Callous
Chapter 03 – Adrift
He couldn't sleep… again. It happened a lot lately. He'd be dead tired, lay down in his bed, nestle against the pillow and under the blanket, close his eyes, and then be plagued with his racing thoughts. If it wasn't the thoughts keeping him from falling asleep, then it was the nightmares that were waking him. So, he'd taken to going out. It wasn't an unusual thing for him. He had a lot of energy, and would often try to burn it off before he could fall asleep. The exercise always came in the same form, running. He was Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver, the speed demon, after all, wasn't he?
So, again, he was racing through the streets and woods of Bayville and the surrounding areas trying to burn off energy, steam, and the thoughts and nightmares that were plaguing him.
What do I expect when I sold out my friends, my teammates, my family, those that were closest to me, just as I sold out my sworn enemies? What do I expect when I have a megalomaniac bent on world domination for a father? When my sister hates me and doesn't trust me and I've given her reason not to? When she's got anger issues and has to fight just to keep from taking them out on me and I've given her plenty of reasons to do so? When-my-father-is-arguably-the-most-powerful-mutant-in-the-world? When-that-hateful,-angry,-distrusting-sister-of-mine-is-also-one-of-the-most-powerful-mutants-in-the-world? When-all-I-can-do-is-hurt-them-and-enlist-their-wrath… andmovequickly? Whatispeed-asfunasitis-andasfreeasitmakesmefeel-comparedtoallthat?
"Nothing," He said coming to a stop with the weight of that simple statement. He leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath. He pretended he was winded from the run. But he wasn't. He was winded by his thoughts.
When he'd finally caught his breath, he looked up to see where he'd landed himself. It was a nice view, actually. He was beside a well-paved road with trees forming a canopy over the road for the span of several blocks. In the small gaps in the canopy overhead, he could see the stars brighter than in the more densely populated parts in the city. That meant there was less light pollution here, a fewer amount of houses and stores and offices and other sources of light that would create a haze between him and the illumination of the stars themselves.
He used to watch the stars for hours at a time. Him and Wanda both. But that was before their father stored her in that mental institution. That was before either of their mutations had surfaced. That was before remaining still for hours at a time wasn't pure torture because he now felt like the world was constantly moving in slow motion around him. He was impatient with it. It made him irritable, and that irritability combined with his arrogance, made it difficult for people to want to get close to him. And the fewer people that were closer to him, the fewer people there were for him to hurt.
With the self-deprecating thoughts that were keeping him up that night, it was hard to place his arrogance as being real. But it was. Part of it was blatantly, innately him. Nobody should really blame him for it. Look at his father. His father spent hours lecturing him on how he was part of the next evolution of man.
"You are a mutant," his father had said dozens of times over when he was a wee kid, before that mutation had even manifested, "And as a mutant you are to inherit the earth from humankind. You are my son, the son of arguably one of the strongest mutants of all time and that makes you special. That makes you better than any other human, obviously, and even better than most other mutants. Your power will be great and your responsibility even greater."
Of course, with words like those repeated over and over enough times, it becomes understandable how he could get such an inflated ego. But his plaguing thoughts of self-hatred would suggest otherwise about himself. They would if he didn't bolster that arrogance when he was in front of people, used it like a mask, like a suit of armor, much like Rogue used her own armor of cloth for her skin and Goth attire for her inner-self, to keep away the squeamish. But even a mask, even an act, as contradictory to the thoughts behind the mask may be, if worn long enough, if acted out long enough, could become real. Especially so, when the start of that arrogance was so ingrained in him by his father.
So, his arrogance was real. That didn't mean he didn't care about anyone else. That didn't mean he didn't think about anybody else. That just meant that he thought about himself more than he thought about them. The type of thoughts a person had weren't necessarily what made them arrogant, made them self-centered. It was the fact that they thought of themselves first and foremost above all else. Thoughts of self-promotion, thoughts of self-hatred, they were all thoughts of himself. And they came before thoughts of everyone else.
Well, usually.
There were some benefits to his arrogance. It seemed to draw the attention of teenage girls directly to him. He had to admit he kind of liked that. It made him feel special… made him feel special in a more… a more human way. And that, oddly enough, made him feel more ordinary, more average, more like everyone else in the world. And that was, even more oddly enough when you considered his stark arrogance, well, that was a comfort to him.
Plus, he loved the challenge he'd given himself of making every girl swoon to his presence. If there was one thing he loved more than himself, it was a challenge. It was one of the reasons—not the only one or the biggest one, but it was a large reason—he stayed with the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood, with the exception of Wanda, weren't too challenging as opposition goes. But, the Brotherhood's adversaries, the X-Men—X-Geeks-that-is—they were challenging adversaries.
Pietro finally realized where he was. Just a little ahead of him was the private road that led to Xavier's Institute.
"And-speaking-of-X-Geeks," Pietro said aloud to himself in speed speech, "And-challenges-and-girls—"
And-Rogue-and-caring.
"—Caring… Where-the-hell-did-that-come-from? I,-Pietro-Maximoff,-the-great-speed-demon-himself,-was-talking-about-challenges-and-girls."
AndRogueandcaring, said the little demon inside of him. You know who he his, that little voice that you tried not to listen to, that little voice that goaded you into doing silly and risky things.
"Oh,-forget-it…" he said slapping his hands and rubbing them together in mischievous delight. "Time-to-have-some-fun."
He zipped off ahead, intending to play some prank on the X-Men. However, when he came face to face with a solitary figure, when his eyes locked onto the ruby on onyx orbs of that figure that was slinking out of the groves of trees that surrounded the Institute, Pietro froze in place. It was Remy LeBeau, AKA Gambit, who was meeting Pietro's steely gaze.
Gambit was dressed for his two favorite past-times, thievery and seduction. The uniform was for stealth, dark and clinging as it was, and for easy movement. His excellent agility was a part of his mutation, not a power per se, since he had to stay in practice to keep it up to par, but an offshoot of his mutation nonetheless. The brown leather duster, with its multitudes of secret and easily accessible pockets, was for pocketing what he stole and for… flair.
What-the-hell-is-he-doing-here? Quicksilver wondered.
Gambit casually lit a cigarette by placing a tip of his finger to the end of it—and SPARK, a tiny charge ignited it. He took a long slow drag and released it, casually, like he was having a pleasant conversation with a friend, not like he'd run into a rival—rival? Rival for what?—in the middle of an isolated part of town in the middle of the night.
"'Allo, mon ami," Gambit said coolly to Pietro.
Gambit was a reluctant member of Pietro's father's new fighting force. When Pietro was working with his father, he was a teammate of Gambit's. That was during the short period right before he had betrayed the Brotherhood and the team up with the X-Men—And-Rogue-with-them—before he'd come to his senses and made amends, of sorts, with all of them.
"I'm not your friend, Gambit," Pietro snarled as he glared at Gambit. In response, Gambit merely shrugged. It was a common gesture of his. The shrug meant everything and nothing all at once.
Pietro scoffed at Gambit. He never liked the scoundrel much. Their personalities clashed because they were so alike in so many ways, yet so different in the nuances of those similar ways. Gambit was arrogant, like he was, but Gambit was so arrogant he was blatantly cocky. Worse, was that Gambit could back up every bit of the things he was cocky about… his fighting skills, his control over his powers, his stealth skills, his thievery skills, his way with women—not girls, with Gambit it was always Women.
These things were hardly a challenge for Gambit, and that really goaded Pietro. These things came to Gambit as easily as breathing. But, oh, like Pietro, Gambit loved a good challenge. As his code name implied, Remy LeBeau loved risks, loved the high stakes; he loved a good gamble. Especially since he usually won. For instance, Gambit would often spar with Sabretooth because he said that Sabretooth was the only one of the bunch of them that had any decent fighting skills, the only one of them that could give him a run for his money. Nearly half time, the Cajun actually won.
