Chapter 6: Giants
"I don't…really know if this is a good idea."
Juggernaut scowled. "Look, if you're gonna be of any use to us, we gotta figger out what exactly you can 'andle."
Rogue shifted from foot to foot. "A couch?" she questioned.
Quicksilver laughed, but Juggernaut continued. "If you don't fink you cin catch it, move outta the way."
She looked as if she were about to protest, so, before she had another chance to speak, he lobbed the couch at her and watched to see what would happen.
They had been at this all morning. The day before, Magneto had, through Eden, decided that Rogue had had enough time to brood; it was time for her to start contributing something, or at least begin training with the others. Juggernaut had begun with a large rock. She had tried to lift it, and had succeeded. Then, they had played catch with it. Other objects were brought into the mix—logs, the TV, things like that.
Juggernaut crossed his arms in satisfaction. "See?" he was saying. Rogue stood, balancing the weight of the couch effortlessly above her head.
She frowned. "Maybe I should just get a job at U-Haul, or something."
Quicksilver doubled over, and the couch flew at him. He got out of the way easily, and appeared on the other side of the room, still breathless with laughter.
"Thas it, girl," Juggernaut nodded approvingly. "Anger, strength, speed, and accuracy…you're gettin' it." Rogue rubbed her upper arm self-consciously. "Break?" he asked.
"Yeah…could we?"
He tossed her a bottle of water, and they sat down on the newly-positioned couch. They drank their water in awkward silence. Quicksilver swiped a bottle without being seen, and drank, somewhat timidly, back on the other side.
"Can I ask you somethin?" Rogue said suddenly.
"Wha?"
She wiped some of the sweat from above her eyes as she spoke. "Did you…know Marvel?"
Juggernaut looked up at her. "Yeah. I knew 'er. Well," he corrected himself, "I knew who she was. Knew her name. We weren't pals, or noffing."
"Oh…" Rogue sat thinking, and drank more water. "Because I was wondering, why you all are helping me. And I was wondering if you'd still be helping me, if I had killed someone else. Someone you knew better. What if I had killed Eden?" she asked.
Juggernaut tensed. "We wouldn't be having this cozy little conversation if you had," he answered.
"What if I had killed Toad? Would Eden have killed me by now?"
He sat back. "You know, even then, I fink she'd still be helping you. Even if you'd done that."
"Why?" she begged to know.
"Because, that's Eden. If she thought you could 'elp this…cause," he said for lack of a better word. He hated the word cause. "If she thought Magneto could use ya, it wouldn't matter if you'd killed everybody she'd loved. This all matters more to 'er than anyfing else."
Even as he was saying it, Juggernaut realized the implications in such a statement, and how very true they were. He believed that nothing and no one could stand between her and Magneto and what they fought for. It was almost painful to admit to himself that her love extended only so far, and that her true self was wholly dedicated to something that could never love her back the way she loved it. A cause had no feelings, no reciprocation—but she gave all of herself to preserve it.
"She's…real, isn't she?" Rogue said to herself. "I mean…when you think about the…bad guys…who you think are the bad guys, anyway…when you think about them, you imagine monsters, who don't feel anything. And you need to imagine that to justify fighting them…and then, in the end, they're all just real people, fighting for real things."
Juggernaut looked over at her and said nothing for a minute. Then, "Come on, I want to throw the boat at you."
"Ok," she said.
Giants come in all sizes.
Rogue had been working with an actual giant all day. And when, after the day was done, she entered the kitchen to find something to eat, another giant was sitting at the table—a giant of a different kind.
She turned out of the kitchen, almost as soon as she entered it. But he had seen her, and called to her. "Marie, don't run from me."
She stopped in her tracks, turned slowly and looked at him as calmly as she could. He gestured to a chair across from him and she took it, reluctantly.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I can't imagine why," she responded.
"Well, we were bound to run into each other at some point. This is my house, after all."
Rogue pushed her hair out of her eyes, in a habitual, nervous way. "Whadda you want?"
For some time, Magneto just stared at her. It was so unnerving. Rogue looked towards the exit, wondering whether she should just leave. The silence was unbearably cruel. She had just decided she would leave, when Magneto spoke at last.
"I'm not going to apologize to you."
She glared at him. "Wow, I'm really—not at all surprised by that. I mean, why should I even expect an apology? You only tried to kill me. What was it you said, 'Your sacrifice will mean our survival?'"
"Word for word."
Her blood boiled. "I know in my heart that I hate you. And I don't know if it's me, or Marvel—but one of us also knows deep down that you're right. One of us knows that everything you say, and everything you've done, is right. And it's killing me trying to figure out which one of us it is."
"It's you Marie."
She had not realized it, but the gripping feeling in her throat and the sudden heat in her eyes told her that she was about to cry. "How…how do you know it's me?"
"I just do. Marvel's presence in you is strong—but yours is no less strong. You may be sharing a consciousness with someone else, but you are here, now. Just you, Marie."
