“Well isn’t this a nice surprise.”
Standing under the thick tree, Rogue eyed the large man leaning against the rail of the porch cabin discreetly and remained silent as she finished her second cigarette. Her gloved fingers less twitchy as she took a long drag and blew the smoke out through her lips. The rest of her face neutral and calm, the flight over had given her the time to pick herself back up.
Throwing her cigarette towards the ground she stepped into the light and ground her heel down on the butt. The man waited patiently with a large smile.
“What did you bring for me, angel?” he purred.
“Just some garbage I thought you could take care of, Victor,” she replied coolly and hit her fist out against the trunk of the tree.
A rush of sound followed and Graydon Creed fell down into the light, tied up and hanging from his feet. The gag in his mouth drowned out his muffled cries, his eyes widening in fear at the hulking man in front of them.
A feral smirk was her only reply for a moment as Sabertooth’s eyes narrowed and gleamed in the dark night.
“You always bring me such nice gifts, angel.”
Stalking up the steps of the porch she narrowed her eyes at the other man. His shaggy blonde hair was noticeably shorter and revealed more of his face and if it wasn’t for the dangerous gleam that was always present and the fangs that peeked out from under his lips, he could have been a handsome man. But Rogue knew that wasn’t really what attracted her attention with him, it was the animalistic nature he gave off and she wondered what that said about her and the men she was attracted to.
Victor for his part liked to tease her and wasn’t shy about his opinions of her but two things kept him from stepping over the line, Mystique and Logan. The first one was far more understandable, he was slightly afraid of Mystique and what revenge she would dish out. With Logan she wasn’t so sure, despite the times she’d seen the two men fighting, Victor professed an odd sense of honour towards the Wolverine and for some reason she fell into that category.
There was the added fact that Sabertooth wasn’t a good guy, and that was an easy enough reason to keep her distance.
Victor drew one long claw down the porch railing. “Hello son,” he spat and Graydon struggled further against his binds.
She noticed the gleam in Victor’s eye and spoke up, “Do what you want Victor, but we need him alive.”
Shifting his gaze Victor almost frowned at her playfully before glaring, his lips peeling back in a snarl. “Why do you tempt me then?”
Scowling at him she placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t get pissy with me,” she snapped back. “We need him around when everything he’s done is leaked to the media. I know you don’t care much for mutant and human politics but the punishment and shame Graydon will receive from the public, from his peers and his benefactors will be worse than death for him.”
Victor stepped closer and the shadows danced along his body, making his figure all the more looming but she remained still. His hand came up and cupped her chin as his skin was protected by her hair.
“You’ve become too rational, angel,” he purred. His nostrils flared. “You’ve been back with the X-Men I see.”
Her eyes flickered and she knew her clam facade had broken for a moment but Victor let go and turned back around as he descended onto the first step, his eyes on his son with disgust.
Victor breathed deeply and his whole body moved as his large muscles flexed with power.
“I see the runt is still a coward.”
“What’s that mean?” she snapped, knowing as the words left her lips she should have remained quiet.
Victor glanced at her, his eyes slits and cat like in the darkness.
“He hasn’t claimed you yet.”
She snorted and sauntered down the steps past him.
“Mystique will be in contact with you, to pick him up when the time is right.”
“Don’t go away angry, angel,” he whispered behind her and she turned around in surprise at his low tone.
Watching him wearily he stepped closer and straightened his body up into a less dominating pose.
“There’s so much life pulsing beneath your skin, a raging flood of anger,” he purred and sniffed the air around her. “You’re becoming your mother’s daughter every day.”
She pulled back as though hit and he watched her with surprised eyes. Put off by the attention she glanced away.
“Good bye, Victor,” she stressed through clenched teeth.
“Don’t be shy, angel,” he replied. “I will be seeing you and the runt again.”
She looked at him in shock and he laughed suddenly, a deep throaty laugh that echoed throughout the forest.
