Disclaimer: See chapter one.
AN: I know, right? How dare you not update in two months. Trust me when I say things have been rough; and my love for anything except breathing has been absent. But I'm slowly rebuilding, slowly coming back to things that brought me joy. Slowly "taking back my power" as some people (women mostly – you meet the nicest people in the world when you're least expecting it), have told me. It's a progress.
Now, a revelation I just had when updating my profile – holy crap. I've been on this site for 9 years. 9 years. That's almost a decade. And yet my obsession with cartoons/ comics has yet to go away. I think I need help.
So without any further words, or more meaningless Author Notes, I give you an update; enjoy!
"A burnt child dreads the fire", - English Proverb.
"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts." – English Proverb.
Chapter 11
"Listen ice bitch," Logan snarls as he opens the Professor's office. Or would it be considered 'Ro's now that the Prof is gone and she's in charge? It didn't matter. It still looked the same, would smell the same too if the flowers didn't just add a twinge of perfume. Logan sets his eyes on the blonde, her pale blue eyes just as hot with anger as his own navy orbs. Her hands begin to shift into a deadly metallic luster. "You and I need to have a talk." His claws pop out, the 'snitck' whispering in the silent room, answering her quiet challenge. Try it. "So start talking."
"Logan," Storm reprimands across the way. She is still in her uniform, her white locks not as lively as normal. He can see the wear in her brown eyes and the edge in her lips. Kurt is sitting on the mantel, his blue speckled jacket hanging off his form along with his new X-Men leather uniform. Lines of red circle along the seams surrounding his groin making it look like a speedo. "Emma is our guest now. She has vital information she wishes to divulge with us. Information you should be aware of too. She was just about to share this willingly."
"Information she sent Rogue through a wall for?" He's breathing roughly; his anger is pushing him to maddening levels. He can only see red. "No information is worth that."
Rogue was the one of the few he'd give his life for. She was his friend. He was supposed to protect her. And this woman is really pissing him off with that brilliant smirk she wears along with her dangerously good looking pale face. His claws itch to dig along her jaw, to mar that too white of skin with red.
"Information you should listen to… Logan." She spits out and Logan inches forward, growling under his breath as his hands reach out. He is only mildly aware of his actions. He can only imagine ripping her head off from her dainty shoulders.
"That was Rogue's decision Logan." Storm stands, her heels clicking harshly on the wooden beams. The cape is a soft flutter of noise as she places her body between Logan and Emma. Logan can smell the calla lilies instantly. "I let her make that decision." She whispers, catching his one out stretched hand by the wrist. Her hands are soft and warm but the grasp is firm.
He wants to shake her off. He has every right to shake her off, and his arm tightens to do so. Logan pulls back, ready to shove her away if need be but it dies away when he sees the lost look on Storm's face. Her eyes are clouded, lips scrunched to hide behind her perfect mask of indifference and soothing calm. He thinks he is the only one in the mansion that can see her mask; others willingly accept she is calm and a force because she is the leader now and is strong.
Logan knows differently.
She fights for it because if not, Storm will surely crack under the weight of her emotions that are crippling.
He can see she blames herself for Rogue's current situation. She is field leader, she is Head Mistress of the school, and it is her job to protect the students. And she had let Rogue touch Emma, knowing in her heart it was not safe. Rogue's condition is fickle and Storm had been blinded by knowledge that could help the entire school; blinded to the fact it could irrevocably hurt Rogue.
Guilt crashes on to Logan who shakes his head at the tall woman. He is answering her silent questions; do you hate me? Do you blame me? Is this my fault? That last one she already thinks so, it is obvious by the way she bites her bottom lip to hold everything in while still remaining strong. Logan can't fault her though for her choices; in her shoes, Logan would have done the same thing. Without a viable telepath, the only mutant who can give them answers is Rogue.
And it is more important to save many over one. It always would be.
And like a coward Logan had run after the battle with the White Queen so the team really had no one else to ask for help. He wants to blame Storm, he really wants to blame Emma – but ultimately Logan blames himself for Rogue's bed ridden state. If he had stayed, if he had helped…
"You did what you had to do," Logan replies gruffly, rubbing her arm, anger momentarily forgotten. He can feel compassion for 'Ro, his only stable friend since the very beginning of his life with the X-Men. The only one with the balls to tell him either get on board or to jump ship. "You made the right call," he whispers. Her watery brown eyes look at him with something akin to gratitude and adoration. Logan feels choked up.
