Author Notes:
Isolation chamber borrowed from Donna, since I can't find a canon reference for it. I'm just a prop thief in the making.

Archiving: List, otherwise ask

*****

St. John would later think it never would have happened if one of them had been smart enough to figure out what Rogue had in mind. He should have guessed--after all, he'd seen the look on her face and noted Remy's steadily increasing attentions. Jubes and Kitty should have fucking known, they lived with the girl and--well, Bobby was Bobby and probably so deep in denial that he wouldn't see a truck hitting him anyway. But definitely the rest of them. Definitely.

It wouldn't have happened, if one of them had known and been ready to respond just in case something went wrong--so the fuck what if Rogue was the independent type, everyone needed other people and eventually they were all gonna be on the same team and actively depend on each other for their lives on a day to day basis. Jubilee would have been the best choice, her or Kitty--they had grown steadily closer to Rogue as the girl relaxed around them and had eventually gotten Rogue to move out of her bedroom and in with them. A very neat and very nice way of cutting off Rogue's deliberate isolation of herself from others and building up the basis of the interpersonal relationships and trust they'd all need together.

But they didn't figure it out and they didn't guess what she had in mind (and why the fuck *hadn't* they?), so their first knowledge was the next morning, when Remy and Rogue were both missing at breakfast and Mr. Summers, looking solemn and exhausted, came into class to explain that something had happened and Rogue and Remy were in the infirmary.

It took less than two guesses to figure out exactly what had happened, just from the flush on Mr. Summers' face when he related the simple statement, and St. John and Co lost any interest they might have had in finals reviews to stare at their books in shock.

A note dropped on St. John's desk and he watched Mr. Summers' back thoughtfully before carefully opening it in his lap.

He turned slightly, nodding--the scribble of Kitty's and Bobby's agreement underneath meant he could burn the note, and he held it tight in his hand for a second, then let the ashes fall inconspicuously to the floor. Stared down at his pencil and wondered how the hell Remy had managed to fuck up sex with the untouchable girl. And what he'd do to Remy if he'd fucked her head up any more than it already was.

* * * * *

Oddly, and not surprisingly, all the teachers were acting strange, so no one missed Jubes for the morning. Dr. Grey, who taught them biology, was nowhere to be found, so Dr. McCoy took over and under other circumstances, St. John would actually have enjoyed the change of pace--Dr. McCoy had a distinctive turn of phrase and a tendency to relate life to cartoons or Shakespeare that wasn't anything less than fascinating. Even he, however, seemed a little less than his usual jubilant self, which worried St. John most of all. Remy wasn't dead, that much was for certain, but the last person Rogue had touched had been in a pretty thorough coma for several days, and he'd been a superhealer.

But Remy wasn't dead, so St. John felt he could turn all his worry on the girl somewhere downstairs.

As soon as biology ended and the rest of the class quietly filed out, St. John found himself with Kitty and Bobby standing in front of Dr. McCoy's desk. And he was the good kind of adult--he didn't pretend to not know what they wanted and didn't try to sugar coat it either--sitting back, the big blue body let out a slow sigh and then nodded.

"Your friend Remy will be fine within a few hours, we think--he was sleeping normally when I left the laboratory this morning." A glance at them, carefully measuring. "Rogue, however, is not reacting well to the absorption--her personalities seem to have become unbalanced again. She is being cared for in the isolation chamber--"

St. John heard Bobby hiss involuntarily between his teeth.

They locked her up. The bastards had locked her up like an animal--probably tied down too, with those charges of Remy's she could probably do now and break herself out. Bobby muttered something that sounded like profanity and non-English--picked up from Rogue's adventures in German, he guessed--before slamming his books down on the desk and making both St. John and Kitty jump.

"Was she hurt?"

Dr. McCoy gave them a long, steady look, utterly unreadable.

"Only mentally." A pause, then looking between them, he sighed softly. "Your friend Remy should exercise better control if he wishes to involve himself with young Rogue. It was pure luck that she had the strength to push him away and even better luck that she had the good sense to call for help before her mind was completely flooded with foreign sensory information."

It was something--not much, but something--that Dr. McCoy didn't start tearing into Rogue. Bobby was breathing heavily through his nose now, and the temperature coming off of him was dropping so fast that ice crystals were forming on his damp shoes. Without thinking, St. John reached out and touched him--shit, Bobby was this close to freezing himself to the floor. Applying a little heat, he startled Bobby out of his trance.

"Can we see her?" asked Kitty softly, and Dr. McCoy paused. "Look--I know she's gotta be in the isolation chamber--but--um--did she talk to any of you about--about Wolverine? And--and the lab--"

Oh fuck, he hadn't even thought of that. Bobby dropped six degrees in a second and St. John felt the clothes on his body begin to stiffen from the shock--no problem, St. John felt his temperature jump in accodance and defrost them right off. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Even Kitty was feeling it, and Dr. McCoy blinked in surprise.

