Chapter 7: Departure
Larry Trask had just finished talking about his past, and was now about to discuss his future.
Professor Charles Xavier was amazed at what he had just heard. His cup of tea rested on the coffee table in front of him, cold and untouched. "A government agency abducting mutants…I wish I could say this was the first I've heard of such a thing", he said with a touch of regret.
"What I want to know is how people keep finding me," Larry muttered as he finished his own cup of tea.
Jean spoke up, flashing a warm, million dollar smile at Larry. She reminded him of an overenthusiastic infomercial spokeswoman. "The X-Men have a device called Cerebro that has a sensory array specifically calibrated to the mutant genome. It can detect mutants almost anywhere on the planet."
"However," Xavier interrupted, "As far as I know, the government has no technology that can compare with Cerebro…tell me, Lawrence…"
"Larry."
"Larry, did you tell anyone of your visions prior to your attack?"
/Don't worry, son, I'll be back in Summerduck soon and I'll explain everything to you./
The memory of his last night in Summerduck returned without warning. Larry covered his face with his hands, letting out a deep sigh. He didn't want to finish that thought. "N…No. No, I didn't tell anyone. I didn't even know what was happening to me."
"Fair enough," Xavier said, making eye contact. Larry almost felt like an unwilling patient caught in a hypnotist's stare; that was how intense Charles Xavier's gaze was. "Larry, it's time I tell you exactly why we're here. I would like it very much if you were to come back with us to Bayville, and attend the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. In fact, I believe it would be vital to your personal safety."
The words took several moments to properly sink in. Larry drew back in his chair, and a short, derisive laugh left him. "Wait, wait. You think I would be safe back in Bayville? Tell me, is your institute still a hole in the ground, or have you already rebuilt it after it exploded?"
Frowning, Scott leaned forward. "Listen--" he began, only to feel Jean's hand on his chest. She gave him a look as if to say, Hold on.
Rather than sharing Scott's displeasure at Larry's remark, Xavier's face remained as calm as ever. In fact, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.
"While mutants may be feared by the general public at this time, the X-Men are considered to be national heroes, and have the President's personal approval. We have officially sanctioned security upgrades to ensure that our students can carry on their daily activities in peace, and since we are now public figures any move made against us would be very unwise.
"And tell me, do you really think this is the best place for you? Do you want to spend your life locked in this tiny house, afraid to look outside the window out of fear of who may spot you? And what if those agents who attacked you track you to this location? What could you do to stop them? We can offer you sanctuary. You can continue your education, live with other mutants your own age, and learn to control your abilities."
Larry listened intently to every word that left Xavier's mouth, mulling over what to say. He unconsciously squeezed the palm of his left hand, and his fingers traced the long, thin scar left behind from a self-inflicted knife wound. It served as a reminder of an unpleasant, unwelcome fear, and cut through his pride and any snappy rejoinders he may have thought of.
"So, Larry?" asked Scott somewhat impatiently. "What's it going to be?"
"All right," he said, perhaps too sharply. "…I'll go with you."
---
While Larry Trask was surrounded in the parlor, Irene busied herself with preparing a second kettle of tea and a tray of crackers to serve her guests.
"What do you want with him?" an all-too familiar voice inquired from the doorway. She had snuck away from the parlor unnoticed during the question and answer period.
"Want?" Irene asked back, bemused. "What is there to want? It's been months since I last spoke to you, and you haven't even given me a proper hello, my Rogue."
"Don't give me that!" Rogue snarled. "I was happy to keep my eyes closed and not ask questions about your connection to Mystique, but if you're planning to do to him what you did to me--"
"Love him, you mean?" asked Irene, placing the tray on the kitchen counter and turning to face her former foster daughter.
For a moment, Rogue was at a loss for words, but she quickly found them. "All those years…you were just raisin' me for Mystique, weren't you? And now that I've joined the X-Men, you've picked up some other poor mutant to groom--"
"Calm down, Rogue. You're clearly upset." She approached the girl and placed her hands on both her shoulders. Rogue had the urge to slap those hands away, but resisted it. "Yes, I knew who Raven Darkholme really was when I entrusted you to her. And yes, we were close. But I loved you, and that was never a lie. Don't you believe me?"
