Wir Sind Keine Dämonen

Charles Xavier watched Logan pace back and forth at the rear of his office. Scott was quiet where he sat in the chair Logan had evacuated. Rogue seemed to be deep in thought. The four of them had not spoken for over a minute now.

“She never smelled like she was lying. The whole time. Even if you can’t see into her head, Chuck, she can’t fake that,” Logan growled.

“Thank you, Logan. That is both reassuring on many matters and still somehow worrisome on others.” Xavier rubbed his temples, feeling something akin to the headache he once got when he read a novel whilst accidentally wearing someone else’s reading glasses: something akin to strain.

“Tell me about it,” Logan muttered.

“What we really need to know is if she plans to try and stay with us. As it is, she seems to put Logan’s level of antisocial behavior to shame; she may not be eager to find herself suddenly surrounded by teenagers.” Scott faintly felt the urge to pace as well, but maintained the internal feel of stillness that had been truly responsible for his Fearless Leader title; his thinking was not muddled and he maintained a level of calm that was at once ruthless and unshakable.

“She doesn’t know if she wants to leave,” Rogue murmured, tapping her thumb on her lower lip, her fingers curled under her chin. “Who did she need to call?”

“I think she has connections of her own in the mutant community, in safe houses and little-known small groups. She mentioned them in her past, in her psychic training,” Xavier theorized. “Perhaps someone to take her away, assuming she does not trust us to let her go?”

“Or a second opinion.” Rogue clicked her tongue. “She’s not comfortable with how this place has made her reveal cards she doubtlessly keeps so close to the vest, and that Ah...that I’m too close. She may not fully trust her own judgement where Ah’m involved.”

“She values her own judgement. That I did perceive.” But watching Rogue, Xavier had to question himself.

“She does not like emotion,” Logan said.

“I see. She must see it as a threat to her judgement.” Scott turned to Rogue. “She...could help you with control, you think?”

Rogue swallowed. “Ah think she wants to, but Ah think she’s unsettled by it.”

There was a knock on the door. No one jumped this time, but Xavier looked up. “My first class. We may need to schedule a meeting with the team concerning this. I will speak again with Flux this evening.”

Scott got up quickly, but Logan stood still until Rogue was up and facing him. As she walked toward the door he met with her and put a hand gently on her shoulder. She did not glance at him, reacting with natural ease to the touch as Xavier rarely saw from her; the sight calmed him. Those two moved in sync in so many ways with such instinctive ease, not even the way that two people in love sometimes did, but like a pair of wolves from the same pack: a mixture of affection, reliance upon each other, and pure wordless understanding. It made Xavier feel a strange flicker of hope for the world, that people could feel such things.

“Ah’m okay, Logan,” Rogue murmured as they walked down the hall.

“...I know.” Logan sounded nervous. The headed for the back garden, leaving through the garage, all the time Logan’s hand gently resting on Rogue’s shoulder, leading her with the urgency of its soft insistence. As they began walking the garden path, loosing sight of the school amidst the trees and strategically placed shrubberies, he finally let go.

“What’s the matter?” Rogue’s brow was drawn in concern.

“Something she said about her nephew...” Logan stopped, turning to face her, his eyes solemn and showing a hint of fear as he placed both hands on Rogue’s shoulders. “If you are hurt, really hurt, and I can make it better by touching you––let me. Always. Every time.”

Understanding broke across Rogue’s face and she placed her hands over Logan’s, squeezing lightly. “Always,” she said firmly, seriously.

His head falling forward, Logan took a deep breath, and Rogue could hear it waver, but it was smooth as he exhaled, relief coming off him in waves. He met her eyes again as she squeezed his hands again.

“Let go in time that Ah won’t kill you. Please. It should never take that much. Ah’ll just need some of your healin’, but don’t give me every last drop just ‘cause...” She looked at him with fearful concern and something stubborn that would have been anger if not for the worried affection so present in it.

Logan nodded slowly. “Yes. I will.” He stopped. “But what if I’m not sure it’s enough?”

Rogue shook her head. “Trust me. It’ll be enough to keep me alive, and that’s all Ah can accept.” She smiled stubbornly. “Ah won’t die if you won’t, Logan, but only if you won’t.”

He returned her smile and stroked her hair, his fingers tangling in it at the back of her head. “Okay. I’ll have to settle for that.”

“You’d better,” Rogue growled. “It’s on your list of promises, now. As an addendum to the first one.”

“Wow. I have a whole two items on the list.” Logan mussed her hair a little, but she only giggled, shaking her head.

“Better?” She asked, stepping closer to him.

Logan took in her scent, then exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. How are you on the long-lost-relative front?”

Rogue looked thoughtful. “Can we walk as Ah talk about it? I’m still gettin’ my head around some of it.”

Logan reluctantly released his hold on her, noting that her hand still over his on her shoulder lingered, following his hand even as he pulled it away. And then they walked.

“It’s weird,” he offered.

Rogue sighed and gave an ironic grin. “We’re X-men. Weirdness is our forte.”

“Ya have a point.”

“This though, as far as family...Ah choose my family now, not by blood but because I love ‘em like family. They have to earn it or Ah have to see and feel that connection with ‘em. I’m not sure she’s done it yet, but...she shows promise. Y’know? She seems kinda...”

“Like us,” Logan murmured.

“Yeah. Not...not exactly the same, but close. Like a cross between the way we feel about Xavier and the way we feel about Kurt, but older and more distant.”

Logan snorted a laugh. “God, kid.”

“Tell me Ah’m wrong,” Rogue challenged.

“Nah. You’re right, it’s just funny the way you say it so well and so oddly.”

