Chapter Fifty Six: Blue Side

Amara, seated on an overstuffed sofa upholstered in blue-and-white stripes, replied breezily, “If the mission involved spending most of our time here, then I think we’ll be fine.” She stretched her tanned arms over her head to emphasize her point. Like her team mates, the blonde Nova Roma native was eager to leave the bitter cold that continued to envelope Westchester. She liked the fact that she could trade in her bulky sweater and wool trousers for the faded, denim shorts and a mango, tank top she was now wearing.

The lavish quality of their accommodations did not hurt, either. The Golden Palace was one of the higher quality hotels in Hightown, sitting amid fifteen acres of luxuriant botanical gardens and nearby shopping and entertainment centres. The colonial-style hotel gardens boasted more than 133,000 individual plants, flowers and trees, which included ornamental flowering trees, aquatic plants, vibrant tropical flowers and shady fruit trees. There were also ponds and tumbling waterfalls which hosted Japanese koi, luminous in hues of red and gold. The interior reflected the tranquil elegance of the country’s seaside with an artful combination of chic and rustic elements. The maritime palate was evident through each room, reflected in the sophisticated use of blue, white, and cream with touches of gold.

Roberto, who was sitting at the other end of the couch, snorted as he scanned through the front page of the Financial Times. “You wish,” he commented, giving her a wry look before continuing to read about the projection of soy futures. “I doubt Scott would have sent us here to check out the status of the Louis Vuitton store. Well, unless it was a front for some sort of mob operation.”

“Totally plausible given what they charge for a tiny bag,” Dani remarked from the other side of the room, where she was pouring herself a glass of water from the elegant mahogany bar. Unlike her good friend and team mate, Dani was unimpressed with the designer pieces and the accompanying outrageous prices.

Amara pouted but softened when she noticed the teasing twinkle in her friend’s eyes. Being away from the mansion and her friends for several years, she had forgotten about the affectionate teasing and inside jokes they used to share as teenagers. She exchanged a dry, knowing smile with Dani.

“Well, it just seems like ages since we’ve been together like this,” she said, tucking a lock of golden hair behind a well-sculpted ear. Her eyes suddenly became slightly misty when memories of their time together at the mansion flooded her. She had not realized how much she had deeply missed them during her time in Nova Roma as she tried to rediscover her own history.

Dani took a sip of her water. “Who knew it would take a mission to secure a mini-reunion for the New Mutants?” she wondered aloud, amber eyes thoughtful.

Roberto flicked a piece of fuzz from his chinos. He nodded, empathizing with her need to reconnect. Like his friend, he, too, had left Westchester to discover life outside of Xavier’s. Although he felt enriched after his experiencing the “real world”, Roberto felt a deep connection with his fellow New Mutants. Their shared journeys to control their abilities and the adventures they embarked upon were things not likely to be forgotten. It was a bond that was just as strong as the one he shared with his own family.

Unfortunately, the group’s overseas excursion would not allow them any time to spend time reflecting on their renewed ties or to even indulge in any tourist activities in the capital city. Based on the briefing Scott and Logan provided, the situation was rather serious. Over the past several months, there were reports of political unrest against the current regime led by Tyger Tiger. A known crime lord, the former banking executive seized control as sole ruler, promising not to follow in the steps of her predecessors who allowed themselves to be puppets for various interests. Although her firm stance against drugs and slavery was a welcomed change, the country retained its reputation as a safe haven for wanted criminals, and corruption, prostitution and smuggling enterprises still flourished.

Disturbing as these activities were, Tyger’s leadership had been tolerated due to Logan’s involvement. Not one to act as a diplomatic envoy on behalf of the X-Men, the loner’s background made him the perfect candidate for the job. A former resident of the small, island nation, he was cognizant of the politics and culture that tied the country to its outlaw past. His prior working relationship with Tyger also helped him to exert some influence, ensuring that she did not stray too much from ethical behaviour. Not only did the arrangement allow for inside knowledge of the regime but also some semblance of stability in Madripoor’s government after years of chaos and upheaval.

