I've been annoyed since Thanksgiving because was tweaking out or something, not letting ppl upload. Since this chapter was already delayed enough, you can imagine the irritation. Anyway, here it is, belated but present.
We're getting really close to the end, though--wow. That's so exciting. I really cannot believe how I've kept up with this for so long...wow. It's been really fun, a good experience, and as cliche and cheesey as it sounds, I really have learned something. There's a reason writing is one of the humanities, yeah?
Anyway, it's winding down and I'm getting incredibly eager for the conclusion!
Random Sidenote: I can't remember who it was that turned me onto Muse but I totally agree about how the music works with this fic! So thanks.
If there's anybody else who had good music to recommend, well, recommend it.
Ishandahalf: I am beginning to notice an interesting trend. I think you are usually the first person to review on the chapters! Funny, that. Oh, yes, I am the angst-loving masochist of us all...so what does that say about Rogue and Gambit? Well, you'll see. Totally Obsessed47: Romyless chapters are an issue. And for the sequel, I don't know how I'm going to manage it...hmm, the dilemmas. CatStar14: Wasn't that little Lance/Kitty thing sweet? I've been planning to put that in since Chapter 13 or something like that. Freak87: Piotr only received a little cameo-ish sorta thing. But getting into his whole family does sound intriguing...maybe the sequel. I just had to do the tricky thing--wonder how many were fooled? It really never occurred to me for them to change clothes--just one of those things were you're supposed to go "Oh, well, it's just a story" like when you see a plot hole and you go, "Oh, well it's a movie". You know? Eventually--ha--that's like never to Rogue. Shockgoddess: Don't you remember? She's touched him many times before but back in that chapter titled "Love In Vain" she absorbed him a little before and got some stuff--only it's just resurfacing now because it's convenient for my story ;-) I'm allowed to do that you know. And I don't mind the long reviews--I prefer them! My vocab's good, huh? Funny, I hardly even notice. Maybe I'm better than I thought. And you'll just have to wait and see what happens with Rogue, Remy, and the memories. I think I read the Remy doped up thing somewhere too, hmm... Sweety8587: Haha, sorry about being tricky with the Lance/Kitty thing--well, no I'm not really. Ha, but it was fun yes? DreamSprite: You've been reading since one and you haven't reviewed once?? Please, review more often, Sprite! I like to know who's reading--gives me some sort of twisted sense of community. But, hey, glad you're enjoying the "show". X2P3: Summary? I can't remember if I wrote one. Oh, well. Hope you're getting what's going down in the story. Hope this wasn't too late--I know I've been getting more and more delayed these days. SCaliGirlHK: hi there--that good huh? I like the whole capital letters thing--shows enthusiasm. I'll try to keep it up, pretty sure it'll be good. I have high standards. Flowerperson: Yep, I was wonder who'd catch that. I just stuck the whole "Ring" movie thing in randomly--call it a whim. Rocks like an electric guitar? Ohhh--hahahaha, I just got that. You're funny and nah, not too cheesey, especially when you know it's cheesey. Haha. Possessor of the X Gene: Are you British? I always thought only English people said "smashing"--just curious. I agree with the angst theory. Thank you for noticing all my little mentions in this story--they'll come into play in the future. I put tons of stuff, all these little clues and cameos--that will be used in the sequel (with which I am having incredible trouble coming up with a title for). Yes, it is Miss Darcenaux I'm reviewing to. Yeah, I thought that "Essex wanting Sinister" thing was a little off, but don't worry, I got what you meant. Proofread reviews? Nahhh... Lady Godiva: You don't know who Genevieve Darcenaux is? Oh, you should read up on some Gambit history otherwise this isn't going to make sense for you at all. I suggest going to under Cerebro Files and character golossary--look up Gambit, read his bio. Interesting history your name has--that is a nice legend to think of though. Imagine riding around town with only your hair to cover you--the whistles, cat calls, and degrading behavior--ugh, our world is disgusting. Fudgebrowne: I think when you wrote "jerastic" you meant "drastic"--yep, I'm pretty sure. You need to know? Well, keep wondering. Haha, sorry, I'm so evil! Plague-darkholme: What?? You're begging me not to bring Genny into it? Sorry hon, she's already in it. And really, there could never be enough angst when it comes to these two--their lives is angst--wouldn't be them without angst--at least, that's what I think. Sit tight through the tension! Allie: Oh come on, it couldn't have been that good. But if it is, keep thinking it's so! I like this chapter much better though. Rogue and Gambit actually