I know, I know, this is two weeks late, but I've got this college application thing happening, and a six page economics report on the great depression due way too soon. If anyone wants to send me his or her 6-page report, I'd be much obliged. Also, you may or may not have noticed the story has been slightly revised. Nothing major, seriously, mostly grammar and spelling stuff. Something new: Reponses before the story! Thanks for reviewing! Do it again.
Xpoisonedxangelx: You think Bella's going to end up with Pietro? Wouldn't that be a weird twist! Maybe a little too weird! Thanks a bunch!
Star-Of-Chaos: The microphone thing would be a good plot device…let's hope I'm smart enough to use it! (Sometimes, I'm not). Thanks so much for your review!
Sweety8587: I like pineapples. They go well with coconuts. They make pina colada, which is just the best ever! Almost as good as getting reviews. Thank you!
Ishandahalf: I want you to know this took so long just because you thought it would. I lived up to your expectations. It's all part of the self-fulfilling prophecy. Why, why did you make this come so late!? And I was being so good, too.
EmeraldKatseye: There is no loophole! Rogue knows that Remy once had a fiancé, but she doesn't know that she's back. That's the whole catch. Remy already told Rogue that he and Bella are over, but now he's keeping secrets from Rogue for her. So ha.
Dreamschemer: Thank you for your review! You're so nice. I never need blush, just to read a few reviews!
Goddess Evie: You seem a little too happy to see Bella so desperate. Aw, who am I kidding. I love seeing Bella struggle, she's so awful here. Quite the contrast to my other fic. It's strange. I'm writing up that list of People Who Need to Be Taken Care Of. It won't be finished though, 'til after I see my finals. Thanks so much!
Flyby Stardancer: Thanks for the review! Come again soon and I'll give you a cookie!
Fudje: Bella/Rogue and Pietro/Remy? That certainly would be messed up pairings! From now on, I shall learn from you and make sure the pairing I threat you with are QUITE twisted! Thanks for the lesson! (How does Beast/Pete strike you? Twisted? Or Xavier/Wanda?)
Dreamcatcher89: Clowns are evil! I need protection from them! And thank you much for the review.
Analis Destiny: Reading your reviews were so nice and so much fun! I loved getting them. Thanks! Come again and I'll give a cookie! We have three flavors: Good, Great, and Only On the Floor for 17 Seconds.
Cold Contagious: You aren't the only hoping for Bella's death. Here's hoping everyone gets what they want!
We've Met Before
Chapter Nine
One room: a couch, a TV, a phone.
Bamf.
Second Room: a bed with blue blankets, a nightstand, a framed picture of Jean Grey.
Bamf.
Third Room: a messy bed, a shredded lampshade, blue jeans hanging in the closet.
Bamf.
Fourth Room: a couch, a TV, a phone… and a hundred or so red and gold balloons. Kurt Wagner was searching the mansion for any sign of his lost watch when he came across the strange sight. The balloons hovered in the air like a great multitude of bobbing heads. Up and down they went, nodding hello to the blue elf.
For what occasion were they meant? Kurt frowned. He'd appointed himself something of a morale officer for the X-Men, because they'd been doing rather poorly in that regard, ever since Kitty's accident. But was he already failing, forgetting some holiday, a birthday, a planned celebration?
Curiously, Kurt reached out with his hand to touch one of the balloons. The rubbery material looked strained, so he made sure to be careful, though in the end his efforts proved futile. At the very moment they made contact, the balloon and him, it exploded into a mass of colorful confetti. He blew a few scraps of it from his nose and noticed a paper had fallen out of the balloon as well. Kurt bent over, picked it up, and unrolled the message.
His yellows eyes blinked and then, just to make sure, he touched another balloon and watched it explode as well. A quiet sigh escaped his lips. Some days, there was no getting any break.
Bamf.
"Ah can't believe this," Rogue said, ten minutes later, after Kurt had brought her and an assortment of the others to the room. "Now, we're bein' attacked by confetti? Ah swear folks just ain't takin' us seriously."
