Chapter 8
Kitty sat in the parlor, struggling to focus on her book with her laptop stationed on the end table beside her. Two weeks had passed since the incident, and she had settled into a semblance of routine. Completing her final semester remotely from the mansion, she managed to reclaim a regular sleep pattern, her appetite returned, and a newfound sense of sociability blossomed.
Despite her desperate attempts to immerse herself in her studies, she found the subject matter overwhelmingly uninteresting, almost agonizingly so. Economics seemed disconnected from her future aspirations, but she persevered to be a model student, aiming for honors and other prestigious accolades. She felt the tendrils of anxiety tighten around her heart. She was graduating a year and a half late in the wake of the literal Apocalypse threat, anti-mutant sentiment flared up to an intense degree that returning to school immediately would have been unwise.
Glancing at her phone she discovered a welcome distraction. An unprompted message from Lance. A notably lengthy notification that couldn’t display the entire content on her home screen alone.
Unlocking her phone, Kitty was met with a sea of run-on sentences and typos. Lance’s words conveyed a depth of reflection on the recent events and genuine concern for her well-being. Acknowledging his shortcomings as a boyfriend, he admitted feeling helpless being one of the last to know about her danger. The fact that she was exclusively staying at the mansion added to his distress, leaving him unsure of how to cope. In a heartfelt expression of vulnerability, he confessed his difficulty in managing his emotions and his overwhelming desire to be with her, ensuring both her safety and the well-being of their relationship.
Unsure how to reply, Kitty smiled and tried to swallow her anxiety had been looming over her for the last several days. It had been nice not having to leave the security and comfort of the mansion. She was with her family, And the thought of going out into the world, or having to confront the nuances of dating someone at odds with your whole life philosophy sounded overwhelming. She knew that Lance meant well. And she wanted to see him too.
She looked out the window and considered her words carefully. Before she could formulate a response she got another text, this time from Tabitha. It simply read.
“Can I come crash there for a while?”
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In his cramped, yet cozy apartment, Scott sat at his desk, deep in contemplation, taking a mental hiatus from his studies. The third year of living away from the mansion had proven to be an overall positive experience. Initially, he had tried sharing space with roommates during his first year, but their unsavory cleaning habits and insensitive remarks about mutants led him to swiftly part ways.
By the second year, he managed to secure his own modest apartment in student housing, proposing the idea of cohabitation to Jean. She graciously declined, expressing her desire to focus on school and immerse herself in sorority life. At times, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy towards her ambition. Could someone be unfaithful to you with their education or work?
Scott stood up, stretching his body and growing accustomed to the symphony of pops it produced. He grabbed his empty mug, headed to the sink, and couldn’t deny that his apartment left much to be desired. At 400 square feet, it featured a circular floor plan dubbed “The Donut” by Kurt, with a living area, kitchen, separate bedroom, and a bathroom accessible from either end. Leaky faucets, windows that didn’t open fully, and harsh lighting made it a far cry from the mansion, yet it was his own space, and he was grateful for its lack of carpet to vacuum.
As the traditional man he aspired to be, Scott grappled with the timing of proposing to Jean — whether to wait until after college or ask now and handle the legalities later. Should he seek her father’s permission? Was that still considered acceptable? Overthinking prevailed, but amidst the uncertainties, he was certain about one thing: he wanted to marry her, and as soon as possible.
With the mug cleaned and set in its place, Scott reminded himself that he should soon be returning to his studies, but decided Hegelian Dialectics could wait a bit longer. Walking past his desk, he entered his room, flopped onto his neatly made bed, closed his eyes, and removed his glasses to massage what lie beneath them.
The approaching holidays brought set plans: Thanksgiving with her family and Christmas with the X-men. He was less anxious than the first time he had to navigate the family dynamics. While Jean’s parents were accepting of them, but remained subconsciously biased. Occasionally making small remarks about trusting people to use or not use their powers responsibly.
