big guy. C'mon, sweetie. It's quittin' time."
"Jubilee," Rogue acknowledged an odd voice, peering down as her as she took Rogue's arm.
Logan and Kitty set off towards the far side of the compound, but had gone no more than a dozen yards before he reached out and stopped her. Cyclops and Gambit saw him freeze, and called out to Jubilee to stop.
A single figure surged out of the grass past Logan and Shadowcat, careening wildly up the path towards the way they'd come. Almost barreling into Jubilee, Franklin Pierce reeled out of the women's way and staggered towards the small rise, only to be confronted by Cyclops and Gambit. The old man recoiled violently and turned to flee, only to see Logan suddenly blocking his way.
His white shock of hair even more unkempt than usual, he swore incoherently as he spun around, searching for an escape, but was thwarted by the mutants who moved to surround him. His eyes glittered in the light of the burning buildings, reflecting a not-quite-sane gleam as he came to bay in the circle of X-Men. A tire iron wavered in his trembling grip.
"Joshua!" he screamed skyward, virulent hate distending the cords of his neck as he raged. "Where are you? Answer me, BOY!!"
"Mr. Pierce," Cyclops called commandingly. Pierce whirled. "Mr. Pierce… your son is dead." Only his basic decency let the words come out with the smallest particle of regret.
"He cannot be dead. My son is invulnerable!! God's grace protects him to be my instrument!"
"Everyone has their weaknesses," Logan stressed flatly. He'd meant that in a purely military context, but that was not how the words were received.
"No. NO!" He cast about the X-men, the manic glint in his eye growing wilder. "YOU!" he shouted. "Whore of hell, what did you do to him?"
Swinging wildly, Pierce laid into Rogue with the tire iron, despite Logan's abortive attempt to intervene. Rogue took the blows without flinching, in fact, without any visible effect. Jubilee gasped, one of the few times Logan had ever heard the firecracker taken aback.
"Have you lost a tool, or have your lost a son?" Rogue demanded coolly, contempt dripping from the European accent in her voice.
Screaming incoherently, Franklin Pierce swung wildly, a blow that should have split the skull of any human. But a human did not stand before him, and when Rogue's hand shot out and grabbed the length of iron, it was suddenly as immobile as a mountain. With a casual jerk she pulled it from his hands and slung it away in the darkness. Pierce goggled at her, his mouth working without sound, until her other hand rose and backhanded him with an explosive slap. His body landed several feet away.
Rogue stalked up to the man who lay moaning in the dust. Logan seized her shoulders in a hard grip. "Get a handle on this, Rogue. Keep control."
"Piss off, runt," she bit out, before wrenching her arms from his grasp. "I got it," she added in a quieter voice. "I'm all right."
"We don't have much time before the authorities show up," Scott called. Jubilee was trussing the semi-conscious Pierce with a length of dark rope. "I want those disks found and destroyed before we leave." He turned to Jubilee and her prisoner. "Get him to the jet. Jean might be able to dig it out of his conscious thoughts, but I don't want her and the baby out here where someone can take a pot shot at her."
"He doesn't go anywhere near Jeannie," Rogue snarled in a low voice. She stalked towards Jubilee and her prisoner, and Pierce shrank from the young woman who'd so casually beaten him.
"Rogue, don't!" warned Cyclops as tried to stop her, she pushed his chest with her fingertips and sent him staggering backwards. She grabbed the front of the Reverend's shirt and hoisted him up.
"Human," she said, the European lilt back in her voice. Holding up her hand, the tip of her index finger emerged as the other fingers inched down the torn glove-tip. "Where is the information you stole?" The faintest crease of concern went through the old man's face, as he realized he was completely at her mercy, but never realizing the question had been asked to deliberately bring the information to the top of his mind.
"Rogue, STOP!" shouted Logan, shoving forward to grab her arm, just an instant too late. Her fingertip touched Pierce's lined cheek, turning it gray for a moment before Logan yanked her hand away.
She dropped Pierce, shaking her head as she made sense of his mind.
Her posture changed slightly as the balanced yet another personality in her head. "Father," she said in a begging voice, her head twisting as she fought for control.
"Tell Kat the disks and a biohazard container are in the walk-in safe hidden behind the south wall of the basement. There's a framed print of Christ hanging on it. The booby traps are electronic… phasing through them should take 'em out."
After a moment, she began to laugh, and her own voice came forth. "You're a fool, Pierce. The 'bio-weapon' you paid so much for... it's worthless. It's killed virus, used for inoculations. It's completely harmless." She dropped the old man, still laughing, then suddenly snarled at him.
Rogue's hand shot out, fingers wide, and the metal tire iron came winging out of the darkness into her palm. Her eyes were black in the firelight. "No -- Stand Down!" she ordered, then tensed, jaw clenched, muscles frozen as different personalities vied for dominance.
Her back arched painfully as she fought the voices in her head, her fingers digging into the disordered tangle of hair. Logan caught her as she collapsed, and she buried her face into his chest as strangled sounds came from her throat, her body still twitching convulsively.
"Shit!" he cursed, trying to turn her over enough, his bare hand reaching for her face, but Cyclops stopped him.
"Her body isn't hurt. You can't help her."
**********
In a misty gray landscape, Rogue walked past a plain concrete wall. Doors hung open all along the avenue, and as she approached one, she peered inside. A teenage boy stood in the center of the cell, his skin oddly gray under the bright white light that made the walls of the room indistinct. He stared at her defiantly until she stepped back.
The door to the boy's cell swung shut of its own accord. Rogue's hesitant steps took her to the next doorway. Inside, Magneto spared her a single glance before returning to his contemplation of a chessboard, the pieces fully engaged in a complex game. That door also closed with a clang, and Lensherr ignored her as he moved his queen. Logan occupied the third cell. Seated in a simple folding chair, his feet were spread wide with his elbows planted on his knees. A cigar dangled from his fingers. The smoke curled through the air as he gave her a slight smirk. A tiny glimmer of fondness curved her mouth, and she left that door partially open. The next half-dozen doors swung shut as she surveyed the row of cells. From the barred window of his cell, Sabretooth snarled viciously at her. She walked down the hall, peering in the little windows. The final door was wide open, but empty, save for a branch of pale purple flowers on the floor. Tentatively, she picked it up.
Suddenly, Charles Xavier was standing at her side, his expression one of calm patience.
"What is it?" he asked calmly.
"Hyssop flowers," Rogue answered. Her fingers caressed the blossoms. "He isn't here," she said softly. "I can't find him anywhere."
"Rogue," began the Professor, startling backwards as she whirled.
"He's not here!" Rogue shouted.
In the library, Xavier flinched suddenly, pulling his fingers from Rogue's loose hair as her head came off the soft arm of the sofa with a lurch. He moved his wheelchair from beside the sofa to a closer proximity to Rogue, and waited as she swung her feet over the edge and sat up.
"Sorry, Professor," she said, and he gave her a pained smile.
"It's quite all right, Rogue. Your defenses are… quite formidable. I must say I'm impressed. "How do you feel?"
"Empty," she replied after a moment of reflection, her voice equally empty.
"The personalities you've absorbed are all still there, Rogue. They've simply been put away. You should, with practice, be able to access them when you choose."
"Except Joshua," she added bleakly.
"I'm afraid so. I found no trace of him." Xavier regarded her with fondness, not a little intrigued. "I'm not sure exactly how you received Joshua's abilities without absorbing his personality, and so unfortunately I cannot predict how long you'll be able to utilize them."