Rogue swallowed hard. "I used to think…you were just a little gifted, like those psychics on TV. You'd tell me things like, 'take your umbrella' when I left for school on a sunny morning and sure enough, by the end of the day it would be storming…Professor X said you're really a clairvoyant. That's your power." Looking away from her reflection in Irene's sunglasses, Rogue gazed down at her gloved hands, now clenched into fists. "All those years you told me to cover up…to never get too close to somebody because of my 'skin condition'…they were all lies. You lied to me for years…"
"I tried to protect you, Rogue," Irene insisted. "I could not tell when your power would manifest, only that it would…I know that in the end my efforts were for naught, but believe me--"
"Why should I?" Rogue demanded, stepping away from the older woman and pointing an accusatory finger. "You told me to believe in Mystique, and that almost got me killed. It almost got Scott ki--!" She stopped suddenly, realizing she was saying far too much. She threw a hesitant glance over her shoulder, and saw that no one was behind her. They must all still be in the parlor, with Jean chatting Larry Trask's ear off, no doubt. They hadn't heard her outburst.
Taking in a deep breath, Rogue regained her composure.
"Now tell me, what do you want with that Trask guy? Why is he here?"
Irene didn't miss a beat. "We're the same, him and I. We're clairvoyant. We can see into the future. I couldn't let Larry come to harm when I could teach him so much, now could I? I can assure you the decision was my own—neither Mystique nor Magneto have anything to do with this. Do you believe that?"
Rogue's lips tightened, but she didn't say a word.
"All right, then. I suppose there's no alternative." Irene shook her head in sad resignation, and then stepped toward Rogue. She thrust her arm forward, extending her hand. Rogue took a nervous step back, almost as if she expected Irene to make a physical move against her.
"Remove your glove. Take my hand."
"What?" The woman could not be serious. Rogue balked. "No!"
"You won't believe my words. Take my hand. Touch me. My memories will be yours and you will know I am telling the truth."
Rogue scoffed, "Do you know what you're asking? Irene, if I touch you, I'll hurt you."
"I know exactly what I'm asking, my Rogue. I am offering my hand to you. I am offering my mind to you."
The moment stretched on in silence, Rogue's eyes darting from Irene's face to her outstretched hand as she debated within herself. Rogue's left hand slowly reached for her right, and pulled at the black glove…
No!
The hand dropped to her side. The glove would stay on. I can't do this, Rogue realized. She's still IreneNo matter how angry she was at that moment, Irene Adler was one of the select few whom Rogue could not bring herself to hurt under any circumstances.
I won't invade her mind. If she was willing to let me absorb her memories it must mean…
Irene smiled. Her voice took a softer tone. "I'll ask you again: do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?"
Rogue's gaze fell. Her lower lip trembled.
Irene hugged her. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that Rogue was taken completely unawares. Unlike the awkward touches at the institute, there was no hesitation, no fear of accidental contact with Rogue's fearsome skin. The embrace was sincere, and from the only parent Rogue had ever known.
"Don't," the girl said, shuddering and pushing the body away. "Just don't, okay? I'm willing to trust you, but don't push it."
Irene appeared dismayed, but when her eyes were not visible it tough to be sure. "I understand. Thank you, my dear one. Now," Irene said firmly, as if she had made a decision, "Let's go back. I fear I am being an inhospitable hostess." And with that she picked up the tray with the hot tea and crackers.
Rogue didn't comment, feeling only the warmth that had spread from Irene's body to her own. The welcome sensation replaced the uneasiness that had been gnawing at her stomach, at least momentarily.
---
The two women exited the kitchen and reentered the parlor just in time to hear Larry's answer. Only Logan noted their presence. His eyes met Rogue's and he nodded once in acknowledgment. Rogue returned the gesture as a sign that things were all right and he need not be wary of Irene.