In a way he knew he was making things more difficult than it needed to be, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. He slid himself back into his seat at the table and took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside for now and returning to more short term concern–like passing this next semester.
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The danger room as alive with all manner of active threats. Fire, projectiles, buzz saws, live wires, all things Rogue had come to expect Logan to throw at her since she retained these new powers. She had gone from thinking she’d never see this room again to spending several hours a day in it.
“Logan, Ah just don’t see the point of all this,” Rogue complained as she effortlessly navigated through a dynamic obstacle course, a maze of razors, lasers, and telescoping robotic arms attempting to ensnare her. “You know, when Ah absorb someone’s powers, Ah also gain their knowledge of how to use them.” One of the many mechanical arms snagged her leg, disrupting her mid-flight trajectory.
“Don’t get too cocky, kid. This is the longest you’ve had active control over the powers you’ve absorbed. We need to run these tests so that we know what we’re dealing with here.”
Rogue forcefully freed her leg from the mechanical grasp by ripping it out of the wall and using it’s momentum to destroy another.
“Fine, what else ya got for me then?” As the words left her lips, a massive metal plate descended from above, threatening to crush her. Attempting to catch it midair, she found the force overwhelming. With all her might she flew into the obstacle with the intent to return it to its place of origin but despite her efforts to resist, she was shoved to the ground at an alarming rate. Planting her feet firmly beneath her, she continued to fight against the plate, realizing the strain it put on her. It took all of her focus to hold the object in place.
“Alright, Logan,” she grunted. “Ah think - ya proved - your point.” The plate retracted, and the danger room reset.
“It’s important to know the limits of what your powers can do for ya, kid. Calculated risks are part of the job around here.”
The mention of a “job” caught Rogue’s attention. “Job?” she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What job?”
“The job of being an X-man,” Logan stated authoritatively, leaving no room for elaboration or objection.
“What makes ya think Ah wanna go back to putting my life on the line for people who hate us?” She crossed her arms, shooting a piercing gaze at the man behind the protective glass of the observation deck.
“You’re one of us, like it or not. Don’t forget, without you the world would be a worse place. We may need your abilities on future missions.”
She disliked when he became this way given his selective adherence to these values, despite fighting alongside Captain America. She resented his renegade nature at times and admired it at others. She endeavored to never let it show that his focus on her powers made her feel trivialized, but she was starting to crack under the pressure. Opting to lean into the anger rather than shame or sorrow, she put her hands on her hips, dug her heels in, and stuck her jaw out as if she was daring him to argue with her.
“What if Ah don’t wanna be a mutant anymore?” She challenged. “What if Ah wanna take that cure they’re trialin’?” Rogue surprised herself, having never mentioned this to anyone before. She was certain she could hear Logan’s fists clench. Almost regretting her words, she steeled herself to confront her mentor.
“Then I suppose that’s your right, kid. You’re free to go.”
She gave a sigh of relief. The unexpected response stung more than she anticipated. Feeling uncertain about her contemplation to leave her mutant powers behind, she left the danger room. On the elevator ride up from the subbasement, one thing was clear, she needed a quick shower before she did anything else. Arriving on the dormitory floor, she noticed Kitty sitting alone in the parlor. Something about her seemed off, prompting Rogue to postpone her shower and check in on her frenemy.
“Hey,” Rogue said, taking a seat next to her.
“Oh, hey,” Kitty replied half-heartedly.
Deafening silence lingered between them for several moments.
“The rumor around the mansion is you still have that other girl’s powers.” Kitty wore poorly constructed a mask of her usual self, cheery and bubbly.
“Carol? Yeah.” Rogue looked at her hands. “Ah also still have a lot of her memories, and Ah feel like sometimes Ah think like her. The Professor said he and Jean took measures to ensure she didn’t take over my body, but Ah don’t know what those are.”
“That’s gotta be weirdly cool. Do you think you’ll be able to keep those powers? Like, forever?”
