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PART 2>>Scott?<< With a groan, Scott Summers rolls over, burrowing his head under the pillow. >>Scott, I know you're awake.<< Times like this, he wished he wasn't married to a telepath. Jean Gray. Fiery hair. Fiery eyes. And a regrettable tendency to wake up at the crack of dawn. He reads the concern in her thoughts that accompany the gentle sqeeze on his shoulder. One hand fumbles for the ruby quartz glasses he must wear to keep his optic blasts in check. He slips them on. His breath catches in his throat as he opens his eyes. The early morning light strikes Jean's hair in a brilliant halo of red and gold. His body stirs with desire as he pulls her down for a kiss. "We don't have time -- hmph?!" She finds herself responding, not only to the insistent kiss, but also to the arousing thoughts of Scott's passionate love for her. Like a moth to a flame, he draws her in. The gentle brushing of mind against mind is matched by the caress of skin across skin. Until Jean jerks away with a sudden gasp. "Jean?" "It's Gambit. I -- I've never sensed such panic in him. His thoughts were the ones that woke me." "Can you focus on him?" "I'm trying." Jean concentrates. In her mind, she feels a familiar tickles as Scott's thoughts join hers, helping her to calm the raw emotion she senses from the Cajun. Images. Thoughts. A jacket. The gnawing sense of loss which dissolves into uneasy relief. She feels Scott's hand tighten on hers as both minds catch the glimpse of a broken body. She hears the resignation in his voice has he acknowledges that, yet again, an X-man has been injured. "Rogue." "Henry may need help treating her." He nods, silently grim. Without a word, they change clothes. Remy moves Rogue's head higher on his lap, reaching over her to shift gears. The car responds smoothly. He grins. Rogue did a helluva job restoring this beauty. He wonders what bits of Shi'ar technology she might have snuck in when Professor Xavier wasn't looking. His grip on her waist tightens as he turns sharply onto the access road. "Almost home, p'tite." Rogue's blood seeps through his fingers, bringing his attention back to the seriousness of the situation. Had to do it, didn't you, Remy? Had to keep baitin' her jus' to see how far you could go. Kept workin' your jaw even after you knew you'd struck home. Even after you saw de hurt in her eyes. Lucky t'ing she only had de pticher a beer t'dump on you. Rogue moans softly. Was it worth it? >>...genejoke...<< Something stirs. Somewhere in the darkness of unconsciousness, Rogue's muddled thoughts struggle for light. Memories of another time, another place. Years ago. Genoshans. >>Don't pass out on us yet, sweetness.<< She remembers falling, slamming into the floor as her powers were stripped from her just as they had stripped her clothes. Numbing pain from the impact. Wasn't so bad. Not as bad as what they had planned for later. A Genoshan guard grabs her from behind, pinning her arms back. She gags on the scent of cheap aftershave and old sweat as another guard presses against her. She struggles, swallowing the bile that rises in her throat as her bare skin brushes his uniform. The rough stubble of his cheek rubs against hers. >>Oh yeah, mutie girl, I'm gonna enjoy you.<<
Continued in Chapter 3
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