Mystique turned her head, the fingers she had pressed against her temples doing little to offset the dull ache behind them. The pain was nowhere near the intensity it had been before, but the fear and confusion in her foster daughter’s voice still tore at her. And it was Rogue’s voice. If Mystique hadn’t been a thousand miles in the air trapped inside a metal fuselage when she first heard her, she would have raced to her daughter’s aid. Rogue’s terrified voice swirled in her mind ever since.
Where are you, Momma?
Mystique couldn’t understand how Rogue managed to reach out to her, or why she sounded so afraid. The X-Men were a tight little group. Surely they wouldn’t punish Rogue over the revelation of their relationship.
Would they?
The flight to Japan had been a silent one. Blindspot kept to herself and Mystique was glad for it. The easy defeat she had suffered at the hands of the X-Men paled in comparison to the helplessness she felt hearing Rogue’s desperate cry for help. Those do-gooder fools arrived too soon, she never got the opportunity to talk to her daughter – to explain, to defend, to hopefully reconcile. And now her Anna Marie was gone, trapped with those idiots once more.
Mystique looked over to where Blindspot and Kimura were sitting, the two women glaring at each other over the kitchen table where they were eating breakfast. Being in the company of these rabid females only added to her restlessness. The wait was becoming unacceptable – she needed to get back to the States. She needed to make sure her daughter was alright.
Ah need you.
Mystique winced and walked over to the penthouse window, her hands resting on her folded forearms. Swallowing hard, she struggled to keep her emotions in check. What a waste the past fifteen years had been. If only Destiny told her about her premonitions, she would have been able to protect their daughter, would have been able to ensure her safety, would have prevented all this loss and heartache. How different all their lives would have been if her dead lover had trusted in her.
Mystique looked down at the busy Tokyo harbor below, her eyes tracking the vessels docked at the Harumi Passenger Ship Terminal. Contempt flooded through her as she watched the fireboats put on their daily water spray show, the display eliciting excited facial expressions from the throngs of tourists that crowded onto the harbor’s observation deck.
Disgusting humans and their insignificant lives.
Humanity’s fear of mutants should be encouraged, not alleviated. The continuing efforts of Charles Xavier and his kind to co-exist peacefully with them were setting mutants' rightful place as the dominant species back decades. Magneto was right about one thing. The war the X-Men aimed to avoid was already at their doorstep and their refusal to acknowledge it forced enlightened mutants like her to pick up the slack. Mutants like her daughter.
Rogue was a born warrior. Mystique had groomed her, taught her everything she knew and Rogue had become a powerful weapon in the hands of the Brotherhood. It was hard for Mystique to imagine her fiery daughter choosing to wallow in the coddled world of the X-Men, why she would throw her support behind the Xavier’s absurd philosophy of protecting those who were bent on persecuting them. Jean Grey had known better, she saw through her benefactor’s façade and managed to break free of his hold. Charles Xavier had only himself to blame for his protégé’s death.
Real fear took hold of Mystique, thinking of the destruction the god-like Phoenix had caused. She could only hope he hadn’t made that same mistake with her daughter.
Daken was still pushing Osborne to enlist Rogue into the team and although Mystique would love to have her daughter by her side, she argued against it at every turn. She couldn’t imagine the X-Men and the Avengers ever accepting Rogue joining their new group and told the H.A.M.M.E.R. director as much. But the real reason was because she needed to keep her daughter as far away as possible from Daken. His growing obsession with her was disturbing.
Deep male laughter brought her out of her thoughts and she frowned, seeing Daken walk out of his bedroom with an almost nude Moonstar. He stopped in the center of the room and kissed the curvaceous blonde, making the glares of the women in the kitchen turn jealously towards them. Aware of his audience, Daken deepened the kiss before pulling out his erection and pushing Moonstar down to her knees in front of him.
The blue-skinned mutant looked at him impassively when he caught her eye, a small smile lifting the corners of his cruel mouth.
Jubilee was in Rogue’s room, reaching for a pair of gold hoop ear rings from the vanity table and putting them on when Rogue indicated she could. She backed away to face the mirror, turning this way and that, her face reflecting her indecision. Rogue ignored her. She learned the hard way that it was best to let Jubilee burn herself out when it came to picking out her outfits.
“Seriously – this look okay?”
Rogue tapped a wand of mascara to the ends of her eyelashes and stayed quiet.
“Maybe I should go with the skirt.”
