Act III
1.
Remy gazed at Hodge across his desk. He wondered how long he'd have to put up with the scumbag who made all their lives so miserable. Hodge had risen to power through his association with the Friends of Humanity, who'd gone from a fringe group of anti-mutant fanatics to a powerful player in the politics of the United States. Hodge had been the one who organized them, lifted them out of a mode of operation that consisted solely of random violence against mutants and turned them into a political party, swaying people with his charisma and his promises of safety from mutants.
The Cajun shuffled some papers, waiting for the other man to tell him what he'd come here to say. Sometimes Remy hated himself, his life, what he'd become. He thought back to the night before, the disdain in Storm's eyes as she looked at him. They'd been lovers once, and while she forgave him his sordid past (she'd been a thief herself, on the streets of Cairo, long ago), she couldn't forgive his collaboration with the government that had killed her friends. She never realized that he couldn't forgive himself, either. It wasn't the first time a venture had spun out of his control, but it was the worst, and he swore it'd be the last.
"I strongly suspect that Toynbee left the letters of transit with Mr. Logan. I suggest you search that bar immediately and thoroughly," Hodge was saying.
Remy said, "If he has the letters, he's much too smart to let you find them there."
"You give him too much credit," Hodge said dismissively. "He's just a bare-knuckle brawler who got lucky."
"Logan may look like a brute, but he's smarter than you think," Remy muttered.
"What was that?" Hodge asked sharply.
"He's a dangerous man in a fight," Remy lied smoothly.
Hodge shrugged. "Even he can't take on a troop of well-trained soldiers." He thought for a moment. "As for Drake -- he should be watched twenty-four hours a day."
"Already taken care of, mon ami. You will be happy to know he is on his way here at this very moment," Remy reassured him.
2.
Rogue and Bobby pushed their way through the crowd in the lobby of the building. Everyone wanted to see Señor LeBeau because he controlled the exit visas. Rogue saw a young couple, about the same age as her and Bobby, talking animatedly with a man in a uniform. The couple were obvious mutants, the woman beautiful with dead-white skin and hair and red eyes, the man with tan fur and a tail.
"There's nothing we can do," the officer told them. The man led the woman away as she cried in his arms.
Bobby's hand on her arm got her attention. "Rogue, let's go." His limp was more pronounced this morning -- the humidity wasn't good for his knee.
They entered Remy's office and he stood and bowed slightly. "I am delighted to see you both. Did you have a good night's rest?"
"I slept like a baby," Bobby replied.
"That's strange. No one is supposed to sleep well in Tijuana." He chuckled, but no one else joined in.
"Can we just get on with it?" Bobby asked coldly.
"But of course. Please sit down," Remy replied, indicating the two empty chairs.
They sat.
"Very well, Mr. Drake," Hodge began, his voice as cold as Bobby's had been. "Let us speak frankly. You are an escaped prisoner of the United States of America. So far, you have been fortunate in eluding us. You have reached Tijuana. It is my duty to see that you stay here, or are brought back to the United States and returned to prison. While the extradition treaty is still in process, we cannot take you out of the country, but when it passes, you will be mine."
"Whether or not you succeed is, of course, the question," Bobby said smoothly.
"Not at all. Governor LeBeau must sign every exit visa." He looked at Remy. "Monsieur, do you think it's possible that Mr. Drake will receive a visa?"
"Mais non, I'm afraid not," Remy said, shaking his head. "My regrets, Bobby."
"Hey, maybe I'll like it in Tijuana," Bobby said.
"And the lady?" Hodge asked.
"Don't you worry 'bout me, sugar," Rogue said with false sweetness.
"Is that it?" Bobby asked.
"Don't be in such a rush, young man. You have a bit of time. You may be here in Tijuana indefinitely -- or you may leave for Vancouver tomorrow -- on one condition."
Rogue gasped and Bobby leaned back in his chair. "And that is?"
