"Yo, Rogue!" yelled Todd as he hopped painfully obviously over to Rogue's locker.
She winced at his lack of effort at concealing his abilities and hissed, "What is it?"
"The X-Geeks have a new stooge on their side, wanna go check it out?"
"What for? You've already seen 'em."
"I meant for you to see 'em, Rogue," said Todd, leaning against the lockers.
Rogue slammed her locker. "They're all the same." Rogue hadn't actually told any of the Brotherhood boys that the X-Men had tried to kill her back in Caldecot County. She knew they'd probably do something stupid, like go and pick a fight with them on her behalf. As if she couldn't fight her own battles.
Things were almost back to normal with the boys. They seemed to have grudgingly forgiven her for her betrayal, and Rogue knew she could never pull a stunt like that again. Not if she wanted to finish high school with all her limbs. Next time Ah'm faced with that sorta situation, she told herself firmly, Ah'm just gonna be a good Brotherhood chick, go "Hellyeah." and lend a hand at kickin' th' X-Men's asses. Yeah.
She had settled into a comfortable little routine with each of the boys, and particularly with Mystique. Mystique was the only Brotherhood member she was really bothered about. In her Darkholme guise, she drove Rogue to school every morning. Whenever they ran into each other at home, they'd talk. It was strange to Rogue how Mystique spoke to her at the same time as if she were an adult, but also with a kind of affection and respect.
Todd shrugged. "Well, it's a black kid. Freshman. Name's Daniels."
Rogue rolled her eyes at the vague description. "And who told ya he was one of th' X-Men?" asked Rogue curiously.
"Nobody. I just put two an' two together when I saw all them."
"Ah doubt you'd be able to add even that, Toad," said Rogue nastily. "Ah think Ah'm gonna pass on goin' to English- class is full of geeks anyhow."
"OK. Gettin' a ride home with us?"
"Duh, Ah'm hardly walkin' all that way. If Ah'm not there when all of ya are, tell 'em Ah'm just comin'. And don't ya dare get slime on mah seat in the Jeep, Todd. Ah'll see ya later." Rogue waved jauntily and moved off.
There weren't really many interesting places to skip class at Bayville High, so Rogue usually spent what classes she ditched in the girls' bathroom. Rogue had been ditching as many English classes as possible. It wasn't because she was scared of Summers or anything. No, she just couldn't handle the excess losers in her class. The Loser, the Poser, the Ditz, the Loser's sappy new girlfriend Pinky Edmond and Summers all in the one class? Forget it.
Rogue ducked into the start of class to answer to her name at the roll. Then after five minutes she put up her hand and asked if she could be excused to use the bathroom. She tried her best to look pale (not too difficult given the huge amounts of makeup she wore) and ill, as if she had very bad cramps. The teacher gave her a very dubious look, but when Rogue gave a small groan as if she were seconds from throwing up he finally sighed and allowed her to go.
As Rogue got up and busily arranged her things to hide her notebook, which was dense with her writing, she made brief eye contact with Summers. Smirking rather wickedly at his disapproving look, she gave him a single disconcerting wink as she left the room, still pulling her 'pale and ill' impersonation. God, she thought, slightly perturbed. Where the hell'd that come from? Who am Ah again, a hooker?
Still, Ah love gettin' Summers all incensed. Ah love seein' that fantastic expression on his face when he sees Ah'm doin' something bad, even if it's just somethin' little like skippin' English. He's such a goody-good he practically hyperventilates when he sees me struttin' outta class all nonchalant-like. And Ah love doin' it to him. Ah love messin' with his mind. It's only fair Ah should get to pay him back for what his group did to me, after all. Rogue grinned as she walked down the hallway and swerved smoothly into the girls' bathroom.
She spent the next twenty minutes in the girls' bathroom, just sitting on the sinks and ducking into a stall whenever she heard anyone come along. Rogue was taken quite by surprise when the door opened and a boy stuck his head inside the room. Seeing Rogue, he mumbled something (looking rather alarmed) and tried to make a hasty escape.
"Hey!" she yelled, sliding off the sinks onto her feet and rushing after him. "Hey, kid!"
He turned around, looking rather uncomfortable. "I- they don't make the door signs that clear here, do they?"
"That's convincin'," Rogue snorted. "Ah'll let it slide just this once, but this is the girls' bathroom, if ya don't mind."
The boy sighed. "I'm new. I didn't know, I'm sorry."
"Fine, then. So, why're ya out durin' class?"