Rogue opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut. Jubilee let out a sound of frustration. “Chica, you sure take a long time to get ready!”
Rogue gritted her teeth and put on a final swipe of blood red lipstick to her mouth, muttering, “Sorry,” before pressing her lips together. The thought that it was, in fact, Jubilee’s fault they were late stayed prudently within her mind. That was another thing Rogue learned. Never get into a debate with the firework wielding mutant. There was no winning. Ever.
Still looking unsatisfied with her choice, Jubilee sighed dramatically and retrieved her purse from on top of Rogue’s bed where she had thrown it earlier. “You know,” she said carefully, “Wolvie isn’t too happy about tonight.”
Jubilee’s ears were still ringing from the blistering lecture she got from the angry feral earlier in the day. Logan confronted her on the shopping trip she took Rogue on and he almost went ballistic when she mentioned that she was taking Rogue out again. It was starting to freak her out how easily he lost his temper when it came to Rogue, and even worse, how Rogue seemed to enjoy pushing him to lose it. Jubilee was finding herself in the middle of their arguments little too much lately, and it was not a good place to be.
Rogue stood up straight and snapped closed her own purse, pulling the tiny strap around a shoulder and facing her friend. “Wolverine’s happiness is not on my to-do list, Jubes.” She pulled on a pair of opera length red leather gloves and changed the subject.
“Let’s skidaddle, my hot friend. You promised me a night on the town, and tonight’s the only night available before you leave on assignment with Gambit tomorrow. Time’s a’wastin’.”
Jubilee followed her out the door, suggesting, “You don’t have to go with me. What about Kurt and Colossus?” Maybe that way Logan would stop growling at me and share the love, she thought to herself with a rueful grimace.
Rogue let out a bark of laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls of the hallway. “A gay man and a former Catholic priest initiate escorting me to a ladies’ night at the local hotspot? No way, Ah need my wingwoman.”
“Hey! You’re MY wingwoman!”
The two women continued to argue good naturedly as their heels stomped noisily down the stairs, alerting an already very agitated Logan pacing in the common room. Catching sight of him, Jubilee tried to escape quickly, pulling Rogue by the arm towards the foyer but Logan intercepted them, scowling.
“Where’s the rest of your clothes?” His voice was a growl.
Rogue stopped in her tracks. He looked delicious, all mad and fuming. Smiling, she winked at Jubilee and remarked, “Ooh. He’s cute and clever.”
Logan stepped closer and looked disapprovingly at her outfit. “Yer skin’s lethal.”
Rogue’s eyes widened as though shocked. “What? It is?”
The muscles along his jaw were working furiously. “I told you before, yer not funny. This is a bad idea, it’s too dangerous. I’m coming with you.”
Her smirk vanished and Rogue got right in his face. “No. Fucking. Way. Ah told you before, you’re not invited. If you try to sneak in to the club, Ah’ll smell you and Ah’ll call off our arrangement.”
His chest heaved with anger. “It’s not safe, Marie.”
“Rogue,” she instantly corrected him. It had gotten to be a routine between them. He refused to call her Rogue and she refused to let him get away with it. It became a part of every single conversation they had.
“The more protection you have, the better. Think about it.” Logan tried to sound helpful, but failed miserably. He didn’t want her going out, period.
Rogue shrugged and shifted her weight onto one hip, folding her arms across her chest. “Here’s something to think about. How about Ah go into New York City instead of Salem Center? How about Ah go out on my own instead of with Jubilee? How about Ah have no back-up plan instead of having Kurt on standby? How about Ah do whatever the hell Ah want? What do you think about that?”
Logan glared at her.
“Right.” Rogue stepped towards the full length mirror nearby and checked out her reflection.
The skin tight, red leather pants fit against her like they were poured on, the matching, crisscrossing halter top just as snug against her breasts. She adjusted the opera length red leather gloves, eyeing herself critically. Rogue looked hot and she knew it. Her black, knee-high leather boots clung to her calves and she spun expertly on their steep heels, the riot of dark curls and waves that framed her heavily made up face flowing over her bare shoulders. She pulled at the white streak and twirled it around her finger, walking slowly back to where Logan was glowering at her.
“Ah’ll try to keep my hands off the Yankee boys,” she told him, thickening her accent and holding her arm out to Jubilee.
Logan turned to Jubilee for support but she lifted both hands in defeat, before linking her arm through Rogue’s. “My instructions are clear. I go where she goes.”