“Logan, Sugah, we are kinda odd.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“That explains the hair.”

“And you should talk.”

“But Ah, am aware that it’s odd.”

“Not like we can help it.”

“We could make it look like somethin’ else, but we don’t. We’re more honest than that,” Rogue murmured.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

~~

The next few days passed relatively normally. Rogue focused on her online college courses and training in the (now mostly glitch-free) Danger Room; she and Logan had begun running mission simulations together. No one was surprised how easily they worked together, but Rogue could tell it was beginning to irritate Scott, if only because he could not quite get his head around it, and that he would try to corner her and talk about it soon.

Flux was a merely peripheral presence, keeping herself easily out of sight most of the time, but within hearing range. Kurt had been the only one to approach her for reasonably long conversations. Apparently, they discussed religion of all things.

Rogue waited, knowing without words that there was something to wait for, some missing element and that it’s absence would somehow keep Flux from saying the right things. Rogue had, however, seen the elusive mutant in the observation box during her simulations.

That mysterious missing element arrived in the far-too-early hours of the morning as the fourth day after Flux’s awakening began. It arrived on a vespa. Inside the mansion at the local insomniacs’ club, Logan visibly winced as he heard the squealing cry of its motor coming up the driveway.

“Who the fuck has a Vespa?” he snarled.

“A vespa?” Rogue seemed confused.

“Yeah. It’s a scooter with a motor that sounds like a prolonged baby fart,” the wolverine complained, an expression of insulted pain written across his face. Kurt sniggered.

“Ah know. It’s just that nobody in the mansion owns one.”

“That would be for me,” Flux sighed, walking into the kitchen to grab her wallet from the battered grey trench coat hanging by the door. She then immediately left, headed for the garage. Logan, Rogue and Kurt exchanged curious glances, and promptly followed her.

The vespa’s motor was mercifully silent as Flux opened the garage door, light spilling out over the stylishly bundled-up figure standing next to the scooter. Calliope was tall and thin, dressed in a long black travel coat that screamed vogue, with matching English-style cap, thick black scarf, victorian black leather gloves, and riding goggles. She rolled the Vespa into the garage and ripped off scarf and goggles, knocking her hat askew, and shouted, “Darling!” before enveloping Flux in a ridiculously enthusiastic hug; especially considering that Flux’s only response was to stiffen her spine as the larger scales on her tail involuntarily bristled in discomfort.

Rogue had to bite her lower lip hard to keep from laughing. Logan’s facial expression, depicting hysterically amused surprise, was a work of art. Kurt stifled a snigger only semi-successfully behind both hands.

Calliope either did not notice them hovering in the doorway, or ignored them, continuing to squeeze Flux affectionately. “Darling, it’s been ages!” Logan shivered and felt something like an itch deep in his ears. There was something about Calliope’s voice as she spoke... “What fantastically dangerous or bizarre adventure have you stumbled upon this time? I’m dying to hear it.”

“You soon will be if you do not get off me, Calliope,” Flux growled.

“I see you still have your hopelessly warm and compassionate humor,” Calliope sighed, but released the scaly mutant, pulling back and folding her hands behind her back.

“And you still make my ears itch when you talk like that,” Flux complained, shaking her head like a cat with water in its ears. “Can you choose a less...commercially chipper tone?”

“Is this better?” Calliope’s voice had become lower, slightly smoky and very smooth.

Kurt found himself suddenly captivated.

“Stop seducing our eavesdroppers,” Flux snapped.

“Fine,” Calliope sighed, this time in a voice utterly natural to the fair runway-model-pretty face exposed above the obviously expensive clothes. “You take all the fun out of things.”

“I assume you had someone else tie on that massive bundle to your...vehicle?” Flux eyed the load with resignation; it was roughly half her own weight.

“Do I look like I do any heavy lifting?” Calliope cocked her slender hips to one side and rested her gloved hands on them in a smugly confidant gesture.

“Did I tell you how I rather missed it when the body you had actually had useable muscle?” Flux countered, then turned to face the doorway behind her. “Logan, help me with this load. It’ll be easier to handle its bulk with two people, and I know you want this liquor handled safely.”

Rogue laughed at the way Logan rushed forward, pushing easily past Kurt as Flux popped the claw of her right thumb and began cutting the load free of the vespa. Calliope looked him over appreciatively.

“Logan, this is Calliope; Calliope, Logan,” Flux introduced, not looking up from her work. Logan kept his hands on the well-wrapped bundle so it would not fall off as it was freed, but turned to get a better look at the stranger, who waved at him with a cheerful smile.

“Alright it’s free. Now I’ll get this end, you get a grip on the underside of the other...”

They lifted the crate and began heading towards the doorway. “To the bigger kitchen, if you please,” Flux commanded. The mansion had one homely kitchen, small and normal; it also possessed a larger kitchen where the large meals for the whole student populace were prepared. It had more counter space, was four times the size of the other kitchen, and had a series of movable “islands” of workspace, currently arranged together in a continuous U-shape with their wheels locked. It was one of these islands that Logan and Flux lowered their load onto.

“I’d ask how your friend managed to drive a vespa with that load, but...” He looked at Calliope pointedly.

“Yeah. She’s a lightweight,” Flux agreed, even as she untied the burlap at the top of her load. Kurt and Rogue slid into the room unobtrusively and pulled up a couple of chairs. Flux introduced them, and began pulling a series of boxes and paper-wrapped bottles from the main sack of the bundle.

“Don’t let her talk to you too intently, and try to keep half-distracted if she tries to talk to you alone,” Flux warned.

