Callous
Chapter 04 – Friend
Rogue was staring at the front of the mansion. She'd skipped school and had the whole mansion all to herself for once. It surprised her that Evan, Bobby, Jubilee, or Ray had skipped that day. Another first. None of the adults were even there. Storm was out running some mundane errands until the school day ended. Xavier, McCoy, and Wolverine were off at a first meeting with a certain Dr. Moira McTaggert that had frequented the news over the last week. She spoke of her research in genetics in an honestly neutral tone. She distinguished mutants and humans in two ways that had caught the world's attention in a not too pleasant way for her: mutated humans vs. non-mutated humans, and evolved humans vs. non-evolved humans. It was the evolved termination that had been the upset. People equated being evolved with being civilized so many took great offense that Dr. McTaggert's descriptions tagged the freaks of the world as being more evolved. Dr. McTaggert was taking the bad press over her cataloguing titles in stride. She didn't seem to care less about what people thought about her as long as they acknowledged her research. It was this perspective that had attracted Xavier's attention more so than her actual research. Though, in the weeks that were to follow, McTaggert's research would both intrigue and impress him all the more.
Rogue had chuckled to herself when she saw the report on the eleven o'clock news the previous night. Xavier had raised a brow in curiosity. Then he'd taken Wolverine, McCoy and Storm with him to have a private meeting. Rogue had listened in. She made her decision to skip school and perform her little surprise for the X-Men when she had heard Xavier say that he, McCoy and Wolverine would be leaving that morning to meet McTaggert while Storm would stay behind to chaperone the students still at the mansion. Rogue took the opportunity to earn some brownie points with everyone in the mansion by spending the day working on the mansion's reconstruction, since she'd be safely alone while doing it. She hoped this would help get everyone off her back and just leave her be so that she could get on with her life instead of always being reminded that she had suffered at the hands of Trask's security officers and doctors.
How can Ah resolve mahself ta mah situation with them like actin' like this? Every time they try ta console me, it only hurts more. Only makes me wish Ah could let them console me without being afraid Ah'd accidentally hurt them… or kill them.
But it was more than that. She did things like this… Friendly things like sticking up for Kurt against that bully… Or boosting Fred's hurt feelings when Jean had turned him down… Or shoving an X-Men member out of the way of the beam of Forge's invention while she was still a member of the Brotherhood [1]. What team they were on didn't matter. The people mattered. The individuals mattered. She cared about them. They were all her friends.
Not friends… acquaintances. They acknowledge that Ah exist and Ah acknowledge that they exist. That's all.
Rogue looked over the half-repaired mansion. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for her task, and smiled. "That's all," she lied aloud.
She felt a tickle in her senses, in that place some people called intuition or instinct. Carol had called it her seventh sense. Rogue's evolution, her advanced civility—to mince McTaggert's and the general populace's theories—had fused the ability into her own DNA. It warned her of someone's approach. Wolverine's heightened senses told her who that someone was. Another power told her more… things she wanted to find out the normal way… by talking.
"Didn't ya learn ya lesson the other day?" Rogue said in time with the familiar whoosh of air.
"I'm here for purely selfish reasons, Roguey," Pietro said smirking as he stepped up beside her and looked to where she was looking.
"Ya didn't come ta check up on me when ya saw Ah wasn't in class?"
"Not at all. Jealous actually." He flashed her his 'I'm de bomb' grin in challenge.
"Of what?" Rogue said, hoping that he didn't catch on to her anxiety at his question. She could feel the card she'd found under her pillow that morning (when Kitty bullied her into changing her sheets) like a pulse in the back pocket of her black jeans. No bigger than an ordinary playing card, it felt large and swollen and obvious to her. How could Pietro not see it? The thought of it burned its presence into her, hot and immediate imaginings of HIS hand in its place.
"Figured you'd have to be having more fun than I was," Pietro answer her.
Rogue sighed in relief. At least that's how Pietro took it. That made him scowl. But he covered it quickly with his usual smirk… until it returned with Rogue's next question.
"Your sistah again?" She asked.
"Yeah… and the others still." Pietro stabbed the ground with his foot and looked to the sky when Rogue turned the weight of her penetrating emerald orbs on him in curiosity… and concern? "They were all laughs when I came back all soggy, but since then…"
"They don't trust ya around me…" she trailed off, like he had, and looked up to the mansion again.
Pietro looked over at her, now that she wasn't facing him, and just watched the white tendrils of hair wisp around her head. They were vying to diffuse into the others but the effort revealed them in stark contrast all the more. When the turning of Rogue's head nearly brought his bare hand into contact with her deadly skin he noticed that he had been stroking the lengths of those desperate streaks. He jerked his hand back and looked away to hide the blush…
I'm-not-blushing-I'm-not-I'm-not-I'm-not!
