An Unusual Situation

Part I: Day One

by jenn

Author Notes: Title of this part borrowed from Kat Hughes. Format of the story from the wondrous D'Alaire of Voyager fandom, whom I worship, all respect to you. I'll be working in alternative time frame by part, so there shouldn't be any confusion on what is going on. Feel free to email me if you wonder where my head is. If you're getting through Illusions, you know what I'm doing.

Dedication: Sare for the encouragement, everyone who read this (and who did I end up sending it to?) for liking the idea, and the WR list, where the residents tends to spend most of their free time feeding my little obsession. Donna for doing an AIM beta at the sheer speed of light. Thank you VERY much.
Archiving: Lists, otherwise ask

*****

Bed. Definitely a bed. Mattress--shit, it must be a motel, only they were this uncomfortable. Marie had learned to hate staying in motels when she could avoid it. Scratchy sheets, a light blanket. Uneasily, she tried to reposition her legs and one slid off the bed, not quite reaching the floor. Odd, that.

Absently, Marie reached out, but there was no one else--in fact, there was no bed at all but only free space where her hand extended, and that's what woke her up completely, though she had the sense to keep her eyes closed, let her arm fall back down, steady her breathing to resemble REM sleep again before someone in the room noticed her movement--or if they did, attributed it to sleep-stress. A breath confirmed a foreign scent--only one.

Cautiously, she let her eyes slit open, taking in the--yes, a lab, definitely. A few feet away, a woman was bent over a computer screen, frowning at whatever she saw.

Red hair. That's what she noticed first.

It was an effort to force her lips from curling in amusement.

There were soft sounds--monitors beeping unobtrusively in the background, probably connected to whatever was in her arm right now, checking pulse and respiration and all the other things that Marie knew the human body did, but wasn't exactly sure on the terminology. Which was fine. She knew all she wanted to about anatomy--seeing her own on the dusty-grey of that road in Laughlin was enough. And why the fuck had she gone anyway?

Shit, Logan was going to kill her. Not in a good way, and she almost groaned at the thought.

Cool fingers touched her arm, lifting it, and Marie slit her eyes open enough to see the needle float quietly over her body. Telekinetic--fair enough. The fingers that touched her were covered in latex--smart woman, so someone had heard the warning Marie had gasped out before letting unconsciousness overtake her. Or maybe the woman was a doctor and was used to wearing gloves. Or...oh crap. Speculation was pretty pointless--better idea, go straight to the source.

There was a prick of a needle in her arm and Marie acted. Careful, remembering Logan's warnings in her head if she acted too fast and caused damage she didn't mean to, she caught a vulnerable throat in one hand, and supporting the woman's shoulder with the other, easily flipping her onto her back on the bed, crouching on the balls of her feet over her.

Pretty. Very pretty. Logan *would* like her. Her lips twitched again, and she forced herself not to smile, to give too much away before she knew the score. And it was really hard to be threatening while giggling.

"Where am I?" she said softly, lightening her grip on the woman's throat, over the collar, careful to keep her balance, keep the advantage. Smart lady too--kept her hands down, didn't struggle at all, and she jumped in Marie's estimation.

"Westchester, New York." Fuck, the US. Not where she wanted to be. "Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," the woman told her. "I'm Dr. Jean Summers--I treated your injuries after we found you."

It was still vague--the burning of her stomach, the burn of her mind, and being surrounded by people all in black--sensing only worry from them, knowing she was in no position to argue against any kind of help. Strong arms lifting her--a visor?--fingers sensibly gloved checking her pulse and calling for--Jean.

This woman.

The name of the school sparked a long dormant memory and Marie nodded warily.

"I've heard of the school. Jean Summers--mutant activist, right? Lobbied Congress against the Mutant Registration Act?"

A slow nod--Marie didn't pick any fear off of her at all, just caution and worry and a little nervousness, perfectly natural under the present circumstances. Raising her considerably in Marie's opinion, but she kept her face expressionless, kept her breathing even. Good guys, yes--Xavier had a hell of a reputation.

"Yes. Now that you've established my identity, could you tell me your name?"

Marie considered all her options before answering.

"Rogue." Carefully, she removed her hand from Jean's throat and hopped off the bed, wincing at the pull of the muscles in her abdomen. "How do I get out of here?" She glanced around the room, locating the door, then at Jean as she slowly sat up, fingering her throat lightly.

"You are still very weak--"

"I'm fine." Though her stomach didn't like all the movement she was forcing on it and she traced her abdomen with one hand, feeling the soft layer of bandages under the hospital gown. "Where are my clothes?" Jean slid off the bed, and Marie felt the woman's eyes fixed on her, rather the way one might watch any predator you're not quite sure how to classify. Marie grinned a little. "I won't eat you--where are my clothes? Hospital gowns suck." She waved a hand to encompass her frame. "Drafty. Make this easy. Give me some clothes and let me leave."

