The Secret

Chapter Seven: Rogue and Scott

"Oh, hi. Rogue. Happy Thanksgiving." Scott tried to smile but it wavered off his face.

"Good morning." She grumbled. "Happy Thanksgiving." She fought the urge to yawn until she could fight it no more. "Excuse me." She said.

"No problem." He smiled, and dropped a chrome valve of some sort.

"What's that?" Rogue asked.

"It's ahhh, …"

"You don't know, do you?" Rogue asked, finally feeling in a true good humor for the first time today.

"No." He agreed quickly. "There was ahhh, were, um … a few things happened . . ." He was gesturing backwards toward the kitchen. Rogue leaned around him and cast a glance through the door. Two of the caterers were working up a sweat trying to unthread a long chrome pipe from what is obviously the wrong connection on the side of the steam tank.

Scott tossed the valve back in to the kitchen, on to one of the counter tops.

"Have you signed the book yet?" Scott asked.

"Book?" Rogue looked at him sideways.

He looked amused. "Come on." He said. "I'll show you."

They strolled down the long, quiet hall towards the library. "Right over here." He said.

And there it was. In an alcove, practically alone, was a very old book.

"The Professor started this book back in the early seventies, even before he built the mansion." He explained as he flipped to the beginning of the book. "Right after his mother died, I think."

He found what he was looking for.

"I am Thankful for the strength to walk in to the darkness and return to the light." The page read. And scribbled beneath it were the initials CFX and the date.

"The Professor keeps the book covered with a glass case all year long, then, on Thanksgiving, he opens the case and lets anyone add what they want." Scott smiled. "Isn't that cool?"

She smiled politely. "Yeah." And then rather grimly. "I suppose it's better when you've got more to be Thankful for."

Scott swallowed hesitantly.

"You know," He began. "When the Professors mother died, his Step-Father, the Juggernaught's real father tried to steal the Professors inheritance." He had her full attention. "He had to invoke a contractual clause that was in her will – he had to start his own business and make one hundred and fifty thousand dollars within six months to claim the full inheritance."

"What?" She had never heard anything like that.

"And he did it too." Scott told her. "By playing the stock market – from home - so you know – he did it on his own – without using his powers. He just followed the market and played it smart."

"So?" She asked, unsure of his point.

"So, when he wrote that in the book he was poor. His stepfather had all his inheritance tied up and he was starting with nothing to try to reclaim it."

Rogue cast her eyes back to the black ink, scrawled in the book. She could almost feel the grief, anger, and determination of that day. The loss of a mother was something she could understand.

"Being Thankful for what you have Rogue, has almost nothing to do with getting what you want." He smiled sheepishly. "Take a look through it if you like." He shrugged. "I think they need me in the kitchen." And with that he was gone.

Rogue laid her hand on the book, and she felt suddenly sick with anger and fury. She remembered this feeling. It was Cain Marko – the Juggernaught. This was what his mind felt like.

She closed her eyes and was him suddenly, laughing with his father. "Oh yeah, I got it." She said. "I cleaned out the whole safe." She laughed again. "Xavier's finally getting what he deserves." She heard herself say as she began to fight to regain her senses.

Nothing! . . . The word floated through her mind, followed by a trailing laughter. She felt better as it passed. She swallowed and steeled herself against the sickness of the memory. Why had she recalled it? What did it mean?

Rogue flipped the book towards the middle, where it was far more current. A page from two years ago stood out to her.

"I am Thankful for the chance to do good with my life." The slanted, sharp letters underneath read "Logan." With a slight flourish on the end of the 'n'. The upper corner of the page held a sweat ring, left by his can of beer as he had written his inscription.

"That's a good one." She told herself out loud, running her fingers over the page.

She took a deep breath and shook off the last of the Marko Cobwebs in her mind. She stepped back slowly from the book. Maybe someday. She told it mentally. Maybe Someday.