get to be in the same room together for once. Serena: Oh, who likes waiting--sucks how we have to do it so much, huh. And now you have to wait for chapters to be uploaded....sigh, that's the way of life. I like this one much better than the last, so enjoy. Kendokao: I've been wanting to put a littke Kitty/Lance since the tens chapters--finally got that out of my system. And yeah, I had to bring up Genny--and it was completely spontaneous, too. Come to think of it, a LOT of this fic was random moments of bursts of ideas. Insane how the mind works. Sanaria: Oh, the best stress relief? That is probably the most meaningful compliment I've had about this story, since I seriously know how stress can be. Talk about ugh. Santos Black: I can completely relate to you friend. I started the X-Men fic thingy this summer when I was grounded and had nothing better to amuse myself with--and I realized it wasn't as dorky and stupid as I first thought--well, at least not to me anymore. But yeah, got hooked on a few. There are some good ones out there--I judge by the number of reviews they've had. Enchanted light: why do I bother replying to you?? ;-) But hey, your consistency is wodnerful. Browneyedimagination: Hey, like your penname--it's unique. And thanks for the praise. I swear it never gets old. :-) I was afraid this fic wouldn't go well with readers but I'm glad everybody's enjoyed it so far. I hope I continue to satisfy! Blackrougefillie: You did get the latest chapter right, 30 or something like that. I noticed your review was fr/ Chap 1 and that was a little confusing, but no matter.
"You have got to be kidding me," Sam huffed. He slapped the desktop and leaned back in his chair. "That guy's got lots of nerve."
Bobby turned towards the screen Sam had been watching. Incredulous expressions washed over his face upon seeing the images. "That really him?"
"Just as hairy, just as scary," Sam quipped.
Momentarily entrusted with security duty, the two boys had been lounging in the monitor room for the past hour and half, munching on snacks and swapping guy-tales. Nobody seemed to remember that the front gate was still blown apart; when the foreign, steel-encased van pulled up the Institute drive, both of them were more than little perplexed, even more so as the towering figure stepped out of the driver's side.
Bobby flicked the frequency switch that connected to the communicators all X-Men wore. Logan was the only one to keep his handy even while within the Institute. After a few seconds of static, his gruff voice mumbled, "What's up?"
"You're not going to believe this," Bobby said, "but Sabertooth's standing at our front door. And looks like he's ready to break it down."
"You pullin' somethin', Drake?" Logan's voice demanded, sounding no less intimidating through a radio.
"Not this time, sir. See so for yourself."
"You and Cannonboy meet me in the foyer." With a sharp click, Logan disconnected the link.
Bobby flicked off the radio. Turning to Sam, he said, "You heard the man."
Together they left the monitor room, slightly reluctant towards having to face the meanly savage Sabertooth. Of all their enemies he seemed to be the most unpredictable, the biggest wild card with a treacherous air. The fact that Logan hated him so much said something about the guy, and nobody really wanted to speculate why that might be.
Logan was already at the door when Sam and Bobby arrived. He looked freshly clean shaven, having just showered after an entire morning of extensive physical labor. By the expression on his face, Sam and Bobby could tell he was preparing to get his hands dirty again.
"He bring anything with him?"
Sam shook his head, "Just a van that he came in. Didn't look armed or anything."
"What's that bastard want," Logan muttered to himself. Grabbing hold of the door, he swung it open.
Bobby twitched despite himself. The sight of Sabertooth alone gave him the willies, though he would never admit it to anyone. He avoided staring directly into the feral eyes of that ferociously rough face.
Sabertooth sneered at them disparagingly.
Logan glared in calm anger, "What do you want, Creed?"
"I came to pick up the boys."
"What boys," Logan narrowed his eyes.
"The tin bucket and firebug, genius," Sabertooth snickered. "Last I remember, Gambit brought 'em here. You kept them alive?"
Logan huffed, "Like you give a damn."
"Never said I do," Sabertooth growled. "Just protecting my interests."
"Your interests disappeared along with your boss," Logan practically barked.
"If you had half a brain you'd know Magneto don't die that easy."
"If you had any sense you'd know Apocalypse ain't an amateur."
Sam and Bobby watched the exchange with growing unease. Both stood ready to use their powers, muscles tightening as the tension between Wolverine and Sabertooth mounted with each retort.
Sabertooth's sneer became more severe, the curve of his lip almost interfering with the droop of his nose. "I'm not in the mood for this," he spat. "Where're Colossus and Pyro?"
