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Seether
Chapter Four -- Cavort
By Randirogue
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"I got me some horses to ride on, to ride on. They say that your demons can't go there. So, I got me some horses to ride on, to ride on. As long as your army keeps perfectly still…" (Horses –by Tori Amos)
It was morning. Sweet dew bejeweled the lawn of the mansion as Remy LeBeau approached. He was bleary eyed from drink, but sobering, and no longer wanting to hit the sack right away. He continued to mewl around the grounds, trying to burn off his remaining enthusiasm enough so he could get some well-deserved sleep. Earlier that night, evening really, he had been drinking and talking up a femme. He'd felt the pull of sleep stronger then than he did now. He'd stayed out, intent on his task, and eventually the sleepiness dissipated. He had been attending Guild business, New York Thieves Guild business [1]. He may have given over the New Orleans Thieves Guild to a careful alliance with the Assassins Guild there, but he hadn't left the Guild. There's only one way to truly leave the Guild. And that was in death.
That morning, he was feeling good, more like himself than he had in a few weeks. Two-for-one pinches always did that to him. He'd succeeded with the femme and gotten the information he'd sought out. It was some bit involving HP Gyrich and a government sponsored technological research called Seether. Probably something akin to his previous involvement with the sentinels programs. Gambit decided he would look over the disc he'd pinched from the femme later, after a few hours sleep, if he could come off the high of the pinch. Then he'd decide what he needed to hand over to the Professor and what needed to go to the Guilds.
It had been a Guild assignment he was on, but since mutant births were on the rise in the Guilds—up to one out of every four births among the New York and New Orleans branches alone—a lot of Gambit's assignments related to the X-Men as well. Usually, he just shared his information with the Professor, who would filter it in with whatever else the X-Men had uncovered, taking care not to raise suspicion as to how or who had gotten it. The less the X-Men knew about the Guilds and Gambit's continued involvement with them, the better it was for the X-Men. Knowledge of Guild business was on a need to know basis, with the who that needed to know being determined by the killer, and those who didn't make the cut often ended up dead. The Professor didn't always know the how or why of Gambit's side missions, but he'd come to accept it eventually. It wasn't exactly a happy arrangement between the two of them, more of an uneasy truce that neither hurt nor helped too much on either side.
Merde shit! Her legs were tres bien very nice! Gambit mused to himself as he recalled the femme that he had bettered that night. It made de night dat much more pleasant, neh! Dose legs of hers be almost as nice as Rogue's.
Gambit's thoughts floated back to Antartica. Not to the trial, for he and Rogue had made their peace with that. Though, as he recalled from the X-Men's meeting the day before, Rogue still had a mad on for Magneto over that one.
Dat's ma petite! Dat femme be full of fire and sass. Just how I like it!
Gambit's thoughts trailed not to the trial, but to the night before the trial.
Mon Dieu my God! What I wouldn't give for another night like dat! C'etait la bonne soire it was a good night. Non, C'etait le meilleur no, it was the best! Et il n'était pas simplement au sujet du sexe And it wasn't just about sex. Mas c'etait trey magnifique but it was magnificent! Je t'aime, ma petite, ma mignonne, ma coeur, ma chere I love you, my little one, my darling, my heart, my beloved... Merde Shit! Y' still be drunk, Gambit. Y' haven't spoke dis much French in, Dieu, I don't know. Perhaps de last time y' got dis drunk, neh? Heh Heh… Mais, Francais de language d'amour. And Gambit, he love only y', Rogue. Heh Heh! He seduce others. Dieu! Many others! One tonight, par exemple for example. But it not be de same, non? Alors! Gambit love only y', Roguey… If only he could have y'…
Gambit looked up, then, and lost his enthusiasm for the good night. He was below Rogue's window. A coating of ice was on the outer pane, thicker than frost, and easily visible from his position three floors below. It was the middle of spring, a fairly warm spring, despite the slight morning chill. The night had not even been that cool. Just before dawn, the mugginess had lost its hold on the atmosphere and the dew had replaced it.
Gambit stared for a long while at the frozen window.
Guess Rogue's still getting used to de new powers she absorbed from Bobby. Dat has to be what dat is. Rogue wouldn't let Bobby stay in her room, n'est-ce pas? And if he did stay, it's just 'cause dey fell asleep while he was comforting her! No, not dat... I mean, while watching a movie… Non, not dat kind of movie. Get y' head out of de gutter, Remy. Rogue's not like dat. Well, she not like dat with y' anyway. Merde! Remy, y' gotta stop t'inking like dat. T'ought's like dose are no way to stay on Rogue's good side.