"Joshua wanted to die," she said quietly, fiddling with her gloves. "He didn't want to exist any more. And he doesn't, not even in me."
Xavier seemed to be unsure of how to address the sense of loss in her voice, and unable to think of anything else to say. "Well. I suggest you get some rest. You've had a very trying time." He paused, obviously feeling the need to say more.
"Franklin Pierce and his organization were among the strongest supporters of the Sentinal proposal. Exposing his activities of Humanity's Champions has created a backlash of sympathy for mutants, and without the organization's political support, the Sentinel bill has been postponed in all congressional hearings." Deliberately, he reached out and pressed his fingers over her clasped, gloved hands. "We're all very proud of you, Rogue.
She nodded shakily, her white-shot hair slithering loosely over her shoulders. Xavier's silent chair carried him from the room, and she stared at the carpet for a long moment. Moving gingerly, careful of her new strength, Rogue moved to the window. The sheer white curtain hissed against her gloves as she pulled it aside to see the kids playing on the lawn, including Tommy, his furry shoulders covered only by a tank top as the rest of the children wore long sleeves and jackets. They were kicking a ball around, shouting exuberantly, happy.
Suddenly she was aware of Logan, leaning silently against the bookcases. Whether he was there all along, or had silently appeared in his usual way while she was looking out, she could not have said.
Her mouth moved, as though she would say something, but looked out the window again rather than continue to meet his steady gaze. Pushing away from the bookcase, Logan crossed the empty room and stood beside her, looking down on the crown of her head.
"Would you rather be alone?" he asked, his voice gravely.
She shook her head in tiny, jerky movements. Carefully, Logan folded her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. Together, unmoving, they watched the children outside playing on the lawn.
After a bit, Rogue stirred in the circle of his arms. "I think I need some air."
"Okay. Wanna take a ride?"
"Actually…" Rogue started. The quiet tones of her voice rose, and Logan pulled back to look at her. A tiny frown creased her forehead as she thought, then a small smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. She glanced up at him through her lashes, an arch expression that he'd never yet been able to refuse. "I was kinda thinking about something else."
That got her the eyebrow, but he didn't question her. At least, not until it was far too late.
Franklin Pierce had convinced his only son that the mutant powers he possessed were shameful, something to hide. And while Rogue had never been ashamed, exactly, her energy absorbing talent was hardly something that could be considered enjoyable. Now, despite everything, she had been given an ability that didn't hurt anyone. Several, actually, considering the strength and invulnerability that showed no signs of fading. And if she had nothing else of Joshua, she at least had his gifts. If he had never been able to enjoy them, surely she could enjoy them in his memory.
Several minutes later, Logan followed Rogue down the back steps to the expansive back yard of the mansion, grumbling but inwardly glad at the rallying spirits of the woman in front of him. Across the yard, Tommy gave Rogue a furry wave, and she returned it with a smile.
"I feel stupid in this getup."
"Well, you don't look stupid. You look like a fighter pilot."
"I look like one of Jubilee's S & M music videos." The web strapping hung off of his huge frame like a jet pilot's parachute harness.
"It's either this, or piggyback," she warned.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled, and pulled out the Matrix-style sunglasses Jubilee had given the entire team as a gag Christmas gift. "You sure I need the shades?"
"Definitely. We don't need to find out the hard way if you can regrow an eyeball." Rogue circled him, checking the fit of the harness until he slapped her hands away with a mock growl.
The sight of her brilliant smile as she put on her own sunglasses was worth looking like a dork, even if Scott did see him. "Okay. Let's do this."
"Hang on," she warned from behind him.
"No," he corrected. "YOU hang on. Don't drop me."
He felt her small hands grab the webbing over his shoulder blades, then the gentle tug upwards as she rose off the ground. The straps tightened around his body.
"Ready, sugar?"
Sugar? Where had that come from? "Ready as I'll ever be." With a lurch his feet left the ground, causing him to grab convulsively for the secure harness across his chest. The grass dropped away beneath him and the wind blowing through the points of his hair increased suddenly.
An uncontrollable whoop came from his lungs as she accelerated sharply, pulling them into the air, circling the house and the stately trees wearing their brilliant autumn colors. The sounds of the children pausing in their soccer game to cheer came to Wolverine's ears, and a huge grin spread over his face. He heard Rogue laugh in exhilaration, and glancing up, caught the joy on her face.
His hands reached up, found her gloved hands where they gripped his harness, and took a firm hold. "Punch it."
And she did.
~fin~
A single guard stood over Rogue. Whether misguided chivalry or the chauvinistic assumption that a chubby middle-aged man was more dangerous than the young woman beside him, Logan could not have said, but he was fiercely glad. Not even Joshua could stand up to Rogue's power. With one touch on the man's skin, and the balance of power could be shifted quickly. Now if only the G.I. Joe wanna-be would make it easy -- and the goon with the M-4 carbine nuzzling Rogue's cheek didn't get antsy.
"I can't believe you, homme," Gambit bit out as Joshua dragged Clyde to his feet and shoved him down next to his boss.
"Quiet," ordered another of the tan-shirted squad. Joshua yanked at the front of Gambit's jacket, retrieving the packaged deck and loose playing cards from the pocket and tossing them aside. The Champion who'd taken the Bo stick handed it to Joshua, who tossed across the room. It crashed into the bottles that lined the wall behind the bar, filling the room with the acrid tang of alcohol.
"Remy know you for almost three years, Joshua," Gambit continued. A rifle butt slammed into his back, making him twist in pain. "Can't believe you turn on us like 'dis!"
"He didn't turn – he was sent here," growled Wolverine. "Weren't you?" he accused. Joshua gave him a long look, but didn't answer.
Two more men came into the bar. From the corner of his eye, Logan could see them holding the doors of the establishment open for a third. When he entered, his unhurried pace brought total silence to the men within. The white shock of unruly hair was the first thing to be noticed, then the piercing dark eyes and prominent beak of a nose.
Franklin Piece glanced about approvingly at the men who stood at attention throughout the room. His gaze fell on the four figures under guard.
"Four more unfortunates," he mused aloud.
"Only three, Father. Clyde is a human," came Joshua's deferential voice.
Although she made no sound, Logan saw Rogue's mouth open as though suddenly struck, her eyes drifting shut as the painful truth about her would-be beau slid home.
"A collaborator," Pierce commented. "His soul is in just as much jeopardy." The leader of Humanity's Champions paced behind his captives. "Only three, then. I am disappointed."
The words and tone were simple, but the reaction from his son was telling. Logan recognized it – he classified it as a 'just once say you're proud of me,' posture, and his assessment of their predicament went down several more notches.
"It will make no difference, in the end," Pierce continued. "We know where the rest of the abominations can be found, here in the city. We will gather them."
"I been called a lot of things over the years," Logan sneered. "Gotta say, that's a new one for me."
A faint flicker of Pierce's hand stalled the rifle butt headed for Logan's head. "Of course it is. The truth of your affliction has been kept from you by the Liar who created you."
"So we're works of the devil, is that it? Then why bother wasting your time on us?"
"The mutation of humanity is an abomination in the sight of God. It must be blotted from his sight," Pierce expounded calmly. "Your souls, if you even have souls, are damned." Pacing again, the Reverend warmed to his subject. "Your salvation is the work God has set before me. Some of you are not beyond redemption. Even my son strives every day towards this goal. Your fellow mutant, for instance, the one with the eye covering… removing the Devil's mark might save him."
