X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 5: Trust your feelings?
I argued with Moira, while Jackie tried to learn everything
she could about Rogue's appearance, dress, language, and behavior.
"I just don't feel comfortable pumping stimulants into
your octogenarian body," she said.
"I understand that the stress could kill me," I
agreed, "well, the other me. But we absolutely *must* know what happened
to Rogue's mind. I'm telling you, none of her memories are still in here,
inside her head."
"I'll make you a deal," she said. "Volunteer
for the hypnotherapy under Charles. Let the two of us work on coming up with a
transition plan, and I'll rouse Dr. Trautwein. I still want two days – I think
he may come out of it on his own, but if you'll agree to the therapy, I'll wake
him in two days, no matter what happens."
"That's not fair," I pointed out. "The two
are hardly linked situations. On the one hand, you and Charles want to perform
psychological manipulation of the most disturbing kind, on the other hand, I
want vital information that may save a girl's soul. And I *know* the patient
would agree with my priorities, since I *am* the patient."
"They're linked," she insisted. "We both
have our own agendas for how to best help Rogue. I'll help you with yours, if
you'll help with mine."
I sighed in exasperation. "Do I have any choice?"
"Not really."
"How is Charles going to contact my mind? Apparently I'm
completely blocked to his telepathic probing."
"I have a theory," Moira began, "I think it's
all connected to the buzzing you feel in your head from holding your form.
That's also blocking Rogue's own power/memory drain. While you suffer from
that buzzing, it's safe for you to touch people and Charles can't read your
mind. But if the buzzing stops and your head clears, as it did at the party
the other night, you were able to absorb Kurt's powers as you touched him."
I nodded, excited. "Intriguing. That would mesh with
my own theory of the bio-control field. The buzzing sets up a static in my
bio-control field, preventing other bio-control efforts from moving in or out."
"If you say so. I'll be trying a mild sedative, while
Charles monitors."
"I'll need your complete and freely-given consent,"
Charles said from behind me.
I spun to see that Charles had moved in on us. "It's
hardly freely-given," I said. "I'm doing this under duress. This
seems to be the only way that I can get you to wake up old-me and question him
about what happened, and where Rogue is."
"Then I'm afraid that I won't be able to do much good.
I'll need your consent first, and you will have to agree to this on your own."
I reached out toward him in desperation. "Charles…there
has to be some way I can convince you! This girl's life is at stake here. Her
mind, perhaps her soul. I'm an old man, it doesn't matter if I survive this.
Can't you do something?"
He looked up at me from his wheelchair, looking more weary
than I had realized. "Gerard, you're asking me to condemn an innocent man
to death, perhaps, because of what he *might* have witnessed. You claim that
Rogue's thoughts and memories are completely missing, but her power has never
worked like that before. I could look to find out, but you won't let me. What
sort of action do you expect from me?"
I was stunned. "But…but…you want to manipulate me,
force me to move toward Rogue's shape…"
He nodded. "Currently, you're pushing Mystique's power
harder that she was ever able to push it. You may be doing permanent damage to
Rogue's mind or body. I want that to stop. You can't control the power. That
has to change. And finally, that body and the person in it is my student. I
will do whatever I feel is best for her, and right now the course I see as best
is to help the person who is now Rogue to accept who she is, master the
abilities she had suddenly acquired, and cope with the overwhelming memories
that have engulfed her. Memories that are tearing her apart."
"Damn it!" I yelled. "I'm more than just
memories! I am a real person in here!"
"Then prove it."
The way my heart was hammering, I was afraid that he was far
too close to the truth. What makes a person what they are? Is it memories, or
is it something more? "I –" *I'm too afraid of this. Please don't ask
me to do this!*
"I promise that if Dr. Trautwein, senior, has not
awakened in two days, we will attempt to use stimulants. Whatever you decide.
Dr. McTaggart feels he may awaken spontaneously before that."
"Charles, don't ask…"
"For the good of my student, I have to ask. Feel the
pain in your own head. This thing is tearing you apart. You *know* that. Let
me help."
"Charles, you've admitted that you're going to
influence me. You want to meddle in my mind! How can you ask me to trust you?"
"For Rogue's sake, Gerard, I am asking you to trust me."
I looked up and noticed that everyone else in the room was
now staring at us. As if I needed more pressure.