Recently, Tyger’s willingness to listen to his counsel was waning. When news surfaced of increasing lawlessness in the impoverished part of the city, she avoided all of Logan and the X-Men's attempts at communication. This self-imposed isolation served to further exacerbate the country’s difficulties, including long-standing tensions between the wealthy and powerful residents of Hightown and their impoverished counterparts in Lowtown. Efforts to call attention to the plight of the marginalized citizens were conducted through initially peaceful means. However, the protests quickly turned hostile as soon as the military police were dispatched to address the situation. Clashes between demonstrators and the police became increasingly violent as the latter expressed no hesitation to use force to impose the will of the regime.

What finally prompted Scott and Logan to become involved was the fact that Tyger was nowhere to be seen. Normally, she would be eager to capitalize on any opportunity to portray herself as being in control. Yet, as the conflict continued, there were no media interviews or press conferences. Statements purportedly issued by her were relayed by a variety of administrators within her cabinet. Attempts by Jean and Emma to reach her telepathically had failed, which further raised suspicion that something was amiss. With the Professor and Hank in Washington, DC as a part of a public relations campaign against another proposed registration bill, Scott decided that it was time to investigate. If something indeed had happened to Tyger, the repercussions associated with that could have implications for such a bill. Madripoor’s international reputation was already dubious due to its criminal leanings. However, once the possibility of civil war and the resulting fallout in a nation composed primarily of mutants, it was not hard to see the appeal of such a piece of legislation.

Rogue decided to base their operations in the more developed section part of the capital. It would be easier to conduct their investigations and relay their communications back to the mansion. Most of the government’s attention had been focused on Lowtown, where the majority of demonstrations were taking place. As a result, there was a heavy police presence as they searched for instigators to arrest and detain. Their location also allowed them to be close to Tyger’s presidential palace, presenting opportunities to conduct reconnaissance if needed.

The team agreed that because of the uncertainty of the situation, an estimated time of completion of the mission was out of the question. In other words, everyone was prepared for a possibly lengthy sabbatical from Westchester. While this piece of information might have caused some initial distress, the group accepted the news as they did the other nuances of the assignment. It was quite fortuitous that the team was composed of new members, who had long-standing histories with one another. Due to the sudden departures of Neal and Bishop, Rogue was pressed to recruit Dani, Amara, and Shan to join her existing squad. The recent addition of Roberto, who was currently on leave as CEO of Da Costa Enterprises, provided the use of his existing business contacts with connections with the government. As for Logan, he was still in Westchester but was planning to join them by the end of the week.

Following their arrival, Shan attempted a telepathic scan for Tyger, using the portable Cerebro link. She had been hoping that closer proximity would facilitate the search. Unfortunately, her efforts turned up nothing. It was as if Tyger had completely vanished. Gambit then brought up the possibility of the dictator’s death. He reasoned that the regime could be putting up the pretence that she was still alive in order to appear stable. Rogue reminded him that Jean and Emma would have been able to determine this back in Westchester. Both telepaths stressed that their readings were inconclusive. As Jean later explained, they were able to detect life but any other activity was absent. Dani confirmed this, stressing she did not sense any signs of impending death.

Meanwhile, Roberto had reached out to his contacts in Hightown. Most wanted to discuss future investments and blithely avoided his inquiries about the present domestic crisis. According to these individuals, their concerns lay with the continued modernization and prosperity of Hightown, not with those who were struggling. That, one businessman informed him, was the task of the government. When Roberto queried about the whereabouts of Tyger, he was provided with speculative replies which involved her being too preoccupied to be making public appearances or entertain outsiders.

He had been prepared to admit defeat when he received a call on his private mobile from someone claiming to have knowledge about the current events in Madripoor. Roberto was sceptical about the validity of the call given the distortion of the voice on the other end and the use of a blocked number. Before he was able to connect his cell phone to the audio equipment Shan was assembling in her room, the caller instructed him to go to The Princess Bar in Lowtown the following evening for specific details. When Roberto demanded the identity of the person, the voice reassured him that he would be meeting with “an old friend of Patch”. With that, the dial tone signalled the end of the conversation.