"Yeah, they wouldn't do this to the Avengers." Someone else said. Most of the younger mutants chuckled in response, muttering their agreements in hushed voices. Rogue was glad; the less serious they took the strange attack, the better… at least for the moment. Xavier, Storm, Logan, and Beast were gone, testifying before the Senate to keep yet another anti-mutant bill from becoming law; Jean and Scott had taken the afternoon off to enjoy a bit of the summer sunshine, before it faded away into dreary autumn. With their core leadership out for the day, they didn't need to be seized by any kind of panic.
Though, Rogue knew, things were serious. Someone, an invisible enemy, had twice infiltrated their home. The mansion was supposed to be a sanctuary, their refuge, but now it was compromised. And the faceless bastard knew it; he was mocking them with his demented clowns and colorful balloons.
She unfolded the paper that had fallen out of the balloon again. After so many readings, she should've known better than to hope its message had changed, but she hoped anyway. The paper had wrinkled, but its typed note was clear as ever. In Jokerman font, and purple print, it read: Dr. Johan Franklin's secrets are going to be sold to the highest bidder. That means mucho money, X-Idiots.
Rogue shut it quickly, before any of the younger kids could read it. They hadn't been given access to the actual note. No one was supposed to know about Dr. Franklin's real purpose. That assignment hadn't changed. But in a calm voice, she asked Kurt, "Did ya send Mr. Clark ta the safe room?"
The 'safe room', as they called it, was a good-sized area designed to keep any guests out of harm's way, if the mansion itself was attacked. Security there was exceptional. Clark didn't appear to be in any current danger, but the fact that his secret was out to someone was enough to warrant placement in the safe room. At least, Rogue hoped so. With everyone of higher rank gone, she'd been the one to make the call and the man hadn't been thrilled about the idea.
"Ja," the blue elf responded with a nod. "He's all set."
"Good. Has anyone been able to contact Scott yet?" The Senate meeting couldn't be disturbed, but Scott's date was an entirely different story. The sooner he came back, the sooner everyone would start to settle down.
"His cell's ringing, but there's no answer." Jubilee said. "I think they're avoiding us. They want privacy."
"Somebody give me a phone," Rogue instructed, holding out a glove-clad hand. There was shuffling around her, and then a small cell phone was placed in her open palm. She quickly dialed a number. It was a secret number. Once, in the middle of a tennis game, she and Scott had tossed around the idea of a special number code. To be dialed, of course, only in the event of an emergency. It was an attention-getter kind of thing. Nothing had ever come of that discussion, especially since they were designing new communicator devices that would allow contact across the globe. But she remembered the number they'd suggested. 815165: hope. Her text message sent, she hung up and waited to see if he'd recall and phone her back.
There was a good four seconds where everyone watched her watch the phone, no one quite sure of what would happen next. And then… "Riiiing," the phone screeched. Rogue answered it with a small smile, pleased at herself.
"Scooter?" She asked.
"Scott or Cyclops, Rogue," he reminded her sternly. "You sent the emergency number. I can't believe you remember that. What's happened? Is everyone all right?"
"We're all fine here, but there's been another invasion, we think. Someone's come an' left a whole lot o' balloons filled with uh, junk."
"Junk? Is that a technical term?"
"Yeah." Feeling eyes boring into her, Rogue turned around and discovered that everyone was still watching her conversation with Scott, curiosity brightening their faces. "Scott, will ya hold on a sec? Ah want Kurt ta join us." She gestured to her peers, sending all but Kurt from the room. Him, she pulled closer. The others weren't happy, but they were more or less used to it. Their status on the team was still questionable, and it wasn't uncommon for them to be cast away the minute things started to be too serious.
"This person knows about Dr. Franklin," she continued, "An' that ain't all. We checked the cameras for any sign o' the intruder, but there weren't any tapes. Turns out, Mr. McCoy shut 'em this mornin' ta run an efficiency scan. Ya know, he doesn't tell many people 'bout that."
"So what are you suggesting?" Scott asked.
When Rogue didn't answer, Kurt offered his voice. "I can tell you vhat others are saying," he said, "they're saying no one could've done this vithout insider help. I don't vant to believe it myself, but many are already convinced. They believe there's a… a traitor in the mansion."
Rogue expected as much, but hearing its said aloud affected her nonetheless. Of all the things to deal with…
A traitor. It wasn't her. She'd met with Remy several times, but never betrayed any of the valuable information the strange invader was privy to. Her and Remy didn't even talk about X-Men/Acolyte stuff; it was a rule. That's why the rule was in place. But the younger X-Men were impetuous, eager, and hungry for answers. If they found out, they'd believe she'd turned on them.
