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Author's notes: This interlude was inspired by X-Factor (vol 1) #87, but in this timeline the team went to therapy as part of their interview process, not only after being traumatized during X-Cutioner's Song.
Okay, long chapter this round, lots happens, and some very big questions are answered. I have to admit, I struggled a bit with how this chapter ultimately turned out. Did someone get the punishment they deserved? Was it enough? Nowhere near? I rewrote and rewrote and rewrote, picking at it like a scab, but finally decided to just go with my gut and what I thought would be in Rogue's heart. Let me know what you think, I'm always up for a good debate!
Also, a little Remy to brighten your day...er, sort of. Their interaction this time is based on another of my favorite Romy moments. Enjoy!
Interlude: Couch Time
One year, ten months ago…
"How did that make you feel?
Carol snorted and crossed her legs. "Really? You're going to go with that?" She crossed her arms and avoided the eyes of Doc Samson, psychologist to the super-powered.
The man placed a yellow legal pad in his lap. "Carol, the federal government is requiring that all of X-Factor be analyzed by a professional. If joining this team is what you truly want, why don't we make the best of the situation? I see from your files that you've had a very eventful few years. I'm here if you want to talk about it."
She bit her lip. Spilling her guts to someone she had never met was the last thing she wanted to do, and the first thing he had asked about was Rogue, a subject that for her own sanity she considered closed. It was how she made it through the guilt that threatened to drown her on a daily basis. "Fine," she said, "but next question." Mentioning Rogue? Strike one, baseball fans.
Doc Samson drew his eyebrows together and his lips flattened into a thin line. "Very well." He shook his head and the green tinged curls that cascaded from his head in waves danced in the dim light. "Your…relationship with Alex Summers…teammate, soon to be your squad leader. Does that seem appropriate to you?"
Strike two. Gritting her teeth, Carol swung one leg impatiently. "Yes."
The doctor reclaimed his pad of paper and scribbled notes. "I understand it has been rather a whirlwind. Do you see that as…"
Strike three, Carol thought, and stood, not willing to give him the opportunity for anything more. "We're finished here." She grabbed her jacket and turned to leave.
He folded his hands and placed them in his lap. "No we are not. Not if you are intent on becoming a member of X-Factor." He nodded at the couch she had vacated. "Sit."
She mentally wrestled with herself. Joining the team had been her idea. How would she explain it to Alex if she walked away now? With a huff, she thudded onto the leather sofa. "Yes," she said calmly. "Things with Alex and I moved very quickly."
"The life of a superhero can be quite uncertain. Wouldn't you agree?"
Carol gave him a withering stare. "Do you have a point to make, Doctor, or is this some test to see how I handle stressful situations?"
He chuckled, but made another note on his pad, much to Carol's discomfort. "I'm not here to make points, I'm here to help you come to your own conclusions."
Exhaling slowly, she fought the urge to scream at the man. This was ridiculous, and she was going to kill Val Cooper for putting her through this, she knew it had to have been that blonde bitch's idea.
"It is not a sign of weakness, Carol, to want someone by your side in the world in which we live. Working to save those that hate and fear you can certainly be a confusing proposition. You risk your life daily for people, many of whom would rather see you dead. Wanting some stability, needing someone to lean on in the storm, those feelings can certainly manifest themselves as love…"
That was it. Despite his protests and the consequences, she stormed from his office, nearly colliding with a pacing Pietro Maximoff.
Quicksilver skidded to a stop and rolled his eyes. "Finally! It seems like I've been kept waiting for an eternity!"
A sick guilt began to dissolve her anger. "Go to hell, Pietro," she mumbled as she brushed past him. How was she ever going to explain this to Alex?
Chapter Ten
When Logan finished spilling his guts to the Professor, I was too stunned to even cry.
A heavy silence hung over our teacher's study, finally broken by the man himself. "Logan," The Professor's voice was cautious footsteps. "You are certain you heard her correctly?"
Logan didn't turn around from where he leaned a burly forearm on the window overlooking the grounds. "Think I'd say it if I didn't?" He shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, Chuck, that maybe I got hurt so bad I don't know which way is straight, that maybe those adamantium chunks Swiss-cheesed my brain, but I'm tellin' you, that's what she said." His jaw tensed. "It was Carol's last confession, like she had to get it off her chest, like she knew she was…" He hung his head low.
I moved my eyes to the floor and followed the pattern of the Persian rug to keep from screaming. One small bright spot from everything Logan had just told us? I knew I hadn't done this to myself, knew I hadn't given up my body, purposefully hidden myself away for four years, knew Carol had been lying through my damn teeth, and now they all would, too.