“You wound me, my friend,” Calliope sniffled.

“Vhat is your power? Something mit your voice?”

“I can manipulate my vocal cords to do most anything with sound waves it is possible to do, especially if I need organic life forms to do it,” Calliope explained as she unbuttoned the wrists of her gloves and unbelted her jacket. Rogue admired the woman’s stylish leather riding boots, and estimated their cost to be a little more than some of the cars in the garage.

“So you’re a little psychic? Able to influence minds?” Rogue inquired.

“Yes. I specialize in hypnosis and have always been in-demand as a voice-over actress, a singer, and I’m also quite competent with most musical instruments.”

“She can also talk her way into someone’s brain. Literally,” Flux added.

“Yes,” Calliope said softly, her eyes narrowed in irritation. “Let me guess, they know how old you are and you want to belie my youthful appearance as well?”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Changed...bodies...”

“This girl had been in a coma for several years following her near-death at the hands of a sadistic would-be killer. Her brain was damaged and she had no will to live. I explained what I could do and she begged me to give her peace,” Calliope explained tersely.

“You killed-” Kurt began.

“No!” Calliope shouted it the same time Flux snapped it. Calliope shot Flux a look that might have been grateful were it not still a tad annoyed.

“She is asleep in here,” Calliope tapped the side of her head. “By her own will. If she wants to wake up, she can. I taught her how. If you don’t believe me, I’d be happy to show your Xavier guy around enough for him to get the picture. This is the third time I’ve done this, and I’ve never done it against anyone’s will.”

“Sorry,” Kurt squeaked meekly.

Calliope shrugged, tugged off her gloves, pocketed them, and pulled off her jacket, hanging it up on a peg near the door and showing off the perfectly tailored pinstriped black pants, neat chocolate brown vest, and puffy white dress shirt she wore beneath it. Kurt slipped away and joined Flux, helping her sort through a fantastic variety of colored bottles, pulling their intoxicating glory from the drab cocoons of their paper and cardboard packaging. Logan stole Kurt’s seat, exchanging a glance with Rogue, both of them communicating curiosity, amusement, and a hint of confusion.

Calliope sat on the corner of another island, kicking her feet a little. She really did look like she had just stepped off the catwalk of some uber-rich fashion show. She fiddled with her hat. “So, what exactly is it that has my dear Flux tied up in knots?”

Flux shot her a glare.

Rogue raised her hand. She was aware of her rumpled black silk pajamas, her comparatively cheap cotton gloves, and how messy her hair was, but did not care. “Ah think I’m one of the main issues.”

Calliope gave her a nerve-wracking head-to-toe appraisal. “Well, Flux, she is cute.”

Amusing reactions of shock burst forth from all but Flux, who only glared smoothly and said, “That is not my problem here. She’s Isaac’s granddaughter.”

Kurt, who had given in and gotten his explanations concerning Flux from Logan and Rogue the previous night, felt glad he had done so.

Calliope leaned back, a look of elegant surprise written in her bright hazel eyes. “Reeeally?” She bit her lower lip lightly and rubbed her chin. “That is interesting.”

“Your flippancy is annoying,” Flux bit out.

“Okay, sorry. I’m not used to being taken seriously, anymore. The last few years have gotten to me, hang on.” Calliope shut her eyes and slowly eased into a serious expression, her spine straightening from casual girlishness into a solemn maturity. “Ah. I’d forgotten how good that feels to engage my full competency. Okay,” she exhaled, steepling her fingers and looking up at Rogue.

“Yes?” Rogue raised one eyebrow at her.

“How do you feel about this? Or has Flux been too antisocial for you to decide whether or not you like her?” Calliope’s entire manner had smoothed, though her voice was thankfully unchanged. Flux winced a little at her words.

“Ah’d have to go with that antisocial bit.”

“Mmm. Well, she has been walking around alone in the wilderness away from the rest of man and mutant kind for a few years now. When she does that she tends to come back with the temperament of a half-feral cat. It’ll wear off eventually.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s true, my darling,” Calliope countered before turning to Rogue again. “She probably hasn’t even mentioned why she’s such a loner except what you guys can infer from her ordeal with Isaac. I’m guessing she hasn’t even mentioned Abelia.”

Flux froze for a long moment, aware of the eyes on her, then calmly opened an elegant bottle of peppermint schnapps, and drained it in under half a minute. “Okay. Go on,” she said quietly.

“She and Abelia were lovers. Abelia being a lovely little empath who could literally ‘breathe life’ into plants and people. Flux met her in the 1930’s when they were both in their 20’s. They were quite good together, and Abelia even helped her through Isaac’s death.”

Logan glanced at Flux, expecting her to drain another bottle, but she merely sipped patiently on a fine brandy and offered some to Kurt before pouring herself a shot. And then three more as Calliope continued.

“The only problem was...that Abelia could not breathe new life into herself, and so she aged like a normal human.” Calliope’s eyes fell downward and her listeners knew she had discovered her own problems in this area. “And Flux never will. She had to helplessly watch her beloved fade, worn away by the innumerable tiny blows inflicted by the passage of time.”

“Dammit, you used that phrase in one of your novels, didn’t you,” Flux sighed.

Calliope gave a guilty half-smile, heavy with something sad. “Couldn’t help it, my dear. It’s got poetry in it, even if it’s tragic.”

“So you keep saying, and if I were less objective I’d disagree; as it is I still begrudge you.” Flux had another shot of brandy, savoring this one to remind herself how it was too fine to drink too carelessly. Logan poured himself a shot as well.

