Hello Loving Reviewers!
I'm sorry if this A/N seems rushed.it is. Teehee. Boy, I really need ideas for this story, so go ahead and SUBMIT folks!
Goddess of Lurv (who shall form now on be known as Numeral Uno, because of how she was my first reviewer and always manages to review my stories before most anyone else): My dear friend, how SWEET of you to review! Very good to hear from you! *cackles* Yes. Mystique IS evil. MWAHAHAHA! Bad girl. *slaps Mystique* *winces* Whoops. I worte her that way.hmm. Don't worry, she does have a heart.for herself. Teehee. NO, seriously, she does, as you'll see in this chapter (sorta). Oh, don't wory. I DO live in front of my computer. Lol.
Vamp: Hello, Vamp. I like your username. Does it stand for vampire? I'm glad you like Mystique evil! I do too. As you can see, haha. Got any ideas for the next chapter?
L: WAHOO! I LOVE IT! Username sweet and simple! Lol. My dear,m dear friend, you're questions are mine to answer! The X-Men, she will meet. She WILL discover how unfair her life is. Ther may be a small smidgen of romance ;-) with a surprise stranger ;-). Keep up the reviews, eh? Nad thenx for the ideas!
EternalEvanescent: Ello ello! Ha! MYSTIQUE IS CRUEL! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes I did portray her as cruel, huh? *ponders chapter* Perhaps I went a cit far.Nah. It's all a large part of Rogue's future! HA! Tis all a part! MWAHAHAHA! Ok. Sorry. Bit hyper. Wow. I made you feel my story? For real? COOL! Thanks! I'm so flattered! Awww *pats Pixie's shoulder* *Mystique turns around and whallops Pyro and the head. Twilight immeidtaly screams at her and slaps her. An all-out fight ensues*
Now then, all my lovely friends. Here is the moment you've all waited for:
Chapter 2
Rogue had never thought of her mother as 'bad'.
She'd never considered her to be a villain or murderer.
Of course she knew that she had to 'hurt' people when they 'crossed' her, but that didn't lower her standing in Rogue's eyes.
To Rogue, Mystique was an idol, a perfect role model, someone to strive to be like.
In her daughter's eyes, Mystique shone brightly with an aura of mystery and intrigue, and every word she spoke was filed away in the child's brain for later reference.
Rogue admired her mother to no end.
Even on bad days.
Rogue was nine years old when her mother first hit her, and even then it hadn't been exactly scarring to her childhood.
In fact, Rogue felt that she had deserved it, and thought nothing more of it after the incident.
On that day Rogue was sitting at the table, pushing her cold eggs around on her plate while Mystique washed the dishes, "Mama? Do I have to eat these?"
Mystique never turned from the sink as she replied, "Yes."
"But.they're cold."
"I said eat them."
Rogue stuck her lower lip out, sulking as she picked up a chunk of egg and dropped it back on her plate, "It looks like goop. Ooey, gooey, yucky g-"
"Shut your mouth and eat!" Mystique snapped, slamming her hand on the counter.
Rogue stared at her mother's back for a minute, and then, making a face, took a bite of egg; she almost gagged.
Like any other child, she tended to be slightly overdramatic when it came to eating hated foods, and she hurriedly lifted her cup to her lips and gulped down some milk, sticking her tongue out in disgust, but saying nothing; she didn't want to get Mystique angry again.
When she'd managed to force down the rest of her lunch, she brought her plate up to Mystique and dropped it on the counter before turning and starting to walk away.
"Get your cup," Mystique reminded her impatiently as she ran her daughter's plate under the running water.
"Nana never makes me get my cap!"
"I'M not nana. NANA is at the store. Now go get your cup!"
Rogue sighed, irritated and anxious to go play, and hurriedly reached for her cup.
In one heart-stopping moment, her fingers tipped the glass over the edge of the table and it fell, milk and all, to the floor, shattering.
Rogue jumped back, shocked, watching in awe as her milk ran over the just- mopped floor.
Mystique swore and grabbed a towel, rushing forward and pressing it to the tile; with a startled cry she jerked her hand back, swearing again as she jerked the piece of embedded glass from her hand.
Rogue was backed against the counter, her heart beating wildly against her ribs as Mystique stood and placed her hand in the sink, holding her fingers over the cut.
Rogue slowly wandered over, looking into the sink and murmuring, "Sorry, Mama. I'll clean it up."