"We do it in private," I said, almost in a
whisper. "Right now, before I lose my nerve."
*****
Moira strapped me down to the bed. She had a drip-IV
solution ready, so that they could adjust my medication without requiring a
continual set of injections. A mirror was above the bed, letting me see
everyone around me, and to see my own reflection as well. Logan helped Charles
up to the bed beside me, then left the room and locked the door.
"Normally," Charles said, "I would touch your
head. It makes contact easier. But if we're right, once the telepathic
blockage stops, Rogue's own powers will become active and I won't be able to
touch you. Instead, I'll put myself into a light trance, so that I can fully
concentrate on contacting your mind."
It was all I could do to keep myself from bolting. If I was
wrong and Rogue's memories were buried in there, everything that was me might
be obliterated in the next few minutes. Rogue's problems would be gone and so
would I. Equally frightening was the thought of what he might see in her mind,
or in mine. I had never objected to Rogue's touch or her casual viewing of my
memories. But this would be a deep probing of my subconscious. What man wants
to expose that? What if Charles merely confirmed that I would have this
buzzing, this headache for the rest of my life? What if things went wrong in some
way that I wasn't anticipating?
Instead, I forced myself to lie there calmly, with a slight
trembling as the only sign of my fear.
Charles settled back on his bed, and seemed to drift into a
light sleep. Moira injected something into the IV bag.
The sedative calmed me. After a moment, I felt relief that
I'd finally gotten over my wussy fear and taken some action. In the mirror
above me, I watched Rogue's face replace my own. And then consciousness faded.
*****
I gradually came to, looking up in the mirror at Rogue's
face. I blinked, as my thoughts slowly returned to coherence. Was this a
dream? It seemed to me that it was real, almost. But I still felt calmed
somehow. Insulated in a dreamlike way from the harsher edges of reality.
Rogue's face was running through an interesting set of
emotions, above me. The young girl looked so sullen and defensive. But like
this, without the deliberate barrier of her pale makeup, she looked younger
than I was used to. Young, scared, and helpless. It was nearly impossible to
believe that it was *me* behind that face, making those expressions. I knew
it, but somehow the reality didn't penetrate. I knew it as part of a dream
reality. I didn't accept it as real. It's too big a jump to see someone else's
face in the mirror.
As I watched, the features shifted, becoming *me* almost,
before falling back into Rogue. This time, the 'me' was a teenage me. A face
I'd last worn before the war. It was a time that I had hated for more reasons
than just the problems of puberty. In some ways I supposed I'd manage to
ignore the worst of puberty, focusing on the problems and excitement of the
day. The lingering after-effects of the depression, the fear rising in Europe,
the wonders of radio. How much had changed? Both the wonders and threats had
changed, but perhaps the pattern remained. And how about me? Was I ready to
live through those turbulent times again, delving into the secrets of the new
technology, fully immersed in the problems of the day and riding the emotional
storm of adolescence?
The fear surged inside me. It wasn't my heart, rather it
was the entire area of my chest, everything inside my sternum – that whole
region. I could feel the tension climbing.
"Heart rate is really climbing now," Moira said,
from out of sight. "I'm increasing the drip." A hand reached into
view and adjusted the IV lines.
Why had I thought that? *I* wouldn't be going through
puberty – Rogue would. Why had I suddenly wondered about growing up again?
There was a worse terror in the back of my mind. Something about facing
puberty, *but not as a male*.
In the mirror above me, the face suddenly twisted and
distorted. Despite the work of the sedatives, in a moment I was looking at my
face again. A teenaged face, but *mine*. I knew the buzzing would start soon,
but I almost welcomed it.
"That was not the most pleasant experience,"
Charles said from the bed beside me. Even without the use of his legs, he was
levering himself into a sitting position. "Your mind…your mind is
different from any that I have ever experienced."
"What about Rogue's memories?" I asked hoarsely. "Were
they there? Was there any trace of them?"
"Not…No. There wasn't any trace of Rogue's memories.
Not exactly."
The pressure around my heart was quite powerful. "What
do you mean, 'not exactly'?"
"Well, there is a question of what makes up a person's
identity. Up until now, in all the minds I've looked at, the person had spent
their whole life growing up inside their own head. Your case isn't like that.
