In the middle of the night, Rogue will find herself sitting up in bed gasping, her lungs burning and her face hot. A nightmare, a recurring nightmare. It must be. What other cause can there be? But no matter how long she thinks on it, she never remember her dream.
She's gotten quite used to not remembering.
***
Rogue has been up and about in the house for over a week now and the realness of the situation has sunken in. She can get up in the morning and not be surprised by her surroundings, not wonder why she can't hear Kitty breathing in the other bed. She shares a noiseless breakfast every morning with the Russian and laughs with St. John in the afternoon and evening. Every once in a while, she'll look out her window and see Evan, Fred, and Remy lounging on the grass talking or running around playing some game.
"Why are ya always out in the yard?" she asks Mr. McCoy early one evening.
"I'm restless, I suppose." He points past the trees to a dark brown post standing stuck in the ground. "Do you see that post? Well, that's the limit to as far as we can travel. There are a bunch of them, circling the premises. Going past them means meeting up with the force field, which is..." His face carries a grim smile, remembering. "No fun at all. And no use. I just need space to move around, run and jump. It's the Beast in me."
She understands what he says completely, though perhaps in a different way than he means. This old house on Genosha is a far cry from the Mansion or even the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House, places where she could come and go as she pleased, within reason. She could go to school or just out somewhere else and pretend for a while, play at a faux normalcy. Here, her housemates and the collar on her throat are constant reminders of her inherent strangeness.
As the sun is going down, she imagines she can see a faint glimmer of the sea.
***
Magneto, Sabertooth, and Pietro are always downstairs, working on some mysterious project. Once or twice, as she's walking down a hall, she feels a sudden breeze and knows it is Quicksilver, speeding past and avoiding her. She wonders what they're planning and asks St. John what he knows about it.
"I don't know much of ANYTHING," he admits, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know how he found us, even. He was just standin' on the porch one day, sayin' he knew all about me and my powers, how my dealing with 'em in secret was hurtin' my parents. The next thing I knew, I was with him an' Sabertooth an' Gambit an' the Russian, learnin' how to fight an' control these powers."
"So yer just here 'cause he said ya should?"
He ponders this for a moment before answering, "No. No, I honestly believe that he's right, to some extent at least. I think the deal with mutants is gonna be that either we attain great power quick or we get none at all. Personally, I'd MUCH rather be part of the former. I mean, look at the track record humanity's had with different people so far. It's not very good. And, well, I know you don't agree with Magneto at all, an' that's all right. But when I'm a high-ranking official in Magneto's all-mutant, all-powerful regime, I'll make sure you're not punished as harshly as the rest of Xavier's team."
She bursts out laughing. "Oh really?"
"Yeah, I'll set somethin' up for ya. You can be my scullery maid, maybe."
"Well, when all ya guys're imprisoned for terrorism, ah'll come by an' visit ya. Ah'll bring a cake."
"Okay. Just remember, I like cream cheese frosting."
"Ah'll make note of it."
***
She sits on the lawn with the boys, the Russian excluded, naturally. They toss a small purple ball from person-to-person, making a casual game of it. St. John is with them, but won't participate, keeping his head down and playing with the individual blades of grass, only making sarcastic comments; he's there strictly for moral support, for Rogue.
"Ya from de South, girl?" Remy asks her as he passes the ball to Fred.
"Brilliant deduction," St. John mutters under his breath so only Rogue can hear. "Since the accents of the American South and Manchester, England are so similar and all."
She suppresses a grin and answers, "Yeah. Mississippi."
"Dat close ta Nawlins."
"Sure. Ah've been there."
"Mebbe ya see me."
"Ah don't think so."
"What, you didn't?" St. John mutters again. "Isn't Gambit in the tourist handbooks, under the listing Cajun Casanova?"
Remy scowls and turns to him for a second. "Ya say somethin', homme?"
"WHAT did you call me?" St. John's voice is suddenly high-pitched and loud.