"Somebody call f'me?"
All eyes turned towards the top of the stairs as Pyro leapt onto the banister and slid all the way down. He landed on the floor sturdily, but just as he was about to regain balance, he swooned and toppled face flat on the floor. Bobby and Sam helped him up, but he swatted them away.
"Geroff," he protested. "I don't need help from you ninnies." Straightening the ruffled scrubs he still wore, he flashed Sabertooth a toothy grin. "What's with the house call, Cat?"
"You're gettin' back to the base."
"Why--boss man's gone."
"He'll be back."
Pyro raised a conspicuously orange eyebrow, "Sorry t'bust your bubble, mate, but Mags blew up when Apocalypse did him in. Ye holdin' onto false hopes."
Sabertooth released an irritated growl; Logan flexed his hands, eyes narrowing. "We don't know anything for sure yet," Sabertooth barked, eyeing Logan as he spoke to Pyro. "And till all this Apocalypse shit blows over, there's still stuff to take care of over at the base. Think it'll be good for us if business stops?"
Pyro scowled and waved away Sabertooth's rebuttal as a trifle. "I'm restin' up here. Crikey, can't wake up from a coma without some bloke breathing down ye neck." He massaged his head to coax away the wooziness. "Give it a few days."
"No," Sabertooth rumbled. "You've had enough time to lie on your ass. Go find Colossus and get the hell outta here."
Pyro noticeably bristled, "Last time I checked, you weren't the boss, mate."
"Last time I checked, you weren't an X-Man." Sabertooth bared his teeth as his lips fashioned a new type of ugly and malicious sneer.
Logan stepped in between the two, giving the feline man a firm push backwards. "He'll go when he wants, Creed."
Sabertooth's feral eyes flashed with aggravated fury. His nostrils flared, "They're not one of yours--they're Acolytes. They have places to be and things to do. Don't you, firebug?" He glared expectantly at Pyro. "Remember the project?"
Pyro groaned in annoyance while Logan, Sam, and Bobby shot suspicious glances at each other. "Bloody hell," Pyro spat. "Can't get a decent break 'round these parts..." Scartching his head, he turned in the direction of the Med Bay. "I'll go find ol' Piotr."
"Better find that Cajun, too. He's as much in this as we are." Sabertooth made to follow but with a snikt Logan's claws extended inches before his face. "You ain't going anywhere," he said. "This mansion's not open to your perusin'. Sam, go alert everyone about our new visitor. Bobby, make sure Pyro doesn't pull anything."
"I ain't sittin' here for you to babysit," Sabertooth bit off. "Long's they get back to the base, I don't care how they do it." With a guttural huff, he turned widely on his heels and left the mansion with a twirl of ragged trench coat. The door slammed shot. Moments later, the revving of a large engine sounded, followed by fading tire squeals.
Sam scratched his head, "What was that all about?"
"A project," Bobby huffed. "What kinda project could those lackeys ever commit to?"
Despite the boys' mocking tones, Logan held a troubled expression on his face. He walked to the window to make certain of Sabertooth's egression. "I don't like the sound of this 'project'," he said.
"It's probably your everyday criminal plot," Bobby shrugged. "Larceny, illegal drugs, black market deals--the little things."
Logan missed the humor, his eyebrows furrowing even more deeply. "If Magneto was runnin' it, it isn't somethin' normal idiots would do. That old man's got some ambitious goals." He seemed to think he was over-pondering the issue and shook his head. "We'll deal with this later. You two go make sure Pyro ain't up to anything. We can't tell if Sabertooth comin' here wasn't some way to pass messages."
He watched Sam and Bobby leave to do his bidding, then looked out towards the front yard again. The present calm was rank with falsehood--a shroud over impending tribulations. Despite what everyone thought, despite how well all seemed, it wasn't. He sighed, knowing this dread would disappear soon enough; once he was distracted by more immediate encumbrances, he would forget all about this nagging premonition. But in the meantime, he worried. In the meantime, he could not help but think all that had happened was just the beginning.
-------------------
"How are you feeling?"
"Better, I s'pose."
"Enjoying the plethora of narcotics, are you?"
"Y'know, y'got a freakishly big vocab'lary for a Russian immigrant."
Piotr chuckled uncharacteristically, a smile breaking his stern expression. "What can I say, my friend. Attentive listening and hard work."
"Explains why y'always so quiet. Brain workin' overtime?"