"Don't go near it, you'll cut yourself," Mystique replied stridently, wincing as she let water run down her hand.
"Does it hurt, Mama?"
"Of course it hurts!"
Rogue bit her lip, hurt at her mom's sharp tone, and hung her head.
"Get me the broom," Mystique said, returning to the mess waiting for her.
Eager to help, Rogue rushed to the pantry and grabbed the broom, miscalculating its weight as she jerked it towards her.
In an instant it crashed to the floor, smacking a pile of plates on the counter and bringing them tumbling down with it.
Rogue jumped back as an explosion of glass greeted her.
Mystique snapped.
Getting to her feet, she stormed over to Rogue and grabbed her wrist, pulling her roughly forward, "Rogue, can't you do a thing right? Why aren't you more careful?!?"
"Mama.you're hurtin' me!"
"Now I have MORE to clean up! Is this what you wanted? IS IT?!?"
"Mama!" Rogue whimpered, pulling at her arm.
"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"
"MAMA!"
"Shut up!"
Mystique's hand came down in a flash, streaking smartly across Rogue's cheek with enough force to whip the child's head around into the counter.
Rogue's shrieks of pain filled the air as Mystique dropped her arm, stunned at her own act.
Blood oozed between Rogue's fingers as she held her hand to her face, sobbing in fear.
"God.lemme see it," Mystique ordered, reaching for Rogue's hands.
Rogue stepped back quickly, shaking as she wailed.
"Let me help you, Rogue! Let me see! What's bleeding?"
Rogue shook her head, backing against the far wall, hands drenched in blood.
Mystique, more panicked now but still agitated, reached forward and snatched the girl's hands away from her face, trying to see what was hurt. After she saw it was her nose, she reached up to the counter and brought down a cloth, holding it to her daughter's face, "Here.it's ok.it's not broken."
Rogue continued screaming as though her face had been beaten in, eyes filled with more hurt and fear then Mystique had ever seen.
"I'm sorry," Mystique said softly, reaching out and stroking Rogue's cheek, "I'm sorry, Baby.I didn't mean to."
Tears bloomed in Mystique's normally cold eyes and she blinked them back hurriedly.
Mystique never apologized, so that in and of itself was a miracle, and when she reached forward and held her daughter to her chest, Rogue didn't struggle to escape; her anxiety was still fresh in her mind, but even she knew that sometimes a mother is the only one able to heal pain.
Even after that day in the kitchen, Rogue's admiration for her mother never wavered.
Never once did her mom's high pillar tumble.
Not a single time did Rogue's brightly shining eyes turn in shame from Mystique.
Never.until the dark, oppressive night of her eleventh birthday.
It was another 'mission' night, and Mystique had told Rogue that there was someone she needed to 'talk with'.
Of course, Rogue had needed to tag along, just in case anyone needed to be 'dealt with', so that was why she found herself sitting between Destiny and Mystique in the stifling hot truck traveling through the twisting roads.
It was uncomfortable and boring, the worst birthday she'd ever imagined having, but she never complained as Mystique took her hand and half-dragged her in the shadows of a dark, enormous mansion. They didn't say much to each other; only the occasional, "Not so loud," "Yes, Mama".
Luckily, by the time they made it to the dank, stuffy cellar, they had met no one, and Rogue was given permission to wait on the stairs.
"Least there's no water here," Rogue muttered, watching Mystique disappear into the house.
The cellar smelled strongly of spices of wine and was hotter than blazes, and Rogue squirmed uncomfortably, sweat trickling slowly down her back and face.
She licked her lips, breathing in the stank air and sighing, looking up at the ceiling, "What kinda birthday is THIS?"
She wished beyond all hope that she could go outside and sit in the cooler air, but she knew that she couldn't; if Mystique found out, she'd skin her alive.
"'What if someone found you?'" she mimicked softly, lifting her sweaty hair off of her shoulders and fanning herself with one hand.
She smiled then and shook her head; Mystique only said that because she loved her.
And she was only doing this mission tonight because she had to.
She was only putting food on the table.
Rogue felt a wave of guilt crash over her; how could she have been so ungrateful?
She bit her lip and wiped the sweat from her face, sitting up straighter; she would sit here all night if need be, just to help her mom.
She had to do something to show her appreciation.
Eventually, though, the heat starting to slowly drip into her senses, causing her brain to fog and her body to slowly fall over in exhaustion and sickness.
