Author's Note**
Okay, I'm going to be honest. I don't speak French. Or German for that matter. I took Spanish in high school and all I can remember from that is "Donde es tu chicos picanos" or "Donde es la cervesa" which roughly translates to "Where are your little boys?" and "Where is the beer?" The two most useless phrases I could ever have learned. Now, I got my French here from one of those online translation things and I'm sure it's completely wrong, but that's not important. I don't care if it's wrong. What's important is that it looks French which, to me, is all that really matters.
She appeared back in the foyer, where the others were all still gathered. Scott and Lance were still bitching to each other, Angel had moved and was now deep in conversation with Jean, and Gambit had shifted himself into the seat of her chair. His legs hung over the right arm and he absently rifled his cards while he stared off into space. Suddenly curious, because he looked so involved with his own thoughts, she reached out with one of her newly discovered abilities. What she got was a solid wall of blankness. Hmmm, mahbe monsieur Remy doesn't like people rifling through his head, she thought to herself. Then she smiled again, barely able to hold in her laughter. Ah'm gonna enjoy this, Cajun. Absently Remy brushed a piece of his dark hair away from his eyes and the movement allowed her to appreciate the strong line of his jaw. One of her eyebrows lifted. In more ways than one I guess.
"Where y'at, Cajun?" she called out as she started towards him. Smooth as always, when Remy turned his head his smile was already in place. This time he caught the unholy gleam in her green eyes and wondered what special occasion he was in for this time.
"Gambit be jus' fine cherie. Only he wonderin' where ya ben?" he asked as he swung his legs around and planted them on the floor.
As if she had stalked men her entire life, Rogue stopped just in front of the chair with his feet on either side of her. She set one fist comfortably on her hip and sent him a slow grin.
"Oh, here and there. Ya know, Remy," she began, leaning down to place one hand on each arm of the chair, "Ah was thinkin' that since ya done such a good job comin' up with Mesmero's whereabouts, ya deserve some kind of reward."
His eyes dropped down to her lips and lingered long enough to have her blood heating. For a moment she almost forgot she was playacting and butterflies shot up into her stomach. After all, she'd only kissed one boy in her life and Remy, despite his playful attitude, was certainly no Mississippi boy.
"Dat funny, cherie, 'cause Remy, he be thinkin' de same thing." Red irises flashed; she was close enough for him to smell the dark perfume she probably had dabbed on just under her chin. The scent clogged his lungs. Remy shore gonna be mad if he dies before he gets his reward. "Whatchu got in mind, belle?"
She couldn't quite remember what she had had originally in her mind but abruptly she didn't care. It took half of a breath to close the distance between their lips and less than that for her powers of absorption to kick in. All she got was a brief hint of spice before his body gave a jerk and he slipped away from her. His eyes remained opened for another second and a smile kept his lips occupied as he succumbed to the blackness.
"Stripes? What's goin' on here?" a familiar gruff voice kicked her out of her reverie and her head jumped up.
"Logan! Um . . .," she searched for an adequate explanation that wouldn't be followed by claws being extracted from Remy's chest. She stared at the rough figure in the front doorway and said,
"Il le feutre aime prendre un somme." (He felt like taking a nap)
Wolverine raised an eyebrow but figured it wasn't worth pursuing. So instead he moved away from the door and prepared to present his special delivery.
"I brought ya somethin' Stripes."
The first thing that appeared in the door was a cane with a slender hand a top of it. It was quickly followed by the rest of the figure and when Rogue saw who it was the X-men heard a sound come from her that they never would have imagined she was capable of making. She gave a squeal of delight and raced across the room to throw her arms around the short haired woman with dark sunglasses.
"Irene!" was all she managed to say before she buried her face in the woman's sweater.
There was no doubt in anyone's mind just who Rogue's mother was.
*****************************************
"What are ya doin' here Irene?" Rogue asked when she finally let go of the woman who had raised her. Irene tipped her head towards Wolverine and then began tapping her way forward, "looking" for a chair.
"This charming young man came to pay Mystique a visit," she replied, finding the chair that Gambit was sprawled in front of. She tapped him with her cane and then frowned. "You might want to put this young man somewhere more comfortable. James, lift him up onto that couch."
While the others marveled over how she had known there was a couch there, Wolverine grunted and strode forward to pick up the young Cajun. None-too-carefully he tossed the limp form up onto the couch. Gambit groaned lightly and seemed to be coming around.
"I told you. The name's Logan," he muttered darkly. Irene waved his complaint away and sat down. Rogue sat across from her, her eyes narrowed.
"What were ya doin' with Mystique, Irene?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. She had the vague feeling she wasn't going to like what she was about to find out.
"I've been with Mystique since she adopted you. Before then, even."
"But wah?" Confusion set in. Always a bad sign. Reaching out, Irene took one of Rogue's gloved hands in her own.
"Child, fate does not weave a single strand. She weaves a tapestry and you do not question the thread you are tied to, you question the picture you make. Mystique has damaged the lives of many, this is true. But without her, the picture changes and becomes something far more terrible than anything she has ever done."
Okay, this is straight outta that movie, the Prophecy. "But wah did she adopt me?"
"Because I told her to. I had visions of you Rogue, when I was a child." Letting go of her hand, Irene took off her sunglasses and looked at Rogue with eyes a milky white. Eerily, Rogue got the feeling Irene could still see her. "I have seen a great many things in my life, some horrible, some beautiful. But none have brought to me the happiness seeing you did. Now," she stated abruptly, completely pushing away the mushy, heartfelt stuff, "you feel betrayed and alone. You must bury that. Bury it Rogue," she warned, "and leave it. There are other things you must know. That you all must know."
She turned her sightless gaze on the rest of the room. "Bring me everyone."
*********************************************
Once every living soul currently housed within the Institute, X-men and others, (minus two) had been gathered, Irene settled back into her chair and began to divulge the secrets that had been whispered into her ears and played behind her eyes ever since she had been a child.
"A great evil will rise from the forgotten sands of time to claim the world as his own. Four horsemen shall ride at his side and carry out his will. Death shall fly on broken wings and Disease shall spread unseen. Thunder shall hail the coming of War and all those who do not perish shall know hunger, shall know Famine."
"This is like, totally creeping me out," Kitty whispered from her position next to Peter and the quiet young man nodded his head. He believed the words of the woman though; in Russia he had seen the words of the witch women come true.
"One who had served him shall gather to his side the one with many threads, and her role is unknown as is her fate."
"I wonder if she's talkin' about any of these girls," Todd stated quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
"Ich weiß nicht," Kurt muttered under his breath. (I don't know.)
"Twelve shall fight; eight shall fall. The man with many lives shall give freely to one in need."
"Many lives? What the hell is she talking about?" Lance grumbled to his new friend St. John. But for once the freckled face Aussie seemed completely lucid and was watching the woman with serious eyes. Maybe the insane can smell their own.
"The one with many faces shall show them the way."
"Many faces? That sounds like Mystique," Scott commented to Jean and he felt her shrug.
"Or Rogue," was her reply.
"The Prince of Thieves shall sacrifice life for love and gain heaven in return."
"Gambit not like de sound of dat."
"I wouldn't like the sound of it either," Warren responded quietly.
"What about the fat one? She say anything about the fat one?" Fred asked sounding a little panicked.
"Finally, the Unnamed shall bring evil to its knees and cast it back from whence it came, sealing the doors forever. But evil's taint shall remain, for one shall flee unharmed and unmasked."
"Well fuck."
Everyone turned around to stare at Bobby who hadn't realized he had spoken so loudly. He flushed and stared down at his shoes for a moment.
"Sorry."