Jean's eyes grew distant and Marie watched them unfocus, pupil dilating, the smooth forehead creasing--telepath too. She'd seen those before.

"Red." The eyes snapped open, startled. "Clothes?"

"Yours were unfortunately unsalvageable," Jean told her, still watching her warily, but still no fear, none at all. And that was so new, so unusual, that Marie couldn't help but relax in her presence, against her own better judgement. "I'll get you something--but please, talk to the Professor first." A pause. "He sent us for you."

Unspoken--be grateful you were found, damn it, though there was definite humor in the woman's eyes. Instinct told her she was safe, and Marie had learned that usually, her instincts were right.. Keeping her gaze on the woman's face, she slowly nodded.

"If I'm free to leave after--we have a deal, Red?"

Jean nodded slowly and Marie grinned, walking to the bed--Jean took an involuntary step back--and hopping onto its side.

"Okay. Clothes, please?"

* * * * *

The Professor was familiar in the way that television can make a person--once she saw him, Marie recalled seeing him at several televised lectures and fundraisers, just in the background. Never speaking. Relatively low-profile--if you weren't watching for him, you'd never notice him at all. But Marie had, over time, following the progression of the debates over the MRA with the same interest Logan devoted to hockey scores--one of them had to be decently informed, after all. She took the chair before his desk, watching Jean cross to stand beside him. Interesting positioning--not exactly defensive, more supportive. Also familiar, though Jean was far more visible in the media.

"Rogue?" He had a wonderful voice--low, richly melodious, traced with a deep British accent. A man who had seen a great deal and come to terms with it. The slightest edge of pain--she wondered why. He emanated trust and goodwill to a startling degree and Marie forced her expression to carefully neutral, shifting her arms inside the grey sweatshirt and folding them across her chest.

"Yeah." It would work for now--relaxing into the cool leather, Marie evaluated the two before her--she would make book that this Xavier was a telepath as well.

Marie smiled, feeling the cool touch of his thoughts--but not beyond the outermost layers of her mind, respecting her privacy.

"You have experience with telepaths," Xavier commented out loud. "Your shielding is excellent."

"A little. Not much pleasant." Rogue crossed her legs, darting her gaze between the two. "Look, I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. Thanks for all you did. But--look, I gotta get back. Someone is gonna be lookin' for me--" she stopped, seeing Xavier's slow nod, and a rush of exultation filled her. "Is he here?"

Before they'd even answered, she dismissed the idea--if Logan was here, she wouldn't have been alone in that lab when she woke up. Likely, she wouldn't have been in that lab at all.

"No." She saw Jean's brow furrow again--who was she contacting now? "You were attacked three miles outside Laughlin City--can you tell me who attacked you?"

Rogue shut her eyes briefly, shivering a little--only the barest brushes against her bare skin, sick as it was, still fresher than she really wanted, though while unconscious her mind seemed to have sorted it out. What nightmares she could remember were vague. Good. She didn't need any more.

"Called himself Sabretooth," she said finally, then gave the Professor a long look, seeing his utter lack of surprise. "Not the first time we've met--did he get away?" A sigh--she was being dense. "I guess he did or you wouldn't be askin'. Shit." Absently, she rubbed her knuckles--lingering sensitivity from what must have been a hell of a set of bruises. She hoped Sabretooth remembered that next time. "He was pretty much out of it when I got taken down. Shit."

There was a long silence--she realized Xavier and Jean were looking at each other again. Significant looks, silent communication, and Marie's senses screamed to alert in the space of a heartbeat.

"It's happened before?" Xavier's voice was low.

Marie took a breath, thinking through their surprise.

"You know him." It wasn't a question. Neither seemed interested in lying to her.

"Yes." A simple statement--they seemed to be debating how much to tell her--she had no problem with that. Secrecy was a good thing--if they told her too much too fast, she might become suspicious. She hoped they had a similar opinion on her reticence. "He's a colleague of an old friend of mine--what I don't understand is why he wants you."

Marie shrugged--she had an idea, from that fateful brush of skin, but until she knew more, it would be stupid to start doing a group-sharing exercise.

"Okay." They both looked at her, identical expressions, and she wondered vaguely if they were together, if he accounted for the ring on the woman--Jean's--finger. After a few seconds, watching the body language, she decided not. Took in the Professor again, scanning the scents she picked up--and her eyes went to the chair he was sitting in.

A wheelchair. Yeah, that meshed with her memories.

"I'd like to leave now. Someone will be wondering where I am." The Professor turned his full attention back to her and she felt the brush of his mind, locked hers down as hard as a non-telepath ever could, a big Don't Enter sign blazoned on the surface. She saw his lips twitch and was amused that he had a good sense of humor.