Throbbing nausea rose in her throat and the room swam before her eyes, and that was when she stood and stumbled towards the door, "I gotta get outta here."
When her hand touched the cool metal knob she turned it and thrust her weight against the door, falling into the room beyond and immediately feeling a gust of cool air run over her.
After a few seconds, she regained her senses and stood, looking into the house.
It was very nice, elegant but rather informal, with many narrow hallways and doors.
Rogue wandered down a corridor, sweeping her hair back with her hands, eyes flicking in amazement from one room to the next; she'd never been in such a huge house.
Then, panicked voices caught her attention, and she turned towards them, eyes spotting a flight of stairs nearby; her heart stopped as she heard a gunshot followed by a blood-curdling scream.
She stepped back a few paces, swallowing, and then, overcome with morbid curiosity when she heard her mother's voice, she gradually stepped onto the staircase.
The voices became louder, growing from a blur of jumbled noise to distinct words:
"Please.don't do this! I promise.I'll pay you right now!"
"I gave you your chance, Peters, now it's too late."
"I.I didn't have the money then! You have to understand.it was Molly's bill.her hospital bill.she was just so sick, I-"
"So you paid for all of her bills and forgot about more pressing matters. I see."
"No, no! I.I paid her bills.and I had the money for you, I did! But then.then she."
The man's voice broke, and as Rogue reached the top of the stairs she saw a dimly lit room ahead and could faintly make out the outline of Mystique in the doorway.
Rogue's heart lodged in her throat; her mama was holding a gun.
The man continued at last, tearfully, "She died, and I had.had to pay for her funeral..!"
"Her funeral?"
"Y-Yes."
"Now, that could have waited, Peters."
There was another gunshot, and Rogue jumped as the man gasped in pain again.
"You could have paid ME first, put your wife under the bed, saved up your money, and THEN paid for your precious FUNERAL. If you'd done THAT, things would have worked out MUCH more smoothly. You see, Peters, I'm a mother. I have a child, and I have to provide for her. You don't make it very easy when you withhold much-needed money for some woman's funeral."
"Y-yes, I understand.pl-please.don't.I'll.I'll make it up to you."
"Oh, Darling, it's far too late for that now. But don't worry. Killing you will be enough payback for me."
Rogue stood frozen, breath stopping, blood freezing, as Mystique cocked her gun, aimed, and, despite the man's final; screamed pleas, shot.
His final shriek was cut short.
Rogue stood quivering as Mystique scoffed, shaking her head and sliding her gun into her waistband as she turned into the hallway.
When she caught sight of her daughter, all color drained from her face.
The two stared at each other, and in those few seconds that seemed to last a century, Mystique saw years of endless respect and awe disappear form her daughter's eyes and be immediately replaced with confusion and horror.
Then Rogue screamed, sharp and clear, unable to respond any other way.
Mystique rushed forward, clasping a hand over her daughter's mouth and pressing her against a wall, listening with baited breath and thudding heart
Rogue struggled against her, shrieking into her hand, pulling at her arms, pushing against her, begging to be freed.
Mystique hushed her sharply, "Stop it! You'll get us caught! IT was enough with that stupid Peters screaming! The neighbor's have probably already called the police, you want them to-"
"We have you surrounded! Come out now with your hands up!"
Mystique seemed to freeze for an instant, completely out of ideas.
She gazed at Rogue, lost, almost afraid.
Then she smiled, skin shifting to that of a young, handsome man.
She spoke in his voice, keeping her hand over Rogue's mouth, "Why don't you come in here and get me?!?"
There was a short silence, and then, ".Peters?"
"Whaddya want?"
"We.we thought.are you ok?"
Mystique laughed cruelly, "Sure I am. If I were you, I'd be more worried 'bout this poor little girl here."
"Girl? What girl?"
"Dunno who she is. Just some stupid kid that's come wanderin' in. I say she's a trespasser. I'm gonna give her the death penalty."
There was a panicked outcry, and the officer shouted, "Peters, have you gone berserk?!?"
"Dunno. Maybe dear Molly's death was just too much. All's I know is that this kid's gonna get it."
Rogue pushed harder against Mystique's chest, blinking back tears.
"Now, Peters.don't do anything stupid...why don't you come out here so we can see you.?"
