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Author's notes: This interlude stands in for X-Factor (vol. 1) #84. I also reference Uncanny X-Men Annual #17 if anybody was looking for some homework. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the lack of Remy last round! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!
Interlude: Waiting
One year before…
The EMTs wheeled the blood spattered body of Professor Charles Xavier through the operating room's double doors. Alex, Carol, and Rahne Sinclair, Wolfsbane, followed in Val Cooper's authoritarian wake.
"Doctor," Val waved her badge in the face of the bespectacled ER attendant. "Valerie Cooper, from the bureau of mutant affairs. I want to be kept apprised of his status." Carol tried to hold in the satisfied smirk that threatened to erupt when the doctor told Val where she could stick her credentials and continued about his business, that of saving the life of Charles Xavier. The Professor had been shot in New York's Central Park, preaching to a crowd of tens of thousands about tolerance and brotherhood at a Lila Cheney concert, and his condition was grave.
The world didn't know Xavier was a mutant, but Charles had been a longtime government associate, and that connection gave X-Factor access and an excuse to be on hand to guard over the team working to save the man. The group was reluctantly ushered to a nearby waiting room, the small space already populated with an old friend, as well as a new one they hadn't met yet.
"Ororo." Alex stepped forward, dragging a temperamental lupine Rahne, still unable to fully return to her human form.
"Alex, Carol." Ororo was accompanied by a gigantic slab of a man, his eyes obscured by round sunglasses even in the hospital. The man stood protectively over Storm, dwarfing her impressive height.
"Wish it could have been under better circumstances," Alex said awkwardly. "Seeing you, I mean…who's your friend?" Introductions were made of the man called Bishop, and for hours there was nothing to do but wait. Carol and Alex took turns pacing, Val pouting, and Rahne sat slumped in a vinyl covered chair pockmarked with duct-taped holes.
The teen finally jumped to her feet, canines glinting. "It's been hours since they brought him in! I'm going daft here!"
Alex did his best to calm the girl down. "Listen, Rahne," his voice was soothing, but it made Carol cringe. Since they learned Rahne had been bonded to Alex as a mutate captive in Genosha, she could hardly stand to be around the two of them together. She knew there was nothing funny going on between the pair, but she couldn't help, childishly, feeling like the third wheel. "I want you to head out to Central Park, see if you can pick up any clues." Alex turned to Carol. "Go with her, please."
She started in surprise. "Why?" She frowned, but Alex's voice shifted to an annoyed whisper.
"Because I'm asking you to."
"You're going to have to do better than that. If someone takes another shot at Xavier…"
"Then I'm ordering you to." His jaw had a familiar stubborn set to it. "We've got plenty of firepower. The fewer mutants hanging around here, the better."
Her first instinct was to dig in her heels and fight back, but instead she bit her tongue and slammed the double doors so hard on her way out she ripped them from their hinges.
Rahne padded after Carol on all fours. "Trouble in paradise, lassie?" the girl snickered.
Paradise? Had it ever been that good between them, even when it was? Everything had happened so fast, maybe they never had a chance.
"Bite me, Fido."
Chapter Nine
"Do you still take way too much cream in your coffee?"
"That's right. Almost all cream, just a shot of coffee." I laughed easily. "Some things never change, Pryde."
Kitty set two steaming mugs on the kitchen table between us. It was early, just after sunrise, and for the moment we had the usually bustling kitchen to ourselves. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week, there were dark circles beneath her big brown eyes. She tried to take a big sip of coffee but had to stifle a yawn behind her hand. "Sorry, Rogue," she sniffled. "Illyana had a rough night." She lifted the coffee up again. "I'm gonna need a whole pot of this. Just hook it to my veins!"
I was worried about her. Not sleeping, barely eating, she was keeping a near constant vigil over her young friend, only emerging from Illyana's room in the infirmary when she was forced to. I had wanted to get her alone to ask her some questions and just happened to luck into one of her caffeine breaks this morning, but looking at her, the weight of the world digging heavy lines into her little face, all I wanted was to try and lighten her mood, to get her to think of anything but death and dying and sickness.
"So, England, huh?"
She brightened. "Yeah. Almost like old times. Me, Fuzzy Elf, and Rachel…"
"Rachel!?" I had missed that one in the files. Rachel Summers, the alternate timeline daughter of Jean Grey and Scott Summer had been an X-Man, but had disappeared years ago without a trace.
"Ray's…okay. As good as she could be after what she's been through, but I guess that applies to all of us."
"Amen to that, sugar." I raised my coffee cup up and she clinked hers against it.