The senior X-Men wouldn't. They knew her. To a certain extent, they trusted her. And besides that, they had Jean, Betsy, and Xavier to verify her story. She could tell them…but once they knew, they'd want her to end it; they'd call it an act of security. For the good of everyone, they'd say, the affair with Remy would have to cease. Problem was, she didn't want it to. How would she make them understand that? Maybe that's what a traitor really was, and she was one of them: a person who could save her friends a lot of trouble and prevent a disaster, just by confessing a little, only she doesn't because it would cost her too much personally. Maybe traitor was just another name for selfish.
"Don't let them take that route," Scott warned at last. "Once they get in that mentality, it'll be hard to break. Listen, Jean and I will be there soon. In the meantime, keep them out of the area where the incident occurred and give them busy work. Have them search for footprints or something, just so they feel they're being helpful. I don't want a witch hunt against one of our own."
"Sure thing, Scott." Rogue pulled phone away from her ear and crossed her arms, watching Kurt finish up with the goodbyes. Sure thing. She wondered if he'd have been less inclined to delegate her authority if he'd known how she'd been spending her free time.
The miniskirt was short. Colorful, like a smear of rainbow colored finger paints, soft and shimmering, as though it would melt into any hand that touched it, and clingy, so that it rode up with each step of its owner. Bella paused in the stairway to adjust her pajama bottoms, blushing lightly as she realized she had the attention of the Acolyte boys. "Oh, my," she exclaimed, her accent thick like molasses, "Ah better start wearin' a robe, non?"
Remy rolled his eyes. That was Bella, the actress, the drama queen. Her play-acting had been cute and endearing in their early youth, but now she just came across as flat out insincere. Well, mostly insincere. There was still a bit of the bright-eyed assassin he'd once loved in her.
Bella made her way to the couch and took a seat beside Remy, dropping her head against his shoulder. Her hair made a wave of crashing gold that decorated half of his torso. He caught a lock in his hands and spun it around, recalling the nights he'd fallen asleep with her hair in his face, her body hogging most of the covers. Absently, he wondered what kind of pajamas Rogue slept in.
"So tell me, what do y' boys do here all day?" Bella asked. "Just sit an' watch da walls grow moldy?"
"Something like that," John answered with a grin. He sunk down onto the couch space beside Bella. "But then, we've never had a girl to show us how to have fun proper."
"An' here I thought I'd be crampin' yo' style."
"Y' crampin' my style," Remy complained.
"Don't be such a baby."
"Go away an' I promise t' improve."
"Sticks an' stone'll break my bones, but words will never hurt me."
"Dat's 'cause you too dense t' understand 'em. Nothin' I'd be braggin' 'bout."
"Don't know how you've got room t' talk, boy. As it is, I had t' teach y' somet'in' 'bout English myself."
"What, how t' fail it?" Remy guessed.
"Aw, look at you," John said, dryly. "Just like an old married couple." He made a gagging face.
Remy and Bella looked at each other and for just the briefest moment, smiled. Henri had been the same way, always complaining because the couple was too involved in each other to notice there was a third member of their little group. Third Wheel Henri, he'd once nicknamed himself, though the title hadn't stuck at all. Shortly after, he'd met a girl named Merci and fallen faster than a bowling dropped from Heaven.
The moment passed and Remy released Bella's hair. He couldn't do it, jugglethe Bella problem andhis relationship with Rogue at the same time.It was going to drive him insane, and he wouldn't be any good to either girl. Maybe that's what Bella really wanted. Hewouldn't put something like that past her."I'm goin' for a mornin' run."
"Perhaps I could accompany you," Piotr suggested. "Quicksilver's program died again last night, so I must train the old fashioned way… on the sidewalk."
"I don't know," Remy sighed. "Can y' keep up?"
"Can you?"
The young Cajun boy shrugged. "Get ready. We leave in a few minutes."
"I can't see anything." Jamie exclaimed.
"Neither can I." Another Jamie agreed.
"Me either." Chimed in his third counterpart.
Together, the three of them sighed and pouted in unison.
