Landover, Maryland. Mark Ferguson Wake
Anna wiggled through the crowd toward the refreshment table. Bottle of water would be good. Jack Daniels, better.
Everyone crammed into the Ferguson's living room like pencils in a jar. Was hot enough in her black dress and tights. The clammy body heat from a hundred mourners covered Anna in an oily film.
Felt like being back in the South. The deep, deep South. In the dog days of August.
Anna bobbed and weaved through a field of shoulders and elbows until she reached the refreshments. Mourners whispered amongst themselves, talking into their glasses and chests. Yet the room was still so very loud. An echo chamber of blame, with a little grief tossed in.
Anna twirled a lock of her auburn hair. Its white streak stuck out among the sea of black hair like a star in the night sky.
What was she doing here?
She didn't know any of these people. She wasn't even on that damn mission.
Anna grabbed a bottle of water and removed the cap.
Betsy, Hank, Bobby, Warren… especially Warren… they promised Ms. Ferguson they would be here. Warren took it the hardest. If anyone was going to be here, it would be him. But with this whole Exodus end of the world thing, everyone canceled at the last minute. Well. Almost everyone.
Glass of Pink Moscato, dear, Emma telepathically said from across the room.
Anna made eye contact with Emma and nodded.
Weird to see Emma in all black. And weirder not to see Emma's cleavage. It usually hung out more than kids afterschool. But there she was, White Queen Emma Frost, in a subdued black suit pants and blazer ensemble.
Sometimes Anna just wanted to smack Emma upside her head. Especially when she demanded a glass of wine. They're at a funeral, and Emma's acting like Anna's her butler. Like she expects everyone to wait on her, hand and knee.
Like everyone owes her.
Anna grimaced.
She reached for an empty glass.
No matter how much time passed, whenever Anna thought ill of anyone, including Emma, Logan's gnarled face would pop in her head.
That face look Logan had the first day she wandered onto the Xavier estate, desperate, pleading for their help. That image was burned in her mind.
She was so young then. Barely knew her ass from her elbow. She knew the X-Men would be suspicious of her intentions. Hostile even.
And largely, they proved her right. Storm and the Professor welcomed Anna into their home, their family, at arm's length. But they welcomed her, nonetheless.
Wolverine?
No sir.
It was his eyes. Eyes she would never forget. Scared her to death when she was on that tiny island of a chair. Wolverine seemed ten feet tall, and she shrunk about ten inches.
The pain in his face was a language all its own. It said 'who the hell are you, kid? Who the hell are you to think, after all you've done, that you're owed our help? That you're owed anything?'
What Anna did to poor Ms. Marvel, Anna could never forgive herself for that.
But somehow, the X-Men did.
And if Wolverine could forgive her for what she did to his friend, then Anna could be patient with anyone. Even Emma.
Anna poured the Pink Moscato. An elderly woman bumped Anna's elbow just as she began. Wine splashed onto the table.
The elderly woman didn't stop or even acknowledge Anna. She barely reached Anna's shoulder. Barely.
"'Scuse me, Ah'm sorry, sugah. Let me get that." Anna turned.
She smiled at the elderly woman and checked her clothes for any stains. She had to be in her seventies. Maybe eighties. She was wrinkled like an old prune, but had a shifty, hawkish stare. Like she'd seen everything twice, and didn't like any of it the first time.
The woman wore a black Sunday dress and veil with a reptilian tail dragging behind her. She glared at Anna. Her eyes ran up and down Anna like an escalator.
"I don't know you," the woman scoffed.
Anna's genuine smile scrunched into a nervous one.
"… Uh, Ms. Ferguson invited us," Anna said.
"Who's we?" the woman snapped.
Her voice was like a buzz saw.
"… Me an' mah friend ovah there… " Ana pointed at Emma, "… Can ah pour you somethin'?"
The woman snorted.
"My daughter don't have any human friends," she said.
Anna let out an uncomfortable laugh.
"We're not human… ah mean, she and I, we're both mutants," Anna stammered.