Gambit would also break into high security offices and banks just for the thrill of doing it. Magneto had actually forbidden Gambit from continuing his freelance thievery, though Gambit had been a contract-only thief, high risk, big money gigs only. For barely being eighteen, Gambit was already a master thief. Magneto spouted on to him about how, as mutants, they were above such petty things as thievery for monetary profit. Of course, that didn't stop Magneto from using Gambit to steal information or technology to aid them in their Cause. Everything was always about the Cause for Magneto. And anything that could be used to further the Cause was acceptable.
And as for Women? Well, Remy LeBeau could stand, completely concealed in the dark, and Women would be drawn to him. He knew how to sweet-talk to them, how to manipulate them to his whims, then drop them like yesterday's news. He often used his way with women to help him in his thievery. He would murmur to them in French, coo to them about how they were the only one for him, make them feel utterly unique and special and like they were the only person in the world that he was interested in. That's when he would convince them to give him some access codes to some security system or some safe or to some computer file. Then he would complete the job, never to speak or look at them again. Sure, he had his charm power on his side for things like this, but Remy never needed to use it just to get a Woman to notice him, to fall for him. It was about the challenge, wasn't it? But, honestly, even though Pietro hated to admit it, Gambit, Remy LeBeau, well, he was just that suave.
"Did my father send you here?" Pietro asked him as they faced on the private road leading to the Xavier Institute. They were over a dozen feet apart.
"Non," came Gambit's easy response. One word and it was so final. But he continued anyway. It was fun to mess with Pietro at any rate. "Gambit be here for de same reason he suppose y' be here."
"Really? And that would be…" Pietro said, baiting him.
Gambit gave him a look that was a mixture of a frown and a cocky grin when he said, "Now, Pietro, bein' coy doesn' suit y', n'est-ce pas?"
Pietro didn't answer him; just continued to glare at him. He knew exactly what the object of Gambit's personal mission was. He'd known it almost from his first meeting of Gambit. It had been just a week or two before the actual fight where the combined forces of the X-Men and the Brotherhood fought against Magneto, before the act of Pietro's betrayal. Magneto had arranged the meeting so that the group could acquaint themselves with each other and their anticipated adversaries.
Magneto had pointed to the skinny blonde guy and introduced him as, "John Allerdyce, codename, Pyro." Pyro was a boisterous, boasting Australian with the ability to control and direct flame as though it were a living pet to perform tricks for him. He couldn't create the flame though, so he usually carried a flamethrower around with him, so he'd have plenty of fire to work with.
"G'day," Pyro had greeted Pietro.
Next, Magneto pointed to the tall, muscle-bound man with short black hair and Slavic features, and said, "Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin. He is also called Colossus. He has immense strength which is increased to staggering levels when he is in his bio-metallic form." On cue, Colossus transformed his skin into organic steel.
"Good to finally meet you," Colossus had said with a thick Russian accent.
There was a quietness about Colossus, a peacefulness and easy-going quality to him that made Pietro wonder why he was working for someone like his father. Why-did-anyone-work-for-him? Pietro shrugged it off as his father moved to the last new face.
Magneto pointed to the member that stayed to the few shadows that were available in the briefing room. This final member seemed perfectly at ease and yet, completely aware of everything in his surroundings as he leaned against the wall in the corner, one foot propped against the wall. His head was bowed so that the longish red-brown bangs of his unkempt hair fell in a curtain over his eyes, throwing his face in shadow. One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his duster and the other held a retractable bo-staff at a diagonal to the wall, its tri-pointed bottom pitted in the crease of where the wall and floor met.
"This is Remy LeBeau, code named Gambit."
Gambit flashed his trademark cocky grin and his Diable Blanc eyes flashed in unison. It was the first time Pietro saw those eerie orbs light up the shadows around his face and it startled him. Gambit noticed and broadened his grin and said, "Only Remy t' de femmes… an' some call Gambit de Ragin' Cajun."
Sabretooth actually chuckled, as did Pyro. Magneto grimaced at Gambit's antics, Colossus seemed unfazed by it, and Pietro scoffed in annoyance. Pietro somehow knew, right then, that Gambit would be another Evan for him. He also knew Gambit would be a much tougher adversary than Evan was.
Magneto cleared his throat and continued, "He can charge objects, causing them to explode to his desired degree. He can also charm people. He has increased agility and flexibility as well, and some increase of strength, though very slight compared to Colossus."
As soon as Magneto had started listing off Gambit's mutations, Pietro noticed Gambit's expression harden. This change told him that Gambit did not like having his abilities revealed in even the contained openness of the briefing room. It told him that Gambit liked to remain a mystery, a wild card. It also told him that he was probably holding some information about his capabilities back, something he could use to pull his butt out of the fire if it ever came to that. Pietro was tempted to inform his father of his suspicions, but decided to wait and see. He already didn't trust the Ragin' Cajun and was certain he wouldn't like him. He'd save this suspicion for when it would do him the most good. And right then, during that initial meeting, wasn't nearly enough of a sticky situation to pull out that trump card.
Once introductions had been completed, Magneto commenced discussing all of their anticipated opponents for the upcoming attack. He brought up bios of the Brotherhood and the X-Men, accompanied by pictures for most, one by one, right after another and discussed each of their fighting tactics and their mutations. Gambit made some comment or gesture about each and every female that was brought up. He would chuckle, whistle, and/or made some flippant remark of what he'd like to do with them.
By the fifth or sixth time, Sabretooth tried to shut Gambit up, by saying, "This is business, Gumbo, not a peep show."
Gambit immediately countered with that trademark cocky grin of his, and said, "De femmes toujours be Gambit's business, neh?"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. To you, they're just meat," Sabretooth added in a challenging tone. From that statement alone, Pietro knew that Gambit and Sabretooth had known each other before working for Magneto, and at least one of their previous encounters had involved a woman.
Gambit's gaze hardened instantaneously. He narrowed those Diable Blanc eyes of his dangerously on Sabretooth and said, "Non, Creed, raw meat be more t' y' likin', oui? Gambit prefer his women livin' an' willin'… an' Gambit got non problemme gettin' 'em dat way eit'er, hein."
Sabretooth growled, but Magneto cut off further arguments right then and there. He returned at once to his discussion of their likely opponents. "All of these mutants possess the five most common forms of mutations. They are either based in mind or sensory abilities, physical manipulation or manifestations, nature manipulation, modes of travel—teleportation or speed like with Pietro here—or energy generation and manipulation."
He then cleared the screen of all the pictures and bios of Xavier, Beast, Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops, Jean Grey, Kurt, Spyke, Berzerker, Cannonball, Iceman, Jubilee, Magma, Sunspot, Wolfsbane, Boom-Boom, Mystique, Avalanche, Blob, and Toad. Then he brought up four more bios.
"These four, however, have much rarer forms of mutation," Magneto continued, "To my knowledge, they are the only mutants of their kind." A picture of the youngest Institute occupant filled the screen. "Jamie Madrox, Multiple, has the ability to duplicate himself. Each duplicate is sentient and has some semblance of individuality. As far as I know, he cannot form these duplicates at will. They occur when a forceful impact is made on his body. There is also no known limit to the number of multiples he can form."
"The kid's an army all by himself," Pyro said, genuinely impressed.
"Yes, but he is very young and has little to no fighting skills. It is unlikely you will come up against him." Jamie's info faded back with the others and Kitty's info filled the screen.
Gambit immediately commented, "A li'l too young an' too sweet f' Gambit's tastes, mais not bad."
Pietro balled his fists at his sides. Even though he was in the midst of betraying the Brotherhood members, he still didn't like Gambit's commentary on Lance's ladylove. It was fine if Pietro himself made commentary about Kitty or Lance's googoo-ness over her, but it wasn't okay for Gambit to do so.