"You aren't completely healed, Rogue." Jean this time, and she looked worried--she was honestly worried, which was enough to make Marie pause. "If you go out like this--" She stopped, frowning, glancing at the Professor again. "It would be suicide. Give us a few days to find out why Sabretooth wants you--rest a little. If you want to leave then--" her hands traced the air with a peculiar feeling of finality.

Marie glanced between the two, eyes narrowing a little.

"Three days. Then I can leave?"

"Yes," the Professor said firmly--to Jean's evident surprise. "If you wish, I can locate your friend--"

Marie shook her head and laughed softly as she rose.

"No. He'll find me." Then looked at Jean. "I guess you can get me a room? I'm not really big on labs--even nice ones."

* * * * *

Jean dropped into a chair after showing Rogue to her room, leaving her to shower and dress, hopefully rest. Her head ached from the strain she picked up from the girl--even her best shields couldn't hold out the amazing storm of emotions that never touched the girl's face.

"What do you think, sir?"

Charles Xavier was rarely as at a lack for words as he was now, watching the door Rogue had exited with a coolly steady gaze.

"What did the exam show?"

"Her mutation is unusual--energy absorption through tactile stimulation." A soft sigh. "I'm guessing she could kill with it if she wants to."

"Controllable?"

Jean paused, pressing a finger to her lip, then rose, giving the professor a questioning glance, and he nodded quickly as she walked to the wine on the far table. Without ceremony, she poured two glasses and crossed to his desk to hand him a glass before taking a drink, allowing her shields to relax, allowing him to read her conflict.

"I'd say no--"

"But?"

Jean frowned.

"Either she's extremely well-trained in her mutation--which is possible but unlikely--or she can control it and for now chooses not to. Her mannerisms don't point toward an understandable paranoia about being touched, so--" A slow breath. "Did you feel something in her mind--something different?"

Xavier let out a long breath, nodding slowly.

"Someone gave her training in shielding," he answered, turning the glass slowly in his hand. "A telepath perhaps, or she studied advanced meditation. But there was something else--I could sense her--and almost an overlay of something else. Or someone else." A low sigh and he took a sip, considering. "Tactile stimulation causing absorption--possibly someone she's touched, but it was a strong residue."

"It's a permanent part of her personality, but it is definitely foreign." Jean took another drink, shaking her head, trying to coalesce her jumbled thoughts into something comprehensible. "I'm not sure what to think, sir. Excellent reflexes, muscle development--she was trained, of that I have no doubt. I'd like to see her run through the Danger Room simulations--if she's like this injured, I'd like to test her when she's at full strength." Meeting the Professor's eyes, she let him see the interview with Rogue in the lab, smiled a little to see his eyebrows jump in surprise.

"What else did you get off tests?" He was back to hard fact--Jean was in her essence and relaxed.

"Almost no scar tissue--at her age, that's unusual. Excellent muscle tone, reflexes, extremely high physical senses. I'd say upper olfactory and auditory--I could see her reacting to scent and hearing more acutely than even the upper norms. If I can, I'm getting her back in the labs and run a full battery." A pause. "Very strong--it surprised me, that and the shielding."

The Professor nodded slowly.

"Why would Magneto want her?" It was almost to himself, eyes narrowing at the door again. "She's unusual--but there are more powerful mutants, and certainly ones with less--let us say, unusually difficult gifts. If she can control it as you say--she is extremely dangerous."

"You don't think he wants to recruit her?"

"No--Sabretooth almost killed her. Though in his defense, I suspect she was using her mutation on him and it forced him into a corner." A twist of his mouth, as if he'd tasted something unpleasant. "I want to know who she's with and why."

Jean gave Xavier a startled look.

"Is it important?"

"I sensed worry--for him. Several other emotions came through as well--he's important to her."

"She wears army tags."

The Professor looked up, startled.

"Hers?"

"No. I'm assuming his--Wolverine was written on the metal."

The Professor straightened and put down his glass and Jean, startled, put her empty glass down, almost unaware she'd finished it.

"You've heard the name," she breathed. "What?"

A quick shake of his head and Jean stood up, crossing to his desk, planting both palms on the surface.

"Sir?" She ducked her head to meet his eyes. "Who is he?"

"Rumor. Nothing more." He was thinking, putting things together. "I follow some of the underground activities--ones that would attract mutants with nowhere to go. The name Wolverine--a very dangerous fighter and smuggler." A glance up at her, then he frowned again. "AKA Logan, among a few other names that have his particular stamp all over them. He's wanted for violent crimes across the country. He dropped out of sight--I know he was contacted by Eric some time ago, since he had certain connections Eric wanted to exploit. I was evaluating him for possible contact when--" he stopped. "When he disappeared, I assumed Eric had inducted him into the Brotherhood. But if he is attached to Rogue--then there is no reason for Eric to have sent Sabretooth after her."

