Dark Side of the Moon
By: InnerFathoms
Setting: A few months post-'Ascension'
Summary: On Rogue's eighteenth birthday, she is unexpectedly taken out to enjoy a night on the town. Upon choosing a place to dine, Rogue and Remy run into Scott and Jean, reluctantly accepting an invitation to join the couple for a double date. The outing started innocently enough...but a girl named Carol Danvers, a newly-formed mutant persecution group called the Friends of Humanity, and the death of an X-men at the hands of someone 'sinister' only begins to scratch the surface that is the metaphorical iceberg bearing down on the mutants of Bayville. With Apocalypse gone, other mutants are willing to step out and come forth from both sides of the line, while the prophetic glimpses observed by Professor Charles Xavier slowly fortify into a reality. Thus begins the longest night of their lives, only a prelude to the darkest hours yet to come.
Discretions: A great deal of canon characters and plots are prepared to be incorporated into the story. Though I will likely take a few liberties, as the Evo world and comicverse differ greatly, I will try to stay true in many aspects. Most changes I will list either here or in the Author's Note at the bottom.
Pairings: Rogue/Remy, Scott/Jean, Scott/Rogue hints (New and forementioned couples will be listed and grouped by chapters.)
Genre-Rating: Romance/Action, Adventure/Angst-Teen
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or their histories, as they are licensed to Marvel and I'm not making any profits.
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Chapter I: Acquaintances
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The restaurant off 5th Street North in downtown Bayville looked even more crowded from the inside than the outside. Rogue noted this without much effort, finding more important things to keep her mind on…and her hands on.
A first date made some girls nervous, klutzy, or worse, but to her, a first date was both new and exciting, albeit just a twinge of anxiety. Who could blame her, the girl that could not touch…at least, not in the way of intimacy? Though clichéd, the thought of being dropped off at home, well before midnight, sharing an innocent kiss under the door stoop and beneath the moonlight had a simple charm. Of course, Rogue was far from anything resembling that scenario, given the fact that she lived in the same house as her date, that her date would, given the chance, do much more than just kiss, and the obvious, plain as day fact that even an innocent kiss, the slightest peck, would knock the potential beau right off his feet. No night would be complete without your date's thoughts, feelings, and memories spinning through your head like a warped carousel.
It was, truly and foremost, Rogue's first real date, better late than never. On her eighteenth birthday, of all days. However, could she really ask for a better date?
Pausing at the front of the restaurant to allow the flow of people exiting the building to pass in front of them, Rogue used a sideways glance to size up her man of the night with the utmost discreetness. He was tall, almost topping her by half a foot, slim but muscular with sinewy muscles rippling beneath his tight clothing. His exposed skin was much tanner than hers, and his tousled mane shined dark amber in the glow of the overhead lamp beneath the restaurant's awning. The shadows created by the light framed his face and accentuated the contours of his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones, though it was his eyes that stood out more prominent than any other facial feature. Scarlet irises bathing in black pools; they were haunting, arousing, and mystifying, all at once. They were the only tell tale aspect that Rogue's date was a mutant, and they were easy to conceal with any pair of sunglasses or shades. Her date wasn't like that though, didn't prefer to cover up who he really was, didn't feel the need to conform to the rest of society's normalcy. Or maybe he was just lazy, or maybe he thought shades looked stupid with the night sky coasting in from above. It wasn't a question that itched her mind if not asked, and truthfully, she wouldn't want those eyes to be hidden. One smoldering look could melt her defenses and inhibitions, but the opportunity to take in such dark beauty was worth the risk.
As the last of the restaurant's exodus subsided, Rogue's date held the door for her and allowed her passage with a wink. She gave a dubious raise of an eyebrow, but then moved on by anyhow. The narrowness of the threshold forced her to brush by him, her shoulder whispering against the curve of his chest muscles, his musky, backwater scent filling her nostrils. Aftershave and body spray followed, but neither was as captivating as his natural cologne. He exhaled into her ear as she slipped by him, his hot breath tickling her and sending a shiver down her back. The door closed behind them and Rogue's date was right on her heels, herding her forwards and towards the hostess's stand in the makeshift foyer of the restaurant.