The man's tone was perfectly reasonable. Sickened, Logan realized the man was talking about removing Cyclops' eyes.
"Is that what you did to Falcon?" demanded Gambit. "You chopped off his wings, bâtard! Did that save his soul?"
"Of course not. It simply opened the door to his redemption. The fact that he did not survive the amputation took away his chance to repent."
He began to pace behind them again. "You too have a chance to repent, and redeem others. My son tells me you come from a haven for mutants in the north. You will tell me where this is, and I will cleanse this witches' den."
"Your ass," Logan muttered, furious. "Torquemada and the Spanish fucking Inquisition."
"The only alternative is a holy cleansing slaughter of all mutants!" Pierce thundered. "I have worked tirelessly to save you all, and on every side I am opposed by the hellspawn I seek to help. You WILL tell me where to find this haven."
"Or else what?" demanded Logan. "You start a war? I got news for you, bub. There's a load of mutants out there who've seen that coming already. It could be a lot more work than you think."
"I will be upheld by the grace of God," insisted Pierce. "The time will come when all of humanity will rise up in righteous anger against the mutants, and they will no longer pollute the land of God."
Logan stared at the wall. "You're gonna have Joshua start it for them, aren't ya? Got it all planned out, I bet. How ya gonna do it, Pierce? Gotta be something big and flashy, " he continued. "A little germ warfare, kill a bunch of humans and blame it on the mutants?!" He paused, as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Shit, I'll bet you've got that set of disks from the CIA, too. Gotta be a lot of good stuff in there on how Joshua can kill a lot of perfectly innocent people!"
"You'd have your son commit murder?!" Gambit demanded. "Your own son?"
"Enough," stated Pierce, loosing interest in the game. "We will find your den of witches, wherever it is. When the country knows what and where you are, and sees a mutant attacking the nearest city, they will demand action."
"Come on," breathed Rogue, leaning into Logan's shoulder, speaking barely loud enough for him to hear her. "Hasn't New York been picked on enough?" The bitter gallows humor lifted his heart more than it should have. Knowing she was still thinking like an X-Man was a relief, however fleeting.
The slight movement brought Pierce's eagle sharp gaze back to Rogue's crown of white hair. "Bring the woman," he snapped.
"NO!" yelled Logan. The guard batted his head with the stock of his shotgun.
Joshua seized her by the arm and hauled her up, his vast, pitiless strength keeping the tips of her feet barely brushing the floor. The strain on her shirt ripped the top two buttons, revealing the neckline of the white sports tank she wore beneath.
"I known you a long time, Joshua. I never figured you de kind to pick on girls!" The guard hammered the Cajun in the back with his gun butt again.
"They come from the north. Philadelphia, maybe," Joshua offered. His hands held her shoulders, and he was perhaps unconscious of the way he pulled her back against his chest. Rogue eyed Franklin Pierce, an odd, defiant glitter in her eye. She'd begged for her life once, and it did no good. She'd made herself a vow to never beg again.
Pierce gave her a benevolent smile as he leaned down to put his face on the same level as hers. "Tell me where you came from, and you will not be hurt."
Rogue smiled back. "Liar."
The old man's hand rose to backhand her, checked when Joshua called out, "Don't!" Under his father's intense glare, he continued. "Don't touch her – her skin absorbs your energy."
"Hmm," remarked Pierce. He glanced around the tumbled room, to one of the tables that still stood upright. "Bring her." The baseball bat Clyde had used lay discarded on the floor; with deliberate movements Pierce picked it up and weighed it in his hands.
"A woman who drains the life from the men around her, offering temptation that is never fulfilled," he mused. "She is woman, indeed."
"Great," drawled Rogue. "Misogyny disguised as fundamentalism." Pierce shot her a fierce look, but continued to address his son.
"Women are weak, my son. They have no courage, in the end." He hefted the baseball bat. "Free her hands, and take those ridiculous gloves."
"Father…" Joshua protested.
Anger flashed suddenly under Pierce's shaggy white brows. "Has this whore of Satan seduced you?" he demanded.
"Of course not," Joshua replied sternly.
"If you have any hopes of redeeming your immortal soul, my son, then do as I say! Hold her!"
Joshua's long arms held her from behind in a grotesque reminder of their earlier dance as he unlocked the cuffs and yanked at the fingers of her gloves, stripping them off and dropping them to the floor. The fabric of her sleeve bunched around his fingers, his body behind hers forcing her to bend while his strength easily forced her hands flat on the table in front of his father.
Pierce regarded the small white talons with vague interest. "Tell me where your den is, witch."
She shook her head, and the bat fell instantly. She gasped with the instant pain, knowing it would get so much worse very quickly.
Pierce assumed a patient expression. "Tell me," he coaxed.
"No," she managed.
Pierce frowned, and the bat fell again, this time on the other hand, and she let out a small scream.
"Tell me!"
"Go to hell!!" Rogue spat as she coughed and struggled, but Joshua's embrace held her like a vise.
Logan listened to her scream again, his body jerking involuntarily to the sound of the bat falling. He stared at the wall in front of him, feeling the familiar tide of red rage swamping his thoughts. A movement of Gambit's chin caught his eye for a split second, and he saw the rifle barrel of the closest guard sagging. The man's whole attention was on the torture being enacted on the far side of the room.
Another sobbing scream abruptly broke the last of Logan's control. Snarling in rage, he rammed the inattentive guard over Remy with his shoulder, kicked another who never had the chance to bring his weapon to bear.
A sharp explosion behind him made him whirl, but rather than a gunshot, LeBeau had used his mutant ability to charge a link of his handcuffs and make it blow. In one quick, fluid movement he scooped up a handful of coasters from the debris on the floor and let fly.
One hit Joshua square in the back, causing him to drop Rogue from his grip. Pierce scrabbled backwards, shouting, "Shoot him!"
Another second was all Gambit needed to charge the chain between Logan's wrists. Hands free at last, claws out, Logan staggered a half step as a bullet hit him in the chest, then waded into the men with a roar, his wound already closing. Gambit dropped to the floor and rolled, coming up with another handful of coasters and some of the scattered cards, charging them with a touch and sending the whining missiles into the chaos, his aim uncannily accurate. The sight of Joshua striding towards him inspired the charge on his next handful, and he sent them all to impact square in the man's chest, hitting him with tremendous force and staggering him backwards.
Logan was only peripherally aware that three of Pierce's men had grabbed him and hustled him unceremoniously out the door. Twisting out of the way of a shotgun blast, he kicked the owner and rammed his knee into the man's gut. Gambit's missiles were exploding around him, taking out additional men before concentrating on Joshua.
The young man faltered under the onslaught, throwing one hand up to shield his eyes from a blast that came uncomfortably close to his face. Logan had a moment to gather himself, preparing to charge him again, when Gambit let loose with an even larger barrage, all of which hit dead center and blew Joshua back, off his feet and into the wall hard enough to go partially through it. He slid down the wall, and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Logan dragged the last Champion up to meet a pile-driving punch and dropped the man to scan the wreckage of the room. In the corner, Remy quickly popped the cuffs around Clyde's wrists and helped the big man to his feet. With a quick slice of his adamantium claws, Logan shed the remains of the cuffs off his wrists.
"Where's Rogue?" he demanded. Suddenly he caught sight of her leg behind an overturned table.
