Chapter One - Unexpected Guest
It all started the night they found Gambit on the street. Rogue would never forget that night. The weekend had started off saturated with tedium, if one did not stop to consider the possible armageddon of Apocalypse and recent anti-mutant outbreaks--too much thinking only caused needless worry. Rogue didn't want to think about Apocalypse. Whenever she did the anger and betrayal was almost too much to bear. Not to mention she felt a very strong urge to break things. She had already gone through four mirrors.
Saturday night. Two o' clock ante meridian. Accompanied with a TV remote and Lays Baked potato chips, Rogue was quite content, ensconced on the living room couch. Everybody else was asleep after a tiring night of movies, concerts, or parties. All those annoying social things. Rogue huffed at the thought, watching a commericial about Bicardi. Like holding the bottle would really make you more attractive to the opposite sex.
Ah suppose Ah shouldn't be one to talk, Rogue thought, and suddenly her skeptical mood turned to self-loathing. She hated remembering her powers, remembering her curse. She looked at her hands; the gloves sat on the cushion next to her. Poisonous, alabaster skin. Disturbed, violated mind. She winced, a hand going like reflex to her temple. They were acting up, the usually dormant psyches that Xavier had purged earlier. For some reason they were giving her more pain, more splitting migraines that made sure she was secluded from noise, light, and people.
Apocalypse had drained her of their strength, but little bits of the people she absorbed still remained. She had more control nowadays but if she ever let them, if they ever got too strong, they could take over. The headache subsided soon enough, leaving her at peace.
She shoved a hand into the potato chip bag and munched away, focusing once again on the late-night show she was watching. I Love Lucy. The classics were less annoying than contemporary fad interests like The Bachelor or Everybody Loves Raymond. God, she couldn't stand modern-day media.
Lucy was very occupied trying to gather a flock of baby chicks when Logan strode into the room looking gruffier than usual.
Rogue looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. "Um...can't sleep?"
The man turned his near-feral eyes at her and grunted, "Somebody's beeping."
"What, at the gate?"
"Yup. Tryin' to decide whether or not I care to check."
"Probably some hobo wanting food or shelter," Rogue yawned, thinking on the few times that had happened. She put away the chips and turned off the television. "Ah'll go with you, else they might get scared and run away."
"Ain't that a good thing?"
Rogue smirked, following her mentor and trusted friend towards the monitor room.
Computer screens littered a wall, depicting various camera-watched areas on the Institute grounds. Two cameras were hidden at the front gate, showing different angles. The one on the left had a good view of the gate's call pad.
"Looks like a pile of junk," Logan said, running a hand through his blue-black hair.
Rogue stared at the screen, saw the pile of junk move. "It's a man!" she exclaimed. "And he's..." Her voice trailed away, heart beginning to pound in a fashion all-too-familiar and all-too-unwelcome. Was it? Could it be?
"Damn it," Logan cursed under his breath as he noticed dark splotches on the sidewalk. "Looks like the punk's bleedin'. Might need medical attention. Of all the nights.... I was actually having a good sleep. Hate being so alert sometimes." He growled in irritation and left the room. Rogue followed.
They stopped in the foyer when met with Hank McCoy and Ororo Munroe. All four stared at each other in groggy confusion before Ororo finally said, "What are you doing up so early?"
Rogue noticed her hair was slightly disheveled, but she still looked as elegant and beauteous as ever.
"Ask you the same thing, 'Ro."
"Charles sensed a disturbance outside," Hank explained. "He awoke us to investigate."
"Why didn't he wake me up?" Logan asked, somewhat perplexed. He prided himself in being the go-to guy, the problem solver of sticky situations amongst a group that constantly got stuck in them.
Rogue rolled her eyes and pulled open the door, "You were already awake. C'mon, the guy needs help."
Logan told her to stay at the door while he and the other adults rushed outside. Ororo took to the air while Hank and Logan went to get the X-van. Moments later Rogue stood frozen in the doorway as Hank and Logan carried a limp, bloody figure into the mansion.