"You know the other leaders of the underground movement in New York, St. Louis, Chicago, Dallas, San Francisco."
"Even in DC," Bobby said with quiet pride.
"Yes, even in DC. If you will give me their names and their exact locations, you will have your visa tomorrow morning."
"And the honor of having served your country," Remy interjected, though Hodge didn't get the irony.
"I was in an American internment camp for a year. That's honor enough for a lifetime," Bobby replied, stretching his injured leg before him.
"You'll give us the names?" Hodge pressed.
"If I didn't give them to you in a concentration camp where you had more persuasive methods," he tapped his knee, "at your disposal, what makes you think I'll give them to you now?" He leaned forward suddenly, blue eyes burning with icy conviction. "And what if you do track them all down and kill them? What if you murdered all of us? From every corner of the globe, hundreds, thousands, would take our place. Even the American government can't kill that fast."
"Mr. Drake, you have a reputation for eloquence that I now understand. But in one respect, you are mistaken. You said the enemies of America could be replaced. But there is one exception. No one could take your place in the event anything... unfortunate should occur while you were trying to escape."
"You wouldn't dare interfere with me here, Mr. Secretary. Mexico is still a sovereign nation. Any violation of sovereignty would reflect badly on you and on the States."
"By the way, Bobby," Remy said, "last night you were looking for Toad?" Bobby nodded, wondering what his old friend was up to. "You had a message for him?"
"Nothing important," Bobby replied nonchalantly.
"That's good, since he's dead." He noted their lack of response. "I suppose someone at Sam's told you what happened." They nodded. He sighed.
"Are we done here?" Bobby said abruptly, rising.
"For now," Hodge replied.
"See you around," Bobby said, walking out, his hand on Rogue's elbow.
They bumped into the officer they'd seen earlier, talking to the albino woman. "Excuse me, Señor," he said, "another visa problem has come up."
Remy stood and smoothed his jacket. "Show her in."
"Yes, sir."
3.
That afternoon...
Logan walked through the flea market and entered La Café just as Magneto emerged with the tan-furred mutant and his albino bride. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Crane. But it's possible you can negotiate with LeBeau."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Lehnsherr," Mr. Crane said, leading his wife away. Logan looked at her appreciatively, and her expression grew thoughtful.
"Hello, Erik."
"Good afternoon, Logan. Are you going to be friendly or is this one of those days where you try to kill me?" he asked genially. A man who can control metal is the only one unafraid of the man with the metal claws.
"I'm just here to pick up my shipment," Logan grumbled.
"No rush. I'll have it sent over. Sit. Drink with me."
"I never drink this early," he lied. "And every time you send my shipment over, it's just a little short."
Magneto laughed. "Carrying charges, my dear boy, carrying charges. Please, sit down. Have some coffee. I need to talk to you, anyway."
Logan sat and scowled at Erik. He'd learned it was easier to play nice with ol' Magnethead, because otherwise, he'd end up splayed out on the ground and have to listen to him anyway. Maybe he was getting soft, but it was more comfortable to sit at a table.
They were silent as a waiter brought a silver coffee pot and two mugs. Erik poured the coffee and said, "The news about dear Toad upset me very much."
"You old hypocrite," Logan growled, but not unpleasantly. He'd developed an odd fondness for his old enemy. ~It's true,~ he reflected, ~war makes for strange bedfellows.~ "You don't feel any sorrier about Toad than I do."
Magneto eyed him closely. "Of course not. What upsets me is that he's dead and no one knows where those letters of transit are."
"Practically no one," Logan corrected.
"If I could lay my hands on those letters, I'd make a fortune. And be able to get out of this stinkhole of a town."
"So could I, and I'm a lousy businessman."
Erik smiled. "Yes, but you're much more intelligent than I ever gave you credit for. You run rings around Victor." He paused for a moment, remembering another fallen comrade. Shaking his head and returning to the matter at hand, he said, "I have a proposition for whomever has those letters, Logan. I will handle the entire transaction, get rid of the letters, take all the risk, for just a small percentage."
