THE ARCHETYPE ASSOCIATION
She awoke very gradually, dream and reality intermingling
almost imperceptibly. She had the sensation of floating -
not flying, she realized, because she wasn't going anywhere
in particular. She really couldn't see anything, but she could
hear a murmur all around her, which reminded her of the atmosphere
of a church, or of a concert hall prior to the performance.
She felt warm, safe, and comfortable. The murmur, rather than
seeming threatening, was like the unintelligible but comforting
sounds that a mother makes to her child.
She snapped awake instantly, and the whispering in her head
was silenced abruptly. She slapped the button on the intercom
on her night stand. "Here, Hank," she replied. "How's
"Come down and see for yourself."
Rogue scrambled into a pair of jeans and hurried down to
the infirmary. She found Henry seated at one of the consoles,
surrounded by paper printouts, with his head in his hands.
"What's wrong?" she asked, worried.
Henry pointed to the closed door of the recovery room. "That
man is going to drive me to drink," he growled.
Rogue grimaced. "That bad?"
"He was juggling the bedpans an hour ago."
"Why don't you get some rest yourself?" she asked
"I'm about to hit the sack. The Professor relieves me
in a few minutes."
"Can I go talk to him?"
"If you're up to it. How do you feel?"
"A lot better. The rest did me some good. I had a really
weird dream, though."
"Let me guess. You were floating around in a dark place,
and there was whispering all around you."
She stared at him. "How did you know that?"
"Because Charles and I both had the same dream, and
I'd bet good money that some of the others here did, too."
Rogue glanced at the door. "You think he's responsible?"
"I'm not sure. Take a look at this," he said, pulling
a sheet of paper out of the pile in front of him. "This
is an analysis of his EKG patterns while he was out. They're
a bit incomplete because of that scrambling field he emits.
Ororo and Warren came down earlier to check on him, and I
did scans on them for a baseline analysis."
"Well, I think you'd have to see it to understand it."
He turned to a computer terminal and brought up a display.
"I asked both of them to take a brief nap while I scanned
their brain waves. While they were asleep, parts of their
patterns were identical. When I woke them up, they both reported
having the same dream that you did."
"Okay," she said, "somehow he's influencing
our dreams. Next question - why?"
"I've got two guesses. Either we're picking up some
sort of psychic echo of his healing state..."
"Or?" she prompted.
Henry grimaced. "The 'or' gets stickier. Ever since
he got here, I've been reading all the material on Jungian
psychology I can find."
"Well, after I came up for air, I came up with a theory
that's a bit out in left field. It's possible that our dreams
are part of an effort to aid his healing process."
Rogue frowned. "From who?"
"The collective consciousness."
She looked at him. "You're kidding, right?"
He shrugged. "It fits in with both Jungian theory and
the available evidence. My best guess, cornball though it
may be, is that his mind was placed in some sort of... I don't
know, protective custody, I guess, while his body was given
a chance to heal."
"Have you talked with him about it yet?"
"I'll do it after I get some sleep." He looked
at his desk and grimaced. "Maybe I should clean up before
Charles gets here."
"Good idea." She walked over to the recovery room
door and tapped lightly.
"Come in," she heard. She opened the door to find
Archetype sitting up in bed, surrounded by books. His face,
while still somewhat drawn, had regained a bit of its vitality,
and had a cheerful expression. That expression faded, however,
when he saw who had entered.
"I seem to be apologizing to you a lot lately,"
he said. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."
"I stopped being angry a few hours ago. Now I just want
to know why."
His face became troubled. "I wish I could give you a
straight answer, but to be honest, the best one that I can
give you is that those events took place in the time when
they were supposed to happen."
"Wait a minute," she said, as she settled down
in a chair, "are you saying that what happened was...
I don't know... predestined?"
"I wouldn't call it predestination as much as I would...
appropriateness. Sometimes, I find that circumstances in my
life reach a state where my options all reach the same conclusion
- where all the paths lead to the same destination. At that
point, the actions that I take are almost incidental to the
event itself." He paused. "Did that make any sort
"You're saying that you're sort of... bound by necessity?"
"That's a good way of putting it," he said approvingly.
Suddenly he yawned.
"Should I let you get back to sleep?" she said
"I think I'd better have something to eat first. Just
what time is it?"
"It's about eight in the morning. I haven't eaten yet,
either. I'll cook us both breakfast. What do you want?"
He thought a moment. "Can you manage a chicken-fried
She smiled. "I haven't made that in years. How about
eggs and hash browns on the side, with country gravy?"
"Be back in a bit. Want coffee?"
He made a face. "Never touch the stuff."
"But you've been making coffee for breakfast every day."