The hostess stood behind her designated stand, tall and slender with an attractive, baby-cute face and honey-colored tresses falling onto her shoulders. She was dressed in cashmere and denim, a stylish combination that fitted her. Two menus appeared in her hands and a smile garnished her pretty face. The name tag read Carol.
"How are you folks doing tonight? Just the two of you?"
"Yes," Rogue answered, smiling politely.
"Table or booth?"
Rogue chose the former and heard no protests from her date. A succulent smile adorned Carol's soft features as she guided her arm in the direction for them to move, leading them into the masses of restaurant goers. They weaved between tables and headed towards the back of the building, receiving a few too many but still inevitable gasps from other patrons. Rogue knew not everyone could appreciate those red-on-black eyes, and she didn't blame the people for mistaking their appeal. The majority of people don't like what they don't understand, and fear of the unknown fueled most of the mutant-haters in the increasingly turbulent city of Bayville. The Professor's infrequent reminders of the fellow Bayville denizens' attitudes had augmented into constant warnings, and his inquiries often left Rogue feeling bitter towards the general populace of the town. Obviously, saving the world just wasn't good enough for these people.
"Is this good?" Carol the ever-smiling hostess asked, and Rogue was about to respond with a "yes", as the section of booths was dimly lit with an amber glow and far enough away from the mainstream crowd of the building, when something caught in her throat.
Carol gave her a quizzical look, but Rogue's focus was instead on the couple in the booth juxtaposed to their desire booth, less than four feet of aisle space separating the two tables. A brunette and a redhead sat to the right, submerged in deep conversation before their drinks had even arrived. With a heavy heart weighed down by anxious expectations, Rogue counted the seconds before the redhead turned to her left and spotted silent Rogue standing only a foot away.
Jean Grey's eyes lit up like the stars outside. "Rogue!"
It sounded like a cheer, as if the Mississippian's presence was the highlight of the night. Scott Summers was joining the long-since dubbed "Miss Perfect", a tiny smirk growing wider as his ruby gaze landed on Rogue.
Rogue cringed inside as her stomach flip-flopped. Days of her crush on the preppy hunk turned macho leader had long since past, yet they were still not completely forgotten. Though, the man standing behind her would likely clear away any residual feelings towards Scott.
"…Scott, Jean," she managed, adding a weak smile to her sorry excuse for a salutation. Her date stood behind her and out of the couple's line of sight, which was probably a good thing for the moment.
Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, alias Swamp Rat, et alias the Cajun, had been the least fitting recruit to the wave of new mutants to join the X-men post-Apocalypse. The newest members included Angel, Colossus, Havok, a returning Boom Boom, Jubilee, and Wolfsbane, and also the loveable Louisiana man himself. The supposedly reformed thief had immediately hit it off with newly-appointed field team leader Cyclops, and not in the friendly kind of way.
They were polar opposites, one serious, strict, and competitive; the other humorous, laid-back, and cunning. They traded quips more than anything else, and bore a relationship akin to that of Wolverine and Sabretooth, sans the continuous growling and property damage. Danger Room sessions were a no-go for Gambit at first, until he realized he could find ways to upstand his visor-wearing leader. The Cajun mutant worked better alone, always had and always will, he'd stated more than once. Mr. Teamwork couldn't function with a loner, and the two constantly rubbed each other the wrong way, mostly during the DR sessions. And being the most charming of the males, Remy was quick to serenade a certain redheaded telepath, simply to provoke her beau and test Cyclops's temper limits. More than once they'd gotten into a brawl, Gambit being the only guy besides Avalanche to get inside Cyclops's head and awaken his reckless, rash side. Jean often times played peacekeeper between the boys, while Rogue ranked among eager spectators.