He peaked at her and caught her there; ice embracing emeralds.
Damnit!-I-want-more-I-do… I do.
They held each other like that, with their gazes, for seconds, each in a half-hidden view that clutched the other from the corners of yearning masked inside a callous veneer. It was heaven for an eternity when a second was forever to the demon of speed. It was rigid and probing and gaping. It was a vulnerable caress within a deniable perspective, and too intimately revealing their abrasive longings. They could chance no more without risks of unjust proportion. Thus, they held each other with their eyes while pretending that they weren't.
Rogue broke it. Long ago she'd realized that it was her responsibility. It was always left to her to stop the intimacy. Always.
She moved toward the mansion calling back, "Can't promise it'll be fun, but long as your here, ya gonna help."
Pietro was more than happy to do so.
"Aye, 'tis a grand risk ye taeking by meetin' with me, Professor…Xavier, isn't it?" A grin broadened Dr. McTaggert's rosy cheeks when she saw Xavier's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Nay, I didnae see the incident on the news, Professor, but ach, I did hear about it… and about ye school for the gifted. There haeve been rumors circulatin' about it in the research world. Frankly, I'm surprised yer still open after that incident, though." She pushed her glasses up on her nose and narrowed her gaze at him when she continued, "That's a right tolerant town ye live in." She punctuated it with a challenging grin. A friendly challenging grin.
Logan huffed and Xavier raised a passive hand to keep him at bay.
"Not as tolerant as we would have liked, I'm afraid to say," responded Xavier. Then he offered her a truly amused smile when he added, "But something tells me that you already knew that." He watched her form a conspiring smile before he succumbed that she wouldn't give up any information freely, and said, "Rumors… I see… Quid pro quo?"
She moved around to the front of her desk, sat on it and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Aye, Professor, there nae too many evolved humans jumping up tae help us geneticists." She smiled. This is going to be fun.
Xavier couldn't stop Logan from getting by him that time. "No go, lady. No way we're gonna let ya dissect the kids."
"Surely, you jest," McCoy said. He too had undergone experiments while imprisoned. He had no desire to start that up again. Even if they were less intrusive, less volatile.
Xavier watched Moira's response carefully. She sighed, thankful. She'd been testing his priorities: Revenge (or justice, as he would've labeled it) versus Protection of his students. He'd answered correctly. THEY had answered correctly. "Why are ye here, Professor, McCoy, Logan?" She didn't back away from Logan at all. "I'm strictly intae research, naething more. I do nae have political clout and I have e'en less political interests. I do nae want ta be part of yer crusade."
"But others do," Xavier stately simply as he waved Logan back from Dr. McTaggert.
McTaggert sighed again, but this time there was defeat in it. "Aye… others do. And worse."
"You've seen the research involving some of my students?"
"Aye."
"Anything been published?"
"Nae publicly, but it's there, it's available ta a select few."
"Scientists and doctors at the forefront of the field."
"Aye."
"Like you."
"Aye."
"I need those files, Dr. McTaggert. I need to protect my students."
Her head snapped up at that. "And I need research. Personally, I do nae care one wit about what those twits on the telly think about me. But professionally, it matters. So, quid pro quo."
"A trade." It was a question, though, really. And it was weary.
"Aye, a trade."
She watched Xavier and Logan's nonverbal, but unmistakable response. They didn't like what she was proposing. They weren't about to offer the students up to her, despite her public appearance, after what some of the students had suffered under Trask's authority. They needed a boon, something to show her good will, that she was trustworthy, and most importantly, that the trade she could offer would be worth it. She knew exactly what to give them.
"New Orleans. Jean-Luc LeBeau. Use a thief tae catch a thief," she said. She almost laughed at their shocked expressions. That definitely wasn't what they were expecting… and she knew it. She moved back behind her desk and smiled once more. Very fun indeed.
"You recommending a thief to us?" McCoy asked. He was clearly taken aback.
She nodded as she pulled out a card and handed it to Xavier. "Show this and he'll see ye."
Xavier looked over the card. It was an ordinary business card with all the necessary information needed to contact her. On the back was the name 'Jean-Luc LeBeau.' Below the name were the initials 'NOTG' and below that two more words, 'Antiquary Propriety.'