“Don’t be so surprised, Rogue,” he purred again. “I will be waiting to see what the Wolverine does.”
She glared at him and shook her head in disgust, annoyed by the way he always assumed so much with her, like he already knew everything there was to know about who she was.
Walking forward into the dark abyss of the forest before her she turned back briefly to glance at the isolated cabin where Victor was standing in front of a struggling Graydon with a feral look. He laughed unexpectedly again and his voice echoed around the woods, “I hear you’ve been a bad boy, Graydon.”
Rogue lifted up into the night as Victor slipped the gag out of Graydon’s mouth and as she flew away his scream followed her for the first two miles.
***
Slouching in one of the Professor’s old lounge chairs, Rogue dangled one leg over the other as her fingers grazed along the chess board beside her. Picking up the white queen in her hand she sighed and glanced at the antique clock on the desk that she knew was now Storm’s.
It was early morning and no one was aware of her arrival, after sneaking into the Professor’s old study through the brand new window they had installed.
Putting the chess piece back on the board she ideally touched various pieces as her mind drifted.
“You’re getting exceptionally good at this, Rogue,” the Professor complimented her.
Glancing up shyly she nodded at the older man who was seated on the other side of the chess board. Moving a black piece along she waited for him to make his next move.
“It’s more Erik then me, really,” she muttered.
“Do you really think that is so?”
She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders, her eyes wandering briefly through the window where she could see most of the students taking advantage of the good summer weather as they played games in the fields.
“I never touched a board until after Liberty Island, Charles,” she replied and glanced down at the use of his name.
The Professor was patiently silent as she spoke and he resumed his focus on the chess board.
Moving one of his pieces along he spoke again, “There is something to be said, though, Rogue, that you find Erik’s knowledge of chess useful, otherwise it would have disappeared.”
“The people I touch don’t ever disappear, Professor,” she replied more strictly her eyes focusing on him.
He nodded slowly and his gaze wasn’t condescending as he watched her. “But they can fade over time,” he replied soothingly. “Perhaps it is another function of your gift to be able to pick up on useful skills from those you touch.”
She scowled at the word gift but he didn’t notice. “Then why is it that I remember the nightmares, Professor?” she asked as she moved another piece on the board. “Why is it that I remember the smell of burning bodies in the concentration camps and the sound of their screams and their cries when everyone my age reads about it safely off of a page? Why do I remember what it was like to be used by humans, to have my skin pierced open and hot metal poured in? What skill have I gained?” she voiced bitterly and glanced back out the window.
She waited for his humble words of hope but he surprised her when he spoke again, his voice more direct.
“Do you wish me to tell you things you already know, Rogue? How unfair it is that your friends and your teammates do not understand the wisdom you have gained when you only appear eighteen. That, that wisdom is both a curse and a blessing.”
She snorted.
“Rogue,” he voiced more deeply. “You gain perspectives others cannot even begin to know or are willing to understand. The power and the choice that lies in you is to decide what you do with the knowledge you gain, no matter how dark, or how powerful.”
Her gaze moved from the chess game and focused on his suddenly earnest and open eyes, his voice almost trembled as he spoke. “There has been a great lot forced on you so quickly, Rogue and I cannot change the way things have happened for you and neither can you.”
“You paint a pretty picture, Charles,” she retorted and she waited for him to make his next move but he didn’t as his attention was still on her.
“In the end Rogue all you can do is persevere against the challenges that come your way. Show those that wish to swallow you whole with their darkness that there is always hope to be gained, even if you have to dig deep for it.”
“Alright, Professor,” she whispered slowly, confused by the sudden vigour in his voice.
“Rogue,” he whispered.
She glanced up at him with a timid smile.
“I cannot guarantee you control of your skin.”
She frowned. “I know,” she remarked bitterly.
“But I can help you learn to adapt your power, to learn what is important, what is a benefit for you and not a hindrance when you must use your skin.”