"This is Katherine Pryde," Magneto said, ignoring Gambit's interjections about the female specimens he was discussing. "Her mutation, though it is technically based in both the categories of modes of travel and physical manipulation, is unique in its specifications. She has the ability to phase. She can become intangible and pass through any solid substance. When she phases through electrical systems she tends to cause them to short out."
Kitty's info faded back, leaving only Wanda and Rogue left to discuss. Magneto started in on them by announcing, "These last two are the wild cards of the all of them."
"Feisty li'l bitches, too. The both of 'em," Sabretooth said.
"Y' know what dey say in N'awlins, don' y'? De spicier, de better."
Magneto then pulled up Wanda's bio and picture. Even as he did so, he beat Gambit to the punch by saying, "Before you comment further on this one, Gambit, let me inform you that she is my daughter and Pietro's fraternal twin sister."
Gambit abided and managed to bite his tongue on his comments.
"This is the Scarlet Witch," Magneto continued. "Her powers are completely unpredictable and seemingly limitless. In simplest terms, she makes the unlikely, the improbable, the impossible, occur. You could equate her with being a modern day witch. She creates hex fields. Anything, and I mean anything can occur within one of these fields. She does not have much control over what it is that occurs, though. Which makes her even more dangerous because of her unpredictability."
Wanda's info faded back and Rogue's pulled forward. Before Magneto could announce her, Pyro said, "What's her power, imitating the dead?"
Sabretooth laughed. For some reason Pietro didn't find anything funny about the comment, odd since he'd always enjoyed razing Rogue before. She was so easy to send flying off the handle. She'd snap at any little thing, it seemed.
Gambit, surprisingly, didn't comment at all about Rogue.
Pietro had to admit that Rogue was an acquired taste for a palate that didn't arise often. Not many guys in Bayville went after her. She wasn't ugly by any means, and she had quite a fit and lithe figure. But, her bitterness showed in her expression, her stance, her posture, and her overall demeanor. She was a lot like Wanda in that way. Plus, the Goth look didn't go over too well with a large portion of the small town's population.
Still, Gambit had commented specifically on every other female, with the exception of Wanda, of course. But, could Wanda be counted, since Magneto had preceded Gambit's comment of her with a warning of his own? Pietro really didn't believe that Gambit was simply turned off by neither Rogue's Goth adornments nor the challenging and warning gleam in her emerald eyes. Actually, Pietro figured Gambit would be attracted to that spark. Yet, Gambit said nothing, and merely studied her picture and her bio and actually seemed to pay attention as Magneto described her abilities.
"No, Pyro," Magneto said with a cautious tone of voice, "That is indeed not her mutation. Rogue here is nearly as difficult to categorize as Wanda is. In some ways, her powers fit her in the mind and sensory ability section. But, in a deeper explanation of her powers, she can actually fit into all categories. She has only one natural mutation. It is the ability to absorb any living, breathing sentient being. It is completely uncontrollable and is triggered by the barest skin-to-skin contact. Once triggered, Rogue takes into herself the thoughts, memories, skills, talents and gifts of that person. If it is a mutant, she takes into herself their mutant abilities. She then possesses those things for herself. Thus, she is capable of wielding any power that exists in another living being by merely touching them. The length of skin contact is directly proportional to the length of time she possesses those abilities. It is estimated to be about a 1 to 60 ratio. The use of her power normally renders her victim unconscious. Although, I have suspicions that if the contact was prolonged for too much time, the victim would die, possibly leaving Rogue with all of his abilities permanently. This theory has never yet been tested though."
This last statement made Pietro visibly shutter. He'd known Rogue's power was dangerous. He'd experienced it for himself a few times. And even though he—and everyone else that knew her, he figured—had wondered if her powers could be lethal, Pietro could not recall anyone ever actually stating it flat out.
Gambit noticed Pietro's reaction. He saw that it was a mixture of awe, fear, annoyance, and… concern.
Dat couldn' be right, could it. Dat guy don' look like he care much 'bout anyone, Gambit thought to himself.
Magneto unknowingly answered Gambit's questions about Pietro with his next statement. "Pietro is a member of the Brotherhood. He has fought by their side and against the X-Men. He knows their capabilities quite well. Feel free to ask him any questions about them."
The meeting was officially ended at that point. Pyro started a conversation with Colossus. Sabretooth eyed Gambit mischievously. Gambit retracted his bo-staff, pocketed it and pulled out a deck of playing cards all in the same fluid movement. He also watched Pietro slyly out of the corner of his eyes. He began shuffling the cards, but stopped when Magneto turned back to add two more points.
"Kitty of the X-Men group has a romantic involvement with Avalanche, the field leader of the Brotherhood. You may be able to make use of that emotional weakness against them. Oh, and one more thing. The one called Rogue, was at one time a member of the Brotherhood, though she has since joined the X-Men. Though I'm not quite certain if she is aware of it, Nightcrawler is her brother. They do seem to have a small sibling bond, regardless of whether they know of their similar connections with Mystique."
Pietro was startled by that announcement. He hadn't known Rogue and Nightcrawler were brother and sister. He definitely didn't think Rogue knew about it.
Magneto didn't seem to notice or care about Pietro's reaction, he continued as if it had never happened, saying, "She also seems to still have concerns for her former teammates of the Brotherhood. Though she is quite focused in a battle situation, her attachments could possibly be used against her as well… Remember, all of you, your emotions are weapons in you enemy's arsenal." And with that he left.
Sabretooth trailed after him, mumbling something about the plan for taking out Wolverine. Pyro and Colossus continued their conversation as they left as well. Gambit just remained mysterious, secretive in his aloof behavior while he shuffled his playing cards. As Pietro was leaving, though, Gambit asked, in a matter-of-factly tone, "So, y' were teammate's wit' Rogue, n'est-ce pas?"
Pietro faced him with a scowl and said, "Yeah, what of it?"
Gambit continued shuffling his cards, only looking at Pietro with his sly sidelong glance, when he asked, "So y' boarded in de same house, non? Y' got ta know la belle femme real well?" When Pietro narrowed his scowl with even more suspicion on Gambit, Gambit added, "Jus' wonderin' what else we could use against her, y' know?"
Pietro held his scowl for a moment longer. His words got quicker and quicker as he spoke, "Her room was next to mine. She left pretty soon after I joined up. So-no-I-don't-really-know-her-too-well-So-stop-pestering-me-aboutitalready."
Gambit lifted his head and raised a curious brow to Pietro's rushed answer. "No need t' get all riled up, mon ami. Gambit just curious, is all."
"I'm not riled up. Why-would-I-be-riled-up? She's-just-one-of-the-X-Geeks-And-what-does-mon-ami-mean-anyway-SpeakEnglishwhydon'tyou!" Pietro spouted at him and then abruptly sped off to return to his unsuspecting teammates in the Brotherhood.
After Gambit's questions about Rogue in that first meeting alone, Pietro shouldn't have been surprised that Gambit would single Rogue out in the fight like he did. Rogue offered an incalculable gamble in a fight; one that Gambit wouldn't be able to pass up. It shouldn't have even surprised Pietro that Gambit had used his charm powers to daze her temporarily. But, it did. Mostly, it surprised him because Gambit didn't attack her as soon as he had her under his charm. Gambit just watched her in return, as though he was caught in a charm power of Rogue's own, a power that didn't exist in her. And when he finally did attack her, it was a passive attack. He'd just slipped her the charged card, and then released her from his charm in enough time to throw the card away without it harming her.
