Chapter 5
"Congratulations," the Witness said into the stunned silence. "I'm impressed."
Bishop's gun snapped up, centering on him. The Witness smiled. "Y' really goin' t' shoot a hologram, pup?"
Bishop glanced down at the weapon in his hands then self-consciously put it away. Remy noticed his discomfort on some level, but most of his mind was still reverberating with surprise. No, not surprise. It was more than that. He had known something like this would happen. But to be standing face to face with...well, himself... was more than he wanted to cope with.
"Shut y' mouth, boy, an' deal wit it." The Witness watched Remy, a faint smile on his lips. But it did not go as far as his eyes, which were very cold. Remy realized in that instant that this man scared him. Not really because of the future he represented, but simply because Remy had met people with eyes like that before. He knew what they were capable of.
Remy didn't say anything, so it was Beast who spoke first. "Uh, hello. I'm assuming you know who I am?" He, too, was obviously at a loss.
The Witness smiled. "'Course, Hank. It's been a long time, neh?"
"For you, I suppose." Hank adjusted his glasses. It was a nervous habit Remy had noticed. He tended to fiddle with his glasses whenever he was uncomfortable in a social situation. "I, on the other hand, can't honestly say that we've met. If you know what I mean."
"I do." The Witness' smile remained in place. He seemed thoroughly amused.
The danger room door slid open and the X-men entered, led by Professor Xavier. There was a collective wariness about them, an uncertainty of how to react to the Witness' presence.
"Hello, Remy," the Professor said as his hoverchair slowed. His face was a pleasant mask.
The Witness met his gaze evenly. "Witness, please. It will save some confusion." Although the words were polite, Remy could sense the underlying tension. This man met the Professor as an equal, not as an X-man. There was a tremendous amount of reserve written into the set of his shoulders and the tightness of his expression. Remy wondered if the professor noticed it, too.
"Very well. Witness it is. I suppose I should be blunt. It is obvious you've gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this-- meeting. I am certain we'd all like to know why."
"All I want to know is who killed the X-Men." Bishop stepped in front of the Witness, his stance belligerent.
"Sorry, pup. Can' tell y' dat one." The Witness turned away, his gaze sweeping the assembled X-men.
"Can't? Or won't?" Bishop was angry now.
The Witness turned back to him. "Won'." His expression dared Bishop to push him.
Storm laid a restraining hand on Bishop's arm. "Why not?" she asked.
The Witness gave her a nod of acknowledgement. It wasn't exactly a friendly gesture, but it was respectful. "Better question, ma chere. But still not good enough."
Storm edged around Bishop and approached the Witness. To everyone's surprise, she reached out and took both of his hands in hers. The danger room had created a solid projection. She stared directly into his eyes, searching. Remy felt a deep twinge. She was looking for a reason to believe, to trust.
"My friend, did you come to help us?" Her quiet words were like nails driven into Remy's heart. Still, he couldn't help but understand. He didn't know why this other version of him was there, either.
The Witness' expression softened and he drew her closer. "'Course, Stormy. I tol' you I'd always be dere for you. But dere are limits... reasons it has t' be dis way." His words were very low. Remy felt a bizarre stab of jealousy for the intimate moment.
Storm smiled. "I believe you."
Bishop's expression was thunderous, but he held his tongue.
"So now all we have to do is figure out the right questions to ask, yes?" Hank asked, breaking the rapport.
The Witness released Storm abruptly and nodded. "Oui. Dat is all." The irony in his voice made Remy think that wasn't going to be an easy task.
#
Bishop ran the cloth over the gun barrel without really being aware of it. He had taken the weapon apart and cleaned it three times in a row now. It was a familiar activity, and one he did not need much attention for. He was sitting on his bed, the cleaning supplies spread out on a towel beside him, but his eyes were focused on the floor. He was trying to understand how he felt. He hadn't slept in nearly two days, not since the Witness' arrival. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a dizzying montage of images-- the X-men dead in various ways, Jean's final message, the Witness, Gambit. And all of it left him feeling so completely lost, so completely helpless, he could barely stand it.
A knock on the door stilled his hand and his thoughts. His finger curled around the trigger, though he didn't raise the weapon.
"Bishop, sugar, y'all right in there?" Rogue peeked around the edge of his door.
"Of course." He began putting the cleaning supplies away. "Did you want something?" he asked without looking at her.
The door creaked as she opened it and stepped inside. He deliberately kept the hinge un-lubricated, though he knew most professionals would think to oil the hinges before trying the door. Rogue crossed the room and stood in front of him. She watched him putting all of the cleaning supplies into their case without comment.
When he had finished, he looked up at her. They were nearly eye-level, despite the fact that he was seated. Rogue did not meet his gaze. She was staring at her gloved hands, which were knitted together as if she needed to hold on to them to keep them still.