Remy reached it at the same time he did, and together they threw it away. Rogue lay curled against the wall, leaning on her elbows, her white-shot hair was a waterfall over her face. Logan carefully pulled it back. When she raised her head and looked back at them, her irises were once again a rich chocolate brown, but glistened with unshed tears.
LeBeau took one look at her hands and looked away, then met her eyes again with murder gleaming in his scarlet orbs. Logan gently put his arm around her and helped her sit up.
"We must be leaving now, mes amis."
"In a minute,' Logan growled. He took her wrists in a delicate grip over the torn cuffs of her shirt, fighting to keep his face impassive as he examined the misshapen wrecks that were once graceful fingers.
"Sortez d'ici, maintenant!" Remy shouted to the bartender, who immediately dropped the weapons he'd been gathering and headed out the door. "Chere needs a doctor, an' I'm thinking pretty damned quick. And we got no idea how many more guests be coming for this party." He eyed Joshua's still form, lying among the other unconscious or dead HC members.
Logan ignored him. He could feel Rogue's trembling pain and he took a small breath. Creed had a healing factor, but any residual left in Rogue would never be up to the damage Pierce had inflicted.
"Logan?" Her voice was thready, questioning but also warning.
He refused to answer her, but carefully slid his hands down her arms. He could feel the edge of the seam on her sleeve, feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin cotton. She tried to pull away, hissing in pain as her fingers were jostled, but his grip tightened. His fingers inched downward.
"Logan, no. You can't. Logan!"
His warm grip slid down to her bare wrists.
Remy's attention snapped back as Logan made a choking noise. The man's face was gray as granite, but Rogue's mouth was open like a woman in the throes of passion. The thief watched with disbelief as Rogue's fingers straightened. The shattered joints and purpling knobs of broken bones knit together, the seeping blood ceasing as the split skin reformed smooth, whole. After only a moment, she wrenched her nearly healed hands away from Logan's grip.
He fell down to his hands and knees, gasping for air like one on the verge of drowning. Her fingers flexed once, the healing slower now, but complete within moments. Rogue circled his broad shoulders with her perfect hands, whispering something that sounded like 'you idiot' into his hair.
Across the room, Remy spotted Joshua stirring, and decided that enough was enough. "He who fights and runs away, mon coeur courageux," he muttered. He grabbed Wolverine under the arm and dragged the man to his feet. He was a lot heavier than he looked.
Rogue snatched her discarded gloves from the floor and hauled on the other arm, and between them got Logan moving toward the back of the bar. A tan- shirted Champion came staggering down the corridor from the kitchen and Rogue took him out with a swift kick. She turned to see Logan's exhausted eyes watching her with an amused glint.
"How are you feeling?" she asked breathlessly, hauling his bulk forward down the hall.
"Little sore. How 'bout you?"
She gave him a brief grin. " A little sore."
Ahead of them, Remy kicked the Emergency Exit door and looked back impatiently as they hurried towards him. His back was to the cracked parking lot, so he did not see the cars that careened around the corner and screeched to a stop, but he did see the murderous anger in Joshua's face as he bore down on them. Logan's claws slid out with a harsh rasp, but his charge towards the men piling out of the vehicles was brought up short as Joshua's large hand grabbed the back of his jacket and bounced him off the metal door. Adamantium claws flailed uselessly as he was shaken like a rat.
"NO!" shouted Rogue, struggling with her glove, but Remy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away, towards the alley. Logan's body landed with a painful crash on the pavement, rolling to protect himself as he was surrounded by more Champions, who kicked and stomped every available inch as he struggled. With lightning speed Joshua reached out and snagged Rogue's other arm, pulling her and the thief back towards him.
The menace of a shotgun brought Gambit up short, and his shoulders slumped as he raised his hands. The dog-pile of tan shirts obscured almost all of Wolverine, save his choked, ferocious face, while Rogue dangled from Joshua's raised arm like a carnival prize.
**********
Logan regained consciousness with a start, lifting his head, then decided against it. He was face down, his arms pulled painfully apart. Slower this time, he rolled his head to the side to survey the dark concrete cell. On that side, LeBeau gave him a tiny lift of his head, welcoming him back to the land of the living. The thief's hands were duct-taped flat to each other in a semblance of prayer, the handcuffs around his wrists further restraining his movement. From the scattered bits of tape and the blood around his mouth, he'd been working on getting the stuff off for a while. Damn fools should have cuffed his hands behind him. Of course, they may very well have, and not realized the thief was as flexible as an eel. A metal collar around his neck chained the thief to the wall.
Struggling to check his own bonds, the Wolverine tried to keep the rage and panic down to a manageable level. A length of steel pipe ran across his back, U-bolts in the drilled ends anchoring the chains that imprisoned his arms and fastened him to the ground. Dark stains and the stench of old blood on the cold floor under his chest told him this room had seen use before.
In front of him, a knee moved. He lifted his head higher, awkward as hell in this position.
With relief, he realized a live and relatively unharmed Cyclops sat across from him, his hands cuffed behind him. The leader of the X-Men looked like he'd taken a lot of punishment before being taken down. The fancy black visor was missing, and in its place, surgical tape and cotton pads crisscrossed his eyes. A similar collar ran around his neck.
"Cyke. You okay?"
The younger man startled at the sound of his voice, then grinned half- heartedly. "Been better." He didn't sound traumatized, and Logan concluded with some relief that Pierce hadn't followed through with the threat to remove his eyes. It might be a hell of a lot of fun to needle his leader without mercy, but in no way did he want the guy permanently maimed.
Logan finally got his head turned around the other way. Rogue sat with one leg curled under the other, leaning one shoulder against the wall. She had been dozing, or perhaps just resting. Her hands were similarly cuffed behind her. The fingernails that peeped through the ragged holes were perfectly normal, and he upped the estimate of how long he'd been out. Her face was calm, but her eyes were portals into a dark world of pain.
"So," he began, conversationally. "What'd I miss?"
"Not much, mon ami. We been sittin' here for hours."
Cyclops shifted on the concrete floor. "Just be glad you missed Old Man Pierce and his nazi son in here telling us he's doing God's work."
Logan shook his sore head, exasperated. "Already had mine. Why do these assholes always try to talk us in to going over to their side? At least Magneto had a good point to make, even if he was a nutball."
"He was trying to convert us," Rogue added softly. "Joshua thinks he's the biblical Joshua, chosen to lead us poor unclean to the Promised Land." The bitter tone of her voice twisted in his gut like poison. "He should have been named Judas."
Logan thought about it for a minute. "That one was a traitor, right?"
It actually got a small laugh from her. "Yeah."
"So. Cyclops. Still wanna recruit him?"
Scott's perfect teeth were still bright in the dim light as he grinned. "Kiss my ass, Logan."
He grunted in acknowledgement, then took a better look at Rogue. Her cheek was striped in three deep red welts, turning purple in the center. He had no doubts who had slapped her with such force. He made a mental vow to gut the bastard. "How long we been here, and do we have any idea where 'here' is?"
"I'm thinkin' mebbe half a day. Sunlight's startin' to fade out dere. They plannin' somethin', though. Been hearin' construction sounds, hammers and chainsaws and such."
"We're about an hour or so away from New Orleans," Scott added. "We drove, so it's probably west or north."
"What happened to you two, anyway?"
"We got to the warehouse, but Creed was already gone. Some goons jumped the three of us, and just about the time I thought we were winning, Joshua nailed me. I told Storm to fly away. He must have tried to follow her, but I did heard a couple of lightning strikes." The slight grin flashed again.