“Ah don’t know. They are kind of cool, aren’t they?” Rogue smiled, humoring Kitty’s attempt at levity.
“Flight, super strength, what else?”
“As far as Ah can tell, Ah’m damn near invincible.” She clenched a gloved fist.
“That sounds like a troubling combination. Your temper with the power to punch your way through a brick wall and like, not feel it?”
“Who knows how long Ah’ll get to keep it. Best not to get too used to it.”
“Why do you always have to take your own happiness away before you ever get to have it?” Kitty asked.
“Ah do not!” The protest was met with a deadpan stare from the woman sitting next to her.
“Ah guess I’m just tired of being disappointed,” Rogue admitted. “Tired of other people taking things away from me. This way, at least Ah get to be the one to do it.”
“Sounds exhausting,”
‘It is,’ were the words Rogue wished she could say, but what would come of it? She was accustomed to talking herself out of enjoying things that she wasn’t sure how to stop, or if she wanted to. Being shut off from the world felt like a small price to pay to be safe.
“Well, Ah need a shower. Logan tried to kick my ass in the Danger Room and almost succeeded.” She stood, mimed a parody of flexing her muscles, and let that action lead her into stretching her arms high and arching her back. “Talk to ya later?”
“Yeah, later..” She trailed off slipping back into her fugue state.
Kitty was grateful for the olive branch. While she couldn’t completely empathize with the ice princess, she liked to think they held a similar mindset from their shared experience. She raised a hand to her neck, remembering the feeling of the collar. She had faced danger before but never without her powers. She had grown used to being able to phase through anything or anyone, and it hadn’t occurred to her that she might not always have that ability.
Glancing at her phone she continued to feel anxious thinking about what to say to Lance. He didn’t always understand her emotional responses, and she worried that his reaction would potentially damage their strained relationship. Living in self-imposed exile in the mansion, she felt her world shrinking, and she couldn’t afford to lose any more people.
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By now the morning had given way to the afternoon. It was one of those fall days where it was summer in the sun, and winter in the shade. Dressed in simple athletic wear, Jean had set out to the courtyard with the intent of getting some exercise in. Running along the estate grounds was one of her simple pleasures as it afforded her a chance to clear her mind and stir feelings of nostalgia from her days playing soccer.
Earbuds in, music on, she began her warm up jog through the slumbering garden of dormant flora. It was blissful, the act allowing her thoughts to pass without judgement or worry was a rare respite for a telepath like her. Most of her time was spent on constantly controlling or monitoring her ruminations, but when she ran it was utter bliss.
The few leaves that clung to the tree danced past her on the wind, creating a beautiful display for her to enjoy before she let her mind free to explore any abstraction it wished. Her thoughts danced in her head, conjuring vivid images of future hopes, past mistakes, and her own emotional state. Musings of a wedding to Scott were chased by traumatic run-ins with anti-mutant activists. Replays of awkward social encounters lingered long enough before they melted into a meditation on what had happened after they had rescued Rogue and Carol.
She was transported back to the med bay the night they had rescued the women. She reached out to the professor well before they had landed, expressing her concern for what they had witnessed, and what she could sense in both women. He wasted no time, meeting them alongside Hank, each dressed in their night clothes and ready to assist.
“This is most concerning.” He said, scanning the mind of Carol. “I can only sense traces of a person.” Turning his attention to Rogue his expression read as remorseful.
By this point Hank had affixed his own monitoring equipment to the women, analyzing their vitals. The strange blonde had little in the way of brain activity but seemed to have a stable heart rate, blood pressure, and O2 levels.
“Her vitals are strong, but it would appear that our dear Rogue has brain activity for an additional entity.” Hank observed.
“We have helped Rogue before, I am certain we will be able to offer the same assistance here.” Xavier prepared himself and entered Rogue’s mind again. “Jean, if this force is as strong as we believe it to be, perhaps you should ready cerebro.”