Rogue looked over at Pietro struggling with the brick and mortar… and laughed. A good hearty belly laugh that wracked her body and sent tears spilling down her eyes. They'd been at it for an hour, and all Pietro had accomplished was to prove how little talent he had in the building arts. Pietro's only response to Rogue's outburst was an honestly confused expression. He had no clue.
Rogue laughed harder, but managed to stammer in between gasps for air, "Good thing you're a mutant terrorist, ya'll would nevah make it in construction."
Pietro looked at the mess he was making with the mortar. Sure the bricks weren't completely even. Sure the mortar spilled down the wall in chunky globs. But I work quickly. That has to count for something.
"Pietro, sugah," she said, pointing to the wall he had been repairing. Not one row of bricks lined up with the row below it. "Ah don't know whether they'd want ta thank me or strangle me for this."
"It'll hold," Pietro said, re-examining his work. It really is pitiful, actually. He chuckled.
"It's bad," Rogue said.
"But what choice do you have. You want it done today, to surprise them, right?"
Rogue stopped laughing then. It wasn't abrupt. It dwindled out as she looked over the amount of work that the mansion still required. "Ah may be in ovah mah head with this one. Ah'll just have ta get by on what Ah can get finished today."
"Too bad you don't have my speed," Pietro said, grinning mischievously. All-it-would-take-is-one-kiss… I-mean-touch… one-touch… handtohand.
"Don't even think it, speedy," Rogue glared.
He shrugged, hiding his blush with a nod at his poor craftsmanship with the brick and mortar, then said, "Or that I don't have your expertise."
Rogue gave him a questioning glance. Does he know? Why would he say that if he didn't know?
He tossed a glance over to the bucket of nails and the hammer. "Guess I'll have to stick to that."
Rogue grinned broadly. Pietro noticed how her eyes sparkled when she smiled. It lit up her whole face. He wished he could make it last forever. Then he thought of something else. "I can paint too," he said and nearly beamed when she brightened even more.
"Hey, Evan," Fred Dukes, the Blob, said sheepishly when he reached the lunch table where some of the X-Men were congregated. "Could you give this to Rogue… I, uh, made it for her in wood shop… to say thanks, you know… I wanted to give it to her myself, but she's not here [2]." He held a Hope Chest in his beefy hands. It looked small compared to him, but it was a full-fledged Hope Chest.
Evan began, "I don't think I can carry that, man, but—"
"What do you mean she's not here?" Scott said cutting off Evan.
Fred looked like a deer in headlights when he said, "I looked for her, you know, to give it to her, but all her teachers said she wasn't here today." A new thought formed, a scarier thought, and he asked, "She's okay, isn't she? Nothing happened to her, right?"
Scott was about to throw a fit until he heard that last part. Then he became worried. Rogue really wasn't doing all that great since she got back. What if something did happen? The Professor and Jean had been worried about the psyches possibly lingering in her head. That Carol woman, especially. Maybe something did happen.
~"Jean, can you locate Rogue anywhere?"~
Jean was reading a passage of Keats aloud in her English class. She snapped up from the text, surprised by Scott's voice in her head via the close rapport that had been developing between them over the last few months. She quickly finished the passage then sat down.
~"No, Scott. But, I haven't been able to sense much of anything from her most of the time. The Professor either. Why do you ask?"~
~"She hasn't been to any of her classes today."~
~"You think something happened?"~
~"I don't know. Maybe she's just skipping."~
~"That's probably it. Crowds have been getting to her lately. She probably just went off to be by herself."~
~"I knew something was up when she rode with us this morning. But, I brushed it off. Thought I was being paranoid."~
~"I'll get a pass and meet you in five minutes. Don't go off before I get there. Want me to contact the others?"~
~"No. Kurt and Kitty are here with me. Blob, too—don't ask. Meet us here then we'll look for her together."~
~"Okay, Scott. And don't worry. We'll find her."~
"What does Jean say," Kitty asked when Scott turned to them. Kurt and Evan waited expectantly for Scott's answer.
"She can't find her," Scott said.
"I'll check the bathrooms," Kitty offered as she turned to head off. Scott's voice stopped her.
"Wait for Jean before we split up," Scott said.
A few minutes later, Jean arrived. They did split up then. Jean and Kitty checked the locker rooms and the bathrooms. Kurt checked the art room and music room. Evan went out to the tree she always sat under. Fred went with Scott to the Institute. Scott figured they could kill two birds with one stone that way, search for Rogue and bring the Hope Chest that only Blob and Rogue, herself, could carry easily.