Then Emma ruins it by sounding off a rude snort. "Can we please get this show on the road? I have places to be, and none of them include being near that beast." Her nose turns up at the thought and she crosses her sullenly.
Closing her eyes, Storm nods silently to Logan. It is a thanks but also a quiet reminder to behave. Logan doesn't hesitate to know she means business; he didn't want a lightning bolt frying his ass anytime soon. "Yes, please Ms. Frost. Tell us what you so desperately needed to say." She turns to look over her shoulder at the scantily clad young woman. "And why you felt the need to attack two of my staff."
Rolling her eyes, Emma picks at her nails. They are painted a fine blue, matching the thin vein that travels her collarbone. Everything about the woman screams of cold, harsh, brute force; of distance and frost. "It's not like I hurt them permanently. And as I told the girl, it isn't my fault you let animals roam your halls. They should be locked away." Her eyes are flat as she looks at Logan. His claws still haven't retracted. "Because they are nothing short of monsters."
"Then the same argument can be made of me," Kurt responds, tail whooshing behind him. Quickly he jumps from the fireplace, height only coming to Ororo's shoulder. He holds up his hand. "I look like a monster, therefore I am one. Correct?"
"That isn't my point-"
"No, you only wish to hold past sins against someone who has already repaid his debts. Though he does not remember said past sins." Storm says smartly, arms crossing over her chest. "Now, you're information?"
Emma huffs, grudgingly respecting the Weather Witch. It has been a long time a woman has been able to put Emma Grace Frost into her proper place. Not since her mother was sober. Which was a long time indeed.
Now facing three members of the core group of the X-Men, Emma stalls. She remembers peering into Xavier's mind, seeing his X-Men flourish in team simulated battles and during the real final ones. Something akin to pride grows in her chest at knowing how the man feels for his students, and how the students still respect the man. Emma can tell most of the mansion has been left as a symbol to the man they adored. But fear creeps up her spine. How will they react to the news? How will they react to her telling them this sort of news?
And now that Emma has finally figured out who Rogue is – how will they react knowing she is the only one that can bring the Professor out of his unconscious state?
The girl is weakened from the Cure – Emma could feel it during the absorption process. It should have been stronger. The pull should have been greater. Something was holding back a great amount of her power. Emma should have been out much longer than a few minutes; she could tell this just from the brush of skin to skin. Emma felt her mind. The Cure was harnessing still some of her gifts which have not yet been released. It hinders Rogue's full potential, hinders the magnitude of her strength but aids in her development and control.
And Emma can feel it, control is slowly coming; though she doubts Rogue notices it. It is why she is so unbalanced; it's why sometimes it takes longer to absorb or just mere nanoseconds for the rush of memories to assault her. A part of Rogue's brain, the part that knows control, is slowly awakening, slowly coming into its' own without the shock of an absorption hindering its' development. Rogue is learning control; albeit subconsciously. She just had to learn to tap into it consciously.
Emma feels this. Rogue was a powerful mutant, with unknown recesses. Her mind was complex, riddled in mazes. From a brief touch Emma knows Rogue is someone to watch should she be on the other end. No matter how uncertain her powers are now, Rogue will evolve, and she will be formidable.
Emma briefly wonders if the Professor knew this and if he had still been with them, instead of in a comatose body, if he would have developed the part of her brain psychically to allow her control. If so, Emma then is even more uncertain of Rogue's full potential; she will not say scared, for Emma Frost does not know true fear; but uncertain nonetheless.
Then the thoughts leave her as her eyes settle on the waiting X-Men. She bites her lip, sitting up straighter. Was Rogue powerful enough right now to help Xavier? He seemed to think so, but he hadn't exactly been aware that she took the Cure. He had guessed it, but hadn't known. And Rogue's powers are held back, the whole amount and control would be needed to bring Xavier out of his state.
They would need to make Rogue have control; at least some portion of it. Without control, the girl wouldn't be able to touch the Professor without seriously injuring him or even herself. And they would need to find someone strong enough, mentally and with great recesses to develop her control. The bloody school barely had any psychic power, where would they find someone to help?
