Disclaimer haiku:
There is a house in
NYC they call Marvel;
And they own X-Men.
Note: For this fic I've drawn on the Rogue limited series, the first Gambit limited series (not that weirdo second one), and XM #60-61. Pay attention to the word "drawn on," as opposed to "blatantly stolen major plot points from," although I've done a teensy bit of that, too.
The title comes from The Animals' song "House of the Rising Sun," which I have loved for all these many years now, and which always makes me think of Gambit, because, well... if you've heard it, you know why. Anyway, here's the verse that's relevant for this fic: "Well, I got one foot on the platform/ The other foot on the train/ I'm goin' back to New Orleans/ To wear that ball and chain."
And lastly, a note about spelling. I know that Marvel considers her name to be "Bella Donna," but I refuse to use that form for a very good reason: I think it looks stupid. So I'm using the spelling "Belladonna," which also brings it in line with the scientific name for the rather deadly plant nightshade, which is, after all, what she was named after in the first place.
This is now firmly AU, but it's still a lot of fun.
Whew! Enough notes - let's do some fic, huh?
"That's the girl," a low voice said behind her, and Rogue suddenly found herself being grabbed by the shoulder and spun around, off of the city sidewalk and into an alleyway.
"Hey, get the-" she started, jerking away, but the sentence died when one of her attackers, a young woman with a green and purple costume, put her in a chokehold and pressed a blade to her throat.
"Hold real still, honey," she said. There was something familiar about her voice, but Rogue couldn't place it. She tried not to swallow, acutely aware of the cold steel's edge, and sized up the opposition.
There were six of them - four women and two men, including the girl with the knife. Two of the girls and both of the guys were wearing red-and-yellow getups that looked distinctly old-fashioned. One of the girls had a red blindfold on; the other had silver-white hair. The other lady was wearing a black, skintight suit that covered her from neck to toe, as well as a lot of strappy, blood-red armor that looked more decorative than anything else. She was a knockout blonde by anyone's standards, and she was clearly in charge.
Okay, Rogue thought to herself, no more going out by yourself at night. If it ain't lynch mobs, it's mutant thugs. Because these folks were clearly paranormal, unlike the football player jerks who'd already tried to assault her on this little shopping trip. She didn't know why she even bothered to try to have a normal life anymore.
"Hello," the blonde said, hands on hips and smirk on her face. "Rogue, right?"
It was hard to have an attitude when there was a knife pricking at your jugular, but Rogue did her best and snapped, "Yeah. Who the heck are you?"
Blondie smirked and tossed her hair, revealing a pair of needle-sharp red earrings. "I'm Candra, darling, and I'm looking for a certain mutant thief. Tall, charming, red eyes, makes things explode... do you know where we can find him?"
"I have no idea who you're talkin' about," she said coolly. It was stupid, and made no sense, seeing as the mutant in question was one of Magneto's flunkies and the X-Men's enemies. But what the heck - being grabbed at knifepoint didn't really make her feel cooperative.
Candra looked over her shoulder at the girl with the blindfold. "Singer?"
"Yes," Singer said, not raising her head. Her voice faded in and out. "I see... talking..."
Rogue's heart sank a little. Telepaths sucked when the other side had them.
Candra turned back to Rogue. "So, yes, you do have an idea." She made a quick gesture, and the girl holding the knife to her throat gave Rogue a swift punch in her lower back. "I should warn you, Rogue, that Belladonna can do this sort of thing all night."
"Good fer her," Rogue managed to say, torn between the pain radiating from her kidneys and the biting sting of metal at her throat.
Candra flicked a nonexistent bit of dirt from one red gauntlet. "All right then, round two. Mutant thief?"
Belladonna prodded her back for emphasis.
"Ow! Jeez. Fine, I'll tell you." Rogue tried to give Belladonna a dirty glare, failed, and aimed it at Candra instead. "He's workin' for Magneto."
One of the men, a scrawny guy with long brown hair and a pirate's beard and mustache, coughed loudly.
"Thank you, Fifolet," Candra said without looking at him, sounding annoyed. The girl with white hair shook her head in disdain; Fifolet shrugged. "We know he's with Magneto, darling. That's not the question."
