A/N: Hello all! This is the sequel to Eluding Destiny, so a quick recap for those of you who are new (or have forgotten what's going on): Rogue absorbed Carol due to Mystique's interpretation of Irene Adler's diaries. Remy helped to bring her home, and is staying at the Institute, at least temporarily. The X-men are in possesion of three of the thirteen diaries, but the three they have fortell of a rather ominous future...
Also, your French translations:
chère, chèrie - dear, darling
bonsoir - good evening
fumée - smoke
Chapter One
Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix.
~ Christina Baldwin
The fire. The phoenix. The girl. Again and again and again. Professor Charles Xavier poured over the pages of Irene Adler's diary, scanning the foreign languages and encrypted messages that covered its yellowed pages. The words themselves were a mystery – meaningless jumbles of information. The pictures, though, he recognized far too easily.
The fire and the phoenix were clouded memories from his time under Apocalypse's control. They were images of a future too horrible to imagine, where his students – his children – were attacked from the inside, by someone they loved and trusted... one of their own.
The pictures of the girl were more painful yet. He knew her, and loved like a daughter. She could not be the raging woman in the pictures, not when he could remember her as a little thing with pigtails and bubble gum.
He closed the book and set it carefully on the edge of his desk. It was the knowing, he decided, that was the worst. It was having the future in your hands without having the power to change it.
A presence tickled the edge of his consciousness. "Please come in, Ororo."
The young woman let herself in, smiling gently. "Good afternoon, Charles." She glanced at the book on his desk. "Have you been at that all day?"
"Close to it." He checked the clock on the wall behind him. It was just past three. The students would be home soon, thrumming with energy now that summer was only a few short days away. "Ororo?"
"Hmm?" She took a half-empty mug of water off his desk and poured it gently over the hibiscus in the corner.
"Would you mind running the younger students through training tonight? I've neglected to assign them any, with Logan gone, but given the events of the last few days..." he trailed off, shaking his head as a smile tugged at his lips. "I feel it would be prudent to let them burn off some excess energy."
"My greenhouse will never be the same after what happened yesterday," Ororo sighed good-naturedly, propping a hand on her hip. "Who would have thought I would have to fireproof my plants? And no, I don't mind. Just the younger ones?"
"Yes." He found himself distracted, thinking of Scott and Jean and the others whose faces appeared constantly in Destiny's diaries.
"You know, maybe you should come down and eat something. It would do you good to get away from those books."
"You don't trust them."
"I don't trust any person who says that the future is set in stone. And," she added coolly, "I also don't trust Mystique." Ororo folded her arms, her gaze hardening. It was the same uneasiness he had seen in her eyes as a pickpocket in Cairo. He had learned long ago to trust her judgment when she wore that particular expression.
"Mystique's credibility – and Destiny's, for that matter – are some of the many factors that need to be considered in this mess," he sighed. "Shall we go to the kitchen? I can work on the diaries more tonight."
Ororo closed the door behind them and walked next to him down the hall. "We should make sure the restaurant has our reservations set for Saturday. And," she continued, "the principal of the high school called late last night, while we were out. He'd like to remind us to keep an eye on our students. We should probably check to make sure Rogue's transcript is set. After what happened with Jean and Scott's graduation... well, I wouldn't put it past the school board to try and keep her from graduating."
He nodded slowly. "It would be best to look into that." They entered the sunny kitchen as the phone began to ring. "Would you get that, my dear? It's Logan."
"What would we do without you?"
"Get caller I.D.," he smiled.
Ororo laughed and made her way around the island to grab the phone. "Why hello, Logan. So nice of you to check in."
"Hardy-har, 'Ro. Charles let you know who was callin'?"
"Naturally. Are you coming home soon? Rogue was asking about you," she told him, tucking the phone against her shoulder as she wandered into the foyer. "She thinks you're going to miss her graduation."
He laughed shortly. "You can tell her I'll be there. She still hangin' out with Gambit?"
"Logan." Her voice was a gentle warning. "Let it be. I was a teenage girl once, you know. I've seen the way she looks at him. Let her have this. Besides, I thought you didn't mind their friendship."
"I thought she'd come to her senses. And I've been that guy, 'Ro. I know what he's thinkin' when he looks at her . He's trouble," he snarled, and she could practically see his scowl.
"He helped us," she reminded him.
"After he fought against us," he countered. Changing the subject he asked, "Has she been havin' nightmares still?"