She nodded slowly as his words sunk in.
“Can we please continue playing?”
“Have Erik and Logan not both provided you with views of the world you never thought to explore before?”
“Yes,” she muttered and fiddled with the queen on the board. “But I thought that was exactly what made you all afraid of me.”
The Professor backed up and wheeled around the game as he moved in front of her and reached for her gloved hand.
“It is hard to understand sometimes where fear comes from,” he began. “But the decision will always be yours in deciding who you will be. The threat of a foreign personality invading your mind is a very possible reality and will always be a trying experience but I don’t doubt the strength I see in you even so young. The resilience to remember who you are. That will always be the answer Rogue, but I promise you as long as I’m alive I will make sure I will be there to drag you back but someday you will have to learn to rely on yourself in that matter.”
“Since I’ve been running away, I’ve been relying on myself,” she muttered.
He looked at her sadly for a moment. “One day you will understand what I mean.”
He moved back around and she noticed his gaze landed on his book case for a moment and he looked lost in thought. Finally he moved back in place and moved his next piece.
“Some fear you Rogue, because of your skin but some also fear you because of what you know and could know and others fear you because of the strength they envy you for.”
“I’m not a hero, Charles,” she replied.
“That’s not fair to say,” he answered back with a small smile. “You’re life isn’t mapped out for you yet.”
“Sometimes you’re too hopeful, Charles.”
Her eyes snapped up to his immediately as her mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry,” she stuttered, knowing how much she had sounded like Magneto.
“It’s quite alright,” he responded as he glanced back at the game. “You agree with his opinion of me, that’s nothing to be afraid of. If you feel though, that the things you say are never truly how you feel, then I will quite readily accept your apology.”
She was silent as she sunk back in her seat ashamed.
“Rogue,” he voiced lightly catching her attention. “In this place I don’t want you to think you have to believe in the same things as everyone else. It is important to have people like you who will always be willing to get back up and question the way things are.”
She nodded slowly and took her turn.
“Hope though is not always as easy as people think. It is far easier for people to go down the road of destruction. Hope doesn’t come any easier to one person than another.”
“I know about how things aren’t easy,” she replied flippantly and glanced up but he only wore a warm smile.
“Yes, I know you do,” he glanced down at the board as he paused. “But it looks like you won this game.”
Looking at the board she smiled at him. “Thanks,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For,” she began and stuttered. “For taking an interest in me.”
His smile flickered for a moment as it grew and he nodded.
“You’re a special person, Rogue and I won’t be the only one to see that.”
She began to reset the board.
“And don’t worry, Rogue,” he began softly with a small twinkle to his eyes. “Logan will be back soon enough.”
She blushed suddenly as innocent heat blushed her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to pry but you were projecting your concerns so loudly.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s no secret I care about him everyone knows and they...”
“And he cares about you just as much,” he interrupted her. “Now, let’s see if I can earn some respect back with this next game.”
Knocking the black king over, she waited patiently, her eyes wandering around the familiar walls, the recognizable touches that had been all Xavier’s. The only changes apparent were the few potted plants Storm had placed in front of the windows. His presence still loomed within the foundations he had built.
But he was merely a phantom, a wisp of familiarity that would catch her off guard at times.
She stared at the chess board as though she could make it disappear by blinking. She stared at the empty seat across from her as though with a flutter of her eyelashes she could make a man appear.
She hated knowing the truth Xavier had hid from them all. She hated the consequences of his actions. She hated knowing three of her friends were buried somewhere on the ground with fresh soil and flowers; a mockery of the truth. A pretty picture they had all painted when really there’d been nothing left for them to bury, nothing but ghosts.
She hated that he had left her.
And she hated knowing that was what hurt her most of all.
Sighing deeply, she picked the knocked over king back up and switched one leg over the other. The craving for a cigarette was kicking at her nerves quickly, the back of her tongue bitter with taste as she fought the urge. The air in the room was thick with an invisible disapproving feeling.