"I was trying to find the guys' bathroom."
Rogue raised her eyebrows. "And you were takin' a well-deserved break from this hellhole?"
The boy grinned rather guiltily. "Yeah, that too."
"What's y'name?" asked Rogue, hands on her hips.
"Evan. I'm a freshman. What's yours?"
"You'll find out soon enough. So, how long've ya been here?"
"Since last week."
"Do ya like it?" If Rogue were in any other frame of mind, she'd have pulled a few strings with Darkholme and gotten Evan a mean couple of detentions for intruding into the girls' bathroom, even if it was between classes when nobody but her was in there. But right then, she felt accommodating.
Maybe it was that part annoyed, part amused look Summers had given her as she'd successfully left the English classroom. It made her feel like- shudder- being nice to people. But that ain't somethin' Ah want spread around town, thought Rogue ruefully. The boys'd think Ah was goin' soft, makin' nice with a new kid.
"It's not bad," shrugged Evan. "I'm learning how to get around."
"Good. So, freshman boy, beetle your way back to class. Can't have freshmen beatin' me at mah own game of missin' as many classes as humanly possible."
Evan rolled his eyes and finally grinned. "Whatever you say," he called over his shoulder as he left the room. Which reminded Rogue-
"And stay outta any more girls' bathrooms. Not all the girls in Bayville are as nice as me," she said sarcastically. With no idea as to why she was even talking to this lowly freshman new kid, she hissed, "In fact, there's two ya gotta watch out for. Jean Grey and Kitty Pryde. Pretty enough on the outside, but real bitches the two of 'em."
Evan stopped in his tracks and turned around, frowning. "Actually-"
"Go on!" said Rogue impatiently. "And don't you tell no-one Ah was here, got it?"
Evan nodded vociferously and went on his way.
The rest of the day went as usual. Rogue caught her ride home with the boys after school, made herself some dinner and went out walking until it grew dark. It was on her walk she began entertaining a notion she had been trying very hard not to acknowledge. She didn't want anyone to know about it, it was kind of her secret. A heavy, pointless secret that weighed her down until she finally had to say it aloud, as she crossed the park she and Summers had been rehearsing their duologue in not too long ago.
"It's mah birthday tomorrow," she said softly, and stopped in her tracks. "Ah'm gonna be sixteen at last."
In her awkward preteen years, sixteen years old had been the milestone year. The year she would lose all her insecurities and become who she was always meant to be. Some twisted joke the universe decided to play on me, huh? she thought, glancing down at the hands which could touch none without harming them.
Mosquitos buzzed in the rich air, which was warm for Bayville. Rogue was very sensitive to the cold, having lived in Mississippi for so long. She thought about her birthdays as she trudged home. Irene and Rogue had made a point of not making a big deal about birthdays. Just a nicer-than-normal meal to mark the occasion. Irene always gave her some birthday money with which to spoil herself, and Rogue was content. But sixteen was meant to be the year her whole life changed around.
It did change around, she corrected herself. It changed for the worse is all.
Rogue was going to spend sixteen, that landmark birthday, in the powerfully boring town of Bayville, with nobody who knew about her birthday or even cared. And that's the way it's gonna stay, she told herself firmly. Ah ain't lettin' slip about mah birthday to anybody. Not the boys or Mystique or anybody, hear?
She found herself nodding meekly at these words. Rogue walked home, let herself into the boarding house and went up to bed without so much as a goodnight to any of the others. In her bed, with the light turned out
Rogue had horrible, beautiful dreams about other people's birthdays that night. No, not dreams. Memories. She dreamed memories of other mutants' birthdays...
A young boy with demonic looks sat at a kitchen table in a farmhouse as his parents sang him a happy eleventh birthday. They sang in German. The mother hugged her son a great deal more than usual, her eyes misty and troubled. When he went to bed he could hear his parents arguing about the gifts... again, in German, but every word was understood by the one who heard, the one whose memory it truly was.
"... a football, Dieter! I can't believe you gave it to him like that! How could you be so thoughtless?"
"But Kurt likes football, Heide."
"He can't play football by himself!"
"Don't- don't be so- I'll play with him, of course."
"He's eleven now, Dieter! He needs friends his own age, but the way he looks other children will never accept him."
"He liked his gifts, Heide. And he is our son; I won't listen to any more of this." The man stomped to bed, and Rogue felt eleven-year-old Kurt Wagner's pain at hearing his parents, usually so loving toward one another, fighting over him on his birthday. And when he began to cry in his bed, Rogue knew she was crying too.