"Just because I make it, that doesn't mean I drink it."
She laughed. "Back in a bit."
Warren and Elizabeth walked into what had been the kitchen
the last time they had checked.
"What in the world..." Warren whispered.
Flour, eggshells, and cooking oil were strewn all over the
room. Piles of diced potatoes and onions were lumped right
next to the stove, where Rogue was frantically waving a spatula
over a smoking pan.
"Who attacked?" Elizabeth asked.
Rogue glared at her. "Not... one... word."
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Warren asked.
Rogue fumed for a moment, then pulled a twenty dollar bill
out of her pocket. "Two things. You know that truck stop
down the highway?"
"Bring back two orders of chicken fried steak, with
gravy, eggs, and hash browns, as fast as you can."
"Okay," Warren said, taking the money. "What's
the second thing?"
"Never... ever... breathe a word of this to Archetype."
Two days later, Henry gave Archetype a clean bill of health,
but cautioned him to "take it easy for at least a week."
"I'm fine, Doctor McCoy," was the reply.
"No, you're not," Henry said sternly. "You're
still slightly malnourished, and your muscles, for all they've
healed, are still pretty weak. If you just jump back into
your normal routine, you'll land right back in that bed."
"In any case," Xavier added, "you need time
to recover from the incident."
Archetype looked at him suspiciously. "What exactly
do you mean?"
"You are being placed on a leave of absence until we
feel that you are fit to return to duty."
Archetype groaned. "Oh, please, don't do that. I'll
go crazy if all I have to do around here is sit around twiddling
"You don't have to stay here," Xavier informed
him. "Look on this as a vacation. You have been
working pretty hard lately."
"All right," Archetype replied glumly. "Are
there any restrictions on traveling for me?"
Xavier and Henry looked at each other, then shook their heads.
"No. Do you have anything in mind?"
"No. I'll just take the next international flight out
of JFK and wing it from there."
"How soon would you leave?"
He shrugged. "I could be out of here in an hour and
a half. Just give me a chance to pack and get some money together."
"Why not just use plastic?" Henry asked.
"I like to get lost when I travel. If I use plastic,
then anybody who knows their way around a computer could trace
"How much do you carry with you at any one time?"
"Depends on the situation. I'll probably keep it down
to about ten grand for this trip."
"Oh, gee, is that all?" Henry said dryly.
Archetype smiled thinly. "I like to pamper myself when
I'm on vacation - I don't take one very often. I tend to take
the four-star hotel circuit."
"Do you have a destination in mind?" Xavier asked.
"I usually just look at what flights are going to Europe
and take the next available plane."
"All right," Xavier said, "you should get
packing. I want you gone for at least two weeks."
Archetype's face became mournful. "And I thought you
were starting to like me," he said in a mock-sorrowful
Xavier glared at him. "Get going," he said in an
After Archetype had left the room, Xavier and Henry looked
at each other. "Do you think he'll take it easy?"
"Given what we've seen of his personality so far, not
"Great. So how do we keep him out of trouble?"
Archetype came out of the elevator, carrying two large suitcases,
a flight bag, and a suit bag, trying to recall whether he
had forgotten anything.
"What took you so long?"
He looked up to find Rogue standing in the doorway, next
to a stack of luggage. "What in the hell do you think
you're doing?" he asked.
"I'm going with you," she replied.
"You most certainly are not!"
"Oh, yes, she is," Xavier said as he emerged from
the ante room.
"I do not need a chaperone, Xavier," Archetype
said between gritted teeth.
"To put it bluntly, Mister Riley, I don't think that
you're going to follow doctor's orders. Rogue is going along
to make sure that you actually get some rest."
"And how, pray tell," he asked, turning to Rogue,
"are you planning to do that?"
Rogue took hold of his belt buckle and lifted him up about
three feet. "Punching you out if you give me any grief
comes to mind," she told him.
"So much for the Hippocratic Oath," Archetype muttered.
Bobby drove them to JFK, and Archetype walked straight to
the arrivals and departures board. "See if you can find
the next flight going to Europe," he told Rogue.
After scanning the board for a moment, she replied, "There's
an Aer Lingus to Shannon in an hour and a half."
He nodded and went to the Aer Lingus booth in the reservations
wing. "I would like two adjoining seats in business class
for your flight to Shannon."
The clerk behind the counter tapped at his keyboard for a
moment. "Yes, sir. How will you be paying?"
"That will be cash."
"Will this be round-trip, sir?"
Rogue saw Archetype think about it for a moment. "What's
your time limit for claiming the return trip?"
"Thirty days, sir."
"All right, I'll take that, then."