“So, as you might guess,” Calliope concluded, “Flux, here, developed some serious attachment issues. She has turned herself into a walking, talking, indestructible glacier with an impregnable skull: not a bad person but sharply amoral, charitable and generous but ruthless, and generally an all-around ice queen.”

Flux looked up at Calliope calmly. “And?”

“And I think you’ve got an interesting group here. Is he metal, too?” Calliope pointed at Logan, who looked very perturbed. “He moves as if his bones are a bit heavy; although it’s done wonders for his muscles.”

“Yes. He’s also got some adamantium. He heals faster than me.”

“And your little great-great-niece here has Isaac’s powers, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Calliope looked between Rogue and Logan a bit too keenly and they both felt their metaphorical hackles raise. “I think you’d do well here, Flux m’dear. I’ll hang out a bit longer if you like. I assume you left my briefcase in the bottom of the burlap sack like a rude person?”

“As always.”

“Then yeah, I’m set. Where’s your room? We can have a sleepover.”

Flux shot Calliope an exasperated look. “There’s an empty room across the hall from mine. Feel free to use it.”

“Alright, fine. Spoilsport.”

Flux gave her directions, handed her the suitcase from the burlap sack, and Calliope ran off to check out her temporary digs.

“How on earth did you two end up friends?” Kurt asked immediately. Flux smiled weakly.

“We’ve both been around a very, very long time, and saved each other’s asses a few times. At some point––or perhaps at several, the memories are understandably blurry––we got drunk enough and bonded. She’s a huge media success in all her incarnations, and I occasionally run jobs or provide her my unique variety of security.”

“Security?” Logan asked.

“I make sure no one is out to assassinate her now and then, and if I find that someone is the I promptly take care of the issue.”

“Why did you need her here? The brandy is great, by the way.” Logan had his third shot of it and poured another, which he handed to Rogue as she joined them.

“Thanks. And I need her here to give me an objective view of my sanity as I decide what I’m going to do about...my life, apparently.” As she said it, Flux eyed the mansion kitchen.

“And me,” Rogue asked, hopping up to sit cross-legged in the middle of the island immediately next to the one covered in liquor. She licked her lips and tasted the remains of her shot of brandy.

Flux looked at her with an odd touch of softness. “Yes. I...would like to offer to train you, if you think you trust me with it.” She thanked Kurt when he handed her a much-needed shot.

“Ah don’t know anyone else remotely qualified.”

“But do you trust me?” Flux inquired.

Rogue rolled her empty shot glass between her gloved hands. “Ah trust very few people, Flux.” Her dark eyes peered up through a few loose tendrils of cream and coffee hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail. “You took away my nightmares the night ya woke up, didn’ ya?”

Flux nodded silently.

Rogue held her gaze evenly and was quiet for a long moment. “Ah trust you to know how to deal with my skin and not kill ya’self or hurt me. The rest will have to build as we go.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Flux’s face. “Good answer.”

Rogue gave a more confident smile.

After a few minutes of peaceful drinking and lighter conversation, Logan, unable to help himself, had to ask, “So...you’re a lesbian?”

Flux paused, her shot partway to her lips, and shot Logan a look as though he were an alien from the planet tactless in the galaxy of what-the-fuckery, but her voice when she answered was very calm and even. “Only halfway.”

Kurt and Logan both choked.

“I think I like you,” Rogue said to Flux.

“Oh Gott, the brandy in mein nose! Ow-ow-ow! Sssssssss.”

Once he had coughed enough to satiate his body’s need to purge his lungs of brandy, Logan gave a toothy grin. “Alright, I’ll give you points for that one.”

Flux shrugged. “I wish I could say the same, but I’ve been using that line for as long as people asking it have known what ‘lesbian’ meant, and I’ve gotten much funnier reactions than yours to my little confession of bisexuality.”

“And mine?” Kurt asked, even as his eyes watered.

Flux pursed her lips. “I’d give you about a 7 out of ten. Logan, you got a 4.”

There was a thud from upstairs. Flux sighed. “I suppose I must attend to Calliope. If you would all be so kind as to put the liquor into the cabinet above the teacher’s only fridge, the combination on the safe I put in there is 42–14–3–87–29, then you guys and only you guys will all have access to said liquor. I accept your adulation in advance. Goodnight.” And she left. They waited until Logan seemed sure she was upstairs and distracted. It helped that the heater turned on.

As they put away the liquors...

“Zhat woman...”

“A little insane, Rogue,” Logan warned.

“By what standard, Sugah? We ain’t exactly in our right minds so far as most people would be concerned.”

Logan snorted.

“Zhe lady has a point, Logan. Even I’m at tad eccentric.”

Logan and Rogue both sniggered.

“Vhat?”

“Nothin’, Honey.”

“It was just a bit of an understatement.”

“At least mein hair ist normal.”

There was an expectant pause.

“Oh shut up. Leave me mein small victories.”

They assented, even if they appeared far too amused, and finished putting away the liquor. Rogue watched them close the safe and seemed to think of something with sudden clarity. A bright smile tugged at her lips and she leaned against the kitchen counter.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” Logan teased lightly.

Rogue shook her head and giggled, looking at her feet.

Logan caught sight of the glitter of tears, but she wiped at the corners of her eyes quickly and looked up at him again with a grin.

“She’s gonna do it, Logan.” She giggled helplessly, elatedly, her eyes still shining. She laughed more as Logan pulled her sideways into a tight hug. her messy hair forming a barrier between her face and his bare chest as she clutched at his arm and he squeezed her.

Kurt watched them with a faint grin. “Congrats, Rogue.”

“No congrats yet, Kurt, but you can wish me luck.” Rogue smirked a little.

