Sorry for the lateness… in the spirit of conciseness… scroll down to you see the chappy.
Dreamcatcher89: You're a paranoid person? Ah, me too! And heck, because you're so cool… you get the cookie, anyway. Thanks so much for reviewing. Do it again some time.
IvyZoe: You're wish for a Rogue/Joe flirtation is a common one, apparently. Maybe there will be cause for him to be a wee bit jealous. As for all those other speculations, well… you'll have to read more! Ha. Thanks.
Lady Godiva: I wish I could make things easy for Remy and Rogue but… oh, wait. I can. Aw, but who would read that story? Thanks for the interest and review again.
Silver Ink: Remy was sort of mean to Petey, but he was in a foul mood, too. And maybe our favorite Russian could use that jolt? Maybe. Thank you for the review!
Cult-of-Misha: I like your name. It sounds fun. Hope you enjoy this chapter, too.
Sweety8587: Hey… could I borrow that flamethrower? And no, I would never use it on current X-writers. :)
Fudje: The fence was asking for it! A month counts as soon… right? I'm sorry. Review anyway. Ha.
Sinister Bra: I absolutely loved your reviews. I loved that 'aha!' sense you seemed to have. I won't confirm or disprove a thing you said (mostly because I'm a cruel, cruel person) but perhaps this chapter will? I really do hope you review again, hearing what you think is so much fun! Thanks a bunch.
Emerald K: I shake my head at you, o' review who hasn't read the chapter!
Speck: You know, you reviewed another fic and I never got to thank you. Or say that I would most definitely chose an African swallow, since they'd be more able to carry that one-pound coconut. Even if they are non-migratory. I love how paranoid and suspicious of circumstances you sound. For confirmation or not, read on! And thanks so very much.
Dark Wolf Girl15: Hey, thanks a bunch! You rock!
BananaPanda: Where am I going with Clark? Heck, I don't even know! Okay, I totally do, but still… if I answered all questions, where would the mystery be? Thanks for the interest. Hope to see you soon!
Dreamschemer: How do I cover up the fact that I'm blue? Well, I do what all non-shape shifting blue people do: use an image inducer! Ha. Yay! Cookies. Me love cookies. Me… er, right. Glad you enjoyed my take on the Carol-Rogue exchange.
Ishandahalf: You say you're going insane, but really, doesn't that imply you aren't already there? I think perhaps I won't discuss the presence of Joseph because it seems to make you… uh… not react at all well. And, at the moment, I am in need of this life of mine, however pitiful it may be. So I'll just smile and calmly step back. Right. That seems like a good plan… (btw, you know a lot of people want Joe and Rogue to have a thing…hmm…do I go with what you want, or popular opinion?)
Moonjava, AnimeSiren, raye, and enchantedlight: Cookies and champagne, for all of you! Thanks!
Chica De Los Ojos Café: Hey where did we go, days when the rains came? Okay, sorry, I just can't see your name and not think of that song. It's catchy! Thanks for the review.
Fudgebrownie: Coconuts are the best ever! Joseph was a Magneto clone guy that Rogue once brought home, this stirring up jealousy and tension. Fun, neh?
Rebel Rogue: Yes, Joe is and thanks, oh, so much! You rule! Come again?
Rosalina: You'd be surprised how many people have shared your opinion of Joe! Wow. I expected torches and such! Thanks for the interest and the review and the new review you're gonna give me riiiiight now. :)
MwrulesC: I'm glad you like the way this all played out! I'm even gladder you reviewed! Thanks!
We've Met Before
Chapter Eleven
The knock was furious, like thunder in a stormy sky, a sound not to be ignored. But Scott Summers almost didn't care. He was too busy thinking about… well… Rogue. As a persistenthand kissed the wood hard, again and again, he gave strong consideration to possibility of ignoring it completely. Because if he pulled back that knob and found a squirmy man peddling vacuum cleaners, there was a very real chance he'd lose his mind and blast the salesman into the next city. Unfortunately, the manners won out, and he stepped up to the door, a frustrated 'hello' all ready on his tongue.
A 'hello' that morphed, rapidly, into a "What the hell do you want?"
The Cajun met him with dark and depthless eyes, cold, burning, daring at the same time. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, though, and awkward posture suggested he'd at least temporarily traded in insolence and arrogance for something more humble. "Can I talk t' Rogue?"
