"Why did'n' ya say 'nything?" Rogue asks in a whisper, arms wrapped securely around her knees.
Piotr stares at her silently, his gentle eyes filled with pain and concern.
"Ah mean, ya just let me talk on an' on lahk some IDIOT. It's lahk ya TRICKED me."
He watches her, head cocked, carefully following what she is saying.
"Why for? Ya reportin' everything ah say ta Magneto?"
His head snaps up, and he shakes it vigorously.
"Net!"
"What's that mean?"
"Net," he repeats, then pauses, considering it. "No," he says finally, in his thick voice. "No, I am not."
"Then why?"
Piotr goes silent again for a long time, and Rogue realizes that it must take him some time to think about just what she is saying, to form the question into his own language, answer it, then translate a response. She thinks about how it would be if the situation were reversed and everyone was speaking Russian around her, and through her anger she finds compassion for her friend.
"I don't...like them. If I cannot...speak to them, they do not speak to me," he finally says.
"Who?"
"Magneto..Sabertooth...the others. I don't LIKE them."
"Why be a parta this team if ya don' lahk 'em?"
His brow is furrowed, eyes darting about quickly as he processes this.
"My sister Illyana. She is..."
He makes a small sound of irritation and holds his hand to his chest.
"She hurts. Inside."
Rogue sighs.
"Ya mean she's sick?"
Piotr nods, relief flooding his face.
"Yes. He pays."
Rogue does not need to ask who 'he' is, nor for what he pays.
"Okay," she starts slowly. "So ya're in this team 'cause Magneto pays fer ya sister's treatment. Ya don' talk 'cause ya don' lahk any of 'em."
He nods.
"Ya knew English the whole time?"
He shakes his head slowly.
"Ya learned?"
He nods.
She can't help but be impressed that he was able to pick up this much of the language just be observation. Then again, she really doesn't know how long he's been here.
"Then..." She hesitates. "Then why didn' ya tell me?"
Inside she already knows the answer. Piotr didn't know her when she first arrived. There had been no guarantee that she could be trusted. When it had become clear that she was honestly a friend, how could he tell her that he'd been deceiving her all this time? Of course she wouldn't understand. Yet, somehow, she does.
If Rogue could have tricked everyone into not talking to her when she first arrived, she would have.
Piotr smiles slowly.
"Because I don't like YOU," he answers thickly, but his rueful tone and grin assure her that he's teasing.
She's hugging him before either of the two realizes it.
* * *
"Connect Four!" Fred cries triumphantly, pointing a meaty finger at the game.
Remy stares at the upright gameboard in disbelief, eyes searching through the red and black game pieces for proof.
"Non..." he mutters. "Where?"
"Right there!"
Fred points to a diagonal connection of his four black checkers.
"Non!" Remy groans, then pauses. "Oh, diagonal don' count."
"What?!"
"In de rules, mon ami. Gotta be horizontal or vertical."
"Lemme see 'em then!"
"Lost 'em. Sorry."
Fred looks around wildly before his eyes latch onto Evan.
"Evan, is that true? Diagonals don't count?"
Across the dining room table, Evan hesitates, then shrugs.
"I don't know, man. I don't know the rules that good. I THINK they count."
Fred turns back to Remy.
"He THINKS..."
"Thinkin' ain't good enough."
Fred starts to refute this, then sighs heavily.
"Let's just keep goin' with this game."
Remy nods. Carefully, he drops a red checker into a slot. Fred picks up a black one and does the same, then lifts his arms into the air excitedly.
"Connect Four!"
"Non!"
Fred points to a horizontal row of black pieces. He grins from ear to ear.
"Oh, ah forgot. Horizontal don' count either."
"WHAT?!"
From the corner, Rogue shifts in her chair, stifling laughter.
* * *
Outside, Rogue sits with Mr. McCoy in comfortable silence. There are crickets around, chirping idly, even though the sky is only barely starting to darken around the edges. A chill breeze blows in from the sea, and she pulls her coat tightly around her body, shivering. Mr. McCoy, protected by his thick blue hide, is unaffected.
It's nice to sit here with him, she thinks. Of all of them, he seems to be the only one who really hasn't changed too much. The only one to eschew the possibility of new friendship with their captors. The only one, probably, who didn't feel like a traitor to the X-Men.
"So, you're friends with that Russian boy?" he asks suddenly, as if reading her mind.
She blushes.
"Uh, yeah. He seems real nahce."
"Yes, he does."
There is silence again. It feels awkward, but Rogue does not know why. A few minutes go by.
