The infirmary, despite the anti-virus, was still full. Marrow was up and around. Despite her erratic white cell count, the anti-virus had worked on her like a charm. Cecelia had made a full call so they could all get innoculated as well.
As promised, her Angel had taken her flying over the mansion. This seemed to have done wonders for her spirits, as had Jubilee's informing her that Callisto was improving somewhat.
Sam and Lila had not reacted so well. It had taken 72 hours before an exhausted and punchy Cecelia had pronounced their blood tests clean. The pair had had time to renew their acquaintance; Lila, still recovering from the other aspects of her trauma, chose to remain in the Mansion while she recovered, leaving Guido and Jamie to reschedule her tour, and Aelferris to hire roadies to replace those who had been lost in the attack.
Cecelia had, once again with the help of Logan and Bobby, Jean and Maggott (his slugs had eaten away the dead tissue, protecting the site from infection), operated with next-to-nothing and managed to save Hank McCoy from death.
Split Second, having heroically pushed her temporal powers beyond her safe limits, was recuperating from fatigue and exhaustion. Her powers, in point of fact, were strained. She had a condtion similar to laryngitis. She had lost her ability to generate temporal disturbances -- perhaps permanently. While she smiled bravely, it was clear to Remy and Storm, who sympathized with Mickey, just how much it frightened her to be -- mundane.
Beside her, LeBeau rested, recovering from the bullet wound. The boy he'd brought home, insisting on a decent burial, had been Jordan Devonshire -- a rich kid who had been milk-carton missing for several months. While LeBeau himself had not been able to speak to the parents and express his regrets, they were grateful through their grief to know their son had chosen to die rather than become a Typhoid Mary for the homo superior race.
The last occupant of the infirmary was Cheryl Brewster. She had come to in eight hours; it had been nothing more than a good night's sleep. But she had very quietly, very solemnly insisted that she must go back to the Morlock tunnels and get the real Cheryl. Bobby asked Jean to have a telepathic look inside her head. Once Thomas gave permission, Jean's prognosis had been unhelpful. She said the girl's thoughts were too jumbled and disordered to make head or tail from them. Cecelia had looked the girl over and chalked it up to post traumatic stress syndrome.
Scott was back on his feet, although still a bit tender from the surgery to remove the nano-bomb. "Now that most of us are recovered or back on our feet, it's time to attend to this Gambit business. No one will argue that he made a good showing for himself in Genosha, and that his actions were noble. But that does not negate his original crime against homo superior."
"Get to the fuckin' point, Summers," Logan growled, arms folded across his chest.
"We're takin' a vote," Bobby guessed, "About whether Gumbo stays."
Scott nodded. "That's correct. Everyone votes."
"Not everyone, maat," Maggott said. "I don't know the 'oke that well." With that, he walked out to the lake.
"Not everyone," Scott conceded. "Lila's no X-Man, neither is Mickey."
"Hey," Rogue pointed out. "She gets her powers back, Cyke, you oughta consider makin' the offer. She handled herself like hot shit back there. Saved Hank's life." Say it. An' Remy's life too. "An' Remy's."
"It will be taken under advisement on your recommendation, Rogue," Scott nodded. "We should get this out of the way as soon as possible."
"I say he's in," Cecelia declared. "Voting on this is stupid. You guys talk all this shit about bein' heroes, an' the man clearly behaved heroically far as I know. But hell -- I'm a doctor, not a moral judge for the entire mutant race. Besides, I got patients to look after." With that, she turned to bring Hank another bowl of farina. It would be some time before Hank could eat anything heavier than that and the baby food he was eating.
"I..." Jubilee announced, with a broad grin at Logan, "Abstain. See, Wolvie -- I do pay attention in class, even when Her Frigidity teaches it." She shrugged. "Was before my time."
"Everyone else votes." Scott's tone brooked no further dissention. "Sam, go get Hank's vote from downstairs. Once we're done, you can fly down another batch of the anti-virus to NYU for their patients."
Sam nodded, giving Lila a brief kiss before dashing down the stairs two at a time.