"It's Rogue!" she exclaimed defensively, unable to think of anything to contradict him. He said nothing in reply. Her hands began to shake. "You know," she said, "I've seen…I know what happened to you. In your mind—pictures, images, like a film. When you touched me, I saw them. And they were horrible. I'm reminded everyday of what you tried to do to me. But it isn't just all those horrible things that happened to you, that roll over in my mind every night in my nightmares. I can see what you did every time I look in the mirror." She took one of her white locks in her hand. "I can never forget…how weak I was, how helpless. How close I was to dying! You did that to me, and I'll never ever forgive you for it!" Her heart was racing as she said these things, never had she been so angry, never had she been so forthright. When she was finished, she got up from the table so fast, she knocked over the chair. Ignoring it, she made to leave the kitchen, when Magneto, quietly, and almost sadly said,
"You could have died your hair, you know."
She turned and nodded slowly. "Yeah, and you could've removed that tattoo."
He nodded. "Yes." He touched his left forearm absently, seemingly unaware that he was even doing it. "I think we understand each other," he said, "Rogue."
She crossed her arms and shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe we do." She took one step forward, picked up the chair, righted it, and left the room.
"Shit, you alright?!"
Eden clutched her chest, just below her neck. Blood ran between her fingers. Toad yanked her hand away to see the extent of her wound. It was a deep gash, just below her collarbone. A thousand 'what if?' scenarios ran through his head—Wolverine could have slit her throat—could have stabbed her through the heart—could have punctured her lung—and then, where would he be? He was so angry at himself. This was his fault.
"Oh, God!" he exclaimed, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Don't," she argued, "don't. It doesn't matter. I've got to stop this bleeding."
"I can stop it," he said, "with my spit. It'll sting like a bitch though."
"Do it," she agreed. "It's better than bleeding to death."
He spat into his hand, a large quantity of green slime. He hesitated for a moment.
"Come on!" she insisted. And he pressed his hand against her chest, smearing the slime along the wound. She hissed and bit down so hard on her lip, it bled. "Shit, shit, shit."
He took her into his arms. "You ok?"
"Remind me to never, ever let you do that again!"
He clutched her close to him and kissed her forehead. Then he leapt from the roof of that building to the next, and to the next, and to the next, lithely and without effort. It was like a wicked game of leap frog. In minutes he was near the river again. Hawk was on the building, waiting for him. Without a word, he flew towards the boat, which was already a good way from the shore. Toad leapt after him and they were on board in a second. He lay Eden down on the deck.
"What happened?" cried the boy, who must have been Pyro. Toad glanced up at him. He rushed to Eden and touched her tentatively. Toad frowned, but turned his attention to Eden's wound. The hardened spit was a purple-green now, blood sandwiched between it and her skin.
"We ran into one of your old friends," Toad answered spitefully.
"My old friends?"
"Yeah, the Wolverine. Almost slit her throat."
"You say that like it's my fault," Pyro said.
Toad leered at him. "Is it?"
"Stop it!" Eden declared. "Just…get this off of me!" She touched the encased wound, trying to remove the slime. "Please."
"I can't…we have to wait till we get back."
Her eyes watered, but she refused to cry. "Fine, alright," she breathed. "Alright."
"Toad," Hawk called. "I can't steer this. Come on."
He stroked her face delicately. "I'll be right back."
Pyro watched Toad leave. He was a hulking, bandy-legged, lurch of a mutant. He was short, he was warty, he had crazy hair and weird gummy teeth and…well, he was just fucking ugly.
He looked at Eden. She was so small compared to him, so weak. He wondered briefly what sex was like for them—Toad looked like he could kill her in bed. It was like a tree making love to a toothpick.
Eden pushed herself back and sat up, leaning against the side of the boat. She groaned slightly.
"Can I get you anything?"
"There's bottles of water, underneath the bench…"she responded. He got one, and opened it for her. After she had drunk most of it, she spoke to him.
"I guess it's safe to say that you got out okay?"
"Yeah, no problems…it's kind of amazing that the X-Men haven't caught up with us yet."
"The Phoenix disintegrated their jet, remember? I guess they haven't built a new one." She smiled and he smiled back.
"Thanks," he said, suddenly, "thanks for coming to get me."
Eden frowned. She seemed confused. "Did you think I'd leave you there?"
"Well…I kind of…betrayed the Brotherhood."
She sighed, and winced as her chest expanded. "Right…that. Well, I hope you're over your whole 'vengeance-is-mine' phase?"
"After this, I guess I have to be."
She looked painfully at him, but very seriously. "Pyro, you have to know that I will kill you if you try anything. Or Toad will. Someone will."
He grimaced. "You really think I would? You don't trust me?"
She sat a little straighter. "Today, against the better judgment of almost everyone, I saved your life. So far, I think the only person we can trust here is me."
It stung Pyro, but he knew it was true. He was angry, but not enraged. Anger and resignation tend to negate one another. "Almost everyone?" he repeated. "Who was on my side?"
