Rogue remembered the lyrics of Puccini’s “O Mio Babbino Caro” and she began to sing. She was shocked at the sound that came out of her, powerful and strong, shocked at the vocal range she was able to express. The memory of singing for Monsieur Tremblant, her old vocal instructor, exploded vibrantly across her mind. She recalled with perfect clarity how he chose this aria for her first performance as “Lauretta” in front of the boarding school she attended as a young child. Only now, her lungs were able to support the demanding breaths and sustained notes that as a child she could only attempt, her tessitura perfectly achieving and mastering the alternating notes throughout the two and a half minute piece.
It felt wonderful - it was amazing - it was as though she had never stopped, and damn, she was good! She pressed her hands to her chest, aware of the group of people who had gathered at the doorway behind her and she spun around to face them, catching her breath. Dr. McCoy, Colossus and Kurt clapped loudly, while Remy sat in his wheelchair looking absolutely gob smacked.
Laughing, Rogue exclaimed, “Ah can sing!”
Hank walked into the room and turned off the music he had left on his desk, smiling at her declaration. “Yes, that you most definitely can. Your vocal ability clearly hasn’t been affected by the removal of your memories.”
Rogue’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You knew Ah could sing? You’ve heard me sing before?”
Kurt laced his three fingers through his foster sister’s five, leading her past a still stunned and speechless Remy LeBeau. “Ja, mein liebchen, the entire vorld has heard you. Come vith me ‘Anina’. You and I have a date vith YouTube.”
Rogue spent the afternoon with the teleporter watching performance after performance of her singing in different opera houses throughout the world, feeling like she had fallen into some strange, parallel universe. There was nothing of her in this “Anina”, nothing at all outside of sharing a childhood nickname. Staring at the screen in front of her, Rogue felt even more removed from the woman she used to be.
Public outrage over the abduction of Anina necessitated the holding a press conference. It was explained by Tony Stark that S.H.I.E.L.D., along with the assistance of the X-Men, had rescued the famous soprano from an organization intent on fracturing the relationship between mutants and humans. The incident was spin-doctored as a shining example of co-operation between the two factions for the greater good, and the rising tide of hatred towards mutants subsided temporarily once more. The Senate hearings on the proposed Mutant Registration Bill were quietly postponed, and the nation turned its attention to the upcoming presidential elections in November.
It was not good news for everyone.
“I am not happy, Daken.”
Daken was sitting on a white wraparound leather sofa facing a large bay of windows that overlooked the Tokyo harbor and Rainbow Bridge. He absently stroked his tie, and stretched his other arm over the back of the seat before settling his eyes on the shadowed figure across from him.
“Yes, I assumed you would not be.”
Norman Osborne regarded the sharply dressed man in front of him for a few moments before speaking again. “How do you plan on rectifying this situation?”
“I have brought in two other members to join your new team in place of the two who have refused, Osborne. Mystique and Blindspot will be powerful additions. Moonstar, Bullseye and Kimura are pleased with my choices.” Daken crossed one leg over the other, smoothing away the wrinkles that appeared on the expensive slacks that covered them. “My one regret is not taking the Rogue with me when I had the chance.”
The head of H.A.M.M.E.R. looked at him sharply. “The X-Men, let alone the original Avengers, would never have allowed her to join us. No. I will have to be satisfied with who you have managed to bring in, short the one mutant I really wanted.”
Daken shrugged. “I could go after the telepath. The way to catching your precious angel is through him.”
“That was never an option, Daken. You don’t want to cross paths with Charles Xavier.”
“Crossing my path is just as inadvisable.” Menace was laced in every word.
Norman Osborne smiled placatingly. “You don’t have to convince me, Daken. You are after all, your father’s son.”
In an instant, blackened claws were pressing into the skin of his throat.
“I am not his son.”
The former Green Goblin fought the compulsion to swallow, knowing the small movement would cause the sharp talons to slice into his carotid artery. The enraged feral growled, satisfied with the level of terror emanating from the cowed man and stepped back, returning the deadly weapons into his forearms with an audible snap.
