Author note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm having major computer problems at the moment, it's taken me days to get this bloody chapter up and I owe apologies to everyone I owe mails to. As a result of the laptop going tits up, this is gonna be the last chapter until my new computer arrives or I can do something with this piece of shit! It might take a couple of weeks but bear with me, I'll be back! And the next chapter will have the proper thanks to the reviews too - every time I try to type the screen goes black!
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Logan was the first through the doors, facing up to a man who outweighed him by several hundred pounds. Cain Marko was huge. But Logan had rarely fought anyone who wasn't taller or heavier than him and he wasn't going to back away.
"Back off bub."
Cain laughed. "My brother sent some puny weakling to stop me? No one can stop me!"
"Charles is dead."
"You think I'm gonna fall for that? As if." Cain snorted and advanced menacingly. "Get out of my way little man."
Logan flew at him with a snarl, claws extended. As the four teens ran out of the mansion, they saw Cain casually snatch Logan out of the air by the scruff of his neck and throw him aside before continuing forward.
Lance set of an earth tremor, knocking Cain off balance and forcing him to stop. Jean attempted to get in his mind to telepathically force him to stop his rampage – and paused as she found the task impossible. There was something blocking her powers. Frowning, she looked up and saw the helmet he wore. That had to be what was stopping her from entering his head. And if he were vulnerable to telepathy, it would explain how he could be subdued long enough to imprison him and how Charles had been able to do it. Which gave them a way to stop him.
Always assuming they could get his helmet off.
…I think I can stop him but we need to get his helmet off…
The others glanced up in the air, as she had found people tended to do when unused to being spoken to telepathically. Sam nodded and blasted his way over to Cain, still off balance from the earth tremor, and knocked him off his feet. He managed to undo one clasp before Cain grabbed his shirt and threw him to one side. Sam tried to blast, knowing he was invulnerable when he did so, bouncing off the ground and leaving a large hole. As Cain got up, Todd bounded onto his back and managed another one before being similarly treated. Lighter than Sam and never invulnerable, he went further and landed in a crumpled heap.
Logan got back to his feet and leapt on Cain, reaching for the clasp but not able to get it. Lance set off another earth tremor to knock him off balance but this time Cain was wise to the trick and managed to snatch Logan off him and hurl him at Lance. Startled, Lance tried to dodge but was to slow to avoid being hit by four hundred pounds of adamantium-laced flying Canuck. They both fell down in a tangle of arms and legs.
"Marko, the Professor is dead!" shouted Jean. "There's no reason to fight us. We're trying to band survivors together. You could help us!"
"I know he's not dead," snarled Cain. "And if I have to rip this place apart to find him, I will do!"
"No you won't!" Jean concentrated on Cain's helmet and the third clasp popped open, the helmet flying into the air seemingly of its own accord. Cain reached out to catch it but missed. Telekinetically, Jean flung the helmet as far away as she could and sent Cain her memories of the days in the Institute since the disease had hit.
The Professor lay prone in bed, Storm screwing with the weather, Scott blasting holes in the roof and asking for his long-dead brother, the moment she had gone into the Professor's room to ask his help and found that he wasn't breathing…
"Get out of my head!" Cain grabbed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. "I know you're making it up. Charles is still alive and he's still afraid to face me! Well I'm going to make him and you can't stop me!"
He advanced, closing in on Jean with anger on his face. She took a few steps back but he wasn't about to stop, his fists already bunched to do her some serious damage.
Oh shit, what am I going to do?
She focused her telepathy, knowing that it was the only thing left that could save her now. Not having much experience, she tried to envision her powers as a bludgeon, determined to stop him before he could get in the mansion or hurt her or the others any more. She lashed out at him with the full force of her mind.
Cain stopped, a look of surprise on his face. He grunted once, his hands twitching up toward his face, then he fell forward. He didn't try to brace his fall, his face meeting the ground with an audible crack.
Jean covered her mouth with her hand, taking a step toward him but too afraid to reach out and touch him, make sure he was alright. The grounds of the mansion suddenly seemed too quiet, the daylight too harsh. For long seconds she was aware of no one but herself and Cain.
Lance struggled out from beneath Logan. "Jeez, you weigh a ton. Ever hear of slim-fast?"
"Shut up." Logan sat up and cricked his neck from side to side. He had the feeling that he wouldn't be getting up so quickly without Lance to break his landing. He'd been thrown pretty hard. He glanced around for Cain and spotted him fallen on the floor, Jean standing above him looking horrified.
"Jean?"
"I…I didn't mean to do it." Jean looked over at him, her eyes wide with fear. "I didn't think this would happen!"
Logan walked over to her, wondering exactly how she had managed to fell the man. "It's OK Jean. You stopped him, that's good…"
"No it isn't!" Jean looked down at Cain again. "He's…I hit him too hard. I didn't know this would happen!"
"He'll be fine. He'll be up and about and trying to smash through the walls in no time…"
"No he won't."
Logan crouched over Cain and took his pulse. It was unusually slow but seemed strong enough. "He's still alive Jean. He'll get over it."
"You stopped him cold," said Lance admiringly.