Sam shook his head. "Ya ain't gonna find footprints if ya keep searchin' the walls. Why don't ya try checkin' the ground for a few minutes, maybe surprise ya'self."
"But Sam," the three identical boys stepped together, somehow falling into the same body. "That would be so conventional, using the floor to get in and out of the room. Our guy isn't like that. He's different. Maybe he's not even human, that's how come he knows so much about us and when to invade without the cameras being on. His disembodied spirit could be floating around us, even as we speak."
Tabitha heard them talk. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the boys, especially naïve little Jamie. "Come on, kids," she told them, "let's not fool ourselves. The truth is, someone here's a little rat. This whole searching for footprints is a waste of time. We should be checking out everyone's alibis, not scouring the floor with the small hope that Mr. Invader left a few clues for us to find."
"We don't know for sure that anyone here is involved." Jamie reminded her in a serious tone.
"Yeah, but we don't know for sure that anyone here ain't involved," Sam said. "An' wouldn't ya rather be sure? The way things are now, we're all gonna be wonderin' all the time, bein' suspicious o' each other."
"It was probably Tabitha anyway!" Jamie declared. "Isn't she part of the Brotherhood?"
"Hey!" The blonde cried, slapping Jamie with the back of her hand. "I'm not the only one who's had dealing with the Brotherhood. Just before it was our time, that's no reason to forget that Rogue was once a member herself. And all that time she's spent with Risty, who was really Mystique. And then her tear across Bayville… it took the whole team, just to subdue her!"
"Let's not forget, Tabby, it was all your minds that were possessin' me that day."
None of the three mutants turned around to see the girl that was obviously standing behind them. What were they going to say, sorry for doubting your allegiance to the team, especially since you're currently in charge of it? And while we're at it, sorry for using the fact that your mother/best friend turned out to be a shape-shifting mutant who used you so she could gain access to the X-Men's base, but then we turned that information against you. Sam stared at the ground, all the while running a nervous hand through his sandy blonde hair. "We didn't mean nothin' Rogue, Tabs was just spoutin' garbage, like always."
"Ugh. Whatever." The blonde threw up her hands and headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to go check if the Mr. Invader left footprints on the chocolate espresso ice cream."
Rogue sighed. A hand patted her back. Carol Danvers came into view, smiling. "Wow. There's a lot I don't know about you, Rogue. I thought you were one of those obvious people. You know, the kind who you can take one look at and know instantly every hope and dream they've ever had. But you're a little more complex than that, aren't you. How come you never told me you were a member of the Brotherhood for a while? Why were you a member of the Brotherhood? They look kind of slimy."
"They are kind o' slimy." Rogue pinned her hair up with a clip and shrugged. "If Ah never told ya, it's 'cause Ah ain't particularly proud o' that time in my life. It's easy ta use someone. Guess Ah made an easy target back then."
"And now?"
"Now, Ah'm just waitin' for Cyclops ta come back home so people can stop buggin' me."
Piotr was fast. Powerful. In a race with any normal man, he'd have the clear advantage. But in a race with Remy LeBeau, a great thief, a gifted athlete with more than a touch of unnatural agility, the Russian was outmatched. After some number of miles, he fell back, unable to keep up the pace the Cajun had set. So Remy moved alone, with the wind blowing cool air kisses onto his face and bare chest, the sunshine pouring over his head like rain.
When he was a far enough distance from his running partner, Remy stopped. Backed into a quiet alley. Pulled his hood over his head, and took out his phone. He wanted to see Rogue again. He wished he could. But with Bella hanging around all the time, things were that much more complicated. He couldn't let them start to spiral out of control. He dialed Rogue's number, the one he'd stolen from her wallet when she wasn't looking.
"Hello?" Her voice. "Cyclops?"
He'd never been called that before, or at least not since the major accident that had put him in the hospital for a month, with half his head bandaged so that only one eye was visible. Remy grinned at the memory. "Chere? Y' can call m' whatever y' want t'."
He was not on the other end of the line. No. He wouldn't do that. He wasn't that stupid. Rogue stared at the phone in her hands… not her cell, not any kind of private line, just the main phone. The one that was connected in a thousand different rooms. Anyone could've picked it up. Anyone could listen in. And he was talking….
