I Remember You
Nobody in the team trusted him, and it was doubtful that anyone ever would given his history, but Pyro was nevertheless proving himself to be a useful addition to the X-Men. He was a maverick. When he fought, his style was reckless and undisciplined but he got results. His stratagems, when he bothered to come up with them, were surprisingly effective. Having him around kept everyone on their toes, made them all work harder. None of them wanted to be shown up by a former member of the Brotherhood.
When he wasn't training with them or going to the classes that Storm insisted he attend, he spent most of his time in the room he shared with Peter. Warren asked what he did there and his roommate reported that Pyro either only slept or read. He usually took out a good pile of books from the library and read them one after the other almost obsessively. However, he never bothered to return them, so Peter would pick them up and return them himself. Of course, Pyro never thought to thank him for doing that.
It was taking a while, but all of them were beginning to deal, to move on – each in their own way. Storm stopped walking around with a perpetual worried frown on her face. Henry McCoy didn't mutter to himself anymore when he went about his duties. Even Logan was seen throwing out a half-empty bottle of whiskey one day. The younger X-Men were also starting to settle back into their old routines without the air of distraction they had possessed since the events of Alcatraz; except for Rogue.
She was still troubled. She frequently sought out Henry McCoy just to ask him one question: "Is it ready yet?" And, every time, his answer was the same: "I'm sorry, but we're still working on it. Don't lose hope, Marie." And she would nod and say thank you then go to her room and not come out for days.
Whenever she saw Logan and the others come out of the Danger Room after a session, it was all she could do not to shed tears of frustration and anger. She should be with them. She belonged with them. She was an X-Man. She used to be the most dangerous one of them all. Her mere touch was fatal. But she wasn't the Rogue anymore. She was Marie now. She was human.
To take her mind off things, Storm assigned her to teach basic self-defense classes to the younger students. She was also sent out on errands quite often. It was during one such errand in town to pay the school's bill at a local grocer's that she ran into someone she didn't expect. She was leaving the store when she bumped into a tall, elegant woman whose eyes narrowed in recognition once she got a good look at Marie's face.
"Oh, it's you," the woman said. Something about her seemed familiar though Rogue was sure she had never seen her before.
"You know me?" she wondered.
"Yes." The woman looked a bit annoyed. "Though the last time we saw each other, I was blue."
"Mystique?"
"It's Raven," she snapped. "Just Raven now."
"I heard you had gotten cured," she said, suddenly feeling awkward around this woman who had been her enemy. "What are you doing here?"
"None of your business. And don't go sounding the alarm to your precious X-Men. Causing mayhem is not on my agenda, no matter how fun it may be." She gave Rogue a scathing look, and then she noticed something different about the young woman before her. A cold smile appeared on her face. "I guess I'm not the only one whose mayhem-causing days are over. You're not wearing gloves anymore."
"That's because I don't need them," Rogue answered somewhat stiffly. "I have to go. It wasn't nice seeing you again."
"Wait!" Mystique stopped her. "Why don't you come with me? - It's not what you think!" she said quickly when she saw Rogue's expression. "I'm just inviting you for coffee. Now. Just us girls."
She scowled. "And why should I do that?"
"Well, do you have anything better to do? And I can afford to kill some time before my appointment."
She thought about it for a minute, then she nodded. "Okay. But if you try anything –"
Mystique snorted. "Oh, please! What use are you to me without your powers?"
Those casual words hurt her but she was careful not to show it. She allowed Mystique to take her to a café across the street without further protest. Rogue couldn't believe that this was actually happening. She was having coffee with the woman who had once tried to kill her.
"I suppose we should have some sort of conversation," Mystique said after taking a sip of her drink. "How's the wild man?"
"Wolverine? He's doing fine."
"He's resilient, a survivor. If the Brotherhood could have recruited him, what a soldier he would have been." She sounded almost nostalgic.
"You mean you would have turned him into a heartless killer, like what you did with John?" Rogue accused her.
She laughed. "I can't believe you still have illusions about people, even after everything you've been through. That Wolverine of yours – he was born to be a killer. There are some who just have that darkness in them. Killing comes naturally for those people. Pyro, however, had to be taught. And he learned very, very well. Because he wanted to be a killer, and that's what makes him more of a monster than Wolverine could ever be."
Rogue wanted to wipe the malicious look off the woman's face. "You're the monster," she said.
Mystique smiled. "Of course, I am," she replied. "It takes one to know one."