As long as Gambit was occupied with irking Cyclops or charming the pants off other femmes around the mansion, Rogue had peace. All other times, he was around her, worse than a stalker, clingier than a younger sibling. For all purposes of keeping her sanity, Rogue had finally agreed to let the Cajun charmer take her out for a night on the town. After her acceptance, he had casually informed her that it had taken one hundred-eighty-five "no's" before finally receiving a "yes."
Oddly, she had never imagined him as the one to do the asking. Remy seemed like the kind of guy who always received the begging and the pleas from the women who wanted him. A man so confident in his appearance and in the attraction he wielded, and such a cool demeanor, did not compute with Rogue. Maybe it was because she played hard to get, and the Cajun liked the challenge. Still, something wasn't settling right in Rogue's mind, or her gut…And a girl's intuition could be her saving grace.
"Rogue. Gambit." Scott's eyebrows disappeared beneath his shades, a sign of a furrowing brow and disapproval. His failure to use Remy's real name instead of his codename was the least unfriendly thing he could do. There had been plenty worse.
"Summers. Nice ta see dat y' still got dat stick up yo' ass, secure as ever," Remy said, his tone casual and just the right pitch of nonchalance to draw a sneer from his target.
"Hi, Rogue. Hi, Remy." Jean beamed after giving a concerned glance at Scott; her efforts at being friendly were not well-received from her beau across the table. Ever the pacifist, the redhead was quick to bat an eye and avoid any conflict, confrontation, or clash whenever possible. The potency of her powers, tied in with her emotions, was probably what led her to consistently avoid disturbances. People-pleaser or not, she did have a lot to be cautious about; sessions with the Professor had begun only days after the fall of Apocalypse. Somehow, Rogue believed, the mutant patriarch had seen some distressing visions while under Apocalypse's mind control, and Jean had popped up in some disconcerting context within the montage.
Having noticed the hesitancy of their hostess, Jean blurted, "They can sit with us!"
"But Jean-----" Scott stammered, silenced by his girlfriend's dismissive wave.
"Oh…alright, that's cool." Stepping in between Rogue and Remy, Carol's radiant smile faded a peg as her eyes darted from Scott's ruby quartz shades to Remy's inhuman eyes. She placed the menus on the table and retreated a step. "A waitress will be with you shortly."
"Thanks," Jean said, but the hostess had already pivoted on her heels and initiated a brisk pace of walking, disappearing from around the bend of the booth section in a matter of seconds. Rogue frowned, not surprised, but still curious towards the girl's reaction.
As Scott and Jean slid inwards on their seats to accompany the growth of their party from two to four, the telekinetic asked Remy, "So, what's your secret?"
He mustered a confused frown and followed it with a zesty smirk for good measure. Concealing a blush, Jean's eyelashes fluttered. Scott's face flustered, too, though not with the cherry color of shyness. His nostrils flared and he glared through his fiery lenses.
"I mean," Jean reiterated, "how did you get Rogue here to go out on a date?"
"We're not," Rogue spat, hushed and hurried. After glancing across the table at Remy, she was the one to conceal a blush this time. "Ah meant that we're just doin' an experiment ta see where things might go."
"Y' ain't kiddin' anyone, cherie." Remy tilted his chin and nodded in Rogue's direction while looking at the other couple. "Guess who's turnin' eighteen t'night."
Jean gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, Rogue, I can't believe we-----"
"Left your present in the car," Scott interrupted, giving an awkward smirk. Jean's head spun in his direction, her eyes wide, but Scott gave her the notion to calm down, and they exchanged facial expressions and wordless innuendo until Rogue intervened, ignoring the pang of hurt setting into her heart.
"Ya don' have ta hide anything. Ah know y'all forgot about it." Scott and Jean paused, their heads turning in Rogue's direction, their mouths agape with guilt. "Really, it's fine. Kitty bought me a nice blouse an' Dr. McCoy gave me a free physical and wrote me a sweet poem. Ororo's gift was a rack of magnolias ta remind me of home, and Logan handed me the most comfortable and stylish leather gloves Ah've ever seen." She stalled a moment to savor the looks on Scott and Jean's faces. They were priceless as ever. "Oh, an' the Professor wrote me a check for a thousand dollars." Jaws hit the table and Rogue giggled. "Sorry, only kiddin'. He did buy me a very nice necklace. So ya see, Ah already got enough wonderful gifts from plenty of people. Don' feel like either of ya are obligated ta do the same."