Rogue twitched in her own bed, still asleep. "Nein kein mehr, kämpft nicht, kann ich es irgendein mehr nicht nehmen... kämpft um mich nicht..." she whimpered.
A stately woman, her white hair bright on her shoulders, graciously accepted a gift from a three-year-old boy as she sat on a sofa. In the room with them was a couple (the little boy's parents), another couple (her own adoptive parents), a bald man in a wheelchair and a gruff-looking man standing in the doorway, sipping a beer as he watched the woman unwrap presents from her family.
"Iss f'you, Auntie Orororo. Hap' birfday," said the boy self-consciously, and grinned proudly when all the adults chuckled. He thought he'd done something clever.
"He'll learn to pronounce it someday," said Violet Daniels in more apologetic tones than ever before. She picked up her son and plonked him on the couch next to his aunt. "Or else, we'll give you a nickname."
"A nickname, me?" asked the woman whose birthday it was doubtfully. "I would have thought it would be hard to make a nickname out of Ororo."
"Ain't that hard, 'Ro," said the man in the doorway. She smiled uncertainly at him before opening little Evan's present.
Ororo Munroe tore open the gift to find a strange clay creation of her nephew's, complete with his deep, enthusiastic handprint as a kind of signature. In her eyes, any gift from the child was perfect. It was, in fact, entirely hideous, but it would not be out of obligation that she would keep it on her bedside table the rest of her life. It would be out of love.
A strange sort of smile curled Rogue's lips in sleep, the tears of a few moments before forgotten. It was not her usual clumsy smile not often allowed to bloom on her face (because she was rarely happy enough to really smile). It was Ororo's serene smile.
The boy in the next vision was only eight, but enormous. He was not sour-faced and quietly vengeful, though, but showed his emotions as he watched his father leave with his newest girlfriend. His mother was asleep in the next room, and the boy knew that he would cover for his father as long as he was able. Even if Mr Dukes did skip out on his own son's birthday evening to go and parade around town with his newest lady.
"Well, my, aren't you handsome. Eight years old and so like your dad," said the woman as she stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. "You had a good birthday so far, Freddie?"
The boy nodded vociferously, not wanting to upset his mother.
"Sorry I been sleepin' most of it, sweetheart," she sighed. "I just feel so ill. Can't be fun, havin' a real party-pooper for a mom, can it?"
"No, Mom," said the boy obediently. Realising what he'd said, he hastily stuttered, "I-I mean, yes, Mom. It can."
She laughed, and Fred's heart leaped. "You're a good boy. Where is your famous father, as a matter of interest?"
"Uh... I dunno," said Fred, and both of them winced as they heard the revving of Mr Dukes' beloved motorcycle.
With a sigh, the woman went to the sink, filling herself a glass with water and drinking deeply.
"I wish Dad'd take me out on his bike as much as he does with Melissa," said Fred reproachfully, so bitter he even risked saying her name in front of his mother. He saw his mother cringe as if he'd screamed it, and he immediately felt bad.
Rogue moaned and turned over. In sleep, she had a sudden urge to punch something and watch it splinter into a million little pieces.
The doors of the pizza parlour opened as the white-haired storm goddess from a previous memory ushered two twelve-year-olds inside, into the warmth. Both were rather tall for their age- the girl had long red hair and wore braces on her teeth. The boy's hair was brown and he was slightly shorter.
"Oh, cool!" said the girl enthusiastically, and the boy felt himself smiling against his will. "See, Scott, I told you this place was cool! Come on, I wanna go and see all of it!"
Scott Summers didn't see what was so fantastically different about this particular pizza parlour, but he was glad he had insisted on having his birthday treat with Jean, and only Jean. Of course, Ororo had to come, but she had seemed concerned he didn't want any of his schoolfriends to come.
"It was kind of you to spend your birthday with only Jean," Ororo Munroe said quietly as they watched the young girl run off to waylay some waitresses whose younger sisters she knew from school. "It made her feel special. I may not be a telepath, but I know. Scott, were you sure about spending your birthday with only Jean?"
"You're here," Scott pointed out.
"I know, but I'm the chaperone, Scott. I'm here to make sure bikers don't abduct the two of you." Ororo smiled as Scott finally cracked a grin. "Now, spill. You have plenty of friends at your school, yet you chose to take only Jean on your birthday treat."