Emma shakes her head – she didn't rightly care, just that her side of the deal was upheld. Yet being trapped in Rogue's body, flirting between control and not had to be a truly horrible way to live. They would have to make her gain control otherwise Xavier was screwed; and so was Emma.
"Well?" Storm prompts and Emma glares. It's now or never. They might not like her now, but after all this is done, they'll surely hate her. They'll hate that she brought them good news and bad. They'll hate why she was the one to steal the artifact. They hate what she is a part of. Who she is 'destined' to bring back from the grave.
Especially Logan. She cannot stand the man, but she knew how her sister felt about him. And that ebbs some of her anger away knowing the man has killed the woman she is to return. The woman he loved in this life was to come back and continually haunt him. Something in Emma weeps for the man, but her colder side sneers; served him right for leading Kayla to her death.
But can she really fault him when her sister made the choice? When her sister stayed back to find him? When her sister refused help and allowed the bullet to fester and eventually kill her?
No she can't fault him. But it was so much easier to hate him than to understand him. Living among them for only eighteen hours and she's already a bleeding heart. Perfect.
She sighs, resolved to her fate. If this was to help her family, to stop Shaw – who she has never been fond of since the moment he thought he could own her - she will have to face these people and their possible hate, anger, and grief. And she'll do it gracefully. "I was sent here by someone you know. Professor Charles Xavier."
Before her eyes, Storm grows in height, hands rising into the air, eyes glowing in hot white anger. Her cloudy locks dance with electricity and within seconds a hurtling bolt of opaque is being sent straight into Emma's chest.
Luckily the young woman had been expecting a reaction and had armored herself just as the tip of the lightning bolt struck her chest. It is powerful enough to careen her backwards, the rustic wooden chair flipping with her. Before smacking her head, and her vision darkening, she hears a gruff voice snort, then say: "I like your hospitality 'Ro."
Rogue clenches her hands against the cool soft sheet. They feel too smooth to be her old worn in sheets. Her eyes are still closed but she breathes, smelling the air. The harsh smell of bleach and antiseptic assaults her nose making her sneeze.
She hears ruffling, and then a much larger hand encases her smaller one. It is warm and instantly she can smell amber, day old cologne and spice with an underlying scent of tobacco. Slowly Rogue's eyes flutter open and lock on to the twin red on black orbs two inches from her nose.
"Y'awake." He breathes and Rogue can tell he's fighting with himself to stay still. His arms tighten, muscles bunching, as if he wants to grab her. "Y'alright?"
"Ah'm fine." She mumbles, cheeks dusting pink from his attention. She pushes back a strand of white hair, noticing her gloves off.
She springs forward, snaking her hand away from Remy. Her heart is pounding, the threat of another absorption in her head. First Bobby, then Emma. She could still hear her rants within her mind, echoing out even though she's spent the better part of the last twelve hours locking her away. Her psyche is strong and it doesn't help she's telepathic.
"It's okay chere," he sighs, pulling his hand from the sheets. He waves them; their gloved. He must know about her powers and Rogue is at once disappointed to have a part of herself shared so openly and yet grateful that she doesn't have to explain her curse; or a blessing as Kurt has told her. "Just didn't think you wanted to be alone in dere. It can be lonely on y'own."
"Somethin' like that," she mutters, not wanting to discuss her emotions with the stranger. But something about him draws Rogue to him. Perhaps it is Logan's influence, having known the man when he was younger and knowing how good he could be if persuaded correctly. He's honorable even if he has made poor choices in the past; Logan vouches for him inside her mind as images of him flying a plane and helping a pack of kids run for safety comes to her unheeded.
Or perhaps it is Emma the White Queen in her head – she has a foul mouth and wandering eyes that have noticed the moment since Remy has spoken, how delectable he is.
But Rogue knows in the end it is her personal attraction toward the man – older, charming, dangerous, and kind. She can feel a good vibe beneath his rough exterior and a kinship not easily experienced with those in the Institute. She's only ever felt it with Logan and Kurt, strangely enough. Not even Bobby could connect with her on that level.
"Who brought me here?" She asks, tugging at her strands, instead of drooling at the man in front of her. Instead she thinks about herself; she needs a shower, a new change of clothes and her gloves. Because she cannot help the want to reach out and touch the man sitting to her left.