"Of course. You should follow my example and give your body a break. No telling how much more maltreatment it can endure."
"Merde, y'jus' have t'bring dat up. I get 'nough scolding from de blue guy. As if these bulky bandages don' punish, too. Dey messin' m'style."
Piotr rolled his eyes.
Hidden within unlit corners of the Med Bay, Rogue smiled. Dim fluorescence erased light from Remy's room, but the rest of the medical center remained in near-complete darkness. Rogue was not sure how long she stood there. She had every bit of resolve on her stalk to the Med Bay, but once she reached the room and heard the voices, all of it crumbled. So she stood listening to Remy converse so cordially with his friend. It was a side of him she had never seen before. Somehow, she had imagined Remy was one not to keep friends; his thieving lifestyle was too precarious and required too much mobility. But when people shared that way of life, she supposed it inevitable to befriend them.
"...have been wondering something since this morning," Piotr was saying.
"'Bout what?"
"The stripe-haired X-Man, the one that steals the powers of others."
Rogue gave a start and nearly bumped the door. Heart pounding faster than necessary, her ears became ultra-sensitive to Piotr's every accented word.
"What you mean?" Remy asked. His ebony-crimson eyes narrowed with interest, not showing concern if he had any.
Piotr lifted an eyebrow in a shrugging motion. "Just that she was here while John and I were present. She did not greet us, or you for that matter, though I assume she came to see you. She had a strange expression on her face. Then with you so vaguely asking, 'Is she okay', well, I am 'putting two and two together', as you Americans are so fond of saying, and hopefully I have not come up with five."
"Was dere a question in dat impressive diatribe?"
Piotr sighed, "She looked...troubled. So I have to wonder if the lady's man has finally encountered something deeper than the pockets of his pants."
Remy released a curt breath of air, hoping it would deflect Piotr from detecting his lie, "Maybe, don' really know. M'not really on top o't'ings right now."
Piotr nodded though he didn't understand. The look on the girl's face was haunting and quiet honestly, had spooked him. "Well," he said, "I do not know how much longer these X-Men can stand us Acolytes in their home. The girls are constantly being harassed by John and I believe one of them will soon--"
"Ey, no trash-talkin' behind my back--whoa there!" John's footsteps came to a halt as he crashed into some body. "Didn't see ye there, sheila!"
Rogue stumbled into view, eyes stunned wide. She looked from John to Piotr and finally to Remy.
"Chere," he said, too surprised to smile or frown, not knowing which was appropriate.
Rogue could only stare at him. Finding her voice again she said, "Ah'll come back when you're not so...busy." She brushed past John to get away.
Remy received the strange feeling that she was avoiding him.
"What's with her?" John asked, throwing a thumb in Rogue's direction.
"Nothin'," Remy said. "What's up?"
"Cat came calling," John informed them. "We gotta get back to the base. You know, work to do." He stuck out his tongue and pointed a finger at his throat. "Gag."
"Is Creed still here?" Piotr asked.
"Dunno."
Piotr nodded, "Are you well enough to come with us, Gambit?"
Remy lowered his eyes in thought, trying to decide what he should do. "Can't say, but m'not sure I'll be going back wit' you guys."
John and Piotr exchanged looks of surprise and bewilderment. "What?"
"My contract's up," Remy explained. "An' Magneto's out o'de picture. Why should I keep up wit' his dirty work?"
"Where else would you go?" Piotr asked. "What would you do?"
"I figure dat out later."
John raised an eyebrow at him, "This's got somethin' to do with that Rogue, don't it?"
Remy scowled.
"Ha, I knew it. That lil' moment ye guys had a second ago, gave it all away. What'd ye do this time to make the girl fall for ye?"
"Leave it alone," Remy groaned and tried not to let the question bug him. What had he done to earn her affection? Did he ever even have it, or were the emotions that now confused him gone unrequitted? There was no other way to explain her strange behavior. He lay back into the pillows and rested an arm over his eyes.
Thankfully, Piotr was a good friend, and a very empathetic one. "Very well," he said. "John and I will return to the base. If you plan not to return, at least bid us some sort of farewell."
Remy smiled at him, "Wouldn't be right t'leave wit'out sayin' good-bye t'my pals, non?"
"Psh, ye serious about this," John said. "The sheila's gotten to ye head." Flashing Remy a parting smirk, he followed Piotr out of the Med Bay.