“On it” was all that Jean said as she hurried toward the med bay door.
Attempting to tread deeper into the young X-man’s mind he was almost immediately overwhelmed by primal shrieks and endless nothingness. “Rogue! Can you hear me?” He called.
“Professor?” Rogue faded into view out of the expansive darkness that surrounded them. She looked tired, confused, and exhausted. “Ah don’t think I can fight her anymore. She’s too strong.”
“Yes you can Rogue.” He urged. “This is your mind. You can control the conditions.”
“It is takin everything Ah got to hold her back. Ah’ve never absorbed so much of someone before. Ah-” She was cut off by an arm snaking around her neck and hoisting her up into the air. Rogue struggled against the girl for a moment before throwing her over her shoulder and hurled them both to the ground.
Rogue tumbled off the woman and to her feet, ready to continue the brawl.
“Carol!” The professor urged, “We are trying to help you!”
“I don’t need your help!” She cried, wiping blood from her mouth. She prepared for another offensive strike when a metal cage appeared around her. Enraged, she grasped the bars and tried to bend them. It proved useless against her superior strength.
“Maybe this will calm you down.” Jean glided into view with the grace and ease that signaled that she had reached Cerebro.
Carol thrashed against the cold steel surrounding her for a few moments before she finally gave up. She looked exhausted, covered in sweat, bruises, and tattered clothing. She slumped down and began to catch her breath, but maintained an air of defiance to her. Her eye wild with rage.
“Carol, that is your name right? I am Professor Xavier. I understand you’re scared and confused.”
Carol did not respond. She simply sat on the floor, eyes downcast, hunched over and holding a wounded shoulder.
“While we do not know exactly how this has happened, we are very invested in returning you to your body and removing you from Rogue’s mind.” He gestured to an equally exhausted Rogue.
Carol remained silent.
“Somewhere inside you you must know this isn’t Rogue’s fault.”
Carol’s demeanor seemed to soften at that, but she still refused to make eye contact.
“Rogue did not ask for this, and while what has happened is terrible, it is no excuse to take away Rogue’s agency.”
“What about MY agency!?” Tears welled up in her eyes. There was a pregnant pause and the air held heavy as the three X-men considered the woman before them.
“We will try our best to help you, but you will need to work with us.” Jean said.
Despondent, defeated. She had exhausted herself and needed to rest. The cage wall to Carol’s immediate left had turned into a door that had swung open, an olive branch. A sign of trust. She rose to her feet and stepped out of the cage but visibly kept her guard up. It was then where her youth showed.
The professor approached her with a hand extended. You are a mutant, like us.
“I’m not a mutant!” She shrieked “I’m not one of YOU!” Carol lunged for Jean, but the cage door snapped shut and the bars grew in width until they met one another, forming a solid wall around her with one small opening for her to look out of.
“Professor?!” cried Jean.
“Let me go!” Carol howled with a rage so pure it echoed throughout the astral plane.
“Professor what are you doing?!” Jean pleaded.
“I’m sorry Jean, but we seem to be running out of options here.” The cell walls increased in thickness began to be pushed away into the recesses of Rogue’s mind where the rest of the traces of people in her resided. “We must think about Rogue’s well-being first.”
Her stomach twisted into knots and feelings of betrayal crashed through her at what she had just witnessed. Sure they had banished phantoms from Rogue’s mind before, but those had been copies of people. Not the entire person.
Sensing an unfamiliar presence nearby, Jean ripped herself out of her memory and scanned the area around her. She had made it clear to the edge of the property where the imposing brick wall divided the school from the rest of town.
“Who’s there?!” Jean called out. There was no reply, but a moment later she heard scuffling. She could sense them clearly now. Two younger boys running off in fear. She had caught them by surprise. She hoisted herself to the top of the wall in time to see them running off into the woods, leaving behind spray cans of paint and the words “Mutie Freaks” in uninspired lettering.