Immediately, Roberto relayed the exchange to Rogue and the others. Because the caller invoked Logan’s alias during his time in Madripoor, it was surmised that whoever it was well acquainted with the loner. With the exception of Shan, no one really knew much about his life here. Rarely did he talk about the subject unless it was relevant to a field assignment. After deliberating over the possibilities, the team decided that Roberto should meet the mysterious stranger while Rogue and Gambit monitored the situation from a nearby location. Initially, he expressed his reservations, citing that the individual had access to his unlisted number. His wariness soon turned to embarrassment when Rogue pointedly asked Amara and Dani to accompany him for “protection”.

As the team members continued to orienting themselves to their new surroundings and time zone, they found themselves experiencing the news of the meeting differently. For the two former New Mutants, this represented their first field assignment in quite some time. Their current roles as teachers and advisors at the school limited their involvement outside of the mansion. Both were eager to see some action. Meanwhile, Roberto was racking his brain as to who the caller was. For a brief moment, he suspected a former girlfriend or perhaps four, seeking him out for revenge. He shuddered.

Amara observed the apprehension that marred his features. Gently, she patted his shoulder. “Ave, Bobby,” she said, blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. “Don’t worry.”

“Yes,” Dani agreed, taking a seat on the other side of him. “We won’t let anything happen to your pretty, little head.”

Amara clapped her hands together and laughed. “I’ve never been someone’s bodyguard before. This should be so much fun!”

Roberto scowled as his friends collapsed into a fit of giggles. “Hilarious,” he groused. Then he flashed a dirty look at Rogue, who was grinning. “I hold you responsible for this!”

“Bonjour, mes amis,” Gambit drawled, ambling into the room from the adjoining suite he was sharing with Rogue. Freshly showered and clad in only a white hotel towel, the tall, lean Cajun thief found it difficult to hide his amusement when the collective attention of the women in the room fell upon him. Although he was now in a committed relationship with Rogue, he did not see the harm in some harmless flirting every now and then. It was good for his ego.

Prior to Gambit’s exhibitionistic entrance, Roberto contemplated helping himself to one of the pineapple tarts sitting in front of him on the coffee table. His stomach was yearning for some form of acceptable sustenance given the limited options on the X-Jet. However, his appetite seemed to disappear as soon as the half-naked Cajun walked past him.

Rolling his eyes, he said, “Dude, I wish I didn’t have to say this…but could you please put on some pants?”

Gambit smirked when he noticed Amara and Dani glaring hotly at the swarthy Brazilian. His expression soon changed when he Rogue’s reaction. Her mauve-painted lips were pursed as she gathered her hair into a ponytail. White tendrils framed her face, which seemed to accentuate her increasingly narrowing emerald eyes. When the Southern Belle’s cheeks began to stain pink, Gambit realized that it would be best for him to retreat to their room and throw on some clothing.

It was Roberto’s turn to be smug. His onyx eyes sparkled with amusement as his appetite made a sudden and welcomed return. Reaching for one of the pastries, he noted, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gambit move that fast.”

Rogue did not respond to the Brazilian’s comment. Her attention was focused elsewhere—namely, the French doors that led to the suite’s balcony. Stuffing her gloved hands into the pockets of her black, fitted workout pants with yellow stripes down the seams she had paired with a matching tank top, she made her way outside. While the panoramic view of the gardens and the outlying waters that surrounded the island-nation may have left most people reeling in amazement and wonder, Rogue was focused. Her green eyes surveyed the spacious balcony, searching past the blue-and-white flared vases that encased the exotic plants, the wicker chairs with plush, navy pinstriped cushions, and the bronzed, bamboo side tables.

Her gaze drifted onto a familiar figure leaning against the railing. His straw-coloured hair was rumpled by a slight breeze as he faced the direction of the ocean. He was casually dressed in a blue chambray shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, leaving his feet bare. With his shoulders slightly hunched and his head ducked low, it appeared that the young man was sombre in spite of the brilliance of the shining sun against the blue sky. It was quite a contrasting picture.

Rogue walked towards where Sam Guthrie stood. “You OK?” she asked.

He turned to face her, revealing a slightly sheepish expression. “Hey,” he greeted.

“For a moment, Ah thought we’d left you on the plane,” she chided lightly, standing next to him.

“Ah was just helpin’ Shan with unpackin’ the rest of the communication equipment,” he replied, sheepishly. The two of them had gone to her room after the team made their decision to go to Lowtown in the evening. “Ah thought Ah’d stop here to take in the scenery before we get down ta business.”