"I did," he states softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed to her left. He's close enough to offer comfort but far enough not to intrude on her space. Oddly, she feels respected; no one else has ever thought of her want for distance before and accommodated her. "After y'and Emma had your moment, I brought ya back here. Y'were shifting in your sleep, from human to diamond self. You kept screaming somethin' fierce too."
Rogue nods, rubbing her forehead. Images come to her, blurry and unknowing easily. She sees a man with black eyes grinning over a desk; she feels the love of an older brother hiding his true self; she remembers a soft smile of an older half sibling, not ever seen again. She shakes her head, making the images recede. "She's one messed up lately," she jokes lightly. She points to her head. "She's pretty dark in there."
"Ain't gotta tell me twice," he smiles. Rogue notices the wear on him; he's still in his battle uniform.
She smiles tiredly, leaning against the pillows, hiding under the covers more; more to do with the effect his eyes are having on her, instead of the way her little clothing provides next to no protection should something happen. She feels like burrowing and running away; his eyes warm her and burn her. Just having him near her makes her want to touch him; to feel if he is as hot as his eyes are.
She knows this isn't healthy; she knows she should be more attentive and know that a simple brush of skin to skin would be deadly. She knows she should shrink away and hide. She knows this because she has done it with everyone; even with friends though she wants them not to be frightened; it is her way, her wall. But she doesn't want the wall now. She doesn't feel the need to be careful around this charming devil; she's feeling reckless.
She doesn't want to hide here and now. Not with him. Not here, when she needs a friend, and she can't fight the attraction of having him so close or the thrill of wearing next to nothing with him on the bed. It's been a long time since Rogue has felt any emotion outside of her normal moodiness. Finally she feels alive and wanted; his eyes tell her as much though she tries to ignore the hot glances. She is still naive though not as much as Logan would believe. Greedily she takes it all in, enjoying the rush, powers be damned.
"You stayed the whole time with me?"
He ducks his head, chuckling softly. He shrugs, not quite looking at her, but the far wall. If she didn't know him so well (thank you Logan), she'd say he is almost embarrassed. "I did. I didn't feel right leaving you by y'self. I did for a moment though, to check on Logan." He shrugs again, whistling low. "Boy just about threw a tantrum when he saw you here. The metal walls by the old med lab are torn to pieces. You two are close."
Rogue smirks, face prettily blushing. Though she was still mad, well irritated, at Logan; at running, at being afraid, she won't deny they are close. And the fact that he ran from himself is nothing short of what she has done in the past; twice now. She easily forgives him, even for the bruises that have healed. That's what friends do.
It's as much as she said to Emma; Logan wasn't a beast, and she wouldn't treat him like one because he did the most human thing he could've when he was faced with a reality he couldn't understand. He ran. Rogue did it. She doesn't care now that he did. In fact, she empathizes with him for it.
But also knowing Logan, he sees her in the bed as his fault. He is protective and takes responsibility for her; he has since he first found her. She adores him for it, but she is an adult now and she can very well make her own decisions. She would have to set him straight on that; it was her choice. It's her power. It's her life.
But first thing is first; she has to know about the man in front of her. She feels compelled to keep the conversation going even if she knows there are more pressing issues around her. Something, a doubt, a hint of a memory comes to her… but it is faint, and she'd rather talk to the charming man in front of her.
"We are. He's the closest that Ah have to family here," she smiles, shyly adjusting another strip of white behind her ear. She's coy; Remy likes that about her. "Him and Kurt anyway." Rogue completely misses Remy's shocked expression and chews on her lip in thought. "They watch out for me like two over protective brothers. It's nice sometimes."
Remy nods in understanding, though his hot eyes have dimmed yet the want is still there. It makes Rogue feel special. "We all need family chere," he adjusts his legs, coming closer. Since she hasn't rebuked his nearness, he tries to push closer. She draws him to her like a moth to a candle. She's forbidden, she is lush and he desperately wants to kiss her pale lips…
He shakes himself. Boy, he needs help. It's been too long, he thinks, since he's been with a woman. That must explain his desperate need to be near the innocent vixen. "Stormy and me? We's pretty close too; like brother and sister."
"Ah noticed," she laughs lightly. "She's a good person to have in your corner. 'Ro is…" she smiles, though her eyes are distant. "When the Professor passed, and when Jean and Scott did too," Remy notices the slight tremble in her bottom lip and hands. The grief was still fresh; he wonders idly if what Kurt said was true. The X-Men are a family; misfits bound together by understanding. It sure is different than his home life. "'Ro took control so easily. She stepped right in. She helped us to reopen the doors. She helped us to grieve." She shrugs good naturally. "She's amazing."