"I would not have thought Elisabeth capable of something like this, not only her character but in terms of her telepathy. Suppressing a psyche at this level, essentially burying the personality of another deeply enough that it left behind no trace, takes a tremendous amount of skill and raw power. I confess, I only knew Elisabeth from her interactions with Douglas Ramsey before her transformation, but such a thing would be impossible with her mutation at its current level. She is simply not a powerful enough psi to accomplish such a feat, and certainly not without Carol's assistance. I would have liked to have touched base with Jean before we proceeded in order to ascertain her impressions of Elisabeth's past abilities in her original body, but unfortunately we cannot wait. This has gone on for far too long."
I listened to their back and forth and tried to grab ahold of what Logan had told us. Elisabeth Braddock, Psylocke, my teammate if not necessarily my friend, had helped the Carol Danvers that had been inside of me keep control of my body. Together they had somehow buried my psyche deep enough that even Jean and the Professor hadn't been able to find me until Carol had been dead and gone. Carol confessed it all to Logan before the blade Mystique drove into us had ended her life.
"Darlin', you still with us?" I blinked and realized Logan was crouching on the carpet in front of me, his big warm paw on my scrub pant covered knee. I took a shuddering gulp of air and met his eyes. "I swear," he whispered fiercely. "Ororo, me…we didn't know. Carol told us you needed time, and Betsy backed her up. If I had any idea…"
"Why," I choked on the word and tried again. "Why did she do this to me?" Carol, I understood. But Betsy?
The Professor stood and straightened his sport coat and tie. "That, Rogue, is an excellent question, and one I intend to have answered." He placed his fingers to his temples, but paused and regarded me carefully. "You do not need to be here, Rogue, if you are concerned. We can certainly have this discussion without you if you would prefer."
"NO."I stiffened and sat up, that slow fire of anger stoking in my belly. "She took four years of my life. I want to know why."
Logan's eyes glinted like sharpened steel. "I'm right here, darlin'. She won't hurt you again." The rage, the betrayal practically rolled off of his skin. Logan considered himself a good judge of character, it was hard to beat the bullshit detector of someone with enhanced senses, and he had vouched for Betsy when they had found her wearing a new face, had defended her when others wouldn't have given her the time of day. The murderous look in his eyes told me it was taking a lot to not find her and gut her with his claws for what she had done. As sick as it was, it felt nice to know he still cared for me that much. I had thought when he woke up that he would be sad, maybe angry that Carol was gone and I was in her place, but I had been wrong. He was angry, but more at Carol for what she had done to me. Maybe it was too raw, the feelings too fresh, and he would mourn his old friend in his own time, but for now she seemed to be the furthest thing from his heart. He rose and lightly touched my shoulder before he perched on the arm of the sofa between me and the door.
The Professor reached out with his mind and summoned Psylocke to his office. In a matter of moments, an Elisabeth Braddock in full uniform prowled through the door. Her watchful eyes narrowed when she realized she had an audience, but her face revealed nothing.
"You wished to see me, Charles?" Logan twitched next to me and the Professor shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. He was probably working overtime to shield our thoughts, especially Logan's fury, from Betsy. Psylocke would have never come into that study if she could read what was surely in the Wolverine's mind.
The Professor gestured to the couch opposite ours. "Yes. There is something that has been brought to my attention. Please, sit." He sat when she did, taking his position behind the massive antique desk. How she sat in that costume of hers, I'll never know. If you needed a bikini wax just to wear your ninja gear, there was a problem in my book. Though, maybe a bigger problem was why I was cracking jokes in my head during something so serious.
Tenting his fingers, Xavier observed Betsy cautiously, while she showed us all her mastery of resting bitch face. The Professor started slowly. "One of the goals of this school, and by extension, the X-Men, has been to strive for the betterment of society by bettering the lives of individuals. As a teacher and mentor, I have tried to lead through example, to provide my students with the tools necessary to make difficult decisions. I may not always agree with some of the choices each of you make in the heat of the moment, but I find I can support those made with the best of intentions at heart, when you are striving for the greater good. Means must justify the ends, but the world is rarely black and white in the struggle between life and death..."
Betsy's eyes moved slowly between Logan, the Professor, and I, and her posture shifted imperceptibly, her muscles tensed, ready. "While I love a rousing sermon as much as the next, Charles, I do find myself wondering if there is a point to all of this?" Her eyes stopped at me and she tilted her head slightly. A wave of anger crashed over me, but I felt the Professor put a mental hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.
