Warning: References to coercion and sexual abuse but no graphic details. We're having a look through another's eyes, a back-story with links to a certain southerner. More hints and clues to follow...
It was the last day of the school year and all the students of the Xavier institute were running a little wild.
Their daily danger room session had been substituted for a pre-dawn round of mutant ball, pizza was promised for dinner and it looked like the sun was settling in for a long visit.
Most of the teachers chose the easier option of playing films and any concept of discipline was thrown out of the window.
At least, that was how it felt to the majority. For Rogue, it was simply another day.
She had been keeping a low profile since the 'ill-advised' time associating with the Acolytes. The talk with her father had been less of a discussion and more of a brief stint of warnings and entreaties.
"I'm not saying you are not allowed friends outside of the Institute..."
"This is a very tense time at the moment..."
"People are worried..."
The upshot being, don't make us worry about you. Well, she could deal with that. What she couldn't deal with, was Scott's prejudice.
"I don't see why you prefer to hang out with them, when there's plenty of people here who would be willing to spend time with you."
She snorted. "You know very well it's not about that."
"Then explain it to me."
"Ah hate feeling cooped up Scott. Ah don't know whether its from being in and out of hospitals or whether it's to do with the missing months, but Ah feel lak Ah'm suffocating. Ah need to go out, Ah need a life outside of being a 'mutant'. Do you ever ask yourself where you'd be if not here? Ah don't mean anything by it but Ah do it constantly."
Scott sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Rogue shrugged. "Because it's not important."
"Maybe it is. Maybe that's why you're not settling here?"
"Ah'm settled fayne. Look, Ah train, Ah keep my grades up, ah talk to people. Most of them."
"You need to start opening up to people, Rogue. They'll never be able to help you otherwise."
"Ah've already got enough help. Ah don't need more Scott, Ah just need people who can talk to me straight. People who aren't afraid of me, or think of me as a threat, thanks to my powers. And if we're talking honestly, Ah'd like mah boyfriend, or whatever he wants to call himself, to want to spend tayme with me, otherwise, what are we together for?"
He had no answer for her, so she walked away.
XxX
For weeks she'd been pouring over maps and meditating in hopes to obtain forgotten memories. Charles continued his sessions but he too was growing frustrated. He was sure that if they were to find the missing piece of her memory, it would unlock the past and enable Rogue to confront the trauma that was holding her back.
Logan was all for taking Rogue to Montana and scouting the area until they found what they were looking for.
"It might work."
"But we're only surmising that Montana is the location because Montana is where she ended up."
"You think she may have been placed there?"
"It's a possibility. No Logan, until we have significant evidence, Rogue will stay here."
XxX
In the days following the impromptu meeting with the female X-Men, John St. Allerdyce had been... introspective.
He hadn't always been insane. He'd once had a family, friends. They were poor but content. The trouble had started when his father had ran into some debt and his boss had decided that his wife could 'work' off the extra. The phone calls were constant, at all hours of the night. His mom had always been a proud woman, who helped her family but she was slowly dying thanks to her husband's boss' particular needs.
John had a sister, who his mother asked him to protect.
"Just keep her away from him Johnny."
The boss had made some comments about liking young blood. The anger inside had been building slowly, the more tired and fragile his mother looked. Now, it was steadily heating further.
The comments continued until one day, the girl went missing from school. Everyone in the town knew of the Boss's predilections and John hitched a ride to the Boss' home.
He saw his sister, tarted up in clothes that must have belonged to the boss' wife, but what was worse, was that the mother was also there, dressed in a similar way. He learned later that the sister had been lured away from school on the premise that her mother was ill and needed help, only to find it a lurid trap.
John's control snapped and the fire consumed him.
He watched as the flames circled around the boss, blocking him from escape, while the girls took the time to leave.
To make the damage authentic, the fire had to spread to the rest of the house, encompassing the full property.
The outback police would later say it was convenient that no-one else was around but the 'victim's' habits were well known.
He liked a nap in the middle of the day. He liked a drink too. He probably drank too much that day, left the gas burner on...