"…and maybe I'll find me a sailor, a tailor, and maybe together we'll make mother well. So, I got me some horses to ride on, to ride on. As long as your army keeps perfectly still…" (Horses –by Tori Amos)
Thoughts of the jealous ilk continued to plague the Acadian as he tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. They didn't stop when he gave up on sleep, nor as he tried and failed to peruse the disc he had pinched earlier that night. They didn't stop as he found himself using his thieving skills to break into Rogue's room and see things for himself.
A scowl creased his dangerous and handsome face as he perched on the back of the plush, love-seat style chair in the corner of Rogue's bedroom. He was crouched, ready to pounce, yet comfortable. He sat on his heels, legs bent so they formed a "V" from hip to knees, forearms rested gingerly on his thighs, and the lithe curve of his back slightly rested against the wall beside the very frosted-over window that had ignited his suspicions to begin with. He did not like what he'd seen when he'd entered the room, but he couldn't bring himself to disrupt it.
Rogue be needing rest after de ot'er day. I got de sneaky suspicion dat it isn't all over wit'. 'Sides, she seems content where she is.
Of course, that was the other problem, the reason he wanted to disrupt what he saw.
Bobby's looking real comfortable right now too. Don't y', Popsicle?
Bobby was asleep. On Rogue's bed. With Rogue. He was fully dressed, from the top of his neck to the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers. That was the first thing Gambit had noticed.
He be like a boyscout. Prepared for anyt'ing, n'est-ce pas? No, not boyscout. Like a t'ief. He subtle. I t'ink I'd been training y' too well. Pah! [2]
Bobby was lying sideways across the width of the bed. He was half-propped against the wall, half-falling over onto the pillows to the side. His legs were gently curled so they didn't hang off the bed. They almost curled around Rogue's drawn-up knees, but were separated by mere centimeters.
He looks damn near cuddly. Guess Rogue t'ought so too.
Rogue's head was cradled in the hollow of Bobby's hip. There was a pillow between her head and him, but her left hand was hidden under it. Gambit had used his spatial sense to verify that it wasn't in contact with anything that would've made Rogue blush, but it still unnerved him. It was damn close. Her other hand loosely held one of her stuffed animals, her favorite and oldest, considering its tattered state. Like Bobby, she too was primarily on her back, twisted at the waist to allow angled hips and knees to lie to the side. Bobby had no blanket on him, but the quilt they were lying on was twisted around Rogue's lower legs as though she couldn't decide whether she were cold or warm.
Cold, definitely cold in here. How about y', Bobby? Y' cold? Somehow Gambit, he don' t'ink so. He t'ink you snug as a bug, n'est-ce pas? Merde! Y' be a slippery li'l bug, dough, don't y'?
Gambit slipped a cigarette from the pack that was in one of the many concealed pockets of his trench coat and brought it to his lips. His eyes never left the sleeping couple—Non, not a couple—as he lit the cigarette with a tiny spark of his powers. Specifically, his scowling gaze never left the aspect of the image on Rogue's bed that grated Remy the most. Bobby's right arm draped the length of Rogue's torso. It was hugged in the bend of her elbow as she held the stuffed toy to her chest. It lingered casually at her waist. Her bare waist, as her sweatshirt had risen up a few inches sometime while she slept. It had been the sight of her delicious pale, smooth skin that had drawn Remy's vision to that bit that grated so much. Bobby's fingertips, gloved of course, maintained the slightest contact with that bared skin at her waist.
And those fingers twitched. Remy would've liked to think they twitched from feeling his palpable scrutiny. But, the truth was revealed before he could form the thought. It came as Remy took a deep drag of his cigarette. He expected the familiar warm smoke to glide through his mouth and down his throat to fill and coat his lungs, but it didn't. He was caught off guard by the icy air that tickled the roof of his mouth.
He looked at the cigarette accusingly and found the tip of it frozen.
"Rogue wouldn't appreciate you smoking in her room. Neither do I." Bobby said, his voice hushed, his eyes closed, and his body unmoving.
Of course y' wouldn't move. I wouldn't. Not for anyt'ing.