"Storm will find your people and coordinate with ours. It's only a matter of time." Rogue seemed confident. Logan knew none of them were. With the attack on the bar, the Guild had to be hiding deep from a traitor who knew all their contingency plans.
"We may not have that luxury," Scott said baldly. "They know Storm escaped. Whatever their original plans, they've got to be changing their timetable."
"You really think your Stormy gal's gonna get a passle o' my people together and find us in time?"
"I sure hope so," Scott commented, shifting uncomfortably. "I really have to pee."
(Author's Note: For those who don't remember, Moses lead the Israelites out of Egypt, wandered for 40 years in the desert with them, but died before reaching the Promised Land. Joshua, his second in command, actually led the way to the Promised Land.)
**********
In the underground reaches of a Upper New York mansion, Charles Xavier sat in the hollow heart of Cerebro, eyes closed and brow creased in concentration. Finally, he raised his head and opened his eyes, staring at something that isn't there. "West," he breathed.
In the wood-paneled office above him, Jean Grey-Summers sat in a half- trance, her hand absently caressing the unborn child she carried. Over her brilliant red hair she wore a black phone headset. Dreamily, her eyes still drooping in her trance state, her fingers reached out and pressed a speed-dial button on the phone bank.
**********
Hovering far above Lake Pontchartrain, in the late afternoon sun, Storm pressed the earbug more firmly in her ear. The tiny black wire trailed to the cell phone zipped firmly in the front of her uniform, it's tiny green light blinking under her throat like a beacon as she banked and sped into strong light.
**********
In the driveway where Jean had greeted Logan with a smile, the younger generation of the X-Men waited tensely. St. John and Kitty leaned against the convertible, it's engine running quietly, while Bobby sat possessively in the driver's seat. Riding shotgun, Jubilee watched the front door with the same predatory intensity as the rest of her team. A bright yellow jacket topped her outfit, but did not disguise the black leather of her uniform underneath. Next to her, Kitty gnawed on a non-existent hangnail, her other hand thrust in the pocket of her uniform jacket.
"Where'd the Professor get another jet?" she asked, her voice thin. It wasn't a real question; it was just a way to pass the moments while they waited for Jean to appear.
"The Guild sent it, I think," Jubilee murmured back. Another thought occurred. "Did you get those crackers like I said?"
"Um, yeah," Kitty said. "Why'dya need 'em?"
"Not me. Jean. I'm not flying with Her Preggerness unless I'm armed."
**********
The ground rose shortly in the darkness, then sloped down and away from the group of mutants being herded by a crowd of Franklin Pierce's most fervent believers. Surrounded on all sides by the armed humans, Rogue kept her attention on keeping Cyclops' faltering steps from tripping them both up. They'd released her hands to allow her to help the blinded and cuffed man, but any thoughts she'd had about touching Scott and absorbing his powers had been circumvented by the duct tape that circled her gloved wrists tightly. Tempting though it was, Cyclops had forbade her to try it unless absolutely necessary.
Behind her, she heard Sabretooth's roar as he was hauled forward. Trussed as tightly as Logan, he was not taking his captivity well. His arms strained against the chains encircling his wrists, which were bolted to the hefty steel pipe across his back. More chains looped around his shoulders, keeping the pipe close to his body. Wolverine had caused enough trouble that the HC guards had knocked him off his feet and were dragging him over the dry grass.
Craning her neck, Rogue looked around for lights or any signs of civilization, but only marsh flats and twisted trees draped with Spanish moss stretched out beneath the lingering twilight as far as she could see. A fist lashed out of nowhere and cuffed her head, and she glared at the flat, impassive face of the HC guard who'd struck her. This man was Caucasian, but the next tan shirt was a Latino. Whites, blacks, even one who reminded her terribly of Jubilee surrounded her, but all wore similar hard expressions, implacable in their disgust of her and her kind.
At last the group in front of her parted, and the progression of burnt circles and piles of ash took a moment to register. When it did, she inhaled sharply, involuntarily. Five new pyres were waiting for them.
"What is it?" Scott asked. He turned his head into the breeze coming from the Gulf, sniffing in an almost funny imitation of Logan. Remy, standing nearby with his hands once again locked behind him, shook his head at her, but she ignored him.
Her hands tightened on Scott's arm, warningly. He had a right to know. "They're going to burn us at the stake."
He stiffened, but the shoulders straightened unconsciously. "Well. That's different. Good to see someone keeps up the old traditions."
The tails of her once white shirt flapped against her hip as strong hands ripped her away from Scott's side, and her throat choked as she realized she'd lost her chance. She could only watch, helpless, as one by one they were forced up a small ladder on the individual pyres. Logan and Sabretooth had the chains of their bonds pulled around to be nailed to the upright timber, once a telephone pole, that thrust through the heart of the stacked wood. The hammering echoed loudly across the landscape.
Franklin Pierce, coming late to his own party, frowned at the crucifixion image the two mutants presented. He waited until Rogue, Gambit, and Cyclops were each tied to their own stake, their handcuffs removed and substituted with harsh sisal rope. The guards who gingerly tied Rogue's hands behind her had to maneuver carefully on the tiny platform laid loosely at the top of the logs. Glancing down, Rogue could see the log cabin arrangement of wood and the tiny sense of humor she had left laughed at the pattern Scott had taught her on camping trips, years ago.
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," proclaimed Pierce to his assemblage.
"How original." Cyclops' voice carried just as well over the crowd, and the hisses of "quiet" from the people did nothing to intimidate him.
"These mutants are the spawn of Satan, and we shall send them back to their creator in the hellfires from which they came!" The crowd murmured in approval as Pierce stood on the bottom rung of Cyclops' ladder. "That one has the clearest markings of a demon of hell, " and Sabretooth growled menacingly at Pierce," but all of them are of the devil's making!"
"And you got all the markings of a psycopath!" yelled Remy.
"Shut up," ordered Joshua, from his place near his father's side.
"Look around you, Joshua," Remy shot back. "This is wrong, and you know it."
"Which is blackening your soul more?" Rogue added, unable to keep the bitter tones of betrayal and hurt out of her voice. "Being a mutant, or killing people who trusted you?"
Franklin Pierce turned his thoughtful, patriarchal gaze on his son. "Well, Joshua?" he challenged. "Will you damn your soul forever, and side with these… things?"
The silence stretched out for interminable moments. "No, Father," Joshua finally answered, softly.
Smiling with just a touch of triumph, Pierce held out his hand. One of the guards handed over a length of smooth wood. The end was wrapped in a swathe of white cotton, perhaps an old shirt, and soaked in paraffin and lighter fluid. A lighter sparked, the flickering light glowing a glorious warm light in the gathering darkness as the sunlight reluctantly faded from the marsh. A cool breeze from the sea caused the flame to gutter for a moment. Then the fire leapt eagerly to the end of the torch, licking up and around the fabric wrappings. He held it out, letting them all see their fate.
Abruptly a sonic boom broke over the group, followed by a scream of jet engines and the harsh sound of retros firing in the darkness.
"Jean!" shouted Scott, his bandaged face unerringly drawn up and out towards his soul-mate. His dry and bruised mouth moved minutely, his brow creasing in concentration as Jean's telepathic voice reached him.