"You don't look mutant," Grandma Ferguson said.
"Sorry, what's a mutant look like?" Anna said.
"Mom!" Ms. Ferguson said.
She grabbed Grandma Ferguson by the shoulders. Ms. Ferguson was a much taller woman, but had the same tail as her mother. Mascara and eyeliner were freshly applied. No smudges. No streaks.
Poor thing. She hadn't cried yet.
Anna knew the feeling, or lack of feeling, too well.
Antarctica.
When she turned her back on Remy…
Hours went by. Days. Weeks. She hardly shed a tear. Between the hurt and hate, there wasn't much room for tears.
But it was more than that.
The second she cried. Really cried and let it all out, then it became real. Long as she didn't cry, Remy wasn't truly gone. He was just… not there. He'd not been there countless times. He'd hop on his bike and go off on some wild adventure and return days later.
But if she cried, if she allowed herself to cry then it meant he was gone and never coming back.
"Why don't you go talk to Uncle Ron, Mom?" Ms. Ferguson said.
"He's dead," Grandma Ferguson said.
"No, Mom. He's right over there. See?" Ms. Ferguson pointed.
"I ain't blind. When he sees me, he's dead." Grandma Ferguson plowed through the crowd.
Ms. Ferguson touched Anna's arm.
"Oh my goodness, let me apologize for my mother. She's ready to fight the whole world," Ms. Ferguson said.
"Mah, money'd be on her," Anna said.
"… Thanks for understanding." Ms. Ferguson smiled.
Don't worry y'self, sugah. Ah can't even begin to imagine what ya'll must be goin' through… Ah am so very, very sorry for your loss," Ana said.
Ms. Ferguson sighed.
"… It's ok. Thank you. I hope I don't get this wrong, but you are Ro-…" Ms. Ferguson said.
"Anna. Mah name's Anna." Anna said.
"Amy." Ms. Ferguson shook her hand, "I love your accent. Carolinas?"
"Mississippi," Anna said.
"Really? My family's from South Carolina. We moved here when I was about twelve. I guess I lost my accent," Ms. Ferguson said.
"You're lucky. Ah've been in New York for God knows how long, and ah still can't seem to shake this dern accent o' mine," Anna said.
Ms. Ferguson laughed.
"Hahaha, God, I needed that. Thank you so much for coming. I know with the weather and all… it means a lot to me," Ms. Ferguson said.
"It's been rainin' cats and dogs and God knows what else out there," Anna said.
"Past few days have been like the end of the world. Feels that way, at least…" Ms. Ferguson sighed.
There was an awkward pause. Anna stared at her glass.
"… Ah'm sorry we didn't do more for your son," Anna said.
"Please, don't beat yourself up over it, Anna. You weren't even there," Ms. Ferguson said.
"Ah know. And ah'm sorry," Anna said.
Ms. Ferguson poured herself a glass of wine.
"You know, they say there's no pain on Earth like losing a child. But, please don't hate me for saying this, I… I feel like I lost him long before this. I lost him to, I don't know, to this, this culture. You know what I mean?
All his life, I told him, pick your hill to die on. Pick your hill to die on. Everything doesn't always have to be the end of the world. Everything isn't a personal attack.
Somewhere along the lines everyone started thinking that standing up for yourself meant getting offended by every single thing. Life is full of little disappointments and frustrations. Every day. Every damn day. But we pick ourselves up, smile, and do the best we can. That's how my Dad raised me.
But Mark… my baby… he never had an identity outside of, I'm a mutant! If a girl didn't like him, she was a bigot. If he didn't get a job, they were bigots…
It's not his fault though. I failed him, you know? I failed him."
She wiped a tear from her eye.
"It's ok, it's ok," Anna put her arm around her.
Ms. Ferguson sniffled.
"It's not… I failed my baby boy," she said.
"Ah mean this is ok." Anna gently held Ms. Ferguson's hand away from her eye.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"Let it out." Anna hugged Ms. Ferguson.