Mystique chuckled, shaking her head as she jerked Rogue to her chest and ambled out to the nearby balcony, which was illuminated by the flashlights and spotlights of police.
Rogue squinted in pain as the lights hit her and closed her eyes, feeling sick.
".Peters? Whatcha want with that little girl?"
"Peters' shrugged, "Dunno. Maybe I oughta shoot her."
In the next instant, Rogue felt the cool metal of her mother's gun against her head and she whimpered shrinking away from the weapon instinctively.
"Peters.now, c'mon. Don't do that."
"Why not? Why shouldn't I?'
"What'd she ever do to you? Why you wanna hurt her?"
"I feel like it."
"Well then, hurt someone who deserves it, Peters! Go hurt someone who's done somethin' wrong, like a criminal of some sort! Just leave the kid outta this!"
"You want me to hurt someone who deserves it?"
"Yea! Just let the kid go!"
"Let 'er go?"
The crowd below shouted a chorus of agreement.
"Alright. I'll let her go.
Rogue felt herself being shoved backwards, into the house and onto her back.
As she watched, Mystique-Peters held the gun to her-his head and grinned insanely, "I'll kill someone who deserves it."
For an instant, Rogue wanted to scream for her mother to stop, that she still loved her even though she'd done such a bad thing.
But then Mystique stepped back into the shadows, still grinning, still holding the gun.
The police were yelling at her to stop, not to shoot.
Mystique lowered the gun to the floor and shot, sliding it into her waistband, turning, and hurriedly lifting Rogue to her feet, "Let's go."
The night of Rogue's eleventh birthday was forever etched into her mind.
It was added to her mental file of most hated memories and was never forgotten, but somehow aided in her lifetime purpose, just like everything else.
On the way home that night, Rogue was silent, thinking back on how her mother had cleverly tricked the cops into believing Peters had killed himself.
It really had been ingenious and well though-out.
If only she could have believed it herself.
If only she hadn't seen the truth.
Rogue had seen a part of Mystique that she wished had never existed.
It was a part so dark and so purely evil that it hurt to see.
Rogue couldn't think on it too long without feeling sick, so she pushed it from her mind and chose to 'forget' it, leaning against her mother's shoulder and drifting into dreamless sleep as they drove home in the small, boiling hot car.
I'm sorry if this A/N seems rushed.it is. Teehee. Boy, I really need ideas for this story, so go ahead and SUBMIT folks!
Goddess of Lurv (who shall form now on be known as Numeral Uno, because of how she was my first reviewer and always manages to review my stories before most anyone else): My dear friend, how SWEET of you to review! Very good to hear from you! *cackles* Yes. Mystique IS evil. MWAHAHAHA! Bad girl. *slaps Mystique* *winces* Whoops. I worte her that way.hmm. Don't worry, she does have a heart.for herself. Teehee. NO, seriously, she does, as you'll see in this chapter (sorta). Oh, don't wory. I DO live in front of my computer. Lol.
Vamp: Hello, Vamp. I like your username. Does it stand for vampire? I'm glad you like Mystique evil! I do too. As you can see, haha. Got any ideas for the next chapter?
L: WAHOO! I LOVE IT! Username sweet and simple! Lol. My dear,m dear friend, you're questions are mine to answer! The X-Men, she will meet. She WILL discover how unfair her life is. Ther may be a small smidgen of romance ;-) with a surprise stranger ;-). Keep up the reviews, eh? Nad thenx for the ideas!
EternalEvanescent: Ello ello! Ha! MYSTIQUE IS CRUEL! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes I did portray her as cruel, huh? *ponders chapter* Perhaps I went a cit far.Nah. It's all a large part of Rogue's future! HA! Tis all a part! MWAHAHAHA! Ok. Sorry. Bit hyper. Wow. I made you feel my story? For real? COOL! Thanks! I'm so flattered! Awww *pats Pixie's shoulder* *Mystique turns around and whallops Pyro and the head. Twilight immeidtaly screams at her and slaps her. An all-out fight ensues*
Now then, all my lovely friends. Here is the moment you've all waited for:
Chapter 2
Rogue had never thought of her mother as 'bad'.
She'd never considered her to be a villain or murderer.
Of course she knew that she had to 'hurt' people when they 'crossed' her, but that didn't lower her standing in Rogue's eyes.
To Rogue, Mystique was an idol, a perfect role model, someone to strive to be like.
