Chapter 21:

Hiding in Plain Sight

Her eyelids felt like they were weighed down by cement blocks; her head throbbed.

Rogue groaned to herself, what the hell is going on? The last thing she'd remembered was an unexpected fist to her face. It was a hell of a lot stronger than any punch she'd ever expected from the petite shadow manipulator. It was likely that her silhouette delivered the knock-out blow.

There was a crushing pain behind her nose, was it broken?

Fuck, her thoughts squealed, realizing there was duct tape pressed across her lips. Where am Ah? The blur in her vision had finally began to fade away. Her green orbs scanned the surroundings. It seemed like a normal place, nothing unusual. What was going on?

She wriggled her hands; they were bound behind her back. With what, she wasn't sure. The Southerner's feet were wrapped in what looked like more duct tape. Dallas had knocked her out and stashed her someplace. Soreness arose again in her face – her increased awareness was not forgiving of this.

Ah must be in her bedroom, the goth recognized the features of the space; molding that was distinct to the mansion's quarters. The violet colored drapes and bed linens were obvious clues in their own right. Rogue directly recalled the thumb drive plummeting to the floor during her confrontation with DeShaduw, in the corridor. She must have taken it!

Alright Rogue, she assured herself, growing nervous, uncertain, you need to just be calm and think to get out of here. She tried to scoot forward, hopeful that maybe she would reach the door and gain another recruit's attention. Dallas wasn't this thoughtless; the x-woman felt the tug of whatever kept her bound hands secured to something behind her.

Would she really be dumb enough to keep me in her room? But then she reconsidered the notion. Perhaps it was clever? Had Wolverine gone looking for her, her scent would be all over the mansion regardless. And Professor Xavier wouldn't locate her without the use of her powers. Malevolent little, no good, rotten! She wriggled her hands more. Nothing.

Her lips fidgeted behind the tape. Maybe Ah can gather up enough moisture from my breath to get this off, she wondered, she was hardly able to part her mouth, but tried regardless. The Southerner began to huff – each lungful of air chiseling away just barely at the adhesiveness of the duct tape.

"God!" Her heart jumped to her throat; the sight of DeShaduw throwing open the door almost enough to give her a heart attack. "How can I find somebody so predictable," slamming the door shut with her boot, the Dutch girl slipped her uniform gloves off - tossing them to the table beside her bed, "still so," she paused, her eyes now darting over to Rogue, "interesting?"

The shadow manipulator huffed a sigh; the goth still softly wheezed behind the tape – hopeful it would give soon.

"Gambit," the girl stared intently at the floor, "he gave this to the professor," she pulled the thumb drive from her back pocket. "Well," she chuckled, her purple orbs glittering from the sunlight that crept in behind the shades, "not this… he gave him something else I threw together. But still," she sighed again, "I don't really get it." Her hand made a fist around the tiny device. Rogue listened to the crack and pop as it broke into pieces. The Dutch girl sprinkled the pieces of thumb drive to the floor.

Rogue's brow bunched.

"Why would he give such a rat's ass about you?" And that was something Dallas Shadii just couldn't quite grasp. Not only was Rogue untouchable, but she also didn't want anything to do with Remy LeBeau – well – that is, unless she needed something. The new recruit snorted, "it's nothing personal Rogue. I'm sure you think I'm evil—"

You think? The Southerner narrowed her eyes.

"—I'm really a good person—"

Because good people always tie up innocent bystanders and try to frame them for killing somebody… the younger girl wished she could spit some sarcasm in Dallas' direction.

"—I don't think you really understand what you saw in my memories." She wondered if that made any sense. "My shadow, it sometimes," she chewed her lip, looking for a way to articulate herself, "has a mind of its own?" It was strange, the unexpected softness that crept into her eyes; she flipped a violet lock over her shoulder. "You have to know what it's like to feel cast out?"

The Southerner retraced her memories; this she did know. She could empathize with the feeling of being ostracized. She thought back to when she'd put Cody into a coma. The look that young Remy LeBeau had given her; the way it had felt to be whisked out of her town and forced into the Brotherhood.

"I am not a criminal, where I'm from. I'm like you," she surprised the goth. "I didn't hurt my family on purpose." Rogue must have looked as surprised as she felt, "don't give me that scowl," Dallas grumbled, "I know you and Gambit must have looked into my file." She stared right into the Southerner's eyes, "Just like you can't control what your skin does," she glanced at the wall, her silhouette waving back to them, "I'm not always in command of my shadow…"

The X-woman pondered this. From what she recalled, Dallas did seem pretty distressed about her shadow smothering Bud Thomas. But still, that doesn't make it alright to try and trap her as the murderer.

Why is she even telling me this?

"I can't go back to my country," she laughed nervously, "I can't." Rogue continued to breathe heavily behind her gag – wondering if it was fruitless. Always, beginning to worry for her own life. As the conversation seemed to become more emotional, the girl's shadow paced back and forth nervously. It was almost as though it were contemplating something critical. "Collateral damage," she gripped the Southerner's neck – catching her off guard. But DeShaduw only tipped the X-woman's head upward, forcing her to gaze further into her stare. "That's what this is, you know."

Ah don't like the sound of that, despite her worry, the younger girl narrowed her eyes.

Gambit rounded the corner in a rush, unexpectedly colliding with a grumbling Wolverine. The unmistakable sound of his claw was all the Cajun could hear; Logan had him up by the collar and pressed harshly into the nearest wall.

"I think you have some explaining to do," he snarled.