"Then what is?" Rogue demanded. She was losing her patience something fierce - and at that moment, the pressure at her throat eased. Not one to miss an opportunity, she promptly threw an elbow into Belladonna's face and added, "And get off me!"
Belladonna staggered back. Rogue turned to keep everyone in her field of vision and got into a fighting stance. Four on one? She could take them. And if she couldn't, then all that crap in the Danger Room was useless.
In a heartbeat, the two guys and the white-haired girl were also ready to fight. Yellow-green light flared around Fifolet's eyes and hands, and the other man produced a nasty-looking mace from nowhere. It started to glow magenta.
Candra still hadn't moved. In fact, she looked bored.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said. "Belle, get back over here. Questa, Fifolet, Gris-Gris, knock it off. Four against one is no fun at all, and we don't want to kill the girl."
Belladonna silently moved to Candra's side, knife vanishing as she went. She glowered at Rogue from the new position.
Rogue noted with some satisfaction that Belle was already sporting a large swollen bruise on her face, but didn't relax.
Candra tapped one finger against her chin. "Where was I? Oh, that's right. We want to know what our mutual acquaintance told you."
"What, yer Singer can't tell you?"
Everyone's attention switched to the telepath.
Singer shook her head slowly. "Mind... too many... haunted..."
"Tell us," Candra commanded, authority cracking like a whip.
"He said... he said he was just passin' by."
Candra raised her eyebrows. "And?"
The warning was clear - she'd better have something else to say - so Rogue said the first thing that sprang to mind: "And he called me cherie."
At that, Belladonna's glower turned downright malevolent. She looked like she was angry enough to spit, and Rogue wondered what exactly her deal was. Despite her obvious fighting skills, and her really bad haircut, she didn't look any older than Rogue herself.
But the others, excepting Singer, grinned, and Candra laughed. "Now, that does sound like our thief."
"What's his name, anyway?"
"He hasn't introduced himself?" Candra said, clearly surprised. "Usually he's shouting his name to the heavens before he's even flipped a card." The surprise turned to amusement, and she looked at Belladonna. "Go on, tell her."
"You want his real name, or th' 'professional' one?" Belle asked with sarcasm fairly oozing.
Rogue suddenly realized why her voice sounded familiar - she had the same drawling accent that Magneto's boy did, whatever his name was. So did Singer, now that she thought of it. "Pick one."
Belle ran a hand through her short blonde hair. "Gambit."
" 'Gambit'?" Rogue repeated, wrinkling her nose up. "That's a stupid-"
Before the sentence had even left her mouth, Belladonna's knife sliced through the air and embedded itself in the wall behind Rogue.
It had missed her face by less than an inch.
Rogue knew she'd gone absolutely white - well, whiter than usual, anyway. Belladonna folded her arms across her chest and gave her a decidedly unfriendly smirk.
"I should have mentioned this earlier," Candra said into the frozen silence, "but Belle is rather... fond of him."
"Oh yeah? Coulda fooled me." Rogue felt something brush her face and realized it was strands of her hair that the knife had severed. "So we done?"
"I don't know. Questa?"
The girl with white hair stepped up to Candra's other side, tilting her head in contemplation. Rogue took a step back, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and realized she had nowhere to go. Without even seeming to move, Candra's five flunkies had cut off all of her escape routes.
Questa finally nodded. "I think so. Just wish she had better fashion sense." Her accent was a little thicker than the others'.
Candra waved dismissively. "Then get on with it."
Questa nodded, flexed her fingers, and closed her eyes. Her body rippled, like water with a stone tossed in, then reformed. Even without the signature glow Mystique always had, Rogue saw the power for what it was.
A shapeshifter.
When Questa opened her eyes again, she looked exactly like Rogue, right down to the newly-severed strands of hair.
Rogue stared. And then, in a moment of utter clarity, she knew she was in bigger trouble than she'd seen in a long, long time.
The guy with the mace - Gris-Gris - stepped forward and blew a palmful of red powder into her face.
It was stupid and she knew it, but Rogue sucked in a breath of the stuff. She started choking immediately.
"Pleasant dreams," she heard Candra say, distantly, and then a black door slammed shut on her mind.
When Rogue came back to the Institute, she dropped her single shopping bag in her room and told everyone she had to finish some homework.