"He called ya 'homme'," Rogue says gently, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It means 'man."
"Well, jeez," he murmurs, concentrating on the grass again.
"So ANYWAY," Remy says. "Ya like it here, chere?" He scoots a little closer to Rogue.
"It's all right," she answers, and moves away a bit.
"Hey Evan, pass ME the ball," St. John says with a strained smile.
"But it's Rogue's turn!" Evan answers, slightly taken aback by the proposal to break the unspoken rules.
"Pass it to me. I want in."
Evan shrugs and tosses it to him. St. John then throws it to Rogue, who throws it to Remy, and so forth.
The Cajun leans in closer to Rogue again. "An' ya havin' fun?" He's practically purring.
"Um, yeah," she replies, looking away. "As much as possible, anyway."
"Want Remy ta make it more fun?" He raises an eyebrow and grins again.
At that instant, the hard blue ball smacks Remy directly in the face. His eyes widen in surprise and he clamps his hands over his nose, which begins to bleed. He faces St. John and shouts:
"He, he do dat on purpose!!" His face is red with rage.
St. John throws his hands up helplessly. "Jeez, I'm sorry, Rem! I was trying to pass it to Rogue. Maybe you shouldn't've been so close." There is an edge to his last words.
Remy jumps up and screams, pointing a finger at the other boy, "Aw, you gon' get it for dis!" He stalks off to the house, still holding his nose, with Evan and Fred following.
"Ah guess the game's over," Rogue remarks. St. John nods in agreement.
***
That night she wakes up sweating again, and leans her cheek on the coolness of the empty wall against her bed. It takes a while to catch her breath, and tears comes to her eyes. She wants to sigh, but it would hurt too much. Sweating, she leans over to the window and opens it, letting the salty breeze from the ocean drift in.
Downstairs in garden, she sees, stands the lone figure of Pietro, staring up forlornly at her window.
To be continued...
**Author's Note:
Randi - I think the last chapter's scene with Piotr is one of my better works. I'm glad that's what you gathered from all of it, since that's what I intended! Oh, and yeah, I was referring to the July 23 issue of X-Treme.
LotusPen - Grrr, YOU should write a Pyro/Rogue! You'd do a great job! At the moment, though, I just can't, unless you want a delay in this fic...? ;)
Caramia - Fanfiction wins almost every time.
Demonica - Gay guys ARE cool, aren't they? And here's a teeny taste of Rietro for you.
Phoenix - Tsk, leave it to you to figure out something I hadn't thought of...IN MY OWN FIC!! But it's brilliant, nonetheless, the idea that Rogue may know a little Russian herself...I may have to use it to my advantage. (If I can, that is...I've been trying to find some simple Russian words in the English alphabet, but it's almost impossible. All I have is this huge list of dirty words, which were the only things I knew in the first place. Piotr may have some colorful language coming up.)
General notes on Pyro - A couple of people (Darkfire and Randi) pointed out that Pyro doesn't really make fire. Yeah, he just controls it psionically. I had a couple of reasons for changing this, but what it all boils down to is that, in my mind, to keep him a sypathetic character he HAD to create his flame. Don't ask my reasoning here; most likely someone will just find holes in my ideas anyway. On the Gambit situation, I don't think he turned down St. John in the past because, for one, St. John seems shy about his sexuality and wouldn't be likely to hit on anyone,especially a teammate. The more I think of it, the more I think the reason he so dislikes Remy is either one of two reasons: 1) he has an unrequited attraction to him (which I believe was also suggested by a few reviewers), or 2) he's resentful of Gambit's macho womanizing attitude, taking offense to it. Maybe he's even said some offensive things about homosexuals. In this chapter, for instance, Gambit calls St. John 'homme' and Pyro seems to think he's being called something less nice. Of course, Pyro could just be touchy.