Scott shrugged. "She's only been at Xavier's a little longer than me. And I know I haven't been there so long, but- Jean's my best friend. And when Jean's around I don't think about my brother. I don't think about Alex, Storm."
"What do you think about?"
"Stuff." Scott shrugged again. "I don't want- to think about Alex on my birthday." He paused. "He's dead, Ororo."
"Do you really believe that?"
Scott looked at his shoes. "Yes."
"Really?"
"No."
Ororo sighed and put her arm around Scott's shoulders. Scott felt embarrassed. She seemed to sense this as she whispered into the boy's ear, "Scott, we'll talk about this later. Meanwhile, she's waiting for you."
Scott's grin didn't budge again the whole evening, after he ran off after his friend Jean.
Even in the happy memory, Rogue's intense loathing of Summers and Grey showed through as she glowered. And she dreamed of nothing but birthdays that whole night, until when she awoke the next morning she was sick of hers before it had even started.
"Ah'm-" she muttered, eyes lightly closed as she registered the fact that her room was all full up with light. "It's-" She finally jerked upward into a sitting position, and her eyes fluttered open. Thousands of voices seemed to be yelling inside her head, and finally she found her own as she spoke aloud. "Ah'm sixteen today."
Without warning, Rogue climbed from her bed and dug around in her closet until she found her copy of Blackwood Farm, which she hadn't read for awhile. She remembered what she had been using for a bookmark, though. She pulled it out of the spine of the book: a tightly folded square of notebook paper from three years ago, that day. Rogue unfolded it and read it with displeased eyes. Written on the heavily creased paper was-
Things I Absolutely Have To Do Before I Turn Sixteen
1. Go to a concert.
2. Climb a mountain.
3. Write a real song.
4. Learn to dance.
5. Kiss a guy.
6. Go to Mardi Gras in N'Awlins with someone who really cares about me.
7. Get my ears pierced.
God. Had this been what Rogue had wanted three years beforehand, on her thirteenth birthday? She remembered it now- solemnly writing down each thing, folding it up small and then vowing not to open it until her sixteenth birthday. And she had used it for a bookmark. God knows why, she'd used to think, because at turns she could sometimes forget the exact significance of the paper. She must have been subconsciously dying to open the paper, all those years.
All for nothing. Or rather, all so it could be thrown in her face how utterly sucky she was.
Rogue looked at the things written down on the paper and sighed. Congratulations, thirteen-year-old me, she thought. You grew up into a real loser. Ah haven't done any of the things Ah wanted to do. And now, most of 'em Ah'll probably never get to do.
Forget about it, she thought harshly, standing up and yawning. She felt groggy after her fitful dreams. Rubbing at her eyes, she thought, Years come and years go but Ah still hafta get ready for school.
She paused and smirked as she left her bedroom to get some breakfast. How damned depressin', she thought.
- - -
DISCLAIMER: X-Men: Evolution does not belong to me. It belongs to Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, the WB, whoever you like. If it belonged to me, I would have probably abducted all my favourite XME boys off the WB backlot, heh heh.
NOTES: No italics in this one, because ffn.net's being all bitchy. Grr. I love italics, they're my life! How am I meant to denote enunciation of words, or different languages, or written words, or THOUGHTS? Arrrgh!
... Hopefully I'll be able to edit it later.
Rogue's random spurt of German in her dream translates to, "Please don't fight... don't fight over me... can't take it when you fight..." Or something like that. Grumble. FreeTranslation.com totally sucks when it comes to translating full sentences. Any Germans are going to find this fic hilarious, and not in the good way.
Yep, the kid in the bathroom at Bayville High was THE Evan, and it'll be dealt with. Rogue doesn't know he's an X-Man for now, but she will.
Thank you to all the reviewers for, erm, reviewing, I guess. And epona04, it was very kind of you to go through more than one chapter to review.
I will, of course, chronicle the rest of the events of Speed and Spyke. I was just kind of desperate to get a new chapter up, as you've probably guessed by the fact that this chapter is shorter than usual. So worry not, Pietro fangirls, for he shall make his grand entrance. Snicker. And I promise I won't be making any snide comments about hiding in the closet. For now, taking the piss out of his middle name should do nicely...
SONGS:
Field of Innocence by Evanescence (Rogue's dreams about other people's birthdays)
Sixteen by No Doubt (Play this when Rogue leaves her room after all her dreams, because... well, der. It's Rogue's sixteenth, so I think we should celebrate, non? It's such a groovy song, one I love to do little crazy dances to. I am definitely playing it at my next birthday party.)