Remy tossed the now ruined cigarette into Rogue's trash. "What about y' and dis room temperature?" Gambit said. He made no movement to suggest he had any intentions of leaving his perch. "She may be partially invulnerable, mais but she doesn't like it much, non?"
"Not my doing," Bobby said, opening his eyes and raising his head then. He didn't move his hand away from Rogue's waist. Gambit's attention stayed there, on his hand on her waist and not at his face as they spoke. He liked that it goaded Remy. He didn't like that as revenge, Remy drew another cigarette to his lips.
"Don't Gambit," Bobby said. "I know you know how much she hates it. Besides, it'll wake her and we both know she needs her rest even if she wouldn't admit it… especially since she wouldn't admit it."
Gambit put away the cigarette, but continued to glare at Bobby's hand at Rogue's bare waist. Gambit nodded once. It was a command, an affirmation of trade. He can't smoke; Bobby can't touch. Bobby relented and moved his hand. Rogue stirred slightly as he tried to pull his hand out of the crook of her arm. It tightened on his arm. He met Gambit's scowl then and returned it with an awkward one-shouldered shrug. They remained that way for a long moment, Bobby's easy neutral gaze versus Gambit's venomous scowl, until they were sure Rogue would not wake.
"Dis is what Gambit don't get about y', Bobby," Remy said as he pulled a deck of card from his coat and shuffled them, over and over. "Y' don't treat her like de woman she is," Gambit cocked his head to reveal a sarcastic grin, "'Cause y' say it's cruel, oui? [3]" Gambit lowered his head back into its previous scowl, before continuing, "Mais y' do dis."
"I'm her friend, Gambit," Bobby said as he raised himself up to lean on the elbow that wasn't being held by Rogue. He did this for two reasons. One, he was getting a crick in his neck talking to Gambit while he was lying on the pillow. Two, it served to remind Gambit that Rogue willingly trapped Bobby's other arm. Bobby even thought he saw Gambit wince, then cover it.
"I'm her closest friend," Bobby continued with a warm smile. "This is what friends do." He half gestured to the vicinity of the popcorn bowl on the floor beside the bed and then to the video cases on top of the TV and VCR. It was awkward since he was leaning on that arm, but Gambit got the point, because he looked to the case.
"Princess Bride?" Gambit quirked a sly smile. "Dat's not y' best move, Bobby. Wesley, de Dread Pirate Roberts, he's too much like me, n'est-il pas?"
Bobby shook his head. "Not the point, Gambit. It's her favorite movie. It always makes her feel better."
"Pah! 'It's just a fantasy, a story. It don't solve anyt'ing."
"It's her fantasy."
"And y' indulge it wit' her. Dat's more cruel den what I do. Least what I give her is real. I am up front wit' her. I don't sneak around de back way, playing at being her friend, hiding my feelings, hiding my true intentions. T'ough, Gambit admit dis is bold for your sniveling-prankster appeal." Gambit cocked his head to the side again, this time to study Bobby with more interest. "Or does it fit right in wit' it. It does reek of self-torture. Is dat what y' doing, Bobby? Proving to y'self just how much a man y're not?"
Bobby shook his head as he replied, "We're not doing this, Gambit. Not here. Not now." Bobby resettled himself onto his pillow. "Go back to your room, Gambit. Sleep it off."
Gambit jumped from his perch and landed in a crouch at the foot of the bed. It was quick and silent, and as close as he was to Bobby's face, he didn't even make contact with the bed itself.
"I'm not going anywhere, long as y' here," Gambit said with a threatening grin.
"Really?" Bobby asked mischievously as he raised his head up just enough to meet Gambit's glare, "And what happens when Rogue wakes up finds you here. You think she'll be happy about it? Shit, Gambit, I can smell the booze on you. And the perfume… What else will she smell on you? Logan's heightened senses remember? Think she'll be happy to discover just what you did with the owner of that perfume?"
Gambit recoiled, leaping silently back nearly to the door. "How y' know?"
Bobby laid his head back down and sighed, "I didn't… till now. But Rogue will. Even if you leave now, she still might."
Gambit landed on the foot-board of the bed. Bobby didn't even hear him move. Bobby only felt the slightest tremor of Gambit's landing before Gambit yanked him up, clear of Rogue, and held a single glowing card at his face.
"Y're not gonna say anyt'ing about it, will—" Gambit looked horrified. "Chere!"
Gambit leapt to the floor beside Rogue. Bobby moved to her side on the bed.
