DISCLAIMER—X-Men? No X-Men here. Why do you ask? Oh, you want to know if I own the X-Men. Nope, sorry, you must have come to the wrong house. But please, do have a nice day.
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REVELATIONS
The night air had taken an unexpected chill as the older students waited on the front lawn of the mansion. Logan had rightfully detected Magneto's scent in the air, along with an unfamiliar one, as evident by the two metal spheres drifting from out of the peaceful night sky.
Xavier couldn't help but notice the tension in the air surrounding him. His students minds were fresh with worries about Rogue and Wanda, and Magneto's sudden arrival did nothing to calm them. Although the students knew that Magneto did not willingly attack them in Mexico, it wasn't easy for them to forget the times he had willingly attacked.
The first sphere finally touched down, and with a quiet woosh opened, and Eric Lehnsherr stepped out, surveying the crowd. With a voice oozing charm (as Magneto was perfectly capable of doing when it suited him) he greeted his old friend.
"Charles, I see you have brought out the welcoming committee. How…kind of you." Shnick. Magneto turned to observe Wolverine slowly making his way towards the second sphere, posed and ready for whatever attack may come from the unfamiliar scent lingering around the metal contraption, which was now hovering a few inches above the ground.
Xavier furrowed his brow in concentration towards the new arrival, then, a small smile came to his face as the realization hit him.
"You see I mean no harm, Charles. Please ask your guard dog to step down. I'm afraid his very presence will frighten the poor child…she has been through too much already."
"Indeed," Xavier agreed. "Logan, our guest will do no harm." He began to wheel his way towards the second sphere. As he passed the rigid figure of Piotr, he placed a hand on the boys arm. Piotr turned to meet his eyes, and as comprehension hit him, he headed towards the second sphere. Again, the almost silent woosh penetrated the air, and a small blonde head timidly peeked from around the corner of the sphere.
"Illyana!"
Rogue lay quietly on the bed in the hospital bay of the Institute, thinking back on the dreams she had witnessed. Dreams? She wondered. Or memories? Memories? Or dreams? Her head was swimming from the concept put before her. She concentrated on thinking back to the time when she had first absorbed Wanda—while under Mesmero's command. The memories she had taken that day where a muddled mess in her head, where one person's would slowly blend into another and she had no control over whose childhood may come to her in the dark of night. She pressed herself into trying to untangle the web of thoughts that only her meditations had managed to push into the recesses of her mind. Memories of birthdays and Christmases, of baptisms and hunting trips, of screams, of cries, of friends abandoning you, of parents disowning you, of being sent away to live with strangers all flooded her mind at once, and she carefully tried to pick up upon the faces and voices that would haunt Wanda.
Her mind finally grasped a memory—one of the few peaceful ones that came to her.
A carousel. A laughing Pietro, and a smiling Magneto. The world surrounding her danced before her eyes as it spun around and around, up and down as she laughed and laughed. She had dared Pietro to run as fast as he could around the carousel, in the opposite direction as it was spinning, and he had until he collapsed upon the floor, holding a hand over his mouth and looking green. Her father stood at the edge of the spinning metal and simply observed the game.
Suddenly his face grew cold. Strong hands pulled on her, forcing her away, carrying her up steps as she cried for help. And there her father stood. Watching them take her away.
"Please shut the door behind you, Magnus" Xavier requested as he wheeled his chair into his private study. With a flick of Magneto's wrist, the door silently closed. Xavier positioned himself behind his desk and turned to look at his visitor.
"Will you be staying with us, Magnus?"
His visitor sat down in a chair opposite the desk, and slowly levitated a small metal paperweight. After a moments of consideration, a reply was finally spoken. "I don't think that would be wise, Charles. With you being the exception, I do not believe that I would be welcome here."
A moment of silence held in the office. "I don't necessarily agree with that. I have a feeling that Piotr and Illyana would be more that hospitable to you."
"Ah, yes. The Rasputins. A very interesting family. You do know of their great grandfather, I am sure."
A single eyebrow rose. "Grigory Rasputin? How interesting. I never thought to make the connection. Of course."
The paperweight began to dance across the room, swaying back and forth. "He was one of the most famed healers of his time. It was most certainly his actions that saved the young Tsarevitch Alexis' life. He was precognitive, clairvoyant. His eyes were rumored to change color. Then, of course, there is the event of his death. He was poisoned with cyanide—it had no effect. The he was shot in the head. When his attacker checked to see if he was dead, he began to throttle the young Duke, and then fled. He was caught, shot again, and then bludgeoned. Yet he lived. He was bound and thrown into a frozen river, and finally died. By the time his body was found, it was revealed that he had removed the binds. It makes you wonder, doesn't it Charles?"