"I'd like to help you," Scott said, and that was mostly a lie, "but she isn't in."
The Cajun ran his tongue along a chafed lower lip and nodded. "It's… important."
"Then I'm sorry."
"Please?"
Scott crossed his arms and frowned. "Does Magneto know the two of you are dating?"
Gambit frowned a bit. "Not exactly. Rogue… she told you? About us?"
Scott shook his head in response. "Not exactly," he said, borrowing the phrase. "We learned that you were spending a considerable amount of time together. Either the two of you were dating, or she was selling information. I seriously doubt it was the latter."
"Oh," Gambit answered.
"What are you doing here?"
"It's a personal matter," the Cajun stressed.
"That's not what I meant. You didn't know I knew about you and Rogue, but you came here anyway. If this afternoon hadn't happened, your appearance here would've been a huge surprise and Rogue's privacy would've been violated. So my question to you is… why?"
He heard a sigh, and recognized frustration. Apparently, that sentiment was all the rage. Gambit looked up at him then, and something red flickered, as though Scott had inadvertently woken a fire-breathing dragon lying deep in the core of Remy's being. His fingers dug a bit into the wood; he'd read all the files on the Acolytes, knew all about the Cajun's powers of persuasion. But no weak, the Summers mind, aided by his psionic bond with a powerful telepath, and he felt he had a fairly good chance of holding his own with the Cajun.
But…
The test of wills was not to be held on the porch of Xavier's school, as something beeped and Jean's voice filled the property. "Scott, we need you down here. It's Kitty."
He nodded as if she could see him, and motioned to shut Gambit out.
"Oh, and… I think you should bring Gambit. I think we need to talk to him, too."
He pursed his lips, thinking… Damn it!
Reunions on television were always quite the spectacle, especially reunions of the estranged mother-daughter variety. Their eyes would meet and emotional walls, grown tall and hard from years of drama and angst, would sink as though in quicksand. The daughter would rush on speedy toes to regain the sacred comfort of her mother's arms, and the pair of them would feel at once as though they'd never been separated. There would be considerable amounts of sobbing, lots of embracing, and not a few repeated words of comfort passed between them.
Darkholme reunions were, on the other hand, quite different. Rogue didn't know if that was because they were better at bottling up emotions, or just more real than the broadcasted families. Whatever the reason, her return to Mississippi found her and Irene sitting quietly at opposite ends of the oak table, two mugs of steaming coffee and a small plate of chocolate chip cookies between them.
"Where's Mystique?" She wondered.
"Called away, unexpectedly. We anticipate her return within the next three days. She wanted to be here."
"Ah'm sure there was some building filled with innocent civilians that needed exploding."
"Rogue-"
"An important diplomat on his way ta the UN who had ta be exterminated."
"Rogue-"
"An big scientific breakthrough that might've cured cancer but posed a possible threat fifty years from now."
"Rogue!" Irene said. "Stop it. We aren't in the business of murder for murder's sake. Sometimes, drastic steps need to be taken. Do you have any idea what kind of world you'd be living in if people like Mystique weren't around?"
"A good one," Rogue snorted.
"No, Rogue. A world where people like that General Stryker on TV could go about unchecked. They'd could have us lined up against the walls by now, or strapped up on a laboratory table."
Rogue swallowed her sigh along with a gulp of coffee. This was going to get her nowhere. Luckily, Joseph chose that time to re-enter the kitchen, a box of chocolate truffles in hand. "I thought you might want to celebrate a little," he explained, settling the candy on the center of the table. "I bought these just for the occasion."
In the kitchen lighting, everything about him was a little more exposed. The silver of his hair, the gray of his eyes closer to translucent, the genuine expression… she couldn't have imagined anyone who looked less like Remy. Yet, oddly, he was familiar. She turned towards Irene. "Have y'all noticed he looks an awful lot like-"
"Yes." Irene answered.
"Where'd he come from?"
Her questions earned her a sigh. "We aren't sure. Mystique found him, bloodied and unconscious. His body has since returned to adequate health, but his memory is incomplete. All he can remember is the name Joseph, and for all we know it's the name of his favorite soap opera star."
"Except," Joseph interjected, stealing a place for himself at the table. "I don't like soap operas."
"Ya have amnesia," Rogue stated. She knew what that was like.
