by Neva Laurie
Moments later
Storm reached the Danger Room door and landed, quickly punching the access code. She watched impatiently as the door slid aside, begrudging it the few seconds it lengthened her trip. Beast sprung up to stand by her side, rushing through the door behind her as soon as it was open wide enough for his cumbersome form to pass.
Storm left her feet again as soon as the door was far enough open for her to fit through it, flying to her friend's side. She landed deftly and dropped to her knees by Rogue in one fluid motion. The brunette was sprawled on the Danger Room floor amongst mangled robots, proof she had vanquished her opponents before being overcome. A staff lay by her, clasped weakly in one limp hand, one of many such instruments scattered about the room.
Beast stopped and crouched by Storm, reaching one paw out to rest on Rogue's neck, feeling for a pulse. Storm's wide blue eyes met his, full of concern, and he held her gaze. "She lives," he said in a soft, firm voice. "I can't guarantee recovery. She must be taken to the infirmary immediately."
Storm nodded tense agreement. "Where is Jubilee?"
"She went into the control room to examine Rogue's program," Beast explained, carefully lifting the fallen woman and standing. "She thought determining the type of injury might be beneficial in treatment."
"She shall assume we are taking Rogue for treatment. I do not need to wait for her," Storm decided, moving to proceed ahead of Beast to clear his path and open doors.
Meanwhile
"A custom-made program, huh?" Jubilee mused. "Not one she had in storage." It had taken her a minute to get the computer back to voice command so she could use it, but she’d had to take the time since she wasn’t adept at using its manual mode.
"That is correct," the computer replied.
Jubilee rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking to you, but now I am. Describe the program."
"Rogue requested to have ten robots sent against her, all cloaked in a hologram image previously on file. They were to be randomly armed from two possibilities."
"Display hologram image," Jubilee requested, struggling to stick to terms the computer wouldn't call syntaxes on.
"Image displayed."
Jubilee gasped as the familiar face appeared. She recovered quickly. It really did make sense, knowing Rogue and the love-hate relationship she seemed to have with him. "And were these weapons, by any chance, collapsing staves and explosive cards?"
"Negative and affirmative."
"What?" Jubilee asked, startled. She wasn't expecting a reply. Then she quickly added, "I mean, clarify."
"The staves were not to be made collapsible; this detail was not specified in the program."
"Oh," Jubilee murmured. "Same difference," she added in a low mutter.
"Please repeat more distinctly."
"Nevermind," she replied, rolling her eyes at it again. Dumb machine, she thought. But it makes sense that Rogue's in pretty bad shape. Least she’s alive. Without her powers, she shouldn't even have survived against ten of Gambit. Admittedly, the program would likely have given her no trouble with her powers intact, but as it was it had nearly killed her. "Wait till I tell Storm!" she murmured and rushed from the control room, ignoring the computer's request for clarification.
Seconds later
The blonde was absolutely perfect: sweet, wild, and eager. She had managed to nearly completely clear from his mind all thoughts of...her. Thoughts began flooding back, and he pushed them desperately away, roughly drawing the blonde closer, feeling her hands respond, caressing his back. He tried again to lose himself in the physical sensations.
A shattering noise broke the near silence, and the blonde's piercing scream followed it. Gambit whirled around to see Wolverine, claws extended, standing among the splinters of what had moments earlier been the door to Gambit's room. Gambit's surprised, outraged cry died on his lips as a growl rose in Wolverine's throat.
"You," he snarled, pointing his claws at the blonde. "Get out! Now!" As she hesitated, eyes wide in shock, he took a menacing step forward. "Go however you want, as long as it’s fast. Just leave!" At another growl, she recovered from her paralysis and fled through the half-open window.
Furious and shocked, Gambit turned on the intruder. "Mon ami, don' you..."
"Shut up, Cajun," Wolverine said harshly, struggling to keep his temper in check. "Come along easy, and I won't use these on anything else." Slowly, he retracted his claws, the scraping of metal ringing in Gambit's ears.
Dozens of questions and outraged protests whirled through his head, but all Gambit managed to say was, "Go where, mon ami?"
"Just shut up and come," Wolverine growled, turning and striding off furiously, expecting Gambit to follow, which he did.
Wolverine stormed down the hall, muttering angrily to himself. A few phrases floated back to Gambit, but they were too hazy and indistinct to make any sense. In a sudden burst of anger, Wolverine rounded on Gambit. "You've nearly killed her, and you don't care!" he exclaimed. "She's laying there, bleeding, slipping away, and you're messing around with some slut from who-knows-where!"
A sudden rush of panic froze Gambit's heart. "Who, mon ami? What 'appen?"
Wolverine was too caught up in his ranting to reply. He may not even have heard. The flow of angry words was cut off as he stopped suddenly by the infirmary door. "Gumbo, if anything happens to her," Wolverine threatened fiercely, turning and opening the door without finishing.