"The lab?"

"Her dreams," St. John clarified, seeing Kitty was too flustered with Bobby's reaction to say anything else. "Wolverine's dreams."

"She's still affected by them?" His surprise was obvious--he hadn't been here long enough to know everything, St. John supposed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was all kinds of not good. If she was unstable again, who the hell knew what was gonna be coming out of her head? Dr. McCoy tilted his head at them, obviously thinking it through, then nodded shortly.

"I'll go see about it. I will speak to Dr. Grey and see if Rogue and Remy are up for visitors."

With that, he almost disappeared he moved so quickly, and St. John hoped he'd understood what they were trying to tell him--that Wolverine really didn't like labs, and Rogue tied up in a chamber with a disturbing lab feel to it was gonna be bad, no question. Turning to Kitty, he saw her eyes were narrowed thoughtfully.

"Kittykat?" he said softly, and she snapped her head around.

"I can get in there."

Oh thank God.

"Kitty--"

She grinned a little.

"Don't worry. I got a plan." She looked at Bobby, who had barely breathed, and tapped him on the shoulder, eyebrows jumping at how cold his shirt was. "Bobby?"

"I'm fine--but--" blue eyes wide and shocked. "In the isolation chamber? Kitty--"

At least he was recovering and St. John tentatively got a hand near his body and started defrosting the ice that had formed on his hair, hoping he wouldn't notice. Luckily, his feet hadn't frozen to the floor--St. John didn't have a clue how he could get that fixed without Bobby noticing..

"Lemme check on her. It'll be good, okay? Jubes'll create a distraction when I find her. No worries."

"How will you get down there? The codes on the elevator--"

Kitty shook her head.

"That's nothin'." A hand waved negligibly, and St. John couldn't help but be surprised. "Rogue gave them to me."

That was new and interesting.

"How?"

"Got 'em from Wolvie, of course. Meet ya at lunch--good thing this is my free time, no one'll notice I'm gone." She skipped backward, clutching her bag, energy and good mood restored now that she had something she could actually do about the situation. "Noon, right?"

"Right," St. John said automatically, and got hold of Bobby. "Come on. Let's get to class."

* * * * *

It wasn't like he or Bobby had a clue what happened with the rest of the morning--they went to class and sat and left, without any clear idea of what exactly happened during. They were left alone--St. John wasn't sure if it was sympathy or that odd sort of ostracization that circumstances had tainted them because of Rogue. St. John really could have cared less and Bobby, from the way he froze his pencil, the ink in his pen, and the water on the teacher's desk, wasn't aware of anything at all. St. John had to lead him around.

Their minds were downstairs in the isolation chamber with Rogue, where God knew what was happenign to her.

At noon, Bobby had frozen his mashed potatoes into a rather disturbing shape that resembled something modern-artsy and perhaps by Maplethorpe or Dali--or maybe St. John just had an indecent mind. He'd go with that. Eating slowly and really not very hungrily, he listened to the rumors floating around--Rogue went crazy and tried to kill Remy, Remy'd tried to rape Rogue and got the worst of the situation, Rogue was on a rampage, Remy was dead, Rogue was dead, Rogue was gonna be kicked out of school, it went on and on and if he hadn't had a headache before, he had one now.

Kitty practically materialized in front of them, trayless, and she looked frazzled but a little more perky than she'd be if Rogue was still in serious condition.

"Well?" Bobby asked eagerly, dropping his fork and pushing the tray aside. The potato sculpture fell over ungracefully (sigh, shit, Bobby, try and be a little less nakedly in love, will ya?) and St. John caught it and moved both their trays out of the way.

"They let Jubilee in--didn't want to, but you know Jubes, she always gets her way. Rogue's working her way back--Dr. McCoy hasn't left the room since we talked to him. He said Jubilee's presence was cementing Rogue in real life, and maybe we should all come down--"

She hadn't even finished before Bobby was up and moving toward the door. Grabbing their trays, St. John followed, Kitty trailing behind, and he disposed of them properly before getting to the elevator within seconds of Bobby--who of course didn't have the codes and was staring down at the buttons as if will alone would make them work.

"They ask how you got down there?"

"Yes, but they haven't had time to change the codes." True to life, she typed the alphanumeric combination and the doors opened silently, letting them in. Without missing a beat, she punched the correct floor and they all stood in perfect silence while it took them down.

"Kitty, she still Rogue?"

That was what they were getting tetchy about. It'd taken so long for her to stabilize, so damn long for her to get herself together--they didn't want to go back the fifty steps they'd taken with her. Shit, St. John didn't even want to think of what was going to happen in her head, what Remy's idiocy had fucked up in there, what she'd need now. And there she was, back in Dr. Grey's radar, all ready for study. Fuck.

"You wanna know how much more Remy we're likely to have to put up with?" Kitty snorted. "From what I can tell, she's channeling Logan to keep that from happenin'. Though coolest thing, she kinetically charged up Dr. Grey's syringes when she tried to sedate her and made a mess of the lab. That's when they decided to put her in isolation."