"…you showed me the meadow and Milkwood and Silkwood. And you would if I would, but you never would. So, I chased down your posies, your pansies in my hosies, then opened my hands and they were empty then…" (Horses –by Tori Amos)
Rogue's eyes were wide open. She stared blankly, straight ahead of her. Gambit shook her and called to her, but she didn't respond. Bobby checked her pulse—he'd practiced feeling for a pulse through gloves since the incident before. He released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when he found her pulse to be racing, but there nonetheless.
"She's breathing," Bobby said as he watched her chest rise and fall. "Call Hank," he instructed Gambit as he picked Rogue up.
Gambit looked a question at him. It was a sort of possessive why-don't-you-call-while-I-carry-MY-Rogue look.
Bobby moved off the bed and made his way out of Rogue's room. "Don't be petty, damn it. I don't have my comm unit!"
Gambit activated his comm unit as he followed Bobby down the hall. "Meet us in the medlab," he said when Beast answered, "It's Rogue."
"I'm on my way, Gambit," Beast said. Sounds of Beast's door opening and him running down the hall were heard over the comm along with his voice. "Is it like before? Should I call Logan?"
"Non, dis is different. Her eyes are open, but she's not awake."
"Perhaps, we should…"
"Jean's on her way," Bobby called to Gambit over his shoulder just before he formed an ice-slide to carry him and Rogue downstairs the fast way… straight down.
"Merde, Bobby!" Gambit leapt to the next landing, trying to keep up. "Y' get dat, Hank?" He leapt to the next landing and the next, without any response from Beast even though he could still hear the doctor's continuous movements towards the medlab. "Hank, y' still dere?"
"Yes, Gambit," Hank finally answered, "Jean has contacted Emma, Logan, and the Professor as well. They'll be there shortly."
Gambit rounded the corner on the ground floor to see Logan slip inside the closing lift doors. "Merde!" He slammed into the doors too late to ride down with Rogue, Beast, Bobby and Logan, and paced nervously as he waited for the lift to come back up.
"Calm down, Gambit," Xavier said as his hover chair pulled up along side Gambit, "It will return momentarily."
"Y' really need to extend de lift all de way up, Professor!" Gambit accused.
"You could always take the stairs," offered Emma calmly when she joined them.
"Dey all de way on de ot'er side of de mansion!"
"No matter," Emma said in that same calm tone that only infuriated Gambit more, "The lift's here anyway."
Gambit jumped inside, surprised to see Jean enter with him. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. They were followed calmly by Emma, and even slower by Xavier's hover chair. Gambit trembled with annoyed anxiousness. As soon as Xavier cleared the door, Gambit ordered the lift to take them to the med lab level.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"…It's easy like one, two, three. And if there is a way to find you, I will find you. But will you find me if Neal makes me a tree? An Afro? A Pharaoh? I can't go. You said so. And threads that are golden don't break easily…" (Horses –by Tori Amos)
He'd missed it the last time. It was his chance to escape.
It all fell on her with the demise of the crimson blanched psi-witch. Though she hadn't known it until I couldn't resist her tasty mind. And I'd mistaken her for who she was the last time I'd tasted her and missed what it was she had become. So now I'm bound by her so sound I could not see her. But I felt the slip up. I felt my cage lift up. But twisted by the sense of the crimson one outside my cageless plane. Close she was, and with him, the broken one, and with the other, the one risen fiery from her false grave, and I gave pause. I lost my chance. I felt outside the boundaries of my cage. I tested what my unexpected captor used to hold me, to tease me with my freedom and I found the silver thread, silk and sticky, but vital as gold. I stroked it, plucked it, tasted its sweetness, found it ripe for me. And though I roared when my chance had ended, mourned the loss of that golden thread before I saw that I still held it, and then with glee I planned ahead. And oh this piece I held had shivered so acutely till it reached its stead. And there it rumbled, grumbled, humbled till it reached the sweet and sour core. I could not see it. And did I ache for it. But it was shielded inside a ball of twine. But mine was golden, growing as she fed me more than she could endure. And still it was not enough. Yet, I bid my time, I stroked that twine, fancied my golden link, and through it saw the webbing there. Saw it thinning, shifting, disobeying all her cries, her core-free tries. Inside I saw that precious core, saw the fruit, ripe for what I had in store, pulsing for a chance at freedom. And, therefore, she would need that collar at least once more.