Threat removed, the H.A.M.M.E.R. director cleared his throat and stood up unsteadily. He had forgotten he was dealing with a psychopath. “We’ll proceed as is.” He recovered his composure and reached out a hand to the still fuming mutant. “Although I didn’t get my ‘precious’ angel, you will still get your reward.”
Daken stared at the extended appendage, more inclined to slice it clean off its attached torso than to hold it. But he didn’t come this far to ruin everything over his daddy issues. The men shook hands.
“I can’t think of a better way to introduce yourself to the Wolverine, Daken.” This time, Norman Osborne’s smile was returned.
Rogue raced towards the Danger Room, heart pounding and breath short. She pushed her hand against the cool metal doors, continuing her sprint into the room when they silently opened to let her in.
“Gambit?”
She was surrounded by overgrown oak trees, the synthesized night-sky clear and bright with stars. A full moon cast its light in front her, the unnaturally giant orb hanging impossibly low in the horizon. She sniffed. He was close by.
“'Ello, cher.”
Landing elegantly in front of her, the New Orleans thief stood to his full height before leaning on a fully extended staff beside him, eyes bright red against the darkness.
“Gambit!” Rogue launched herself at him, wrapping her arms about his waist and hugging him tightly, causing the startled mutant to step back and drop his staff. She laid her cheek against his body armored chest, grateful that he was finally out of the sick bay, ashamed that it was her fault he had been there at all.
Rogue loosened her hold to look up at him. “Ah’m so happy you’re okay. And Ah’m so sorry for what Ah did to you,” she told him, eyes full of guilt and remorse. “Ah can’t tell you how much.”
Gambit grinned, pulling her into his embrace, enjoying her unexpected outburst. “You’ve told Remy dat every day since dis one woke up, cher. But instead of tellin’, maybe you show, hmm?”
She smiled, responding to his scent thickening with desire, cutting her eyes flirtatiously at him. Seeing this, his own eyes flashed and he pressed his open palms against the small of her back to hold her more intimately against him.
“You are not authorized to be in the Danger Room.”
Rogue jumped out of Gambit’s arms, startled by the disembodied voice that exploded around them. She looked up to see Cyclops glaring down at her from the Control Room.
Unfazed, Gambit’s grin was still in place. “Don’t go too far, bebe.” With a wink, he picked up his staff and leapt into the dark shadows of the programmed environment, disappearing back into the strange fabricated landscape.
Rogue left the Danger Room, embarrassed. When she hadn't found Gambit in the sick bay, she searched for Dr. McCoy who informed her that Gambit had gotten up that morning and felt well enough to train. She was so excited by his unexpected rapid recovery that she ran straight to where he was. God, she was so stupid. She couldn’t just burst into rooms whenever she felt like it – this was a serious place for serious superheroes. What the hell was she thinking?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Rogue made her way up to the Control Room to speak to the X-Men leader, ignoring the fact that she was probably the last person he wanted to see. She walked in quickly before she lost her nerve and Scott looked up from where he was sitting, surprised. Rogue forced herself to smile. She approached him, gripping her hands nervously behind her, realizing this was the first time she had been alone with him since he found her by Jean Grey’s memorial a few days ago. Her voice came out in a rush.
“Ah want to apologize, Mr. Summers. Ah just found out Gambit was released from the sick bay and Ah let my excitement get the best of me. That’s no excuse, Ah know, and Ah swear Ah’ll be more respectful of what you do here from now on.”
The tall man remained silent, making no movement to show he heard her. Rogue became more uncomfortable, unable to see his eyes through the ruby quartz visor she learned contained his concussive optic blast. Sympathy ran through her. “It must be awful, seeing the world in no other color but red.” Rogue slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified she said that out loud. “Ah meant no offence, Mr. Summers!”
Rogue turned to leave, completely mortified, but Scott was beside her in two long strides, grabbing her gloved hand to prevent her exit. “It’s alright, Rogue. It’s fine.” He kept his hold on her hand. “And call me Scott. My name is Scott.”
She let out a relieved sigh, glad the tension she smelled on him when she first stepped into the room was gone. “Scott. That’s a nice, strong name. Ah like it.”
The expression on his face softened and her eyes widened, caught off guard by the change in his scent. This man didn’t hate her. This man cared for her. A lot.