"Wow, you're like, extra-motivated tonight," Kitty said, teasing, and Rogue just shrugged.
She couldn't find a pen that worked and had to go borrow one from Jean, who was doing homework in the kitchen with Scott. "Thanks," Rogue told her, twirling the pen in her fingers as she walked off, and Jean pressed a hand to her forehead, frowning.
"What?" Scott asked.
Jean chalked up the sudden sensation of another mind to Rogue's always-anomalous power and dismissed the whole thing. "Nothing."
And that was the last anyone saw of Rogue that night.
Or the next morning.
"Rogue?" Kitty called, knocking on her door impatiently. "Come on! We're gonna be late!"
Scott had never been good at waiting for the morning carpool, and ever since the Institute had blown up, he'd gotten even worse. They had about half a minute before he left without them.
"Rogue! Are you even here? And you better not have gone on some stupid joyride!"
There was no answer, just like there hadn't been for the last five minutes, so Kitty gave up and decided to phase right through the door. She kept her eyes shut just in case - because there were some things she really didn't want to see - and waited for Rogue to yell at her. Nothing happened.
Kitty opened her eyes and stared, confused and a little scared, at the completely empty room. Oh, sure, a lot of her stuff was still there, like the guitar, and her school gear, but the uniform was gone from her closet and so were all of her clothes.
In slow motion, Kitty walked further into the small room. The bed was neatly made - a first for Rogue, who was a total slob when it came to that kind of thing. At first, that caught Kitty's attention more than the single object lying on top of the covers.
She picked up the disc, read the label, and swallowed, hard.
There was only one thing to do.
"PROFESSOR -!"
Rogue came to slowly. The place where she found herself was not the streets of Bayville. It didn't even look like someplace in America.
She was slumped in an overstuffed armchair, hands and feet bound with good old-fashioned duct tape, and as she struggled into a sitting position, she took in the rest of the room. It was big, ornate, and full of paintings and sculptures and all sorts of frilly knickknacks. It put her in mind of French palaces and art museums.
Twisting her head, she could see a big fireplace at one end of the room; it was cold, but stacked full of firewood. Looking the other way, she saw Singer nestled in another chair nearby, Gris-Gris standing behind her.
Ruby light flickered around Singer's head in a ghostly halo. Rogue didn't want to know what the telepath was doing.
"She's awake, Candra," Gris-Gris called out, without ever appearing to glance in Rogue's direction.
"Delightful," Candra's voice drifted back. A few moments later, the woman herself appeared and stationed herself in front of Rogue. She was still wearing red, but now it was a gauzy thing with even more pointless armor and a smooth metal tiara. The same needle-sharp earrings dangled from her ears, and now that she wasn't wearing gloves, Rogue could see that she had long, sharp red fingernails as well. "Have a good sleep, darling?"
Rogue suddenly felt like crying. "Why are you doin' this?" she asked, fighting back the urge to tears. It came out sounding kinda pathetic anyway.
A devil's grin snaked across Candra's face. "One word: access. You have it, I need it."
"Access to what?"
Candra gestured imperiously and Gris-Gris brought her a chair, which she settled into with flawless grace. "Why, Magneto, of course."
High school was put on hold for the indefinite future, and all of the X-Men gathered together to see what Kitty had found. A quick telepathic search by both Professor Xavier and Jean revealed that Rogue was out of range, which basically meant that she could be anywhere in the world, seeing as how Cerebro was still down. Wolverine was on one of his road trips; more bad news, since they couldn't use him to track Rogue either.
After a tense twenty minutes, it was reluctantly agreed by all parties that the disc was their only lead.
"You found this on her bed?" Professor Xavier asked Kitty, holding the disc up to the light.
Kitty nodded. She looked miserable, as did everyone else. They had all seen the label on the disc
- the single scrawled word written with what Jean identified as her pen - and if the idea of what
could be behind the message "Goodbye" wasn't chilling enough, then Rogue's absence certainly
was.
Xavier played the disc, firmly suppressing the fear that they were going to see a suicide note.
Rogue's face appeared on the computer screen, looking paler than usual, but calm. "Yeah, so, I guess if y'all are seeing this, you've figured out I'm gone.
"First off, don't worry. I'm still alive. I just ain't... around."
There was a collective sigh of relief.