It was only reasonable that after Gambit's behavior toward Rogue during that fight Pietro wasn't surprised to find that Gambit had made the conquest of her his own personal mission. But, now that Pietro had made amends with the Brotherhood, and with Rogue and the other X-Men to an extent of sorts, Gambit's behavior towards Rogue—admit-it-he's-stalking-her—irked Pietro. When he deserted his father's side this last time, Pietro had vowed to keep his teammates (and secretly to himself, even the X-Men) out of his father's grasp to the best of his ability. It was his penance for what he'd done to them, for what Fred, and Wolverine, and—gasp—his rival Evan had gone through when they were caught during that fight his father had planned. …Especially for what Rogue had gone through. Pietro was pretty sure she suffered more than she was letting anyone know. He was pretty sure she hadn't been raped or anything like that. But he was sure she'd suffered other psychological tortures, other physical tortures. He was sure she had new demons plaguing her. Demons other than Gambit or himself, that was.
That meant he couldn't let Gambit succeed with what he had planned for Rogue.
So, there they stood that sleepless night, facing off against each other, more than a dozen feet apart on the private road that led to the Xavier Institute.
Gambit took another smooth drag of his cigarette, released it in a slow, deliberate swirl from his lips, then said, "Gambit give y' a piece o' advice, d'accord. Keep y' noise t' a minimum. Wolverine likely smelled dat Gambit was over dere so he'll be on de lookout before y' even get passed de main gates."
Gambit finished off his cigarette, dropped it to the road and extinguished it with a brisk twist of his foot. The movement was so lithe, so fluid, Pietro hardly noticed he'd done it… and Pietro saw the world as though it were in slow motion.
"Bonne nuit et bonne chance [2]."
Good night and good luck? Pietro hadn't taken up the foreign language, but it was common enough sounding words that he could guess their meaning.
Gambit turned to leave, but Pietro stopped him. Though he was pretty sure he already knew what the answer would be, Pietro asked Gambit curiously, "Why tell me that?"
Gambit's ruby on onyx eyes flared with devilish delight and he flashed a matching grin, then said, "Competition always raises de stakes o' de pinch." Then he disappeared into the grove of trees on the other side of the private road just as silently as he had arrived.
Pietro watched after him for a long while. Then he turned his attention to the gates of the Institute that were barely visible as the end of the private road. He looked there for a long while as well. Then he turned and went home.
I've got one advantage over you, Gambit, Pietro thought, methodically. She'll willingly look at me in school tomorrow. She'll talk to me without hatred in every word she says to me. Pietro smirked to himself, his mood now much more jovial than it had been when he'd arrived.
He no longer felt adrift. He now had a purpose. It was even a little bit of a noble purpose.
Plus, I know Rogue hates that Logan smokes cigars. And, since you're so fond of your cigarettes, that means there's already two points against you, Cajun.
BZZZZZ—POP! The two toaster-waffles were done.
"Mine!" Kitty hollered as she pushed her way through the crowded kitchen full of mutant teens trying to squeeze in breakfast before going off to school.
Bamf! Nightcrawler teleported beside the counter, where the toaster was, and reached for the waffles.
Kitty reached a phased hand through Nightcrawler, grabbed the waffles, phased them too, and pulled them through Nightcrawler to deposit them onto her awaiting plate.
"Ewww!" Kurt complained with a disgusted grimace. "I hate ven you do zat, Kitty!"
Kitty just giggled at him and set to eating her toasty warm waffles with lots of butter and syrup on them.
"Do it again!" exclaimed one of Jamie's multiples. Four multiples had been created because Bobby had accidentally landed on Jamie when Cannonball had blasted through Bobby's ice slide during that morning's training session.
"Ach! Another time, Jamie," Rahne said, patting the top of his head, "Ye gotta catch ye bus now, remember?"
All the Jamies sulked and stomped out of the room, heading off to catch a ride from Storm to the bus stop. They were still a vehicle or two short since the mansion had been blown up, forcing Jamie and the other students attending his school to ride the bus. Jamie ran around the corner and barreled right into Rogue.
"Ulph!"
One more Jamie appeared.
"Oops…" Jamie gulped when he looked up to see the scowl on Rogue's face. "Sorry…" One added sheepishly.
Rogue sighed. "Just watch where ya'll're goin' next time, half-pints," Rogue said as she continued past them and toward the kitchen as the Jamies went off to his destination as well.
Rogue paused outside the kitchen. She could hear all the commotion of a very crowded kitchen, and it set her on edge. She really didn't like crowds. They upped the chances of her accidentally absorbing someone.
"Bobby!" Rogue heard Kurt exclaim on the other side of the doorway. Rogue silently mouthed the rest of Kurt's likely complaint. "Stop freezing my breakfast!" It was a part of the regular routine of the Institute to say the least.
Rogue really didn't want to deal with them this morning, so she decided she'd rather skip breakfast. Right then the idea of her stomach growling until lunch was a more welcoming idea than that boisterous group. She turned to leave without the others. She didn't need to wait for a ride to school. She could always fly.
However, other people had a different opinion on the subject.
"Are you catching a ride with me, Rogue?" Scott asked just as she turned the knob on the front door. If she hadn't already known he was behind her, if he'd startled her as he had intended, she probably would've crushed the handle in her surprise.
"Naw, got mah own transportation," Rogue said without turning to face him. She pulled open the door, but he stepped closer. Rogue sighed again, and thought, He just won't let up, will he?
"Rogue, the Professor and I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be using your powers so blatantly in public," Scott said in his best 'I'm team leader so you must follow my orders' voice. Rogue didn't need to face him to know that his arms would be crossed across his chest in accompaniment to the tone of voice. He did it all the time. He did it more so, since the fight with Magneto's new team. He'd become more protective, sterner, stricter with everyone since that fateful day.
She let go and finally turned to face him. She also moved further outside as she did so, and said, "Look, Cyke. Ah'm careful, all right. Ah hover at ground level whenever anyone's around ta see meh. Ah do it all the time. Even ya'll don't notice when ah'm doin' it." Silently she added to herself, And it's a good thing, too. Ya'll have been buggin' meh enough as it is.
Scott looked her over, watched her more closely. She looked like she was standing, he thought to himself. Then he looked very closely at her feet. After a few moments, he noticed it. Sure enough, she was hovering, not standing. She mimicked standing nearly perfectly, though. He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been specifically looking for it. And even then…
But, there WERE telltale signs. They were subtle and Scott really did have to be looking specifically to notice them. The muscles in her legs weren't tensed the same way they would be if she were standing. Her knees were bent just the slightest bit more than they should be and her legs did have a certain slackness to them. The clincher, though, and the most deceptive aspect, were her feet. They were in contact with the floor, but just barely. There wasn't any pressure on her feet, they had that same certain slackness to them that her legs had.
After looking over the nuances of her mimicry, Scott returned his gaze to her face. His surprise and realization were apparent in his slightly gawking expression.
"Told ya," Rogue said and turned to leave.
Scott was taken aback by her 'in your face' attitude towards him, so he decided to bring up another grievance against her. He was team leader, after all; it was his duty to do so. He called after her, a little harsher than he'd meant to, due to his bruised ego and all, saying, "You missed this morning's training session. You have to make it up after school, so don't be late."
Rogue spun back to him, still hovering, her scowl deepening. "What for? Huh? The danger room ain't up an' runnin'. It's just the bunch of us fightin' each other on the lawn an' it's not like any of ya'll have half a chance of beatin' me now, so what's the point? Ah don't feel like being ya'll's personal battle drone for ya test your mettle against. Find some othah way ta toughen yourselves up for the next all out war against Magneto."
And with that, she tried to leave again. She got about ten feet away when he caught up to her… again. Dang it! She complained to herself.
"Are you okay, Rogue?" He asked, turning her back to him with a hand on her covered shoulder.
Rogue let him turn her toward him. This wasn't important enough, he wasn't annoying her quite enough, to purposely use the strength she'd gained from Carol against him. So, she let her power of flight absorb the force of her strength so he could turn her.