Remy watched them leave, wondering if he should follow. "Not an Acolyte anymore," he muttered to himself. "Not an X-Man, either." He could almost laugh at such an inconceivable notion. "Only a T'ief." The weight of obligation fell upon his shoulders at the reminder. It had been easy to forget about his former commitment in all this time at the Institute, in all this time with Rogue, but sooner or later it was going to catch up to him. The only real problem was figuring out how to tell her.
Minutes ticked away. A knock sounded at the doorway.
Remy looked up to see Hank smiling at him behind oblong spectacles. He pushed a wheelchair into the room and unfolded it at Remy's bedside. Remy gave him a questioning look.
"Yes, I know it is still very soon after surgery," Hank said, "but you've had the whole day to recuperate and, well, this has been long overdue."
"What has?"
"Answers," Hank said. "Answers to many questions. Would you like a robe?" He grabbed one from the closet.
Remy slowly slipped it on, careful about moving his pectoral muscles. Pushing aside the sheets, he eased his legs over the side of the bed.
"Easy does it now," Hank said. "Would you like some booties for your feet?" At the sour expression on Remy's face, he shrugged, "Perhaps not then." He held the chair steady as Remy lowered himself into it. "Good. Now we can be on our way."
Remy pulled the robe closer around himself as Hank directed him through the Med Bay. He eased back into the cushiony seat, noting that the X-Men even had top quality wheelchairs above all else. His hands rested softly clutched on his lap, his head nodded slightly forward. He watched the Med Bay disappear around him, slowly morph into the decor of a mansion hallway. Silence all around. Peaceful and quaint.
"Feelin' kind o'lame, Doc," he sighed.
Hank grinned, "Would you like to wheel yourself?"
"Dat's de sad part: if I did, it'd hurt."
Hank's grin grew into a chuckle.
Five minutes later they were heading down the second floor hallway, right towards the Professor's study at the end of the corridor. The door was ajar and Remy could hear snippets of a conversation as he drew nearer.
"...kinda personal stuff..."
"...feel better if he was here?"
"...not sure whether it'd do any..."
"...easier for you..."
Hank knocked and a prompt, "Come in" bade them entrance. Much to Remy's surprise, Rogue and the Professor were not the only ones present. Ororo sat in an armchair, hands neatly folded on her lap while Logan stood behind the Professor's desk, leaning against the window.
"Ah, finally," the Professor said with a pleasant smile. "How are you fairing, Remy?"
His glance first flicked in Rogue's direction, but quickly moved to the Professor when he saw she was staring at the floor. "Doin' good after bein' shot three times," he replied.
Ororo raised an eyebrow, Logan released a dry laugh, and the Professor blinked. "Well," the venerable telepath began, "I have to say this meeting has been long overdue. I believe it will be easiest if one of you would start telling us exacty what had transpired, from the beginning."
When neither Rogue nor Gambit spoke, the Professor cleared his throat. "Please, we would not ask if we didn't feel it was important to know. Somebody is targeting the X-Men and specifically seeking Rogue. We need all the available information so we are not always one-step behind a potentially harmful enemy."
Rogue closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She remained silent, seemingly preoccupied with other thoughts.
Remy wondered if she was even listening to the Professor. After a few minutes of tense quiet, he finally spoke, "Not much t'say 'bout de stuff before all de X-Men were gone. Everybody was falling into comas." It all came back to him, a rush of unpleasant images and semblances of feelings. "Annabel Velkonnen," he began again, and noticed Rogue wince. "Her uncle, Theodore Farrat, was keepin' her in a coma so he could spend de money her Count father provided dem wit'..." And from that beginning, the entire story from his perspective poured out. It was surprising how easily he spoke of it; his vocal cords modulated sound to produce the appropriate words, almost without him having to think beforehand. He watched the listeners subconsciously, noting any raised eyebrows, saddened expressions, or shocked countenances.
Hank nodded when the words stopped, scratching his chin, "Astral projection. Since her physical body was disabled, she projected herself to feed. And only on mutants?"
"Dey're all she could touch," Remy confirmed.
"And that's why she didn't just drain Farrat," Logan growled, almost regretfully.
Remy suddenly remembered Callisto's angrily worried voice barking at him. "Spyke okay, by de way?" he asked nobody in particular, hoping somebody knew. He and Rogue had caused the Morlocks much unnecessary strife.
Ororo nodded, "Yes. I visited the Morlocks this afternoon. He has recovered from the coma, told me what happened in the sewers." She seemed rather worried, yet smiled despite it. "A few of them were injured, but they are otherwise fine."