After they had checked their luggage in, Archetype walked
over to the airport shops. "I'm going to need a survival
pack," he told Rogue.
"What's a survival pack?"
"Snacks, books, magazines... anything to keep me from
going crazy from boredom. Do you want anything? You've got
a blank check here, so take advantage of it."
"No problem," Rogue replied. Five minutes later,
they each had a largish stack of books, magazines, and candies
at the checkout counter.
"Anything else?" the cashier asked.
"I don't think I could fit anything else in my bag,"
Archetype replied. He looked at Rogue. "Care for a bite
before we leave?"
"Sounds good to me," Rogue said. "How about
there?" She pointed to a pizza booth across the airport
lobby. Five minutes later, they were both munching on pizza
"Mind if I ask a question?" Archetype asked her.
She shook her head. "Where do you find all your gloves?
I must have seen you with twelve different pairs since I met
"I usually get them at Bloomingdales. Why are you
always wearing gloves?"
"I have a few reasons," he replied evasively.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"Not quite yet." He glanced at his watch. "We'd
better start out for the gate." They polished off their
food and left.
As they approached the gate, Rogue stopped suddenly, her
eyes widening. "Oh, no," she wailed.
"What's wrong?" Archetype asked her.
"I just realized I forgot my passport!"
He frowned for a moment. "Come with me," he said
sternly, moving back to the shops. He turned into a side hall
suddenly, pulling her along by the elbow. Everything went
dark for a moment, and she found herself back in the foyer
of the mansion.
"Well," Archetype said impatiently, "hurry
up and get the thing!"
"Right," she said quickly, and flew up to her room
at breakneck speed. She grabbed her passport from her dresser
and hurried out the door, nearly running into Ororo.
Ororo jumped back, startled. "I thought you were at
"Long story," Rogue gasped. "Gotta go!"
She raced back down the stairs, where Archetype was nervously
looking at his watch. "Got it!" she cried.
"Let's go, then." He grabbed her jacket again,
and she found herself back at the airport. They went through
the gate, gave their tickets to the clerk, and boarded the
"Do you want the window or aisle seat?" he asked
"Mind if I take the window? the pilot in me likes to
see what's below me when I fly."
"No problem." They belted themselves into their
seats and waited for the cabin light to go off. Once it did,
Archetype took his bag from the overhead compartment and selected
a book. As he replaced the bag, he glanced at Rogue. "Do
you want your bag yet?" he asked her.
She shook her head. "I think I'll just take a quick
nap. Can you wake me up in a while?"
"Sure, but wait a minute before you do." He got
up and walked towards the back of the business class section.
When he came back, he was holding a pillow and blanket. "Here
you go," he said, handing them to her.
"Why, thank you," she said, touched. She placed
the pillow against the wall, wrapped herself in the blanket,
and was asleep in a few seconds.
A few minutes later, it seemed to her, she was gently shaken
awake. "Rogue," Archetype's voice said quietly,
"time to eat."
She yawned, stretching. "How long was I out?"
"About four hours. Do you want the chicken-flavored
cardboard or the beef-flavored cardboard?"
"Let's go with the chicken. I had beef-flavored cardboard
with the pizza."
The meal, which was actually quite good, was served a few
minutes later. "Where will we be stopping first?"
she asked him.
"I think we'll go to Dublin first, wander around a while.
Think you can handle driving an Irish car?"
"Let me guess. Wheel's on the right, drive on the left?"
"Just like in England," he confirmed.
They both turned their attention back to their books, and
soon they heard the pilot announcing the landing. Forty minutes
later, they had passed through customs and had rented a car.
"How long will it take us to get to Dublin?" Rogue
asked as they drove off.
"Three to four hours, depending on traffic. Just take
your time. We aren't on any sort of timetable here."
She nodded. "What's on the agenda once we get there?"
"Well, I'll have to stop at my bank first and exchange
some of my cash. Then I suppose we'll find a good hotel."
She stared at him. "You mean you didn't make any reservations?"
"None of you gave me any time. Besides, I've never had
any problem with getting a room when I need one."
He smiled that chill smile again. "Despite my age, Rogue,
I'm an old-fashioned gentleman, which means that, when circumstances
demand it, I'm the nastiest son of a bitch that you'll ever
meet. I'll make them so miserable that they'll give us two
rooms just to shut me up."
She smiled, then looked at him. "Why two rooms?"
Archetype looked startled for a moment, then became flustered.
"Well, I... that is, I thought..."
Rogue laughed. "I'm just joking. What do you want to
do about dinner?"
"Lunch, actually. We've lost a few hours, remember?
We'll find a good restaurant after we check in." He yawned.