A scene of somewhat organized chaos met Gambit's eyes as he entered the room. Jubilee was babbling nervously to Storm who hovered worriedly behind Beast, trying to watch without interfering. Beast was working carefully on a bloody, motionless patient dressed in green and yellow. Mon dieu, no.
Wolverine left Gambit's side to relieve Storm of Jubilee's nervous chatter. Jean moved to intercept Gambit's slow progress towards Beast and his patient. "What 'appen, chere?" he asked softly, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
"Let's go where we can talk without disturbing Beast's work," Jean said soothingly, linking one arm through Gambit's and guiding him gently to a small room where he couldn’t see the bloody work being done on his beloved. She then released him and softly closed the door behind them. "Now," she said calmly, seating herself and gesturing for him to do likewise. "How much do you already know?"
At his blank expression and the slow, bewildered shaking of his head, Jean sighed. "I'll start at the beginning of what I know. Storm took Rogue to meet a Morlock who could remove her powers for a few hours. My knowledge is vague from there. Jubilee claims Rogue set up a program in the Danger Room which was too much for her with her powers removed. She was against ten robots, cloaked in your image. Fortunately, considering the built-in assumptions regarding her invulnerability, she managed to defeat them all before collapsing. Beast is caring for her. I don't know how she is." Jean paused thoughtfully. "If I may ask, what upset her? She was reportedly excited and happy when she left Storm's company."
Gambit's shocked, guilty face and her memory of briefly touching his mind gave her a decent clue of the answer he refused to speak. Instead of admitting his guilt, he changed the subject slightly. "How'd you know dat somet'ing was wrong?"
"Storm requested that I briefly touch your mind," Jean explained. A slightly unreadable look crossed Gambit's face, and his feelings of shame and uncertainty touched at the edges of Jean's empathic perception. She brushed them away and continued. "I was then persuaded to do the same for Rogue, and I discovered her condition." Jean paused to allow him to digest the information and perhaps reply.
Gambit remained sitting, staring blankly, mind radiating a whirl of emotions that swarmed Jean's consciousness. She had to struggle to ignore them and not intrude on his privacy. "Gambit, there's one thing that I need to ask you," Jean began hesitantly. "When I touched your mind, I picked up very strong emotions accompanied by thoughts of Rogue." He didn't reply, so she pressed further. "If Rogue was in the Danger Room, and you were with someone else, why were your thoughts of Rogue?"
"I love her," Gambit whispered, unfocused eyes still staring at nothing. His accent was thickened by grief almost to the point of being unintelligible. "Beast can't le' her die. De blonde, she din't mean nothin'. Only 'cause Rogue say she don' wan’ me. De blon' did, an' she was close ‘nuff so’s I’d preten’. If I'd known, I nev' would 'ave...Jeannie, you know I’d nev’ hurt her!"
A wash of sincere, troubled emotion assaulted Jean's mind as he spoke. "I believe you," she murmured gently to reassure him. She stretched her thoughts into the other room. "Beast has finished. Do you wish to see how she is?"
Blankly, he nodded and rose. Jean moved to his side, deftly catching his arm and guiding him. His body was stiff, and he walked like he was asleep. His tense, worried face was a mask of despair. Jean didn't know how to comfort this silent, enigmatic grief. This was so different from the Gambit they all knew. Jean could only guide him over to where Rogue lay. While they'd talked, Beast and his assistants had removed her bloodied clothes and dressed her in a hospital type gown. Jean was grateful Gambit didn't have to see the bloodied outfit and gaping wounds. She released his arm, moving away to comfort Storm, leaving him to his solitary pain. There is nothing more I can do, she thought sadly.
How is she? Jean thought to Beast.
"She's sleeping deeply," he replied verbally, in a loud enough whisper that his voice carried to Gambit. "Possibly comatose. Her ribs are badly bruised. Three fractured, one seriously. Her head is bruised badly, as well as her back and upper legs. She's stable for the moment, but I don't know if or when she will regain consciousness. We can only hope." Beast nodded solemnly and left the room silently. Jean was surprised to see tears standing in his eyes as he passed by her.
"Cajun," Wolverine said harshly, his voice like death. "I want answers." He strode viciously over to Gambit. "What were you doing with that woman while this was happening to her?"
Jubilee snickered, anticipating a description of exactly what Gambit had been doing. Instead, he only turned his empty glowing eyes on Wolverine. "I din't know," he said softly.
The pained remark did nothing to ease Wolverine's anger. "Logan," Jean said soothingly, moving to put a hand on his tense arm. "We're all frightened and upset. Blaming Gambit won't help anything."
"Are you sayin' we just let him get away with it?" Wolverine growled indignantly. Angrily, he brushed Jean's hand off his arm and shoved by Jubilee on his way out the door. Jean's eyes remained on the closed door long after he'd passed through it, full of concern and compassion.
"It will be all right, Jean," Storm said gently. "He will forget his anger soon. It is not towards you or Gambit. He is disturbed by an opponent he cannot conquer. Rogue is threatened by an enemy he cannot attack. His helplessness is what angers him, not any of our actions. Given time to himself, he will realize this. Let him have that time."