Pietro was dangling dangerously off the side of the third story. He was hammering, of course… since all he could do was hammer and paint, when he slipped. Rogue caught him in an instant. But the speed she'd flown to reach him made it impossible for her to stop quickly enough. They both slammed into the wall. Rogue turned them just in time so that she, invulnerable as she was, would take the brunt of the impact. She winced when she felt the wall crumble under the force of their collision. One more thing we don't have enough time to fix.
She held onto to him tightly, being very careful not to crush him with her strength. Pietro wasn't even tense in her arms. He tilted his head back to face her, his cheek nearly pressed under her chin. He felt her breath hitch at their closeness.
He whispered, "See, I always knew you wanted me."
She nearly dropped him in response. He did tense then. A vision of plummeting into the lake slapped him.
Huffing indignantly, she lowered him, letting the loosed bricks tumble down with them. Thud, thud, thud, thud… They hit the grass harder than Pietro did, when she dropped him, five feet off the ground. She wasn't punishing him. She'd snagged her jeans on a protruding nail, and didn't want to chance taking down the rest of the wall with the force of carelessly jerking off it. Pietro looked up from his unceremonious landing, confused and pride a little wounded… that is, until he saw Rogue's predicament. Then he laughed.
"Ha, ha, Pietro," Rogue mocked him sarcastically. "Don't know what ya find so funny. It's your bad carpentry that's caused this… not ta mention your poor balance." She twisted awkwardly to get a look at how she was snagged. The angle was bad and she didn't trust herself to blindly yank on it, not when she'd remembered ruining so many locker doors. "A little help, please."
Pietro stood up and reached to unhook her. He stopped short when he saw where he'd have to touch her. "It's hooked on your back pocket."
"So unhook it," she said. Her annoyance grew with her embarrassment of being stuck to the wall ten feet up.
Pietro avoided her eyes, bit his lip, and set to work. A warmth crept through him when his hand brushed the inside of her pocket. She jerked from the brief contact… tearing the pocket clean off. Pietro stifled another bout of laughter. He really didn't want to go for another swim in the lake. Rogue laughed too, though, as she inspected her torn pants. But then her laughter died though with the thought that had spurned it… That's me, alright… torn.
And then… she freaked out. Oh, no, the card! What would Pietro say if he saw it? She searched all over the ground furiously.
"Looking for this?" Pietro asked, his voice taking a distinctively angrier tone.
Great, he's pissed. Bet he won't stay and help now.
He turned the card over and read it. It was solid black and glossy. It was shaped like a playing card. It was a playing card. Just like Gambit uses. On one side was the King of Spades in shiny red printing, just like on a regular playing card. On the back, in the same shiny red printing, was the name of a club called 'Spades' and its address, handwritten in silver ink was, 'Friday, 10 pm.'
"Is this what all this is really about?" He interrogated her. "Is it? You want to get in their good graces so you can meet up with lover-bayou? Is-this-what-I-was-helping-you-for?" He was speed yelling by the last question.
He looked so hurt Rogue didn't know what to say. She wasn't expecting him to look hurt. Angry, she expected. A lecture, she expected, but not the shattered veneer before her.
"Tell me you're not going?" He pleaded through gritted teeth. "That you're not even considering it." It was obvious he was struggling to control his rate of speech. "Tell me you meant-to-throw-it-away." His control was slipping. "That-you-ARE-throwing-it-away."
Rogue lowered her eyes to the ground. Hovering as she was, she looked like a defeated puppy.
Pietro's voice was very quiet, very deliberately slow, when he asked again, "You're not meeting him, right? You wouldn't do that to me."
"To you?!" Rogue's eyes snapped up to match the level of anger in her voice. "I'm not doing anything ta ya. Shoulda known. Egotistical Pietro always thinkin' of himself. You're just like him, ya know? Yer both too cocky for yer own good; won't take the hint and leave me alone. Gawd, Quickie, ya don't know anything. Ya think ah want him showing up everywhere? Huh? I wanna get rid of him once and for all!"
It clicked then. She wanted to complete the rebuilding as a surprise… the card as an invitation… running into Gambit on the road outside the institute grounds. He turned and stomped around the corner to look at a portion of the wall on the second floor that Rogue had insisted they complete first.
"That's your room isn't it?" He said, more than asked, loud enough for her to hear from where he'd left her. He hadn't bothered to check if she'd followed him; just assumed she had.
He was bound and determined to tear up her defense, shred it like the image he held in his mind of dispatching the Cajun, ripping him to shreds. He turned to face her so he could do the best he could at the moment and do it right in front of her. He held the card up for her to watch him tear it up. For the moment, that would have to be enough. Later, though…
Later, I'll wait for Gambit to show up here again, and then I'll really get rid of him once and for all.