It was him. Gambit. And he looked sickly. He looked dead. Rogue could not tear her eyes away though it was what she most wanted to do. His head was split on the forehead, off-center, and bled profusely. The dark crimson covered one side of his face like a ghastly mask. His trench coat was stained in odd and disturbing places--dirt, grass, gravel, but mostly blood. Blood caked and still moist, blood dark and light. His inner uniform of deep navy and maroon lay in tatters over his lean, sinewy form. Scratch marks and tears lay visible on his chest, a large wound in his abdomen exuding precious life fluids. Rogue swallowed, feeling Ororo's hand on her shoulder, feeling the headache returning.
The Beast and the Wolverine carried him to the Infirmary.
"I saw him this morning," Jubilee was telling Rahne. "I went to the Infirmary to get a Band-aid, 'cause I got a papercut you know, and there he was! I mean, he was kinda roughed up but--" She released a whistle, "What a hunk!"
Rahne frowned, "Really? One of Magneto's lackeys?" She pursed her lips dubiously as they made their way into the kitchen. Breakfast was already half-prepared. Jean and Amara stood at the stove flipping French toast while multiple Jamies and Tabitha set the table. Ray, Roberto, and Sam were digging around the fridge and pantry while Kitty, Kurt, and Scott sat idly around, pouring juice or sipping coffee. Bobby was busily icing a morning smoothie. No adults were present.
"I'm telling you, he's got to be the best-looking guy I've seen in Bayville."
Jean carried a plate of French toast and set it on the table, eyeing the two girls curiously, "Who is?"
Jubilee smiled dreamily, "The guy Logan and Hank hauled in last night. Saw him this morning and looked like someone did quite a number on him." She forked a couple pieces of toast and began pouring syrup.
Kitty set the carton of orange juice back in the fridge, carrying her glass to the table. She looked at Jubilee curiously, "Who is it?"
"One of Magneto's dudes," Rahne chimed in.
Immediately everyone stopped their activity and turned to Wolfsbane. She looked at Jubilee who grinned and waved it off like it was nothing. "Oh, what's the big deal? He was hurt and needed help. That's what we X-Men do right, help?"
"But, one of Magneto's guys?" Jaime voiced, back to singularity. Kitty smirked, "Which one?"
Rahne rolled her eyes, "The hot one, apparently."
"Gambit?" Scott frowned, receiving a curious look from the others.
Jubilee's eyes widened, "That's his name? Wow. How cool and mysterious. You think that's what his personality's like? Tricky and--"
Tabitha began laughing, her rosy cheeks deepening. "Oh, this is gonna be something to see," she said. She grabbed an apple and a glass of milk, leaving the kitchen without bothering to stifle her amused laughter.
"I don't see how this is funny," Scott said, still frowning. "How can Xavier allow one of our enemies into the mansion? What if he's trying to infiltrate our defenses?" He took a stiff sip of his coffee.
Kitty rolled her eyes, "Somehow I doubt Gambit would, like, get himself pummeled to a pulp just 'cause he wanted to 'infiltrate our defenses'."
Breakfast resumed in the usual manner, though not without various X-kids discussing their new, unexpected guest. The girls gathered together at one end of the table, and much to Bobby's, Sam's, Ray's, Kurt's, and Roberto's annoyance, were gossiping about the cute Acolyte.
"Oh, he's so dreamy," Bobby mimicked Jubilee, who glared at him. A few of the guys chuckled.
Scott continued to sit and scowl. Jean shook her head at him. Then she noticed something, "Hey, has anyone seen Rogue?"
A steamy mist wafted in the bathroom air. It was warm and humid, clinging to her pale, creamy skin. The shower had been long and hot, but Rogue still felt a little cold. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, a hand resting against the glass. That was her, the slim girl with the white-striped auburn hair and bright green eyes she constantly shrouded with dark, purple make up. She didn't recognize herself. Her reflection winced, her hands going to her temples to massage the pain away.
The personalities in her mind were stirring. Something was bothering them, exciting them until they swam around in her head and knocked about the walls of her brain. Migraines and headaches were the least of their problems though. Some of the trapped psyches were fighting for control, whispering, shouting, and demanding her to do things.
"Shut up, shut up!" Rogue shouted, clutching the sides of her head. She shut her eyes tight, breathing hard. The pounding felt like a sledge hammer, a never-ending assault.
You're a monster. You steal people's souls. You're a vampire like her!
Let me out! You can't trap me in here!
I'm, like, totally getting claustrophobic in here.
She's coming. She's coming!
Vhy do you do this to your own brother?