"And the carrying charges?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"But of course there will be a few... incidental expenses. That is the proposition I have for whomever has the letters."
"I'll mention it when I see him," Logan said dryly.
Erik put his coffee cup down and leaned forward. "I'll put my cards on the table, Wolverine. I think you know where those letters are."
Logan snorted. "You and everyone else in town." He looked out the window and saw Rogue and Bobby walking through the market. Bobby leaned close and whispered in her ear. She smiled and he walked toward the café. "Anyway, that's why I came over. I wanted to give Gambit and his men time to ransack the bar."
"Don't be a fool, Logan. Take me into your confidence. You need a partner," Lehnsherr said persuasively.
Logan paid no attention. He stared out the window at Rogue, who was holding up a sheer scarf at one of the booths in the market.
He stood. "I'll see ya 'round, Mags." Magneto curled his lip in distaste at the nickname, but said nothing as Logan walked to the door.
Bobby came in as Logan was exiting. "He's at that table," Logan said, jerking his head toward Magneto.
"Thanks," Bobby replied, puzzled.
4.
Rogue was browsing through the scarves while Bobby talked to Magneto about procuring exit visas. She didn't think she could see the old man again without trying to kill him, even now.
She held up a square of olive cotton shot with gold thread. It was pretty sheer, and she'd always been fond of green.
"You will not find a treasure like this in all of Mexico, señorita. Seven hundred pesos," the vendor said, smiling at her.
"You're bein' cheated," Logan said, walking up behind her.
She looked at him briefly and nodded politely, as if they were passing acquaintances. She turned back to the vendor. "Thanks, but I'm just lookin'."
"Ah, the señorita is a friend of Logan's. For friends of Logan we have a small discount. Did I say seven hundred pesos? You can have it for three hundred."
"About last night--" Logan started.
"It doesn't matter," Rogue said, still not looking at him.
"Ah, for special friends of Logan's, we have a special discount. One hundred pesos."
"Your story had me a little confused. Or maybe it was the bourbon." He shook his head. "I had a lot in a short time."
The vendor was still trying. "I have some tablecloths and linens --"
"Thank you, but I'm really not interested," Rogue said.
"Please! One minute. Wait!" the vendor said, running to the back of the booth.
Rogue pretended to be interested in the scarves lying on the counter.
"Why did you come back? To tell me why you ran out on me?"
"Yes."
"Well, you can tell me now. I'm sober."
"I don't think so, Logan."
"Why not? I think I'm entitled. After all, I got stuck with three train tickets and it took me and 'Ro two weeks to get out of that hellhole once it was occupied."
She sniffed and faced him. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. I never wanted you to miss the train. But last night, you looked at me with such hatred... the Logan I knew never looked at me like that. Ever.
"So, I'll be leaving Tijuana soon and we'll never see each other again. We knew very little about each other when we were in love in San Francisco, and even less for the few days we knew each other back in New York. If we leave it that way, maybe we'll remember those days -- the good times -- and not Tijuana, not last night."
"Did you run out on me because you couldn't take it? Knowin' what it would be like, hidin' from the police, runnin' all the time?" he pressed.
"You can believe that if you want to." Her eyes fell and she sniffed again.
"Well, I'm not runnin' anymore, Marie. I'm settled now. I live above a bar, sure, but it's mine -- walk up a flight. I'll be expecting you."
She bit her lower lip, then, "What about Jean?"
He laughed harshly. "What about her? Scott is dead. She needs someone to look after her. 'Ro and I--"
"Is 'Ro fucking her?"
"Jesus, Marie, what a question." But he could tell he was blushing, just a little. Dammit, she was the one who'd left him for the Popsicle. She didn't have any right to question his behavior.
