Ashes to Ashes

Jim Steinman. Bat Out Of Hell

Kicking his bike up into high gear, Remy roared down the road, mindless of everything but the road, the wind, and the feeling of freedom riding gave him. Maybe I cannot fly like Rogue, he thought, as he leaned the bike into a tight curve, but when I really get cruising, this comes pretty damn close!

He needed to ride today, needed to get away from things and just "let his hair down." Things were getting tense lately between him and Rogue and what was worse, he knew deep down a lot of the problems were really his fault. Rogue was pretty much an innocent when it came to relationships and he certainly was not.

And I'm the one that keeps pushing her for more, Remy thought. Not that I blame myself, she's worth the risk, but she doesn't want to see me hurt. I should be flattered she cares so much about me...but concern for my safety is not exactly what I'm thinking about on a warm summer night...

Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw the black car coming up from behind him. Little too fast that one, he thought, as he twisted on the accelerator to try to put some speed in between the two of them. Wonder what HIS hurry is?

As he sped up, so did the car. A chill went through Remy that had nothing to do with the wind. I think that car is trying to catch up to me, he thought.

He leaned forward, trying to lower the wind resistance on the bike. Cold fingers of fear sped through him as he looked in the rearview mirror. The black car was doing it's level best to catch up.

The road was a mass of twists and turns. Remy was forced to slow down a bit. How can that car do it? he thought. How can the driver keep movin' faster! Doesn't he realize it's dangerous? Then he realized... it didn't matter to the driver. All he/she cared about was catching up to him.

For the first time in his life, Remy prayed that there would be a cop hiding in the trees, waiting to catch speeders. But God didn't feel like answering his request.

The car was close now.... much too close. Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket, Remy pulled out a card and started charging it. He flung it behind him, not really wanting to hit the car, but to startle the driver so he'd back off.

Just as he flung the card, he the car pulled into the other lane and started trying to pull along side him. The explosion from the card startled the driver and he lost control of the vehicle. The car spun out of control, smashing into Remy and his bike. The bike flew into the air and landed, skidding down the road. Remy was flung from the bike and went skidding down the road. His last thought was that he really wished he'd decided to wear a helmet.

The car spun off the road and down the embankment. The driver stared as the ground rushed to catch up with him. I blew it this time, he thought. But, at least I die knowing I took another one of those scum with me!

Rogue paced the hall in front of the MedLab, waiting for Hank to come out. Fear raced through her. This is the worst part, she thought. The waiting...

Jean stood up and walked over to her. "Rogue, I...I'm sure he'll be fine..."

Rogue looked at her. "Jean, I'm so scared..." she said, sniffing. "He...he came so close to..." She shut her eyes, trying to chase that last thought away. "I... I love him, Jean... I don't want him to die."

"I know," Jean said, putting her hand on Rogues shoulder.

"Jean, I..I'm grateful to you," she murmured, through the tears. "If you hadn't sensed him...."

"I didn't sense him," Jean interrupted. "It was Kyle."

Rogue's eyes went wide. "Kyle?"

Jean nodded. "I was working with him, with the flash cards...." she hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should tell Rogue the next part. "Kyle...Kyle was holding one of the flash cards we use to test his abilities.... Suddenly, he started charging the card... just like Remy does..."

Rogue gasped. "Are you sayin..."

"I don't know what I'm saying," Jean said quickly. "I'm just telling you what happened. He charged up the card, but it went out as quickly as it charged up. Then he looked at me and said, 'Gambit is hurt real bad and he's gonna die if we don't do something now!'"

Rogue bit her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. "So was Remy... did Remy have one of those... you know, when someone is actually legally dead..."

"I don't know," Jean admitted. "I do know that when Kyle told me, I scanned for him and found him. He...he was slipping away fast... I... I was able to keep the pain in check until Hank and I could go rescue him."

"So I suppose I owe you, Kyle, and Hank that he's still alive..." Rogue looked at the door of the MedLab... "Or at least that I hope he's still...."

Just as she was about to finish her sentence, Hank came out of the room. Rogue stared at him. "H..how..."

"He's going to be okay," Hank assured her. "He's got two broken arms, a broken leg, several cracked ribs, a cracked pelvic bone, and he left a good part of his skin on the road, but believe it or not, Rogue, he'll survive. And with the technology we have here in the mansion, once he heals, you'll probably never be able to tell it happened to him."

"H...how is he now?" Rogue asked.

"Sleeping," Hank answered. "I had to sedate him to work on him and he'll be sleeping that off for awhile. Still, if you'd like to go and see him, that should be fine."

"Th...thank you," Rogue said. "Thank you for...everything..."

"Rogue, he's a member of the team," Hank said softly. "I could do no less."

"I know," Rogue replied, as she walked into the MedLab. "But that doesn't make what you did any more special to me."

When she was out of earshot, Hank looked at Jean. "I wouldn't want to be in my shoes if I'd lost him."

"That's what love will do for you," Jean said, smiling weakly. "I'm just glad Remy's going to be okay."