Release me now before I wrench your pathetic mind--
Rogue gasped. The voices had gone. She clutched the sides of the sink, eyes still closed, tired from the effort of blocking them out. The Professor worked with her several mornings during the week to help her control them. She was getting better at it. The psyches had not been bothering her as much. But recently...recently...
Ah'm really losing it, Rogue sighed.
She dried off and went into the room to dress. She donned her usual dark attire, though a subconscious thought swayed her towards a pair of black dress pants and a deep grey off-the-shoulder sweater. Then she weaved her fingers through a pair of black cashmere gloves that Kitty had given her last Christmas. She had never worn them before. She sat at her vanity mirror, brushing smooth her auburn locks. He was still in her mind; his bloody face, his mangled body. Who would do such a thing? And what was worse, what had he done to deserve it? As if the thought irritated her psyches, the headache returned. Rogue winced and set her brush down to massage her head. With a gruff, frustrated groan she stormed out of her room.
The Infirmary was located on the first floor of the mansion. With its automated glass doors, sterilized rooms, white-sheeted beds, and gleaming tools and equipment, it had no trouble giving achieving a hospital atmosphere. Rogue entered the dimly lit area, thinking only of reaching the medicine cabinet. Mr. McCoy made sure to stock various over-the-counter medicines, mostly pain-relievers. Rogue rummaged around until she found one that looked strong enough. She popped a few pills and downed some water, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Would you like to lie down?"
Rogue turned slightly at the gentle voice. She regarded the beastly doctor with a weak, unconvincing smile. "Ah'll be fine."
Mr. McCoy frowned. Wearing a white lab coat and spectacles, he looked the part of physician. He carried a blood sample in his pawed hand. "Rest a bit on the cots, Rogue," he said. "You'll feel better laying down."
She took the doctor's advice. On her way to find a bed she passed the glass doors that led to a room she had grown very familiar with. She had spent many a day recuperating with the presence of monitors, IV tubes, and crisply bleached sheets. Someone now took her place.
Rogue approached with reluctance. The guy who'd tried to blow her up. The guy who had kidnapped and used her. And here she was, staring at him with strange fascination.
He lay on the sterilized bed, tucked snugly in between the sheets. No trace of blood could be seen anywhere. His face was removed of the ghastly red streaks, gauze and tape covering the gash near his left temple. The bandage pushed back bangs that were too long to be gentlemanly. His face slightly frowned, eyebrows angled as though in pain or discomfort. Any other injuries were covered by the blankets.
Rogue frowned, watching Gambit sleep. She was annoying herself. She turned to leave when he stirred, muttering something. She looked at him, leaning in closer to hear.
"Julien...ghost...stop..."
Julien. Rogue's hands clenched into fists. Julien. The bazooka-friendly "Ripper" who had tried to kill her and Gambit--on more than one occasion. She had taken a grim satisfacation from beating him up in that New Orleans jazz club. Her hands itched to do more damage. The creep must have come up north and sought Gambit out, cornered him somehow, and beaten him to a bloody mess. The coward. But who was this ghost?
Footsteps. Mr. McCoy came in, reading a chart, and looked up, a little surprised to see Rogue. "I've come to check on his vitals," he said, moving around to read monitors and monitor readings. A graphite pencil scratched notes and numbers onto his clipboard.
"Mr. McCoy," Rogue said. "Uh, he was mumbling something a little bit ago. Is he gonna wake up soon?"
Hank pulled out a small flashlight and gently slid back one of Gambit's eyelids. A sea of black with orbs of red was revealed. He shined the light through, checked the other eye. "Hmm, looks like he's dreaming in deep sleep. Bodies sometimes react to stimulations of the mind. What did he say?"
Rogue shrugged, "Muttered a few names."
"Do you recognize them?" Hank asked. He knew of the incident from a few months ago, when Gambit had abducted Rogue and whisked her off to Louisiana.
Rogue wondered how much she should tell. What if Gambit didn't want people to know. She shook her head and sighed tiredly, "Nope."
"Well," Hank said, scribbling the last of his recordings. "He's recovering quite well. The sedatives I gave him should wear off some time this afternoon. I wonder what happened that would inflict such wounds. You saw him last night, Rogue. He would have bled to death had he not come to our doors."
"Yeah, but why did he?" Rogue asked, puzzled now that the thought crossed her mind. "Ah mean, he is Magneto's guy, even though Mags is out of the picture right now, and we're still technically enemies."