"Thank you, Storm," Jean smiled a touch sadly. "Regardless, I doubt my presence is very comforting to him."
"Another evening like this, and when Professor and Cyke come back from their hush-hush diplomatic mission, they'll hardly recognize any of us," Jubilee remarked with a sniff. When Jean and Storm turned confused stares on her, she elaborated. "Rogue's in a coma, and Gambit looks half-dead. Beast's nervous about losing a patient and afraid he can't cure his friend. Wolvie's mad for no reason. Well, that's normal at least." With a shrug that was meant to say it didn't really matter. Jubilee turned and sauntered out of the room. The others never knew she collapsed on her bed and began sobbing like the child she was as soon as she reached the safety of her own room.
"Perhaps we should leave as well," Storm suggested softly with a pointed glance at Gambit. "She will not come to any further harm." Jean nodded her agreement, turning to leave. Storm followed silently, sending one last concerned glance back at Gambit before she closed the door.
The soft click of the shutting door barely registered on Gambit's deadened mind. His whole consciousness was taken up with the limp, pale form lying motionless before him. Tentatively, as if afraid she'd reject him even while unconscious, he reached out one hand, fingertips gently brushing her skin. Gently, delicately, he ran his fingers across her cheek, feeling her soft skin with bittersweet emotion. After loving her for so long, wanting to be able to touch her, when he finally could, it was due to tragedy. He wished he could explain to her that just being able to touch her cheek meant more to him than anything she'd seen between him and that blonde. That she was the only woman he'd ever felt this way about. That he loved her. How could he reassure her? Oh, God, what if he lost her? What would he do if she died?
No! He slammed his eyes shut against the thought, feeling a tear trickle down his face. She would be fine; she had to. Knowing she had slipped too far into oblivion to hear him, but needing to say the words to her anyway, Gambit began to murmur brokenly, his voice harsh with the tears he'd kept back while the others were here. "I sorry, chere. Never mean for you to get hurt. She mean nothin'. You said you don' want me, chere. How could I know?" He ended in a desperate, plaintive cry, begging for a pardon he feared he'd never get.
He brushed his finger over her face, removing his teardrops that marred her soft cheek. Gambit ran his hand down her cheek, into her hair, and across the back of her neck, feeling her artery pulsing weakly against his hand, proof she was alive, if just barely. "Please, chere, stay wit' me," he whispered. "I need you."
Having to admit he was dependent upon her was hard. But even though she never admitted feelings for or to anyone, he needed her fiery, determined presence. He loved watching her in motion, her beauty, grace, and spirit.
More tears came, dropping onto her pale face as he bowed his head over her. Gambit moved his hand back up onto her cheek, gently brushing away the teardrops. Her beautiful face shouldn't be degraded by his tears or the bandage on the wound across her temple. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her green eyes open, even if they were filled with venom towards him. He could bear her hatred, as long as she was alive.
The door clicked open, but he didn't even turn his head or try to hide his tears. It didn't matter who saw his grief and weakness. Nothing mattered.
"Gambit," came Jean's voice, soft, compassionate, sympathetic.
"I love her," he murmured, not caring what Jean thought. She'd seen his mind enough times to know. Why pretend to hide it? Nothing mattered until those green eyes opened and met his.
"Of course, Gambit," Jean agreed softly. "Storm wanted me to remind you her powers will return in a bit over four hours." She moved to stand by his side, one hand set gently on his shoulder.
"Can you reach her?" he asked, speaking to Jean without his eyes ever leaving Rogue's face.
"I'll try," she offered. She was pretty sure she couldn't, but it was all she could do for him. Jean closed her eyes and focused her mind. After a moment, she reopened them. "She's slipped beyond my reach. I can't feel anything beyond a vague presence and life-force. I'm sorry."
He shook his head slowly, not replying. His face held some indescribable pain and longing, and his eyes were dead, mirrors of his soul.
His mind was radiating such desperate guilt that she couldn't help but know his thoughts. "It's not your fault," she said in a soft, firm voice.
"No?" he replied bitterly. "Den whose fault is it, Jean? I de only one who caused dis, and I de one who pays." His acid anger melted away suddenly to reveal fear. "If she die..."
"She won't," Jean said firmly. "Beast will care for her. We won't let her go. We need her too much, all of us."
From the blank, forlorn look on his face, Jean knew nothing she said could reassure him. And no one could make him leave her side. With a gentle, firm resolve, Jean moved a chair over so he could sit by Rogue's sickbed. He didn’t even notice, so she had to gently push him into the chair. His eyes remained morbidly fixed on Rogue's pale face. There's nothing I can do, Jean thought sadly, turning to go, glancing back once at Gambit's set, hopeless face. With a sigh, she shut the door, leaving him to his pain.