An old quote always stuck with Anna. 'Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.'
Sometimes it made her smile.
Sometimes, cry.
She was so sick and tired of being sick and tired. All the lonely nights spent searching. Lost in tears. Years floated by down that stream.
Maybe it was good to be Rogue. A blessing. She didn't have any children and, chances were, she never would.
That also meant that she would never have to lose a child. God, that had to be a fate worse than death. It was a pain that Anna couldn't possibly imagine.
The hurt and denial in Ms. Ferguson's bloodshot eyes… Maybe Anna truly was blessed. To never know, to never completely know that level of hurt…
Maybe she was blessed.
Maybe she was just fooling herself. Maybe just one day, one second holding a baby, her baby in her arms, its soft skin against hers, was worth a lifetime of pain. And more.
The front door creaked open. A tense silence filled the Ferguson house. It was like someone hit the mute button.
Leon Dicolla entered. Owner of the Italian restaurant where Mark was gunned down by the police. He looked every bit as sweaty and pasty as he did on the news.
The mourners' eyes were torches. Their teeth, pitchforks.
Ms. Ferguson broke her hug from Anna.
"What in tarnations is he doin' here?" Anna said.
"… I invited him," Ms. Ferguson said.
"Ah'm sure ya'll have your reasons, but ah gotta say none of them seem clear ta me right now," Anna said.
"I've known Leon over twenty years," Ms. Ferguson said.
"Ain' that somethin'," Anna said.
"He used to live down the street. He would come by and check up on me when I was pregnant. Make sure I was ok," Ms. Ferguson said.
"Ah… ah had no idea," Anna said.
"I know he's a good man," Ms. Ferguson said.
"But tha police themselves said he refused to let Mark in…" Anna said.
"He is a good man." Tears welled in Ms. Ferguson's eyes.
"It's ok, sugah," Anna rubbed her back.
"I can't." Ms. Ferguson pulled away.
She dried her tears before they could leak and smiled at Anna. It was a chapped-lip, heartbreaking little whimper of a smile.
"… I… I'm not ready yet," Ms. Ferguson said.
She composed herself, straightened the creases in her dress and applied some lipstick.
Anna softly smiled into an exhale.
"Ah understand," Anna said.
Ms. Ferguson slipped through the deathly still crowd of family, friends, and attorneys toward Leon and embraced him like an old friend.
The mumbles of the mourners were like muddy boots trampling Anna's ear.
"The nerve…"
"Supposed to be a holy occasion…"
"Let anyone in here…"
"Should be in jail…"
"Should be shot. I don't care who hears me…"
"That's the problem. The mother's always the problem…"
"Look at them…"
"Sinners…"
"Should be ashamed…"
Mr. Dicolla's eyes had more bags than a checkout aisle. Guy looked like he hadn't slept for days. All the time they were galivanting around Manhattan fighting the Morlocks, Mr. Dicolla was probably tossing and turning in his bed, dancing to the orchestra of protestors calling for his head.
Or maybe he was just a smart businessman paying respect to save his business. Everybody seemed to hate mutants, but nobody wanted to be labeled a mutant hater. Especially not a family restaurant.
Guess no one liked labels.
Anna poured two glasses.
The X-men had prevented the world from coming to an end so many times… but…
Anna knifed through the mourners toward Emma by the rear window.
… What happened when one person's world came to an end?
Anna's reflection in each glass swayed back and forth with every step. Distorted. Changing.
What did the X-men do then? What good were the X-Men when one person's world came to an end? Ms. Ferguson seemed like such a sweet lady.
How does someone pick up the pieces after something like that?
Anna spent, no, wasted so much time wondering what holding hands would feel like again. How her powers had kept from so much of life. Never dawned on her how much her powers had shielded her from.
And it only made it that more depressing.
Anna sighed.
She handed a glass to Emma.
"Stem, dear." Emma glanced at Anna.
"Huh?" Anna took a gulp of her wine.
"Emma rolled her eyes.