In her daughter's eyes, Mystique shone brightly with an aura of mystery and intrigue, and every word she spoke was filed away in the child's brain for later reference.
Rogue admired her mother to no end.
Even on bad days.
Rogue was nine years old when her mother first hit her, and even then it hadn't been exactly scarring to her childhood.
In fact, Rogue felt that she had deserved it, and thought nothing more of it after the incident.
On that day Rogue was sitting at the table, pushing her cold eggs around on her plate while Mystique washed the dishes, "Mama? Do I have to eat these?"
Mystique never turned from the sink as she replied, "Yes."
"But.they're cold."
"I said eat them."
Rogue stuck her lower lip out, sulking as she picked up a chunk of egg and dropped it back on her plate, "It looks like goop. Ooey, gooey, yucky g-"
"Shut your mouth and eat!" Mystique snapped, slamming her hand on the counter.
Rogue stared at her mother's back for a minute, and then, making a face, took a bite of egg; she almost gagged.
Like any other child, she tended to be slightly overdramatic when it came to eating hated foods, and she hurriedly lifted her cup to her lips and gulped down some milk, sticking her tongue out in disgust, but saying nothing; she didn't want to get Mystique angry again.
When she'd managed to force down the rest of her lunch, she brought her plate up to Mystique and dropped it on the counter before turning and starting to walk away.
"Get your cup," Mystique reminded her impatiently as she ran her daughter's plate under the running water.
"Nana never makes me get my cap!"
"I'M not nana. NANA is at the store. Now go get your cup!"
Rogue sighed, irritated and anxious to go play, and hurriedly reached for her cup.
In one heart-stopping moment, her fingers tipped the glass over the edge of the table and it fell, milk and all, to the floor, shattering.
Rogue jumped back, shocked, watching in awe as her milk ran over the just- mopped floor.
Mystique swore and grabbed a towel, rushing forward and pressing it to the tile; with a startled cry she jerked her hand back, swearing again as she jerked the piece of embedded glass from her hand.
Rogue was backed against the counter, her heart beating wildly against her ribs as Mystique stood and placed her hand in the sink, holding her fingers over the cut.
Rogue slowly wandered over, looking into the sink and murmuring, "Sorry, Mama. I'll clean it up."
"Don't go near it, you'll cut yourself," Mystique replied stridently, wincing as she let water run down her hand.
"Does it hurt, Mama?"
"Of course it hurts!"
Rogue bit her lip, hurt at her mom's sharp tone, and hung her head.
"Get me the broom," Mystique said, returning to the mess waiting for her.
Eager to help, Rogue rushed to the pantry and grabbed the broom, miscalculating its weight as she jerked it towards her.
In an instant it crashed to the floor, smacking a pile of plates on the counter and bringing them tumbling down with it.
Rogue jumped back as an explosion of glass greeted her.
Mystique snapped.
Getting to her feet, she stormed over to Rogue and grabbed her wrist, pulling her roughly forward, "Rogue, can't you do a thing right? Why aren't you more careful?!?"
"Mama.you're hurtin' me!"
"Now I have MORE to clean up! Is this what you wanted? IS IT?!?"
"Mama!" Rogue whimpered, pulling at her arm.
"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"
"MAMA!"
"Shut up!"
Mystique's hand came down in a flash, streaking smartly across Rogue's cheek with enough force to whip the child's head around into the counter.
Rogue's shrieks of pain filled the air as Mystique dropped her arm, stunned at her own act.
Blood oozed between Rogue's fingers as she held her hand to her face, sobbing in fear.
"God.lemme see it," Mystique ordered, reaching for Rogue's hands.
Rogue stepped back quickly, shaking as she wailed.
"Let me help you, Rogue! Let me see! What's bleeding?"
Rogue shook her head, backing against the far wall, hands drenched in blood.
Mystique, more panicked now but still agitated, reached forward and snatched the girl's hands away from her face, trying to see what was hurt. After she saw it was her nose, she reached up to the counter and brought down a cloth, holding it to her daughter's face, "Here.it's ok.it's not broken."
Rogue continued screaming as though her face had been beaten in, eyes filled with more hurt and fear then Mystique had ever seen.
"I'm sorry," Mystique said softly, reaching out and stroking Rogue's cheek, "I'm sorry, Baby.I didn't mean to."
Tears bloomed in Mystique's normally cold eyes and she blinked them back hurriedly.