"Good," Remy said. He looked at Rogue, watched for her reaction to knowing Spyke was okay. She continued staring into space. He wished she would just glance at him. Why was she acting so peculiar? Did something happen that he failed to remember? Or did she simply cease caring? She could at least look concerned, angry, or annoyed--anything. The expressionless mask was heavily perturbing.
The Professor stared at his desktop, brow furrowed in thought as he digested the story. "Why did Annabel not seek our help?" he asked. "If only..."
"She didn't t'ink anybody could help," Remy said. "S'a sad story, but dere wasn' any way out of it for her."
"There was a way out. That's why she jumped."
All eyes turned to Rogue, whose sudden words had been chillingly cold and almost disdainful.
"Just jumped," she went on, eyes focused at some invisible thing on the floor, "like she didn't care, like the fight wasn't worth it. She gave up and jumped...and Ah'll never forget her sad eyes.... Pleading eyes."
Remy's ears perked. The statement seemed insignificant to everyone else but stirred a buried memory in himself. He did not want to remember it. Not here, not now.
"And she fell," Rogue continued. "She fell. And she died."
He searched her face for a clue. Who was she referring to now? It seemed impossible that she could possibly know what plagued him--but then again, she had absorbed him. Maybe now his poison was just surfacing. Maybe now he would truly pay for what he had done.
"And Ah couldn't do anything to stop her. Ah should have helped her, but Ah didn't, 'cause Ah couldn't, 'cause..."
Which one was she talking about? Did she see all of his memories, feel all his feelings? The deed hadn't bothered him as much before. He had managed to lie so effectively to himself that it only seemed like a petty tragedy. Once he realized the true folly of it, however, oh, was he sorry.
"Rogue," the Professor finally said, "I know you're feeling at fault for Annabel's death, but try to understand that it was her decision and you--"
"Could've done nothing to stop it," Rogue cut him off. "That's what they always say. But truth is, Ah could have done something--but Ah didn't. Ah watched her fall. Watched. She didn't want to die, she didn't deserve to die."
Who was she talking about, Remy was almost mad to know. His nerves grew more jittery by the second, his muscles taut. Nobody could tell how tense he was, but he had always been good at keeping a facade. He had always been good at fooling people, sometimes having them suffer because of him.
Without precedence, Rogue furiously shook her head. She rubbed her eyes and looked around the room as if surfacing from a trance. Drawing a breath, she said, "There's not a whole lot more to tell, unless ya want detailed descriptions of the action or something. Remy's..." For the first time during the entire meeting, she looked at him, but only for a fleeting second. it all."
"But we still don't know who the hell Farrat was workin' for," Logan reminded them. "He didn't want you, Stripes, some nameless freak does. One with red eyes and a shapeshiftin' sidekick. And he might be plannin' another attempt to snatch you."
Rogue shrugged nonchalantly, "Ah'll be ready if he does."
"Kid, I know you're tough, but you ain't invincible."
"Haven't Ah proven Ah can take care of myself?"
"And how were you able to do that so proficiently, Rogue?" the Professor asked suspiciously. "What Ray and Roberto described when you landed..."
Remy could hardly focus on the present subject. He stared continuously at Rogue, wishing he had some sort of telepathic ability so as to communicate privately with her. What do you know, chere? Are y'disgusted by it? Do y'hate me now? She seemed oblivious to him, arguing with Logan and the Professor.
"...give us a moment?" the Professor was saying. He settled Rogue with a level gaze and she looked blankly back at him. Her expression was almost exasperated.
When Hank took hold of the wheelchair, Remy did not protest. He couldn't help feeling resentful, despite the growing alarm in his mind. If this was the way she wanted to play it...
"Shall I take you back to the Med Bay?" Hank asked, once the door was closed to them.
Ororo and Logan were already walking down the hall together, talking in hushed voices.
Remy wondered just what they thought about everything, whether or not they believed his story. "Yeah, sure," he said to Hank. Then, as a side comment, "Dat meeting seemed a lil' pointless..."
Hank shrugged. "I'm sure the Professor just needed to know, so he could relay it to the other students. Everybody has been quite curious about how that jet landed in our backyard."
"Guess dey would be," Remy huffed. But they would never truly understand what he and Rogue had been through. Did he? Did she? He wasn't sure anymore.
---------------
"I thought you would feel more comfortable talking with less ears in the room," the Professor said.