"The stem, dear. The proper way is to hold a glass by the stem before you hand it to someone. Or, in your case, inhale it," Emma said.
"Thanks, ah'll remember that." Rogue palmed the bottom of the glass and chugged.
"Charming," Emma said.
She took a swig and pursed her lips like she sucked a lemon.
"Ugh!" Emma shuddered.
"What's wrong now?" Anna said.
"It's ghastly. Please tell me you don't think this swill is acceptable," Emma said.
"Of all tha things runnin' in mah head, sugah, that ain't one of 'em," Anna said.
She gazed into her glass.
"Penny for your thoughts, dear," Emma said.
Anna snapped back to attention. Jarring to hear Emma ask something, what was the word, empathetic.
"Heh…" Anna chuckled, "… Ya'lls the telepath. You tell me."
"Fair enough," Emma turned back to the window and gazed outside.
Anna scratched the back of her head and frowned.
"Look… Emma, can ah ask somethin'? No sarcasm?" Anna said.
Emma kept her back to Rogue.
"If you must," Emma said.
Anna took a step closer.
"Why're you here?" Anna said.
Emma peeked at Rogue over her shoulder.
"Ah mean, c'mon, let's face it. Ya'll aren't the most people lovin' X-Man. Ah'm sure you'd be the first ta admit that," Ana said.
"And your point, dear?" Emma said.
"We both know this might be our last day on Earth. Tomorrow… who knows what'll happen with Exodus. All the others, Warren even, decided they had other things to do on their last day," Anna said.
"So why didn't I cancel?" Emma said.
"Well… yeah. Ah guess that's what ah'm askin'," Anna said.
"What makes you certain this is our last day on Earth? The X-Men have gone against impossible odds before and come out perfectly fine. What makes you think this will be any different?" Emma said.
"Ah don't know. Ah wish ah did. Really. Ah think ah'd feel better about this whole dern mess if, ah don't know, if Exodus was doin' all this because, ah know this sounds crazy, but if he was doin' it because he hates us. Or he hated mutants. Or humans. Or somebody. Whatevah. When ah think of all the times we've survived against all odds, ah know it was because we believed we had ta win. The X-men had to stop Dark Phoenix. We had to stop the Maurauders, an' Sinister, an' Apocalypse, and Magneto an' Mastermold, an everyone else. We had to," Anna said.
She twirled her glass by the stem.
"An ah feel like Exodus feels that same way. Ah don't think he'll stop because he doesn't just want ta win. He feels like he has ta win. Ah hope that makes sense," Anna said.
"It does. In your own, precious, roundabout Southern way," Emma said.
She faced Rogue and looked away slightly.
"… I heard you tell Ms. Ferguson your name was Anna, Rogue," Emma said.
"Ya'll heard us from way over here?" Anna said.
"Telepathy, dear. I hear everything," Emma said.
"Now there's a comfortin' thought," Anna said.
"… I was just wondering, when did you start introducing yourself as Anna?" Emma said.
"Ta be honest, ah think ah just started right then and there. Genuinely, at least. Sometimes ah say it as an alias," Anna said.
Emma took a deep breath.
"… You ever get… tired of being who you are?" Emma said.
"What do ya mean?" Anna said.
"… There's a wise quote I always liked," Emma said.
"Ah love inspirational quotes," Anna said.
Emma smiled.
"You would. Anyway, it goes something like this. I do a lot of things I wouldn't do," Emma said.
Anna blinked.
"Er… one more time, sugah," Anna said.
Emma folded her arms.
"I do a lot of things I wouldn't do," Emma said.
"A wise man said that? Sounds like somethin' Logan would say ta get outta doin' tha dishes," Anna said.
Emma's face boiled.
"Fine. It'll make more sense if you hear the whole thing," Emma said.
She inhaled.
"I do a lot of things Walt Disney wouldn't do. For example, Walt Disney doesn't smoke. But I do," Emma blurted out in one breath.
Anna almost did a spit take.
"… Walt Disney said that? Mickey Mouse Walt Disney?" Anna said.
