Counter Terrorist
It was a few weeks before the start of term. Xavier had suggested to Carol that she take the time to 'get acclimated' to what life in the mansion was all about.
He wasn't kidding.
Life at the mansion began at a rousing six AM with a brisk morning PT. Never really ever having any kind of need for physical training Carol was totally wiped out by the time she hit the showers at about eight. PT was one part GI Jane, one part Crouching Tiger, and one part Survivor.
When she made that point that physical training was really a bit of a joke with her powers, Logan just yanked the foul smelling stogie from his mouth and barked, "It's not about yer physical capabilities pipsqueak, it's about discipline. Clearly you ain't got none. 'Nother lap round Danvers."
Some of the older students also had PT at this ungodly hour. There was an oversize Russian 'farmer' who looked like he'd pick up the whole tractor if you asked him to point the way, a German acrobat that swung his prehensile tail with courtly grace, a slight, sprightly slip of a girl who looked like a good strong wind would snap her in half, and a California 'valley' girl with snapping gum and a suitably outrageous accent.
She was informed that they were 'trying out', so to speak, for the real team. They'd been students the year before. They'd passed stringent physical, psychological, and educational testing before they were allowed the option of training with the 'regulars'.
Xavier had been careful to weed through glory hounds, students who thought being an X-Man was glamorous. He also picked students who could excel at teaching and managing a large group of people. They had to be courageous, dedicated, and above all they had to work well as a team.
Not all of those who'd been given the option took it. Many just wanted to live a normal life after high school, or at least as normal as a mutant's life could ever be. The death of Jean Grey was a big factor in several students mind, Xavier had told her, and some just didn't want to risk it.
Not that she blamed them, the life of a commando wasn't exactly fun; up at dawn, out till all hours of the day and night, on call at a moment's notice, never really getting the chance to just lay it all down a go home. But Carol had chosen that for herself, in becoming Ms. Marvel, all this was just making her contribution a group effort.
"Carol?" a voice outside her door asked timidly.
"It's open," she replied, brushing the last drips of water from her chin length butter blond hair.
"Um, hey, uh we're all meeting down in the dining room for breakfast if you wanted to…" Bobby trailed off, as he stuck his head in her room.
"Yeah sure," she set the brush down and joined him, "it's a good thing you came by I'm not exactly sure where the dining room is."
"Figured," he said with a grin, "It a big mansion, we try not to loose too many newbies."
He led her down a series of hallways, she tried to keep track by marking the turns in her head, but he just laughed, "You'll get used to the place pretty quick, I actually find it easier to navigate by the artwork. See here is George the Third, we turn left, we get Admiral Nelson, we turn right we get George Washington. The dining room is in early Lewis and Clark so we head towards Cornwallis." He pointed at a picture of the defeated British general.
"That's crazy.' She muttered.
"Hey works for me" he grinned again, "Here we are"
The dining room had several long rectangular tables and a few smaller circular tables scattered around what looked to have once been a ballroom. She recognised all the team members and quite a few of the lucky people who got to sleep in.
He steered them towards a table with one jeans clad individual who had her chair back on two legs with a coffee cup cradled gently in her lap, feet braced on the table top to keep the chair from tipping.
"Good morning Rogue," she said cheerfully, only to be met with a stare as black as the coffee. Before this, Carol hadn't realized emerald eyes could turn quite so cold.
"S'matter of opinion" she growled, sipping slowly from the steaming mug. Carol caught Bobby shaking his head with a clear she's-not-a-morning-person shake.
BAMF!
She damn near jumped out of her chair when the young German acrobat suddenly teleported into the space beside her. He smiled a toothy smile and gave a courtly bow. For all that the man was blue and slightly furry, he really was a charmer.
"Gutentag" he bowed over her hand and brought it to his mouth for a slightly tickly kiss.
"I'll Guten your tag in a minute fuzzy." Rouge growled again, but Kurt seemed unimpressed.
"Don't vorry about her," he said merrily, settling into a graceful slouch, "De Frauline does not function vithout the first cup."