"Since when did you get all delicate, Logan?"
He ignored the question. "Remember, one flight up. I'll be expecting you."
"No, Logan. You don't understand. Bobby is my husband -- and he was, even when we met in San Francisco."
She walked into the café, leaving him staring after her, stunned and unbelieving.
5.
Rogue joined her husband at the table with Magneto in the café. Even facing him would be easier than continuing to talk to -- torment, really -- Logan. She'd wanted to hurt him, the way he'd hurt her last night, but the look on his face when she told him just about broke her heart all over again. She couldn't bear it.
Erik smiled absently at her. "I was just telling Robert --" he broke off and took a good look at her. "My dear child, how are you?" he asked. "No hard feelings, I hope."
"Don't push me, Erik," she said in a low, hard voice.
"Well, as I was saying, I am not able to help Mr. Drake. I am an influential man here in Tijuana, but it would be worth my life to help him. And I like my life, circumscribed as it is."
"Still willing to kill for the cause, but never die for it, eh, Erik?" she taunted.
"Rogue," Bobby warned.
Magneto's eyes hardened. "I am willing to investigate getting an exit visa for you, girl. Don't be insolent."
"You mean for me to go on alone?"
"Yes, you alone would go," Lehnsherr confirmed.
"I'll stay here and keep trying. Jubes thinks --" Bobby said.
"We might as well be frank, Robert," Magneto interrupted. "Your washed-up X-Men friends won't be able to help you. Not even the Gambit. It would take a miracle to get you out of Tijuana. And the Americans have outlawed miracles."
"Anyway, we're only interested in two visas," Rogue said.
"Please, Rogue, don't be hasty," Bobby pleaded.
But she was adamant. "No, Bobby. No."
"You two will want to discuss this," Magneto said diplomatically. "I will be at the bar." And he suited his actions to his words.
"Rogue, please. I won't let you stay here. You must get to Canada. Believe me, I'll join you, somehow."
"But Bobby, if the situation were reversed, if I had to stay and there were only a visa for one, would you take it?" She stroked his hand gently.
"Yes," he replied unconvincingly.
Rogue smiled. She didn't believe him for a moment. "I see. When I had trouble getting out of Los Angeles, why didn't you leave me there? And when I was sick for two weeks in Albuquerque, and you were in danger every minute, why didn't you leave me then?"
"I meant to," he said, "but something always came up." He raised her gloved hand to his lips. "I love you so much, Rogue. Without you --"
She smiled, and even at the bar, Magneto felt the warmth of it. "Your secret is safe with me, Iceman," she teased. She glanced toward the bar. "He's waiting for our answer."
They rose and walked over to him. "We've decided that, for now, we'll go on looking for two exit visas. Thanks, though." And he stuck out his hand.
Erik shrugged. "Such an honorable young man you are. Quite a credit to Charles," he said sadly. "Good luck. And be careful." His eyes flicked toward the bazaar. "You know you're being followed?"
Bobby smiled. "Of course. It becomes second nature."
Magneto looked at Rogue again. "I think that in one respect, you are a very lucky young man, Robert Drake. I am moved to make one more suggestion, though why, I don't know. It cannot possibly profit me. But for the cause of mutants everywhere," he sighed. "Have you heard about Toad and the letters of transit?"
"Yes," Bobby replied warily.
"Those letters were not found on him when they arrested him."
There was a moment of silence as that sunk in.
"Do you know where they are?" Rogue asked.
"Not for sure, my dear, but I would bet a great deal of money that Toad left them with the Wolverine."
Bobby noticed that Rogue's face fell. "Logan?" he asked.
"He's a tough customer, that Logan. One never knows what he'll do, or why. But it is worth a chance." He smiled disingenuously. "And he always did have a soft spot for this young lady," he said, flicking her white locks with a careful finger.
Bobby flushed at that, but kept his voice level. "Thank you very much. Take care."
"You are most welcome."
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