His face reflected his disapproval of her as well, her get-up not too much different in her trademark yellow and she grinned, popping her gum loudly at him before allowing Rogue to lead her outside to the taxi waiting for them.
As soon as the two women arrived at ‘Wannabe’s,’ they were ushered in by the bouncers, bypassing the long lineup that snaked along the sidewalk outside the popular night club. The pounding beat of house music assailed Rogue’s senses and she surrendered to its rhythm, her hips swaying as strobe lights flashed all around her. A path was cleared through the mob of people by the two bouncers assigned to her and Jubilee, the burly men leading them to one of the special VIP cages suspended over the expansive dance floor.
Jubilee was already enjoying herself, jerking her body in time to the music and waving at various people she knew. She pulled on the bars as though she was a prisoner, screaming, and the appreciative crowd below screamed back. Laughing, Rogue grabbed a bottle of vodka from the personal bar and began to chug it down her throat.
Jubilee shot her a concerned look and Rogue yelled, “Pesky healing factor!”
Jubilee put a hand to her ear, indicating she couldn’t hear her. Rogue feigned a gun-shot to her head, followed by her eyes popping wide open as though revived. Jubilee waved her hands at her in understanding, laughing hysterically and Rogue laughed along with her, passing the bottle to the beautiful Asian woman who took a swig of the clear, tasteless alcohol.
Rogue looked around, pleased to see that most of club-goers were fixated on the two of them. It felt so good to be away from the mansion, she never realized how much of a prisoner she felt until tonight, grabbing one of the bars and giving it a good shake. Enjoying the attention, she began to dance, throwing her hands in the air as she swung her hair about, many of the patrons below shouting out to her as she rotated her body to the blasting music.
The bouncers stood directly below them to prevent anyone from entering the private booth, their massive arms folded across equally impressive chests. The Wolverine was quite clear. If anyone came near these women, it was their heads on a platter. They weren’t going anywhere.
Rogue drank heavily over the next few hours, sometimes pouring alcohol into the open mouths of the crowd below, but mostly pouring it down her own. She was feeling good, finally able to hang on to a good buzz, and she danced and danced, becoming mesmerized by the lights that remained focused on her and Jubilee as she maintained a copious amount of alcohol in her system.
Jubilee collapsed onto the purple leather sofa that lined the back of the VIP booth, realizing that maybe she had a little too much to drink. She blinked several times before being able to focus on Rogue, barely aware of someone climbing into the cage. Rogue grabbed the intruder and threw him onto the ground, her knee jamming into his throat before he could inadvertently touch her skin. She smiled when the young man could only stare at her, obviously infatuated. Rogue pulled him up and passed him down towards the bouncers who quickly became overwhelmed by the surge of the crowd, some now clambering to enter the cage as well.
“Shit!” Jubilee exclaimed, jumping up and seeing the commotion below them, “We need to get out of here, chica. Pronto.”
Rogue eyed the four empty bottles on the floor of the cage balefully, agreeing. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was too drunk. Way too drunk to be able to make it through the mob of people underneath her, several of whom were already hanging off the bottom of the cage.
Jubilee climbed out onto the top of the booth, holding her hand out to Rogue to follow. Rogue did so, unsteadily, and Jubilee barely caught her hand in time when she almost lost her footing, the chanting crowd below lifting their arms eagerly to grab her. Jubilee sighed resignedly as she pulled Rogue up to sit next to her. Time to call in the cavalry.
“Come and get us elf!” she yelled into her tele-link, wrapping an arm around her inebriated friend. Rogue meanwhile was clinging to the bars for support, the crowd beneath her frenzied. She giggled. This was funny.
Suddenly, the loud music of the club vanished completely, as did its flashing lights. Rogue found herself in the foyer of the X-mansion, the smell of sulphur combined with the dizzying effect of teleporting making her fall to her knees, sickened.
“Oh crap, chica!” Jubilee’s voice came from the side of her, sympathetic but amused as well. “You look awful!”
Rogue leaned forward on all fours and closed her eyes to stop the vicious spinning the floor was currently engaged in. “Fuck, Jubes. I’m gonna hurl.”
A low growl came from somewhere above her. “Goddamnit, Marie! What the hell were you thinking?”
Uh oh, Rogue thought, her mouth lining itself with thick saliva that preceded the bile that was coming up fast through her esophagus. She wasn’t feeling too good.
Swallowing, she kept her head down and managed to gasp out, “My name - you fucking asshole - is Rogue.” And then she moaned before lying down across the floor.