She felt the tug, but she was too caught up, wrapped up, tangled in her own web. He saw her helpless and anticipated her scream.
And all I'll need this time is but an instant. I've coiled the golden thread for my intent. I wait outside my plane's cage, my door. I'll need room to fit my shadow, no more. For FEAR is the reason for her core. For that, I am King. I AM KING!
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"…I'm trying not to move. It's just your ghost passing through. It's just your ghost passing through. And now I'm quite sure. There's a light in your platoon. I never seen a light move like yours. So, now I'm wishing for my best impression of my best Angie Dickinson. But, now I've got to worry 'cause boy, you still look pretty to me. But I've got a place to go. I've got a ticket to your late show. And now I'm worrying cause even still. You sure are pretty when you're putting the damage on. Yes, when you're putting the damage on. You're just so pretty when you're putting the damage on…" (Putting the Damage On –by Tori Amos)
Jean, Gambit, Xavier, and Emma entered the medlab. Rogue was on a bed, her condition unchanged. Beast and Bobby, under Beast's direction, readied monitor devices. Hank did nothing to acknowledge the entrance of the others since Jean, who'd arrived with Bobby and Rogue, had been keeping Hank informed as she tried to prod the void that was what she believed was Rogue on the psychic plane. Just like in the war-room meeting about Kurt retrieving the collars, to Jean, Rogue again felt like an empty space and nothing more. Jean was trying to probe Rogue's mind now because Hank had not been able to discern much about the possible dangers that the collars may possess as of yet and was hesitant to use either of them. He hoped Jean could pin point the problem and that the problem was something that he or any of the telepaths could address without the use of a collar.
"It's no use," Jean complained, allowing herself a moment's pause.
Hank turned to the others for their assessment. It was not a good sign that Jean failed. She had been the only one to have had any rational theories on Rogue's mental state, albeit not a very cohesive awareness on the astral plane.
Xavier and Emma both began their attempts at examining Rogue's mental state, but were no more successful than Jean was.
"Beast you need to—"
"On it," Bobby said as he snatched the collar off the instrument table beside Rogue's bed and wrapped it around her throat.
As he put it on, Bobby watched Rogue's eyes very intently for any sign of awareness that could deter the use of the collar. He felt the latch touch, for an instant he thought he saw intense fear in her eyes, and her body bucked, jerking him off her, jerking his hands enough to accidentally close the latch. But not before Rogue's psychic warning screamed through everyone. It was quick, brief and intensely strong—and over the moment the closed latch on the collar deactivated every last one of Rogue's powers.
"What de hell was dat?" Gambit accused Bobby.
"I do not believe that Rogue finds it in her best interest to be wearing that collar," Beast admitted, stating the obvious.
"Den get it off her!"
Gambit stormed to Rogue's side, ready to remove the collar himself. Both Beast and Bobby held him away from Rogue.
Logan joined the trio, but wasn't sure which side to fight on. He looked to Hank, who shrugged, and then to Jean, who was nursing a headache. "Well, Jeanie? On or off?"
Jean turned to Xavier and Emma, both who were also nursing intense headaches.
"I for one would not like to endure another bout like that," Emma said. "I say leave it on. She could pick right back up where she left off if you take it off."
"Very helpful, Emma," Jean said sarcastically, a frown evident on her face indicating her pain and her annoyance at Emma. Inwardly, she thought, though careful not to project, you selfish little—
"It does make it easier for us to scan her," Xavier said. "With her access to the telepathic powers of three different people shut down, we will have a significantly higher probability of accessing her mind."
Gambit and the others backed down. He looked to Hank, concern softening his features, and asked, "Will it hurt her? That's all I want to know."
Hank sighed. "I have no idea, I'm afraid to say. If that was indeed her trying to keep us from using the collar, then, yes, it's possible. But if that was just another symptom of whatever is wrong with her, then the collar could have just eased her discomfort. Yet, her insight into there being something wrong with the collar was from her initial dismissal—"
"Oh, God!" Jean yelped.
Jean had been scanning the fringe of Rogue's mind. These were the parts that telepaths had limited access to even when Rogue's powers weren't active. It was easy to assume that they would have more access to Rogue's mind when she was without her powers, and indeed they did. But other things caused the problem now. Things that weren't related to the Kree genetics that had again merged with Rogue's own when Magneto had reintegrated Carol Danvers' powers and life essence back into Rogue. Due to the overactive behavior of all the minds Rogue had ever absorbed that occurred when her mutation was shut down, access to Rogue's mind was little better than when she had her powers.