Bright white sparks and multi-colored streams of plasma arced in the distance, accompanied by the ominous roll of thunder. The assembled mob of Champions dissolved into chaos. Some ran away into the wilderness, while the majority rallied and charged back towards the main camp. Several commanding voices shouted orders as the group headed back to defend their base. Pierce was immediately surrounded by his handlers; hard-faced men who urged him away.
"They will not stop God's work!!" Pierce thundered. "Joshua!!" He cast about desperately for his son, and spied him standing exactly where he'd been during their brief conversation. Striding forcefully, he grabbed his son by the front of his shirt. "Finish this, then join me." The spitting torch was thrust into Joshua's numb hands. "My work must be completed!"
"Yes, sir," Joshua replied, taking the torch. "I promise."
Joshua Pierce watched his father and the bodyguards as they disappeared over the rise, then scanned the sky, where the first star of the evening made a pale appearance. He paced towards the closest pyre, and stood motionless, despite the sounds of battle coming through the night, contemplating the torch in his hand.
"Joshua," Rogue called out, but stopped as the man shook his head.
"All I ever wanted was to serve God and my country, Rogue." Joshua raised his face to see her, hanging against the stake above the chest-high pile of wood. "Get married, raise a family…" His voice trailed off as he remembered the dreams that had died for him.
"And then I found out I was a mutant. God help me, I was one of the things I'd been taught to hate. I tried to hide it. I tried to pretend it didn't exist. I did everything I could think of the keep it from tearing my world apart."
Logan saw the blond demi-god swallow hard, a single tear track making its way down the man's cheek. "I was a good son, and a good soldier, and I ended up with NOTHING!" The word tore into the night with the raw anger of a man holding onto sanity by only the barest margin.
"And then you came here. You made me want to believe again, Rogue. You made me want things that I can't have!" The torch crackled in the still evening, whooshing softly with the erratic movements of its wielder. "The military doesn't want me. GOD doesn't want me. And even if you wanted me, you couldn't touch me!" A harsh laugh followed his anguished shout.
"I think I've finally figured it out," he said after a moment. "Finally, it all makes sense." The fire reflected off the tear track on his face. "We're already dead, Rogue. We're dead, and this is hell."
Joshua slowly approached her waiting pyre. "We're already dead," he repeated softly, then thrust the torch into the gasoline soaked wood. Greedily the fire spread at the base, following all the gasoline. Joshua watched the leaping, eager flames impassively, then looked up at Rogue. Like a stag clearing a fence, his mutant strength carried him in one prodigious leap to the top of the pyre.
Joshua's hand was almost hot as it cupped her face, pulling her mouth up to his. In contrast to his brutal grip around her waist, his kiss was gentle and passionate, until the familiar undertow hit her. Her torn shirt had slid off her shoulder, and the thin strap of her tank was not wide enough to act as insulation as Joshua's large hand dropped painfully onto her shoulder. His skin went gray and his mouth on hers gasped open in a rictus of pain, the veins of his face standing out boldly, but he made no effort to break from her. His entire body shaking, he sagged to his knees, buckling slowly like a burning building. His lips dragged their way down her cheek and neck as her talent pulled more and more life from him.
The fire spread quickly to the adjacent pyres, first to Gambit's, then Logan's. Behind the couple, the leaping, flickering flames began to rise. Joshua held Rogue in an iron grip, his hands circling her bared waist where her tattered shirt had left her exposed, and leaned his cheek against her naked belly like a lover.
Logan could barely hear the raging battle at the camp over the popping of the spreading flames. Despair was a vise in is chest as he could only watch as Rogue absorbed more and more of Joshua. Rogue's head was thrown back, in either pain or pleasure, her long hair whipping in the breeze. With a start Logan realized they were gasping in unison.
At last, Joshua Pierce dropped away from Rogue and slid down the pyre, dead, sparks flying up in the wake of his rolling body. Under Logan's horrified witness Rogue's back arched, then snapped her head forward, shaking in convulsions. Never before had she absorbed so much that her body attempted to reject the grafted energy. A strangled scream came from her as she lost consciousness and sagged limply in her bonds.
His vision hazed with impotent rage, Logan again yanked futily, desperately, against the chains and spikes pinning his arms. He did not consciously consider the mercy that Rogue would be unconscious when she died, only knew he was desperate to get to her. He paused in exhaustion, his abused muscles shaking and blood running freely from his wrists, before beginning again to wrench at the chains.
He did not see when Rogue's head came up, moving in dreamy leisure. The flames at her feet began to blacken the fabric of her jeans, the sparks flying up around her like an unholy halo. Sluggishly she glanced at the inferno around her, then down to where her arms disappeared around her back. When she gave the tied wrists a twist, the rope parted like rotted thread.
The flicker of movement drew Logan's stunned attention as Rogue leapt lightly to the ground. A slow turn of her head to see the fires, then she took another effortless bound that placed her beside LeBeau, where her suddenly immense strength had the knots giving way in seconds. She lifted him easily and flew them off the pyre. His hands were still taped together, and the tape tore under her fingertip as easily as a paper envelope.
Relief flooded through Logan like a drug as Rogue turned to him, but turned to apprehension as she continued her dispassionate calm while ripping at the chain holding his wrists. "Rogue?! Are you still in there?" He flinched as she pulled the nails out of his chains with her fingertips.
"ROGUE!!" he shouted in her face. She blinked, but made no response. Scooping him up in her arms, she brought him unceremoniously to the ground near Gambit, where he found his mistreated body did not want to stand upright yet, and immediately left him to free Cyclops. Within seconds, the younger man was sprawled next to him.
"What the hell is going on, Logan?" he demanded. His fingers hovered by his bandaged eyes, quivering in frustration. Logan glanced at the body of Joshua Pierce, lying backlit by the roaring flames like a Viking prince on his funeral barge.
"Joshua's dead," he said shortly.
"Rogue?" The shock vied with concern in Scott's voice. Logan made no response, but watched Rogue as she flew to the enemy that remained trapped atop a raging fire.
Sabretooth grinned with anticipation as Rogue freed him, the chains breaking like children's toys under her gloves. When his talon-tipped hands came free, he made a lunge for her throat. The snarl of satisfaction changed to a grunt of surprise as she grasped one massive thumb in each hand and pulled, forcing his hands away from the bare skin.
"We always were a slow learner," she growled. With a quick leap backward, she pulled the big mutant off the licking flames and sent him tumbling to the flattened earth. He scrambled to his feet to face her, the momentary shock of seeing her hovering several feet off the ground giving her ample time to slug him, a single punch that laid him out like a bad prizefighter.
Logan took a moment to drag Joshua's body further from the raging fire, uneasy with the detached, unconcerned way Rogue watched him. She had not responded to any questions, and he was leery of pushing her while she was still at Joshua's full strength. Sabretooth remained unconscious, and when he considered the effort it would take to truss the man up, dismissed the idea entirely.
An explosion over the hill caught everyone's attention.
"I think we're missing the party, Cyke," Logan commented.
"Then let's go," Scott ordered. He startled when Logan grabbed his arm, but let his teammate pull him upright. LeBeau left off scavenging for small rocks on the ground, stowing the handful of golf ball-sized missiles in the appropriate pocket.
"I've told Jean we're safe," Scott commented as he stumbled over the ground he could not see. "She's told the team where we are."
"Jeannie's stayin' in the Blackbird, right?" Logan queried, not really a question. His attention and wholesale concern remained on the lithe form of the woman in front of him. Rogue's walk was different than usual; but oddly, it seemed to change from moment to moment, from a hunter's stalk to a short-stepping march, then back to easy gait he was accustomed to seeing. She walked up the slope that separated the base camp of Humanity's Champions from their execution field, then paused to wait for the rest of them. He considered the fact that she even acknowledged their existence as some progress.