Remy raised his hands as though he were reminding the grisly man he was unarmed, "Wolverine," he was still shocked, "what's de problem?"

"Don't play dumb," his grip intensified, "I've been looking for you and Rogue all night."

"We've been right here—"

"Oh no," he said pointedly, "you two were out. Doing what, I don't know. But I do know," his tone lowered; lip quivering with impatience, "it was something to do with the Bayville High murder. If you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to turn you into gumbo, Gumbo."

"Listen chef," Remy's voice was now laced with impatience of his own, "I don't know where you get the entitlement to be all high and mighty," he brought his hand to grip Wolverine's wrist, "but if you don't put me down, we're going to have some real problems."

Another throaty snarl and Gambit was dropped to his feet. Logan retracted his claws, thrusting a solid finger into the younger x-man's chest, "what the fuck were you two doing last night? Dallas told me about Rogue trying to get rid of evidence—"

"Whoa," Remy shook his head, "evidence?" He bunched his brow, "If anything," he started again, "it's evidence against Dallas."

"I don't care about the details right now," Wolverine lied; he wouldn't admit it to Gambit just yet, but Dallas' random suggestion about the murder had him wondering a number of things, "What I do care about, is the two of you going behind my back. I asked her if something was going on, several times, and she lied to me about it!"

"And you're taking this up with me, homme?" The Cajun crossed his arms irritated, "because, the way I see it, I didn't do the lying."

"You facilitated."

"I assisted."

"You're in trouble."

"I don't think so Wolverine," Gambit made a 'pft' noise, "for helping Rogue get some answers? That seems to be more of her business."

"If Rogue had something to do with this murder," Logan lowered his voice, "then she needs to come to me or the Professor for help. Not you—"

"Well," Remy sniggered, "she didn't. And I'm not sayin' I agree wit that. Why don't you take this up with her?" He crossed his arms again, locks of his shaggy brown hair falling over his demon eyes.

"I can't find her," Wolverine grumbled, "I thought she would be with you, or you'd at least know where she is." The thief wondered suddenly if he should bring up the confrontation with Dallas or not. She did forfeit the thumb drive … but Rogue hasn't turned up. Wolverine would have undoubtedly found her had she been in town. His suspicions of foul play were mounting.

"She was meant t' be in her room," it was the only thing he could think to say in the moment.

"Well," Logan sneered, "she's not. And I'm starting to wonder if she's in more trouble than you're letting on."

Me too, the Cajun pondered.

"I gave the Professor the information that Rogue and I came across last night," the thief's tone eased, "you should talk to him. I'm going t' keep looking for her."

Wolverine contemplated for a quiet few moments before turning away, "Rogue better be with you when I get back here."

I hope so, he thought, watching the x-man stride down the hall. Where the fuck could she be? He had seen the shadow manipulator not too long after he'd woken up, and again after he'd left the professor's office. How would she ever have time to do anything with the goth? Maybe she did just take the thumb drive while Rogue slept. Or! Maybe she's hiding Rogue in plain sight, just like she was doing herself.

He rushed in the direction of DeShaduw's room, trying to act as casual as possible passing by any other students. When he arrived at the entrance he paused reaching for the doorknob. Dallas is in there, the Cajun pressed an ear to the door, catching wind of the woman talking to herself.

"I'm like you. I didn't hurt my family on purpose... Don't give me that scowl. I know you and Gambit must have looked into my file. Just like you can't control what your skin does, I'm not always in command of my shadow… I can't go back to my country," she laughed nervously, "I can't. Collateral damage, that's what this is, you know."

He wasn't about to wait and find out what the hell was exactly going on in there. Remy rammed his shoulder into the door; it whipped open with a violent bang.

"Let go of her Dallas," he snapped, watching the girl release Rogue's throat.

"Remy," she was stunned.

"You couldn't think of a better hiding place than your own room?" He shook his head, caught off guard by the sudden clout to the jaw her shadow had given him. The Cajun regained his footing, glancing to the wall in time to see another approaching blow. He blocked it, feeling as though he were facing off with an invisible foe. "Quit this nonsense girl!" He barked.

Her eyes flashed violet, "stop," she commanded, her dark twin obediently reforming to her on the wall.

"You think this is really going to help your case?" He quizzed, wiping some of the blood from his mouth.

"Do I have one?" She posed; any trace of sweetness lost from her voice. He felt as though he'd suddenly been standing in front of a robot. It was an entirely separate version of the Dallas he'd thought he'd come to know.

"We can talk about this," he started, "but first," he nodded in Rogue's direction, "we do it properly. The right way. You let her go."

"You, let her go," she crossed her arms. It seemed childish; he watched her step to the side – venom in her glare. Gambit stood there for a long minute, wondering what tricks the new recruit might have. Had it not been a weekday, he was sure somebody would have heard the ruckus or at least walked by. This was insane!

He approached Rogue cautiously, watchful of Dallas as he slipped by. She felt dangerously close. He knelt beside his Southerner, relief in her green orbs.

Rogue nodded to the right, and he looked. On the floor, he saw the tiny pieces of what looked like a disc drive.

"Merde," he whispered, wanting to face palm himself for not suspecting it would be too easy for her to give him a fake drive… or even alter the original. Where is your head, Gambit! He grumbled to himself, peeling the tape from the goth's mouth. He reached behind her, she breathed relief against his neck as his hands made contact with her bindings.

It was then he heard the door shut behind them.

A/N: Thank you again for all the reviews and feedback. All perspectives are very much appreciated. :]