A Soul Divided: Part One

by Kerri

The ache in her head roused her from the blackness that surrounded her. She winced, sorry to see it go. Without it the pain rushed in to fill the void. She could see a bright light through her eyelids. She brought one hand up to cover her eyes.

She'd been the Danger Room trying out a new program Logan had put together. It must have been a doozy. One slice with her sword and a bolt of energy shot out of the image, knocking her on her butt. She struck her head at some point, but couldn't remember how.

"Come now, don't be shy. I need to take a look at that bump on your head," Hank's voice cajoled her. She gave up and lowered her hand, opening her eyes.

"What happened to me?" She opened her eyes wider. He didn't look like the Hank she knew. While he was large, furry and blue like hers, this one sported an ugly, twisted scar down the side of his face, from his temple to his jaw. She drew back in alarm. "What's going on?" she asked faintly, sure she wasn't going to like the answer.

"It was your own fault," he said calmly, his large hands delicately probing her scalp, gently palpitating the injured area. "You got careless in the Danger Room. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

"Who didn't kill me?" she asked. "That hologram?"

He looked into her eyes. "Are you focusing on me? Do you know who I am?"

She wanted to tell him yes, she knew him, but this was a different Henry McCoy. Different good, different bad, she wasn't sure yet. "I think know you. At least, you seem familiar, but like you're out of step with my memories."

He nodded. "Concussion. I'll keep you here overnight for observation." He moved away to get a bottle from the cabinet. "It was a pretty hard smack, I'm not surprised you have no recollection of the incident." He smiled at her, his canines seemed larger than she remembered. "It'll all come back to you very soon."

"But what happened?" It couldn't be what *she* thought happened. And why did everything look out of place?

"You and Wolverine in the Danger Room. You know he can't control his anger. Why did you go in there? You're lucky Magneto was there to get you out." He dabbed on a bit of antiseptic on the broken skin of her scalp.

It stung. "Logan tried to kill me? Why?" This was all way too weird. Magneto?

Hank took another look in her eyes. "It'll all come back to you. I notified your husband, he'll be here shortly. Right now I want you to close your eyes and get some rest."

Husband? They weren't married yet, at least by Christian standards. "But he already knows," Charlotte said faintly. Logan tried to kill her? It didn't seem possible.

She leaned back on the bed, then took a double take on her body. 'My god, I've raided Emma's closet,' she thought, horrified. She was clad in a leather mini skirt, actually more of a wide belt that missed her belly button by at least 4 inches and barely covered her bottom, and a skin tight leather crop top that hardly covered her breasts. The only things that were adequately covered were her knees, by thigh high leather boots. Purple leather. She'd never been the purple leather type.

'I'm dreaming, I have to be. If I close my eyes I can wake up and start this day all over,' she told herself desperately. She closed her eyes so tightly her forehead ached.

She heard murmured voices in the outer room. She wasn't going to look, she couldn't take another shock. Her head pounded in double time, almost as fast as her heart.

Footsteps crossed the floor to her side, a hand smoothed the hair from her face. She gathered the courage to open her eyes.

She looked up into Remy's face; it was Remy, with a black eye patch, his auburn hair as long as hers, tied back at his nape, his expression tender. Her mouth fell open in shock.

He planted a hot kiss on her open mouth, cutting off any sound she might have made. Her eyes widened in dismay. She pushed him away. "What are you doing?!" she demanded. "Has the whole world gone crazy?"

She scrambled off the other side of the bed, putting space between the two of them. Her psionic power put up a shimmering wall against him. Thank the gods something was still the same.

"Chere, what are you doin'?" he asked her, obviously confused. "Henri, he tell me you're hurt. I come to take you upstairs to rest."

Hank entered behind him. "I believe I mentioned she was experiencing some disorientation, Gambit, and that she should stay here for the night."

"You mean *he's* my husband?" Charlotte nearly shouted at him. "But what about Rogue?"

The two men exchanged a concerned look. "Who's dat, chere?" Remy asked.

Charlotte took several deep breaths. "Rogue. You remember Rogue. You're in love with her."

"I only love you, you know dat," he answered.

The air began to pulse around her as her aggravation increased. "Don't say that!" She was in Hell, Hell with fluorescent lighting, that was the only explanation.

Hank reached over and hit the intercom. "We've have a situation in the Med Lab."

The team began to arrive. She knew these people, didn't she? They seemed familiar and so strange. She felt herself being backed into a corner. They were trapping her here.

All the faces turned to her, alarmed and not so friendly, most downright hostile, faces that were out of synch with her memories.

Jean was here, and Storm. And yet their faces were harder, sadder. Storm didn't have the her calm, serene air, and she carried herself with the thinnest veneer of the elegance that Charlotte knew. Jean seemed hunched within herself, though she stood tall next to... Magneto?...her hand on his arm.

Warren stood to one side, the accustomed yellow curls and air of privilege she was used to was not there at all, instead she saw a bitter man with close cropped hair, his wings seemed dingy, as though the feathers reflected his inner self. Where was the Angel she argued with over the Wall Street Journal?

Scott still wore his visor, but his brown hair was mixed with gray, his face scarred, tired.

Logan was the hardest to bear. He crouched in a corner, his face lined and scarred, his eyes feral and hate-filled, his hair long and unkempt. He hated her, she could see it in his face. If he could have killed her at that moment, he wouldn't hesitate.

"Charlotte, please, let us help you," Magneto's voice was still rich and smooth, but striking all the wrong notes in her head. He looked careworn and exhausted.

"All I want are some answers," she said evenly. The psionic field in front of her continued to pulse as a manifestation of her agitation and confusion.

"What do you want to know?" He asked.

"What the hell is going on?!" She shouted at him.

Magneto glanced down at Jean. She was concentrating on Charlotte, trying to find a way past her mental blocks.

"You were involved in a...misunderstanding in the Danger Room."

"Misunderstanding, huh?" Right. Misunderstandings don't create hallucinations. "I am still Charlotte Ashcroft?"

"Non, you're Charlotte LeBeau," Gambit broke in insistently.

She tensed up, the air around her grew murky.

Magneto shook his head at Gambit. "Yes, your name is Charlotte Ashcroft. You go by the codename of Blade. You are in my home outside of Salem Center in Westchester New York. You are part of a elite team of mutants."

Nothing sounded right. She was dead, that was it, dead and this was some joker's idea of an afterlife. The gods' little private joke for the century.

A 'bamf' sound behind her, followed by the smell of sulfur, made her realize her tactical error. Arms encircled her, drawing her attention away from the group by the door. Her shield dissolved.

Hank grabbed his hypo and rushed over to where Nightcrawler held her. He quickly injected a sedative into a vein. Almost immediately it began to take effect.

The room grew hazy. Nightcrawler's yellow eyes swam in front of her. "But, Kurt," she said weakly, "it's not supposed to be like this. Where's Xavier? Where's Charles Xavier?"

[next part]

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