"Still, I don't feel right about leaving her like this," Larry was saying as he brushed annoying strands of hair out of his eyes and behind his ear. "She rescued me, even saved my life. Our powers are virtually the same, and she knows what I'm going through…"
"It's okay," said Scott, whose voice sounded friendlier now that Larry had agreed to leave with the X-Men. "The Professor helped me—he's helped all the students—and he didn't need the exact same power to do it."
"I don't know…"
Irene spoke up, announcing her presence. "If it bothers you, Larry, why don't I accompany you?"
Rogue's eyes widened. Scott turned his head, and Jean gave the Professor an uncertain and questioning gaze. Logan's expression remained as pokerfaced as ever.
"I can combine my efforts in teaching you with the good professor's, and at the same time get reacquainted with my daughter…that is," she gave a bemused yet knowing smile to Xavier, "if he can spare a room in that rebuilt mansion of his."
Her words brought relief to Larry, who was oblivious to the X-Men's reactions. Grinning, he faced the Professor. "That would be great. I mean, would it be all right if…?"
Xavier answered without hesitation. "Yes. We would be happy to have you both."
Logan made a sound behind Rogue; to the perceptive ears, it would have sounded like a snort.
---
"So, you knew we were coming?" The answer was obvious, but Rogue wanted confirmation anyway.
Irene nodded as she picked up the suitcase she had packed the night before. Rogue leaned against the doorway of her foster mother's bedroom and watched her movements.
"All the necessary arrangements for my absence have been made. You know, I should really thank the professor in private. I know that, despite what I offered him, Larry will be in a more suitable environment at your institute."
"Hmm," said Rogue distractedly, glancing down the hall at her old bedroom door. She had a passing thought about checking it out, seeing if Irene had left it untouched or replaced it with a Jacuzzi or something. Before she could see for herself Larry Trask emerged from the room, a single tote bag over his shoulder. He went the other way down the hall and out the front door without seeing her.
"Are we ready to go?"
Rogue turned her head, Irene's voice having taken her by surprise. She had not heard the woman come up behind her. "I guess so." But another thought lingered. "Irene, was that guy sleeping in my room?"
Irene had forgotten just how territorial a teenage girl could be. "Why, yes. Would you prefer it if he'd slept in the garage?"
Rogue scowled. "No, it's just…" Her voice fell and rolling her eyes, she muttered, "He just better not have touched anything."
---
As Larry finished depositing his lone bag in the back of the X-Van he felt a shiver run down his spine, as if someone were watching him.
…And this feeling usually means someone is
Turning around tentatively, Larry found himself under Logan's gaze. The impressively-built man did not avert his eyes or make any movements, not caring that he had been caught staring. He raised one eyebrow, most definitely looking Larry over.
"Is there a 'kick me' sign on my back or something?" the boy asked dryly.
"You don't look much like your old man," he said simply, though for Logan, "simply" was synonymous with "gruffly."
Larry self-consciously ran his hand through his hair, the dark shade of which being the only visible sign of his connection to Bolivar Trask. Both Larry and Tanya had inherited their long-dead mother's softer features. "I hear that a lot."
Having apparently said all he wanted to say, Logan turned on his heel and walked away. Larry swallowed a lump in his throat, a burning, uncomfortable question on his tongue. Logan was already inside when Larry asked it, the boy having sprinted up the front lawn to catch him.
"Wait! You know my father?"
Logan turned for one final look at Trask's kid, as if he was committing his face to memory, and then entered the parlor where Xavier, Scott, and Jean were waiting. "I met him once."
Larry wanted to ask more, but something in that last look and the inflection in Logan's voice told him the single meeting between Logan and Bolivar Trask was not a matter he should be inquiring about. The certainty of that feeling did nothing to settle his fears, and another shiver of apprehension ran down his back.
A/N: I…live! Again, I'm sorry for the wait. Writer's block plus final exams equals one flustered Sandoz. Hope you enjoyed!