"We can at least pick up the dinner tab," Jean conceded, her tone apologetic.
"Bon (Good), 'cause Remy ain't pocketin' s'much cash lately. Ex-thieves don' make s'much as they used t'."
"We'll split the bill," Scott said. "I'm sure even an ex-thief could pay for his own meal. I'll cover you, Rogue."
"It's the least we could do," Jean added, squeezing Rogue's gloved hand in both of her own. "I just feel so stupid for forgetting. I'm usually not this dense."
"It's no big," Rogue chided, reaching for the menu. "Nobody's perfect, Jeannie."
Rogue hid a smug smile behind the menu, shielding it from Jean's view. It wasn't everyday the girl messed up something. Things had changed and Rogue reminded herself not to be so self-righteous; Jean was different now, more easy-going than she used to be. Besides, being sanctimonious only left a nasty taste in Rogue's mouth, especially when it was directed at someone as selfless as Jean Grey.
Their waitress finally arrived at the table and took orders. She fell far short in the department of giddiness and smiles where Carol the hostess reigned. A bored but restrained look crossed her face for most of the exchange, but she was efficient enough to write down their drink orders and inform them that she would be back momentarily to take their dinner orders.
As soon as she left, Jean gave an excited whisper. "I heard the food here is supposed to be spectacular!"
"It's got great ambiance," Scott mumbled, resting his head in his hand.
"No, really, it's supposed to be great!"
"Why?" Rogue drawled, "'cause of that mutants welcome sign out in the window?"
Jean sighed, resigned to studying her own menu. "At least I haven't heard anyone cry muties as long as we've been here."
Some of the more fearless, angry citizens of Bayville had discovered how tarnishing the word sounded, how belittling and offending it rolled off the tongue. Mutant sounded almost scientific or possibly polite. Mutie sounded slang and derogatory. The news anchors, newspapers, and politicians chose the latter term. Mayor Edward Kelly and almost everyone else in town felt that the word mutie was more suitable for Bayville's mutant population.
Once the drinks came, Remy nudged Scott in the ribs and asked, "Watchin' yo' weight, Summers?"
He indicated the glass of water with a slice of lemon in front of Scott.
Scott nudged him back hard enough to draw a quiet gasp from the other guy and responded with a tempered no.
Rogue stifled a laugh that would've been at Scott's expense, but she left all the provoking to Remy, as he was more than apt for the job.
Feeling obligated to mend a bruised ego, Jean reached out and touched her boyfriend's arm. "Actually, Scott's been working out a little extra lately."
But he was having none of her help, as it would lessen his chances of recapturing his loss of manly pride. Instead, Scott told Jean to switch seats with Remy.
"Why?"
"Just do it, Jean."
The redhead's back stiffened and her eyes narrowed. Despite her rising indignation, she complied, following Rogue out of the booth so Remy could take a spot across from Scott.
With an elbow propped up on the table and a hand extended upwards, Scott challenged the other man to a good ol' arm wrestling match. "Loser buys everyone's dinner."
"Men," Jean hissed, and walked off to fume and regain her composure. Remy applied a lopsided grin for Rogue's pleasure, and she ushered him to compete with Scott's challenge.
"Deal," Remy said and placed his elbow on the table and his hand near Scott's. His sly expression became solemn; they grasped each other's hand and initiated their struggle for strength and power, with the cost of a large meal hanging over their heads as motivation to win.