Four hours later
Gambit was still sitting by the comatose woman, eyes fixated on her pale, cold face. Hours ago, he had taken one of her cold hands in his, and now he raised it gently to his lips, kissing her hand briefly before setting it back down. "Stormy say your powers gonna come back soon, chere," he murmured. "Dis'll be my last chance now, maybe ever." Reaching his hand up to lightly brush his fingertips across her cheek, Gambit bent to softly kiss her, knowing the chance might never come again.
For the past several hours, he'd been cherishing every moment by her side, knowing she could slip away at any time. Somehow, he loved her more now that he was losing her than he ever had before. Never know what you’ve got till ya lose it. Every breath she took was so precious. When her heartbeat faltered, his own stopped for a second in fear. He was so afraid she'd die. If he lost her...
He couldn't even complete the thought. "Please, chere," he whispered. "Don' leave me." He couldn't bear to lose her. "I swear, I never knew I'd hurt you. I din't feel for her anythin' like I do for you. I love you, Rogue. Don' leave me, chere. Don' leave me."
Two hours later
Softly, so as not to disturb his grief, Storm entered the room where Rogue lay. Gambit was in a chair by her head, asleep. Poor thing. Of course he was exhausted, she thought in sympathy. It was some time a few hours before dawn, but Storm had risen from an uneasy sleep and decided to come check on them.
She could tell at a glance that Rogue remained unchanged. Gambit was keeping up his watch, refusing to leave her side. His face, even in sleep, was lined with worry, guilt, and fear. Confident Rogue would be as well cared for as was possible by her loving guardian, Storm silently slipped back out the door, wondering if Jean was awake yet. Though Storm was field leader in the absence of Charles and Scott, Jean tended to take charge of domestic matters.
Storm wandered down the vacant halls. Jean should be allowed to sleep after a late night of worry. A note left in the war room will suffice to alert the others of my purpose, she thought decisively. With a sharp nod, she changed her direction.
Upon arriving in the war room, she left a quick note. "Jean--I've gone to see Callisto and get the Leech. His powers are needed to permit Beast to treat Rogue. The Leech and I shall return. --Storm"
Satisfied that the others would be advised of her departure, Storm left the mansion and began her pre-dawn flight, the same one she'd taken twice yesterday, alone and then with Rogue. Somehow it was different now. There was a feel of heaviness to the air, generated by the sense of tragedy weighing down her soul. In some way, this was her fault. She had not known what she was sending Rogue into, but ignorance was no excuse. Her guilt was lessened by the knowledge that her actions had helped Jean find and save Rogue. She knew Gambit had no such consolation.
The cold, heavy air rushed by Storm as she sped on her flight to the Morlocks.
Three hours later
Beast rose early, still anxious. He'd slept well except for the nightmares plaguing him. His patient's condition was the first thing on his mind. He had to consider Rogue as a patient instead of a friend. Beast, even more than the others, had to keep his emotions under control, remain objective. He couldn't afford to let his grief and concern cloud his mind and impair his skills.
Moving with a quiet grace that seemed at odds with his large, bestial form, he entered the infirmary, wishing to check on his patient before beginning his day. Gambit slept by her bedside in a position he'd probably kept since exhaustion had claimed him. Beast moved to stand across from his patient's guard. Her breath came in shallow gasps that obviously pained her damaged ribs. Her pulse beat in her throat, even more weakly than it had the night before. Her color was very poor, her pale face turning a shade gray.
Icicles of fear stabbed at his heart, even through his clinical detachment. She was fading. Not quickly, but steadily. When I come for her on the morrow, will I find her cold and stiff? he wondered sadly. As a doctor, it was heart-breaking to lose a patient. But as a friend, it was completely devastating. He wasn't sure the group was prepared to handle this loss.
Gambit surely wasn't. One look at his desperate, grief-stricken face told Beast he wouldn't take it well when she died. Some form of mind-numbing will be needed to dull the first stabs of grief, Beast thought. I must speak to Jean about that when she awakes. If only Xavier were here. Tragedies always strike in the Professor's absence.
Beast moved softly out of the room, wondering about the problem Rogue's powers presented to her treatment. Contemplating this, he wandered through the war room, noticing with a touch of surprise a note left where it was designed to catch the eye. My, we have an early riser today, he thought with as much of a smile as he could manage. Beast moved over and picked it up.
The note was addressed to Jean, but having been left in the war room, it wasn't private, and the writing was Storm's. With a bit of curiosity, Beast read the brief note.
She seems to be anticipating me again, he thought with a smile. How long ago did she leave? How soon will she return? Rogue needs me as soon as possible. Not that he was sure it would help, but he couldn't let her go without a fight. Rogue was a fighter, and she had to go out with a struggle. Beast felt he owed at least that much to his friend. A final favor, the only thing he could do for her now.
Beast turned away, setting Storm's note back where he had found it, heading aimlessly away, tears standing in his eyes and trickling onto his blue, furry cheeks.
Fifteen minutes later
Storm landed neatly before the mansion, deftly depositing the Leech on his feet. "Thank you for coming, my friend," she said simply. "I know it was a sacrifice to leave your home."
"I shall do whatever you desire, lady Storm," the Leech replied with a slight nod of respect.