"Mon Dieu, I know chere." He laughs roughly. "She's helped this scamp out more times than I can remember."
Soon they find themselves into a deep conversation, explaining the different times one of more people has helped to save their sorry asses. Remy feels himself relax, calmed in a way that oddly reminds him of home; of soft jasmine blooms assaulting the bayou air with their perfume, of long sweeping willow trees hiding youngsters from their parents, and smoking cigarettes without their knowledge; of him saving a blonde girl from a bunch of thugs, and her stealing his heart in thanks.
Though that memory should frighten him, it only makes him feel better; like coming home after years of travel.
The warmth of their conversation draws them both closer until Remy can see the light day old make up on Rogue's eyelids, and see her stark grey emerald eyes are a fine green, like nothing he has seen before, hidden behind thick auburn eyelashes. Her rosebud mouth, light pink like a lotus is tempting and Remy draws even closer. Her words barely make it into his ears. The self preservation telling him to calm down dies away – he doesn't remember her power can hurt him and frankly he doesn't care. He's always been a rebel and used to shutting out his conscious.
"…Then Kurt teleported me back on to the plane! Storm had to try and steer us down safely and luckily enough we were able to land without any real problems." She's excited, talkative and Rogue realizes this is the first in months she's actually wanted to talk. Since Bobby and her broke up, since Logan's random missions to take in more at risk mutants in far distant states, since Jean's been gone (a confident in the past) and 'Ro off attending to school matters, Rogue has been out of the loop. She's missed companionship (though she does get a good dose with Petey, just the more silent type and a constant exercising partner which she cherishes) and for the first time in awhile being with Remy has made the normally reluctant girl come out of her festering shell.
Then she notices his lips are in her view; the day old stubble that surrounds a strong jaw and twin red on black eyes are staring at her own lips with deep fascination. Her blood warms up, making her chest and cheeks faintly hot.
It's those same eyes that cause her head to spin; and not in a good way.
Suddenly she's inside a warehouse, his eyes still trained on her lips, yet instead of the sheer intent look, this one is of coy hunger and flirtatious arrogance. She feels her mind explode and she's teleported to another place; where the world is black and grey and she hears a voice of someone she thought she would never hear again.
Remy watches as Rogue leans forward, biting the corner of her plump mouth before she is rocketed back against the high stack of pillows, eyes shutting against an unseen pain. It doesn't take long for Remy to jump, grabbing her shoulders to steady her as tears leak from her covered eyes. She's screaming – sobbing, crying out and the sound rips his heart out of his chest – but he holds her as best he can with flailing arms and legs.
"Rogue? Rogue! Y'okay in there? Can ya hear me?"
But the words fall on deaf ears as Rogue pushes up in a rapid motion, seeing but unseeing, forehead smacking against Remy's sharp chin. The physical pain jolts her out of the memories, the images that she wishes she didn't see – but then again she is glad she saw and she smiles, wet tracks down her cheeks. She saw him. She heard him – the Professor.
"He's still alive!" She shouts, kicking the covers from her bare legs. She's only in a dressing gown that she knows Hank clothed her in; but she doesn't care. She notices Remy doesn't flinch when she bares more skin and oddly she feels empowered.
She remembers that even now sometimes her friends do.
"Who's alive girl?" He asks confused, pushing stray auburn locks from his forehead. His chin is throbbing but he ignores the pain to focus on her heart shaped face. Rogue is watching him brimming with excitement. She notices the black tie has slipped and pieces are framing his face; it makes him look even more rugged. "What are you talking about?"
"The Professor!" She grips his arms, luckily covered with his trench coat and yanks. Hard. Remy is surprised by her strength. "Help me up, Remy. Ah need to talk to 'Ro and Logan." She stands on shaky legs, thoughts of moving propelling her though her legs remain unchanged. Her mind is barely making sense but she knows what she has to do; what she has to say. Could it really be him? "He's alive! She's here to help!"
"What?" Remy asks again, feeling as if the world is too quick for him to grasp. His arms snake around her waist – curved, but tight and he can't help but remember how her lips looked and he was this close – but holds her steady as she fumbles to the door. She doesn't notice the touch, too caught up n her thoughts and actions.