There was a rough edge to his voice that she rarely heard. She let the argument drop. Doubtless it would come up again when he came back home to find the two Southerners friendlier than when he left. "Never as bad as in April. They were worse a couple weeks ago, but I've been checking on her since then, and her meetings with Charles have been going well. Lately she's been sleeping fairly soundly."
"Good," he said gruffly. "It was messin' with her training."
Ororo chuckled quietly, creating a dense cloud over the potted fern. It rained briefly and dissipated with a wave of her hand. "It's sweet that you care so much about her, Logan. She'll be very happy when you're back."
"Don't turn this mushy, weather witch."
"I wouldn't dream of it. See you in a few days?"
"Yep." He hung up without another word. Ororo went back to the kitchen to find her mentor lost in thought, staring out over the Institute grounds. She placed the phone back in its cradle and touched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Charles? Everything all right?"
He turned to her slowly, his eyes clouded with worry. "I can't help thinking we're not doing enough," he said softly.
"You mean about Destiny's prophecies?"
He nodded, tenting his fingers. "If what she saw is correct..." he trailed off, pained. "There is too much at stake."
Ororo squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "There's always tomorrow to work on the Diaries," she said gently, sensing the direction of his thoughts. "Even by Hank's best estimates, we have plenty time."
Charles nodded again, but stayed silent.
XxXxXxX
The second hand of the clock was moving so slowly Rogue was sure she saw it pause and twitch backwards. A quick glance around the room told her there were only a few students left finishing their exams... but silence would reign until the last pencil dropped. She cradled her chin in one hand, staring absently at the board around the white strands of hair that always fell in front of her eyes. Usually it was filled with French verbs and scribbled out phrases, but today – the one day she wouldn't have minded having something to look at – it was blank, with smudges of eraser dust marking where the words had been.
One minute. She resisted the urge to count down in her head. Kurt was tapping his feet against the back of her desk, roughly in time with the clock. Every few seconds he missed a beat. She gritted her teeth and looked out the window, taking in the bright afternoon sun and the cloudless sky. The sight of it was enough to help her relax. It would be a perfect afternoon for flying.
The bell began to trill, and all around whoops and groans filled the air. The stragglers turned in their tests, shrugging in defeat. Rogue straightened and slung her bag over one shoulder, waiting for the mass of people to leave the room. Kurt waited with her, leaning against an empty desk.
"Vhat did you think? Piece of cake?"
She shrugged. "Not quite. Easier than Ah thought it would be, though."
"Vell, vith all the time you spend vith Gambit..." Kurt trailed off suggestively as they slipped into the crowded, noisy hallway.
"What in the world are yah talkin' about?" Her voice took on a dangerous edge as they approached their lockers. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but it was hard when talking about Remy with Kurt was so... uncomfortable. She couldn't put a finger on what it was exactly, but whenever the former Acolyte entered their conversations, things went downhill quickly.
"Nothing," Kurt said quickly, "I just meant you must have picked up some French, because of how much he speaks it around you." He raked a hand through his hair, looking uneasy. "I didn't mean anything, Rogue."
"It's fahne," she said shortly. They both knew it wasn't. She switched out two notebooks for a hefty textbook and glared contemplatively at the inside of her locker. "What hours are testin' tomorrow?"
Kurt grimaced. "Five, six, and seven. Mostly sciences, math, and languages. You have Chem, right? I talked vith Sam today – apparently it's impossible."
Rogue shrugged and slammed her locker shut. "No point in studyin', then."
Kurt looked doubtful. "If you say so."
"Miss Darkholme!" Principal Kelly's voice rang out over the throng of students. Rogue winced. He betta not mean me. She looked over her shoulder. The principal narrowed his eyes and motioned for her to follow him. Mah last name is not Darkholme.
"Aw, crap."
"Vhat does Kelly vant?"
"Mah head on a platter." Rogue tugged at her gloves, scowling fiercely. Kurt had to force back a smile. Kelly had no idea what he was up against. When Rogue looked like that... trouble tended to follow.
"Should I get Kitty to vait for you? She's staying after school for a few minutes to vait for Ray and Roberto anyvay."
"Nah." She started making her way through the crowd. Over her shoulder she added, "Ah'll get mahself home before dinner. Just tell Storm and the Professor where Ah was, okay?"
Kurt lifted a hand and turned, disappearing almost immediately into the mass of students. Rogue made her way over to Principal Kelly. His gaze turned flinty as soon as they were close enough to make eye contact.
"Come with me." Rogue reluctantly followed him to his office. Whenever Kelly wanted to speak with any of the Institute kids, it was never a good thing.