Another general note - since a couple people have asked about it, I'm starting an update email list. If you want to know when this fic (or any of my other ones) are updated, give me your email address and I'll put you on it. **
She's gotten quite used to not remembering.
***
Rogue has been up and about in the house for over a week now and the realness of the situation has sunken in. She can get up in the morning and not be surprised by her surroundings, not wonder why she can't hear Kitty breathing in the other bed. She shares a noiseless breakfast every morning with the Russian and laughs with St. John in the afternoon and evening. Every once in a while, she'll look out her window and see Evan, Fred, and Remy lounging on the grass talking or running around playing some game.
"Why are ya always out in the yard?" she asks Mr. McCoy early one evening.
"I'm restless, I suppose." He points past the trees to a dark brown post standing stuck in the ground. "Do you see that post? Well, that's the limit to as far as we can travel. There are a bunch of them, circling the premises. Going past them means meeting up with the force field, which is..." His face carries a grim smile, remembering. "No fun at all. And no use. I just need space to move around, run and jump. It's the Beast in me."
She understands what he says completely, though perhaps in a different way than he means. This old house on Genosha is a far cry from the Mansion or even the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House, places where she could come and go as she pleased, within reason. She could go to school or just out somewhere else and pretend for a while, play at a faux normalcy. Here, her housemates and the collar on her throat are constant reminders of her inherent strangeness.
As the sun is going down, she imagines she can see a faint glimmer of the sea.
***
Magneto, Sabertooth, and Pietro are always downstairs, working on some mysterious project. Once or twice, as she's walking down a hall, she feels a sudden breeze and knows it is Quicksilver, speeding past and avoiding her. She wonders what they're planning and asks St. John what he knows about it.
"I don't know much of ANYTHING," he admits, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know how he found us, even. He was just standin' on the porch one day, sayin' he knew all about me and my powers, how my dealing with 'em in secret was hurtin' my parents. The next thing I knew, I was with him an' Sabertooth an' Gambit an' the Russian, learnin' how to fight an' control these powers."
"So yer just here 'cause he said ya should?"
He ponders this for a moment before answering, "No. No, I honestly believe that he's right, to some extent at least. I think the deal with mutants is gonna be that either we attain great power quick or we get none at all. Personally, I'd MUCH rather be part of the former. I mean, look at the track record humanity's had with different people so far. It's not very good. And, well, I know you don't agree with Magneto at all, an' that's all right. But when I'm a high-ranking official in Magneto's all-mutant, all-powerful regime, I'll make sure you're not punished as harshly as the rest of Xavier's team."
She bursts out laughing. "Oh really?"
"Yeah, I'll set somethin' up for ya. You can be my scullery maid, maybe."
"Well, when all ya guys're imprisoned for terrorism, ah'll come by an' visit ya. Ah'll bring a cake."
"Okay. Just remember, I like cream cheese frosting."
"Ah'll make note of it."
***
She sits on the lawn with the boys, the Russian excluded, naturally. They toss a small purple ball from person-to-person, making a casual game of it. St. John is with them, but won't participate, keeping his head down and playing with the individual blades of grass, only making sarcastic comments; he's there strictly for moral support, for Rogue.
"Ya from de South, girl?" Remy asks her as he passes the ball to Fred.
"Brilliant deduction," St. John mutters under his breath so only Rogue can hear. "Since the accents of the American South and Manchester, England are so similar and all."
She suppresses a grin and answers, "Yeah. Mississippi."
"Dat close ta Nawlins."
"Sure. Ah've been there."
"Mebbe ya see me."
"Ah don't think so."
"What, you didn't?" St. John mutters again. "Isn't Gambit in the tourist handbooks, under the listing Cajun Casanova?"
Remy scowls and turns to him for a second. "Ya say somethin', homme?"
"WHAT did you call me?" St. John's voice is suddenly high-pitched and loud.
"He called ya 'homme'," Rogue says gently, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It means 'man."