"Yes."
"He does have full command of his studies, though. Him being an engineer and all, we hired him for a very important project. One I believe will have great significance for you, Rogue."
"It's called the Chamber right now," Joseph explained. "And current plans keep it stationary, but I believe once I actualize the thing, I'll be able to find a way to make it mobile."
"Y'all have kind o' lost me," Rogue said. "What does this Chamber do?"
"Grants the fair lady her fondest desire," Joseph said with a smile. "It negates the x-gene. Specifically gives you back your ability to make physical contact."
The first and most important thing both men noticed was that Katherine Pryde was awake. Head propped up on a fluffy pink pillow and still bandaged on random parts of her body, she sipped quietly from a striped straw held up to her lips by Jean Grey. Still visibly sick –for she lacked that vibrant, glowing quality that seemed so fundamentally her- Kitty spared a look at them.
"Hey," Scott said, scooting up behind the bed, grinning encouragingly. "You're awake."
She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a garbled 'duh'.
"It was the noise," Jean said after a moment, speaking in that detached tone that always meant she was interpreting someone else's thoughts. "We- the screaming was really loud, I guess."
"Sorry," Scott responded.
"She's glad. Her dreams of have been haunted."
"By what?"
Jean frowned and removed the water glass away from the brunette girl.
"Carol." Kitty whispered on her own, grimacing a bit. "She… did this."
Scott shifted uncomfortably at the accusation. "Kitty, we talked to her after. She was really broken up by the accident." He paused as the girl rolled her eyes. "What is it?"
A glance up, and then Jean was speaking again. "They were training together in the courtyard, her and Carol, and she had to use the restroom. After she was through, she decided that phasing through the walls would be a quicker way to get back, instead of using the doors like normal people. As a result, she was caught Carol off guard. Carol was on the phone to someone. The subject of conversation sounded incriminating. Kitty meant to sneak back inside and tell someone, but she stumbled and Carol noticed."
"And attacked her." Scott said.
"Yes."
"What was the phone call about?"
"They mentioned Carol's mission. And something about… Falcon Four!" That last part came out a gasp, and was all Jean. The redhead's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Falcon Four. I know who they are. Way back when we first rescued Wolverine from the Weapon X project, I sifted through a lot of minds to find his location. There were a lot of mentions of Falcon Four… a black ops program designed to train mutants to be government soldiers."
"We need to talk to Carol. Right. Now."
"She's… gone."
"What?"
Jean sighed. "She's not on the grounds anymore."
"Hey," Kitty whispered, sounding rasp, "Where's Rogue?"
"She ran away," Gambit answered, for the first time stepping up to join the X-Men. He gave the girl an even stare. "She came t' see me an' was… visibly upset, but caught us at a bad time."
"Bad how?" That was from Kurt.
"I was… kissin' me ex-fiancé. It didn't mean nothin'…. It was goodbye, but she didn't…" He looked down.
"Crap." All eyes turned to Jean, who at least blushed before going on. "The argument here would've been just before she showed up at Gambit's. No wonder she wasn't in the mood for explanations. Carol accidentally absorbed Rogue –don't ask how- and kind of… let the cat out of the bag, in regards to her relationship with Gambit. I'm afraid we weren't very good at responding."
"You didn't… blame her?" Kitty sighed.
"No." Scott said, firmly. "We wouldn't. We were just… surprised. Look, if someone drops something heavy on your toe, you're going to scream, right? It doesn't mean you think it was dropped intentionally. If she'd have given us a few more minutes to digest everything…"
"We have to find her." Kurt insisted.
"And Carol."
"Hey… Kit's awake!" Jubilee bounced in the room, grinning at the lot. "This is awesome! How are Rogue and Carol doing?"
"Uh…"
"Never mind. I'll check myself. I just wanted to say that we finished running the scans on those possible clues and we definitely found something. It seems our little invader was a familiar face after all… Pietro."
"Just what we need." No one was sure if Scott was sarcastic, not even himself. "Anything else?"
"Well, just that I can't find Mr. Clark anywhere. Mr. McCoy wanted to talk to him about something."
It might've been her spiteful imagination, but the punching bag looked shockingly like she remembered Remy LeBeau: red, puffy, and just begging to be beaten. She kept the shifting object under her control with small but powerful punches on either of its sides, and paused only occasionally to wipe away errant strands of white hair that snuck onto the front of her face and clung to the beads of sweat collecting on her forehead.