Cracking her knuckles, she glanced back at the door and sat back slowly as the door handle turned.
“Rogue,” Storm gasped in surprise.
“Good Mornin’ ‘Ro.”
For a moment Storm flustered and quickly she reined back her surprise and once again she was the perfect image of control and calmness. Rogue had always envied her ability at appearing so serene. Perfect white hair that never had a loose end even in the aftermath of a battle.
She knew that it took a lot of control on Storm’s part in learning to keep everything in balance, but even so she hated to think how she paled in comparison.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” she began as Storm remained quiet. “I didn’t want to cause a big scene.”
Storm moved around to the desk and placed a few folders down that she had been carrying.
“No more planes to drop out of,” Storm spoke, but her smile was amused.
She smiled in return, surprised at the non-level of animosity from the other woman, after she’d taken off.
“Flying these days is kind of pricey,” she sassed back.
Storm nodded and sat in the chair behind the desk. “I appreciate you coming to me first, Rogue.”
“Well, I figured I owed you some answers.”
Storm pursed her lips together. “I believe you’ve owed the X-Men some answers since the beginning of this little mission.”
Rogue nodded lazily and glanced around the room. “But you still went ahead with the plans anyways.”
“Would you rather I had doubted you and treated you like a stranger?”
“It might have been safer,” she replied bitterly.
The white haired mutant stood up and approached the empty chair across from her, her tall body slipping into it sleekly.
“No one was injured; Rogue and we got what we needed.”
“And that’s enough?”
“There’s nothing more I would want then for you to feel comfortable enough with me to tell me what personal stake you had involved with Graydon, but,” she paused for a moment in reflection. “After the dust has settled, the world hasn’t ended and you don’t seem to be the cause Rogue, so the only way I will ever want to know what happened when you left Jubilee, is when you feel you can tell me as a friend.”
Rogue glanced away and murmured, “That simple, eh.”
Storm replied after a moment. “Doesn’t seem like there was anything simple about this for you.”
Getting up Storm moved towards the desk again. “Was it really such a hard thing for you to face the reality of coming back here?”
“If I was runnin’ then I never should have come back to this place.”
“But were you really running away, Rogue?” Storm asked delicately.
Looking up into the weather witch’s eyes she held back a breath as she whispered, “I don’t know.”
In reply, Storm nodded at her and sent her a comforting smile. Picking up the phone on the desk she pressed a few buttons and held the phone up to her ear.
“Yes, Hank, I believe you can release her,” she spoke into the phone without any further instruction and hung up.
“Mystique?”
“Yes,” Storm replied with an unusual smirk. “She volunteered to remain locked up until you arrived, in case we thought she was playing us in any other way and well,” Storm shrugged suddenly leisurely. “I was all for that.”
A small laugh escaped her as she thought about Mystique sitting in the lower levels. “She can be such a pain in the ass.”
Storm smiled at her but her eyes held a sadness to them.
“You want to ask me why, don’t you? Why I’m with her and not with you?”
“Will it do me any good?”
“If you want the honest truth, it really was all about timing.”
Turning away from the desk Storm walked over towards her plants and her fingers ran over the bright fertile leaves.
“My invitation will always stand for you, Rogue,” she whispered with her back still towards her. “There will always be a space for you here.”
Rogue watched her in the sunlight and she felt a sensation of warmth fill her at gazing at the older woman she’d considered at one time to be such a powerful anchor in her life, in being a mentor, a teacher but even an equal, a friend.
“I’m not sure everyone would agree with you on that,” Rogue voiced slowly. “I’m sure I’d have to pass a few tests to prove myself.”
Storm’s shoulders hunched a little until they rolled back as she tilted her neck and her eyes were on the sun.
“There are people here who care deeply for you.”
“Besides,” Storm continued as she turned around. “I’m the overseer of this school and the X-Men.”