With a slightly amused smile at his child-like adoration, Storm led her guest into the mansion, going directly to the room where Rogue and Gambit slept. "Leech, my friend is in here, and she needs her powers removed again. We must be quiet so we do not wake the one who watches her."
"Of course, lady Storm," he replied in a whisper.
With another smile of amusement, she slid open the door and slipped into the room, the Leech close on her heels. The two unconscious forms remained where they had been three hours ago. Gambit had restlessly tossed about a bit, but Rogue lay as one dead. That phrase was a bit too possible for Storm's liking.
"The woman, lady Storm?" the Leech whispered tentatively, tugging at her sleeve.
"Yes, Leech," she murmured. "The woman whose powers you removed yesterday."
The Leech nodded and moved with exaggerated care to where he could stare intently upon her pale, graying face. "It is done, lady Storm," he announced quietly.
"Thank you, Leech," Storm said softly. "We must find Beast now so he can care for her."
The Leech nodded and stood where he was, waiting to follow her from the room.
Ten minutes later
"Gambit," Storm's voice gently floated through the fog of his sleep. Wearily, he opened his eyes, meeting hers, seeing the soft blue clouded with worry and reddened from lack of sleep. "I'm sorry to wake you, but you must move to allow Beast room to care for her."
His body stiff from a restless night's sleep in an awkward position, Gambit rose to his feet, seeing Beast standing a polite distance away. As Gambit and Storm moved away, he came to Rogue's side, gently removing the bandage on her head. "Not as deep as I had thought," he mused. "It will heal nicely. I can't guarantee the absence of a scar, but her hair will cover it." Beast's absent, soothing talk seemed too light, too casual. He was covering something. What you trying to hide from me, Hank? Gambit thought, half angry, half frightened.
Beast gently put a fresh bandage on the head wound and pulled the sheets down. In respect for Rogue's privacy, Storm gently drew Gambit into the side room Jean had taken him to the day before. As she guided him in and moved him to a seat, Storm turned back and gestured to someone Gambit hadn't noticed before. A small, strange man came in, obviously a mutant.
"Gambit," Storm said calmly as she shut the door behind the other man. "This is the Leech, one of the Morlocks. He removed Rogue's powers at my request yesterday and again this morning to permit Beast to care for her. He shall be staying with us for as long as Rogue's condition continues to require care."
Gambit nodded vaguely in recognition of the introduction, his mind on Beast and Storm's word choices. He knew neither of them would lie to him, but they weren't beyond misleading phrasing. Beast had said her hair would cover any scars, but he hadn't added anything about her recovery. And Storm had said the Leech would remain as long as Rogue needs care, not till she recovers. But that didn't mean they expected her not to recover. It couldn't. She had to wake up. She had to live.
"Lady Storm," the Leech said hesitantly, his formal tone surprising Gambit a bit though Storm seemed used to it. "Lady Storm," he repeated. "Are you upset with me?"
"No, Leech," she replied firmly with a touch of surprise. "Why would I be?"
"Well," he said softly, looking down, "I removed the powers from your friend, and she was hurt because she didn't have them."
"Leech, no one blames you," Storm repeated. "If anyone is to blame, it is I." Gambit jerked his head up suddenly to protest, but she cut him off. "No, Gambit. It was my idea to have the Leech remove her powers, so the fault is mine."
"Stormy, you ain't to blame. I'm de one who chased her to de Danger Room," he protested wearily. "You were jus' tryin' to help us. It not your fault; it mine."
Storm shook her head in denial, but one look at Gambit's hopeless face told her that nothing she could say would change his mind. He was convinced he was killing her. It's fair I take de blame, Gambit thought. I lose de most if she dies, and I don' want to hate the others for dis. If she don' recover, I can only hate me, and dat's how it should be.
The door to the room quietly swung open, and Beast's furry face peered in. "Storm, Gambit, Leech," he said, nodding politely at each. "I have finished my examination."
"How is she?" Storm asked quickly, starting to rise from her chair.
"If we're going to talk, we should stay in here so we don't disturb her," Beast said, coming to sit as well. "The head injury, as I said, will heal well. The cracked ribs aren't doing as nicely as I'd like, and the wound on her side is a bit wide. Care must be taken to prevent infection."
Storm nodded gravely, accepting this calmly. Hank, you're still not tellin' me sometin', Gambit thought. His eyes were hard with the thought of what that might be. The Leech sat motionless but for the constant flicking of his eyes from one face to another. "Lady Storm," he began quietly. "What should I call him?"
"Beast?" she asked. "You may call him Hank, or Dr. McCoy if you prefer."
The Leech nodded. "Thank you, lady Storm." He turned his serious gaze on Beast. "Dr. McCoy, sir, when will the lady wake up?" he asked plaintively.
"I can't tell, Leech," Beast admitted sadly. "But we must hope for the best always."
Gravely, the Leech nodded, his eyes slightly unfocused with thought. After a moment, he spoke again. "Dr. McCoy, lady Storm, what happens if she doesn't wake up?"