No, that wasn't right.
There was no reason for the fire nor any reason why John St. Allerdyce's hands should be fire-damaged.
The men of the town hustled the boy to the border. His dad couldn't do it, he was talking to the police. The only thing to do for the boy is put him on the first flight out before people started asking questions.
There was solidarity in the men, they had also been in similar scenarios and had joked about frying him alive but never had they thought it could happen.
With little money, John picked up what work he could but it was never enough to meet his own needs.
Eventually he stowed away on a ship heading to America. Conditions were little better here than in the Outback, but at least he could use his powers to keep warm.
It wasn't long before he started gaining attention. People were suspicious of the stranger and his apparent way with fire.
There had been whispers about people with powers or strange-looking people that couldn't possibly be human.
'There was also, unbeknown to most people, a scheme underway to 'clean up' the streets of America.
Homelessness was rife and there were numerous discussions of how to handle the issue. John's arrival had come at a time where homeless and petty crime went hand in hand. He was also suffering from his recent relocation. Feeling bereft of his family and unjustly punished for another man's crimes, it was little wonder that he started catching attention.
XxX
On the day that he was caught, he'd been moved on by the police. Moved on to a new temporary home in the middle of a strange city where the righteous were blind and the troublemakers were known by all the wrong people.
The place he was in was a disused warehouse, whose prior function was long forgotten. It was near the city park and some nights, John took up residence there to avoid 'the crowds'. It was that night, not too late, that a young woman had dared brave the park as a short-cut after classes. Most women wouldn't dare take the route in a group, let alone go alone. Either way, it wasn't long since she was approached by people, wanting change and when she gave a denial, the demands turned sexual.
"Women know what they're getting into when they come down these parts. Don't be shy."
Clearly, she hadn't gotten the message but it was very clear to her now.
He heard the all too familiar entreaties.
"Please, just let me go."
"I swear, I won't tell."
But it was no good. The men who approached her were the scum of the Earth. They never felt remorse and didn't care what age the woman was, as long as they got their way.
He felt the familiar anger and confusion strike and take over. Why were the good always the ones to suffer and the cruel left victorious?
There was a detachment in him as he allowed the flames to make everyone aware how he thought about the would-be attackers and their victim.
The fire was no longer confined by him but had its own entity.
He heard the screaming but it only fuelled him further. By now the park was lit up and he no longer felt the cold.
Even when the flames were vanquished, he felt warmth.
XxX
John was thought unfit to be charged, so he was placed under the care of the state. The facility lacked the proper amount of staff and the ones that were there; were clearly unsuited to caring for vulnerable patients.
It was another way to hit home that John would never be able to clear his name. Even if he did, he'd been branded now and that would follow him to his grave.
What was the point in following rules just so the powerful and greedy could confiscate all he held dear?
What reward did he get for ridding the world of a couple of scumbags? A life sentence?
What was the point in playing games when he did not know the stakes?
What was the point in anything?
XxX
John woke that next morning, in his room at the warehouse. He hadn't thought about this in years. That was the penalty on looking back and remembering. The pathway looked so clear now, his path to ruination. But what started this spat of reflection was the vague memory of a pair of eyes, mismatched in colour, along with hair a rugged colour, made unique by a splash of white along the top of her juvenile head.
It had taken the full time they spent at the restaurant to realise why the girl was so familiar. Back then, she'd been a little chubbier and much younger than she ought to be. Now though, she really was a stunner and it was too bad she was on the opposite team.
He stumbled into the kitchen, where the Cajun was making coffee. He was a solitary soul and his accent was oddly comforting. The fusion of Creole and American brought back tender memories of his time in New Orleans. It was a rare time that he'd been genuinely happy, however brief.
Remy caught the edge of John's sentimental wool-gathering and decided not to say anything. His teammate was at peace with himself and that was a rare thing, for people like them. Besides, John's lack of conversation gave him the space to think of his own recollections about the young girl with the red and white hair and mismatched eyes...