Riiiight, now it's turning downright paranormal. It was becoming quite the long chap, so I decided to split it in two. I know, I'm evil!!!!!!! To make it up to you, I'm gonna publish the next part pretty soon, as it is written, so just the time to edit, and it will be up, I swear 'g'!
Now on to the fic!
Rogue was absently looking at the painting in front of her.
She had promised earlier that day to respect her grounding, and she'd ever considered breaking her promises, those made to Logan even less. But Remy had been 'very' persuasive, and now there she was, pondering on the situation at hand and how she got there in the first place.
She had been walking out of the school premises when she spotted him, his lean form nonchalant against a tree, playing with his ever-present card game now missing the Queen of Heart. Not thinking, she approached him; his eyes left the cards and he welcomed her with a big smile.
"You are exactly the person I was looking for."
She stopped some five feet away from him, her arms crossed in front of her chest, defiance clearly written all over her.
"Excuse me, but I just can't seem to share your enthusiasm at that bit of news."
If that wasn't the answer he had been waiting for, he didn't let it on.
"I've just seen the advertisement for the opening of this exposition. They have this beautiful collection of paintings and statues from Copenhagen's Ny Carlsberg museum...."
Her eyes narrowed, and there was a definitely pissed off edge to her voice.
"What, you need a hand to steal something? Wait, maybe you want me to absorb someone from security." She was agitated now, pointing a finger accusingly at him.
"Now, what's the meaning of this, chère? Remy was just wandering if you wanted to go see it as well, nothing else. There is no need for you to get angry, is there?"
"You 'just want' to go see it?" He nodded in agreement. "With me." He made a step towards her. She didn't budge. She was still pissed off, but she was also slightly amused. And flattered. And sad. But she tried to keep those last two inside.
"Is there a problem with your hearing?" This time she was sure he had not been expecting 'that', because he stopped right were he stand. She was just out of arm's reach. She continued "Because I thought Logan had mentioned loud enough for the whole county –at least- to hear that I was not to leave the Mansion if not for school."
"He didn't say that."
"Excuse me…?"
"He said 'if not for educational reasons'. And don't-" he hurriedly added, as she was about to say something herself "say it's not the case."
She dropped her head, her spunk lost all of a sudden "I'm not sure…" Then, as she raised her face once again, in a voice that sounded pitiful to her own ears: "I made a promise. I can't break it. I just can't."
"Chère, trust tis thief. He, of all people, would never stop you from seeing art. He….knows you, your interest for art, and I don't think he would stop you from doing something of cultural value." He added "He 'is' your teacher after all: any experience that should increase your knowledge of the things of this world should be fine by him." There was some mirth in his eyes and his voice as he said those last words, something she knew would stick with her for a long time, although she didn't understand why.
But he didn't let her much time to think about it: his gloved hand was only inches from actually touching her.
"Come on, chère, it's opening in 20 minutes, just the time to get there with the next bus."
She hesitated. But she already knew she was going to accept. Because this was the Ny Carlsberg's collection, one of the most beautiful of Europe. She had spent hours admiring some of their ancient statues on the net, and since she had no idea if she'd ever go to Copenhagen, this was a unique opportunity.
Because now that she was considering it seriously, she was pretty sure Logan wouldn't mind, and that she wouldn't have to lie if he'd ever asked her; she wouldn't have to disappoint him. Not that she necessarily followed rules, her late night escape only the last example on a very long list. But she had a lot of respect for all the adults at the Mansion, and with time, she had come to cherish Logan's seemingly unconditional trust in her a great deal.
And also because it was Remy who was asking her, of all people. Remy, who could have spent his time with whatever woman he'd set his views on, and there were plenty of beautiful girls ready to fall for his charms in the Mansion, to which you could easily add a few hundreds in the Westchester area. Why he would prefer to pursue her was letting her perplex, but his insistence had also struck a chord somewhere in the most feminine part of her soul, a part she had become pretty good at simply ignoring since her mutation had manifested and that anything related to romance had, from that moment, gone right through the window for her.
He was the only other guy –outside Kurt and Logan who, for obvious reasons, didn't count- who had ever looked at her as a distinct, feminine entity, and not just as one of the Xmen. She had tried to avoid him so far, but now, she realized she was actually craving for more of this attention, although she had no idea where this was leading her.
So she took his proffered hand.
And now here she was in the gallery, in front of one of the ballerina's statue by Degas.