"Quite profound isn't it?" Emma said.
"Emma Frost just quoted Walt Disney? Heh. If'n there was any doubt tha world was comin' ta an end tomorrow, this confirms it," Anna said, holding back laughter.
"Walt Disney was an industrial pioneer and entrepreneurial visionary. When I was much younger, I would take notes on business success from men like him, J. D. Rockefeller, Henry Ford. And if you repeat any of this to anyone you will spend the rest of your days a drooling mental vegetable," Emma said.
"Not a problem, sugah. Wouldn't want anyone thinkin' yer human or anythin'," Anna said.
"Thank you," Emma said.
"… Ah think ah see what you mean, more ah think about it. Ah do things Walt Disney wouldn't do…" Anna said.
"Are you Rogue? Or are you Anna?" Emma said.
"Some days ah feel like neithah," Anna said.
"We're not all that different, you and I… save for the obvious gulf in style, breeding, and annunciation. Bloody Jean loves Scott and it's the most sacred union in the history of mutant kind for generations to come. Storm and Black Panther get married, and it's the most extravagant celebration in a thousand years," Emma said.
She bit her lip.
"You and I fall in love? Oh, we don't know what we're doing. We're looking for trouble. We're either naïve or conniving.
I've never thought much of Gambit. But you don't choose who you fall in love with. Your feelings are your own, Anna. But when it's over, the only sympathy you get is an earful of whispers. I told you so's. Of, ok, it's time to move on and forget it ever happened…" Emma said.
Her eyes fluttered.
"…You ever see the way Scott looks at me? Like I don't exist. Like I never did. Anna… I loved that man. I did. I loved him every bit Jean does. And more so than Storm ever loved Black Panther for that cup of coffee they called a marriage. It's not fair…" Emma said.
"Emma, ah… ah didn't know you felt that way," Anna said.
"You want to know why I'm here? When everyone else was too afraid to show their faces here and admit that we messed up? That we didn't save that child? Because I've been here before.
My heart goes out to Ms. Ferguson more than you can imagine. When my Hellions died… it just hurts so much to even think of a child in pain," Emma said.
"S'funny, this whole time ah've been mopin', goin' back and forth whether ah was lucky or cursed not to know how Ms. Ferguson must feel," Anna said.
"It's a curse if you truly don't know. Because no matter how much it hurts, if this is my last day then there is no place else I'd rather be than here," Emma said.
She looked in Rogue's eyes.
"But it's not a curse for you. Because you know exactly how she feels. The Hellions weren't mine. But they were mine. They didn't have to be my children for me to love them. I would never admit it, and I know she wouldn't want to hear it, but if anything happened to Jubilee… I requested she be put on the Blue Team. She needs discipline only Bishop can give her, but I also want to be there to look out for her. You don't spend so much time with someone like we did after the Phalanx invasion without the little buggers growing on you," Emma said.
She sipped her wine.
"That's life ah guess. Formin' bonds without even realizin'," Anna said.
"That is life," Emma said.
Anna raised her glass. Emma gently clinked their glasses together.
"Ah reckon as far as wakes go, ah feel pretty good about this one." Anna smiled.
"We've certainly been to enough of these to be experts," Emma said.
Anna chuckled.
"Ah like ta think things maybe happen fer a reason. Ah'd be lyin' if'n ah said ah had as noble a reason for comin' as you," Anna said.
She shrugged.
"Ah honestly only came 'cause ah wanted an excuse ta avoid Remy today. Part of me always said if there was one person ah'd wanna see before ah died, it'd be that ol' swamp rat," Anna said.
She put her glass down.
"But ah know he ain't nevah gonna change. Ah love him. Yer right about that. Ah love him more'n he loves himself. Which is the problem. If'n he can't love and respect himself, he ain't nevah gonna love an' respect anyone else. An' ah know that's nevah gonna change. And neither is Rogue. But hey, Anna…" Rogue smiled.
"She still has a shot," Emma said.