Two hours passed before Beast was able to say anything definite about Celeste's condition. In all that time, Logan had been by her side, holding her hand. Celeste hadn't opened her eyes once, and it was scaring the hell out of him.

Beast rubbed the back of his neck, exhausted, and came through the door with a clipboard full of ink scribbles. He glanced down at his patient and checked the myriad of tubes and monitors that kept tabs on her bodily functions before saying anything.

"It doesn't look good, Logan. Not good at all. Her senses were apparently overloaded during the battle, and they shut down almost completely. Her brain activity is frighteningly erratic, which makes me think that perhaps Thepis engaged her in a mind lock before he was killed. So, when he died, he took her with him, for the most part. Most of the synapsis in her brain have snapped in half, and the neurons are rearranging themselves as we speak, trying to cover the damage." He sighed as he realized he was confusing himself. It was too early to use more than two syllables per word. "To put it simply, Logan, her brain is broken. She needs machines to perform the most basic functions."

"So when will she be better?"

Beast rubbed one hand over tired eyes. "Logan, I-"

"When, Beast, when?"

"Her senses have shut down all but permanently. That includes her mutant capabilities. She burned herself out, Logan. There is no cure for that."

"What about the kid?"

McCoy's face twisted into a mask of regret. "Logan-"

"Don't! Just don't, Hank!" It took him several minutes to force the tears back where they belonged. His breathing grew harsh. "Are you tellin' me there's nothin' we can do?"

"We'll wait, Logan. Celeste is an extraordinary mutant. Things may improve, but all we can do now is wait."

And wait they did. Every day, the members of the household held their breath for some good news about the queen who had won their hearts. There was none.

Logan rarely left her side, and when he did, it was only to jump into his Jeep and take off for hours on end. Jean had taken to bringing him food and sitting with him while he ate, mostly to give him some human contact. He rarely talked to anyone, and when he did, it was to snap their heads off. Jean and Xavier had tried for a week straight to probe her mind. There was nothing left to probe. Jean had spent two days in the lab herself, recovering from exhaustion.

Weeks passed. Celeste had said three words since the night she sacrificed herself for the X-men. She had opened her eyes once. She turned her head, opened her eyes, and whispered, "I love you." Logan had passed out. There had been nothing since.

Halloween had come and gone. Logan had almost kneecapped an obnoxious teen who had asked if they had anything besides Hershey's.

Rogue paused outside of the Med Lab early one morning, daring to hope she had just heard Celeste. She peeked in. For once, Logan wasn't there. Whatever she had heard wasn't him.

"Celeste?" she whispered cautiously. Callie remained motionless, pale and still on the hospital bed. Rogue crept into the room and felt her forehead. Nothing wrong here.

An arm like a vise wound around her neck, and Rogue screeched before she choked. She tried to fight, but found herself paralyzed from the neck down. The thing dragged her from the room and down the hall.

"I've got questions, chere, an' you gonna be de one to answer 'em." Cajun. The accent was Cajun. But what would a Cajun have to do with Celeste?

Rogue was dragged into the Rec Room and tossed on the couch. Still paralyzed, she scooted around so that she could see her captor. The woman was tall and thin, with dark waist-length hair and secretive eyes. Her impish features and generous lips bespoke full Creole blood, which was rare in 'Nawlins today. The woman wore a black body suit with leather half-boots. A leather pouch and a dagger hung at her waist, with the same scrolling as the silver band around her head, which was set with an tiger's eye the size of Rogue's thumb nail.

"Let me go!" she demanded, "Let me go, or Ah'll scream and bring the whole house runnin'!"

"You do that, mon chou. I'd like t' talk t' all of 'em. In fact," she waved a hand, and all of the X-men appeared in the room, half of them still asleep. Gambit, who was nearest, obviously irritated her the most. "Wake up!" she bellowed in his ear. He snapped to attention mid-snore.

"Now dat I have your attention, I want some answers. Now."

"Who are you?" Gambit yawned.

"Ah, chere? You don't know me? Any self-respectin' Cajun knows me. I'm Callie's aunt. I'm Marie Leveau."

Gambit's mouth dropped open. This was the most legendary Cajun female since the sixteenth century. Marie Leveau. Celeste's aunt?

She laughed at his amazement. "Oh, Gambit. Did you think 'Voodoo Queen' was an honorary title?"

"What d'ya want?" Logan grumbled, holding his head together with his hands.

"I want several t'ings, Logan. I want my sister back. I want my niece back. I want to kill you for being de cause of all this." Logan squinted up at her. She was hissing and spitting and looking ready to do exactly as she said. She was reminding him painfully of Callie.

But she had just challenged him, and he was in the mood to take her up on it. "Bring it on, girlie."

"With pleasure." Marie pulled a tiny doll from the satchel at her hip. A long needle was fished out of her hair, behind the band of her crown. In a flash of movement, Logan stopped breathing as she thrust the needle into the doll's tiny cloth heart. Blood flowed.

"Your Highness, no!" A second being intervened, snatching the needle back. Logan's rib cage expanded as though he'd been holding his breath for twenty years, not half a second.

Standing at Leveau's shoulder was a woman swathed in long velvet robes covered with glittering magic symbols. "You cannot kill him!"

"I will do whatever I want, chil'," she snapped, "You t'ink I can't?"

"Not this time!" The two women glared at each other. "If what I think is right, he's the only thing keeping her here, in the mortal realm." She switched her penetrating silver gaze to Logan. "Did you ever share her thoughts, before? Tell me, sir, do you have any marks on you from Her Majesty? Teeth marks, perhaps?"

His eyes narrowed. It was answer enough.

"Ah-hah! I knew it," she swung around and pointed an accusing finger at the Voodoo Queen, "You were so enraged, you were going to kill her lover for a bit of vengeance! You didn't even think about the prophecy! If she dies now, it's on your head!" She whirled around and disappeared in a flash of glitter.

Marie Leveau was left staring at the bloody needle in her fist. "Stupid faeries. I hate it when dey're right." She sighed gustily and put the needle and the doll away. "I hope you'll forgive me, hein?" she told Logan. Logan said nothing. His head lowered to his hands again.

"Marie?" Xavier spoke up from the corner.

"Charles!" she exclaimed, giving it the French pronunciation. "Been a long time, ouais?"

"Yes, Your Highness, it has. What prophecy was she talking about?"

"Oh, dat. Every time the heir to de t'rone is born, their fate, she's read by de royal astrologers. Celeste's was somet'in' 'bout a union born o' time and devotion. She finds true love only once, and when she do, it for eternity, blah, blah, blah. The reading's only done because o' tradition. The royals could care less, but de faeries, dey still believe it."

"Sounds like th' prophecy's comin' true this time," Rogue muttered from where she sat on the pool table.

Leveau shook her head. "Nah, 's impossible. She couldn't pick an eternal mate unless she found another immortal. An' believe me, all o' de ones dat are left, she's related to someh. . ."

She trailed off at the look on their faces. "Are you sayin' he's. . .Mon Dieu!"

Moments later, Beast ripped the computer printout of the heart monitor off the printer. "Yes, Ms. Leveau, there was a drop off." He pointed to the sheet. "You see? About three minutes ago, her heart stopped and then started again."

Marie Leveau stared at Logan, her voice deep and dreamy. "So you're de one."

Logan's teeth clenched. "Can't you fix her?"

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, chere. I'm only de second born o' my generation. Celeste picked a fight wit' someone far better. It's out o' my hands."