"I guess... There's no good way to explain this. I was out last night, right, and a bunch of football players started in on the whole 'mutant freak' thing, and I dunno, I just thought, 'Why am I doin' this?' I'm gonna be an outcast for the rest of my life. Why waste it protecting a world that hates and fears me? If I'm gonna have this power, I might as well use it to make sure we get a fair shake."
"Oh, no," someone said. Xavier agreed.
It was fairly clear to everyone where this was heading.
"So I'm gone. I guess I'll see you guys around, though it won't be as friends. Bye."
The picture blinked out.
"Magneto? I don't have access to Magneto!"
"Of course you do," Candra replied, totally unperturbed. "You worked for him once, in a roundabout fashion."
"But- I quit," Rogue said, incredulous. "I changed sides."
"Mm." Candra looked delighted with herself. "And now you've changed sides again."
Rogue felt something cold and chill slide around her belly. Not quite fear, not quite disbelief, not quite despair, but an emotion that was all of those things and more. "What?" she managed to get out. It was barely more than a whisper.
Candra snapped her fingers. "Singer. Show-and-tell."
Singer, moving slowly as she always seemed to do, reached up and tugged her blindfold down, then opened her eyes. The room was instantly flooded with red light - not the blinding, focused brilliance of Cyclops' blasts, but a gentler hue that washed over everything and stained it crimson.
This is how Scott sees the world, Rogue thought absently, too worried over her future to be fascinated with the minor revelation.
"Where's Questa?" Candra demanded.
Singer lifted a hand listlessly, then let it fall back into her lap, staring ahead blindly. "There."
The spot she'd pointed at gradually brightened into a glowing sphere, and then resolved into a figure - Questa, in Rogue's body, standing. Another figure took shape nearby, and then another, and another, until an entire tableau was laid out in mid-air, like an all-red hologram.
Magneto, that metal guy, the firestarter, and Gambit. Questa was in the middle of the lion's den.
It was telepathic - Rogue knew it had to be - but she had no words to describe the feat that Singer was performing.
"Singer has extraordinary eyesight, doesn't she?" Candra said, watching Rogue's reaction with a smirk. "Let's have some audio with this visual."
Singer lifted her hand again. Red flickered around it.
"- welcome you into the Acolytes," Magneto's voice said, warbling a little, "if you are being honest in your assertions."
"Of course I am," Questa snapped, pushing at her hair. "I contacted you, didn't I?"
"Could be a trick," the firestarter said. "I say we toss her out."
"No. The X-Men are too honorable for such a trick, Pyro," the metal guy said; Rogue was surprised to hear that he had a heavy Russian accent. "I believe she has come of her own free will."
Magneto took a step toward Questa. "Colossus is correct, Xavier is honorable - but these are desperate times for all of us. Explain again why you have come here."
Questa crossed her arms over her chest. " 'Cause I don't wanna get pushed around and treated like a freak for the rest of my life. Just like the first sixteen times I told you. Look, if y'all don't want me around, I'll go. I'm sure there's other mutant groups who'd be glad to have me."
Gambit hadn't said a single word or moved an inch.
"I do not sound like that," Rogue told Candra, who raised an eyebrow.
"Questa has studied you for a long time, girl," Belladonna's voice said in her ear, making Rogue jump. The other girl was leaning over the back of the armchair in an unfriendly, overly intrusive manner. "She knows you better than you know yo'self."
"Glad someone does," Rogue retorted.
Belle cuffed the side of Rogue's head. It hurt, but Wolverine hit harder just in good intentions, and she told Belladonna that while she was trying to ignore the ringing in her ears.
"Be quiet!" Candra said sharply, making a shooing motion without looking at them. "I'm missing the good part."
The good part turned out to be Magneto's acceptance of Questa into his Acolytes. Rogue wanted to turn away from the sight of her doppelganger exchanging handshakes with the master of magnetism, but couldn't. It was like watching the proverbial train wreck - the life that could have been, the path she could have walked down. She felt profoundly grateful to the X-Men, and Scott in particular, for not giving up on her. She held out hope that they wouldn't give up on her now.
She was also building a deep, simmering hatred for Candra and all of Candra's flunkies.
When she got out of this duct tape - not if, when - she was gonna make them all sorry. Especially Belladonna.