Rogue crossed her arms. The Professor waited. Finally Rogue demanded, "What's there to talk about? Ya know everything now."
"This has obviously affected you a great deal, Rogue," the Professor said gently. "I am here to listen."
"What if Ah don't wanna share?"
"I think you do."
She closed her eyes, sighed, seemed to deflate in her chair. "Ah don't know what to think about it all. Ah can still feel it, Professor, what she was going through, what she felt when she was falling... She was so sad..." They were both so sad.
"You find the outcome of these events unjust," the Professor said. "And because Annabel was so like you, you have taken her choice to heart. People cope with things the only way they know how, Rogue, the only way they can."
"But she didn't have to jump!" Rogue exclaimed, eyes flashing angrily. "She gave up--just took the easy way out instead of fighting! God, anything can happen and she didn't even give it a chance. What if Ah had done what she did? Killed myself--not like Ah never thought about it, how easy it would've been..." She shook her head mournfully. "We might've been able to help her."
"Yes, we might have, but that is impossible to tell now."
"She died for us," Rogue murmured. "Said so herself. If she didn't die, everybody would still be in a coma. And Ah wouldn't be able to--" She abruptly stopped herself.
The Professor frowned, "Be able to what, Rogue. Would it explain what Ray and Roberto saw? How an invisible force kept the plane airborne, or how you used Scott's optic blast?"
Rogue ran her fingers over her mouth. Yeah.
The Professor's eyes widened at the sound of her voice in his mind. Recovering quickly, he replied, Have you absorbed Jean recently?
No. Ah can just do this now. Ah can phase like Kitty, eye-blast like Scott, magnetize like Magneto, freeze like Bobby, make cherry bombs like Tabitha--if Ah wanted to.
How?
Annabel did it.
What?
Don't ask me.
The Professor felt her suddenly cut off the psychic link. He poked at the surface of her mind and encountered a potent mental wall, stronger than the ones she had previously used to block out the problematic psyches. "Combined mutant abilities," he said in awe. "Rogue, do you realize...?"
"Yeah. No wonder somebody out there wants me so bad."
"But they cannot possibly know about this. They only see the potential." He contemplated the matter for a few minutes. Looking up, he asked, "And the psyches?"
"Gone. Ah mean, still there but they're different...Ah'm the one in control now. They don't attack me anymore. They can't."
The Professor whirred from behind the desk on his automated chair. He stopped at Rogue's side. "May I?"
She pulled off her gloves and he placed his hand over hers. "Funny, huh. All that time of brooding and bitterness...what am Ah gonna complain about now?" The words did not come out as blithe as she wanted them to.
The Professor patted her hand in a fatherly way. "How, I wonder, was Annabel able to do this. She was a powerful telepath, that much is obvious, but to grant you control of your powers...?"
Rogue refitted the glove over her hand, an action the Professor did not comment on. "She said the psyches weren't real, that she was going to give me what was missing. Ah don't really get it but at the same time...well, Ah have control."
"Not real..." The Professor seemed to be wracking his mind. "What could she mean by not real..." He remained silent for several mintes, then, "Hank and I have discussed and researched the nature of your powers, Rogue. We've even examined Scott on a number of occasions to try and figure out why he also can't control his powers."
"What does that have to do with anything," Rogue asked bluntly.
"Hank and I have a theory that Scott suffered some sort of head trauma as a child. From the occasional brain scans he's had, Hank has noticed some discrepancies in a certain area of his cerebrum, some bruises I suppose. That may be a reason he cannot control the optic blast. Some part of his mind was damaged so he lost that inborn ability. So in your case...perhaps you were born with that same part of your mind...incomplete."
Rogue pursed her lips dubiously. "Okay, suppose that's true. Still doesn't explain this."
"The psyches aren't real," the Professor said in a chant-like manner. "Not real...but if you can use their powers, how can they not be real, unless...powers...force...energy...unless they are a form of energy, energy that you tap into whenever you may please."
"What?"
"It's brilliant," the Professor said in awe. He smiled, released an amazed sigh. "Annabel understood the nature of your powers before any of us did, before even you. What an intelligent--or should I say empathetic--young woman.
"The psyches, Rogue, they are not real, indeed. If you had completely absorbed a person and taken their entire psyche, then yes, they would be considered 'real', but when you imprint only a part of them it is energy--their memories and powers--it is only stray energy. And this energy can be converted as the use of mutant abilities, like any form of energy can be transferred and transformed. Thermal into kinetic into electrical into mechanic... To be so insightful as to see it before all else, Annabel truly was a remarkable girl."