One punch, as she thought about the Carol, all false frailty and quiet accusations.
A punch for Scott, whose features never lost their careful schooling during any real crisis: not when an enemy was trying to decapitate or spear or flay them, not when Jean had brought home a drunken Duncan and asked that he be allowed to room with Scott for the night, because if his parents found out… not even when the time the professor had mysteriously vanished for a week without so much as a 'bye, you'll be raising yourself for the next few days'. But one little suggestion that she'd spent time with Remy and, lo and behold, he could look shocked.
A punch for Jean, who hadn't exactly accused her of anything and wasn't that just typical? Depriving Rogue even of reasonable anger.
A slightly smaller punch for Kurt, because hadn't they finally been working towards some semblance of a family?
It wasn't easy, with that thin thread of resentment and misunderstanding, but it was going somewhere. Or not, she thought, tossing back her head and inhaling deeply. Maybe families couldn't be made like that, by choice and effort. You got what you were born with, plain and simple.
A punch for Tabitha, whom she'd never been very close to, but who'd been holding up Carol, of all people, and why hadn't Rogue used a much more biting, vicious attack in their verbal sparring? She could've -for all of Tabitha's rebellious habits and devil may care façade- split the blonde girl open with words, could've torn apart her head and done it with a smirk at that. And after all, Tabitha had sought out that darker side… the darker side, however, had wanted and fought for Rogue.
And then there was Remy. She narrowed her eyes and centered her punches, hitting the bag square on repeatedly. The old one-two; she hit it until her arms ached, and still the seething rage inside of her didn't subside.
"This is about a guy, isn't it?"
She tossed a careless glance over her should to see Joe leaning against the far wall, ankles crossed, hands lost in the pockets of clean black pants. He wore something like a smile, and looked up at her from underneath that semi-veil of silver-white hair. Grey eyes were piercing. "They say Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I guess it's true, though I'm left wondering who could ever scorn you."
"It's not about a guy," she lied.
"Oh?"
"It's about tryin' ta fit in where ya don't belong."
He cocked his head to the side. "Are you trying to insinuate that I should leave?"
She blinked at that. She hadn't considered that at all. "No, Ah was… talkin' about myself."
"And your old home in Bayville?" Joseph nodded, moving closer. He gestured for her to give him her hands, and she did, staring blankly while he unwrapped the cloth binding them and readjusted it to better cover the parts of her hands that had were red from the punches.
"Ah…" She broke off and narrowed her eyes. "Why do you know about that?"
He shrugged. "Can I ask you a question, Rogue?"
"No."
"Come on." He pouted, and it was a strange look on him, the jutting low lip. He wasn't unattractive… and, okay, he was very not unattractive. His eyes sparkled. "Rogue…"
"Ugh." She pulled away and turned back to the bag. "Fine. One question." She fisted her hands again and resumed her attack on the bag. One punch, one kick, one pivot-
"Do you believe it's possible to fall in love with a picture?"
At the moment, she seriously doubted the possibility of love itself. "No."
"Oh." He seemed disappointed. "Well… I can see how it's hard for someone to make that leap of faith. But supposing you walked the halls adorned with pictures of this person every single day, and you memorized the sight of this person's face. You started wondering what it would take to make a smile like that, and how much you'd like to see it in person. Can you understand that?"
Rogue let the bag alone for just a moment and faced Joseph again. "What are ya tryin' ta say?"
He stuffed his hands in his pockets again and gave her a quirky smile. "I'm here if you need to talk, Rogue. That's all."
Pietro yawned and flipped the channel on the TV. News, cartoons, news, news, Buffy, news; there was nothing on. Well, at least nothing he hadn't already seen or had any interest in seeing. Mutants were meant to make news, not watch it glumly on boring brown sofas.
A shadow fell over him. He looked up. "What do you want now?"
"Our plans have changed. You need to come with me."
Hmm. What's going on? Hey, I'd love to hear what you think! You can email me, IM, or at least review with your theories. You know you want to (I shouldn't say that… last time I did, no one wanted to…) Along with theories, questions, comments, and coconuts can be directed to my yahoo account, where I'm Eileenblzr. See ya soon! (Promise this time).