He abruptly dropped her hand and returned to his seat, speaking into the intercom. “I’m upping the program to Level Seven, Gambit.” He hit a few buttons and became engrossed in his notes and when he didn’t say anything more, she realized he was done speaking with her. Rogue felt anger rush through her, hot and enveloping. There seemed to be so many secrets, so many unfinished sentences in this place - from Ororo and Hank evading her questions about how she joined the X-Men to Kurt and Jubilee changing the subject whenever she talked about her unexpected feral mutation. She was getting sick of it.
Rogue closed her eyes, and willed herself to remain calm. “What are you hiding from me, Scott?”
He stilled, the papers he was rifling through caught between his fingers. She could hear his heart accelerate and Rogue kept her eyes trained on him, alert.
Scott didn’t look at her when he replied evenly, “I’m not hiding anything from you, Rogue. Half your life has been stolen away. Getting a crash course on those fifteen years isn’t a good idea considering your fragile state of mind.”
She could feel her ears burn, his words making her angrier. “Ah can understand that,” she told him slowly, keeping a lid on her temper. “But Ah’m not asking for a crash course on half my life. Ah am asking about you and me.”
Scott returned to his notes, looking annoyed and impatient, back to the Cyclops she knew. “Now isn’t a very good time for me, Rogue.”
She stepped in front of him, slamming her hand down on the papers, blocking his view of the Danger Room. “It’s a very good time for me, Scott.”
Rogue was unprepared when he suddenly stood up to tower over her. His frustration was clear. “Don’t push this, Rogue. I need to do what’s best for everyone.”
She looked up at him, bewildered by his behavior. “Ah don’t understand. The only memories Ah have of you are Gambit’s and you seemed to be my friend. Ah know you’re angry about Mystique and my life with the Brotherhood and Ah’m sorry for their part in your fiancee’s death, but Ah don’t know how to convince you that Ah’m not one of them. Please, if you’ve ever been my friend, if you ever cared for me, you have to believe me. Ah am not one of them.”
The muscles along his jaw were working furiously and she could see his eyes narrow behind the red lenses covering them. Scott turned away and ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. When he hung his head, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise – he was hiding something.
“There was a time when you loved me.”
She blinked.
“You loved me and I didn’t trust your love. I hurt you.” He turned back to look at her, his face showing his pain. “We were together for over two years and I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. But I lost you.”
Rogue stared at him, stunned. She tried to reach for him but he put up his hand, his heartache wafting towards her. “Don’t. Your memories are gone, but not mine. I still love you, Anna.”
Rogue didn’t know what to say. She wanted to comfort him, but he had also said he hurt her. In a soft voice, she said, “Maybe in time Ah would have forgiven you.”
He laughed, but it was harsh sound. “My mistake didn’t just make me lose you. I lost you to him.”
“Him?”
Scott opened his mouth, and then closed it, his face hardening. “I can only speak for myself. I sure as hell am not going to make it easier for him.”
It wasn’t hatred that the man in front of her was feeling, but it was close to it. Who was he talking about? Remy’s memories hinted nothing about a relationship between her and Scott. It wasn’t Remy, so who could it be?
Scott took a step towards her and took both her hands in his, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I know you need time to adjust to the loss of your memories, and I know there is a lot for you to deal with right now. But I’m still hurting, Anna. It’s difficult for me to accept that what we had is over.”
She looked at their hands, his large ones covering her smaller gloved ones, finding it difficult to speak. His revelation shook her. She felt disoriented, and she swayed on her feet as a wave of dizziness came over her. Scott grabbed her shoulders, concerned.
“Anna?”
She shook her head, sweat breaking out across her forehead, her skin prickling uncomfortably against her clothing. “Please don’t call me that. Ah’m Rogue. My name is Rogue.”
“I know.” He sounded sad. “We’ll get your memories back, Rogue.”
She wished she could believe him. “Too much of me is gone now. Ah don’t know who Ah am anymore.”
Scott walked around the console. “Sure you do.” He hugged her, telling her firmly, “You’re an X-Man.” He ignored the alarm that indicated the Danger Room program was over, wishing he could be more than just a shoulder for her to lean on.
“We always take care of our own.”