Distractedly, Rogue's eyes caught onto Scott's bulging bicep, the strain of the match making it flex and protrude a vein. The muscle stretched the fabric of his shirt sleeve, the expansion almost too large for the thin material to hold. Rogue remembered to blink, quickly shaking her head to stir the weird thoughts. She placed her hands on her thighs and looked down, a stray white bang falling in between her eyes. She looked up and swiped it away, contemplating on getting a new hairstyle. The sleeve had been pushed up by the expanding muscle, revealing more of the laboring bicep, slightly tanned skin stretched taut over it.
Rogue dropped her head a second time and allowed the hair framing her face to conceal the redness in her cheeks. What was taking Jean so long? Couldn't she hurry back and end the macho display?
She focused on Remy's arm, the skin tanner and the muscle less bulging but more defined. Disgusted with herself for even considering an attraction she still had for Scott Summers, Rogue forwent denial and settled into pensiveness.
A trash can crashed outside.
The noise jarred Rogue from her thoughts and caused her to jump, while the two boys were oblivious to all things around them. Being so close to the back of the building, Rogue was able to hear faint voices in the alleyway adjacent to the restaurant. The myriad of chatter, clattering plates and scraping silverware, of laughter and chomping mouths prevented her from discerning much else.
No other foreign sounds entered Rogue's ears, yet their absence was even more disturbing. Her intuition kicked into overdrive, as blood pounded in her head and queasiness rocked her stomach. The new leather gloves suddenly felt itchy and uncomfortable.
Rogue glanced to her left, towards the front of the building, and spotted a blonde head bobbing past the other booths and tables. Carol turned in her direction for a singular moment, frozen, and then ducked out of view.
A guttural grunt came from behind her. "Ha!" The back of Remy's hand banged the tabletop in defeat. "Guess who's buying everyone din-----"
-----The explosion ripped through the side of the building, collapsing part of the ceiling and spraying debris like shrapnel. As Rogue opened her mouth to scream, the booth imploded behind her and she was thrust forward like a rag doll, her hip smashing against the wooden table but not stopping her from slamming into the opposite side of the booth, as Remy and Scott disappeared from her line of sight. A fractured moment later, she was numb and staring along the floor, a heavy weight bearing down on her back and restricting her breathing. Dust collected in her throat and something slick touched her cheek. She could not move her head. Her vision swam and a burning pain erupted from near her waist. Her entire world was deathly quiet, her hearing deafened by the calamity and sheer intensity of the detonation.
Then she heard the screams…
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Author's Note: And so begins a tale with much promise and of what I hope could be considered epic-proportions! You'll just have to wait and see. Though these two couples will be the forerunners, new and old couples will be introduced eventually and will gain screen (written?) time as well. This chapter marks the first appearance of Carol Danvers (as if it wasn't that obvious) and we'll see how she fits in soon. And for certain purposes, this is clarifying that Carol is not Ms. Marvel (i.e. she's not a superhero yet). She's simply a dainty hostess (or is she?) For future chapters, I will be listing any changes or discrepancies here along with pointing out some of the canons. Expect lots of characters to appear! The spectrum for the X-men, the Brotherhood, non-affiliates, and comic characters should be huge, and I will try hard to give most characters respectful amounts of interest and side plots, but of course, some characters will probably jump to the front of the show. And please bear with me, as my comicverse knowledge is a little shaky, but I will research and try to explain any allusions or canon material here. And, as always, please review! Feedback is important to me and very much appreciated! Comment on the writing, the characters, the plot----anything! I respect any valuable time spent on reviewing, as it will tune me in on how this story is being received. Questions are welcomed as well, and I will try to keep things clear and un-confusing. Thank you to everyone reading this and please remember to review!
Next Time: 'Moans of agony and cries of anguish seeped inside her hollowness, filling it to the brim with rage that slowly ebbed away her restraints, causing her muscles to twitch and her head to ache. Jean groaned into her hand, placing it to her face and sniffling. The Professor had warned her of this. In times of turmoil, she was not to give in.'
Jean, Scott, and Remy's POV on the aftermath. The reasons behind the explosion and those who perpetrated it are revealed, next time in...Bombarded.
-fathoms-