It's All In Your Head: Part Five
by sevenall
She was back in the tank. Greenish light filtered through the viscous fluid. An oxygen mask was fitted tightly over her nose and mouth, electrodes were attached to the back of her head. They twinged uncomfortably as she moved.
A voice she couldn't recognise was whispering to her, feeding her codewords and names that clicked into place in her mind. She tried to shut it out but her shields were down, her mind wide open and she couldn't stop anything diffusing in or out. She imagined she could feel her fontanelle break up.
She wept for herself, for being helpless while someone took her apart and put her together the way he wanted her to be. She wept because she had sworn to herself that no one would use her again. Ever. And because there was only one way to stop it. She ripped the mask off. Gelatinous fluid filled her nose, her mouth, made her gag. The taste of saline and sarsaparilla...
....and she woke, drenched in a cold sweat.Bile was rising in her throat, she fought it down. Warren stirred beside her in the dark, but did not wake. She wanted him to hold her, almost touched his shoulder, then chided herself for being so selfish.
<<Sleep><
He sighed, turned his back to her, slept on. When dawn came and the birds started chirping, the wings would get restless and he would wake. She could wait.
**There were interesting anomalies. A strange environment. Neural and immune responses were extremely adaptive, even regenerative. The entity was, however, losing patience. It would not spend its immortality fighting petty battles. There must be another way.**
The phone rang, its sound too loud for the morning quiet. Elizabeth hoped it would not be Brian, drunk and disorderly. There had been a time when she had dreaded those calls. "Pick me up at "The Mermaid", pay my bill in the bar, I ran over something, come help me find it, please sis, you're the only one...."She reached over Warrens immobile form and took it.
"Hello".
"'Allo, Stormy".
Remy's voice and he was drunk.
"This is Psylocke. You must have punched the wrong number. Ororo is in Washington. By the way, don't call her Stormy. She doesn't like it".
"Ah, but she does, cherie, she does".
"Where are you, Gambit?"
"Dis thug threw me out of de local nightclub. Didn' figure I'd ever be in a town with only one. Been wandering 'round 'til I found a phone booth".
"Is that the only reason you're calling?"
"No". The pain in Remy's voice cut through his alcohol fog. "Was looking for Rogue".
"Remy.."
"Was looking for her to say I was sorry. Dat's all".
"It's over, Remy. You have to let go".
"Don't have to do anyt'ing! You never loved anyone de way I love Rogue".
Elizabeth was surprised to discover that she found no anger at the accusation, only sympathy and sadness.
"That may be so. But what I said is still true".
There were a few minutes of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep or left the booth. Then he said:
"Not giving up on Rogue".
Click.
"This is an exercise primarily for those of the X-Men lacking in aviation skills", Hank announced proudly.
Elizabeth couldn't help rolling her eyes.
"Meaning what?" she said.
They were gathered in the control room of DangerRoom, everyone except Jean and the Professor, who had another telepathy session. Hank ignored her and pointed to a screen where small square platforms were shown floating randomly up and down.
"Think of it as a non-gravity environment. You simply step or leap, from square to square until you have crossed the room. I'll be firing missiles from here. Speed matters".
This exercise was all too familiar to Elizabeth. For a moment her eyes blurred and in Hank's place she saw a slim Japanese man, cold and graceful. And deadly.
"I'll monitor you, just in case", Hank said.
"Looks like a computergame for kids", Scott muttered, peering down into Danger Room as the squares started moving upwards."What if I fall off?"
"Trust that your winged team-mate will save you or your butt goes black and blue", Hank replied cheerily. "Now jump out, Scott. The program is running".
Scott, still muttering, stepped out on the first square that levelled with the control room. He disappeared out of sight. Two seconds later they heard a squeak.
"Oh dear", Hank said. "Who's next? Go on, Betsy, don't waste any time here".
"Can you handle it?" Warren asked her quietly.
She wasn't sure, but she nodded anyway and got on the next square. Warren was one step behind her, Bishop was last, looking vaguely disgusted as if this game was too much play and too little guns for his liking.
"I'll give you some time to get used to it. Then I'll bring on the missiles and maybe some drones, if you're doing well".
Leaping from square to square was easier than it looked, Elizabeth decided. Besides, she was something of a pro. Scott, on the other hand, kept falling off, forcing Warren to swoop down and save him, which was bad for both their scores. Elizabeth had gotten through two runs before Scott had finished his first. Bishop was also doing well. For a man his size, he was amazingly agile. Hank eventually gave up on Scott and told him to get up in the observation booth, from where he could call out instructions and blast the robots and missiles to pieces.
Elizabeth squinted, measuring the distance to a slowly approaching square. Scott was watching her back, all she had to do was to pick her way through the room and avoid anything coming at her from the front. She shifted her feet on the square, preparing herself for a mighty leap.
**The entity found the way.**
Pain hit her, white and blinding, and she fell to her knees, then sprawled over the square, purple hair spilling over its edges. She was completely oblivious to the missiles that happily homed in on her bio-signature.