“Zhat I do,” Kurt assured.

“Good luck, Marie,” Logan whispered into her hair. Rogue’s smirk smoothed into a gentle smile even as Logan released her. Kurt bit his tongue to keep himself from embarrassing them or ruining the moment by pointing out just how ridiculously cute they were sometimes.

~~

When Hank returned from Washington the next day he went into an ecstatic furor over the information Flux had been able to provide him concerning mutant heredity and immediately cajoled Logan, Rogue, and Flux into the med lab.

“Why am I here, exactly? Not that I don’t enjoy the company.” Although he spoke evenly and casually, Logan’s eyes darted around the med lab with a look of nervousness. He and laboratories had blatant long-standing issues.

“Considering Flux’s data on just how hereditary similar mutations can be, I’m curious to see how similar your X-gene is to hers––at least, the one she inherited from her father, which may or may not lie semi-dormant in Rogue. I am curious to see, Flux, how the compounding of X-genes seems to work.”

“You should call down Kurt, then, too. I’m willing to bet that both of his biological parents were mutants,” Flux offered.

“Really?” Hank asked as he took Flux’s blood sample.

“Yes. It’s not very often I come across someone whose variety of mutant characteristics threatens mine in number, but in every case that someone has I find that asking about their family leads to either a big question mark because they, like Kurt, were adopted, or an all-mutant parental heritage.”

“Fascinating.”

“Flux?” Logan looked away from his arm as Hank took his sample.

“Yes, Logan?”

“You don’t think...that I’m a distant relative?” He sounded hesitant.

Flux strode over and picked up Logan’s free hand, tracing a line from the gap between his index and middle finger down the back of his hand and his forearm, following the line of his sheathed claw. “No. I do not think you are. You do not smell like my family––not just because of the adamantium––and your claw structure is very different. This is a case more of parallel evolution...or would that be convergent, Hank?”

“If you are not closely related, as you think, it would be convergent,” Hank corrected.

Flux nodded, releasing Logan’s hand. “Sorry I can’t help you with your past in that manner, Logan.”

Logan shook his head. “S’okay.”

“As it is, I am trying to put together a database containing as many samples of the x-gene as possible. It seems to vary a great deal between individual mutants, but remains more similar amongst blood relatives. With enough samples, perhaps we can put together a map of mutant evolution similar to the mitochondrial DNA-map of human out-of-africa evolution.” Hank finished with Logan, setting the blood sample aside, and moved on to Rogue.

“I assume you have samples from the students here, then?” Flux inquired.

“Yes, but not purely for that database. Mutants are notorious for their peculiar medical histories and odd medical conditions, and a blood sample on their arrival will allow us to cope with any anomalies to the best of our ability. In your case, Rogue, we may need to entirely re-process the information we have on your X-gene if we find that it has not only the active gene inherited from the mutant Ahmad, but perhaps some part of a less-active version of the x-gene from Flux’s father.”

“Ah think Ah understand that. Kinda. Glad we could help with your research, Hank.”

“I am most grateful.”

“I’ll help further if I can, Hank. I’ve always maintained an interest and comprehension of the biological sciences, but I warn you that I cannot touch even vaguely modern technology without horrible things happening. Do not even let me touch a computer. I have a personal theory that such items can sense how old I am and thus decide to violently rebel against me,” Flux mused.

“Your age has given you grand opportunities to view large samples of the mutant populace over time, and I will most assuredly come to you with both questions and findings.”

“Thank you.” Flux smiled faintly then seemed to realize she was doing it and looked momentarily surprised.

~~

Rogue finished her essay for her psychology course with a growl of irritation, but upon sending it in online she arched back in her chair and rubbed her eyes as she stretched, groaning in relief and exhaustion as the odd colorful swirls behind her eyelids helped erase the ocular fatigue caused by staring into a computer screen for so many hours.

“Ugh. Ah can’t believe Ah’m doin’ this shit intentionally,” Rogue grumbled, pulling herself out of her computer chair and stretching again, this time until her back popped and she gave a satisfied sigh.

She was surprised to find Calliope in the kitchen sipping what appeared to be some kind of fruit juice. Rogue grabbed a glass and went to the fridge to pour herself a glass of milk.

“I met the charming man with the blue fur. I’ve never been asked so politely to have a blood sample taken. He was very curious about my body-transfer thing and whether my presence somehow transferred my genetic material as well,” Calliope offered, by way of starting a conversation.

“Hank is like that.” Rogue’s voice was lightly affectionate.

“Even I could’t get a word in edgewise when he and Flux started babbling about heredity and the DNA of the X-gene. I think that for years, secretly, Flux has been dying to ramble about mutant evolution with someone she doesn’t have to explain every little scientific bit to because we haven’t bothered to be as much of a science geek as she has.”

“You just want to see her with her guard down. Ya want her t’ shed her isolationism.” Rogue sat across from Calliope at the smallish breakfast table in the corner.

The woman stared at Rogue with a look that made her hazel eyes too old and too bitterly wise for the youthful modern supermodel face around them. “I’m one of the only people still alive and un-senile who still remembers what she was like before Isaac died. She may feel safer with her heart and soul protected by a layer of ice, but I’m selfish and I want to see her intellect and her sharp-edged personality alive with the humor and passion I know she’s slowly let be buried in an internal snow drift. There was a time when her self-control was not stiff and immovable, but fluid and easy. I miss it.”

Rogue looked down at the table and took a sip of her milk. “Ah’m sorry. Ah kinda know how ya feel, or at least Ah come as close as my age will allow. Logan was iced over like that when we first met. If he somehow wen back t’ that...”