“How’s she doin’?” Rogue asked, concerned. It was no secret that Madripoor held bad memories for Shan and her family. While she had agreed to join the mission, there was some hesitation in doing so. The years of psychological abuse at the hands of her uncle and her desperate search for her younger siblings during her time on the island continued to resonate with her. The fact that she was spent most of the morning in her room was evidence of that.

Sam’s blue eyes were thoughtful. “Ah think she’s just tuckered out from the trip.” The Southern gentleman had noticed his friend’s anxious response as the X-Jet approached the private landing pad in Hightown. Honouring her need for privacy, he took it upon himself to quietly reassure her that things were different and that she had the support of everyone on the team. He had listened as she processed her anxieties about her return to Madripoor, remaining by her side until she fell asleep.

Rogue smiled up at him, fully aware of what he had done. As they were leaving the X-Jet, she had seen Sam pull Shan aside. Even though she was unable to hear the content of the conversation, she could tell he was genuinely concerned about his friend and determined to do whatever he could to help. The fact that he attempted to downplay his actions only served to emphasize the altruistic nature of his intent.

“You’re a good guy, Sam,” she told him, meaning every word.

The tall, lean young man from Kentucky dropped his gaze to the gardens below, shaking his head. “Not me,” he said in a low voice. “Ah ain’t like that.”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. Not exactly the type of response she had expected upon doling out a compliment. But then again, this was Sam, the young man who often turned beet-red whenever he was singled out during team meetings for his quick thinking and leadership abilities.

Finally, she said gently, “C’mon, ya don’t have ta be modest...”

“That ain’t it.”

“Then what do ya mean?”

Sam swallowed hard, wishing he could retract his part in this conversation. However, it was difficult not to bristle in response to Rogue’s praise. As soon as she said it, he cringed inwardly. Her assertion that he was this “good guy” was antithetical to the truth. It was so far removed from what his reality. Had she known his actual motivations for being here, she would surely change her mind. She would come to perceive him with the same contempt and disgust he had for himself.

Well, at least as far as he was concerned.

As he boarded the X-Jet for this latest assignment, the Southern gentleman had been hoping to leave his pain behind in Westchester. Sam wanted to believe that the distance placed between him and his troubles would be enough. For a brief moment, he thought he had achieved some sort of respite for his weary mind. However, as the hours passed during the journey to Madripoor, he was coming to the realization that he failed. Much to his dismay, the anguish that permeated his very existence did not dissipate. Tried as he did to clear his mind of the events that led to his departure from the mansion, Sam found himself drowning in those memories.

He was permanently residing in his own personal hell.

Reflecting on his current situation, he supposed it was rather naïve of him to assume that he could brush aside his heartache so easily. His inability to forget and move forward was a testament to his feelings. For him, this was no passing infatuation. No, the Southern gentleman was fully aware that this situation was much more complicated than that. What was happening was serious, affecting him to the very core of his being.

I love her.

It was a simple confession; one that he often whispered to himself. The words, albeit basic, conveyed a truth that made his heart race wildly, his skin burn with fevered desire, and his stomach turn in anxious knots. Sam found himself both euphoric and overcome with sadness each time he mulled over his secret admission. These feelings were often compounded by shame and disgust, elicited by the reality of his predicament. He was a damned fool for wanting someone who was unavailable. Unfortunately, the more he admonished himself for the situation, the more intense his yearning.

There was a time when Sam thought he could continue allowing himself to be near Jubilee without revealing his intentions. The experience proved to be excruciating. Every time he was around her, he could feel his chest caving into the pain that consumed his heart. His mind replayed instances when he nearly lost his composure—dancing together last year on Valentine’s Day, sharing the hotel bed in New York, treating her injuries following a Danger Room session. What held him back was the knowledge that her feelings for him were devoid of any romantic notions.

But the kiss had changed all of that.

The Southern gentleman was conflicted about the embrace that continued to resonate with him. On one hand, he was thrilled to share that kiss with her. He could still taste her mouth, feel her body melding against his, and lose himself in the sensation of her fingers stroking his hair. It was a kiss that surpassed the many he imagined in various reveries and dreams. What made it even better was that it was no longer part of act—she was responding to him. For the Southern gentleman, all of his hopes and dreams were encapsulated in that kiss. She was his.