"You are proposing that Rasputin was a mutant? I myself have often wondered that?"
"How crass, Charles. I must admit that I have never enjoyed the term 'mutant.' I much prefer Homo Superiors. For that is what we are, Charles. We are human, just a superior breed. It is too bad that the Sapiens refuse to acknowledge the fact. But yes, I do believe he was. And, unfortunately for his family, so did the commands of the Russian government. Maybe they did not understand he was Superior, but they knew he was special. So unknownst to his family, they have been watched for many, many years. The gene causing the "mutation," as the humans acknowledge it, lay recessive for 3 generations. Piotr was the first it was found in. He left his home in Siberia, unsure of what to make with his new powers."
"And then you found him."
"I saved him, Charles. He was in need of a Savior. I made him a deal—a year of work under my command, and his sister would be brought to him."
"So now you bring Illyana here?"
"A deal is a deal, Charles. Besides, what is a man who refuses to adhere to his promises?"
Charles lay deep in thought. "And of the thoughts, I picked up from her?"
"Yes." The paperweight suddenly dipped down through the air at a quickening speed, then just before it hit the ground, swooped up to the other side. "I have mentioned that the Rasputin's have been observed through many generations. When Piotr was recognized on the television from the battle with the sentinels, and "mutants," as you so eloquently coin our kind, were discovered, a force was sent to Siberia to capture the family."
"Their parents?"
His face darkened. "Perished in the "camp" that the Russians kept them in. By the time I was able to locate Illyana, she was weakened."
"And is she…?"
"She is one of us, Charles. I did not think she would be, otherwise I would have enlisted your help in locating her. As it were, I came across her in Novorossiysk. I had learned that they had obtained a young female and were presently experimenting on her. Naturally, I could not allow this to continue. So I decided to save the child."
Xavier took a deep breath. "At the cost of several human lives, I presume."
"I will never understand why you choose to weep at the idea of human death, Charles. It is understandable that they would do the same to us, if it were possible. A new age of holocaust would be upon us, and I, Charles, will never allow that to happen again. Besides, 'Death is the only inescapable, unavoidable, sure thing. We are sentenced to die the day we're born.'[1]"
Charles pondered. "Cary?" he finally guessed.
Magneto smiled. "Gilmore."
Charles nodded. "And she was brought here?"
"I naturally have no use for a child that young, Charles. And I did promise her brother that I would rejoin them. And I know you too well, Charles, than to think that you may turn her away."
"Her powers?"
"Almost magical. She can manipulate objects, both organic and inorganic to comply to her will.[2]"
"Then it is similar to Wanda's."
The paperweight flew across the room and came to a halt just short of one of the glass windows. "Similar. But not the same. My daughter can manipulate objects to strike against those using them. Illyana's are stronger being she can force them to comply with her every wish. Of course, with her being as young as she is, she can only use them for a short amount of time before she tires. I knew you could teach her more control."
"Yes." A moment of silence echoed in the chamber.
"I must admit, Magnus, that I am amazed that you have yet to inquire of your children."
Rogue sat up straight in her bed, sweat pouring off her body. The images that had come to her were as real as any of her own memories.
"Everyt'ing al'right, Cherie?"
"Remy. How long 'ave ya been here?"
The disheveled Cajun sat up straighter in the chair that he had been half asleep in.
"Une heure... peut-être deux"[3] Remy stood up out of his chair and in one swift move sat on the side of Rogue's temporary bed, pulling her into his lap. "le ?It est dur pour se rappeler le moment où confronté à une telle beauté exquise ?"[4] He slowly dipped his head to Rogues, and allowed his lips to gently caress hers. After only a moment, he again shifted his position, adjusting them till he lay prone on top of her, he concentrating on every move his lips and hands made, she concentrating on not killing him.
„?Get Ihre schmutzigen Hände weg von meiner Schwester!?"
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Footnotes:
[1] Rightfully acknowledged to Gary Mark Gilmore
[2] To be completely honest, I'm not terribly sure of what Illyana's Magikal powers would be—I can't seem to find them anywhere on any character sites. I found all the stuff about time travels, I'm just not sure if that is something I can work in quite yet.
[3] "One hour…maybe two."
[4] "It is hard to remember time when faced with such exquisite beauty."
[5] "Get your filthy hands off my sister!"