“No chance, m’dear.”

Rogue looked at her oddly. “How d’you know?”

“The way the two of you move in that odd sort of sync, the way he moves around this place. That’s something alive, something fluid and flexible. He’s part of a pack, now, and you’re in the same boat. It’d take some serious psychologically dislocating shit to break those ties.”

“Have you seen it before?”

Calliope thoughtfully swirled the last quarter of her drink in the bottom of her glass. “I saw it in its less stable form, with Flux, her nephew, her half-brother, and Abelia.”

Rogue swallowed thickly, setting down her glass. “What went wrong?”

“Some seriously psychologically dislocating shit, and right from the start,” Calliope sighed with obvious bitterness. “And general mortality all around. Did Flux mention anything about Isaac’s mother?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Ah understood that.”

“Isaac was a bit unstable after that, even with his aunt’s help and such. It struck discordant notes in his connection with the rest of the group. And then Flux’s half-brother, Thomas, the one with healing, he died due to a mixture of over-confidence, bad timing, and underestimating his enemy––even if they did admittedly seem to be just another angry mob who thought he was a demon.” Calliope shook her head. “They had hurt Isaac, so Tom let him take a hit of healing and decided to provide a distraction by letting the mob chase him. They chased him into a trap, and...managed to mutilate him beyond his ability to heal.”

“And Abelia was just mortal,” Rogue murmured.

Calliope nodded. “I don’t think she was really part of the pack structure so much. She wasn’t connected like you and that Canadian, which is how Flux, Thomas, and Isaac were. If I were less totally self-centered I might’ve been a part of it, but I’ve lived as long as I have only by being this utterly self-centered, so perhaps not.”

“You know her real name, don’t you?” Rogue murmured.

“Yes. Who knows yours?”

“Who do you think?”

Calliope smiled. “Good. That’s good.”

Rogue took a long sip of milk and set down her glass, licking her lips as she looked down at the table. “You think Logan and Ah are more stable?”

“I’m pretty damn sure you won’t die anytime soon if he won’t, and he’s indestructible so long as you won’t let him sacrifice himself for you. The only way it could be safer, would be if you could eventually not even need such a sacrifice.” Calliope finished her drink.

“You figured that all out already?” Rogue was unnerved.

Calliope smiled a little. “I may have talked to a few people and found out about the Statue of Liberty thing after watching the both of you run a sim in the Danger Room.”

“You cheated, then,” Rogue concluded, a little relieved.

“I do that.”

Rogue shook her head a little and slowly finished her milk.

“You knew Isaac, then?”

“Yes. While he was training, even.” Calliope put both of her hands flat on the table. “Would you like me to show you part of it? The training?”

“Uhm, I...don’t know. You can’t block me, can you?”

“Well, no. Not like Flux, but I won’t actually touch you, I can promise that.”

Rogue bit her lip. “How are ya gonna ‘show me’ exactly?”

“Take off one glove and put your hand in the middle of the table. You’re familiar with meditation?”

Rogue tugged the glove off her right hand slowly. “Yeah.”

“How about yogic breathing?”

“Yes.” Rogue’s hand, once bared, hovered nervously for a long few moments before she slowly extended it and placed it palm-down in the middle of the table.

“Close your eyes, start doing some yogic breathing. My hands are not near yours right now. Relax.” Calliope’s voice was soft, soothing, and Rogue found herself lulled by it. She slipped easily into the pattern of breathing Storm had taught her to use as they went through their yoga poses.

“Try to be relaxed and aware, perfectly calm and perfectly focused,” Calliope continued. As soon as she suggested something, Rogue felt herself arriving there. She was relaxed and aware, calm and focused.

“Now, I’m going to hold my fingers very close to the back of your hand. How does your skin feel as my hand comes closer?”

Rogue’s brow furrowed. For a moment she felt merely the warmth from the proximity of Calliope’s hand, but then she was aware of something else, almost electric at first.

“It feels like static, almost. More like your hand is static and something in my nerves is reaching for it, like when your hair stands up when a static-charged balloon gets close enough,” Rogue murmured.

“Good...”

“Calliope!” The voice was foreign, and to Rogue it seemed strangely distant. “You will not try to teach her with hypnosis.”

Rogue’s eyes snapped open and she pulled her hand away from Calliope quickly, her breathing suddenly rapid with something like alarm. Flux stalked toward them from the doorway, her eyes bright with anger. Calliope winced, but the lines around her mouth showed more indignation than anything else.

“I was just going to give you a bit of a hand, speed up the process-”

“With a short cut. With some kind of trigger construct that will doubtlessly be incomplete and subject to being influenced more by assumption than concrete awareness,” Flux growled.

Calliope’s mouth tightened into thin line.

“Thank you for introducing her to being a little more aware of her power. It should be easier for her to recognize that feeling, and that’s kind of handy, but please do not try to help any further. What she needs is self-control over something she is fully aware of, not anything that is hypnotically suggested so that it appears suddenly out of the unknown. I appreciate that you want to help, but please leave me to my own methods.” Flux held Calliope’s gaze for a long moment.

Calliope finally sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “So you’ve already decided to stay here, then?”

A faint twitch at the corner of Flux’s mouth. “I believe so. I think we will need to discuss my sanity later tonight.”

With a tight smile, Calliope nodded, and rose to her feet. She looked at Rogue. “Sorry, m’dear, for overstepping my bounds and inadvertently stepping on everyone’s toes. I’ll go to my room and scold myself, now.”

Flux watched her leave with a tired look.

“Ah should’ve been more wary, or at least remembered ya advice,” Rogue murmured, heavily apologetic.