"I need to tell you something," Mr. McCoy says when he finally speaks again, in a voice that is barely a whisper.
She blinks, startled by the urgency in his voice.
"What?"
"You see that post over there?"
She follows his gaze.
"Yeah."
"That's one of the boundaries for the forcefield."
"Ya told me."
"I know. But that one's important. That's our ticket out of here."
To be continued...
*** Long Author's Note:
Phoenix - Is a Rogue/Piotr hug good enough?
Randi - I'll just call you Sherlock Holmes. ;)
archmagus - Magneto's at Taco Bell. Naw, I dunno. Doing important stuff, I suppose.
Shadow - Thank you for the compliments and the offer of help! Yeah, me no so good at this use of other language stuff. I'd hoped that Russian would be difficult enough that no one would catch mistakes, but you proved that hope false! Curse you! Not really.
evolutionary spider - I hope Piotr's explanation is good enough for you, and everyone else.
J. Dax - I LIVE for Remy bashing.
kitana - Any sort of sports season is hell at my house, so I can relate. My brothers and father love all sports, and I hate all. It's hard to compromise. But I was also blessed with a dad and little bro who watch Evo with me. See how conflicted I am?
blue - Why thanks! *blush*
(I wanted to individually comment on more of these, but I spontaneously feel giddy and restless...I must skip ahead. Sorry guys.)
Okay. I suck. I know I suck. I feel absolutely wretched for just letting my little epic linger on, not quite dying, but certainly not progressing. I am a terrible, irresponsible writer, and I deserve none of you awesome people who might still care about this fic and give me such wonderful reviews. However, having time to focus on school gave me a 4.0 for my first year of college! When I am a famous archaeologist, perhaps I will discover a temple complex and name it the SBS (Something Beyond Seeing) Ziggurat or whatever. In honor of you guys. Not me. Well, maybe me too, but just a little.
In order to beg forgiveness, I went on with the Explanation, and then did what a lot of people have asked for - a glimpse of Remy, Evan, and Fred. Then I threw in some Hank too, because it leads yet ANOTHER cliffhanger that'll aid the next chapter. Which WILL happen this month. If it doesn't, I give any reader in the Orange County or Los Angeles, CA area to come to my home and beat the living crap out of me. Then I will give him/her a Red Cross apron.
Thank you, all who were so kind as to badger me, insult me, and guilt me into writing again. I appreciate it immensely.
Piotr stares at her silently, his gentle eyes filled with pain and concern.
"Ah mean, ya just let me talk on an' on lahk some IDIOT. It's lahk ya TRICKED me."
He watches her, head cocked, carefully following what she is saying.
"Why for? Ya reportin' everything ah say ta Magneto?"
His head snaps up, and he shakes it vigorously.
"Net!"
"What's that mean?"
"Net," he repeats, then pauses, considering it. "No," he says finally, in his thick voice. "No, I am not."
"Then why?"
Piotr goes silent again for a long time, and Rogue realizes that it must take him some time to think about just what she is saying, to form the question into his own language, answer it, then translate a response. She thinks about how it would be if the situation were reversed and everyone was speaking Russian around her, and through her anger she finds compassion for her friend.
"I don't...like them. If I cannot...speak to them, they do not speak to me," he finally says.
"Who?"
"Magneto..Sabertooth...the others. I don't LIKE them."
"Why be a parta this team if ya don' lahk 'em?"
His brow is furrowed, eyes darting about quickly as he processes this.
"My sister Illyana. She is..."
He makes a small sound of irritation and holds his hand to his chest.
"She hurts. Inside."
Rogue sighs.
"Ya mean she's sick?"
Piotr nods, relief flooding his face.
"Yes. He pays."
Rogue does not need to ask who 'he' is, nor for what he pays.
"Okay," she starts slowly. "So ya're in this team 'cause Magneto pays fer ya sister's treatment. Ya don' talk 'cause ya don' lahk any of 'em."
He nods.
"Ya knew English the whole time?"
He shakes his head slowly.
"Ya learned?"
He nods.
She can't help but be impressed that he was able to pick up this much of the language just be observation. Then again, she really doesn't know how long he's been here.
"Then..." She hesitates. "Then why didn' ya tell me?"
Inside she already knows the answer. Piotr didn't know her when she first arrived. There had been no guarantee that she could be trusted. When it had become clear that she was honestly a friend, how could he tell her that he'd been deceiving her all this time? Of course she wouldn't understand. Yet, somehow, she does.
If Rogue could have tricked everyone into not talking to her when she first arrived, she would have.
Piotr smiles slowly.