She smiled at the other woman’s sudden firmness and sly look, she half expected a bolt of lightning to crackle outside the window, but the sky was still bright with the morning sun.
“You’ve done a good job you know,” Rogue replied. “Xavier would be proud.”
“Thank-you.”
Storm walked back towards the desk. “I would offer you some tea but I have a feeling you won’t be staying that long.”
Caught off guard Rogue glanced down at her lap. “I’m sorry.”
The other woman sighed. “I suppose I should thank you for the lead on Graydon. From what Kitty has deciphered from his hard drive he was up to more than just the sentinel program. His mutant hatred had large ambitions.”
“You think you will have enough to destroy his reputation?”
“Yes,” Storm replied. “I believe we might even gain some mutant sympathy once we show what the Friends of Humanity have been up to.”
“Good.”
“Mystique said you’d dealt with Creed in making sure he won’t be around for a few days to give us time to release everything we have to the media and government without complications.”
“Yes,” she replied and reframed from eye contact. “It was always a possibility he would know what we were up to, he just made things easier when he’d showed up.”
“He’s being taken care of?”
Rogue couldn’t stop the smirk sliding onto her face. “You could say that.”
The door suddenly opened and Mystique briskly entered with a look of boredom.
“Thanks for the accommodations Storm, but Rogue and I must be going.”
Storm glared at the other woman but her eyes focused back on Rogue. The emotion in her eyes almost made her consider staying a moment longer; trying to explain everything further but Mystique stepped closer.
“Have you satisfied their questions, Rogue?’
“Yes,” she hissed back.
“Time to go then,” Mystique replied and stepped out of the way.
Silently, she walked through the door.
“I don’t ever want to see you again,” Storm directed at Mystique behind her.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Mystique replied with a tsk and shut the door behind her.
“We have business to attend to.”
“I know,” Rogue replied dejectedly.
“Don’t start now,” Mystique muttered as they continued walking. “It sure took you long enough.”
Rogue smirked behind the other woman’s back thinking it wouldn’t have hurt to have circled around Xavier’s property a few more times.
“Don’t be long,” the woman in front of her suddenly whispered impatiently.
Confused, she was about to ask why when she spotted Logan pacing in the front foyer. A cold feeling of dread filled her immediately as the trickles of nervousness tightened in her stomach. With each step the prospect of leaving became harder to comply with as her feet dragged in hesitation, despite knowing this was the only way to do things.
A proper good-bye.
And then on to the real world. A world where she didn’t have fantasies about the man who’d saved her life more than once, the only man who never looked at her as though she was a weapon to be used, or just an object to desire or a challenge to overcome. He looked at her like he saw everything, the good and the bad, the broken and the scarred and an odd sense of unknown hope. He looked at her like he saw a grown woman.
She couldn’t hide from his strong gaze, his eyes that were clear with his intent. He wanted her to stay and it broke her cold heart to know it was all too late.
Mystique left through the doors with a smirk on her face to contrast Logan’s snarl and as the door closed the silence swelled around her like heavy smog.
Rubbing her boot into the floor she tilted her head down and waited but Logan was a stone wall in front of her.
Huffing out a small tired breath she glanced up and started with the basics.
“I would say I’m sorry that I took off from the original mission but you weren’t that surprised were you?”
He stared at her intensely, his focus never faltering but his face was unreadable.
“Surprised?” he muttered and shook his head. “No.”
“Disappointed?” she replied slowly.
“You could have just told me.”
Her fingers fidgeted inside of her gloves.
“I did in my own little way.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I couldn’t,” she replied earnestly. “You would never have trusted to leave me alone.”
“I’m assuming you got the other diary then. Had to be what this was all about.” He stepped closer towards her, his eyes dark. “Graydon could have done terrible things to you.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s a spineless human who...”
“Who created some kind of gun with you in mind,” he interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “I saw the pain in your eyes.”