Mystique never apologized, so that in and of itself was a miracle, and when she reached forward and held her daughter to her chest, Rogue didn't struggle to escape; her anxiety was still fresh in her mind, but even she knew that sometimes a mother is the only one able to heal pain.
Even after that day in the kitchen, Rogue's admiration for her mother never wavered.
Never once did her mom's high pillar tumble.
Not a single time did Rogue's brightly shining eyes turn in shame from Mystique.
Never.until the dark, oppressive night of her eleventh birthday.
It was another 'mission' night, and Mystique had told Rogue that there was someone she needed to 'talk with'.
Of course, Rogue had needed to tag along, just in case anyone needed to be 'dealt with', so that was why she found herself sitting between Destiny and Mystique in the stifling hot truck traveling through the twisting roads.
It was uncomfortable and boring, the worst birthday she'd ever imagined having, but she never complained as Mystique took her hand and half-dragged her in the shadows of a dark, enormous mansion. They didn't say much to each other; only the occasional, "Not so loud," "Yes, Mama".
Luckily, by the time they made it to the dank, stuffy cellar, they had met no one, and Rogue was given permission to wait on the stairs.
"Least there's no water here," Rogue muttered, watching Mystique disappear into the house.
The cellar smelled strongly of spices of wine and was hotter than blazes, and Rogue squirmed uncomfortably, sweat trickling slowly down her back and face.
She licked her lips, breathing in the stank air and sighing, looking up at the ceiling, "What kinda birthday is THIS?"
She wished beyond all hope that she could go outside and sit in the cooler air, but she knew that she couldn't; if Mystique found out, she'd skin her alive.
"'What if someone found you?'" she mimicked softly, lifting her sweaty hair off of her shoulders and fanning herself with one hand.
She smiled then and shook her head; Mystique only said that because she loved her.
And she was only doing this mission tonight because she had to.
She was only putting food on the table.
Rogue felt a wave of guilt crash over her; how could she have been so ungrateful?
She bit her lip and wiped the sweat from her face, sitting up straighter; she would sit here all night if need be, just to help her mom.
She had to do something to show her appreciation.
Eventually, though, the heat starting to slowly drip into her senses, causing her brain to fog and her body to slowly fall over in exhaustion and sickness.
Throbbing nausea rose in her throat and the room swam before her eyes, and that was when she stood and stumbled towards the door, "I gotta get outta here."
When her hand touched the cool metal knob she turned it and thrust her weight against the door, falling into the room beyond and immediately feeling a gust of cool air run over her.
After a few seconds, she regained her senses and stood, looking into the house.
It was very nice, elegant but rather informal, with many narrow hallways and doors.
Rogue wandered down a corridor, sweeping her hair back with her hands, eyes flicking in amazement from one room to the next; she'd never been in such a huge house.
Then, panicked voices caught her attention, and she turned towards them, eyes spotting a flight of stairs nearby; her heart stopped as she heard a gunshot followed by a blood-curdling scream.
She stepped back a few paces, swallowing, and then, overcome with morbid curiosity when she heard her mother's voice, she gradually stepped onto the staircase.
The voices became louder, growing from a blur of jumbled noise to distinct words:
"Please.don't do this! I promise.I'll pay you right now!"
"I gave you your chance, Peters, now it's too late."
"I.I didn't have the money then! You have to understand.it was Molly's bill.her hospital bill.she was just so sick, I-"
"So you paid for all of her bills and forgot about more pressing matters. I see."
"No, no! I.I paid her bills.and I had the money for you, I did! But then.then she."
The man's voice broke, and as Rogue reached the top of the stairs she saw a dimly lit room ahead and could faintly make out the outline of Mystique in the doorway.
Rogue's heart lodged in her throat; her mama was holding a gun.
The man continued at last, tearfully, "She died, and I had.had to pay for her funeral..!"
"Her funeral?"
"Y-Yes."
"Now, that could have waited, Peters."
There was another gunshot, and Rogue jumped as the man gasped in pain again.
"You could have paid ME first, put your wife under the bed, saved up your money, and THEN paid for your precious FUNERAL. If you'd done THAT, things would have worked out MUCH more smoothly. You see, Peters, I'm a mother. I have a child, and I have to provide for her. You don't make it very easy when you withhold much-needed money for some woman's funeral."
"Y-yes, I understand.pl-please.don't.I'll.I'll make it up to you."