Flux shook her head. “It’s her specialty to get people off-guard. You’re not at fault.” She sniffed gingerly at Calliope’s empty glass. He eyes widened and she darted to the refrigerator, pulling out the half-empty bottle of cranberry juice. She opened it and sniffed again, then sighed. “No. She still can’t make cranberry and vodka in a glass like a normal person.”

Rogue sniggered. “Ah’ll help ya with it. Let me just rinse my glass.”

Flux settled in the chair Calliope had vacated and refilled the hypnotic mutant’s glass with the alcoholic cranberry juice. When Rogue sat down across from her, she filled Rogue’s glass as well.

“I do hope you will not hold it against me that I wouldn’t let Calliope do that.”

“No. Ah understand what ya mean about self-control. It’s...it’s one of my highest values, and I’m glad you seem to want to keep it from bein’ infringed upon.”

Flux smiled faintly, and Rogue knew she had given the right answer. They drank for a few minutes in comfortable silence.

“She misses you, ya know,” Rogue said finally.

“So she keeps telling me,” Flux sighed.

“Nah. She looks at you and says ‘I missed you’ but it’s not past tense.”

Flux looked at Rogue seriously. “She was talking about the glacier thing again, mm?”

Rogue nodded. “Ah get where she’s comin’ from.”

“And do you get where I’m coming from?”

Rogue tapped the side of her glass with her one still-ungloved hand, which looked foreign to her. “Yeah. Ah do. Ah’d be the same way in ya position.” Another tap. “But Ah don’t think ya need to be frozen here, not with us.” Rogue looked at her very solemnly. “We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Flux stared back, a flicker of hope in her eyes even as a touch of pain showed at the corners of her mouth. “Not intentionally, maybe,” she said quietly.

Rogue shook her head. “Ah came within a hair’s breadth, literally-” she indicated her white steaks pointedly. “-of death, two times within the first week Ah was here. Ah tried to wake Logan from a nightmare and he accidentally clawed me.” Rogue pressed her bare knuckles to the part of her chest he clawed and watched Flux’s eyes linger there. “That was how Ah found out Ah could ‘borrow’ mutations. Ah touched him, and he healed me. Erik and Mystique lured me outta the mansion to use me like a battery for Erik to charge and let die while his machine turned some world leaders int’a mutants. The X-men destroyed the machine, but it had still left me so far gone that it took...it took a long time before my mutation even kicked in so Logan could give me his healin’; and yet, here Ah still am. Ah’m stronger and more calm than the runaway Ah was. Ah got a lot of useful stuff from Logan and Erik in my head and I’m not squeamish about usin’ it; Ah’m not foolish, and Ah know my limits. Ah won’t pretend t’ be indestructible like you and Logan, but you gotta admit that barring an absolute catastrophe, you ain’t gonna get much better odds for longevity than mine without an adamantium skeleton, Sugah.”

By the time Rogue finished, Flux found herself smiling, her eyes unusually bright. She reached across the table and took Rogue’s gloved hand, squeezing it gently. After a long moment, Flux gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll bet on those odds.” She hesitated, holding Rogue’s hand in both of hers, running a scarred thumb over the gloved knuckles. “We’ll start your training tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock in that small side-gym the students don’t use.”

“You still don’t wanna thaw.”

Flux smirked a little. “You’ve got some fire in you. Something tells me I won’t have a choice.” She released Rogue’s hands and watched her put her other glove back on.

“Of course you won’t.” Logan smirked when he saw Rogue jump at the sound of his voice. She spun around and gave him a glare that demanded to know when he got here, but Logan only held her gaze and kept smirking, raising one eyebrow. “She grows on ya.”

“Apparently,” Flux teased, finishing her first glass of cranberry and vodka only to refill it.

“Insomniac’s anonymous gettin’ an early start tonight, Logan?”

“Nah. Just generally feels like a nocturnal-prowling sort of night.”

“Ah shoulda known. Ya actually got a shirt on, still.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Logan countered. He looked at their drinks, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. “Why did ya make so much of that stuff? It’s too...”

“Fruity. I know. For whatever reason, Calliope cannot make a single glass of such drinks, and mixes it in the bottle,” Flux sighed.

“My condolences,” Logan offered.

“Mm.” Flux seemed to brush it off.

Rogue was perplexed when suddenly she and Logan both shuddered and covered their ears, cursing under their breaths. “Uhm...guys?”

“Speaking of the devil, That’d be Calliope’s version of a dog-whistle. I’m going to go yell at her now, and possibly drown her with this.” Flux picked up her drink and the bottle, and stormed from the room.

“Jesus Christ,” Logan groaned, shaking his head as if trying to get water out of his ears. He glared when Rogue giggled at him. She stopped abruptly when he gave an evil smirk and stalked toward her.

“Er, Logan?” She scrambled out of her chair and started backing away. “What’re ya doin’? Ya nah hypnotized, right?”

“Nope.” He stopped abruptly, and Rogue did too, so she couldn’t get away fast enough when he suddenly seized her waist and began tickling. She gasped and began giggling hysterically, helplessly, unable to struggle with her full strength as Logan kept tickling.

“EEE! Logan! Stoppit!” She was panting. “Can’t breath, hahahaha stop, Logan.” She squealed and fell to the floor.

Logan crouched down and watched her catch her breath with an amused look.

She pointed at him accusingly. “You...” She was still panting too heavily to reply quickly,

“Yes?”

“Evil.”

“And?”

“Bad.” She flicked his nose.

“Don’t make me-”

“EEP!” Rogue curled up into a tight ball, covering her sides with her bent arms.