"Then I'm going to crash for a few hours."
"Why didn't you sleep on the plane?"
"I can't sleep in a chair. Tomorrow I'll take care of
some business in Dublin. I can show you the shopping district,
if you like."
Rogue's face brightened at that. "I've got a feeling
that I'm going to max out my Visa on this trip."
"It's all on me. Consider it compensation for playing
baby-sitter," he told her, noting her look of surprise.
"I think I'm going to enjoy this," she said, smiling.
"We aim to please."
Archetype handed Rogue an envelope as he walked out of the
bank. "Two thousand punts," he told her. "If
you need more, just ask."
"Thanks," she said, slipping it inside her jacket.
"Which way to the hotel?"
"Down six blocks then take a left."
Ten minutes later, they walked into the lobby of the Shelbourne
Hotel. "Good morning," he said to the concierge,
"we would like two adjoining suites, please."
The clerk looked them both up and down. "Perhaps, sir,"
he said in a haughty tone, "you might wish to try another
Archetype's face hardened, and Rogue was fairly certain that
she felt the air crackle. "Perhaps, sir, you might
wish to reevaluate that statement." He reached into his
back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed a credit card,
which he showed to the clerk. Rogue watched with interest
as the clerk's eyes widened and his face blanched.
"Let's start over, shall we?" Archetype said coldly.
"We would like two adjoining suites, please."
"We will be paying on a daily basis. We will call if
we require anything. Beyond that, we are not to be disturbed.
Is that clear?"
"Excellent. Get someone to see to our bags." Fifteen
seconds later, a bellhop was loading their luggage onto a
cart and leading them to the elevator.
"What kind of card was that one you showed him?"
Rogue asked quietly as they ascended.
"Bank of Ireland Platinum Card," he replied. "Millionaires
She nodded. "Why'd you get so cold on him?"
"I didn't like his attitude."
As they entered their rooms, Archetype handed a fifty punt
bill to the bellhop. "Thank you very much for your help,"
he told the young man. "Tell me, what's the best restaurant
in this part of town?"
"That would be Coffees, sir."
"Would they be open right now?"
He looked at Rogue. "Could you be ready to leave in
"No problem." She entered her room and gasped.
It was huge - easily three times the size of her room at the
mansion. She quickly composed herself, undressed, and took
a quick shower, deciding that, given the size of the tub,
the suite was intended for two guests. She promised herself
a nice, hot bath later that night.
Forty-five minutes later, she was putting on the last of
her makeup when she heard a knock at the door which adjoined
the two suites. She unlocked and opened the door, letting
"Ready?" he asked. He wore a tweed ensemble in
various shades of grey.
"Just finished," she replied. "How do I look?"
"Enchanting," he assured her. She wore a white
blouse with a kelly green jacket, white hose, and a green-and-white
striped ankle-length pleated skirt. "Shall we get going?
I got the address of the restaurant from the front desk. It's
only a few minutes' walk from here."
"All right." She made sure that she had her keycard,
and they left her suite and entered the elevator. "What
exactly was that business with that guy at the front desk?"
she asked as they descended.
"I had just decided what my role is going to be,"
"I don't get it."
"Well, we could have gone to another hotel pretty easily,
but I just wasn't in the mood. So, as far as this hotel is
concerned, I'm a rich bastard who wants everything done his
way and done immediately." He frowned for a moment. "Remind
me to make one or two calls to the desk and complain about
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely." They stepped out of the elevator and
crossed the lobby to the entrance. As they passed the front
desk, Rogue noticed that Archetype fixed the clerk with a
As they walked down the streets, Rogue noticed that most
of the buildings that they were passing were older, and said
"This part of the city didn't see much fighting during
the Rebellion," he replied. "The area we're going
into is a bit more recent." He proved true to his word,
as brownstones soon gave way to skyscrapers.
"There's the floozy," he said absently at one point.
"Hm? Oh," he said, pointing to a nearby fountain,
which housed a stylized statue of a nude woman. "That
statue's known locally as 'The floozy in the Jaccuzi'. The
Irish, as a general rule, aren't too fond of modern art."
Ten minutes later, they walked into Coffees. "Reservation
for two under 'Riley', please," Archetype informed the
"Of course sir. If you'll please follow me?" He
led them to a small booth in the corner, handed them their
menus, and left them alone for a moment.
Rogue frowned as she looked at the menu. "I don't see
"This is the type of place where if you have to ask
the price, you can't afford it."
"Oh." After studying the menu for a moment, she
decided on chicken stuffed with wild rice, while Archetype
chose the filet mignon. Rogue also requested the wine list,
which surprised Archetype. "You just haven't struck me
as a drinker," he said.