Good for her. Hoped she'd taken down the lab.

"Fuck," Bobby whispered. "Last thing she needs is to be locked up. Surprised Wolverine hasn't come out and really done some damage."

Kitty's smile faded a little and Bobby backed her against the wall. St. John, not being stupid, got Bobby by the arm and jerked him back before Kitty phased herself through--and what would happen if she did that in an elevator, where would she end up?--or Bobby did something stupid. Keep a clear head. Clear. Calm.

"Bobby, for God's sake, keep cool--not frozen either. Kitty, what kind of damage are we talkin' about?"

Wide-eyed, she stared between them briefly before nodding to herself, swallowing hard.

"Some dents in the walls--the bed's a mess and she had to have her hands bandaged--I think she broke the fingers on her right hand. She was out of restraints when Jubes got there and got her calmed down. Dr. McCoy is really cool, guys--seriously, we owe him. Mr. Summers didn't wanna let anyone in, but Dr. McCoy came down and gave the order to let Jubes in when Jubes was threatening to blow the lab door open if she couldn't get in. She would have to, you know Jubes. Said Rogue needed to be grounded back down in the real world and her real life. Won't let Jubes touch her, though. Which is why I snatched these." Kitty pulled out what had to be half a box of latex gloves as the door opened, and both St. John and Bobby grabbed a pair and pulled them on as they walked out.

It was a lot of twists and turns to get down--he'd never been on this level before, since the medical stuff was a floor higher. Interested, he passed the interior labs, taking mental track of where they were and of the keypads on several of the doors. Somewhere around here was the hangar for the jet and the Danger Room the adults practiced in. And other stuff--other stuff that after this summer he might be allowed to see.

Then they came to the last door, and Dr. McCoy was standing outside, almost--oh hell, he was waiting for them, punching the codes in the door and letting them in without a word. Inside the control room, Dr. Grey stood up, ready to object, but Dr. McCoy merely pulled her to the side.

Jubes was inside, they could see her talking to Rogue--and Rogue looked like hell.

He could see why she didn't want to be touched--the t-shirt and scrub bottoms were too thin and fragile for her to trust, especially now. She was curled in the corner, her hair a mess around her face and back, and one of her eyes was blackened and almost swollen shut, lips bleeding. There were multiple scrapes on her bare arms and her hands were both bandaged--shit, Kitty'd been right, she'd tried to punch through the wall. If she'd had a healing factor and metal bones, she would have succeeded too. He could see bandages around her feet as well, traces of blood along the scrapes on her ankles.

These people didn't have a clue, but at least Dr. McCoy was trying, and St. John breathed a sigh that someone was paying attention.

Bobby looked like he wanted to cry or kill someone--Kitty was shaking a little--but all St. John could be was angry and annoyed. What the fuck were they thinking, anyway, locking her up like that? No wonder she was having problems with personalities, if they were catching on the fears of one of the ones in her head, the one that was strong enough to do the most damage. Without even thinking about it, he pushed the button that opened the door and walked in--heard Jean's shocked objections--but Kitty and Bobby were inches behind him and he heard Kitty pull out another pair of gloves to toss at Jubes.

"Rogue?" Bobby whispered, crouching a few feet away, next to Jubilee. She looked up at them, marking their faces one by one, then her head turned away, angrily he thought at first--then there was something else, the edge of tears--shit, she didn't want them to see her cry.

Rogue hated to cry, hated to show any kind of weakness--whatever had happened to her on the Statue that day, the stuff they'd only seen at a distance, had ground into her the need for self-sufficiency to the point of active dislike of asking for assistance. But some things, St. John figured, she needed to know she was supposed to ask for. That was what family was all about.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Jubes, seeing opportunity open up as Rogue cracked, threw herself forward, covered by jacket and gloves, and wound herself all around her, stroking the long dark hair back and whispering softly in a language he didn't know--probably flipped over into Mandarin, like she did under stress--but the words soothed Rogue, gentled her down, and after several long minutes, Rogue's slid around Jubilee's back, holding her close.

That was all the invitation Kitty needed, and she curled up next to Rogue, automatically avoiding exposed skin and running gloved hands over Rogue's arm and across her back--they weren't afraid of her, didn't want to lock her up or lock her down, or hurt her, unspoken promises that everything would be just fine. St. John grinned, seeing the uncertain smile on Rogue's face, the slowly dawning understanding that there was no way in hell they were gonna walk out on her. St. John shifted enough to get her bandaged fingers gently and Bobby laid a hand on her shoulder, and the relief on Bobby's face was definitely an improvement.

The relief on Rogue's was just amazing and he was so glad they hadn't wrecked her completely.

When St. John glanced up at the window while Rogue stumbled out an explanation of what had happened, he was rather surprised to see Dr. McCoy looking in with a wide smile.

He knew he liked that guy.

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