Beast had no answer, but his eyes filled with fear. Storm as well was at a loss for words. "If she die, we bury her," Gambit replied, trying to remain hard and uncaring. The Leech, like a confused child, looked seriously into Gambit's face, trying to understand, and the cajun had to look away. "If she die, my heart go wit' her," he murmured, voice thick with swallowed tears.
The Leech's big, innocent eyes blinked with confusion. He turned his open look on Storm. "Lady Storm," he said softly. "I don't understand."
"It is a complicated situation, my friend," Beast replied gently. "I'm afraid we can't explain what we don't understand well ourselves."
Without another word, Gambit rose and went back to keep watch over Rogue. As soon as he had left, Storm rose to gently shut the door behind him. "Be honest with me, my friend," she said to Beast. "Will she recover?"
"I really can't say," he murmured, but the hopeless look in his eyes gave Storm the only answer she needed.
"How will we explain her loss to Xavier when he returns?" Storm asked sadly. "He'll be so heart-broken to lose another of his ‘children’."
"We all will," Beast agreed softly with a meaningful glance at the chair Gambit had vacated.
"What can we do with him when she dies?" Storm asked, admitting it seemed a certainty.
Beast simply shook his head hopelessly, unable to answer. He didn't know how he'd survive watching her die without being able to help. "Tomorrow," he whispered hoarsely, burying his face in his hands.
"What?" Storm asked, glancing up at him.
"She won't last through tomorrow," he explained in a choked voice. "And there's nothing I can do to stop it. She's going to die."
"Beast," Storm said gently, moving to his side. She put one comforting hand on his bowed shoulder. "You cannot blame yourself. You've done all you can."
"But it's not enough," he said desperately. "I can't save her."
"You tried. We can ask no more of you. If she dies, it is not your fault."
He shook his head slowly, wanting to argue but unable to speak around the tears choking his throat.
With wide, teary eyes, the Leech watched lady Storm comfort the doctor, tears in both their eyes. Bad, he thought sadly. Very bad.
Three hours later
Gambit sat by her side, one pale hand clasped tightly between both of his as if he could hold onto her and keep death at bay. Beast had left long ago, Storm and the Leech following closely. He didn't know how long ago; time didn't matter. Nothing did but keeping her here.
His eyes were fixed on her face, the weak flutter of a pulse in her throat, the slow rise and fall of her chest with her shallow breaths. His mind had gone numb. He knew, despite Beast's calm mask, that she was dying, but his thoughts shied away from the idea. The pain in his heart was so great he couldn't even cry for her any more. He could only sit and wait for the end.
No! Something in his mind woke suddenly and screamed against it. He wouldn't let her go. He couldn't lose the only woman he'd ever truly loved. Life couldn't be that cruel. Take away her love, if I ever had it, he thought to the powers that be. Let her hate me, but she can't die. He could accept anything. As long as she lived.
He could love her from afar, thaw her heart out again as he had before. It might take time; she might never forget this or forgive him his part in it. It didn't matter. He wanted her recovery, even if it came without her love.
"Chere," he whispered, one hand moving up to touch her face. "I'm so sorry. I never mean dis 'appen, chere. You de only one I love." A tear moved down one cheek, and he'd been so sure he couldn't cry any more. If only she could hear him, could forgive him. If she had to die, he didn't want the blame on his conscience.
A part of his mind recoiled from that. Who else do I blame? he asked himself acidly. Forgiveness? I don' wan' her forgiveness; I wan' her life. I need Rogue to live, to love me again if she can. But love don' matter so much. She has to live.
His mind was caught in hopeless circles of despair and contradiction, running over and over the same thoughts, trying to deny that he was losing the woman he loved with no one to blame but himself.
An hour later
Silently, the Leech entered the room where the hurt lady slept, creeping noiselessly so her watcher wasn't bothered. The Leech had just come to look again at this woman whose pain so upset the doctor and beautiful lady Storm.
The hurt lady lay as before, pale and unmoving. Her silent guardian wouldn't leave her side, even to eat. He didn't even know the Leech was here. When the lady dies, it will be very bad for him, the Leech thought firmly. He should not lose her.
Sadly, the Leech turned to go, leaving the watcher to his sorrow. The door clicked when he opened it, and the grief-stricken man turned and saw the Leech. The dead pain in his eyes made the Leech feel the need to say something. "Her powers will come back within an hour," he said softly. The quiet man nodded and turned his empty gaze back to the pale lady.
He said his heart will die with her, the Leech recalled. Maybe it's true. The guardian seemed as weak and pale as the sleeping lady he watched. Should I tell lady Storm that the man is in bad shape? the Leech wondered. She probably knows, but I will tell her anyway; this is important.
The Leech left the room, going to find lady Storm, to comfort her, to help her let her friend go. The doctor was helping, but the Leech needed to help her as well, for his sake and hers.
This is very bad for all of them, he thought with a sad sigh. Very bad.