Continuing his cruel rant: "He's been in there, hasn't he? Did he break in or did you let him in?" He didn't give Rogue a chance to answer. "Let him in, I bet. Invited him in… He has great control of that charm power of his."
"Charm power?" Rogue squawked.
Pietro turned to face her then. She'd probably been ready to pound him good and snatch back the card until he stung her shocked with that bit of information. He narrowed his eyes dangerously on her. He liked having this over him, over her, and he was sooo going to bait her with it. He started to twist and tug the corners of the card—"You know, like he used on you during that fight. You remember, the fight that got you captured."
Tears trembled at the edges of her eyes as she fought to keep them from falling. "Yer an asshole!"
It was the last thing in the world he wanted to be anymore. His fingers lost their strength and he could barely keep lifting the card, let alone tear it. If her tears fell, they'd take the rest of his strength with them.
She yanked it out of his hand. She rose up, intending to fly off.
"Don't go," Pietro said quietly.
He never got the chance to find out if she heard him—if she stayed because he'd asked her to—because someone else called her too.
"She's over here!" Blob called out as he saw them.
Pietro and Rogue turned to watch him approach. Blob was still carrying the Hope Chest. Scott rounded the corner and jogged up to join them as well. Rogue hurriedly hid the card in her remaining back pocket. Pietro noticed. He snorted and tossed his head up in disgust.
"What's going on?" Scott asked as he saw the hostility between Pietro and Rogue.
"Nothing," Rogue snapped.
"Sure, nothing," Scott sighed. "So why aren't you at school?"
Blob put down the Hope Chest and lumbered up to Pietro. "And what are you doing here?" He punctuated each word with a finger poked into Pietro's chest.
Rogue scowled, and said, "Leave him alone, Fred. He was just helping me with somethin'."
Pietro's snapped his head around to eye her in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Why'd-she-just-stick-up-for-me? She-wanted-to-strangle-me-a-second-ago?
"You sure, Rogue?"
"Yeah, Ah'm sure."
"Doing what?" Scott asked. The BoM may have taken Pietro back in, but Scott wasn't about to trust him alone with any of the X-Men just yet… despite what he'd done to help rescue Rogue and the others from Trask [3].
Rogue lifted higher in the air and gestured to the completed sections of the mansion's repairs. "Surprise." It was droll.
Scott took his first good look at the mansion since he'd gotten there. He'd been so caught up in looking for Rogue, he hadn't noticed the fresh repairs. They had gotten a lot done. "Wow…" Was all he could get out. "I mean… really. You two did all this?"
Rogue scowled again. "Don't get too excited, Cyke. Ah made a new whole while we were at it."
"Pietro really helped?" Fred asked. There was more suspicion in his voice than Rogue had ever heard in it… even more than she'd ever heard in Cyke's. Rogue covered her grin with a layer of her hair. She got it under control a moment later.
"Yeah, I did," Pietro said. He was trying for intimidation, but it came out kind of sheepish. He covered by narrowing his eyes on Cyke, then Fred, and asking fiercely, "What of it?"
Rogue decided to diffuse the situation before it escalated for no good reason other than stupid pride. "What ya got there, Freddie?" She asked.
Fred looked from Scott to Pietro, then back to Scott. When he saw they weren't going anywhere, he bowed his head and said, "I made it for you."
Aww, it's almost cute. He's shy… embarrassed. Rogue cleared her throat.
Scott eventually caught on that Rogue wanted to be alone with Fred, to ease Fred's shyness. Scott scrambled for something to say, finally coming up with, "Hey, Pietro, why don't I take you to lunch…" He tripped out the rest, "To say thanks for helping Rogue out."
Pietro eyed Scott in distrust, but when Rogue threw him a glare, he submitted.
"Food?" Fred piped up. Scott had to stifle a laugh. Wasn't hard since Rogue turned the glare from Pietro to him.
"They'll bring us back something," Rogue said. "Won't ya, Cyke?"
Scott nodded and then he dragged Pietro off with him.
Once they were out of sight and earshot, Rogue walked up and really admired the Hope Chest. "It's beautiful, Freddie," she said with absolute sincerity.
It really was excellent craftsmanship. It was solid pine… the only wood the school provided for the shop class since it was fairly inexpensive. He'd stained it with a dark cherry finish. There weren't drip marks anywhere. There was a carving on the top and on all the corners. It was obviously specifically designed to fit Rogue's personality since the carving wasn't some elaborate concoction of swirls or flowers. Instead it was flames. They were even stained a slightly more orangey-reddish finish. It made Rogue grin.