His hand reached out towards her slowly, his finger tips grazing the bottom of her shirt. She started to breathe deeply as she felt his touch hovering above her. Lifting her shirt up he frowned at the large red mark that hadn’t disappeared from her stomach.
“You should get that checked out,” he whispered as his eyes connected with hers.
She licked her dry lips and his eyes followed her actions.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
A flare of heat moved from her toes up her body at his closeness and she wanted to pull away but her body was failing her in co-operating.
“What about internal damage?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never had any problems before; the invulnerability I absorbed seems to extend to my organs as well. It can’t fully desensitize pain though. I can stop a runaway train by standing in front of it and hardly a bump but Graydon’s bullets were a far more concentrated source of power in a smaller form, the contact is more determined and ...painful.”
His eyes turned fierce abruptly and he dropped her shirt.
“Then stop being so damn reckless when bullets are sailing through the air.”
She scoffed. “Says you who...”
“I HEAL!” he snarled in her face suddenly. “And you can’t, not – not when I’m not there!”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his outburst and she pursued her lips realizing the concern he was unleashing despite his angry manner.
“Logan,” she began softly but he spun around and interrupted her.
“You should have Hank look at you and assess the limits of your powers.”
“I can’t, Logan.”
“Why not?” he snapped, his eyes were wild as the agitation moved through his shoulders.
“Because I’m leaving,” she whispered.
His chest heaved and he ran a hand through his hair.
“I know,” he muttered darkly and reframed from looking at her.
She clenched her fists, trying to call on some hidden strength as she felt her walls coming down.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” she replied softly. “I really am.”
“Then stay.”
“Logan...”
Suddenly, he was in front of her, his body hovering over her but his hands gently grasped her arms.
“What did I do wrong this time?” he blurted out in a hurried whisper. “I tried to fix this place, I tried to make myself a better man even when you weren’t here just so, just so....” he drifted off and his eyes darted back and forth.
“I messed up, Marie,” he spoke up more determined.
His fingers reached up and curled around her white bangs.
“I can’t say I’m sorry for the way I felt for Jean back then and I can’t say I’m sorry for how I was after what I had to do but I am sorry for neglecting you, for not realizing...”
His hand faltered.
“I need, you,” he whispered desperately.
She felt the tears pool in her eyes and a hard voice was screaming at her to pull away but a stronger, tenderer voice told her she’d be making the wrong decision. It was all too complicated again.
Distracted, his hand had reached up to cup her face and she noticed he was wearing gloves.
“I need you with me Marie,” he spoke gently. “I need to be able to rebuild this.”
His eyes bore into hers and she found she couldn’t even blink.
“Don’t you feel that way at all?” he spoke again in an agitated whisper.
“Logan,” she whispered and she felt a tear escape and slide down her cheek.
Gently, he rubbed it away with his thumb.
She turned away. “I can’t do this,” she whispered tightly, the air catching in her chest. “Not now,” she murmured.
He pulled back at her words, confusion settling in on his face.
“Are you saying it’s too late?”
“I just,” she stuttered and shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut as she willed the emotion away. “I can’t believe I can come back here now, Logan, things are different...I....”
“Sometimes things have a habit of tying us down, the choices that much narrower.”
He pulled his hands back in shock.
“You saying, this place tied you down, I tied you down?”
She shook her head. “I’m saying I can’t stay, Logan.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes glazed over with anger.
“I’m saying maybe I regret leaving before, but I couldn’t have waited Logan, I couldn’t have been here doing nothing but wait for you to see me again, my life has to have more purpose.”
He turned away from her, his back tense and his fists clenched at his sides.
She wanted to explain to him how far more complicated her life was, that she had ties to a woman who held the memories to her past life, whose knowledge of the fated diaries were a responsibility she had taken on.
Walking towards the door she paused and waited as she turned the handle but Logan remained silent. Opening the door and slipping out she gave him the one thing she could.
“Goodbye, Logan.”
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