He was that stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Rogue didn't know how to respond. She had to say something; everyone's eyes were on her. They thought maybe it was Scott, calling to give them better orders. It wasn't Scott. It was Remy. Stupid, stupid Remy, who had to have the worst timing in the world.
"Ah'm sorry." She said carefully. "We already have a vacuum cleaner, Sir."
"In dat case, can I interest y' in a charmin', dashin', adorable boy? He's even potty trained."
Rogue flushed. "Maybe ya can call back later." She emphasized the word 'later'. Much later, if he wanted to live.
"Listen, I'm sorry 'bout callin' up da mansion. Lucky y' answered, neh? Saved me a bit o' lyin'. Listen, Roguey, we got t' talk an' I don't t'ink I'll have a chance t' call back any time soon. Somet'in's come up."
"Hang up," Jubilee advised, hovering near the phone. "We don't need any telemarketers right now."
"Maybe it's really the invader guy," Lorna suggested. "He's playing another trick. Is there any way we can check the phone line and see who's calling? You know, match a voice or something?"
"No!" Rogue cried. "Ah mean, we can do that, just let's wait until Mr. McCoy comes back. Ah think he's been doin' somethin' with a phone an' we don't wanna mess that up." Her words sounded floppy, sloppy, and thin. And it was all Remy's fault.
"We need a break, Chere." He said, just as she was getting ready cut him off.
"What? We do?" She hadn't intended her voice to be so loud.
"Don't let them sell you with those gimmicks."
"Damn it. Pete's catchin' up. Look, I'll get back t' y' in a few weeks." Remy's end of the line went dead. Rogue blinked. What the hell…
"Who was on the phone?" Scott asked, coming to the center of the group. Behind him, Jean Grey stepped into view, her alert eyes already sifting through people's faces, trying to get a better idea of what had happened. Rogue was forced to once again banish all her thoughts of the Cajun boy to the darkest place of her mind, lest the telepath catch on.
"No one important," Rogue sighed. "Ah better show ya the room."
Piotr gave Remy a strange look. "Why did you stop running?"
"T' let you catch up," He answered. "Y' were laggin' so damn far behind, I felt sorry for y'."
"Oh. I see." But he didn't see. Remy rolled his eyes.
"I'm gon' start runnin' again. Dis time y' on y' own, so try an' keep up. Just pretend Magneto's ordered y' t' beat me, all right? Maybe it'll provide some incentive. We just go three mo' laps an' head home." He bent down to tie his shoe. "Oh, an' by da way, when we get back home, remind me t' show y' da necklace."
"Necklace?" Piotr wondered.
"Just remind me."
Later…
Once everything was quiet, Rogue found herself wishing she could have her conversation with Remy again. What, she wanted to know, had come up? What was going on? Her hands itched to throttle him, demanding that he give her a better explanation than just 'sorry, see you in a while'. A voice told her that he was right; the temporary separation was coming at a good time, for the both of them, apparently. And as they said, absence made the heart grow fonder… but her heart was fond enough.
Rogue sighed and knocked on Carol's door. The two of them were scheduled to train together –Rogue had accepted the position of sparring partner to the blonde since Kitty's accident. Slowly the door opened. In fatigues and a baseball cap, Carol seemed more eager and more ready for a fight than she ever had before. Even her blue eyes seemed harder. Rogue didn't think anything of it, though, because that wave of change had been circulating around the mansion all day. People didn't plan on being caught aware again.
"Ah'm so ready ta go blow up artificially created bad guys," Rogue confessed. "Let's get goin'."
"I agree," Carol said, bending the bill of her hat. "When I hit a fake sentinel, its like all of my inner frustration has finally found an escape route. I've only been here a short while, but I swear, the Danger Room feels more comfortable for me than this room you guys gave me. Not that the room isn't great, understand."
"Ah get it." Rogue answered with a nod. "Believe me, Ah get it."
"That's what I like about you, Rogue. If you just skim the surface, we don't seem to have all that much in common, but we agree where it really counts. Its funny, I told my mom about you the other day and she couldn't believe that we could stand to be in the same room together, let alone that we were on the fast track to true friendship. To be honest, it kind of snuck up on me how much I liked talking to you."
"Ya weren't the only one surprised."
Carol grinned. "Hey, do you like chocolate?"
"More n' Ah ought ta."