"I see" then Carol thought a minute, she hadn't seen Rogue at PT this morning. "So where were you while the rest of us were out slogging with the Wolverine?"
It was meant to be a joke, but Bobby winced and Kurt lowered his head, Rogue turned the full force of her take-no-prisoners glare on Carol and ground out, "There was a little…accident last night, I needed some time to deal with if that's alright with you"
"She didn't mean anything by it, Rogue, don't get all pissy with her," Bobby defended Carol to the surly southerner who growled, and tossed back the rest of her coffee.
"Ah'm outta here," she ground out, but Bobby wrapped his hand around her wrist as she tried to leave. She jerked herself out of his grip, face gone pale. "Dammit Bobby, don't touch me!"
She looked shaken, her hands trembled a bit in their bottle green gloves, Bobby…well Bobby for a moment looked angry. "I'm not going to hurt you Rogue."
"Ah know, it's just…"her voice faded away, she wrapped her arms around herself tightly and said tightly, "Look I had a rough night ok?"
"Speaking of which," Kurt opened a pocket of his trousers, "From Herr Professor," and pulled out a revolving one-a-day pill dispenser. "Just in case."
She looked a bit ashamed of her outburst, and took the case with a tight nod, "Thanks"
He bowed slightly and Bobby let her practically flee form the table. Carol wondered what the hell was going on. It must have been plain enough on her face, because Bobby sighed and pushed a mug of coffee in front of her.
"Rogue has got some problems, Carol." He rubbed the back of his neck absently, "Whenever she touches some one she imprints a copy of their memories, their personality if you will, onto her psyche. It messes her up for a while until she gets it worked out in her head. The Professor has some stuff that helps…but it's really just her trying to keep control of it. Last night one of the younger kids, Cannonball, wasn't looking where he was going and charged full into her. She spent most of last night in the Quiet Room in the lab trying to keep a lid on things."
"She's on psychotropic medication?"
"Zoloft, Valium, some other stuff, just for emergencies," Bobby shrugged, "Keeps her from getting out of control, and believe me no one wants that"
"And why does the professor let her out with the team?" Carol was flabbergasted. One of her team members, who she was supposed to rely on, was on medication for not being too tightly wrapped.
"Because she's earned it," Bobby said, sounding dead serious, "Ask her to tell you about that streak in her hair sometime. She risks everything every single time she goes out there. Every time it happens she puts her sanity on the line and by God if she's got your back she won't hesitate. There is not a safer person in the world to put your trust in because if she gives her word she'll move heaven and earth."
"Ja" Kurt agreed, "No questions asked"
"Seems kind risky" Carol ventured, hesitant because of Bobby's outburst.
"Being Rogue is risky," Kurt laughed, showing his sharp, rough fangs, "but she still does it every day. Don't ever underestimate the Rogue."
"I'll keep that in mind." Privately Carol wondered what the hell she'd gotten herself into.
Later that afternoon Scott cornered Carol, "Hey, about you taking over my English classes…"
"Yes," she pushed away from the desk; Carol had been trying to work out the grades from last term. It seemed very haphazard.
"Well it wasn't just my class," Scott went on, "We all had to chip in the time from our other stuff," he went on, "I know the grade book and syllabus and everything are a but messed up, but if you want to know the safest place to ask about that is probably the kids themselves."
"You trust them to be honest about the grades they got?" asked Carol, in her experience, children, even ones who would usually be honest, sometimes stretched the limits when faced with this kind of situation.
"Of course," Scott said, sounding faintly confused, "They all know that lying about something isn't going to get them anywhere. It's one of the Professor's main rules. Whatever you've done, you're only going to dig yourself deeper lying about it."
"I doesn't hurt that he's telepathic either, huh?" she said jokingly.
"The Professor doesn't believe in using his powers to coerce anyone Carol" Scott said severely, "It's unethical."
"Whoa, hey, I was just joking, alright." Carol almost physically backed up, this guy's intensity was scary, he didn't seem to know how to take a bit of humour.
"Here's the file," Scott, thumped down a slight manila envelope, "You should probably get in contact with the rest of us and catch up on last term." He made an almost army-like about face and strode purposefully out the back door.
.