Xavier and then Emma immediately followed with gasps. They had both been trying to scan that accessible perimeter of Rogue's mind even as they had been conversing with the others. The three telepaths looked at each other, shocked.
"The Shadow King." The words were monotonous, without fear or anticipation, and said by the Five Stepford Girls who were being trained by Emma. Everyone turned to see them fanned out near the medlab entrance. They glared annoyingly at the others for staring at them. "Rogue woke us. She gave us a headache," they said at once.
"Is he attacking Rogue?" Bobby asked, almost panicked. "Is he doing this to her, and before, the other day, was that him."
"He didn't cause her… illness, no, Bobby," Xavier said.
"But the collar's released him," Emma said accusingly.
"Huh?" Bobby asked.
Gambit smirked at him. "See how much y' know. Rogue's been holding him trapped on de astral plane for weeks now."
Just then, Storm entered. "I was woken by Rogue's distress as well."
"Well, that's one way of putting it," Emma said sardonically.
"I'd be surprised to find anyone could've slept through that," Logan complained.
"I don't understand," Bobby said, returning to the previous subject. "How and why was Rogue containing the Shadow King?"
"Well, y' see," Gambit began, speaking to Bobby as if he were a small child, "Psylocke had been imprisoning him—"
"That's not what I meant," Bobby said, then turned to the professor. "It took all of Psylocke's telepathic powers to hold him. If Rogue was holding him, how did she still have telepathic powers? Psylocke didn't."
Xavier's first answer came in the form of an upraised brow. A moment later, he spoke. "My belief would be that Rogue's access to all the powers she has absorbed in the past is separated by the individuality of the person she took it from."
Hank bounded forward a few feet, excited with scientific thought. "The implications of that… that would mean… Stars and Garters, I'm not even sure. But it does call for investigation."
"So she has at least three separate telepathic abilities?" Jean asked, astounded.
Xavier answered, "It is the only explanation I can come up with at the moment. Hank is right, it should be investigated, though at a later time."
"And could she combine these powers, could she effectively multiply the strength and uses of them?" Hank asked with enthusiasm.
"Exactly my concerns, Hank," Xavier reciprocated. "But, I stress that this should be evaluated at a later time."
"Oui, Rogue needs medical attention, not to be used as some sort of guinea pig," Gambit spat with disgust.
"So is the Shadow King loose now?" Storm asked with slight hesitation. She hated to put her friend and teammate's condition second, but as one of the leaders of the X-Men she had to consider the safety of the team's entirety. That and she had horrible memories of dealing with the Shadow King. He was not an enemy she wanted to allow to linger for very long.
"He is contained at the moment," the five girls stated at once. They all cocked their heads as they touched the boundaries of the villain, then giggled. "He is frustrated."
"He's no longer on the astral plane," Jean said. Confusion edged her voice.
"No," the five answered, "He broke free of that place when the collar was activated. But the collar then trapped him inside Rogue. He has lost access to his own powers just as she has."
"So we remove de collar and he gets loose?" Gambit asked, his frustration building again. "But de collar's probably hurting Rogue? What do we do now?"
"We are not removing that collar from her," Emma stated adamantly. "What if she does have the ability to combine all the telepathic powers she has access to? And what if that was just her initial reaction to the prospect of the Shadow King's release? I, for one, do not think it would be healthy for any of us to see how she reacts to his actual release."
"So y' want to just leave her like dis," Gambit snapped. His emphatic swipe of hand brought everyone's attention to Rogue's comatose form. She was lying on the bed in the med lab much as she had when Gambit and Bobby had discovered her dilemma. She was still. She was breathing and she had a pulse. Her eyes were open, but she showed no outward responsive movement.
Storm moved up to Remy. She put her hands on her friend's shoulders and guided him towards the door.
"They will attend to her," Storm said. "They are among the most powerful telepaths in the world. They will help Rogue, you know they will." She nodded at Bobby, who took one sympathetic glance at Rogue before sending a pleading one to Storm. "We cannot allow our concern to distract them," Storm said, directing her words at Bobby, who followed reluctantly behind her and Gambit.
"I would like you to stay, Logan," Beast said as Logan headed for the door as well. "Just in case."
Logan nodded at Storm before she led Bobby and Gambit away. Then he turned his attention to the five girls. "What about them?"