On the other hand, Sam was upset that the gesture had caused her so much turmoil, changing the dynamics of their relationship. Their awkward dinner out, the day he ran into her in the woods, and their goodbye in the garage reflected the tension that now existed between them. Gone were the easy smiles and carefree banter that was punctuated with gentle teasing. Instead, there were nervous exchanges which were driven by the need to avoid or flee.

For that, Sam blamed himself. He hated that she was consumed with guilt in the aftermath. He hated that he caused her to feel that way.

Most of all, he hated himself for desperately wanting more.

That’s why I had to leave, he told himself, his mouth forming a grim line. I wanted to spare you the confusion because you deserve better than that. Better than me.

His mind replayed the morning he saw her last. It was the day he was preparing to leave for Madripoor. Her lovely face was drawn with worry as they carried on their awkward interaction. It killed him to see her like that. As much as he wanted to be with her, it was at that point that Sam knew he needed to give her back her peace of mind. He cared about her that much.

Yet, there was a split second when the Southern gentleman thought Jubilee wanted him to stay. He could hear it in her voice as she entreated him. Those old-soul blue eyes peered up at him, hypnotic as they bore into him. She had realized his pain. Briefly, he reconsidered his decision. He thought about pulling her out of that car and into his arms. He thought about kissing that achingly sweet mouth of hers. He thought about making declarations he had only made in the darkness of night when no one else could hear.

But then Sam remembered she was not his. Not now. Not ever.

So he let her go.

“Sam? Sam?”

Startled, he found himself back in Madripoor, standing on the hotel balcony with Rogue. He shifted uncomfortably when he found her staring at him. Her green-eyed gaze reflected both concern and confusion.

Sam raked a calloused hand through his straw-coloured hair. “Sorry,” he said ruefully. “Guess Ah just spaced out there.”

“That’s one way of puttin’ it,” Rogue mused, brushing a strand of white hair from her eyes. She studied the tall, lean young man beside her. Although she was no telepath, it did not require psychic abilities to discern that Sam Guthrie’s mind was preoccupied. Even before they left Westchester, she saw that there was something amiss with the Southern gentleman. He was subdued, rarely speaking unless directly approached. Smiles that used to appear quite frequently were a rare sighting these days. In short, he was a shadow of his former laid-back self.

There were other signs confirming her suspicions. While the others expressed some ambivalence about being away from the mansion for a long period of time, Sam remained silent on the matter. He seemed relieved to have a reason to be away. In fact, he was the first one to board the X-Jet, arriving ninety minutes before take-off.

It was as if being in Westchester was the worst possible option for him.

But why would that be the case? What could possibly be so horrible that he would readily accept being away for an undetermined amount of time? Rogue found herself entertaining these questions as she guided the craft to their destination. As the team leader, she felt some responsibility to determine the mental well-being of the Southern gentleman, ensuring that it did not interfere with the mission. Given the ambiguities and complexities involved, she needed him to be mentally sharp.

However, it was her role as his friend that compelled her to investigate what was troubling him. She had grown close to him while they were in California. Rogue admired his sense of responsibility and ties to his friends and family, dedication, adherence to values, and loyalty. His salt-of-the-earth was refreshing, especially in this day and age where self-publicity and fame dominated popular society. But most of all, there was a genuine kindness and warmth that radiated from him.

To see someone as good and decent as him in pain was something that troubled Rogue deeply. This ultimately factored into her decision to ask, “Why are ya really here, Sam?”

The former coal miner swallowed hard. “What do ya mean?”

She shook her head at him. “Don’t pretend with me. Ah thought we were better than that.”

“Ah…” Sam stopped himself from dispensing with another excuse, another lie. He could not bring himself to continue with this dance. The deception was exhausting. It filled him with even more self-loathing, particularly because he was attempting to mislead someone he considered a good friend.

Finally, he said in a low voice, “Ah just needed ta get away.”

“Why’s that?” Her green eyes studied the glum expression he wore with concern. He looked so forlorn and lost, as if he processing some tragic loss.