"Well, I just got this huge batch of chocolate candy from my mom. It was her birthday, and she gave me a gift. I told her not to, but she never listens. She's stubborn as hell, I swear." Suddenly, the smile dropped from Carol's face like a piece of melting caramel. "I'm so sorry. They told me a little about Mystique, but I didn't even think of it when I was talking. I didn't mean to rub your face in anything."
"Ah'm fine." Rogue insisted. For once, she hadn't been thinking of the shape-shifter. Her thoughts had been far too busy dealing with Remy's behavior. But she made up an excuse for Carol, anyway. "Its actually nice ta talk ta someone who forgets about her. It makes it easier for me ta do the same. An' besides, Ah'm glad for ya. At least some o' us gotta have good family lives."
"Are you sure?"
"Ah'm positive."
"But are you really, really sure, or just kind of, Carol's already put someone in the hospital, let's not make her feel any worse than she already does sure?"
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Carol."
"Fine." The other girl sighed.
They both studied their shoes for a moment. Rogue wound up studying the difference between the two pairs. She wore neat, black pair of boots that she'd gotten for Christmas and only used during training programs, while Carol had on a set of green sandals that showcased newly painted nails. It had to be nice, she thought, being invulnerable.
"So about that chocolate," the blonde said quietly. "Do you want some? If you don't take a little off my hands, it's going to end up taking the grand trip down my throat and straight to my thighs and nobody wants that. Between all that's happening, the last thing I need is to start gaining weight."
"Ah can't imagine extra weight would look very good under the uniforms we wear." She acknowledged.
"What's up those, anyway?"
"They're made out o' special material that's meant ta allow us movement, use o' powers, that kind o' stuff. Ya can only imagine what would happen if we didn't have those. Considerin' the battles we have, most the team would wind up naked when they're clothes froze up, burned off, etcetera, etcetera."
Carol wrinkled her nose. "That wouldn't exactly be a pretty sight. Depending, of course, on who the team consisted of that day. There's still a guy or two I wouldn't mind getting a better look at."
"Ugh. Ya aren't still castin' a romantic eye towards Scott, are ya? 'Cause his whole world revolves around telepathic, telekinetic redheads named Jean and battle strategies."
"Romance has nothing to do with it." The girl winked. "And after all, I heard you yourself were a little wrapped up in the boy for quite a while. Isn't it a tad bit hypocritical of you to be telling me I'm off my rocker for dreaming of the possibility?"
The Scott Crush felt like a world ago. Another Rogue. That was all before, she thought. "Well, ya can't tell me nothin'. Ah've always got ta learn it for myself. Are ya that way, too?"
"Nope. I don't like wasting my time." Carol shrugged. "But then, maybe the experience would do me good."
"Hmm."
"So, you want to get the chocolate right now? We can have a piece on the way over to the Danger Room."
Rogue was tempted to say no. It was true that chocolate was one of her passions, but it was always a rather private one. She loved to eat it alone, with her gloves off, so that she could lick up her fingers when she was done. It struck her as being vaguely childish, the idea of purposely getting food on her hands, but so long as no one ever saw her, it didn't seem to matter much.
"Or, I could just give it to you and you could drop it off at your room on the way over." Carol added.
"Sure." Rogue answered, thankful for the alternative.
"Come on, it's just in my room." Together, they moved to go through the door. Rogue was careful to give the other girl space. She didn't want to crowd, push, or worse, touch her. The half step she left between them was almost an unconscious action.
And then it happened.
She wasn't sure how.
It couldn't have happened.
She was careful.
But it happened anyway…
Before she even realized what was going on, there was a familiar sensation was coursing through her, flooding her head with strange visions. Memories, emotions, energy, they all came bundled as one big package that she couldn't send away. But this time, it was almost different. One minute, she was fighting to keep her mind clear and stop the contact, and the next, something was sucking it all back out of her. Only it didn't stop by taking the new memories, it started pulling at her own. Back and forth it went, filling her up and emptying her out until she was dizzy, confused, and sick to her stomach.
Finally, she stumbled back so the contact was broken. Through unfocused eyes, she saw Carol Danvers fall to the ground like an over-sized rag doll. And then her legs gave out beneath her and she fell, too. The world disappeared as she hit the floor. At least her strange day was over.