"Or something like that."
I smiled at her slyly. "Any chance you and Pete…"
She groaned. "Not you, too? Ororo was pestering me about him yesterday. I just got here, and we're just friends! We're only spending time together because of Illyana, there's nothing else going on. Hardly my idea of romance…" She arched an eyebrow above the steam spilling from the mug at her lips. "Speaking of getting closer, what about you and Gambit?" I opened my mouth to protest, but her other eyebrow shot up at the sound of the kitchen door swinging open. "Oh, speak of the devil," she whispered, and I felt my face turn red.
"Bonjour, mademoiselles," Gambit strode through the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning that gorgeous backside of his against the counter. He sighed as he took a slow sip, and a soft smile graced those full lips.
"Good morning, Gambit," Kitty slurred through another yawn, but waggled her eyebrows at me.
"Morning," I tried to kick Pryde under the table, but felt my good leg whoosh through hers when it should have connected. She stuck her tongue out at me and wiggled intangible fingers through the table top.
Gambit walked towards us, lazily scratching his flat stomach, his hand revealing a strip of tanned and toned muscle between his t-shirt and jeans. "Thought you had a therapy session wit' de Professor, chere?"
I stared daggers at the smirking Pryde. "He couldn't meet with me this morning."
"The Professor and Hank are with Peter and Illyana," Kitty explained.
"Well, you're all mine then, chere. Finish that glass of milk you callin' coffee and meet me downstairs." He waved on his way out. "We're walking today!" he called over his shoulder, and Kitty watched him go.
"Yum," she said as the door swung shut.
"Kitty!"
She stood and stretched, smiling. "Am I lying? I wish he looked at me like he looks at you…" I scowled and leaned back, crossing my arms in irritation, but she just winked at me. "I better get back. I'll see you later."
I grinned wickedly. "Tell Petey I said hi."
She flipped me off before she phased through the door, but I heard her chuckle echo down the hall.
We're walking today, he had said. I huffed out an exasperated breath. "But, I've been walking…" I muttered, trembling and dripping, knee deep in my physical therapy session. My voice was whinier than I would have hoped.
"Don't try to fool me, I see what you're doin'. You need to stop draggin' that leg, petite. You not doin' it any good if you just shufflin' along, you need to put weight on it." Gambit crossed his arms over his chest and we stared each other down in between two parallel bars set waist high. My perspiring hands grasped the bars knuckle white, and I was giving it my best effort to not give in to the quivering in my arms and fall down onto my ass. Who knew if would hurt so much to take ten lousy steps? It had been a long time comin', I hadn't walked so far on my own since my first hours awake.
"I can't put weight on it. It hurts," I hissed. "What kind of physical therapist are you? You want me to hurt myself?"
He gave me a surprisingly stern look and stepped towards me, setting off my panic buzzer. He placed his gloved hands on top of mine. "I know its uncomfortable, girl, but it won't hurt you. I won't let it." He was a good head taller than me, well over six foot standing straight, and he leaned down to catch my eyes. "You're healing, you just need to push yourself, or you gonna be in that infirmary forever. Is that what you want?"
"No," I said, my voice thick with phlegm.
"That's my girl…" He stepped backwards and held out his arms. "Come to Gambit." I rolled my eyes and ground my teeth together, taking a painful lurch forward.
"Not…your…girl…" I growled. Every shaking, shuddering step I took, he backed up, his jackass grin widening the further I went. At the end of the bar my legs gave out and I collapsed, but Gambit caught me before I hit the ground. His arms were muscular and warm and he winked at me.
"Not yet, petite." It was cheesy, but so adorable that I started laughing, and he joined me as he brought us both to our feet. He leaned me back against the bar and made for my wheelchair.
"Gambit," I chewed my lip thoughtfully while he helped me get settled and turned us towards the door. "Can I ask you something?"
"Oui. As long as I don't have to answer it."
I ignored his attempt at a joke and continued. "How the hell did you end up doing this…physical therapy for the team, I mean? It seems a little weird, what with your background and everything…" I looked down at my gloves to avoid his eyes, his long strides gliding us effortlessly down the hallway.
"My background?" He chuckled. "That's very diplomatic of you, cherie."
"I'm serious, Cajun."
"Well, it just sort of happened. Team had the need, 'specially after Jeannie got hurt so bad. With my…background as you call it, I had some crossover experience, trained extensively in martial arts, first aid…when you pullin' heists, you gotta be prepared to triage yourself if you get injured." He leaned close to my ear. "That, and I think your Professor was worried about me being bored, wanted to keep me busy. Idle hands, you know."