Half an hour later
"Chere, please stay wit me," Gambit whispered brokenly, one hand on her neck, feeling her weak, fading pulse. "Don' leave me. Chere, I need you. Wit'out you, I'm de heartless man I use to be. Rogue, you change me. I neve' knew I could be like dis. No one would eve' b’lieve I love a woman I can't touch. But, chere, I do love you. An' I need you here. Don' leave me, Rogue. I don' know what I do wit'out you."
He felt her pulse falter, and his heart stopped for a moment, too. But her blood continued to flow, sluggish but steady. "Jus' hold on, chere. Stay wit' me," he murmured, bending down to embrace her as if his grip alone could hold back the relentless hand of death.
Knowing her powers were going to return soon and that she could die before morning, Gambit again gave her one last kiss, trying to savor her sweetness so he'd never forget her love. He kept his lips pressed to hers for one eternal moment, then pulled away with tears in his eyes. He had another ten minutes that he knew beyond a doubt were safe. His last ten minutes with her. After that, he would stay by her side, but he couldn't touch her to reassure her that she wasn't alone, that his love was always with her, no matter what.
Meanwhile
There was a soft knock at the door to Jean's room. She sent a soft mental probe. "Come in, Leech," she said gently. The door opened, and he entered, looking very disturbed.
"Leech, what's wrong?" Storm asked, rising and going to him.
"Lady Storm, I went to see the hurt lady," he said softly. "The man watching her looks so sad. Will he be all right when she dies?"
"Oh, Leech," Storm whispered sadly. "I wish I knew."
"He loves her," Jean said. "That will make it much harder for him even than for us. Her powers have made it impossible for them to have a normal relationship. He will feel the chance for her love was taken from him unfairly. I have felt Scott's mind concerning my supposed death years ago, and I know it is no easy thing to accept. I will watch his mind and try to soothe him in any way I can. There is no more we can do."
"Thank you, lovely Jean," the Leech murmured. "He looks so sad," he added wistfully. "Are there others close to her?"
"Wolverine and Jubilee are not as close to her as Storm and Gambit, but they will feel her loss more than they care to admit," Beast said softly.
"Why are they alone?" the Leech asked. "Grief should be shared."
"It is their way to be alone, Leech," Jean replied sadly. "Both have borne enough grief that they feel they can handle it alone."
The Leech nodded thoughtfully and left the room again. Perplexed by his actions, Storm returned to her chair. "His mind is like a child's," Jean mused. "There are so many things he can't understand."
"What mortal can understand death?" Beast asked philosophically.
"Or love," Storm added.
Fifteen minutes later
The Leech had been wandering the mansion, knocking on every closed door he came to. The proud ones need to know that lady Storm, the doctor, and Lovely Jean wish to comfort them, he thought. Lovely Jean must care something about them. She sounded so sad. The hurt lady is the proud ones' friend, too. They need to know.
Mechanically, the Leech continued knocking on doors. "Who's there?" came a female voice from one room. The voice was sad but hard, as if she wished to hide that she had been crying. Why should crying for her friend ashame her? The others cry, and they are not ashamed. "Who is it?" the voice repeated, tougher yet.
"I am the Leech," he replied softly. "May I talk with you?"
"The Leech?" the girl repeated confused. The door swung open to reveal her to the Leech's curious eyes. "Oh, right, Storm's pet Morlock. Whatcha want?"
"May I talk with you?" he repeated, wide eyes studying her. She was so young, but her face and voice were very hard and uncaring. Her eyes, in contrast, were soft and hurt. The Leech stared deeply into those eyes, trying to understand her.
The girl looked down at the floor and gestured him in, unable to withstand that innocent gaze for any longer. "What ya wanna talk about?" she asked, closing the door behind him and seating herself on her bed.
"What may I call you?" the Leech asked, studying her face.
"Huh?" she asked.
"I need to know who you are," he explained carefully.
"I guess we weren’t actually introduced, huh? The name’s Jubilee," she answered. The Leech continued to stare into her eyes. How strange that she looks so sad when her name is happiness, he thought, eyes locked on hers. "Now, can we get on with it?" SadJoy asked him.
"Of course. I went with lady Storm to watch Doctor McCoy look at the hurt lady," the Leech began softly. "Dr. McCoy says the hurt lady is not getting well." When the girl didn't speak, he clarified. "Ever."
"So?" she asked. "That's yesterday's news. Anything else?"
"From the way lady Storm and the watcher took it, I thought you would want to know," he said, confused and hurt by her reception.
"The others all knew yesterday, too," Jubilee shrugged. "It's not my fault I'm the only one who admitted it then. Anything else?"
He stared again at her eyes. They confused him, being so at odds with her face and words. "The others bear this pain together," he said softly. "You should be with them."
"Why?" she asked cuttingly. "So I can snivel with 'em all 'bout the 'good times' and letting go? No thanks! I'm fine on my own."
Her face was rock hard, but those eyes grew sadder and sadder by the minute. Perplexed, the Leech continued to stare at them. Why does she not say what she feels? The watcher did not either, at least, not at first. Will SadJoy speak her true heart eventually, too? I wish I understood.