"The point, Elisabeth, is that as part of this school, your actions must reflect, at the very basic, strong moral principles. For ordinary humans to accept mutants and their powers, especially when dealing with something as invasive as telepathy, trust is required, a sacred trust that you broke when you violated the mind of a fellow teammate."
"And what of her violation?" Her voice was cold, as dead as her eyes. "Violation. What a wonderful euphemism, Charles. She murdered Carol Danvers, and you welcomed her into your home with open arms. Where was the morality, the justice in your decision?"
Logan snarled beside me. "So who made you judge, jury, and executioner, Betts?"
"Who made you?" she shot back. "How dare you, Logan, of all people, stand in judgement of me! You take the law into your hands with every slash of your unbreakable claws. I merely seized an opportunity to mete out a well-deserved sentence."
The ice in the Professor's voice dropped the room ten degrees. "I find it very disturbing that one of my students can so calmly justify such a reprehensible action. It is a quantum leap to classify Rogue's absorption of Carol's mind as cold-blooded murder. It was an accident, she was barely more than a child at the time and did not know the full extent of her power. While ignorance is never an excuse in the eyes of the law, Rogue has made reparations and the real Carol Danvers still lives and flourishes in her original body. Whereas you, Elisabeth, with all the power at your disposal, know better than any the consequences of your actions. You and Major Danvers continued this…charade…for years, assuring me you were both doing everything you could to help your missing teammate in her time of need, living in my home while the pair of you lied to my face. Instead of aiding her, you left Rogue to rot in the depths of her own mind, all while working to conceal the traces of your mistake."
"My mistake?" Betsy stood suddenly, the bitch no longer resting. "Letting her crime remain unpunished was the mistake!" Logan was on his feet in the blink of an eye and bared his teeth and claws. Betsy's laugh was cold. "Is that how you now see me, Charles? A mistake to be rectified? Carol is gone, is it my turn?"
"Logan, no!" I wanted to jump up and wipe that sick smile off of her face, and I nearly went for Logan's bare skin with mine to absorb his power, but I wouldn't do that to him again, not after what I had inadvertently put him through. They squared off against one another in the middle of Xavier's study, two predators taking their measure. "Don't do it, sugar!" I pleaded. "She ain't worth it!"
"And you are?" Betsy spat.
I didn't want her blood on my hands, but it seemed she had no such compunction. "What did I ever do to you, Betsy, to make you hate me so much?"
"You didn't do anything to me, you did it to Carol Danvers. You ripped her from her rightful body and sentenced her to a slow death, left to watch the world through eyes that were not her own from the silent prison of your mind! This was a grave miscarriage of justice, one I could not, would not, let stand. Carol deserved her chance, her freedom! You should have stayed buried!" Logan lunged for her, and her psychic knife, the focused totality of her telepathic powers, flashed to life.
'ENOUGH!' The Professor stopped them dead in their tracks with a single thought. "I, Elisabeth, am not as cruel, as calculating in my decisions. You may take that as a sign of weakness, but..."
She sneered and backed towards the door, her psychic knife still pulsing. "And what, Professor, do you intend to do about it? I have broken no law, and using your powers against me would make you a hypocrite of the highest level."
God dammit, as messed up as it was, as furious and hurt as I was, I had a sick feeling she was right. I didn't want her to die for what she had done to me, didn't want the Professor to wipe her mind or take her powers, that would make us just as bad as she was. An eye for an eye? That was a slippery slope that could be turned against me after what I had done to Carol. We couldn't arrest her or put her on trial, and even if we could, who would hold her? S.H.I.E.L.D.? The Avengers? They'd probably lock up the whole lot of us, too. If we took care of her in house, where would we keep her? Would we lock her away in the lower depths of the mansion never to be seen again? Just the sight of her made my stomach turn, I didn't want to be anywhere near her anymore. All I wanted was to never have to see her face again. I just wanted it over.
The Professor nodded his head like he had heard me, which o' course he had. "Very well, Rogue. Though it pains me to admit it, there is nothing I can do to you, Elisabeth, that would equal the pain you have caused, not without becoming that which we fight so hard to overcome. What I cannot, will not abide, is your continued presence in my home. You have until morning to vacate the premises, at which point you will be escorted from the grounds. Your affiliation with the X-Men is over, your security clearance stripped. Be thankful I do not see fit at this time to do more, but know this: if you ever seek retaliation or retribution against Rogue, or any other mutant for that matter, if I find you have used your telepathic abilities against another being, I will find you, and you will never see me coming."