If she had, Remy knows she would've pulled away. He'd like to think because it was him and not another male, that maybe she wouldn't. He deludes himself to think it's true.
She's speaking incoherently, but Remy (being the gentleman that he is) doesn't mind because she's in his arms and mon Dieu, it feels so right. Carefully they enter and exit the elevator and as if possessed Rogue practically drags him toward Storm's office. She knows they'll be in there, she knows because she (Emma, he gathers from the bits of conversation coming from her mouth that makes sense) planned on having a conversation in the Professor's office.
The door whips open, Rogue having abandoned his arms in favor of walking on her own; he's slightly disappointed and yet impressed by her strength and will. She's barely tittering now. Remy glances around and sees a diamonded woman is lying on the floor, groaning as Storm is being held back by Kurt across the way. Her eyes are white and Logan's smirk and arrogant stance tells Remy everything.
"Ah so y'already know about the Prof eh?" He states bluntly, having six sets of eyes on him; Emma doesn't count because her eyes closed against the pain he's sure Stormy's bolt gave her.
But he doesn't have to explain before Rogue jumps in. "She's telling the truth!" She's jumping around, her legs shaking under strain, her palms sweating wildly. Remy can feel a slight fever burning in her body and he steadies a hand on the small of her back to settle her.
He'd like to pretend he doesn't see the joint stares from all three X-Men, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't notice. It makes him inch closer to the girl; always the rebel, breaking rules. That was him alright.
"Rogue, child, calm yourself." Ororo soothes, righting the anger inside of her to a deep dark place that she reserves all negative or harmful emotions. Remy knows all about Stormy's dark side. It almost makes him pull away from the girl. "Speak again, slowly."
"Emma is telling ya the truth," she says after gulping down a breath of fresh air. Remy can smell the exotic perfume of the flowers by the windows and instantly he's reminded of Ororo in her native lands. "The Professor is alive!"
"Well it's about time you woke up," The White Queen grumbles, easing herself up to the floor. Her elbows prop her up, and her ice blue gaze surrounded by her organic metal scares Remy; just slightly. She looks like a cold statue. "And of course I was telling the truth. Lying doesn't help me right now."
Rogue ignores her. "Ah saw it, in my head." She points to her skull as Logan comes closer. He grips her head in both palms, the curtain of hair helping him not to be drained by his friend and pupil. "She's telling the truth. He came to her – asked for her help to bring him back!"
"You didn't hit your head or anything in there, did you kid?" Logan asks lowly, kind eyes staring into Rogue's wide and excited ones. The green really pops when she's excited.
She stares at him thoughtfully; the question is more than a simple yes or no. He's asking if she forgives him; he's asking if she could ever forgive him for running. After all it's not like Logan to back down from a fight; he's too honorable. Too just no matter what he might be running from.
Rogue doesn't even hesitate as she hugs him, subconsciously careful to wrap her arms around his middle, his leather jacket crinkling as Logan returns the gesture. Remy backs away after Logan gives him a warning look; this was his time now with Rogue and he was not to intrude. The hand leaves her back and he stands beside Storm. She raises an eyebrow but refuses to comment.
"Very touching," Emma remarks dryly. She is standing now, her cape pushed back and her uniform casting her body into the light. Remy is male, so he glances; but his eyes never last long as they go back to Rogue who is pulling from Logan. "Can we get on with this?"
"Emma is telling the truth, Logan." Rogue says again, still ignoring the White Queen. She's irritated and Remy smirks; he can feel Kurt obvious pleasure at annoying the woman too. "The Professor is in a comatose body; the one we were studying in his class a year ago. He needs us to release him."
"How?" Kurt asks, tail twitching behind him. His eyes are glowing in the afternoon sun. "We're not even sure if that's possible. And if so, who would have the capabilities of bringing a man back from death?" It doesn't take anyone long to figure out that Kurt might not like the idea of disturbing those who have found peace.
Emma doesn't care; she steps forward, pushing her blonde hair from her eyes. "I'm needed as well as Rogue is to draw him out. The Professor hasn't explained exact details yet, but he said Rogue is very much needed to do this. Whatever this is."
"No," Logan snarls, gripping Rogue closer to his side as if protecting her from an unseen threat. Kurt stands to block her from the White Queen, fangs bearing in his blue face. His yellow orbs begin to glow and Remy feels the back of his neck itch with tension.