"Sit down, Rogue." She plopped unceremoniously into one of the chairs facing his desk. Kelly fiddled with his thick-rimmed glasses, polishing them and putting them on, and then taking them off to polish them again. The silence was deafening. Rogue fidgeted and ran her fingers through her hair. Even months later, sliding her fingers through the short bob still gave her chills. She couldn't wait for it to grow back out.
"As you know, your graduation is this Saturday," he said finally. She lifted an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and continued, "And as we've stated in years past, Bayville High will not tolerate any misbehavior from its mutant students." Here his voice firmed, warming up to a subject he knew well. "I'd like to make sure this is very clear to you: We will not have the ceremony disturbed for those who actually have earned the right to be there. We have been given permission from the board to remove you from the ceremony if any of your peers cause problems during commencement."
Rogue felt her jaw drop furiously. Before she could sputter out anything, Kelly added, "And if you remember correctly, last year it was you who couldn't keep your... powers... under control." He let the words drop disdainfully into the silence. It was a warning. "I'd like you to keep that in mind if you want to have a place at the ceremony. Otherwise, the school board would be more than happy to mail you your diploma."
Rogue glared, curling her fingers into tight fists. She counted to ten and breathed in slowly through her nose. There was nothing she could do, she reminded herself. It didn't make his words sting any less. "Ah'll be sure ta keep that in mind."
Kelly nodded to the door. "You're free to go, then. I wouldn't want you missing out on all that studying you're sure to be doing. It would be such a shame for a... talented... student like yourself to do poorly on tomorrow's exams."
Rogue smiled thinly and rose. "That would be a cryin' shame, wouldn't it?"
She shut his door carefully behind her on the way out. She made it down the deserted hallway and out the double doors before she slammed a fist into the brick wall. Like so many other things, it crumbled at her touch.
XxXxXxX
Remy glanced at Rogue from where he was sprawled out on her bed. She was humming to herself, typically a good thing. At the moment, though, she was punctuating every few notes by hurling make-up cases into the trash can.
He winced at a particularly loud clatter and propped himself on his elbows. "Is destroyin' your make-up really helpin' anything?"
There was an explosion of shimmery powder. "Yep."
"Is what Kelly said still botherin' y'?" he asked, stretching to get the kinks out of his back. His left leg throbbed, and he shot it a disgusted look. Shut up an' heal already, he thought testily. Did James Bond need crutches? No. Jason Bourne? Absolument pas. The whole situation was deeply insulting.
Something shattered noisily, and a light, floral sort of smell permeated the air. Roses, maybe. "Chèrie?" he tried again.
Rogue shrugged unhappily, whirling to face him. Dressed in her workout pants and a Giants sweatshirt (he made a mental note to rid her of that as soon as possible) she was still a sight when she was angry. Not that now was the right time to mention it, he thought wryly. Rogue didn't take compliments well, period. Flirting with her when she was already riled up was downright dangerous.
She stalked over to the bed and collapsed on the end of it. Her eyes fluttered closed, revealing purple eye shadow and thick, dark lines of eyeliner. "Ah was expectin' the lecture, really Ah was. Ah mean, he did the same thing ta Jean and Scott, and they were perfect." She heaved a sigh and gestured helplessly. "It was just the way he talked ta me, yah know? Like because of what Ah am, Ah don't even deserve ta graduate, let alone graduate with everyone else. It sucked."
"Sorry chère. At least it'll be over after dis weekend." He reached over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Rogue's eyes flew open and she held perfectly still.
"Remy..." His name hissed out on the tail end of a breath. "Careful. Please."
"Never," he grinned. He finished playing with her hair and let his hand fall back on his stomach. "Bein' careful ain' any fun. Y' should know dat." He winked and added suggestively, "What wit' your bad-girl past an' all."
She began to laugh, shaking her head. "Remy LeBeau, how do yah even come up with stuff like that?"
"Part o' my charm."
She arched an eyebrow, a talent he was a little jealous of. "Ah'm sure."
"Hey guys?" Kitty slid through the solid oak door as if it didn't exist. Remy scrubbed a hand across his face and focused on re-starting his heart. Even after three months under the mansion's expansive roof, it was hard to remember that normal at Xavier's Institute was not... well, normal at all.
"Bonsoir, Kitty."
"What's up?" Rogue shifted so she was sitting cross-legged and rested her elbows on her knees. "Ah thought you were on KP tonight."