Due to the nature of Rogue's powers, she apparently absorbed every last one of
your memories. And her own memories are gone. Gone without a trace. They
aren't suppressed, or blocked, or captured in an alternate persona, or
temporarily amnesiac, or any of those. I am a telepath, and I have experienced
cases like those and stranger things as well. No, Rogue's memories are missing
as if they had never existed."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," I
said. "She's gone. We have to find her."
"Ah, well…" Charles rubbed his forehead. "That's
where we get a little more complicated. You see, Rogue *is* there. Nothing is
missing – except for her memories."
"But—but—that doesn't make any sense! What is a person
*except* for their memories? How much of Rogue can be in here? And if she's
here, why can't I find her?"
"Because," he said softly, "you would be
trying to see your own face. It can only be done by reflection, or through the
perceptions of another. In this case, me. Everything that makes Rogue what
she is: her hopes, beliefs, attitudes, her friends and enemies, her reactions
toward people, toward the world, her senses and feelings, her emotions, her
loyalties – everything that makes Rogue who she is…is still in there. The only
difference is that she's had an alien set of memories dropped on top of her.
Sometimes those memories insist that she must feel or act in some way. Perhaps
inside, Rogue agrees, or at least feels neutral. In which case, you are able
to function reasonably well."
"No…" I whispered, shaking my head in horror.
"In other cases, the girl Rogue feels one way, but the
memories insist on something opposite. In that case, we have a conflict. Not
a split personality or anything like that. It's just that Rogue's feelings and
Gerard's memories insist on totally opposite outcomes."
"Please," I whispered, "please stop. I don't
want to hear any more."
"As a case in point, let's look at her femininity.
Rogue is rather sensitive on this subject. She is touchy about her appearance,
particularly her hair. She feels that some other girls are more attractive
than she is, so she rebels against both people and expectations. But deep
down, she wants to look and feel pretty. She wants to find herself attractive,
and wants others to be attracted to her as well.
"What happens when the memories of Gerard Trautwein
force her to dress in ugly, unfashionable clothes? Horrid, masculine
underwear?"
"Oh, God, no."
"Amazingly enough, Rogue has been able to find ways to
reconcile her conflicts. Perhaps a more fashionable exterior, combined with
hidden undergarments that celebrate her female secrets. Remember, there is
nothing wrong with Rogue wearing feminine underclothes. She *is* a girl. A
very attractive girl, who is undergoing an identity crisis the likes of which I
have never before witnessed. She may *look* like a man on the outside, but
inside she is still Rogue, and she has the same desires and needs that any
teenaged girl has."
"You're lying!" I was screeching my denial,
desperately trying to pull my arms from the restraints.
I saw Moira's hand, twisting the IV drip line wide open.
"You may *remember* being Gerard Trautwein,"
Charles finished, his voice fading into darkness, "but you always *were*
and you always *will be* my student Rogue. Don't worry, child. We will help
you find yourself. However long it takes."
And then oblivion dragged me down.
*****
I woke once more. What was this, the third time today? The
fourth? This time I was resting on a couch in the mansion's lower floor.
Someone had thrown a blanket over me. I felt the now-familiar sensation of the
couch squirming under me as I returned to my proper male form. Sitting up
slightly, I saw Scott Summers sitting on a chair across from me, reading. As I
moved, he put down his book and turned to face me.
"Well what do *you* want?" I asked him, eager to
share my dismal mood.
He shook his head slightly. "Simply amazing. Hearing
you talk, watching you while you sleep –"
"I don't want to hear this right now," I warned
him.
He shrugged. "Your age seems to be stabilizing. The
last few times you've woken up, you haven't changed much. You look like you're
about sixteen now."
"Probably fifteen, I'd guess."
"You know, Professor X wants you to attend school with
us tomorrow. I think it's a good idea. Jackie Gavin will be attending as
Rogue, so that no one thinks anything odd has happened."
"And me?"
"We've made up a name and identity for you. You can
start tomorrow, alongside the rest of us. I think the professor has already
started the registration process."
"As a man or a woman?" I asked, bitterly.
"As a boy. A teenaged boy. Jerry Tratwick. You'll be
put into all the same classes that Rogue's in."
"Oh, wonderful! Not only do I get the joy of going
through puberty again, I get to do it alongside Mae West."
Scott shook his head. "Beg your pardon?"