"You will not hurt her further."
"Guys!" Rogue shouts, glaring at both of them in turn. Though her body is weak, her mind is sharp; her glare is hot and both men flinch as her hands find her hips. "It's my choice." Her lips curl up in irritation, a sure sign of Logan's influence. "And if the Professor, who Ah know is alive and not dead," her eyes fix on her brother, who she doesn't know is her brother… Remy shakes his head slightly. "Then Ah'm gonna help."
She walks away from both men, pushing her way through them. Unlike others, like Bobby or Kitty, they do not flinch or retreat because she has bare skin around them; they simple are pushed away. Standing in front of Emma, Rogue offers her hand, unclothed, to the woman. Emma just looks at it; though she is gloved, it does not mean she will still shake the young woman's hand. Even Emma has a limit of generosity.
"Ah understand you not wantin' to touch my hand or anything, but consider this an offer. Ah'm in whatever you need to do to bring him back." Emma's face remains cold, but something in her eyes – respect, gratitude – flashes in the depths of her blue orbs and Rogue smiles softly. "But Ah do have one request. Knowing the Professor, he'd only be trying to come back for one huge reason. What might that be?"
"The question of the century," Remy whistles low in the quiet room. He knows something is up from the statue he stole for her; he's not as obvious as some would believe. A friend in the family told him a few interesting details. Including that the statue is rumored to bring back a renewing sources of power; something that can become reincarnated, a source or power so fierce that only one person in history has been showed to possess it. Someone who is already dead.
Emma freezes in her tracks as she looks to the thief; he knows. And she gulps silently.
It's time or never to fully tell them. Apparently Rogue doesn't quite remember the White Queen's true mission, and rightly so; Emma spent most of her days within the Hellfire Club hiding from it. She barely thinks on the mission; no way Rogue would easily access that information, no matter how powerful the girl is.
And truly she is strong; Emma feels a bloom of respect in her chest that she pushes away. She didn't need to be a bleeding heart now, making friends. She'd have to shake their world a bit further.
"Well?" Logan prompts and Emma glares righteously at him.
"I'm destined, from an unknown source to bring back-"the earth shakes, and the X-Men plus their resident thief and diamond intruder fall to the ground in crumpled heaps. Logan is the first one to react as his body is catapulted against the fall wall. Storm shouts out, and Kurt teleports to his side, manually pulling him from his entrapment. But he doesn't budge. And the house continues to shake.
"Oh bloody hell, since when does New York get earthquakes*?" Emma yells out, her hands shifting into her diamond form, gripping the wooden planks. Rogue falls to the ground, limbs tangling as Remy drops to her side, his body protectively covering over her own. No one deems it necessary to comment.
"Magneto!" Logan growls, teeth clenching as his limbs and bones betray him. They are frozen to the wall, and it takes everything in him to mutter out the next words. "He's here!"
Bobby, Piotr, Kitty and Betsy enter the office, holding on to the hinges as the floor beneath them disrupts their balance. Betsy glares out the window as Angel and Beast take off toward an unseen enemy. "There's someone on the front lawn," she shouts, British accent refined and punctuated in the chaos. "Some of us have taken to engage."
"Stand down!" Storm yells, careening back into the wall. Her back slams against it and her eyes glaze over into a deep white, her brown orbs are now hazy. "Kurt, stay with Logan. X-Men, follow me!" She takes to the air, the wind currents lifting her lithe frame; she is unhindered by the shaking world and easily goes towards the front. Without another word, everyone else follows.
Rushing to the main entrance, Storm blows the doors open with a high pact wind, shattering the glass windows on either side. She lifts into the air as Bobby becomes Iceman, Kitty is now Shadowcat and Piotr transforms into his metal self, Colossus. Psylocke, stands with nimble agility below Storm, her palms glowing a vibrant purple the color of her heavy locks, flanked by a panting Beast and a wincing Angel. Only Rogue and Gambit stand in the doorway, holding on for composure.
"Ah, looks like I was interrupting. Should I come back later?" Magneto remarks, standing before them, hands rising into the air as anything with a relation to metal bends to his command.