The Professor was the only thing that stopped Logan from tearing her to pieces on her way out the door.
Hours later, I sat and stared over the night blackened grounds, the view from the rooftop new and different, yet comfortingly familiar. Perched at the edge, my injured leg dangling beneath me, the sandy scrape of the shingles bit at my bare skin. I sighed, inhaling the smell of the woods, of grass. This used to be my spot, before the rebuild, before the years in the dusty barren Australian Outback, before the time spent as a frozen nothing in a mental void. I shifted and winced, trying my best to get comfortable, but the puckered scar from my healed chest wound stretched beneath the loose tank top I wore. I knew I wasn't supposed to be up here, McCoy would pitch a fit if he knew I had climbed out here when I was barely allowed to leave the hospital wing, but he was knee deep in his lab. I was under strict orders to stay put, but I just had to get outside after my run-ins with Warren and Betsy.
Both were gone, Betsy hadn't even waited until morning to get out of dodge. I wasn't sure how I felt about her exile. Did I think she deserved to be punished? And if so, how? Tortured? Maimed? Imprisoned? By who? Under whose authority? There was no real precedence for this in the history of the X-Men, usually it was villains we were chastising, not one of our own. The Professor had taken his cue from my mind when he kicked her out, but I was still a conflicted angry jumble. All this was just one more mess I couldn't bring myself to think about, but one thing I was sure of? I was glad she was gone. I could hardly stand to look at her anymore it hurt my heart so much. When I was stronger, we'd maybe have it out between us. Until then...
Panic rippled goosebumps up the length of my exposed skin. Logan had done his best to calm me down after what had happened, but the truth of it was, the time had maybe come for me to leave, too. Did they even want me here? A snarly voice deep down reminded me that nobody did, never had. My continued presence was pullin' the team apart. I was nothing but a thief and a murderer, had taken the life of Carol Danvers not once, but twice. The worst part, I was still too hurt to leave, and my injuries made it nearly impossible on my own, I still couldn't drive or walk unaided long distances. I was trapped. The moonlit grounds blurred in a haze of tears and I covered my mouth with a hand to muffle a sob.
"Y'supposed to be in bed." The voice was rough and smooth at the same time, silk slid slowly over gravel. I jumped, the pain in my leg stabbing anew. My time was up. Gambit was back, and McCoy had sent his enforcer to bring me back. I frantically wiped the traitorous tears that had slid their way down my cheeks. "Doctor's orders, cherie," the voice smirked.
"Let me guess, Gambit. You're here to fill the prescription." I didn't turn my head towards the cupola that lead back into the mansion, but I heard his light footsteps tread across the rooftop towards me, could imagine the playful smile that surely tugged at those lips. Those lips…those eyes…I couldn't stand to be near him right now, he was my own personal torture chamber, hot as hades, he'd surely burn me if I touched him. It's not like I hadn't ever flirted with guys before, but thanks to my powers that was the beginning and end of most of my relationships. I was far from okay with it, but it was what it was. Why the hell was this man getting to me so badly? He was so…infuriating, never took no for an answer. A thief used to getting what he wanted, no matter the price if everyone was to be believed, a man covered in shadows, a man not to be trusted. For him, the bigger the challenge, the better the game. The flirting was fun, but I was kidding myself if I believed it meant anything to him. He only wanted me because he couldn't have me, and if there ever was a miracle, if I could ever learn to control my powers the way Carol had, Gambit would be gone in a cloud of dust. So, why did my palms start to sweat whenever he was near me? Why did I find him so…interesting? He was gorgeous, no denying that, but there was more, behind those eyes, there was something else, something sweet and caring, and lonely…or was I just telling myself that? Was Warren right? Was Gambit just playing with me?
He crouched next to me and lit a cigarette, the orange flames highlighting a chiseled jaw decorated with its usual stubble. He spoke with his lips wrapped around it. "That wasn't my intention, no. But, now that you mention it…"
I sighed, biting my lower lip, and leaned my head back to look for the twinkling of the stars. "Can ya' just…leave me alone, Remy? Please?"
He blew a stream of smoke into the night sky, the burning end of the cigarette reflected in his eyes. "You sure about that, petite?"
"Yes," I replied, but my voice shook on the word.
He took another drag, then ground it out against the rooftop. "Funny. Way I hear it, you been alone a long time. That's no way to live."
My temper stared to get the better of me. "That's the way it has to be."
"Non, that's how you want it to be."
