A soft wind blows from the north, bringing with it the smell of pine and the weather goddess Ororo, onto the landing, gently. The woman glides into the house, arms raising above her in a leisurely stretch, and the storm doors shut behind her. As usual on these midnight flights, her next stop is inevitably the kitchen.

There has been the air of recovery about the mansion recently, which is not unusual, and it has pushed Ororo out into the cold night air, in the way of her old habits. And it makes her hungry.

She notices first the half-made sandwich on the counter.

Then the slouched figure on the floor against the far wall. And then the stained knife a few feet away from the figure. And then that Blue is cradling her hand, something dark crying out around it, spilling onto the floor.

She gasps.

Blue shakes her head. "I stopped, I stopped, I didn't do it."

Ororo comes to kneel in front of her. "Child, what have you done?"

"I didn't."

"You have reopened the wound on your hand."

Something dark passes over the girl's face. "New wound."

"Come with me, Blue. Henry will tend to you."

"I'm fine."

"You are bleeding. Come. You are not yourself."

And then she is back, blown back, shoved back, by enraged-- Blue is on her and then past her, reaching for the knife. Blue growls impossibly low, "you don't know what i am."

A controlled burst of wind sends the blade beyond the child's reach, and Ororo makes a grab for Blue's ankle. Blue kicks and wheels back on her-- a noise suddenly rocks the space between them, a great cry. She is savage and bleeding and roaring.

Ororo rolls with Blue's lunge and manages to deflect her strikes-- except one, two, across her arm. She curses. Any gust of wind which could contain Blue at this fury would cause her harm. She takes another blow to the shoulder, much too close to her throat.

"Jean," she thinks, as forcefully as she can. "JEAN."

"Ororo?" she hears, in her mind. "What's wrong?"

She wastes no time with words, but lets the pain of another strike bleed through-- feels Jean reel back, and then hears, "Try to talk to her. I'm almost there."

"Child," Ororo says aloud. "Child, please! Be calm!"

No response but a lunge for the face.

The woman is on the verge of allowing damage to the child when Jean arrives, TK rushing into the room, around the enraged young woman.

"Blue! Stop!"

She turns at Jean's voice, and suddenly her roar transmutes into something desparate. She makes another lunge-- but this time, for the knife. Jean halts her in mid-air.

"No!!" she struggles, "LET me GO, LET ME, LET ME!!" Her eyes fix on the blade and the scream rips from her again. "Let me!!"

"She's bleeding-- I've got to get her to the medlab. Are you okay?"

"I am," Ororo says, standing. "Go."

The roar from the girl continues as they rush through the halls and down into the medlab. Hank is there already (was there already) contacted by Jean.

"let me, let me, let me."

"She's lost too much blood, I can't sedate her. Here." They strap her into the medical bed which has become her second home over the last few weeks. Immobilized by Jean's TK, Blue howls in fury as Hank reworks the stitching in her palm-- and the sound continues long after he's finished his mending and his bidding Jean to go back to bed. He sits at his desk at the far end of the medlab, trying largely unsuccessfully to block it out.

Eventually, though, it begins to dwindle. It grinds down into a long, arching moan-- and then panting sobs-- loud, labored breathing into finally the soft, even breathing of the resigned. It startles him, even, when he feels a scratched voice from across the room.

"Why didn't you sedate me?"

Hank looks up from his computer. "You'd lost too much blood. I had to give you a transfusion."

"Whose blood did you give me?"

"Gambit's."

The laugh comes out as a dry wheeze from an injured throat. "Shit. Already have his blood."

Hank doesn't answer.

"What happened to Red?"

"She went to get some sleep."

"She came outta nowhere."

"You were attacking Ororo."

"Not really."

"Why don't you try and get some rest?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why don't you?"

Hank gestures to his computer. "I'm working."

Blue looks at him, shrugging one shoulder against the pillow. "I'm dying."

* * *

--Alestar
**
I'm eating pomegranete seeds. You know the story of Persephone? I keep thinking, 'Hades, lord and master, I hope you've got a nice pad. I'm gonna be dropping by, and staying for a hell of a long while.' But I like them. They stain your teeth and fingertips really crimson.
~ Lise