Storm is positively growling as the sky above them darkens. Grey clouds of various disturbances grow and churn as she points one lone finger on to their enemy; a man that is responsible for both Jean's death, Scott's death and the Professor's now apparent disappearance. Her hair flies as she moves closer. "This is my home. These are my students. And you are not welcome here!"
As she shouts a lightning bolt of brilliant white and blue casts from the sky landing directly in front of Magneto. Mystique, who is couched behind him, jumps back, pulling her leader with her movements.
"I dare say we're not still angry about the battle on Alcatraz are we?" He shouts over the roar of the storm brewing overhead.
At the calculating look of the Weather Witch's face, he cannot help but become somber. "You were not the only ones who lost someone that day. I lost men. Charles was my greatest friend and ally."
"And yet you let him die!" Shadowcat shouts back, face red and angry as an old wound is ripped open by Magneto's confession. Iceman holds her back, another arm cradling her stomach in comfort and support. No one can forget how much the Professor's death affected Kitty; how it hurt them all that he had been kind too. Rogue steels herself, against the onslaught of tears that threaten to fall.
Magneto watches as he does all things; and sees there are differences since the last time they all met. Including how a certain cat is now with her best friend's boyfriend. He lets the thoughts go for now. There will be time later to meddle.
"I did no such thing little one. If you had been there, you would've known that not even I could've stopped Jean from killing her mentor."
"You could've tried," Storm snaps, anger filling her as the ground stops moving. She doesn't dare divulge the news they were just told. Erik looks up at her, face ashen under his hard metallic helmet. He almost looks remorseful but she doesn't dwell on the emotions.
A low growl is heard throughout the mansion as Logan sprints through the office window; he somersaults through the grass, claws out at the ready as Kurt teleports into the fray, the White Queen holding on to his shoulder with one gloved hand.
Her white face to colored green. "I'm think I'm going to vomit," she says with disgust as Logan stalks toward the graying mutant.
"You better have a good reason for stopping by bub," he picks the front of his shirt up, holstering the old man into the air. The younger mutants are intrigued; Magneto would never allow Wolverine near him so quickly. If anyone, Logan should still be trapped to a wall.
Even Storm is curious now and falls to the ground softly.
Rogue approaches Wolverine's side, a brown trench coat now adorning her petite frame; Gambit had said her state of dress wasn't really appropriate for "guests". "Why are you here?" She asks coldly, glaring at both mutants.
Erik sighs as if defeated. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," he croons, letting Mystique pull away from him. Pyro is still like a forgotten vegetable on the soft damp grass; the bitter cold is starting to blow and Rogue hunches further into the jacket.
"Oh my stars and garters, what have you done to him?" Beast asks as he moves closer. Though he only knew the man in passing when he had been a resident at the mansion, Beast feels a comrade with the young man. He touches his hand to his forehead and winces. "He's cold. Too cold for someone with his power."
"Another reason we are here," Magneto replies, easing out of Wolverine's grasp. It's not hard if he uses his gifts to let himself down gently. "My young friend has been held captive by the United States government and is in need of care."
"They used what looks like a replicated Cure to harness his gifts." Mystique explains, warily watching Beast who is hovering around the boy like a frightened mother hen, to the blue man in the back of the group. His reproachful gaze makes her turn away quickly. "Without fire, Pyro has become almost unresponsive."
"It's a part of his mutation," Hank explains easily. "He lives through the fire. Without it, he dies away."
"We will help him," Ororo says from behind Logan. She looks anything but charitable. "But what common enemy do we have, that brought you to my doorstep?"
Gambit smirks as he comes closer. "We were just starting to get into some fun stuff, so make it quick hein?" The staff is resting calmly enough on his shoulders, but those that have seen his talents shudder with the invisible threat.
Erik smiles, wrinkles pulling on his face; he looks like a new person again. But as his eyes waver, they settle on Rogue and then the man at his side; if he wasn't so fiercely hated, they would see the glimmer of sadness before he pushes it away. "Why you're old friend and resident doctor. Ms. Jean Grey."
AN: Dun, dun, duhhh! How's that for an update? Some Romy, though not as much as even I would like. It's coming. Breakthroughs and plot development got in the way; you know how it goes.
"Oh bloody hell, since when does New York get earthquakes*?" – Relating to the fact that just a few months ago NY State did indeed have an earthquake, one of the worst for us (since we just don't get earthquakes). A little ode to reality and to those that said the exact same thing when the earthquake happened.
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Peace