"Oh, Darling, it's far too late for that now. But don't worry. Killing you will be enough payback for me."
Rogue stood frozen, breath stopping, blood freezing, as Mystique cocked her gun, aimed, and, despite the man's final; screamed pleas, shot.
His final shriek was cut short.
Rogue stood quivering as Mystique scoffed, shaking her head and sliding her gun into her waistband as she turned into the hallway.
When she caught sight of her daughter, all color drained from her face.
The two stared at each other, and in those few seconds that seemed to last a century, Mystique saw years of endless respect and awe disappear form her daughter's eyes and be immediately replaced with confusion and horror.
Then Rogue screamed, sharp and clear, unable to respond any other way.
Mystique rushed forward, clasping a hand over her daughter's mouth and pressing her against a wall, listening with baited breath and thudding heart
Rogue struggled against her, shrieking into her hand, pulling at her arms, pushing against her, begging to be freed.
Mystique hushed her sharply, "Stop it! You'll get us caught! IT was enough with that stupid Peters screaming! The neighbor's have probably already called the police, you want them to-"
"We have you surrounded! Come out now with your hands up!"
Mystique seemed to freeze for an instant, completely out of ideas.
She gazed at Rogue, lost, almost afraid.
Then she smiled, skin shifting to that of a young, handsome man.
She spoke in his voice, keeping her hand over Rogue's mouth, "Why don't you come in here and get me?!?"
There was a short silence, and then, ".Peters?"
"Whaddya want?"
"We.we thought.are you ok?"
Mystique laughed cruelly, "Sure I am. If I were you, I'd be more worried 'bout this poor little girl here."
"Girl? What girl?"
"Dunno who she is. Just some stupid kid that's come wanderin' in. I say she's a trespasser. I'm gonna give her the death penalty."
There was a panicked outcry, and the officer shouted, "Peters, have you gone berserk?!?"
"Dunno. Maybe dear Molly's death was just too much. All's I know is that this kid's gonna get it."
Rogue pushed harder against Mystique's chest, blinking back tears.
"Now, Peters.don't do anything stupid...why don't you come out here so we can see you.?"
Mystique chuckled, shaking her head as she jerked Rogue to her chest and ambled out to the nearby balcony, which was illuminated by the flashlights and spotlights of police.
Rogue squinted in pain as the lights hit her and closed her eyes, feeling sick.
".Peters? Whatcha want with that little girl?"
"Peters' shrugged, "Dunno. Maybe I oughta shoot her."
In the next instant, Rogue felt the cool metal of her mother's gun against her head and she whimpered shrinking away from the weapon instinctively.
"Peters.now, c'mon. Don't do that."
"Why not? Why shouldn't I?'
"What'd she ever do to you? Why you wanna hurt her?"
"I feel like it."
"Well then, hurt someone who deserves it, Peters! Go hurt someone who's done somethin' wrong, like a criminal of some sort! Just leave the kid outta this!"
"You want me to hurt someone who deserves it?"
"Yea! Just let the kid go!"
"Let 'er go?"
The crowd below shouted a chorus of agreement.
"Alright. I'll let her go.
Rogue felt herself being shoved backwards, into the house and onto her back.
As she watched, Mystique-Peters held the gun to her-his head and grinned insanely, "I'll kill someone who deserves it."
For an instant, Rogue wanted to scream for her mother to stop, that she still loved her even though she'd done such a bad thing.
But then Mystique stepped back into the shadows, still grinning, still holding the gun.
The police were yelling at her to stop, not to shoot.
Mystique lowered the gun to the floor and shot, sliding it into her waistband, turning, and hurriedly lifting Rogue to her feet, "Let's go."
The night of Rogue's eleventh birthday was forever etched into her mind.
It was added to her mental file of most hated memories and was never forgotten, but somehow aided in her lifetime purpose, just like everything else.
On the way home that night, Rogue was silent, thinking back on how her mother had cleverly tricked the cops into believing Peters had killed himself.
It really had been ingenious and well though-out.
If only she could have believed it herself.
If only she hadn't seen the truth.
Rogue had seen a part of Mystique that she wished had never existed.
It was a part so dark and so purely evil that it hurt to see.
Rogue couldn't think on it too long without feeling sick, so she pushed it from her mind and chose to 'forget' it, leaning against her mother's shoulder and drifting into dreamless sleep as they drove home in the small, boiling hot car.