"Gambit?"
"Gambit?"
Remy opened up one dark eye and smiled rakishly at Jean. "You talkin' to me?"
Jean slapped her forehead. "Insouciant brat," she chided playfully. Remy had not responded to 'Gambit' since he'd returned. "Remy. Vote's in."
Remy put his chin in his hands, the nearest thing he could do to sitting up and paying attention. "So -- how long I got t'be packed? Not dat I got much here but one change o' clothes an' dat black outfit."
"We're deadlocked," Jean replied. "We've voted three times, and it's come out even. We know Cecelia's said yes, since she never bothers to write it down and drop it in the hat. We're reasonably sure Marrow's the one who said no."
Remy smiled wryly. "You tol' her yet?"
"No." Jean confirmed his suspicions. We figured you deserved the head start." Jean's smile was equally wry. "And no, Remy, I don't know for sure who voted which way. They're picking one name at random out of everyone who abstained to be our deciding vote."
"I do not believe this." In between thumb and forefinger of his left hand, Scott Summers held a torn slip of paper on which was printed Joseph's name in Betsy's elegant hand. He's the deciding vote. Scott didn't know whether to be elated, relieved, or horrified.
"Well, who is it?" Rogue demanded, sitting on the arm of the easy chair beside Joseph. Unconsciously, she fingered the diamond node at the center of her forehead.
"It's Joseph," Scott murmured. "Well?"
Joseph blinked, then reached up and squeezed Rogue's hand. With the Shi'ar mining suit on, it was nearly like touching her. "I think...I need time...to think that one over before I vote."
And with that, Joseph raised Rogue's hand to his lips, brushing his lips over her knuckles, then rose into the air on a coccoon of magnetism. He found the "flyer window" that was always left open, then sped out into the morning.
There was a general sound of dismay from Thomas' construction people; obviously they had hoped it was Rogue. Whistling at Storm got them rained on.
"Well, while the rest of you die of suspense," Bobby declared, "I'm gonna go see if Cher needs anything." He turned and went downstairs as well.
Rogue sat on the roof, staring out at nothing. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, rather than her mining suit or some skimpy little bit of nothing. When she saw the shadow fall across the roof before her, she said, "H'lo, Ororo." While Joseph could "fly" after a fashion, he'd gone to think. Jean was writing out the checks for the bills, Warren's shadow was quite distinctive; as was Sam's.
"I was -- hasty and unkind to you when we parted company before this entire adventure began," Ororo said, alighting on the roof without preamble to sit beside Rogue as she had beside Gambit -- back before Remy had ceased answering to that name. "I wished to apologize for my manner."
"S'okay, sugah," Rogue replied, turning to look over at the wind-rider. "Ah was pretty outta sorts m'self. We both said thangs we regret. An' done thangs we regret. Ah 'pologize too. Ah'm sorry for not respectin' your feelin's an' not lettin' us do this inna first place."
Ororo nodded. "That we have. But much has transpired since then. Are you willing to forgive and live peacefully with Remy if Joseph votes him in?"
Rogue considered that in silence for several moments, before murmuring, "Mebbe I can. But right this minute, Storm, I dunno. 'Celia pointed out that she don't know so much 'bout me...though the rest of the X-Men been forthright comin' out an' tellin' her stuff 'bout them if it comes up in conversation. Me, I dodge or change the subject." She blew a wisp of white from her forehead, revealing the rubalescent node. "Ah guess ah was no one t'judge. So thank you for stoppin' me from becomin' a murderer, ah guess ah'm tryin' to say. Friends?"
"But of course, Rogue," Ororo replied. She extended her arms in a hug. She was wearing a long-sleeved Xavier Institute shirt and a pair of jeans. It was safe. "We are X-Men, and while we may occasionally fight as cats and dogs -- we have enemies without. We need not become enemies within."
Rogue took Ororo's hands and squeezed them tightly before returning the hug. "Good."
Together they sat and waited for Joseph to return with his deciding vote. The sky was clear and none of Storm's doing. Things were finally beginning to brighten.
Or