Logan burst out laughing.

“Damn you.”

He only laughed harder.


~~


Kurt war crouched comfortably on the third-floor balcony railing, a mug of hot spiced rum-and-cider in his hand and a blanket over his shoulders even with his coat on. Flux, beside him with her own mug of the same drink, wore a tank top and well-worn knee-length shorts that clung tight to her narrow hips before widening so that they were very loose; there was a strategic hole just beneath the shorts’ waistline for her tail. Kurt’s breath steamed in the winter air, forming thick clouds that faded quickly. Flux breathed blue traces of steam that scarcely seemed to form before they were gone; the only time her clouds had more form was after a sip of her drink.

“You and Calliope...”

“Never more than accomplices. Despite her attempts.”

“But you have known her so long, and she seems to know you vhell.”

“She is...a purely self-centered creature. She has to be, to survive like she does, and to be sure she will continue to survive. Our personalities do not compliment, and I have never been interested in her that way.” Flux smiled into her rum and took a sip. “You are confused about my sexuality. And, if I am not mistaken, Rogue’s, as I believe she is bisexual as well.”

Kurt made a series of awkward sputtering noises.

Flux gave a low chuckle. “It’s okay.”

“I am not...It is not zhat I am unfamiliar mit zhese t’ings; I vos in zhe circus. I do admit zhat I have never really understoodt...”

Flux appeared thoughtful. “Do I exude ‘teacher’ vibes?”

Kurt smirked a little as he sipped from the heated contents of his mug, glorying in the heat. “You exude wisdom, fremder, and you know a lot of t’ings, and you are good mit words.”

“Hummm,” Flux breathed over the surface of her drink, sending the thick steam scattering. “That makes sense, then.” Flux took a long sip and exhaled a slow flare of cloud. Kurt watched her intently, his gaze lingering on her lips. “I fell in love with Abelia, and we were very happy. I appreciate the sight of an attractive female form, both aesthetically and with a hint of sexual intent. Just as you might.”

Kurt looked away quickly, half-unnerved that she had seen into his mind even though she stared at a distant point straight ahead.

“However, I feel the same way toward the male form. It is as natural to me as breathing, and it has always been so. I never bothered listening to anyone else’s ideas on the matter as I was growing up, especially if those ideas were from the same religions that condemned me as hellspawn or declared that Spinoza was anything but an intelligent, logical man.”

“I did read about Spinoza, as you suggested,” Kurt murmured. “I have not finished reading him, but...it scares me how much he makes sense and vhere I know he shall lead me.”

“It is not my intent to destroy your faith. You do not have to read him,” Flux murmured, her voice low and sincere.

“If my faith cannot stand up to one man’s words, I think it vould be foolish to cling to zhe futile,” Kurt sighed. “Even if I feel I loose an invisible father in favor of apathetic nature.”

Flux sighed. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Perhaps like you I vhill learn to like the cold.” Kurt moved to raise his mug to his lips, but Flux’s hand caught his wrist and squeezed. He looked into her green eyes and found them pained.

Flux shook her head at him slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “Not you. You can have warmth enough to last your whole life. Do not abandon that. I have simply lived too long, and been too exposed to the world’s coldness to keep mine. I have learned to like it, but it is like learning to like bitterness, and you should not be bitter.”

But I did not have to learn to like you, Kurt thought idly, but nodded to her all the same. She squeezed his arm again and nodded back once. They sipped their rum for a moment in silence. “You have not given up on life, though. You are still here, and you do not act mit evil intent. By vhat and for vhat do you live?”

Flux looked at her drink thoughtfully. “A mixture of small and selfish pleasures, including helping good people I meet and take a liking to; a few promises I have made to such people; a sense of honor; a thirst for knowledge; a wish to see what will happen next in the world, despite a sick feeling that things will get no better; and sheer, unadulterated stubbornness.” She shrugged a little. “Not much, but enough to keep my pseudo-conscience clear, and prevent me from trying to find a way past my own indestructibility and into that eternal silence known as death.”

“So it is your honor und stubbornness making you love zhe cold?” Kurt asked softly.

Flux laughed a little, and bitterly. “Yes, but it is also my callousness, and my instinct for self-preservation. I am not a masochist, and there are two things that are truly painful: frostbite after being warm and happy, and thawing out after being frozen. Heat has thusfar been impossible for me to maintain, and thus I have embraced the cold that is present at its start and at its end.”

“You mean love?” Kurt asked.

Flux’s smile faded, but she nodded.

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “Zhat sounds like masochism to me.”

Flux turned and stared at him, but he stared back firmly.

“I vill have to think about how to explain it to you, but it seems to me you have set yourself up very badly.” He finished his drink.

Flux stared at hers, not steaming as much as it had been. Her tail was swishing and she looked deep in thought. “I...have not had any other choice.”

“Perhaps you have not been looking for them,” Kurt offered.

At that, Flux’s brow furrowed.

“Ice distorts t’ings vhen you look zhrough it, like water or anyzhing else..”

“Perhaps so.”

“Which is stronger? Your thirst for knowledge or your need to avoid pain?” Kurt inquired with honest curiosity.

Flux laughed helplessly, setting her mug on the railing to keep from dropping it. “Oh Hell, Wagner, what a question. If only I actually scarred someplace other than my hands, you could see how often my sense of self-preservation has lost that battle.”

Kurt only smiled to himself.

The first hint of gray touched the horizon, telling them both that dawn would break in an hour or two. Kurt thanked Flux for the rum-and-cider, handing her his mug, and bid her good night and good morning in one breath before falling backwards over the railing and teleporting to his room.