We paused at the entrance to the Blackbird's hangar to let the Gold Team, a silent Storm leading a trail of marching X-Men, pass us by. Ororo nodded in greeting, but continued on without stopping to chat. Bishop and Pete kept moving, but Bobby rambled our way.
"Hey, guys!" Always cheerful to a fault, he grinned wide. "How'd therapy go today?"
"Ten whole steps." I screwed up my face at my own lack of progress, but Bobby looked ready to break into a cheer.
"She did amazing," Gambit grinned ear to ear. "Think maybe we go swimmin' tomorrow now that the burns on her legs are healed."
I craned my neck to glare holes into him. "I don't think so, sugar. Swimming and my powers don't mix."
He winked and smiled that devil smile of his. "I'll wear a wetsuit, cherie, long as you wear de bikini."
Bobby laughed. "Rogue in a bikini? Count me in, man!"
I rolled my eyes and changed the subject. "Where you guys headed in such a hurry?"
His cute little face fell. "Muir Island," he whispered so low Gambit and I had to lean forward to hear him.
"Muir Island?" Gambit hung far enough over my chair that I felt his heart beat on the back of my head.
Bobby ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "Yeah, Jeannie's coming with us, we're, uh, going to visit…Mastermind." He raised his eyebrows at the name and cast a sidelong glance at the open hangar doors. Inside, Peter, shining in his armored form, stood at the end of the Blackbird's ramp and began pushing Jean's chair into the jet. "I don't get it. I guess the bastard is sick, says he's dying and wants to make amends, so he called Jean. If you ask me, it smells like a trap. No way would Logan let her go…"
My hand fluttered to my throat. Mastermind. Every X-Man alive could recite the story of Dark Phoenix by heart, and the name of the man that had sent her over the edge sent shivers up my spine.
Gambit stood up and crossed his arms. "Mastermind? On Muir Island?" He said it like he didn't believe Bobby.
"Yeah, seriously." Bobby kept on whispering. "This isn't going to be awkward or anything…I don't know why Jeannie is even giving this guy the time of day after what he did to her, or who he thought was her…I gotta go, guys, or I'm gonna get left behind. See ya later." He waved and turned. "Keep me updated on that bikini. If you're taking requests, polka dots are always a classic. And if you see Warren," he yelled over his shoulder, "tell him to move his ass or he's flying all the way across the Atlantic on his own wings."
Gambit deposited me in my room, uncharacteristically distracted. "I gotta get going, chere. McCoy needs me to get him a few things from town. You okay getting cleaned up yourself today, or you need me to send down Jubilee?" I shook my head and he leaned over and absently kissed the top of my hair before I could stop him. He left me with my mouth gaping open at his continued nonchalance concerning my powers. I had hoped we could talk some more, but right then I was too flustered by what he had done. Such a little thing, but for me, that kind of contact wasn't something that happened every day and for good reason. I was dangerous and he needed to keep his distance like everybody else…
I gathered up a change of clothes and some toiletries, and headed to clean up, thankful there were seats in the showers. I could stand for a decent amount of time now, though Gambit was right, damn him, only leaning on my good leg, but the seat would come in handy just in case I got too tired. I'd rather not have to yell for help. That could be more than a little embarrassing, depending on who answered.
My path to the locker room took me by Illyana's room. She and an exhausted Kitty were takin' a well-deserved nap. Friends forever really meant something to Pryde, she and Illyana had been the best after a then seven year old Illyana had emerged from a demon's realm as a teenager, aging years in what appeared in our time to be hours. I remembered the two of them, giggling and troublemaking on a sometimes galactic level. Jean had said even after Illyana had been de-aged, Kitty had still called her from England, had still remained her friend, even though the girl had no memory of all the time they had spent together. She was getting sicker and sicker and the Professor and Hank were scrambling…
"You would think, of all people, I would be used to how unfair life can sometimes be." I whipped my head to the harsh voice behind me. Warren Worthington III, Archangel, stood in the middle of the hallway. When I had known Warren in my misspent criminal youth, he had been a beautiful blonde angel, seemingly sent from the heavens themselves. Time had been cruel to Warren, but was he any less beautiful now that he looked to be comin' from hell instead? He curled his upper lip, his once porcelain skin a pale shadowed blue thanks to the monster Apocalypse.
I nodded. "It's sad when somebody that young had to bear so much pain," I replied.
Warren stood right next to me and looked down his nose. "It is sad, but I wasn't talking about Illyana. I was talking about you."
"Me?"