"Unless Sabretooth has a grudge against her."

It was a thought, and the Professor sighed.

"Or he set her up."

"Unlikely." The Professor sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "It may not be the same man--but Jean, have someone keep watch on Rogue."

Jean felt her eyes begin to burn suddenly and turned her face away. Instantly, Xavier reached out, catching her chin, turning her toward him.

"Jean, it is--"

"This is our *home*." She bit her lip, fixing her gaze on the surface of the desk. "When I came here, it was the one thing you gave us--safety. To *spy* on one of our own kind-"

"Jean, it's as much for her protection as ours. To keep that safety. I'll talk to Scott--"

"His paranoia is affecting you. He'd move us all out of the country if he could." She reached down, clasping his hand in hers. "Sir--"

"There is a war coming, Jean. Whatever Eric is planning--if he's using Rogue as bait or--" a pause, then a soft sigh, and she knew this was bothering him as much as it was her. "Jean, to protect ourselves and the other students, it is necessary." Then he freed her, patting her hand gently. "Please ask Scott to speak to Bobby, Remy, and Jubilee. They are near her age--that should keep her comfortable and allay suspicions."

Jean nodded, defeated, and took a step back.

"It's just a precaution, Jean."

"Yes, I know. It's always just a precaution, sir."

With that, she turned on her heel, knowing she'd need to find Scott physically--her emotions were too close to the surface for her to risk the touch of minds. He'd sense too much from her and she'd hear all the arguments again and right now, Jean Summers couldn't handle it.

* * * * *

The room they gave her was rather nice, in an understated way. Comfortable bed, a pile of clothes in the middle fished up from somewhere, complete with gloves--Marie thought she could learn to like it here. After her shower, a subdued Jean showed her the way to the kitchen and the dining room, let her observe the students--yeah, this was definitely a working school. Even observed some classes, remembering vaguely from her own high-school days when the teachers would bring guests to tour the campus.

Jean's quiet surprised her. The natural curiosity she'd expected, even begun to enjoy, was muted, and when the dark eyes met hers--which the spent a lot of time suspiciously avoiding--she saw something vaguely like worry reflected in them. Worse, though, was the scent of fear, too strong even for Marie to ignore. (Marie had more than once wished *that* particular ability would fade just a little, but periodic exposure had grafted upper level senses into her, like some of the other habits she'd picked up from Logan).

Like right now, damn, she could use a beer. Or three, and maybe a cigar, and looking around, Marie considered asking if they had some--damn, they certainly seemed to have everything else.

It was more than fear, though--frustration, anger, sick worry, only some of which ever seemed to be focused on her. And Marie found herself twitching, rubbing her gloved knuckles absently without meaning to, feeling it like an itch she couldn't reach below the skin of her fingers and caught herself flexing her hand absently and locked her hands behind her back the third time.

"Nice school," she said to Jean, hoping that it would get her mind off whatever the hell was bothering her. Jean smiled a little as they came down the main stairs to the first floor. "More to it, though, right?"

A startled look and an arch of her eyebrows, giving nothing away, and Marie admired her control.

"What makes you say that?"

Marie shrugged.

"The lab is sublevel--and I looked at the elevator numbers and I know how long it takes to go up and down." A pause. "When you went to get me some clothes, your footsteps echoed at over a hundred and ten feet away and anyway the lab just isn't large enough to have a cellar built just for it, ya know?" A pause. "You have video monitoring in the lab that's on a closed circuit--it's well-hidden, I'll give you that, but I could hear the hum from the left far corner of the room. Most schools don't need that. Advanced upper level medical equipment--EKG, CAT, a few I don't even have names for, and a wide variety of drugs. I attacked you and you didn't get scared. Advanced computer function on the desktop with non-government standard encryption technology." Marie paused, seeing the glint of real humor in the woman's eyes. "And of course, the rumors of black-clad superheros who save norms from harm at the hands of other mutants and I do remember enough to remember being rescued myself by several someones all dressed in black." A wicked grin. "I'm not stupid, baby. Though I wanna see a plane that I *didn't* throw up in."

Jean laughed softly and shook her head.

"We weren't hiding it from you--but that's the Professor's area, not mine. He wanted you to get comfortable and relaxed before he began the big tour." Another smile, and Marie, staring up at the taller woman, suddenly felt that sharp pain of memory for Jamie. Something in Jean eased that ache, though, and she tried to dismiss the instant warmth, the friendship she sensed the other woman wanted to offer, but she just couldn't do it. "He'd like to see you again after dinner tonight. I'm guessing you don't want to have lunch in the dining hall so I thought we could have something to eat in the kitchen and you can ask questions to your heart's content."

Marie laughed.

"Works for me, Red. Just tell me you have steak and you may not ever get rid of me."

* * * * *