She abhorred using the powers she'd gained during her capture. Not only was the strength a bane to her existence because of how hard it still was for her to judge how much of it she exerted at a time, but it was a constant reminder to the cost that had provided her with it: Carol's death. Nearly all the things she'd gotten from Carol fell into that category of powers Rogue abhorred. Only Carol's power of flight was spared from that category. But the others weren't: the superhuman strength, the invulnerability, the immunity to poisons, the seventh sense—a sort of warning sense that hardly ever stirred, really—Guess it takes my invulnerability into account in deciding what it should warn me of—and the entirety of Carol's persona. Rogue had Carol's memories, her personality… the whole of Carol inside of Rogue's mind. And Carol wasn't alone in there.
"Really, Kate," Scott said, endearing Rogue with his nickname for her. He was hoping it would help bring her out of the shell she'd clamped even more tightly around herself since she'd come home to the Institute after her being captured and held prisoner with Logan, Evan, and the Blob. He'd known that she'd had a crush on him at one time. He'd also figured that it was mostly because he was safe. He was hooked on Jean. And though he cared for Rogue, considered her a friend and not just an object of recruitment, they both knew he didn't care for her in that way. Those feelings of his were tied up exclusively in Jean. "I want to know. I want to help if I can."
"Just leave me alone, Cyke." Don't ya'll get it? There's nothing ya'll can do, she added silently. This time she flew out of his reach, faster than he could run. She was out of sight of the mansion in a matter of seconds.
Rogue let herself get caught and pulled along in the current of students flooding through the halls on their way to their next class or to second shift lunch, where she was headed. Mostly, she was being mindless, well, trying to be at least. She was trying not to panic over all the people that brushed against her covered arms and legs. It wasn't easy.
Since she'd gained Carol's powers, though, she'd made it into a practice exercise for herself. She focused on keeping herself relaxed, loose enough so that when a student bumped into her shoulder, her shoulder actually gave, actually jerked back with the opposing force of the bump. It may sound mundane; sound like it should be simple, easy, ordinary. But, with her newfound strength and invulnerability, it wasn't ordinary for her anymore.
The first time someone bumped into her shoulder as they passed her in the hallway, that person was sent sprawling backwards, knocking over three other students like they were bowling pins, to crash down on their butts on the floor. When it happened, Rogue had tried to blend into the crowd, to become unnoticed, to avoid being associated with the odd display. Her efforts to keep people from getting too close to her, socially and physically, had backfired to a certain degree in this incident. They had learned to avoid her, and therefore, they knew exactly who Rogue was. At that moment, her singular Goth attire—a rarity for the small town school—her perpetual scowl, and her BACK-OFF attitude made her rather difficult not to be noticed.
So she practiced little things like what she was doing right then, her shoulder giving with the bump of another student, in order to help her hone her use of her strength and invulnerability since both were like her absorption powers. They were always in the ON position. And she used that practice as a way to fight off the panic of the crowd brushing against her with only a few layers of cloth between her and their possible death. At one time, her teammates, and even Rogue herself, brushed that particular statement off as a gross exaggeration. But not anymore. Not after Carol… Not after…
Rogue breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached her locker. She kept herself hugged to the wall of lockers as she waited for the hall to clear before attempting to open her locker. She didn't do this as an avoidance of their proximity to her skin. Right after her powers had manifested, it had been for that reason. But now, now it was because of that cursed superhuman strength. She'd already had too many accidents with it since she returned to school. She couldn't afford for them to witness another example of her differences from them. Scott was worried that it would be the use of her power of flight that would get her caught, but he was worrying about the wrong powers. She feared her strength and her invulnerability would get her recognized as a mutant as surely as her absorption power did in her hometown. Especially, if she were to again—
Ripped her locker door off in her hand. She huffed, angrily, and looked around to see if anyone had seen her do it. Left—nope, nobody there. Right—no, not there, either.
"Thank Gawd," she sighed.
"You're-welcome!" Pietro said in his usual speedy fashion.
She actually jumped, spun around and smacked backwards into the wall of lockers… and put a large dent in several of them with the force of her simple gesture. She really hadn't expected Pietro's voice right behind her like that. She hadn't sensed his presence at all and she should have. Plus, there hadn't been the telltale whoosh of air accompanying him either.
"Pietro!" she hollered, throwing the locker door to the floor. This time she was very careful that she didn't throw it hard enough to crack the tiles. Then she removed herself from the Rogue shaped dent in the wall of lockers.
"Ah could've killed you with that dang thing, ya know!" Rogue yelled. She really could have. When she'd spun around, she'd instinctively swung her right hand, the one holding the locker door, at the person who had startled her… at Pietro.
"No, I saw it coming," he said with his trademark 'I'm de bomb' smirk, "I'm too quick for you, Roguey."
They both looked at the crumpled mess of what was once her locker door that now lay on the floor between them. In being startled, she'd clutched both hands in her fists, including the one still holding onto the locker door. In doing so, she'd crushed the lock and the metal just surrounding the lock into what looked like a crudely forged doorknob. She'd crushed it as easily as most people would crush and empty soda can. It took no effort at all.
That was the real reason she avoided the X-Men's danger-room-free training sessions. She just didn't have enough control over her strength, yet. She didn't trust herself to pull her punches to a great enough degree. She was afraid she'd accidentally kill, not just injure, but kill a teammate with a mere shove of her fist.
She picked up her locker door and looked up at Pietro with defeat plainly scrawled on her face. She gestured to the dent in the lockers and then held her locker door up to him and asked, "How am Ah going ta explain this?"
Pietro shrugged and asked, "How many is that now?"
"Four," she answered.
"And you've only been back three weeks, now?" Pietro didn't even try to stifle his chuckle. "Jeeze, Rogue, I wouldn't even bother trying. Just toss it and give up using it at all. Not like you can't carry all your books with you, anyway."
Rogue frowned at him. She tossed the ruined locker door into the nearby trashcan. "That's not the point," she said as she loaded her books into her backpack.
He leaned his shoulder against the lockers, on the dent free side of Rogue, and cocked his head left-ways in an attempt to get her to meet his eyes. He said, "What is the point, then?"
"Ah don' know…" Rogue said as she shoved the last of her possessions into her backpack. She zipped it up, and swung it onto one shoulder. Then she turned the full weight of her emerald eyes on him and said, "Ah gotta go. Ah actually have ta eat this sludge they serve as food here. Ah skipped breakfast again."
He rested his head against the lockers in a thoughtful manner and offered, "I could run and pick something up for you, if you want…" He trailed off, caught in the weight of her weary, emerald eyes. The thought, Is this what happened to Gambit in the fight, slipped through his mind before he could stop it. The moment he realized what he was doing, he shook himself out of his daze, and straightened into his usual arrogant pose.
Before Rogue could remark on his strange behavior, he said, quickly, "Pick-a-restaurant-any-restaurant-it'll-only-take-a-minute." Then he flashed her that smirk of his, his eyes sparking like lightning, and added in a speed that was uncharacteristically slow for him, "Or less."
"No thanks," Rogue said, "Ah wanna be alone today." She turned and headed down the hall. After getting only a few feet away, she turned back, finding him where she'd left him, and said, "But thanks for the offah."
Pietro stayed and watched her move down the hall.
"What are you up to, brother dear?" Wanda asked accusingly.
He didn't bother facing her as he answered, matter-of-factly, "Nothing. Just messing with the X-Geeks… The usual."
Rogue finally turned the corner at the end of the hall so Pietro finally looked at his sister. She was glaring at him suspiciously. She knew he was lying to her and he could tell she knew that from her glare. Like everyone else, he really didn't want to provoke her anger, her wrath… sort of like how it was with Rogue, actually. They both had dangerous tempers. And now, with Rogue's added powers, her wrath was deadly for more than just the threat of her unclothed touch. Inciting Rogue's anger was on a par with inciting Wanda's, though with drastically less random possible mediums of torture. With Wanda's powers, it was impossible to predict what she'd make happen. At least with Rogue's powers, there was a modicum of a defined list of things she could physically do in retaliation. Of course, he, like the other X-Men and Brotherhood members, didn't realize the list was longer than she'd let them in on. But, even then, the list was still shorter than Wanda's was.