"Ah just wanted t' know about the Witness," she began without preamble. "Y'all grew up with him, an' ah thought. . . ." She took a deep breath. "Ah thought ya might be willin' t' tell me about him." She looked directly into his eyes for one brief moment, and Bishop saw the conflicting hope and fear there.
"He's the head of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the country, Rogue." Bishop knew he wasn't being very gentle. But he didn't want to see her get her heart broken-- again.
"Ah know. Ya said that before." But the expression in her eyes hadn't changed.
"Then I'll be more specific." Bishop's words came out clipped, angry. Rogue simply refused to see the truth so often. For her own sake, he wanted to end this fascination before it caused her any more grief. He was not quite willing to admit to himself that he was at least as angry at himself for similar reasons.
"The Witness'-- Gambit's-- syndicate controls almost all of the major criminal activity up and down the east coast, along with some overseas interests. It's drugs, extortion, gambling, high-dollar theft, of course, assassination, prostitution..." Rogue winced and he relented. Her face had completely drained of color.
"Wasn't-- wasn't there anything good?"
Bishop shrugged, and his own nagging doubts converged. "I don't know. He took in strays. Me. Shard. Shackle. We probably would have died out on our own. But I can't say I believe it was out of the goodness of his heart."
Rogue was silent, and Bishop wondered if hurting her like this was really for the best. But it seemed like the wisest thing to do.
After a moment, Rogue wrapped her arms around herself. "So who's Shackle?"
Bishop sighed. "She is-- she was--" He fumbled with the verb tenses. "--just another stray. The Witness took her in about a year after me and Shard." He paused, wondering if he should say anything else. He wasn't certain how the words might come out. Shackle's life with the Witness was something he had never resolved in his own heart, but Rogue deserved the best explanation he could give her.
"She'd been used-- badly. Somebody's entertainment piece. She was only eleven or so, but the Witness said she'd been a toy for a couple of years, at least." Bishop was lost in his own memories now, unaware of Rogue's presence.
"She never got over what happened to her. He said there was something broken inside her, and it never did heal." He paused. "She likes knives."
"The Witness taught her... everything, I guess. To be a thief and assassin. The rest of the business." He turned the gun over in his hands. "She's his protégé, and personal bodyguard. Maybe his lover. I don't know."
He looked up at Rogue. "But she's a cold killer, and he's the one who taught her. He said it was just giving her something useful to do, since there was no way to really help her, but I don't believe that. She's a useful tool to him, and that's all." Bishop stood and Rogue backed away.
She shook her head uncertainly. "No, ah can't believe that."
"It's true." He slammed the lid of the case closed with unnecessary force.
Rogue turned away.
"Just don't be fooled, Rogue!" Bishop called after her as she disappeared into the corridor.
Bishop sighed and glanced at his reflection in the wall mirror that Storm had given him. Let's hope that I will not be fooled, either. Despite all the years he had spent learning to be vigilant, he was very afraid that he had already missed the most vital piece of this puzzle.
#
Charles Xavier was completely exasperated. No matter what he asked or how he phrased the questions, there seemed to be an unlimited number of things the Witness simply would not talk about. And since he was dealing with a hologram that didn't even exist telepathically, he had no clue as to the rationale that drove that refusal. And to make matters worse, the Witness simply sat there and waited, unperturbed by anything Charles could say or do.
Of course, it is a hologram he chided himself. It can't get frustrated. Judging from his own emotional state, it was time to try something new.
"Can you tell me what happened after we were all killed?" he asked.
The Witness nodded. "Certainly".
Hallelujah, Charles thought and was mortified to find the Witness chuckling at the expression that must have been on his face. This wasn't like dealing with Gambit, who was still young enough to miss a great deal. He was discovering that this "man", for lack of a better term, was an intellect of a caliber similar to his own. He had seen the potential in Gambit, of course, but it was well obscured by youth, ego and a dismaying lack of formal education.
"As you c'n prob'ly guess, de other X-teams were stunned by what happened." The Witness' expression was guarded, as if he were broaching a painful subject. Charles was again amazed at how realistic this projection was. Despite the fact that it couldn't really feel anything, it-- he?-- often gave the impression of suppressed emotions.
"De real problems started when folks went lookin' f' revenge. Mystique went ballistic. Y' c'n imagine what kind o' damage she did. Den Cable and his team hit de warpath and all de other teams followed. B'fore anyone knew it, we in de middle of a human-mutant war." The Witness' expression twisted. "An' all in your name, Professor."
Charles felt a chill creep up his spine. To be the rallying point of a war that he had spent his entire life trying to avert...
"How can I stop it?"
"By stayin' alive, o'course."
"Is Bishop the key to changing the future?"
The Witness shook his head. "Non. He done his part."
"Is Gambit?"
The Witness gave him an approving nod. "Oui, Professor. Y' just got t' know how to ask de right questions."