I tried again. "You know, Matta Hari?" He still
looked confused, so I spelled it out for him. "I get to follow the fake
Rogue around like a puppy."
"Well, Kurt will be there too. He has pretty much the
same schedule. And I think you have a couple of classes with Quicksilver."
"Oh, this is going to be simply delightful."
"Hey, you'll do fine. You've got two friends with you
every step of the way, and the rest of us are just a shout away. You should
already know most of the subjects, and we've got a cover story all set for you."
I couldn't help giving him a grudging smile. "You're
pretty good at this, you know?"
"What, cheering you up?"
"Yeah, maybe." I dropped my head, hiding the
almost-smile I had. "I meant, being a leader. Cheering up the dispirited
troops, handling the details. That sort of thing."
He moved over to sit beside me. "It's what being a
family is all about. And you're part of it now. Part of our big strange
family here at the mansion."
The words were good to hear, but deep inside, I wanted
something more. Not just a family, but someone who could see me as a real
person. Scott seemed to ooze the sort of honesty and reliability that made me
willing to trust him. For a moment, I felt like I could trust him with my life
and more. I wanted to lean my head against him and tell him, but I would never
do that because –
My eyes opened wide as I jumped to my feet. I stared at
Scott in horror. As I ran off, I heard him ask, "What'd I say?"
*****
I slammed the door and leaned against it.
"Like, what happened to *you*?"
I'd blown it again, rushing in to Kitty's bedroom. I tried
to get my breathing back under control. Kitty was already dressed in a
nightgown, with a powder-blue robe thrown over it. I gave a quick "oops"
and covered my eyes, backing out through the door.
"Oh, come on back, Rogue," she said. "I can
handle it."
"Yeah, come on back, Sugah." That was Jackie,
calling in a somewhat overblown southern accent.
"Sugar?" I asked.
"Just practicing. I've got to be able to sound like a
southern gal tomorrow morning."
I finally noticed what was going on. Jackie was wearing the
skimpiest of satin undershirts, with a pair of matching satin shorts. "Hey,
you know you're about to fall out of that thing?"
"Lock the door and take a seat, 'Jerry.'"
I reminded myself that I had decided to call a truce with
Miss Balloons. "What are you looking for? And isn't that Rogue's
dresser?"
"Sure is, Sugar. What do you think I'm going to wear
tomorrow? Hey, what's the matter with you? Don't you have anything but green
or black? What a depressing wardrobe!"
I gave a sigh. This top-heavy bimbo seemed to think nothing
of waving her assets in a fellow's face. "Do you mind? There are men
present. It's not that I don't appreciate the boob show, it's just…" it
was just that it didn't really do much for me.
She turned toward me and deliberately jiggled. "What's
the matter, honey? Doesn't the sight of all this tender girl-flesh give you
just a bit of a rise?"
"Oh, puh-lease!" Kitty said, poking down her
throat with a finger.
"Look, *honey*," I told her. "You aren't
going to fit into anything Rogue's got until you let the pressure out of those
balloons. So why don't you just wander off to wherever it is that you're
camping until you finish your little size readjustment."
She pointed to the new roll-away bed on the side of the
room. "I'm your new roommate. Just the three of us girls in here."
I stared at Kitty. "Is she serious?"
Kitty shrugged. "Yeah, well…The professor said that
you, like, needed to keep up on what Jackie does each day." She looked at
me and gave a sympathetic smile. "It's okay. This is your room, too, you
know? I mean, I don't mind sharing with you. I don't mind if you don't."
"Thanks, Kitty. That means a lot to me."
More than I could say, in fact. I didn't dwell on the
implications that everyone in the mansion was now thinking of me as a woman –
despite the fact that I was obviously a man. My mind quickly veered away from
that topic. But despite my appearance, Kitty was willing to room with me. And
something about her and this room, the two things together, really did make me
feel better. They felt like home. In this room, with Kitty as my roommate, I
felt secure somehow, as if everything would work out. I felt almost…loved. It
was a feeling I didn't want to look at too closely, but as I snuggled down in
what I was coming to think of as 'my' bed, I had a tiny smile on my face, even
if I did have tears leaking out of my eyes. And I'd be damned before I'd let
anyone else see either.
Continued in Chapter 6, appearing NEXT Sunday!
since 02/23/03