"Well?" Wanda asked when he hadn't yet responded truthfully. She had continued to glare at him, too.
"A-duel-of-honor," he said and smirked.
She laughed right in his face and said, "You don't know the meaning of the word." And then she left him there, left him, stunned, to watch her move away from him… much in the same way Rogue had just done. They both took a part of him with them.
The breeze was picking up. She could smell the rain on the breeze. A storm was heading their way. It was still a ways off, though.
She used to love storms. She used to find them exciting, like a roller coaster was exciting. A powerful storm used to be a rush. And when it was bad enough to knock out a transformer and force everyone to light candles, well, that was the best. There was a sense of danger, a taste of being in the middle of something that was completely out of her control. It was a reminder of nature's passionate fury, and how small she really was in the scheme of things. A lot of that mystique was lost upon meeting Storm. But for Rogue, most of it was lost when she learned what it was like to lose control of your own body. To lose the sense of touch to a twist of fate that nature placed inside her. Panicky fear of touch had replaced that exciting fear of the storm. But, unlike her fear of touch, the fear of the storm wasn't constant. It's randomness and its infrequent occurrence had permitted the fear to be exciting, anticipatory, and even fun. A nonstop, never-ending, scarier-than-all-get-out storm would never have been fun… just like the power that first announced her mutant status.
Wonder if Storm's gonna make it pass by us or not? Rogue wondered offhandedly as she floated lazily along the road. She was on her way home from school. She had turned down Scott's offer of a ride home and instead opted to fly again. Flying still amazed her. She didn't think she would ever get over it, that it would ever be anything less than heavenly.
May as well get as much of heaven while ah can. After killing ta get these powers, it's not likely ah'm headin' that direction when ah die.
She pushed the depressing thoughts out of her head and focused on the feeling of flying, even if it was low to the ground and more like slowly floating forward, like drifting in the Mississippi River when there hadn't been a storm in weeks. Just as she had done all those times she had gone swimming in the that trudging flow back in Caldecott when she was a kid, she spread her hands out, splaying her fingers apart, and felt the currents quicken against her fingers. The sensation of the breeze, what she could feel of it—was very similar to how the river had felt when she'd done that. It was tranquil and lucid.
She stopped short, eyes still closed, and cocked her head to the side. She looked into the grove of trees to her right, and called out, "C'mon out, Speedy. Ah know ya there." She waited, but he still didn't reveal himself. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled with impatience. "Ah don't got all day, Pietro. Cyke'll lay inta me if ah'm late."
A rustle in the trees to her right, exactly where she had known he was, preceded the familiar whoosh, which preceded the arrival of Pietro.
"You'regettingbetter-at-this," he said, slowing down with each word, "How-do-you do it?"
She shrugged, non-committing, and asked, "Why do ya'll keep following me anyway?"
He shrugged too and said, "It's fun to mess with you."
Rogue scowled at him, but she started floating forward again, allowing him to walk along side her. He matched her slightly faster than walking speed with ease. They stayed like that for a while, her floating along, him walking beside her, both of them looking ahead to where they were going.
Eventually, Rogue returned to what she had been doing before she had caught Pietro. She closed her eyes, held her hand out to her sides, splayed her fingers wide, and just savored the sensation of the breeze brushing between her gloved hands. He glanced over at her, then forward again.
"I do something like that sometimes," he said in that uncharacteristically slow speed again. It was almost like he was talking to himself more than he was talking to her. "When I'm running and there's nobody around for miles. I'll do it. I'll go as fast as I can, and hold my arms out, close my eyes, and pretend I'm flying."
"Mmm-hmm…" she said. It was a sigh of pleasant understanding.
He glanced at her gloved hands and said, "You could take them off you know. It'll be easier to feel the air that way. I'll stay out of reach if you're…" --afraid, no don't say afraid-- "…if you'd prefer." That's a better word. 'Prefer.' It's a neutral word.
"Wouldn't make much of a difference."
Okay, wasn't expecting that answer. "Why?"
"Why ya wanna know?"
He shrugged. Then he realized she couldn't see it because her eyes were still closed, so he said, "Just curious, I guess."
"Just curious, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Then Ah'll tell ya," she said and opened her eyes, though she didn't look at him, yet. "Ah'm tired of people askin' me how Ah am an' tellin' me how they're so worried 'bout me," she drawled sarcastically.
Pietro almost told her he was worried about her, but he didn't. She'd basically just given him a free warning, and he knew he couldn't pass it up. She wouldn't give him another one.
She held her hands in front of her, twisted them and wiggled her fingers around, all the while eyeing them as though she were studying them, or seeing them for the first time.
"Mah invulnerability," she said as if that would explain everything.
"How so?" He asked, genuinely curious, now. How would something that prevents you from being wounded make a difference in how the air feels against your bare skin?
"It's like this," she said, "Physical pain an' pleasure are only as strong as the thing that caused the feeling."
Okay,IdidNOTjustBLUSHwhenshesaidPLEASURE! …I'm-starting-to-take-this-whole-competition-thing-way-too-seriously… I-hope-she-didn't-notice.
"For example," she said loudly, drawing his attention back to her, "Say a bullet hits me in the chest an' it just bounces off. No harm done. Well, it feels just like that. No harm done. Get it?"
"I think so," he said. After a moment, he asked, "But what about a paper cut?"
"Hmm?"
"Paper cuts hurt more than a lot of worse injuries," he said. "So, I'm just wondering how that relates."
She stopped, hovered, and looked at him and said, "Good question. Ah don't rightly know, though. Ah haven't had a paper cut since Ah got the invulnerability. Ah can't get one at all now." She started floating forward again. "Ah guess it would feel the same as the bullet, since they would do about the same amount of damage."
"Have-you-been-hit-by-a-bullet?!" He asked, his anxiety apparent in his voice and the speed in which he said it, as he halted her with a hand on her clothed arm.
"No," she said in between peels of laughter.
He frowned at her. "What's so funny?"
"You," she said, still laughing. "You looked so… so… Gawd, nobody will believe this… The great an' mighty Quicksilver actually looked like he cared 'bout somebody othah than himself!"
"So-what-if-I-am?" He spat defensively.
Rogue's laughter was dwindling. "Well, come on, Speedy… Ah mean… it's you."
"Thanks a lot, Rogue," he said and made to take off. But, he was jerked to a stop by Rogue's grasp on his shoulders. His head jolted from the abrupt stop her incredible strength caused. He rubbed his neck and squawked, "Jeeze-Rogue-you-don't-have-to-give-me-whip-lash!"
That, of course, sent Rogue into another bout of laughter. He spun another glare at her and she covered her mouth to suppress her laughter. "Ah'm sorry… really, Speedy, Ah apologize… ya forgive me?"
He mock gasped and mimicked her southern drawl, badly, when he said, "Oh mah Gawd! The Rogue, The Wicked Witch of Bayville herself, actually laughed—"
"Ha-ha, very funny, Ah get your point…"
"—AND apologahzed—"
"Ya'll can stop any time, now," she kept talking as he talked, trying to get him to stop mimicking her accent.
"—Hell musta—"
Finally, Rogue slapped him lightly, playfully on the arm…
"—frozen ovah—OW," he yelped, rubbing his arm where she slapped him.
…Well, ah thought it was lightly…
He continued to rub his arm as he added a mock pout to his act.
"Stop it, Ah didn't hit ya that hard," she said as she started floating toward the Institute once more. Gawd, Ah hope ah didn't.
He joined her, matching her speed just as he did before, saying, "How would you know, you're invulnerable, remember?"