She shrugged. "I'm on vacation and feel like relaxing.
Besides, my body burns alcohol out of my system pretty quickly.
One glass of wine isn't going to do much to me. Why?"
she asked with a twinkle in her eye. "Are you considering
taking advantage of me if I get wasted?"
He drew himself up. "I am a gentleman, madam. Besides,
you're stronger than I am."
She chuckled. "Where do you want to go after this?"
Archetype rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How about getting
some shopping done? I need to pick up a few things, and there
are a few antique stores that I frequent in the area. After
that, I'll show you where some of the boutiques are."
He was interrupted by the waiter, who brought them their drinks,
salads and a hot loaf of bread. "Dublin isn't exactly
Paris, but there are a few fashionable places around here."
He tore off a piece of the bread and buttered it. "Is
there anything in particular that you want to see?" he
asked as he sipped at his sparkling cider.
Rogue shook her head. "Not really. Any objection if
we just wander around and window shop?"
"None. I like to window shop, actually. It gives me
an opportunity to find things that I wouldn't intentionally
seek out. You haven't seen my bric-a-brac collection yet.
I keep all sorts of little treasures scattered all over the
world. I'll warn you though: if we stop at a bookstore, we'll
be there a while. I tend to grow roots when I'm in one."
"I'll make sure to throw you across the street if we
pass one, then."
"Thanks," he said dryly.
Their first stop turned out to be a men's clothing shop,
where Archetype requested a fitting for a suit. Fortunately,
it was a slow day, and the tailor had him on a stool within
minutes, measuring him from every angle. Archetype requested
that a vest be included with the suit, and offered the tailor
a bonus if it could be ready within twenty-four hours. The
deal having been struck, he and Rogue left and went to the
nearest antique store, where he purchased a nineteenth-century
The next two hours were all Rogue's, as they were spent in
one of the women's boutiques that Archetype had mentioned
earlier. Rogue entertained herself by trying on a series of
progressively more cutting-edge outfits. "Well, what
do you think?" she said to Archetype as she posed in
a black bustier with elbow-length gloves and a floor-length
skirt slit up to waist level.
Archetype's face was impassive. "I'd advise against
wearing it to a job interview."
Rogue stuck her tongue out at him.
Later, they spent an hour or so inside a used book store,
where Archetype bought a largish stack of books. "Do
you feel up to a black tie situation?" he asked Rogue
as they left. "There's a charity function tonight, and
it would be a good idea for me to show my face for a night.
I haven't been seen in Dublin social circles for a while,
and an appearance with a mysterious young woman will set tongues
wagging. Besides, we get a good meal out of the deal."
He looked at his watch. "It doesn't start until nine.
Why don't we head back to the hotel and rest up before we
"Okay," Rogue replied, "but I'll need to get
in to see a hair stylist."
"There's a salon in the hotel," he informed her.
Then he frowned. "Wait a minute. If you're invulnerable,
how can you get your hair cut?"
"I have a power dampener in my suitcase."
"Oh," he said. "Next stupid question: if you
have access to a power dampener, why not use it all the time?
I've talked with Bobby, and I know how much grief your powers
have given you."
Rogue was silent for quite some time. When she spoke again,
her voice was much quieter, almost a whisper. "I've got
lots of reasons, but two of them are the most important. First,
being exposed to a dampening field for long periods of time
can be dangerous. It's a lot like living next to a power line.
It doesn't do much short term, but the long term effect is
damage to the nervous system. I don't want to take that risk."
"I see," Archetype said feelingly. He looked at
her closely. "You don't have to talk about this if you
don't want to," he said gently.
"That's okay," she said, smiling slightly. "It's
been a while since I've talked about it, and I need to get
it out of my system once in a while. The second reason?"
She looked up at him, defiance flashing through her tear-stained
eyes. "The second reason is that I'm selfish. I will
find a way to control my powers, and I'll do it without relying
on some damn electronic crutch."
Archetype smiled gently, and slowly cupped her chin in his
gloved hand. "There's a brave girl," he said affectionately.
"Don't let them keep you down." He reached into
his back pocket and handed her a handkerchief, which she used
to dry her eyes.
Rogue looked at him gratefully for a moment, then, acting
on impulse, wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
When she let him go, he straightened his clothes out and looked
at her. "Shall we get ready for the party?"
Continued in Chapter
Down-Home Charm / Fan-Fiction /
Fan Artwork / History Books /
Photo Album / Songbank /
Miscellania / Links /
Legalese: Rogue, the X-Men, and the distinctive likenesses thereof
are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used without permission. This is an
unofficial fansite, and is not sponsored, licensed or approved by