She winced at his lack of effort at concealing his abilities and hissed, "What is it?"
"The X-Geeks have a new stooge on their side, wanna go check it out?"
"What for? You've already seen 'em."
"I meant for you to see 'em, Rogue," said Todd, leaning against the lockers.
Rogue slammed her locker. "They're all the same." Rogue hadn't actually told any of the Brotherhood boys that the X-Men had tried to kill her back in Caldecot County. She knew they'd probably do something stupid, like go and pick a fight with them on her behalf. As if she couldn't fight her own battles.
Things were almost back to normal with the boys. They seemed to have grudgingly forgiven her for her betrayal, and Rogue knew she could never pull a stunt like that again. Not if she wanted to finish high school with all her limbs. Next time Ah'm faced with that sorta situation, she told herself firmly, Ah'm just gonna be a good Brotherhood chick, go "Hellyeah." and lend a hand at kickin' th' X-Men's asses. Yeah.
She had settled into a comfortable little routine with each of the boys, and particularly with Mystique. Mystique was the only Brotherhood member she was really bothered about. In her Darkholme guise, she drove Rogue to school every morning. Whenever they ran into each other at home, they'd talk. It was strange to Rogue how Mystique spoke to her at the same time as if she were an adult, but also with a kind of affection and respect.
Todd shrugged. "Well, it's a black kid. Freshman. Name's Daniels."
Rogue rolled her eyes at the vague description. "And who told ya he was one of th' X-Men?" asked Rogue curiously.
"Nobody. I just put two an' two together when I saw all them."
"Ah doubt you'd be able to add even that, Toad," said Rogue nastily. "Ah think Ah'm gonna pass on goin' to English- class is full of geeks anyhow."
"OK. Gettin' a ride home with us?"
"Duh, Ah'm hardly walkin' all that way. If Ah'm not there when all of ya are, tell 'em Ah'm just comin'. And don't ya dare get slime on mah seat in the Jeep, Todd. Ah'll see ya later." Rogue waved jauntily and moved off.
There weren't really many interesting places to skip class at Bayville High, so Rogue usually spent what classes she ditched in the girls' bathroom. Rogue had been ditching as many English classes as possible. It wasn't because she was scared of Summers or anything. No, she just couldn't handle the excess losers in her class. The Loser, the Poser, the Ditz, the Loser's sappy new girlfriend Pinky Edmond and Summers all in the one class? Forget it.
Rogue ducked into the start of class to answer to her name at the roll. Then after five minutes she put up her hand and asked if she could be excused to use the bathroom. She tried her best to look pale (not too difficult given the huge amounts of makeup she wore) and ill, as if she had very bad cramps. The teacher gave her a very dubious look, but when Rogue gave a small groan as if she were seconds from throwing up he finally sighed and allowed her to go.
As Rogue got up and busily arranged her things to hide her notebook, which was dense with her writing, she made brief eye contact with Summers. Smirking rather wickedly at his disapproving look, she gave him a single disconcerting wink as she left the room, still pulling her 'pale and ill' impersonation. God, she thought, slightly perturbed. Where the hell'd that come from? Who am Ah again, a hooker?
Still, Ah love gettin' Summers all incensed. Ah love seein' that fantastic expression on his face when he sees Ah'm doin' something bad, even if it's just somethin' little like skippin' English. He's such a goody-good he practically hyperventilates when he sees me struttin' outta class all nonchalant-like. And Ah love doin' it to him. Ah love messin' with his mind. It's only fair Ah should get to pay him back for what his group did to me, after all. Rogue grinned as she walked down the hallway and swerved smoothly into the girls' bathroom.
She spent the next twenty minutes in the girls' bathroom, just sitting on the sinks and ducking into a stall whenever she heard anyone come along. Rogue was taken quite by surprise when the door opened and a boy stuck his head inside the room. Seeing Rogue, he mumbled something (looking rather alarmed) and tried to make a hasty escape.
"Hey!" she yelled, sliding off the sinks onto her feet and rushing after him. "Hey, kid!"
He turned around, looking rather uncomfortable. "I- they don't make the door signs that clear here, do they?"
"That's convincin'," Rogue snorted. "Ah'll let it slide just this once, but this is the girls' bathroom, if ya don't mind."
The boy sighed. "I'm new. I didn't know, I'm sorry."
"Fine, then. So, why're ya out durin' class?"
"I was trying to find the guys' bathroom."