Rogue had once told him that managing the people in her head was similar to juggling. Surprisingly, that was a skill at which Lensherr was adept, and which she'd demonstrated, laughing when Logan teased her. Now, his gut twisted with the worry that Joshua's absorption could be too much for her to handle.
At the crest of the hill, Rogue surveyed the compound, one corner of which was burning as brightly as the pyres they'd left behind them.
"That's a really bad idea," she commented, the light trace of her accent completely missing. "The armory's in that wing."
Logan gave her a level look, then gave Cyclops' arm a tug. "Better tell Jean they need to get that fire out."
"Gotcha," Scott replied, his attention turning inward. A moment later, a breeze rippled through the grasses, pulling moist air from the south. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
As they approached the buildings they'd been summarily marched out of earlier for their execution, several figures appeared in the smoke and gloom, weirdly lit by the fire behind them. A few stray raindrops pattered down as Jubilee, Iceman, and Shadowcat came closer.
"Pyro's helping Storm control the fire," Jubilee volunteered. She fished in the pocket of her soot-smirched yellow jacket, and came out with a curve of black. "Here," she said, guiding Scott's hands to his visor as he shook off Logan's hand.
"Thank God," he breathed, tucking it under his arm and tearing at the bandages over his eyes. He grimaced but continued to ruthlessly remove the tape until his face was bare. Cyclops' boyish features were still too young for Logan's comfort, but it was something he'd accepted in the years they'd fought side by side. Once the visor was back on, the leader of the X-Men was once again in charge. "Status?"
"Most of the goons are under control. The Guild sent some people along to help," reported Bobby. "They're out searching for the strays now."
"The fire is contained to one building," added Jubilee. Pyro said it will be about five minutes before he gets it out completely."
Scott glanced at Rogue, who stood with her hands clasped lightly behind her back, her feet apart in the at-ease stance of a soldier. "Iceman, see what you can do to help Johnny get it out faster."
"Check," Bobby replied, disappearing into the darkness again.
"Any sign of Pierce?"
"A car tried to run me down when we got here," commented Kitty. "The engine died when I phased through it, but no one was left in the car when we went to check."
"Then he's still around. Kitty, show Wolverine the car. Logan -- find him." The flat finality of Cyclops' voice was without pity. Logan nodded.
"We need to find his little science project, too," he growled. "Those disks the CIA lost? I'm betting they're here in the compound somewhere."
"Great," Cyclops replied dryly. "Jubilee, I want you to get Rogue on the Blackbird and keep her there."
"Uhm, sure," she responded. "Why the house arrest, if ya don't mind my asking?"
The rebellious tones in her voice earned her a possible glare from behind the red visor, but Logan answered the question. "Rogue's had a rough couple days. Take care of her, alright?"
The younger girl shrugged. "Whatever you say, big guy. C'mon, sweetie. It's quittin' time."
"Jubilee," Rogue acknowledged an odd voice, peering down as her as she took Rogue's arm.
Logan and Kitty set off towards the far side of the compound, but had gone no more than a dozen yards before he reached out and stopped her. Cyclops and Gambit saw him freeze, and called out to Jubilee to stop.
A single figure surged out of the grass past Logan and Shadowcat, careening wildly up the path towards the way they'd come. Almost barreling into Jubilee, Franklin Pierce reeled out of the women's way and staggered towards the small rise, only to be confronted by Cyclops and Gambit. The old man recoiled violently and turned to flee, only to see Logan suddenly blocking his way.
His white shock of hair even more unkempt than usual, he swore incoherently as he spun around, searching for an escape, but was thwarted by the mutants who moved to surround him. His eyes glittered in the light of the burning buildings, reflecting a not-quite-sane gleam as he came to bay in the circle of X-Men. A tire iron wavered in his trembling grip.
"Joshua!" he screamed skyward, virulent hate distending the cords of his neck as he raged. "Where are you? Answer me, BOY!!"
"Mr. Pierce," Cyclops called commandingly. Pierce whirled. "Mr. Pierce… your son is dead." Only his basic decency let the words come out with the smallest particle of regret.
"He cannot be dead. My son is invulnerable!! God's grace protects him to be my instrument!"
"Everyone has their weaknesses," Logan stressed flatly. He'd meant that in a purely military context, but that was not how the words were received.
"No. NO!" He cast about the X-men, the manic glint in his eye growing wilder. "YOU!" he shouted. "Whore of hell, what did you do to him?"
Swinging wildly, Pierce laid into Rogue with the tire iron, despite Logan's abortive attempt to intervene. Rogue took the blows without flinching, in fact, without any visible effect. Jubilee gasped, one of the few times Logan had ever heard the firecracker taken aback.
"Have you lost a tool, or have your lost a son?" Rogue demanded coolly, contempt dripping from the European accent in her voice.
Screaming incoherently, Franklin Pierce swung wildly, a blow that should have split the skull of any human. But a human did not stand before him, and when Rogue's hand shot out and grabbed the length of iron, it was suddenly as immobile as a mountain. With a casual jerk she pulled it from his hands and slung it away in the darkness. Pierce goggled at her, his mouth working without sound, until her other hand rose and backhanded him with an explosive slap. His body landed several feet away.
Rogue stalked up to the man who lay moaning in the dust. Logan seized her shoulders in a hard grip. "Get a handle on this, Rogue. Keep control."
"Piss off, runt," she bit out, before wrenching her arms from his grasp. "I got it," she added in a quieter voice. "I'm all right."
"We don't have much time before the authorities show up," Scott called. Jubilee was trussing the semi-conscious Pierce with a length of dark rope. "I want those disks found and destroyed before we leave." He turned to Jubilee and her prisoner. "Get him to the jet. Jean might be able to dig it out of his conscious thoughts, but I don't want her and the baby out here where someone can take a pot shot at her."
"He doesn't go anywhere near Jeannie," Rogue snarled in a low voice. She stalked towards Jubilee and her prisoner, and Pierce shrank from the young woman who'd so casually beaten him.
"Rogue, don't!" warned Cyclops as tried to stop her, she pushed his chest with her fingertips and sent him staggering backwards. She grabbed the front of the Reverend's shirt and hoisted him up.
"Human," she said, the European lilt back in her voice. Holding up her hand, the tip of her index finger emerged as the other fingers inched down the torn glove-tip. "Where is the information you stole?" The faintest crease of concern went through the old man's face, as he realized he was completely at her mercy, but never realizing the question had been asked to deliberately bring the information to the top of his mind.
"Rogue, STOP!" shouted Logan, shoving forward to grab her arm, just an instant too late. Her fingertip touched Pierce's lined cheek, turning it gray for a moment before Logan yanked her hand away.
She dropped Pierce, shaking her head as she made sense of his mind.
Her posture changed slightly as the balanced yet another personality in her head. "Father," she said in a begging voice, her head twisting as she fought for control.
"Tell Kat the disks and a biohazard container are in the walk-in safe hidden behind the south wall of the basement. There's a framed print of Christ hanging on it. The booby traps are electronic… phasing through them should take 'em out."
After a moment, she began to laugh, and her own voice came forth. "You're a fool, Pierce. The 'bio-weapon' you paid so much for... it's worthless. It's killed virus, used for inoculations. It's completely harmless." She dropped the old man, still laughing, then suddenly snarled at him.