Kitty winced and glanced between the two Southerners guiltily. "Yeah... so remember how you guys tried to show me how to make fried chicken? It, like, didn't completely work all the way. Something went bad somewhere between the breading and the cooking part. And... now the chicken is stuck to the pan and there's like, smoke and stuff."
"Fumée?"
Rogue shrugged. "Trust me, it's betta not ta ask," she said in undertone. To Kitty she asked, "Yah want help fixin' it?"
Kitty nodded and grinned sheepishly. "That'd be great. Thanks guys."
When they arrived in the kitchen, it was clear Kitty hadn't been exaggerating. A blue haze of smoke hung over the kitchen while a perplexed-looking Iceman fanned it away from the fire detectors. Remy grinned and began to help Bobby with the clean-up while Rogue started guiding her roommate through a second batch.
If time could stand still, it did while he was scrubbing burnt-on chicken off the pan. It was the feeling that stopped him – the comfort and ease he had only ever associated with one place. Since when does Xavier's school feel like home? His thoughts slowed and stopped, leaving his mind blank but his heart racing. He didn't have an answer.
"Remy?"
He shook himself out of his thoughts and chased them away by focusing on the girl in front of him. Rogue smiled hesitantly, her hair falling in front of her eyes and a hand held out as if to touch his arm. She did that a lot, he'd noticed. Almost touches that stopped inches short of actual contact. He wondered how long it had taken for that to become second nature. Less than a split second later he found himself wondering how long it would take to break the habit.
"Lost in thought?" Her smile turned teasing.
"More or less," he admitted. "Whatcha need?"
"The pan and the bowls. Are yah done with 'em yet?"
He flicked soapy water at her and grinned when she let out a shriek of surprise. "Nope. Wanna help? Four hands are betta dan two."
Rogue rolled her eyes and tucked her gloves into her pocket. Her rings – one on her thumb, one on her middle finger – glinted in the light. "All yah had ta do was ask."
XxXxXxX
Jean clipped her hair into a loose bun and used her fingers to pull a few strands down to frame her face. Even under the warm glow of the lamplight, her expression looked pale and drawn.
"That's what you get when you don't sleep," she scolded her reflection, smearing concealer underneath her eyes. The bruise-colored half-circles slowly disappeared until they were just barely visible. She carefully applied another coat of mascara.
What if Ah hurt someone? Ah hate dinner, too many people too close together. Gloves scarf gloves sleeves gloves careful careful careful. Rogue's thoughts hit her like someone had slapped her across the face. They were sharp and frightened, underlined with compassion and fierce protectiveness. Her first instinct was to panic – she should not have been hearing Rogue's thoughts – but Jean massaged her temples, carefully setting up the mental blocks she had spent years perfecting. Rogue projected a lot, she reminded herself. She dropped her hands and began to place tubes of make-up back in their cases.
Can't believe Rogue is graduating so jealous can't believe I have another year oh well at least Kurt is in the same boat. Love those shoes they would go so great with that dress. Have enough money? Maybe.
Her hands traveled instinctively to her head. This was not good. Not right. She tried to remember what Professor Xavier always said. Be calm. Concentrate. She tried to focus, to relax and pull up the blocks that kept her mind seperate from everyone else's.
Dude how come everyone else gets to go and we're stuck here like little kids that sucks we're totally old enough to go what do they think we are, babies? I think I failed that English final I hate writing.
I can't believe he doesn't know I like him. I mean, it's not like I'm hiding anything. Maybe he just doesn't like me. Not good enough not good enough not good enough.
If only I knew what she was thinking – feeling, even – when she wrote the entries... they're too close to the future Apocalypse knows. I can't lose my students to this I can't. Won't.
"Stop!" Her voice exploded out of her. Something crashed. Jean realized she was gasping for air, clutching at her head. She let her hands fall and realized they were trembling. The lamp was gone. She stumbled to the wall and flicked on a different light, revealing the shattered pieces that lay on the floor.
Jean stared at them for the longest time. It was like trying to see a picture that wasn't quite there – no matter how she tilted her head, it wouldn't ever completely appear. She was so absorbed in seeing the not-picture that she didn't hear someone knocking on her door.
"Jean?" Scott was peeked around the door. "Everything all right in here? I have the car ready to go." She looks so tired maybe tonight's not the best night to go out. We haven't been on a date since what, May? Is that my fault? Probably, been so busy.
She telekinetically swept the broken shards of glass out of sight and smiled, walking into his warm, familiar embrace. "Don't worry about it. Everything is just fine."