"But this doesn't make sense..." Rogue frowned. "Ah mean, how can it be so easy?"
"Think of it this way: how do Jean, Kitty, or any of the other students control their powers? It is an innate ability, one that is given at birth. You were born without a mind mature enough to manipulate the abilities of your mutation."
Rogue frowned, sorting through the information and inducing her own theories. "Okay...so does that mean Annabel just stuck some missing part of my brain back in?"
The Professor chuckled, "As much as that may be a possibility, Rogue, I do not think it could be that easy. No, Annabel was a powerful telepath, with rare abilities rooting from the unique genetic material of her mother mixed with that of her father..." His eyes clouded over at the thought. "You said that she spoke of 'giving' something to you. She must have...possibly...linked the incomplete synpases in your brain to give you control."
It was so simple, yet so profound. The answer to her questions, the cure to her curse. Rogue wanted to thank Annabel, but Annabel was dead. Annabel would never know the joy she had selflessly granted others. Who gave her the right to make such a sacrifice? Rogue did not deserve this chance for life, especially with her inability to deal with her paltry personal issues. Annabel was such a better person than her.
"Rogue?"
"Ah'm still here."
"I would think you to be happy with this new development."
"Ah am...but just...troubled."
"This has something to do with the debonair thief?"
Rogue huffed, "How'd ya guess."
"I sensed something while he was here," the Professor admitted.
Rogue saw the potentially uncomfortable direction of the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her love life with the Professor, no matter how much he behaved like the father she never had. "No offense, but it's personal stuff, Professor. Ah'll deal with it on my own."
"If it's taking a mental toll on you Rogue..."
"Why would ya think that?"
"A few minutes ago, before everyone left, you were muttering almost incoherently. I thought the psyches weren't bothering you anymore."
"They're not."
The Professor nodded in concession, "I'll take your word for it. You can always come to me for help, Rogue, you know that don't you?"
"Yes," she sighed. "Listen, Ah think Ah'm all talked out for one day. Are we done?"
"As long as you think we are. You don't wish to further discuss Annabel?"
Rogue tried not to hear her softly submissive voice, feel her forlorn sadness, see the hopelessness in her icy eyes... No, they were not icy. They were brown and warm. Coffee eyes. Pleading, gold-streaked coffee eyes. "No, Ah don't," she said, rising from her seat. "Ah'll...get over it eventually."
"You do not necessarily have to 'get over it', Rogue. It's okay to feel this way."
"Ah know," she said firmly. "Can Ah go now?"
The Professor cast her one last doubtful frown. Finally, he nodded.
Rogue made her way to the door, feeling his eyes on her back as she opened it. "Oh, and Professor?" she said, as a thought occurred ot her. "A favor?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell anyone about my powers," she said, rather hesitantly. "Ah wanna have a lil' time to...get used to the whole...to everything first."
The Professor nodded with understanding, "As you wish, Rogue."
"Thanks." She stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind her. Immediately she released a breath and closed her eyes. Everything would be okay. She had to believe all the tension would pass.
It was Annabel's choice. She had to respect Annabel's decision, not condemn her for it. Yet, she was so ready to condemn Remy for something she didn't even understand, a nameless, unknown deed she feared he had committed. Suddenly the thought of confronting him, of ruining that tangible dream of him, became insufferable.
But Ah have to know. Some girl died because of him... His guilt, his self-loathing... How had he hidden it so well?
Rogue's feet carried her down the hall, descended the stairs.
Did he do it himself--did she die at his hands?
Rogue stopped at the landing, heard voices approaching from the corridors below. She closed her eyes and concentrated. One second later she appeared at the Institute's broken front gate.
How had she failed to see it before?
Waving the sulfurous smoke away, Rogue continued walking, no destination in mind. They would be wondering about her, but she didn't care. She just needed some air.
How did he carry such a burden, live with the guilt day by day, wearing that mask of alacrity?
Tears sprang into Rogue's eyes, but she quickly brushed them away. He was no different than her, than everybody else. All people wore masks, but his covered something that even she had initially been unable to see, feel, it was buried so deep inside. He wasn't as carefree as she had believed.
I really have the stop with the hinting and spontaneous developments of plot. This is going to be one hellishly complicating sequel. And you thought "Demon in my View" was twisted...
I just realized I haven't been doing this lately
Next Chapter: Relief