Rogue's hand shot out, fingers wide, and the metal tire iron came winging out of the darkness into her palm. Her eyes were black in the firelight. "No -- Stand Down!" she ordered, then tensed, jaw clenched, muscles frozen as different personalities vied for dominance.
Her back arched painfully as she fought the voices in her head, her fingers digging into the disordered tangle of hair. Logan caught her as she collapsed, and she buried her face into his chest as strangled sounds came from her throat, her body still twitching convulsively.
"Shit!" he cursed, trying to turn her over enough, his bare hand reaching for her face, but Cyclops stopped him.
"Her body isn't hurt. You can't help her."
**********
In a misty gray landscape, Rogue walked past a plain concrete wall. Doors hung open all along the avenue, and as she approached one, she peered inside. A teenage boy stood in the center of the cell, his skin oddly gray under the bright white light that made the walls of the room indistinct. He stared at her defiantly until she stepped back.
The door to the boy's cell swung shut of its own accord. Rogue's hesitant steps took her to the next doorway. Inside, Magneto spared her a single glance before returning to his contemplation of a chessboard, the pieces fully engaged in a complex game. That door also closed with a clang, and Lensherr ignored her as he moved his queen. Logan occupied the third cell. Seated in a simple folding chair, his feet were spread wide with his elbows planted on his knees. A cigar dangled from his fingers. The smoke curled through the air as he gave her a slight smirk. A tiny glimmer of fondness curved her mouth, and she left that door partially open. The next half-dozen doors swung shut as she surveyed the row of cells. From the barred window of his cell, Sabretooth snarled viciously at her. She walked down the hall, peering in the little windows. The final door was wide open, but empty, save for a branch of pale purple flowers on the floor. Tentatively, she picked it up.
Suddenly, Charles Xavier was standing at her side, his expression one of calm patience.
"What is it?" he asked calmly.
"Hyssop flowers," Rogue answered. Her fingers caressed the blossoms. "He isn't here," she said softly. "I can't find him anywhere."
"Rogue," began the Professor, startling backwards as she whirled.
"He's not here!" Rogue shouted.
In the library, Xavier flinched suddenly, pulling his fingers from Rogue's loose hair as her head came off the soft arm of the sofa with a lurch. He moved his wheelchair from beside the sofa to a closer proximity to Rogue, and waited as she swung her feet over the edge and sat up.
"Sorry, Professor," she said, and he gave her a pained smile.
"It's quite all right, Rogue. Your defenses are… quite formidable. I must say I'm impressed. "How do you feel?"
"Empty," she replied after a moment of reflection, her voice equally empty.
"The personalities you've absorbed are all still there, Rogue. They've simply been put away. You should, with practice, be able to access them when you choose."
"Except Joshua," she added bleakly.
"I'm afraid so. I found no trace of him." Xavier regarded her with fondness, not a little intrigued. "I'm not sure exactly how you received Joshua's abilities without absorbing his personality, and so unfortunately I cannot predict how long you'll be able to utilize them."
"Joshua wanted to die," she said quietly, fiddling with her gloves. "He didn't want to exist any more. And he doesn't, not even in me."
Xavier seemed to be unsure of how to address the sense of loss in her voice, and unable to think of anything else to say. "Well. I suggest you get some rest. You've had a very trying time." He paused, obviously feeling the need to say more.
"Franklin Pierce and his organization were among the strongest supporters of the Sentinal proposal. Exposing his activities of Humanity's Champions has created a backlash of sympathy for mutants, and without the organization's political support, the Sentinel bill has been postponed in all congressional hearings." Deliberately, he reached out and pressed his fingers over her clasped, gloved hands. "We're all very proud of you, Rogue.
She nodded shakily, her white-shot hair slithering loosely over her shoulders. Xavier's silent chair carried him from the room, and she stared at the carpet for a long moment. Moving gingerly, careful of her new strength, Rogue moved to the window. The sheer white curtain hissed against her gloves as she pulled it aside to see the kids playing on the lawn, including Tommy, his furry shoulders covered only by a tank top as the rest of the children wore long sleeves and jackets. They were kicking a ball around, shouting exuberantly, happy.
Suddenly she was aware of Logan, leaning silently against the bookcases. Whether he was there all along, or had silently appeared in his usual way while she was looking out, she could not have said.
Her mouth moved, as though she would say something, but looked out the window again rather than continue to meet his steady gaze. Pushing away from the bookcase, Logan crossed the empty room and stood beside her, looking down on the crown of her head.
"Would you rather be alone?" he asked, his voice gravely.
She shook her head in tiny, jerky movements. Carefully, Logan folded her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. Together, unmoving, they watched the children outside playing on the lawn.
After a bit, Rogue stirred in the circle of his arms. "I think I need some air."
"Okay. Wanna take a ride?"
"Actually…" Rogue started. The quiet tones of her voice rose, and Logan pulled back to look at her. A tiny frown creased her forehead as she thought, then a small smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. She glanced up at him through her lashes, an arch expression that he'd never yet been able to refuse. "I was kinda thinking about something else."
That got her the eyebrow, but he didn't question her. At least, not until it was far too late.
Franklin Pierce had convinced his only son that the mutant powers he possessed were shameful, something to hide. And while Rogue had never been ashamed, exactly, her energy absorbing talent was hardly something that could be considered enjoyable. Now, despite everything, she had been given an ability that didn't hurt anyone. Several, actually, considering the strength and invulnerability that showed no signs of fading. And if she had nothing else of Joshua, she at least had his gifts. If he had never been able to enjoy them, surely she could enjoy them in his memory.
Several minutes later, Logan followed Rogue down the back steps to the expansive back yard of the mansion, grumbling but inwardly glad at the rallying spirits of the woman in front of him. Across the yard, Tommy gave Rogue a furry wave, and she returned it with a smile.
"I feel stupid in this getup."
"Well, you don't look stupid. You look like a fighter pilot."
"I look like one of Jubilee's S & M music videos." The web strapping hung off of his huge frame like a jet pilot's parachute harness.
"It's either this, or piggyback," she warned.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled, and pulled out the Matrix-style sunglasses Jubilee had given the entire team as a gag Christmas gift. "You sure I need the shades?"
"Definitely. We don't need to find out the hard way if you can regrow an eyeball." Rogue circled him, checking the fit of the harness until he slapped her hands away with a mock growl.
The sight of her brilliant smile as she put on her own sunglasses was worth looking like a dork, even if Scott did see him. "Okay. Let's do this."
"Hang on," she warned from behind him.
"No," he corrected. "YOU hang on. Don't drop me."
He felt her small hands grab the webbing over his shoulder blades, then the gentle tug upwards as she rose off the ground. The straps tightened around his body.
"Ready, sugar?"
Sugar? Where had that come from? "Ready as I'll ever be." With a lurch his feet left the ground, causing him to grab convulsively for the secure harness across his chest. The grass dropped away beneath him and the wind blowing through the points of his hair increased suddenly.
An uncontrollable whoop came from his lungs as she accelerated sharply, pulling them into the air, circling the house and the stately trees wearing their brilliant autumn colors. The sounds of the children pausing in their soccer game to cheer came to Wolverine's ears, and a huge grin spread over his face. He heard Rogue laugh in exhilaration, and glancing up, caught the joy on her face.
His hands reached up, found her gloved hands where they gripped his harness, and took a firm hold. "Punch it."
And she did.
~fin~