"Don't forget 'Wicked Witch of Bayville,'" she said. It was a threat. It was playful, though.
"Who-would-ever-say-such-a-thing-not-me-that's-for-sure-I-value-my-life."
"Oh, ah guess ya'll musta been talkin' about your sistah, huh?"
"Wanda? No, she's not a witch she's a bit—" Pietro started to say, but Rogue's gloved hand covering his mouth cut him off.
"Shh," Rogue said, mocking fright as she peered cautiously from side to side, "She might hear ya."
Pietro heard what Rogue was saying, but he didn't hear her. The moment her gloved hand made contact with his lips, that's all he was aware of anymore. It was like a jolt of electricity started at that point of contact and spread throughout all of him. He was very, very tempted to plant a light kiss, just a mere peck, on her glove where it rested against his lips.
But he didn't.
He gave it a sloppy lick instead.
"Yyllck!" she gasped as she yanked her hand away, laughing, "Ya slobbered me!" She wiped her wet glove on her pants.
He rubbed his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He could still taste the material; still feel its texture on his tongue. And he kind of liked it. He looked over at her, drinking her in with his gaze, as he savored the taste of her glove, the feel of her glove still on his tongue and lips.
And then he did the worst thing he could do right at that moment. He knew he shouldn't have said it. He knew it would piss her off. He knew it was too much, too fast, but he did it anyway. He is the speed demon, after all.
"I am worried about you, Rogue."
"What?!"
"I-am-we-all-are-you-won't-talk-aboutwhathappened—"
"Shut. Up."
"—youhardlytalktoanyone—"
"Ah can't believe it! Ah'm even gettin' it from ya'll now, too"
"—I-bet-this-was-the-longest-you've-talked-to-anyone-without-biting-their-head-off—"
"Just leave me alone!" She made to fly off, but Pietro grabbed her arm and held on with all his strength. Still, she almost jerked his arms out of their sockets. He knew she could have. Even as angry as she was, she was still trying to be careful not to hurt him. He took that as a good sign.
"Have-you-even-told-Scott-or-the-Professor-about-Gambit-always-bugging-you?"
"Let. Go." It was an order. She gave his arm another jerk, but he held tight, though his reach was stretched so much that his toes barely kept contact with the ground.
"Why-not?-He's-dangerous-Hestillworksfor—"
"Fahne, have it your way," she said and then launched into the sky, taking him with her. They were flying before he realized it. His arguments were ended when he noticed the view of Bayville below them. He didn't get much of a chance to appreciate it though, because he was suddenly dropped into a lake.
It took a moment before he realized he was falling; to realize that she'd actually dropped him. Falling felt a lot like the flying had. "OhhhhhhhhNoooooooo!" he yelled the whole way down. Thirty feet below, he splashed into the thankfully, deep lake.
Almost an hour later, a partially speed-dried Pietro stomped into the Brotherhood house and stomped—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—not ran, straight past the others, who were hanging out in the living room, and straight for his room.
Todd took one look at him, the state of his usually perfect hair and clothes, and hopped along behind him. Lance and Tabitha quickly joined them. It was easy to see where he'd gone. There were soggy footprints marking his trail.
"What happened to you, yo?" Todd asked as he hopped up the stairs behind Pietro. He didn't answer.
"Holy shit!" Tabitha giggled when she saw the mud patches and the grass and other lake vegetation clumped to his clothes and his hair.
"I thought you were gonna hang out with Rogue?" Lance asked on top of Tabitha's exuberant cursing. They were just reaching the top of the stairs.
"What she'd do, yo, drop you in a lake or something?" That was Todd, of course, sticking his foot in his mouth.
Pietro spun around and launched daggers from his gaze at the three that were following him. He spun back around just as suddenly and continued stomping to his room. SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH.
Of course he had to pass Wanda's room to reach his own. Of course she had to be standing in her open doorway grinning a wicked 'thought so' smirk at him.
"Duel of honor, huh?" She asked rhetorically. "Guessin' you lost."
Hpassed by her without acknowledging her presence.
She continued despite his ignoring her, calling down the hall after him, "This prove you haven't got any?!"
FWAP…CRINKLE…SHHHHHH…FWAP—CRINKLE—SHHHHHH…FWAP—CRINKLE—SHHHHHH…
The wind was whipping the black tarp that was tacked over the largest hole in Rogue and Kitty's room. FWAP—CRINKLE—SHHHHHH…FWAP—CRINKLE—SHH—FWIP-FWIP-FWIP-FWIP… A corner of the black tarp had just torn free... FWIP-FWIP-FWIP-FWIP-FWIP…
Dis is becomin' a habit.
Remy paused to see if the change in sound woke Kitty and Rogue. He stretched out his spatial sense, his kinesthetic sense, and felt for any extraneous movement in Kitty and Rogue's room, to see if they were stirring awake. He used it to feel for any change in their heat levels. It was like mental fingers slipping out from him, reaching through walls, floors, ceilings, and so on, and feeling the temperature differences of objects and the motion of objects those sort-of-mental-fingers came into contact with. This spatial sense, this kinesthetic sense, was an offset of his charging power. It was the link between his other two powers, his charging power and his charm power, and was the only power that nobody knew about. He was a thief at heart, a solitary scoundrel, and he just couldn't let go of the need to keep at least a few cards up his sleeve.
Dis be what? T'ree times dis week.
Satisfied that they had not stirred, he pocketed his knife. He was on the half-collapsed balcony around the corner from the larger-than-man-sized hole that was covered by the black tarp he had just cut loose. Deftly, he reached a hand around the corner, hooked his hand on the edge of the hole, and with catlike agility and grace he swung around and inside the girls' room. He did it without disturbing the fwip-fwip-fwipping of the tarp, without even permitting a sound from his feet landing on the carpet. He did it without giving away he was even there. He was a master thief, a professional thief before signing on under Magneto, so it wasn't even a chore to have slipped in unnoticed as he did.
Dis becomin' a real bad habit.
He slunk into the shadows of the room. He took up a post that gave him quick access to the door to the hall and to the hole in the wall he had entered. He had ensured a quick escape in case the need for one arose. His post also fulfilled his actual purpose for sneaking into the room. It gave him a complete view of the sleeping Rogue. Seeing her, being near her, that was the objective of this particular pinch this night. The end goal was to possess her heart. It was a pinch that was a challenge worthy of his skills.
Dieu! She be l'ange noir… Tu es l'ange, chere… Mon ange?
He stayed there for nearly an hour, just watching her, content in that action alone. He was sure she didn't know of his presence, though he was tempted more than once to let her know he was there. He wanted to lace his fingers through her hair. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to flutter her face with butterfly kisses and then her lips with… He stopped there. He couldn't do that. Nobody could. She was untouchable. And that only enticed him more. It upped the challenge she proposed to him. It also drew his sympathy, drew his heart toward her.
Stop t'inking like dat, Remy. Never again, not for y'. Not since Bella Donna. He chided himself. Love just ain't in de cards for y'. He added sadly, resolutely. He didn't know it, couldn't have known it, but the resolution was closely akin to what Rogue had often chanted to herself. Get outta here an' stick t' de toys, de femmes dat come an' go, He instructed himself.
He didn't obey.
He didn't move from his post.
C'mon Remy, go! She don't want not'ing t' do wit' y'. Why would she? You remind her of dat fight wit' Mags. De fight dat got her caught by Trask. De fight dat made her suffer in dat mad man's hands. So just go an' forget y' ever saw her. Forget about her. Forget about her. Forget about her…
You'll have t' fight her de next time Mags says so…
You cant' be worrying about her den. You have t' do y' job… So go!
He still didn't move.
He sighed in defeat and settled in to just watch some more and be content with that much.