Rogue raised her eyebrows. "And you were takin' a well-deserved break from this hellhole?"
The boy grinned rather guiltily. "Yeah, that too."
"What's y'name?" asked Rogue, hands on her hips.
"Evan. I'm a freshman. What's yours?"
"You'll find out soon enough. So, how long've ya been here?"
"Since last week."
"Do ya like it?" If Rogue were in any other frame of mind, she'd have pulled a few strings with Darkholme and gotten Evan a mean couple of detentions for intruding into the girls' bathroom, even if it was between classes when nobody but her was in there. But right then, she felt accommodating.
Maybe it was that part annoyed, part amused look Summers had given her as she'd successfully left the English classroom. It made her feel like- shudder- being nice to people. But that ain't somethin' Ah want spread around town, thought Rogue ruefully. The boys'd think Ah was goin' soft, makin' nice with a new kid.
"It's not bad," shrugged Evan. "I'm learning how to get around."
"Good. So, freshman boy, beetle your way back to class. Can't have freshmen beatin' me at mah own game of missin' as many classes as humanly possible."
Evan rolled his eyes and finally grinned. "Whatever you say," he called over his shoulder as he left the room. Which reminded Rogue-
"And stay outta any more girls' bathrooms. Not all the girls in Bayville are as nice as me," she said sarcastically. With no idea as to why she was even talking to this lowly freshman new kid, she hissed, "In fact, there's two ya gotta watch out for. Jean Grey and Kitty Pryde. Pretty enough on the outside, but real bitches the two of 'em."
Evan stopped in his tracks and turned around, frowning. "Actually-"
"Go on!" said Rogue impatiently. "And don't you tell no-one Ah was here, got it?"
Evan nodded vociferously and went on his way.
The rest of the day went as usual. Rogue caught her ride home with the boys after school, made herself some dinner and went out walking until it grew dark. It was on her walk she began entertaining a notion she had been trying very hard not to acknowledge. She didn't want anyone to know about it, it was kind of her secret. A heavy, pointless secret that weighed her down until she finally had to say it aloud, as she crossed the park she and Summers had been rehearsing their duologue in not too long ago.
"It's mah birthday tomorrow," she said softly, and stopped in her tracks. "Ah'm gonna be sixteen at last."
In her awkward preteen years, sixteen years old had been the milestone year. The year she would lose all her insecurities and become who she was always meant to be. Some twisted joke the universe decided to play on me, huh? she thought, glancing down at the hands which could touch none without harming them.
Mosquitos buzzed in the rich air, which was warm for Bayville. Rogue was very sensitive to the cold, having lived in Mississippi for so long. She thought about her birthdays as she trudged home. Irene and Rogue had made a point of not making a big deal about birthdays. Just a nicer-than-normal meal to mark the occasion. Irene always gave her some birthday money with which to spoil herself, and Rogue was content. But sixteen was meant to be the year her whole life changed around.
It did change around, she corrected herself. It changed for the worse is all.
Rogue was going to spend sixteen, that landmark birthday, in the powerfully boring town of Bayville, with nobody who knew about her birthday or even cared. And that's the way it's gonna stay, she told herself firmly. Ah ain't lettin' slip about mah birthday to anybody. Not the boys or Mystique or anybody, hear?
She found herself nodding meekly at these words. Rogue walked home, let herself into the boarding house and went up to bed without so much as a goodnight to any of the others. In her bed, with the light turned out
Rogue had horrible, beautiful dreams about other people's birthdays that night. No, not dreams. Memories. She dreamed memories of other mutants' birthdays...
A young boy with demonic looks sat at a kitchen table in a farmhouse as his parents sang him a happy eleventh birthday. They sang in German. The mother hugged her son a great deal more than usual, her eyes misty and troubled. When he went to bed he could hear his parents arguing about the gifts... again, in German, but every word was understood by the one who heard, the one whose memory it truly was.
"... a football, Dieter! I can't believe you gave it to him like that! How could you be so thoughtless?"
"But Kurt likes football, Heide."
"He can't play football by himself!"
"Don't- don't be so- I'll play with him, of course."
"He's eleven now, Dieter! He needs friends his own age, but the way he looks other children will never accept him."
"He liked his gifts, Heide. And he is our son; I won't listen to any more of this." The man stomped to bed, and Rogue felt eleven-year-old Kurt Wagner's pain at hearing his parents, usually so loving toward one another, fighting over him on his birthday. And when he began to cry in his bed, Rogue knew she was crying too.