I swung narrowed eyes towards him. "You think I want this? To be at the mercy of my powers? T'be so out of control that the slightest touch takes a piece of a person's soul…or worse? I have t'be alone…"
He scooted towards me, but I was out of rooftop, nowhere to go. "Out of control?" he whispered roughly. "Your whole life is about being in control. Controlling who and where and when, you throw a wall around yourself, girl, a fortress protecting you from anybody tryin' to get in…"
The anger bubbling just under my skin boiled over furiously. "And what about you? You're preachin' to me all about control, about cutting loose, but when have you ever reigned it in? You're completely ridiculous! You act like you're so much better than everybody here, but you're just like them, every word that passes those lips is nothing but a lie, a manipulation! Is this all just a big game to you? Does it even matter if someone gets hurt?" I childishly let out the other thought I had kept picking at like a scab since my conversation with Warren. "Were you even plannin' on telling me you were married, or had that slipped your mind?"
He leaned over, coming centimeters from touching his body against mine. I gasped, my heart hammering, his eyes dangerous. "We tellin' secrets now, Rogue? Nobody know where you really come from, don't even know your real name, but that's just more of the same, isn't it? A way for you to keep everybody at arm's length. Like I said, it's no way to live, cherie."
"What am I supposed to do?" I hissed, unable to escape his stare. "It's better this way. I can't risk hurtin' anyone else." We stared at each other across the night. He was so close, too close, making my head spin.
His lips were so near, I could feel each syllable he breathed against mine. "You listen to me, girl. Anybody that cares about you be more than willin' to take the risk." He leaned back abruptly and stood, stepping cat-like back towards the mansion, leaving me practically panting, my still aching scars restricting every heaving breath. He called back over his shoulder. "You come find me when you figure that out."
By the time I hobbled down from the roof it was nearly dawn. The night and day had given me too much to think about and my head pounded to match the throbbing in my leg. Using a cane, I shuffled slowly through the halls back towards the infirmary, expecting them to be deserted at this late hour, but ran smack into Bobby Drake, nearly knocking us both to the ground. One more thing I had discovered missing since Carol was gone, my coordination. I had gotten too used to flight and superstrength givin' me a certain amount of grace, and my body was havin' a hard time adjusting.
He held me out from his chest and looked me up and down. "What the hell are you doing without your wheelchair? I came to see you in the infirmary and you're not there, then that sleazeball Gambit says you're up on the freaking roof? Are you crazy?"
I wrenched myself from his grasp and prepared to give him a piece of my mind, but in the soft light of the hall I took a good look at him. Bobby's face was a mess of scrapes and bruises, and his costume was torn. I laid a careful hand on his cheek and my heart sank when he recoiled from my touch. "Sugar," I said quietly, "I thought y'all were on Muir Island? What happened?"
He sighed and slowly leaned into my gloved hand. "It was a disaster, just like I said it would be. Mastermind screwed with our heads, big surprise, then some whack-job named the X-Cutioner attacked us."
"Is Jean…?"
"No, she's okay. Pete's not, though. This X-Cutioner guy nailed him pretty hard with some alien weapon. They've got him downstairs in the infirmary. Then it's my turn."
I tiled his chin up so he would look at me. "Your turn?" His cuts and scrapes had seemed superficial at first glance, but I pulled back and patted him over.
That got a grin out of him, but just barely, and he grabbed my hands in his. "Stop, that tickles… Jean, Bishop, and I got pulled into Mastermind's little fantasy world. The Professor just wants to make sure we're all okay." He shook his head. "We got our asses handed to us, almost got beat by some third-rate douchebag. Warren never even showed!"
I grimaced. "That'd be my fault, sugar." I filled him in on our dangerous little spat in the hallway, Bobby's wide eyes gettin' more livid every second.
"He's always been such a dick." His gloved finger lightly traced the razor thin scratch from where Warren's metal wings had kissed my cheek. "That was too close," he whispered, his hooded eyes worried.
I pulled away from his touch. "It's been a long day. Can you walk me to the infirmary?"
Disappointed, he offered me his arm and we both limped to the elevator. Bobby was the world's biggest sweetheart, but he was definitely more like a dorky brother to me than my knight in shining armor, and the last thing I needed to encourage was a puppy dog crush. My life was complicated enough.
He pushed the button and we both leaned against the back wall, our shoulders touching. He rolled his head to face me. "The Prof said Betsy took off, too?"
"Also my fault." I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.
He rested his head on top of my hair and I felt his face smile. "You had a very busy day."