"You," he lowered his voice. "Or, more specifically, the woman you murdered. Again."
Anxiety wound itself in a thick rope around my torso, and I backed up my chair to get a good look at him. "Warren," I whispered, "I didn't…"
He moved towards my chair, each step forcing me to back down the hall. "Yes, you did. Twice. And yet, here you sit, alive and well, Carol Danvers gone. Where's the fairness in that, where's the justice? Trash like you, garbage like you and your little Cajun buddy, or like that runt Wolverine, get off scot free, while good people like Illyana, like Carol, like me, suffer."
I shook my head and tried to calm him. "Warren, Logan and Remy have nothin' to do with what I..."
His smile made my blood run cold. "Oh? It's Remy now, is it? Well, did your precious Remy happen to mention his Interpol record, or the dead wife he abandoned in between trying to get into your pants? He's playing with you, it's what he does…" He grabbed hold of the handles of my wheelchair and I screeched to a halt, trapped by his sneering face. "The world would have been a better place if you had died instead of her. You have no friends, no family, no one who loves you…you have nothing, and you are nothing. There was no one to mourn you for four years, and no one would have given a damn if you had stayed gone."
"That's not true…" My voice trembled. I should have been angry, raging, screaming at him and clawing at that pretty face, but his words were slicing into me because part of me believed him.
"Oh, yes, I forgot. Your loving terrorist family? Mother of the year, Mystique, you're thinking she missed you, she loved you, right?" His eyes glinted maliciously. "Loved you so much she's the one who stabbed you right through your heart and blew your broken body to kingdom come. And then there's Alex…"
An inhuman growl echoed off the metallic walls. Warren spun and doubled over in agony when the thunk of Logan's adamantium laced fist connected with his stomach. Archangel dropped to his knees and spat a crimson fan of blood onto the floor. A furious Logan stood over him, fists clenched, the circular pads from the EKG monitors still stuck to the matted hair of his Tom Selleck chest. He was awake, he was walking, and, sugar, he was pissed. He bent down and grabbed ahold of Warren's costume, yanking the gagging Archangel upright.
"You got it wrong, bub," Logan snarled. "You're the one who's nothing." Warren howled and sixteen feet of metal wings sprang from his back to fill the hallway. I threw myself hard against the wall and out of my chair, hitting the floor, but not before razor sharp edges kissed my face. Logan roared and popped his claws, moving his way between me and Warren, whose voice had risen to a manic pitch.
"You wouldn't be defending her, runt, not it you knew who she was, what she did!" Warren's cruel words ripped into me. He was right. Long ago, Logan had rescued Carol Danvers from a KGB prison when the rest of the world had given her up for dead, and he had still cared for her enough to shield our body from an explosion. When Wolverine found out she was gone…my heart jumped in my throat when I saw the claws on Logan's hand twitch once above me.
Without looking at me, he called over his broad shoulder. "Rogue." Warren and I were frozen mirror images at the mention of my name. "You okay, darlin'?"
I was real close to dissolving into a messy puddle of tears, but I answered. "Yeah, sugar."
He nodded, his predator eyes still narrowed at Warren. "Ain't you got a plane to catch, flyboy?"
A look of revulsion sullied Warren's face. "You…animals…deserve each other. You're not X-Men, you're a joke. I'm beginning to think Scott had the right idea." He turned suddenly, something I would have assumed was impossible in the small space of the corridor with those wings, and without another word got airborne and continued on past the hangar doors, on his way to freedom.
Still in a heap on the floor, I struggled to sit up, my bum leg wrenched and throbbing beneath me. Mystique had stabbed me? It wasn't possible. Raven may not have been your typical doting mother, but no matter what, I knew, I knew to my heart and soul that she'd never do anything to truly hurt me. A sick feeling slithered through me. Nothing to hurt me, except send me after a woman who had been invulnerable, who had superstrength, a woman who had given me no choice but to use my power against her, damning us both. Logan turned to face me and I looked up at him, so afraid of what he was gonna say.
"Logan, I…" I shrank away, but he wasn't having it. In the blink of an eye, he knelt next to me and crushed me to him, keeping my hair and long-sleeved shirt between me and his bare chest, my second close contact of the day.
"Good to see you, darlin'," he whispered roughly.
"Good to be seen, sugar."
He jerked back from me suddenly, his eyes unfocused, his body rigid, and I thought for a moment his skin had brushed mine. It hadn't. "Logan!" Panicked, I shook his shoulder until he snapped out of it, his blue eyes narrowing to mine.
"Rogue," he murmured, "I think I need to talk to Chuck..."