She lifted the top of the chest. The smell of cedar sweetened the air. The entire interior was lined with it. She'd always loved the smell of that wood. And the color, too, like the fiery sunsets she used to watch reflecting off the Mississippi.
Rogue peered inside. The first thing she saw in it was an old fashioned handmade quilt. She lifted the quilt out carefully; treating it like it was most delicate butterfly wings. The patches were embroidered with names and birth and death dates. Rogue looked at Freddie in shock.
"It's what it looks like," he said. It was a family quilt. His family quilt. He skimmed over that personal part, unfolding the quilt further to point out a particular patch. Below Freddie's name and birth date was embroidery that took up three entire squares, centered. Framed by two flames were the words, 'Rogue, The Southern Spitfire, my friend.'
Rogue looked at him in awe. Then she clutched the quilt to her chest… and remembered. There was significance to this gift.
The guards had dropped him in his cell after yet another battery of experiments. They had been testing the resilience of the Blob's invulnerability… meaning they were submitting his skin to varying tortures. He hit the floor with a muffled SPLAT and didn't move. Rogue glared at the retreating guards, one of whom, winked.
"Don't worry, honey buns, you're turn's coming up again," the guard said after he winked.
Rogue spat at him from between the bars. Both guards just laughed.
"Ya'll won't be laughing when Ah get outta here. Ya'll be dead."
Their laughter stopped cold.
Cold. That was the form of the latest test of Blob's invulnerability. Rogue realized this as soon as she looked Fred over once the guards were gone.
Stupid shits. His skin's impenetrable. His stature's immovable. He ain't resistant to hypothermia.
She reached between the bars that separated their cells and tested his temperature with her bare skin. She didn't even marvel over the skin-to-skin contact. That wasn't even on her mind. For once, it wasn't her concern, not after eight days of wearing a suppression collar. His skin was like ice, but there was a heady warmth deep below it. He was developing one heck of a fever. She reached her arm in further, till her shoulder squeezed between the bars painfully, as she tried to maneuver him onto his back so she could get a better look at him. It wasn't her strength that turned him. She was wearing a collar. Plus, the strength hadn't been forced into her yet. She hadn't even a conception of it yet. He had turned on his own.
"C-c-c-ol-ol-d-d-d," He quivered.
"Ah know, sugah," Rogue said, soothing him, "But Ah need ta see what else they did ta ya. Can ya move closer?"
He didn't answer. He slowly shifted his girth against the bars. He flinched expecting the bars to be cold against his skin. They had always been cold.
"Warm…" he said.
It made Rogue cringe it came out so cozily… like he'd sipped from a mug of hot cocoa with fluffy marshmallows.
"Damnit," she muttered.
She had to get him warm. The bars felt like ice against her body, just a little colder than his skin had felt. It wasn't a good thing that he thought they felt warm. It was worse than she thought. Rogue pushed harder between the bars to get the best angle at inspecting any other wounds he may have. She stifled a gasp when she saw the burn marks on his chest. They were round red splotches. There were half a dozen of them or so. Two of them looked crispy.
"What did they do, Fred?"
She listened to his answer as she tore off strips from her uniform—they hadn't yet changed her clothes either—and dipped them in the, unfortunately, cold water in her surprisingly clean toilet. She was already dabbing the wounds, cleaning as best she could with the poor materials she had as he finally managed to squeak out, "E-e-e…" He took in a sharp breath when she dabbed one of the crispy burns. "Lec…" he tried again. He banged his head against the concrete floor with his frustration. Rogue caught his forehead to stop him from injuring himself further.
"Shhh. It's okay. I understand," she assured him as she wiped the cool cloth across his forehead.
He sighed, relieved.
Shock. They stupid shock froze him then fed him electricity.
She finished cleaning up the burns then grabbed the blanket off her mat, and all the other bedding too. The little there was. She gently lifted his heavy head and scooted her pillow under it. She pushed her blanket between the bars and spread it over him as best she could. Then she begged as many blankets from as many other prisoners that she could. Few turned down Rogue's urgency.
There was a strange hope in the passing of blankets between the cells.
Rogue folded the quilt back up and placed it in the chest. As she went to lower the lid, she saw the engraving on its underside. It read, 'A place to store your wealth of hope ~ When you're not too busy loaning them out.'
Rogue was overwhelmed. She couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eye. She couldn't even let him see her smile because that would soften the adamantium reserve she had built up… that she had earned. Somehow, Fred recognized this, so he grazed right by any thanks she could possibly muster.
"One more thing," he said. He was beaming. She could hear the sunshine in his voice.