"Because I don't like YOU," he answers thickly, but his rueful tone and grin assure her that he's teasing.
She's hugging him before either of the two realizes it.
* * *
"Connect Four!" Fred cries triumphantly, pointing a meaty finger at the game.
Remy stares at the upright gameboard in disbelief, eyes searching through the red and black game pieces for proof.
"Non..." he mutters. "Where?"
"Right there!"
Fred points to a diagonal connection of his four black checkers.
"Non!" Remy groans, then pauses. "Oh, diagonal don' count."
"What?!"
"In de rules, mon ami. Gotta be horizontal or vertical."
"Lemme see 'em then!"
"Lost 'em. Sorry."
Fred looks around wildly before his eyes latch onto Evan.
"Evan, is that true? Diagonals don't count?"
Across the dining room table, Evan hesitates, then shrugs.
"I don't know, man. I don't know the rules that good. I THINK they count."
Fred turns back to Remy.
"He THINKS..."
"Thinkin' ain't good enough."
Fred starts to refute this, then sighs heavily.
"Let's just keep goin' with this game."
Remy nods. Carefully, he drops a red checker into a slot. Fred picks up a black one and does the same, then lifts his arms into the air excitedly.
"Connect Four!"
"Non!"
Fred points to a horizontal row of black pieces. He grins from ear to ear.
"Oh, ah forgot. Horizontal don' count either."
"WHAT?!"
From the corner, Rogue shifts in her chair, stifling laughter.
* * *
Outside, Rogue sits with Mr. McCoy in comfortable silence. There are crickets around, chirping idly, even though the sky is only barely starting to darken around the edges. A chill breeze blows in from the sea, and she pulls her coat tightly around her body, shivering. Mr. McCoy, protected by his thick blue hide, is unaffected.
It's nice to sit here with him, she thinks. Of all of them, he seems to be the only one who really hasn't changed too much. The only one to eschew the possibility of new friendship with their captors. The only one, probably, who didn't feel like a traitor to the X-Men.
"So, you're friends with that Russian boy?" he asks suddenly, as if reading her mind.
She blushes.
"Uh, yeah. He seems real nahce."
"Yes, he does."
There is silence again. It feels awkward, but Rogue does not know why. A few minutes go by.
"I need to tell you something," Mr. McCoy says when he finally speaks again, in a voice that is barely a whisper.
She blinks, startled by the urgency in his voice.
"What?"
"You see that post over there?"
She follows his gaze.
"Yeah."
"That's one of the boundaries for the forcefield."
"Ya told me."
"I know. But that one's important. That's our ticket out of here."
To be continued...
*** Long Author's Note:
Phoenix - Is a Rogue/Piotr hug good enough?
Randi - I'll just call you Sherlock Holmes. ;)
archmagus - Magneto's at Taco Bell. Naw, I dunno. Doing important stuff, I suppose.
Shadow - Thank you for the compliments and the offer of help! Yeah, me no so good at this use of other language stuff. I'd hoped that Russian would be difficult enough that no one would catch mistakes, but you proved that hope false! Curse you! Not really.
evolutionary spider - I hope Piotr's explanation is good enough for you, and everyone else.
J. Dax - I LIVE for Remy bashing.
kitana - Any sort of sports season is hell at my house, so I can relate. My brothers and father love all sports, and I hate all. It's hard to compromise. But I was also blessed with a dad and little bro who watch Evo with me. See how conflicted I am?
blue - Why thanks! *blush*
(I wanted to individually comment on more of these, but I spontaneously feel giddy and restless...I must skip ahead. Sorry guys.)
Okay. I suck. I know I suck. I feel absolutely wretched for just letting my little epic linger on, not quite dying, but certainly not progressing. I am a terrible, irresponsible writer, and I deserve none of you awesome people who might still care about this fic and give me such wonderful reviews. However, having time to focus on school gave me a 4.0 for my first year of college! When I am a famous archaeologist, perhaps I will discover a temple complex and name it the SBS (Something Beyond Seeing) Ziggurat or whatever. In honor of you guys. Not me. Well, maybe me too, but just a little.
In order to beg forgiveness, I went on with the Explanation, and then did what a lot of people have asked for - a glimpse of Remy, Evan, and Fred. Then I threw in some Hank too, because it leads yet ANOTHER cliffhanger that'll aid the next chapter. Which WILL happen this month. If it doesn't, I give any reader in the Orange County or Los Angeles, CA area to come to my home and beat the living crap out of me. Then I will give him/her a Red Cross apron.
Thank you, all who were so kind as to badger me, insult me, and guilt me into writing again. I appreciate it immensely.