He was wrong in thinking that she didn't notice him. She did. One of her new powers plucked out his presence and plopped it into her awareness. She kept her eyes closed. She tried to keep her breathing steady. She tried to calm her pounding heart. It beat like hummingbird wings in her chest. It drummed in her ears so loudly she swore he had to hear it. He terrified her. Terrified her!
Why is he here? What does he want? Are the others with him? Is this anothah attack? Will Ah be captured again? Will Ah have to fight him? Punch him? Touch him? Will he touch me? Why is he just standing there? Is he watching me? Will he come near me? Does he want ta? Gawd, just go away, go away, go away. Just let me be alone. Let me be alone… Ah mean, leave me alone…
He felt her temperature rising with his spatial sense, which he had attuned to her as he watched her. If it had to be all the touch he could get from her, he'd take it. He kicked himself for craving even that much, kicked himself for indulging in it. But he still did it… it and more. Along with touching her with his spatial sense he touched her with his empathy, his charm power. At first he felt her troubled sleep, her swirling emotions from fitful dreams… or nightmares. But then it changed and he could feel the fear in her. And it was an immediate fear, different from dream fear. He felt her fear and something else… something else more…
Could it be? Could she? Naw, Remy, y' don't have dat kind of luck.
But he latched onto that something else he felt. He latched onto it and pocketed it like he did with all his stolen treasures. He let it make him want more than just to watch her with his eyes and to feel her with his empathy and his spatial sense. He let it provoke him. He considered stepping out of the shadows, moving closer to her just to feel how she would react…
Oh Gawd, is he comin' closer? Why doesn't he just bothah Kitty and leave me be… Sorry Kitty… Just stay away… Ah don't wanna have ta hurt ya… Ah'm tired of hurtin' people…
Then he heard footsteps in the hall outside the door. The footsteps stopped suddenly and moved just outside the door to Kitty and Rogue's bedroom. The footsteps paused there for a long while as the owner of those footsteps presumably listened intently for sounds from inside.
Snikt! Claws popped, but Remy didn't hear them. Rogue knew what had happened and she winced.
Then the protector out in the hallway sniffed… It was loud enough for Remy and Rogue to hear. It startled Remy, angered him. It was ending his ecstasy.
Thank Gawd, Wolvie… Ya'll scare him off. Ah know ya will… Just don't come bustin' in here. Don't make me get up and acknowledge him… that he was watchin' me… Just scare him off.
Remy slunk silently across the room, crossing the gulf between him and her in a moment. Rogue caught her breath and Remy swore he heard it, but then Wolverine huffed angrily outside the door, preparing to burst in. Remy pawned off her sharp intake of breath as being a noise made by the person outside, the person ending his perfect evening. He reached a hand slowly toward her, to brush a stray snow-white hair from her brow…
The door burst open and Kitty snapped awake, jumping up in terror and surprise. Rogue remained frozen, hands clutched into fists under her heavy wool blanket, fearing that HE was still near her. Her panicked state was not lost on Wolverine as he surveyed the room that only contained the two people it was supposed to. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, the Ragin' Cajun, was no longer there. Like a thief in the night, he had disappeared, out the way he had entered, silently and swiftly, and with the same ache in his chest.
When Wolverine saw that Rogue wasn't stirring, that she was still pretending to sleep, he considered trying to talk to her about the uninvited visitor. Kitty, however, spoke first.
"What's wrong? What's happening? Why'd you, like, burst in here?" Kitty spat out as quickly as she could draw breath.
"Thought I heard something," Logan said gruffly.
When sounds of a fight didn't erupt in the room, but instead she heard the concerned, and still angry voice of Wolverine fill the silence that followed Kitty's exclamations, Rogue sat up, feigning grogginess like she'd just woken up. She carefully clutched the blanket in her lap, hands balled beneath the heavy wool blanket. Wolverine eyed her cautiously. He wasn't sure what to make of her faked waking from sleep. Was she trying to hide this from him, too? He knew she knew the intruder was in there with her and Kitty. He'd heard Rogue's racing heart beat. He'd heard her quickened breathing. He'd smelled her fear. He'd smelled her excitement. He'd smelled her anxiousness. He'd also smelled her lie; her pretending to just then be waking. He almost called her on it, when Kitty stopped him a second time by speaking.
"Rogue was like probably having like a nightmare," Kitty said as she glanced sympathetically at Rogue. "She's been having them like since she got back."
Wolverine raised a curious and concerned brow at Rogue. It was a question for her.
She glared at Kitty, and spat, "Ah was not!"
He smelled the anger rise in her then… and then something else… something much more disturbing. He stalked toward Rogue, to seek out the truth of that scent when she snapped her head around to face him. The feral look in her eyes actually stopped him. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds, both refusing to relent, when Kitty, once again broke the tension.
"What's going on, you guys?" Kitty asked with sincere curiosity and bewilderment.
Rogue and Logan held the challenging stare for a moment longer, when Rogue finally answered, "Nothin', Kitty. Ya'll were right. Ah just had a bad dream, is all." She flopped angrily back against her pillows. Nobody noticed that she kept her hands balled in her lap beneath the heavy wool blanket.
Wolverine eyed her with caution, curiosity and concern for a moment longer. Then he said, "Ya sure yer okay?" He addressed the question to both Rogue and Kitty, but he really meant it for Rogue. Kitty, he already was sure was fine. Rogue was the one with the apparent stalker and some other problems, all of which she was trying to keep secret from the rest of the X-Men.
"Fine," Kitty said, her tone reflecting the attitude of 'duh, isn't it obvious.'
"Ah'm fahne," Rogue spat at him, "Now could ya get outta here so Ah can get back ta sleep. I have ta go ta school tomorrow, ya know."
Face it, Bub, yer not gonna get anything outta her… Not like this, anyway, Wolverine thought. He'd leave her for now, but he was determined to find a way to get it all out of her… Somehow.
When he didn't leave right away, Rogue huffed, and whipped the blanket up to cover her shoulders and part of her face. Kitty settled back under her covers in a less violent manner. Logan looked from Kitty's more peaceful form to Rogue's tense form. He didn't see the faint speckles of blood on the heavy wool blanket where it was taut around Rogue's balled fists. The blood was the disturbing scent he'd caught on her. There wasn't much blood, he could smell that; there was only a little more than she'd get from a few razor cuts while shaving her legs, so he knew it wasn't anything serious, anything life threatening. What he didn't know was that the cause for the blood was the thing she most wanted to hide from him.
Finally, Wolverine spun on his heels and left, closing the door behind him. Might as well search the grounds for him, he grumbled to himself as he headed outside. He sure got outta there pretty quick. Means he's good. But, I'm the best there is at what I do.
Wolverine had failed to notice the bone claw that had poked through the heavy wool blanket and punctured Rogue's pillow. It was one of six that Rogue now possessed… Just like Wolverine did… Only his were laced with adamantium like the rest of his skeleton.
None of them, not even Rogue, had noticed the playing card that was neatly tucked under Rogue's pillow.
Footnotes:
[1] English translations for all that French of Gambit's are as follows:
N'est-ce pas = isn't it
Toujours = always
D'accord = okay
Bonne nuit et bonne chance = Good night and good luck
Dieu! She be l'ange noir = Lord! She be a dark angel.
Tu es l'ange = You are an angel
Mon ange? = My angel?
TIME LINE
- 14 days (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).
0 days: DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured.
3 days: RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.
42 days (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).
56 days (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.
70 days (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!
72 days (10 weeks and 2 days: CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.
84 days (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.
85 days (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.
87 days (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine.
Author's Notes: So, have you noticed how I've conveniently avoided using words like "WALK" and "RUN" when it comes to Rogue? Hmm… I wonder why? Is there something still wrong with her legs? But, how could that be? She's apparently got Wolvie's bone claws, shouldn't she have his healing power? And for that matter, how could she have his mutations permanently without having killed him like it killed Carol Danvers? You'll just have to wait and see…
Thank you for reading and reviewing.