He gently pulled her back from the chest so he could reach his favorite part of his gift to her. His hand slid along the bottom lip of the chest. A small lever was released and he pulled out a hidden drawer. The deception was incredibly successful. Rogue hadn't even noticed that the bottom of the chest was higher than it should have been on the inside.
The drawer was no more than three inches deep. It was lined with velvet the color of blood. In it rested a dazzling array of shining weapons in concave displays. There were four blades. They were small, specifically chosen for Rogue's small hands to handle. They were accompanied by matching sheaths designed to strap onto both her forearms and her thighs. There was also a gun. A small Firestar with an inner pants holster beside it. A cluster of bullets ran a row above and below the gun and its holster.
"'Cause sometimes hope ain't enough," Rogue whispered. It was engraved on a tiny brass placard screwed in on top of the velvet at the uppermost right corner of the drawer.
"Yeah," Fred said. Even remembered, his sorrow was palpable.
Those were the exact words Fred had said to her after Rogue's first punishment for spouting off at the guards while trying to protect the others… and not just Fred, Evan, McCoy, and Logan, either. Though it was because of Fred and Logan that the first punishment was administered.
The guards had returned with one of the doctors about half an hour after Fred had been dumped in his cell. They had been surprised to see all the blankets and pillows piled on and around Fred in an attempt to keep him warm and break his fever. They were more shocked to see all the prisoners pressed against the bars to watch Fred's recovery. There was a vigor to them that hadn't existed in a while. When the guards took in Rogue's ministrations of Fred, which she strayed from since the guards and doctor had entered, they knew exactly whom the culprit was behind that renewed vigor.
Rogue was ignoring the guards and the doctor effectively. She was sitting against the bars, one hand stoking Fred's hair through the bars. She was humming to him softly. It was an unintelligible tune. It had neither words nor melody. It was a string of comfort, dulcet links of her hominy refusal [4]. She ignored them still when they unlocked her cage and stalked inside. She only acknowledged them when she was yanked off the floor and dragged out of her cell. And then, it was to spit in their faces, specifically, the face of the one who had winked at her earlier. He grinned as he wiped her spittle off his face with the sleeve of his uniform. Then he whispered to another guard, who left and returned moments later with two more guards carrying a sedated Logan.
While the remaining guards were slapping around Rogue and the other guard was retrieving Logan, Fred watched from blackened eyes as the doctor administered the necessary medical attention with the gentility of Frankenstein. Rogue's only reaction to the sight of Logan was the grim clenching of her jaw and the diamond hardening of her glare. The winking guard responded with a punch to her cheek and a bark of laughter at the blood she spat out. But, that's when the real punishment started. At least that was what Fred had thought at the time.
Two guards held Rogue in place, her back to the wall so she would have a clear view. The two guards carrying Logan propped him in a chair. Four guards pulled a limp, though awake, Fred from the doctor's treatment. Winking guy whispered orders to the doctor, who, without one word or expression of protest, followed the new orders. He pulled a strange device from his bag. It fit onto Logan's hand and latched closed with three clicks. It looked like the housing of Edward Sissorhand's hands. A few tweaks here and there, and SKINT, out popped Logan's claws. The device's sole purpose was to coax the claws out while Logan was unconscious and wearing an inhibitor collar.
Fred's eyes begged Rogue for help as the four guards held him down and Logan's claws were brought closer and closer to his bulbous stomach. Fred had a collar on. His skin was by no means impervious right then.
"Don't," Rogue said. It was colder than Fred's skin had been.
Winking guy laughed. "What ya gonna do, mutie girl?" He flicked the collar on her neck. "Ya ain't gotcha freak powers." He trailed the barrel of his gun down her arm. Only in America would they give guns to guards watching over super powered beings. "There ain't nothing to ya. You're all skin and bones."
Rogue ground her feet into the floor and squared her shoulders. The guards jerked her back, but it changed nothing of the fight in her. "Ah won't always have this collar on."
"Then what? Huh?" He leaned in closer to her, bent down to meet her eyes. "What kind of freak are ya?" He glanced from her to the picture on the small clipboard that hung on the outside of her cell; the picture had been taken when she was first admitted into Trask's institution. He looked over the white makeup that had been flaking and sweating off her, at the dark lipstick that was thin enough to see the natural pink underneath, and the black eyeliner that was smeared with the running mascara. Armed with that image, he guessed, "You some kind of vampire? Gonna suck the life out of me?"
If he only knew how close he was. Rogue smirked and said, "Something like that."
"Dream on, freak," he scoffed. "Probably got the power to piss yourself." He nodded to the guard controlling Logan's claws.