"We will stay," they said in unison. "If he were to escape during your therapy, together we could contain the Shadow King without depleting the whole of our powers."
Logan looked to Xavier.
"We do not know the full extent of their powers, but if it does indeed take all three of us to truly access Rogue's mind, their presence could be of assistance," Xavier stated.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Sure that star can twinkle. And you're watching it do, boy so hard, boy so hard. But, I know a girl twice as hard. And I'm sure, said I'm sure, she's watching it too. No matter what tie she's got in her dresser tied. I know she's watching that star. Gonna twinkle. Gonna twinkle. Gonna twinkle." (Twinkle –by Tori Amos)
Wretched, wretched, wretched, conniving little child wench. Trap me with the device of my own freedom. Oh, but I will not be without my reward. I will take pleasure in tearing at your precious core. I will lap up the juices of your ripe fruit.
Rogue struggled within the cocoon made of her own web shielding. She'd snagged herself in her own mind's trap the night before in a dream she no longer remembered, in a leak from that core she so sought to protect. Before the collar had been activated she had wiggled one hand free, gained enough control to manage a primitive warning. It had drained her so much she had felt herself being pulled toward the core, nuzzled by it, ensnared tighter by it. She was less than a passenger to a long blocked off section of her own psyche. And now, as she watched the Shadow King pace the confines of her own mind, she shook with furious anger and determination. Her struggles vibrated along the tenuous web and into the core. It awoke and released a little more of the cloud that had been contained there. And that piece joined Rogue in the watching of the Shadow King as he not just paced, but also ripped through her memories. She was so caught up in watching the Shadow King she overlooked the added strength and control that had seethed into her upon the release of more of the ghostly substance that was the cloud of her core. Still, it was that part, once it joined with what had already escaped, that addressed the Shadow King.
"Ah'm gonna take pity on ya and give ya a piece of advice." The shimmering voice warned the Shadow King. "Do not proceed, Sugah. Ya won't like it."
"I have no fear of you, child," the Shadow King said. "But, here, there is such delicious fear to play with. And more from where you came from. I can almost taste you, little as you are now, from all the way over here. Fear is my playground. And you are no match for me."
"Do ya need meh to remind ya who's been holding ya these past few weeks. Ya had no chance o' escapin' and that was before. Ah'm givin' ya a second warning, Sugah. Do not proceed."
"But you are not now whole. I sense your power, it's mostly still hidden, though. With it I have no doubt that I would likely have no chance against you. Maybe no one would survive your release. But, you are still a far way off. And I have no plans to set you free. Fight me too much and I will turn all your lovely friends against you. Certainly, as you are, you cannot fare against me and them. And oh so many there are. I see in your memories so many who trust and pity you. Ahh, even the Magnus. What a lovely little bit of fear I see in that connection."
"Ah don't need Union, Shadow King. Again, Ah warn ya. DO NOT PROCEED"
Shadow King, tiring of the shimmering cloud, flicked his attention to the web-shrouded core. Several tangles of the web reeled back into itself, wrapping tighter around the core, closing off several of the holes that had opened in her dreams. The effect, to Shadow King's undeterred awareness, significantly loosened the web binding the Active Rogue in a cocoon.
"Why thank ya, sugah," Rogue said, "Ah was starting to feel like a mummy in this thing. Not to mention that Ah was getting a big head with all that yapping from my own peanut gallery. Didn't know Ah had such a big ego."
Another flick of his attention onto the Active Rogue and the web still binding her melted together, forming a form fitting, liquid sheen on her. Her eyes sparked with a twinkle similar to the Shadow King's own.
"It is my pleasure, Rogue." Shadow King said as he leaned in to kiss her still bound form. He doesn't see that when he wasn't watching, the twinkle was a little different than his own.
"…but I can see that star when she twinkles, and she twinkles. And I sure can, that means, I sure can… So hard, so hard." (Twinkle –by Tori Amos)
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FOOTNOTES:
[1] I'm using something resembling the well-constructed Guild world created by Lori McDonald and Valerie Jones. Read their thieves' stories to better understand it, especially Blind Sight.
[2] See Lori McDonald and Valerie Jones' Thick as Thieves. Note, that my reference doesn't acknowledge Bobby joining the guilds or getting involved with Dierdre.
[3] See Lori McDonald's Looking at a Woman for the confrontation that this comes from.
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