Rogue twitched in her own bed, still asleep. "Nein kein mehr, kämpft nicht, kann ich es irgendein mehr nicht nehmen... kämpft um mich nicht..." she whimpered.
A stately woman, her white hair bright on her shoulders, graciously accepted a gift from a three-year-old boy as she sat on a sofa. In the room with them was a couple (the little boy's parents), another couple (her own adoptive parents), a bald man in a wheelchair and a gruff-looking man standing in the doorway, sipping a beer as he watched the woman unwrap presents from her family.
"Iss f'you, Auntie Orororo. Hap' birfday," said the boy self-consciously, and grinned proudly when all the adults chuckled. He thought he'd done something clever.
"He'll learn to pronounce it someday," said Violet Daniels in more apologetic tones than ever before. She picked up her son and plonked him on the couch next to his aunt. "Or else, we'll give you a nickname."
"A nickname, me?" asked the woman whose birthday it was doubtfully. "I would have thought it would be hard to make a nickname out of Ororo."
"Ain't that hard, 'Ro," said the man in the doorway. She smiled uncertainly at him before opening little Evan's present.
Ororo Munroe tore open the gift to find a strange clay creation of her nephew's, complete with his deep, enthusiastic handprint as a kind of signature. In her eyes, any gift from the child was perfect. It was, in fact, entirely hideous, but it would not be out of obligation that she would keep it on her bedside table the rest of her life. It would be out of love.
A strange sort of smile curled Rogue's lips in sleep, the tears of a few moments before forgotten. It was not her usual clumsy smile not often allowed to bloom on her face (because she was rarely happy enough to really smile). It was Ororo's serene smile.
The boy in the next vision was only eight, but enormous. He was not sour-faced and quietly vengeful, though, but showed his emotions as he watched his father leave with his newest girlfriend. His mother was asleep in the next room, and the boy knew that he would cover for his father as long as he was able. Even if Mr Dukes did skip out on his own son's birthday evening to go and parade around town with his newest lady.
"Well, my, aren't you handsome. Eight years old and so like your dad," said the woman as she stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. "You had a good birthday so far, Freddie?"
The boy nodded vociferously, not wanting to upset his mother.
"Sorry I been sleepin' most of it, sweetheart," she sighed. "I just feel so ill. Can't be fun, havin' a real party-pooper for a mom, can it?"
"No, Mom," said the boy obediently. Realising what he'd said, he hastily stuttered, "I-I mean, yes, Mom. It can."
She laughed, and Fred's heart leaped. "You're a good boy. Where is your famous father, as a matter of interest?"
"Uh... I dunno," said Fred, and both of them winced as they heard the revving of Mr Dukes' beloved motorcycle.
With a sigh, the woman went to the sink, filling herself a glass with water and drinking deeply.
"I wish Dad'd take me out on his bike as much as he does with Melissa," said Fred reproachfully, so bitter he even risked saying her name in front of his mother. He saw his mother cringe as if he'd screamed it, and he immediately felt bad.
Rogue moaned and turned over. In sleep, she had a sudden urge to punch something and watch it splinter into a million little pieces.
The doors of the pizza parlour opened as the white-haired storm goddess from a previous memory ushered two twelve-year-olds inside, into the warmth. Both were rather tall for their age- the girl had long red hair and wore braces on her teeth. The boy's hair was brown and he was slightly shorter.
"Oh, cool!" said the girl enthusiastically, and the boy felt himself smiling against his will. "See, Scott, I told you this place was cool! Come on, I wanna go and see all of it!"
Scott Summers didn't see what was so fantastically different about this particular pizza parlour, but he was glad he had insisted on having his birthday treat with Jean, and only Jean. Of course, Ororo had to come, but she had seemed concerned he didn't want any of his schoolfriends to come.
"It was kind of you to spend your birthday with only Jean," Ororo Munroe said quietly as they watched the young girl run off to waylay some waitresses whose younger sisters she knew from school. "It made her feel special. I may not be a telepath, but I know. Scott, were you sure about spending your birthday with only Jean?"
"You're here," Scott pointed out.
"I know, but I'm the chaperone, Scott. I'm here to make sure bikers don't abduct the two of you." Ororo smiled as Scott finally cracked a grin. "Now, spill. You have plenty of friends at your school, yet you chose to take only Jean on your birthday treat."