"Besides me?" she replied. "Juggernaut."
Pyro nodded. "Good guy to have on your side."
Eden smiled, not in her new, condescending way, but in the old way—the way she used to smile when he said something that amused her, in the days when they spent all their time together, in dank, dingy hotels, eating McDonald's and watching bad TV.
He was about to say something, while he had the chance. And, like in a soap opera episode, Toad appeared on the scene and interrupted him before he could begin.
He squatted down by Eden's side, ignoring Pyro completely. He spoke to her in soft, adoring tones, and kissed her hand, and stroked her face—there was never a truer tale than beauty and the beast, thought Pyro. Why? Why does the beast win?
When he could no longer stomach the love, he left them to themselves and approached Hawk. Hawk was grinning devilishly. Already, Pyro had an affinity for this mutant. "What the hell are you smiling at?"
"You two," he said, "you have a past. I can almost smell it." He scoffed at Pyro in different, rolling language, full of long 'R's and hacking 'H's.
"Hey man, if you're gonna insult me, do it in English." Hawk laughed, but did not translate whatever it was he had said.
Pyro leant against the cabin wall. "What about them, anyway?" he asked. "I know Eden, but I don't know Toad. You know them both. Will it last forever?"
"Nothing lasts forever," Hawk responded ambivalently.
"Nothing," Pyro mused. "Let's hope."
Scar my heart
my love, my own
Time can never heal
what Time has never known
Time goes by
and no matter how far
Time heals nothing
it only leaves a scar
So, scar my heart
rip into me sure
aim for my soul
I will endure
…with time
"I'm really…well, disappointed James."
The Senator shook his head. "I had no idea Magneto would come after him. Not after what happened at your laboratory."
"Well...I'm not one to hold grudges."
Duro shook his head. "What do you think his plan is? What does he want?"
"Want, James? Want? He wants what we all want—power. To make the world the way he thinks it should be. To destroy those who oppose him. He is just like us, you know."
"Mutants are animals," Duro said scathingly.
"I've worked with mutants my entire life, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is that they are most assuredly not animals. They are clear-thinking creatures, with hopes, and desires, and agendas. They are not animals, James, they are just—inhuman."
"Isn't that the same thing, Rhys?"
"Not quite," he answered. "To be inhuman is not automatically defined as being an animal; it is to simply be non-human. A rock is non-human, and a tree is likewise. Trees and rocks cannot think, however, therefore these mutants, these non-humans, as it were, are more than just non-human; they are inhuman—cold, ruthless, thinking beings with minds and hearts. Besides," Weir continued, "if they were animals, we would have a bigger problem."
"What's that?"
Weir smiled. "P.E.T.A."
Duro laughed in spite of himself. He poured them both another cup of coffee and mused over it, as the steam rose into his face, clouding his eyes.
"This Washington coffee is quite disappointing," Weir commented.
Duro shrugged. "I've had worse." He smiled, suddenly remembering. "Marco used to send Kelly coffee from Brazil all the time—that was good coffee."
"Poor Lucas," Weir said. "He should have listened to me. Which reminds me," he leaned forward, "have you been listening to me?"
Duro looked away. "I don't know about all that, Rhys, it's a bit of a stretch. I mean, it's one thing for that girl to get to you at your laboratories—it's another for her to miraculously break through Washington security and get close enough to me to bite me and poison me."
Weir shook his head. "Have you watched the security footage from the hospital in New York, where the fire mutant was taken?"
"A hundred times," Duro said.
"Well, then," Weir spread his hands, "you have seen my Jaida. The one who drops from the ceiling and kills the policeman, the one who smuggles in the matches to give to the fire mutant, the one who scales the side of the building to escape capture."
The Senator looked taken aback. "You said she was weak!"
"She is weak," Weir answered, "you should have seen her when she was strong. Take my advice, James, develop immunity to her. She's proved to be surprising."
Duro nodded thoughtfully and was quiet for a moment.
"Deep thoughts, my friend?"
"I was thinking of Magneto, and of the members of his mutant group. They've all been—remarkably capable and strong. He's one of the most powerful mutants on earth."
"All true. What is your conclusion?"
"I have no conclusion. I'm just wondering, why would he keep her? What use is she, if she's as weak as you say?"
"Ah, James, she is his weak link."
"How's that?"
Weir steepled his fingers over his cup. The steam rose between them. "Jaida is remarkably capable, despite her incapability. She works her way into men's hearts. Her eyes hypnotize you; her voice calms you. It is a power that is either mutant or natural—I was never sure. It may be her mutation—it may be just her. But, she has worked her way even into the heart of Magneto and that, my friend, is something indeed."
"What about yours Rhys? Has she got yours?"
He gave Duro a half-grin. "Anything is possible," he answered, to James' surprise. "But," he continued, "you don't have to worry about that."
"Why's that?"
"Because I do not have a heart."