"Well, jeez," he murmurs, concentrating on the grass again.
"So ANYWAY," Remy says. "Ya like it here, chere?" He scoots a little closer to Rogue.
"It's all right," she answers, and moves away a bit.
"Hey Evan, pass ME the ball," St. John says with a strained smile.
"But it's Rogue's turn!" Evan answers, slightly taken aback by the proposal to break the unspoken rules.
"Pass it to me. I want in."
Evan shrugs and tosses it to him. St. John then throws it to Rogue, who throws it to Remy, and so forth.
The Cajun leans in closer to Rogue again. "An' ya havin' fun?" He's practically purring.
"Um, yeah," she replies, looking away. "As much as possible, anyway."
"Want Remy ta make it more fun?" He raises an eyebrow and grins again.
At that instant, the hard blue ball smacks Remy directly in the face. His eyes widen in surprise and he clamps his hands over his nose, which begins to bleed. He faces St. John and shouts:
"He, he do dat on purpose!!" His face is red with rage.
St. John throws his hands up helplessly. "Jeez, I'm sorry, Rem! I was trying to pass it to Rogue. Maybe you shouldn't've been so close." There is an edge to his last words.
Remy jumps up and screams, pointing a finger at the other boy, "Aw, you gon' get it for dis!" He stalks off to the house, still holding his nose, with Evan and Fred following.
"Ah guess the game's over," Rogue remarks. St. John nods in agreement.
***
That night she wakes up sweating again, and leans her cheek on the coolness of the empty wall against her bed. It takes a while to catch her breath, and tears comes to her eyes. She wants to sigh, but it would hurt too much. Sweating, she leans over to the window and opens it, letting the salty breeze from the ocean drift in.
Downstairs in garden, she sees, stands the lone figure of Pietro, staring up forlornly at her window.
To be continued...
**Author's Note:
Randi - I think the last chapter's scene with Piotr is one of my better works. I'm glad that's what you gathered from all of it, since that's what I intended! Oh, and yeah, I was referring to the July 23 issue of X-Treme.
LotusPen - Grrr, YOU should write a Pyro/Rogue! You'd do a great job! At the moment, though, I just can't, unless you want a delay in this fic...? ;)
Caramia - Fanfiction wins almost every time.
Demonica - Gay guys ARE cool, aren't they? And here's a teeny taste of Rietro for you.
Phoenix - Tsk, leave it to you to figure out something I hadn't thought of...IN MY OWN FIC!! But it's brilliant, nonetheless, the idea that Rogue may know a little Russian herself...I may have to use it to my advantage. (If I can, that is...I've been trying to find some simple Russian words in the English alphabet, but it's almost impossible. All I have is this huge list of dirty words, which were the only things I knew in the first place. Piotr may have some colorful language coming up.)
General notes on Pyro - A couple of people (Darkfire and Randi) pointed out that Pyro doesn't really make fire. Yeah, he just controls it psionically. I had a couple of reasons for changing this, but what it all boils down to is that, in my mind, to keep him a sypathetic character he HAD to create his flame. Don't ask my reasoning here; most likely someone will just find holes in my ideas anyway. On the Gambit situation, I don't think he turned down St. John in the past because, for one, St. John seems shy about his sexuality and wouldn't be likely to hit on anyone,especially a teammate. The more I think of it, the more I think the reason he so dislikes Remy is either one of two reasons: 1) he has an unrequited attraction to him (which I believe was also suggested by a few reviewers), or 2) he's resentful of Gambit's macho womanizing attitude, taking offense to it. Maybe he's even said some offensive things about homosexuals. In this chapter, for instance, Gambit calls St. John 'homme' and Pyro seems to think he's being called something less nice. Of course, Pyro could just be touchy.
Another general note - since a couple people have asked about it, I'm starting an update email list. If you want to know when this fic (or any of my other ones) are updated, give me your email address and I'll put you on it. **