Scott shrugged. "She's only been at Xavier's a little longer than me. And I know I haven't been there so long, but- Jean's my best friend. And when Jean's around I don't think about my brother. I don't think about Alex, Storm."
"What do you think about?"
"Stuff." Scott shrugged again. "I don't want- to think about Alex on my birthday." He paused. "He's dead, Ororo."
"Do you really believe that?"
Scott looked at his shoes. "Yes."
"Really?"
"No."
Ororo sighed and put her arm around Scott's shoulders. Scott felt embarrassed. She seemed to sense this as she whispered into the boy's ear, "Scott, we'll talk about this later. Meanwhile, she's waiting for you."
Scott's grin didn't budge again the whole evening, after he ran off after his friend Jean.
Even in the happy memory, Rogue's intense loathing of Summers and Grey showed through as she glowered. And she dreamed of nothing but birthdays that whole night, until when she awoke the next morning she was sick of hers before it had even started.
"Ah'm-" she muttered, eyes lightly closed as she registered the fact that her room was all full up with light. "It's-" She finally jerked upward into a sitting position, and her eyes fluttered open. Thousands of voices seemed to be yelling inside her head, and finally she found her own as she spoke aloud. "Ah'm sixteen today."
Without warning, Rogue climbed from her bed and dug around in her closet until she found her copy of Blackwood Farm, which she hadn't read for awhile. She remembered what she had been using for a bookmark, though. She pulled it out of the spine of the book: a tightly folded square of notebook paper from three years ago, that day. Rogue unfolded it and read it with displeased eyes. Written on the heavily creased paper was-
Things I Absolutely Have To Do Before I Turn Sixteen
1. Go to a concert.
2. Climb a mountain.
3. Write a real song.
4. Learn to dance.
5. Kiss a guy.
6. Go to Mardi Gras in N'Awlins with someone who really cares about me.
7. Get my ears pierced.
God. Had this been what Rogue had wanted three years beforehand, on her thirteenth birthday? She remembered it now- solemnly writing down each thing, folding it up small and then vowing not to open it until her sixteenth birthday. And she had used it for a bookmark. God knows why, she'd used to think, because at turns she could sometimes forget the exact significance of the paper. She must have been subconsciously dying to open the paper, all those years.
All for nothing. Or rather, all so it could be thrown in her face how utterly sucky she was.
Rogue looked at the things written down on the paper and sighed. Congratulations, thirteen-year-old me, she thought. You grew up into a real loser. Ah haven't done any of the things Ah wanted to do. And now, most of 'em Ah'll probably never get to do.
Forget about it, she thought harshly, standing up and yawning. She felt groggy after her fitful dreams. Rubbing at her eyes, she thought, Years come and years go but Ah still hafta get ready for school.
She paused and smirked as she left her bedroom to get some breakfast. How damned depressin', she thought.
- - -
DISCLAIMER: X-Men: Evolution does not belong to me. It belongs to Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, the WB, whoever you like. If it belonged to me, I would have probably abducted all my favourite XME boys off the WB backlot, heh heh.
NOTES: No italics in this one, because ffn.net's being all bitchy. Grr. I love italics, they're my life! How am I meant to denote enunciation of words, or different languages, or written words, or THOUGHTS? Arrrgh!
... Hopefully I'll be able to edit it later.
Rogue's random spurt of German in her dream translates to, "Please don't fight... don't fight over me... can't take it when you fight..." Or something like that. Grumble. FreeTranslation.com totally sucks when it comes to translating full sentences. Any Germans are going to find this fic hilarious, and not in the good way.
Yep, the kid in the bathroom at Bayville High was THE Evan, and it'll be dealt with. Rogue doesn't know he's an X-Man for now, but she will.
Thank you to all the reviewers for, erm, reviewing, I guess. And epona04, it was very kind of you to go through more than one chapter to review.
I will, of course, chronicle the rest of the events of Speed and Spyke. I was just kind of desperate to get a new chapter up, as you've probably guessed by the fact that this chapter is shorter than usual. So worry not, Pietro fangirls, for he shall make his grand entrance. Snicker. And I promise I won't be making any snide comments about hiding in the closet. For now, taking the piss out of his middle name should do nicely...
SONGS:
Field of Innocence by Evanescence (Rogue's dreams about other people's birthdays)
Sixteen by No Doubt (Play this when Rogue leaves her room after all her dreams, because... well, der. It's Rogue's sixteenth, so I think we should celebrate, non? It's such a groovy song, one I love to do little crazy dances to. I am definitely playing it at my next birthday party.)