Remy, who she had learned, was utterly fascinated by Ancient Greece's art, had just left her for the upper floor where that part of the collection was exposed, letting her to seat alone on one of the luxurious velvet-covered bench in the middle of room 12A, facing the ballerina, disturbed only by the occasional hushed comment made by some other visitor.
Suddenly, rushed feet could be heard in the distance, seemingly closing on her; she didn't look in that direction though. She could almost taste that an 'urgent intervention' was up in the air, but she wanted to enjoy this magnificent piece of art close up for as long as she could. So she stayed still as everyone turned towards the young woman now dashing in the room, until a well-manicured hand lightly settled on her shoulder.
Jean's.
"Rogue? Come on, there's a situation, not far away from here."
She spared a short glare at the hand; Jean hastily withdrew it, as if the younger girl's eyes had burnt through. As she slowly roused, Rogue sighed.
Jean had always behaved 'cautiously' around her, but lately, she had become downright awkward. It couldn't be because of Scott: Jean and he were clearly together now, and Rogue had never given any sign that she hadn't nursed her crush on him by now, and as a telepath, Jean shouldn't doubt it. Maybe it was her power, maybe it was everything that had happened lately, she didn't know. But awkward she was, and increasingly so, especially over the course of the past week or so. The exact opposite of Remy.
Speaking of which…
"Jean, wait! I'm with Remy here, I know where he is. We could get him before…"
Jean, who was already heading for the exit, hesitantly turned her head.
"I know, but the Professor asked for only four of us. Kurt and Scott must already be there."
"Let me at least tell him…"
"Now!" And she started to run again, not waiting for a reply. Rogue was boiling inside. She hated it. Nobody seemed quite ready to trust Remy, who had been nothing but loyal to them. Besides, with now three telepaths in the house, it seemed that only logical that they would have been able to pick up any bad vibe from him.
She followed Jean outside and to her car.
They were on their way, when it became also appeared clear that she hadn't been anymore trusting than anybody else. In fact, because he had tried so hard to be closer to her than to anybody else, she had probably been the one who rejected him the most forcefully. Ashamed of that realization, as they stepped out of the jeep to discover that there military forces were already surrounding the building, she decided to at least give him a chance to prove himself.
He would either take it, or not.
They had thought that it may almost come down to a fight to break through the army to get to the top, where they heard the 'mutant' was. But in fact, they were given almost immediately leave to get up there as soon as they heard the name of Professor Xavier. Rogue couldn't help but notice that the guy who appeared to be the commanding officer looked almost relieved to let them take it over from there.
The view that expected Rogue and Jean, once they arrived there, looked every bit like a sci-fi novel adaptation for the big screen. A very good adaptation, almost too good to be believed.
About two dozens soldiers, forming a line just in front of the exit were aiming their guns at what was the most surreal thing Rogue had ever seen.
It was like a gigantic black orb, so dense that you could see nothing through it. The late afternoon's light seemed almost absorbed by it. Yet in its center could clearly be distinguished the translucent figure of a young boy in strange clothes, a few blond strands in contrast with the dark blue hood covering his head. He was dangling in the air, his feet a good five inches above the floor. His eyes were closed, as if he was concentrating in conjuring the black mass surrounding him. It must have been a good protection, for several bodies of soldiers were lying, unconscious, around him.
Seeing where the two young women's eyes were watching, one of the men explained: "That's what happened when the first of us tried to approach him: they were either rejected forcefully, or they disappeared inside this thing."
Rogue let those words sink in, before breaking through the soldiers' line and making a few steps towards the tangible expression of void before her, slowly peeling off one of her gloves. She didn't feel the fear the men around her reeked of so much. She was in mission mode now, a time when she was almost devoid of feelings. That's something, absorbing Magneto and Mystique had taught her, that allowed for more quickly analyzing the situation, which could save many lives given the situation.
"Jean? Just keep a close eye on this thing, would you?"
"What are you trying to do?" asked the soldier.
"Talk to him. Try to open communication. Done that already?"
The lack of answer told her all that she needed to know. She sighed.
"I might've known." she spat cynically.
She called out a few times, without any answer, but as she came closer, the mass seemed to contract and lose some of its density, revealing a couple more of unanimated bodies.
She extended her hand, running on instinct and adrenaline now. She had the impression the mass was losing its density while the body in its middle was becoming more solid with every step.
For two excruciatingly slow minutes, she kept making one step at the time. The tension was palpable to every being there. Her now gloveless hand was extended, her delicate pale fingers seeking contact.
A few more inches, just a couple more steps, and she'd be there.
And this is when all hell broke loose.
As usual, please r&r, thanks. That's what keeps me alive ;-)