The Southern gentleman exhaled deeply, rubbing his hand over his stubble-ridden face. He knew he had to be cautious here. As close as he had grown to Rogue in the recent months, Sam was also aware of her loyalty to Bobby. The two of them shared a friendship that stretched back several years. Given this, Sam doubted that fully disclosing his feelings about her friend’s significant other would be well-received.

He chose his words carefully. “Ah’ve been havin’ a rough time,” Sam admitted, feeling rather awkward as he heard his voice cracking slightly.

“Is there anythin’ Ah can do? Any of us can do?” Rogue inquired. She contemplated asking Remy and Roberto to take the Southern gentleman out on the town. Quickly, she thought better of it when she realized that the Cajun would probably corrupt the two with some form of debauchery, and worst of all, earning her ire. Images of the three waving money at a cockfight while smoking cigars with haggard-looking women on their arms immediately flashed through her mind.

Shaking his head, Sam replied, “No, it’s somethin’ Ah gotta handle on my own.”

“Do ya wanna talk about it?” she asked, her voice hopeful. Surely, there must be something she could do or say to assuage his fears.

The Southern gentleman shook his head again. “Ah’d rather not… It’s somethin’ Ah’d like ta keep private.” Then he fixed his eyes towards the ocean waters that surrounded the island. “Don’t worry about me. Ah’ll be okay. Maybe bein’ here will help.”

Rogue sighed, recognizing that Sam was not going to disclose beyond what he had already. Even though the source of his angst continued to weigh heavily on his mind, he was determined to keep the secret. No amount of coaxing on her part would pry it from him. For now, she would have to take him at his word.

She clasped her hands together, leaning against the railing and following his gaze. “Runnin’ doesn’t always solve your problems,” she mused in an attempt to provide some sisterly advice. “Trust me. Ah know.”

His pale eyes glanced at her pensive face. He was aware of Rogue’s history of extended sojourns away from the mansion. Her ability, which she viewed as both an asset and a burden, often evoked feelings of isolation from others. Although she had gained more control of her powers, she was still fearful of the destruction she was capable of and the resulting damage on her own psyche. When they were in California, Rogue often talked about the need to leave in an attempt to start over. However, she was quick to acknowledge to him the futility of such thinking. After all, her troubles were tied to her skin, making escape rather difficult.

Sam knew she had a point. Despite the differences in their circumstances, he was able to appreciate the parallels. There was the same sense of fear that permeated their need to protect the ones they cared about. The threat of the harm they could inflict on these individuals ultimately factored in their respective decisions to leave.

However, unlike Rogue, the Southern gentleman was not able to reconcile the barriers to his predicament. To seek a resolution with Jubilee was completely out of the question. He could not bear the idea of placing her in a more uncomfortable position than the one she was already in. In the end, Sam was determined to do what was right, no matter the consequences to his sanity.

“No, but Ah gotta try somethin’,” he finally said.

The remainder of the day was spent reading through recent press releases, psychological reports on Tyger and members of her inner circle, previous field mission statements, and briefs on opposition groups. There were also various photographs, archived footage of Tyger, and recent video uploads of the protests. In addition to these materials, Roberto and Amara were studying maps of Lowtown in anticipation of tomorrow night’s meeting.

In the early evening hours, Rogue decided to adjourn for dinner. Gambit seized on the opportunity to take a cigarette break on the terrace. Amara and Roberto were in the sitting room with Rogue, mulling over their meal options. The former New Mutants were eager to venture outside of the hotel while the team leader was concerned about ensuring they had enough time to cover everything.

At the other end of the sitting room were Sam, Dani, and Shan. The three were adjusting the portable Cerebro device, which had recently been upgraded by Hank and Kitty. In addition to pinpointing the mental activity of mutants, this version also provided information about baseline humans and enhanced the user’s existing telepathic abilities. Determined to locate Tyger or any psychic data pertaining to her whereabouts, Shan was convinced that it was a matter of finding the correct settings. Thanks to intensive training provided by Jean and Emma, she was reasonably proficient in using the device. However, after several attempts, it was becoming clear that they were nowhere closer in their search.