What the guards didn't know, but Fred did, was that Rogue was used to fighting without super powers. She despised her mutant ability to absorb others and used it only as a last resort. She was always covered up, too, so even if she got close enough to use it, her adversary had to be prone enough, or taken by enough surprise for her to slip a glove off. Because of these things, Rogue had been trained to fight up close and personal. She had to. She was no powerhouse… not at this point, at least.
When the first trickle of blood escaped the wound made by Logan's claws, Rogue stomped down on the foot of one of his guards. She elbowed him in his nose when he loosened his grip and bowed over in pain. The second blow sent him reeling. Her third blow caught her other guard in his knees as he tried to wrangle Rogue under his control. An arm tightening around her neck and the barrel of a gun to her temple halted her, though.
"All I needed was an excuse," the winking man said, "To keep the boss man off my back." He winked at her, "Thank you."
Logan's lucky. He doesn't have to watch, Fred had mused ruefully.
Rogue's ankles were strapped down to the arms of a sturdy chair. Still, Rogue struggled enough that two of the guards had a hold of either side to hold it steady. Her arms where bound behind her, and her torso down to her upper thighs were held down on the threadbare cot by two other guards. Winking guy raised the aluminum bat.
Aluminum bat? Where'd he get that? Fred remembered wondering that all too clearly.
SWACK! The bat cracked across her shins. Rogue screamed. Chaos ensued. Prisoners hollered. Fred fought with all his weary might, Logan stirred, but only got in one good blow before the doctor sedated him once more. In the end, Rogue had broken bones in both her legs, Logan was sedated and removed from the room, and a battered and bruised Blob acquired a broken chunk from a pair of the doctor's glasses that he managed to hide from the guards. He'd shown Rogue the shard, beaming with pride, after her whimpers had died down. They'd left her untreated for a long time, to make her suffer more. All she could do was lie there on the floor, just a few feet in from her left open (to further the torture, since she couldn't get up and walk out it) cell door.
He reached through the bars and held the shard so that it would catch the little light there was in the room. He needed her to understand what it meant. Once he was sure she'd seen it, he said, "Hope ain't always enough."
That was the first time Rogue had stood up for one of the prisoners. It was the first time she'd had her legs broken. It was by no means the last of it or the worst of it. And it sure wasn't the cause of the dilemma with her legs that she was now in. Yeah, Fred had noticed that she hadn't put weight on them in all the time they'd been free of that place. He hadn't seen exactly how it happened, but he had an idea. He'd been with her before and after it had happened… the real cause of her healing problems. He wasn't going to squeal to Xavier, the X-Geeks, or even any of the Brotherhood for that matter. He owed her that much, at least. More really. He owed her more than the Hope Chest or the quilt. He owed her his trust. He knew he wouldn't always be able to stand by it, stand by her. They were on opposite sides despite the strained alliance they had formed. But keeping this secret he could do. He'd hold it forever, if she asked it.
Of course, he still wished she'd get help.
Rogue finally met Fred's gaze. When she did so, she felt the presence of the card in her pocket again. This time it burned like betrayal.
Gambit sat on the love seat in the corner. A warm red light highlighted him in the otherwise dark recess of the club, Spades. His Diable Blanc eyes shone with purpose and patience. He was the essence of power, control, and sensual appeal. He had spent the night in this same spot, sipping rum and coke after rum and coke, and turning away one girl after another. For every one he turned away, two more approached him.
He put on his sunglasses to protect his sensitive eyes moments before the house lights came on. The club was closing and the employees needed to see to clean up for the night. Behind the cover of the dark glasses, Remy LeBeau shut his eyes. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and stood. He was again the cocky, suave, Ragin' Cajun… He was Gambit once more.
He paused briefly at the door on his way out. "Anot'er time, petite. Next week, maybe?"
And then he was gone, a thief in the night.
Rogue went to sleep that night satisfied that she had accomplished her goal for the day. She was a friend to all of them, but nobody's friend. She was separate, a solitaire, distanced from all. But, she still cared.
Footnotes:
[1] All three acts of friendship and caring occurred in different episodes (I think).
[2] No, Fred does not have a crush on Rogue. He considers her his friend, and he, hers.
[3] That will be told when I write more on the escape… coming up soon, I promise, just not this chapter.
[4] Hominy—Webster's College Dictionary definition—(uncommon usage), that which is ground or beaten, usually referring to ground corn.
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.
8 days (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and breaking Rogue's legs (Ch. 4).
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. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.
90 days (12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.
91 days (13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3).
Thank you for reading and reviewing.