"He's lucky," Hank commented. "He could have died very easily."

"What scares me, Hank is I think he did," Jean said. "And what scares me even more is that I think I've figured out what Kyle's mutant ability is."

"What is that?" Hank asked.

"I think Kyle absorbs the power of mutants who die."

If Hank had been holding something in his hands, he would have dropped it.

"Are you sure?" Hank asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"No, of course I'm not positive," Jean answered. "But look at the facts... the boy has a psychic ability far beyond most people... just like the professor had. That little girl in town, the one who died, Kerri Baldwin..."

"We don't know for sure if she was a mutant..." Hank interrupted.

"Bull Hank, and you know it," Jean stated flatly. "Cerebro detected her a couple years ago. We were waiting to see what would happen before we approached her. I was talking to Jubilee, who said some of the other kids in town called her Charlie, after the girl in the Steven King book, Fire Starter. Apparently some of her closest friends knew of her ability and teased her about it. She dies and suddenly Kyle can turn himself into a pint sized version of the Human Torch. Now today, Gambit comes about as close to dying as someone can, and for a brief moment, Kyle is able to charge things up."

"There could be..." Hank began.

"Another explanation for it?" Jean finished for him. "Perhaps, but what other rationalization could there be?"

"I don't know," Hank admitted. "But Jean, Mutants die all the time. If that indeed is Kyle's gift, then he should be showing a lot of different abilities, not just two or three."

"Maybe distance has something to do with it," Jean suggested. "Maybe the person can't be too far away when they die."

"Jean, I'll admit what your saying is a possibility," Hank consented, "But I'm not going to conclude anything without more evidence. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go and inform everyone that Gambit is fine and should recover nicely."

As he walked away, Jean watched him, shaking her head. You don't even want to admit it's even a possibility, she thought. Because an ability like that could be extremely dangerous. Not only to Kyle, but to everyone.

Hank McCoy was a little surprised that Kyle wasn't in the living room with everyone else, when he came to inform the group of Gambit's condition. After he relayed his news, (and waited for the cheering to end--everyone had been more than a little worried about Remy) he asked Logan where Kyle was.

"I think he went upstairs," Logan said. "He seemed upset about something. I just assumed it was because of Remy. He said he wanted to be alone, and we respected his wishes. He's probably in his room."

"I'll go find him," Hank said.

Kyle's room was at the end of the hall, right next to Hanks. The door was shut. Hank knocked. No answer. "Kyle?" he called out. "Kyle, are you there?"

Silence.

Hank slowly opened the door and looked around. The bed was neatly made, as it usually was, and on the desk was Kyle's usual pile of clutter. Books, comic books, attractive rocks he'd found while playing outside, a penknife Logan had given him.. the usual things young boys found interesting. Hank walked over to the desk and looked down at it the comic books. An issue of Batman, Superman, and The Avengers. All of them wrinkled as if they'd been rolled up and shoved into his back pocket. Obviously no one has taught this child about the triple bagging preserving forever process kids now go through with comic books, Hank thought. He treats them like I did when I was his age.

He looked over at the pile of books Kyle had either read, or was reading. Two Christopher Pike teenage horror mystery books, which were probably borrowed from Jubilee, one of those romance books Rogue and Jean sometimes liked, (Hank picked it up and noticed in amusement that the more spicy parts of the story were carefully marked with strips of paper) a copy of Sports Illustrated, and Field and Stream. From what Hank could see, the boy's taste in literature was typical of someone his age and maturity. Yet, when he picked up the magazines, he noticed underneath, two medical books. Very large, thick medical books which even Hank had to admit were pretty dull, dry reading. He picked up one about genetics that had been written by a friend of his, Dr. Lee, and opened it. A piece of paper fell out of it. He looked at the paper, there were notes scribbled all over it in Kyle's handwriting. Hank was about to start reading them when he heard a noise, coming from the bathroom. A squeaking noise, that sounded like someone was cleaning a mirror... Or perhaps, a sneaker, rubbing against a tile floor, Hank thought.

He put the paper back in the book, closed the book and put it back on the desk, exactly where it had been left. Then he walked over to the bathroom door. "Kyle?"

Just as with the bedroom door, there was no answer.

Hank knocked again. "Kyle, are you in there?"

Again, there was no answer, but Hank listened carefully and hear the sounds of someone breathing. "Kyle, are you in there?" He waited a few seconds and then tried the door. It was unlocked. "Kyle, I know your in there," he called out as he opened the door. "I hope I'm not catching you in the middle of something, but you didn't answer me..." He looked inside.

Kyle was sitting in the bathtub, which had no water in it, fully dressed. He was curled up, his arms wrapped around his legs, his head resting on his knees. Hank walked over. "Kyle?"

Kyle looked up. There were tears in his eyes, but no evidence that been crying, only that he seemed about to. "H-Hi, Uncle Hank," he said, his voice sounding very small. "I'm sorry I didn't answer you. I-I was thinking..."

"That's all right," Hank assured him, sitting down on the edge of the tub. "I just wanted to tell you that Remy is going to be fine."