Seated behind the white, Versailles-style desk with ormolu trim and brass ferrules, the young telepath shook her head and sighed. She removed the interface helmet, revealing short, side-swept ebony locks. “I don’t understand,” she said, placing the helmet on the desk. “I can see everyone—from the protestors to the bureaucrats. But when I try to focus on her, there’s some sort of block that I can’t overcome.”

“Static?” Dani inquired as she fiddled with the black, beaded bracelet she wore with a lace tunic, white tank top, grey, slouchy military pants, and Minnetonka fringe booties. She considered altering the connection between the portable link and the parental unit back at Westchester.

Her former roommate shook her head again. “No… It’s like a wall.” She closed her eyes, searching for the memories of the previous session in order to describe.

“What do you mean?”

“Something is there but I can’t access the trace.”

The young Cheyenne gave her a sympathetic look. “Maybe you need a break,” she suggested gently. “You’ve been at it for a while. Let me and Sam check out the console again.”

“I guess.” Reluctantly, Shan rose from her the overstuffed armchair with nail head borders, fluted legs and gold leaf accents, and allowed Dani to take her place. She rubbed her temples gingerly as she walked over to the other side of the desk. “I just can’t believe that she’s untraceable.”

Sam, who was standing next to the French doors that led to the balcony, looked grim. “What about shieldin’ technology?” he asked, unsure if this option had been entertained during the briefings. There had been so much information covered within the last few days. It was making his head spin trying to remember it all.

Dani shook her head, braids bobbing back and forth. “Logan’s contacts would have said something about that,” she replied, examining a lever on the console. “Besides, there’s only one person who has access to that kind of stuff and he doesn’t share, especially with non-mutants.”

The Southern gentleman nodded in agreement, recognizing the reference to the Professor’s old friend and nemesis. Like Dani, he remembered Erik Lensherr’s brief tenure as headmaster. Despite his insistence that he had reformed, his wariness of the human race remained. There were often lectures about man’s destructive tendencies through prejudice and violence. Such vitriolic talks made the students, notably Sam, wonder if their new mentor was just as depraved as those he railed against.

“If three telepaths can’t track her, makes ya wondah what’s really goin’ on then,” he mused, retrieving a small calibrator to hand to Dani. His pale eyes glanced over at the news program Rogue, Roberto, and Amara were watching. Images of Madripoor’s Lowtown residents marching down the streets, carrying banners decrying Tyger’s regime, and shouting angrily were intermixed with scenes of soldiers beating young men and dragging them into large vans. The reporter then commented how the country’s head of state continued to keep a low profile in the midst of the conflict.

Shan leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. She followed her friend’s gaze. It seemed like yesterday when such occurrences were woven into her everyday existence. When she and her siblings left Vietnam, she hoped that no one would have to experience what they did. Unfortunately, as she watched the coverage, she realized that no amount of wishing could counteract others’ need to subjugate their fellow citizens.

“Whatever it is, I can’t imagine it’s good,” she remarked, cringing when the camera showed a close-up of an effigy of Tyger being burned.

Sam nodded in agreement. “If this is how things are when she might be in power, Ah haveta think that the alternative would be much worse.”

“It’s probably only a matter of time until the protesters get into Hightown,” Dani added, resetting the calibrator. Then she sat back in the chair and peered up at her friends ruefully. “How depressing are we? We haven’t even been here a whole day and we’re basically talking disaster already.”

Sam shrugged. “Thinkin’ about the worst case scenarios helps ya be prepared, Ah guess.”

“Maybe we steer the discussion towards something lighter over dinner then.”

“Sounds good ta me.”

Sam was about to ask Roberto if dinner plans had been sorted when Shan suddenly screamed, blood dripping from her nose. Her hands flew to her head as she dropped to her knees. Immediately, Sam and Dani were by her side, kneeling. The Southern gentleman circled his arms around his friend, who collapsed against him as the other team members raced over to them.

“Shan?” Dani cried, placing two fingers under her friend’s chin and tilting her head so that their eyes met. Concern mingled with fear as she struggled to ascertain what was happening. “Shan? Are you okay?”

Tears began sliding down her cheeks. Her amber eyes caught sight of the worried faces of her team mates who circled her. They were quickly replaced by other images—ones that filled her with deep apprehension and sadness.

After what seemed like eons, she finally answered her friend. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered, sobbing.