The doctor nodded his blue-furred head, scratching at his chin. "Perhaps he doubted the Acolytes would be of much assistance in his predicament. And he certainly would not want to go to a public hospital, what with all the anti-mutant aggression. And as they say, 'The enemy of the enemy is your friend'." He headed for the door and Rogue followed. "Very fortunate, that lad. And fascinating eyes, don't you think?"
Rogue could not disagree. Ororo poured herself a cup of steaming herbal tea. She sat in her poised, yet relaxed, position in the study. That morning she had chosen to dress in traditional African garb, complete with headwrap. Tendrils of snowy white hair framed blue eyes and mocha-colored skin. She waited patiently.
Logan repeatedly extended and retracted his adamantium claws, lacking the virtue Storm so effortlessly modeled. First out came three, then one at a time they slid back in. He cracked his knuckles. "What's taking Hank so long?" he grumbled.
"Apologies, my friend," Beast said. He entered the study and sat in the couch across from Ororo. "But I am glad to say that our guest is recovering quite well. He should be waking later today."
"Sooner the better," Logan said. "Then he can high-tail it outta here."
Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair, staring out the vast ceiling-to-floor window. He watched his fellow teachers by the reflection off the glass. "Do not be too eager to cast him out, Logan," he said. "If the injuries Hank described are that severe, I believe it best to keep him within the safety of the manor."
Logan frowned, "Why? He's an Acolyte, Chuck. And you don't have to be a telepath to know it's makin' some of our kids uncomfortable that he's here."
"We cannot simply toss him out," Ororo spoke up. She calmly sipped her tea. "This young man does not strike me as the mutant-terrorist type. He must have reason to follow Magneto."
Xavier nodded in agreement. "The files we have collected on Gambit show he is more mercenary than fanatic. I have reason to believe that Remy LeBeau allied with Magneto in order to escape another, less desirable situation. And as for the matter of our X-Men, they will be wary to trust, but I have detected some have already taken to the youth."
Logan grunted and rolled his eyes. Ororo smiled, "Jubilee and Amara were fighting over who would prepare him a meal." She smirked at Logan's look of annoyance.
"A possibility has crossed my mind," Xavier said, placing the tips of his fingers together. "Gambit has skills and knowledge that could be of help to our cause. If he were to remain with us, join the team, perhaps..."
Logan bristled, "Chuck..." He silenced himself when the Professor held up a hand.
"...he would make a very helpful addition. Needless to say, Gambit may not agree, but I am giving him the option nonetheless. If he chooses to stay, I ask all of you to demonstrate acceptance and open-mindedness. Logan?"
"I just have to say," the clawed man muttered, "that this is a bad idea."
"Deftly noted, Logan. Thank you for your input."
Hank smiled pleasantly and asked, "Should I send him to you once he's able, Charles?"
Xavier nodded, "Yes, there is much I wish to discuss with him. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but breakfast sounds quite welcome at this moment."
Hank and Logan exited first, but Ororo lingered. Xavier sensed something troubling her and turned around.
"Charles," she said, frowning slightly. She set the teacup down. "Evan contacted me earlier this morning."
"Is there something wrong?" Xavier asked. Surely he would have sensed any harrowing toil, or at least had some sort of intuition about it.
Ororo crossed her arms. In a grave tone she told him, "One of the Morlocks were attacked last night, around the time we found Gambit. Sarah, or Marrow, as we know her. Nobody knows how or why. Evan was out with her, getting food, when he said she began screaming and clutching her head. She collapsed and writhed for a long time, Evan said. Then she was...still." She shivered noticeably. "It sounded like a harrowing experience."
Xavier had retreated to deep thought, not hearing her last statement. He looked at her with a furrowed brow. "I have a theory, Ororo, though I don't believe...Nothing is certain. We must consult Evan and the Morlocks to investigate this further."
Ororo nodded and took the handles his chair. She pushed him out of the study and sighed, "I hope we get to the bottom of this, Charles. Marrow is not the first."
"I know," Xavier said, frown deepening, "and I do not believe she will be the last."
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Hey there. So things start happening in this chapter but more stuff in the next. RR, the input would be nice. I tried to do something that would seem like it'd happen, not like those intense romance things were Gambit falls for Rogue in an instant. I think it should take time, y'know?