"I know." He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "Well, I didn't know if he was gonna be okay, but I knew he wasn't dead." He curled himself into a tighter ball, his back pressed up against the end of the tub. "When I was little, whenever I was worried about something, I'd go and hide in the bathtub. My...my Mom and Dad never looked for me there."

"Really?" Hank said, trying to keep his voice controlled. He had a feeling that if he acted upset, anxious, or worried, Kyle would stop talking. "Do you remember who you are now?"

Kyle nodded. "Wh...when Gambit got hurt... it was like something in my head... in my brain, broke loose an' I remembered a lot of things."

"Uh hu," Hank commented slowly. "So, is Kyle really your name?"

Kyle shook his head. "My...my real name is Jimmy... but, I'd rather be called Kyle, if it's okay."

"That's fine," Hank said. He wanted to scoop Kyle up and hug him, but he didn't dare. There was something about the way the child was speaking that suggested any sudden movement was going to startle him.

"Kyle was my older brother," the child went on to explain. "He died when I was eleven and he was thirteen."

Hank nodded, feeling a shiver go up his spine.

"He was Mom an' Dad's favorite," Kyle said, in a low monotone. "That didn't mean much though. Dad used to beat him too. Dad used to beat both of us... he didn't want to, he had to, because we were bad... we didn't wanna be bad, but we were..."

Inwardly, Hank cringed. Now the reasons for Kyle's scars and old injuries was coming to light. Why do some people have children only to abuse them? he wondered.

"Kyle was a mutant too," Kyle said, tipping his head on his knees so he could look at Hank. "He could.. make you see things that weren't really there... Um..."

"An illusionist?" Hank filled in for him.

Kyle nodded, confirming Hank's words. "When he died, then I could do it."

"H... how did Kyle die?" Hank asked, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.

"Dad lost his temper," Kyle explained. "He.. he was coming towards me an... an Kyle got in his way... to stop him.." Tears started spilling from his eyes, although his voice remained calm and flat. "Dad pushed him out of the way an Kyle went falling down the stairs... his head... he hit his head on the floor... it was one of those tile floors..."

"It's all right," Hank said. cautiously, he reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You don't have to go into detail if it upsets you."

Kyle sniffled, whipping his nose on the knees of his jeans. "At first I just thought that maybe I could do what Kyle did, cause we were related. You know, same color eyes, same color hair, same mutant ability... but then all those mutants... the one hiding beneath the streets... they all were killed."

"What happened then?" Hank asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't remember clearly," Kyle said. "But it was like I was...a million different people suddenly. I could do anything... my head hurt real bad. I was with my folks an' Dad got mad at me... an' I just looked at him... I was so mad at him for what happened to Kyle... an' Dad said it was MY fault Kyle died, cause he was tryin' to defend a wimp like me. An' I looked at him an' looked at him.. and all the stuff in my head, all the bad stuff ... all the things I could do that could HURT someone... I just pushed it all at him..." He looked down at his knees for a moment, then back at Hank. "I killed him."

"Kyle, it sounds to me as if it was more self defense and an accident, rather than murder," Hank said softly.

"Does it matter to him?" Kyle asked. "Dead is dead."

Hank didn't know what to say to that.

"After that I collapsed. I went to sleep an' it was like no one could wake me up..."

Overload, Hank thought. Out of self defense and self preservation, he went into a coma. He didn't know if this was fact or not, but it made sense with what Kyle was explaining to him, through his tears and broken sentences. "What finally woke you up?" Hank asked.

"When Charles died," Kyle explained. "It was like when he was dying, he went into my head... Like he knew I'd be able to absorb his powers... an'... an' he told me to come here.... that his mutant ability would help to keep any others I... got in check an' that you an' Aunt Jean, and the other people here... they could maybe help me."

Even in death, Charles reached out to help another mutant, Hank thought, not knowing if this thought made him happy or sad. "So you woke up and came here?" he asked.

Kyle nodded. "No one at the hospital was really watching me, I mean, I wasn't doing much... just sleeping. So I just left."

"Do you know why you weren't able to remember anything when you got here?" Hank asked.

Kyle shook his head. "I just forgot... I don't know... maybe it was having too much stuff in my head... I lost everything. All I knew was when I saw this place was to come here. It wasn't till today that I started remembering all this stuff." He looked at Hank, his eyes wide with fear. "I'm scared, Uncle Henry. I'm real scared."

Hank leaned over and picked Kyle up, hugging him tightly. For a moment, the child stiffened, then returned his embrace, burying his face in Hank's shoulder. "It's going to be all right," he said, trying to comfort him.

"No, it isn't," Kyle disagreed.

"Why do you say that?" Hank asked.

Kyle hiccuped. "Cause this thing I do... this taking the abilities from mutants who die... It isn't permanent. Soon enough what the professor gave me is going to fade away. Then I'm not going to have anything helping to keep this power stuff in check."

The frightening thing for Hank was knowing, deep down that Kyle was right.