"You hurt, too," he stated sympathetically. "Why do you not share that hurt? It is easier together."
"I'm fine," SadJoy said harshly, but her eyes said differently. Wordlessly, the Leech shook his head in disagreement. "Listen, you don't understand a thing 'bout me. Just get out. Go lecture someone else. I don't need it."
You do, but I cannot help if you don't wish it, he thought sadly as he turned and left.
Meanwhile
Gambit hadn't moved, but his thoughts had raced across the globe, at the same time never leaving Rogue and his love for her. He wanted so much to hold her hand, to feel her pulse, to touch her and reassure her he hadn't abandoned her. To let her know he'd never leave her. I don' know for certain her powers came back yet, he thought. It can't hurt much t' risk one touch.
Gambit, no! came Jean's voice sternly in his mind.
Why, chere? he thought back bitterly. Why you keepin’ tabs on me constantly? What furder harm you tink I can do her now?
It's not that Gambit, Jean replied gently. My concern is for you. If your powers, memories, and consciousness are in her when she dies, we cannot be sure that your mind will be returned to you.
Right now, chere, I don' care, his thought came back to her.
We do, Jean thought firmly, and he could sense Storm's thought being sent along with it, feel her calm presence full of pain. Remy, my friend. It was obviously Storm's thoughts Jean sent now. If you cannot think about yourself now, think about us. The team cannot handle one loss well, but if your mind is lost with Rogue, it will destroy us.
Fine, Stormy, he thought with tears in his eyes. Fo' you an' de others, I won' touch her.
Thank you, Storm thought. Then Jean's presence was gone from his mind, and Storm with it. He was left alone to his silent vigil, his deathwatch.
Five minutes later
After being so forcibly turned away by SadJoy, the Leech stood for a moment, considering if he should continue his search for the other proud one. If the other didn't wish his help either, what good could he do? No, he told himself. I must tell him anyway. Even if he won't say he cares. I will find him anyway.
The Leech resumed his wandering trek down empty hallways, knocking on closed doors.
Meanwhile
Wolverine was in the Danger Room, trying to work off a little nervous energy. Claws extended, he leapt at the cluster of androids facing him, shredding one with each hand while still in the air. Landing, he whirled and slashed another. "You're killing her," he growled at them, dragging his claws deliberately across the nearest android's face and smiling grimly as the watched the features shred before the hologram faded. He turned to another and continued the tirade. "Her life was worth less to you than a one-night stand, just 'cause you got horny and decided you can't wait for her." Snarling, he blocked the robot's staff, sticking the claws on his other hand into its gut and ripping upwards.
A card from another android hit his back. Wolverine whirled and cut his claws through the man, before his arm had even complete the motion of throwing. The remaining four closed into a ring around Wolverine. Two had cards; two had staves. Even split, he thought humorlessly. I'll split you.
In a matter of minutes, he'd cut down the four remaining androids and was standing alone on the Danger Room floor, surrounded by mangled equipment. Cutting up the robots had felt good, but the anger still burned inside him. The others could actually pretend the hologram-cloaked robots were real, but Wolverine never quite escaped the truth. His heightened senses could always smell the metal underneath.
There was a soft knock at the Danger Room door. Slightly bemused at the thought of anyone knocking, Wolverine walked to the keypad, sheathing his claws. He keyed the sequence to open the door, and it slowly slid aside, revealing the Morlock Storm had brought. "Yeah?" Wolverine asked.
"The doctor said the hurt lady is going to die," the Leech said softly, intimidated by Wolverine's dark scowl. "Lovely Jean and lady Storm are very upset. You care about the hurt lady, too. I maybe thought you should be told."
"Thanks," Wolverine said tightly, trying to keep his rage in check so he didn’t snap on the poor kid. He began keying the sequence to close the door again.
"What should I call you?" the Leech asked hesitantly.
"Anything ya want." The door slid shut. "Computer! Repeat training sequence," he shouted.
Ten more hologram-cloaked androids appeared. Wolverine's claws slid out. Face set in a furious snarl, he leaped at them, disabling five in as many minutes. "Computer, end program," he said, disgusted. Slashing Gambit's image didn't do Rogue any good. And he could hardly enjoy this vengeance. Defeating the Danger Room program that had nearly killed her didn't bring her back or punish the guilty. Sophisticated at the program was, it was only a machine.
Ever since Jean had told them Rogue was in danger, he'd had this nagging feeling of guilt. Not that he was responsible; it was as if there was a way to save her, some easy solution he was overlooking. His dreams the previous night had all been full of old memories, as if his mind was searching for the key that was buried somewhere among them. But where? Rogue, badly injured, and he was the only one who could help. Something in his subconscious told him he could fix it if he only knew how. It was something about her powers. Or his. Or...
Then it hit him. Everything fell into place and he remembered. "Where'd the Morlock say Beast was?" he muttered to himself. "Always consult the physician first."