"You don't understand!" Jean ran a shaking hand through her hair. "There's nothing in his mind! I hit him with my telepathy, I was trying to knock him out, but I must have used too much – I panicked! And I can't sense anything in his mind, I can't hear his thoughts – it's like he's not there!"
"You're upset," said Logan calmly. "There'll be something going on in there. It might just take a few hours before he comes around."
"Whoa." Todd hopped over, rubbing the back of his head. "I need an aspirin. Is he dead?"
"He isn't dead," said Logan with a warning look in Todd's direction. "Where's Sam?"
"Halfway to Jersey by now," said Todd. "He couldn't stop blasting, went straight through a wall and bounced away."
"That's jut great." Logan glared down at Cain. "OK, Lance, Todd, help me move him."
"Move him where?" asked Lance.
"Med bay."
"Med bay?" Todd jumped up, panic spreading across his face. "You want him to stay here? Where we are?"
"Is that even safe?" Lance glanced over to the building. "I mean, with the kid here? He might not be happy when he wakes up."
"I don't think he'll wake up any time soon," said Jean quietly.
"We might be able to talk some sense into him," said Logan. "And Jean can stop him if we can't. There'll be alarms, surveillance – if he so much as sneezes, we'll know about it."
Sam wandered back through the smashed gates, looking dazed. "Did we stop him?"
"Jean stopped him," said Lance.
"Sam, you come over and help us get him in the med bay. No arguments." Logan glared at them, daring some one to object. "Jean, go get some rest or something."
"But Cerebro…"
"It'll wait."
"Go on." Todd hopped over to her and stood up, looking even smaller and grubbier in comparison. "You said using your telepathy wasn't easy and you've been halfway round the country before that. We'll deal with ugly."
Jean opened her mouth to object – she hated being treated like the weaker sex – but decided to leave it. She had put him down and out after all. She just had to hope it wasn't permanent. Let them do some work. Instead she sighed and walked back into the mansion, not bothering to go see Mystique but going directly up the stairs.
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Rogue wandered through the park, wondering why her life had to be so complicated. Everyone was dead except for some weird Cajun with freaky powers who thought she was a psycho, her adoptive mother had left her a note to be read after her death stating that Rogue had been adopted because she too was due to come into powers, uncontrollably sucking the life and memories out of anyone she touched and now she had precognition as well.
Life sucked.
The early evening sky threatened rain and Rogue had no coat but right then she didn't care if she got drenched. It would be ironic if she were to survive some global disease only to die of the flu. But she didn't see that happening.
She hadn't finished reading the letter. Had Irene known that she would run, discard the letter and try to run from what it had to say? Just how far did this precognition go anyway?
Ahead of her, the playground loomed. In the half-light it seemed ominous, deserted now of all the children that would normally be there in spite of the threatening sky. At one time she had been able to come here and watch small kids climbing on the climbing frame, older kids seeing how fast they could get the roundabout to spin and later on in the evening, teenagers sharing a bottle of cider, a cigarette or an illicit joint. There was graffiti scrawled on the metal in magic marker, names, dates, proclamations of love and hate. Written by people who were almost certainly dead.
The vision was upon her before she had time to brace herself.
A shape lying in the long grass, almost hidden in the lengthening shadows. Beyond that a man, dishevelled and skinny, sprawled across the tarmac of the playground viewed not from where she was now but from the other side, another angle. Rain began to come down but neither figure moved and in the background she could hear some one screaming…
"Shit!" Rogue forced the vision away with an enormous effort. What the hell had that been? The future? And if it was, when in the future? She had seen something else when she and Remy had eaten – did seeing that before this mean that the first vision would happen before the second or not? Would either of them happen?
This damn precognition was driving her mad. But not as mad as knowing she might never touch another person. She wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type but touch was something that everyone took for granted. Brushing past a stranger in the street, dancing close to a cute boy, ruffling some kids hair, linking arms with a friend – all off limits without something blocking their flesh. And there was the future to think about too. She had never thought much about kids, reasoning that she was too young and had too much to do with her life to bother about the subject, but all of a sudden the option had been taken from her and now it played on her mind. She would never have a boyfriend, a family of her own; never feel the skin of some one she loved against hers. All the talks she had been involved with in school bathrooms about when the giggling girls would be Doing It seemed like a cruel, infantile joke. She would never be Doing It.
A sudden wave of anger washed over her. If Irene had told her about her powers sooner, maybe she could have done something about it. She could have gotten in her partying young like so many of her wilder classmates had, experienced touching, kissing, maybe even Done It, had a kid before it was too late for her and her powers had manifested…
Yeah right. And maybe she would have hated motherhood at such a young age or maybe she could have watched the kid choke to death on its own blood when it came down with the disease or maybe she would have been left in a world full of dead people with a child to worry about as well as suddenly finding herself untouchable.
Maybes didn't help her now. The situation was what it was. The past was the past and couldn't be changed and the future was…
A hand grabbed her upper arm and squeezed.
"Look what I found!"
She shrieked and turned around, unable to make out the mans face in the gloom. All she could make out was that he was taller than her, skinny with short hair. And he smelled bad, the layer of deodorant not able to mask the smell of stale BO. She hadn't been able to shower either but she had done her best with cold water and baby wipes.
"Whoo, a girl!" A second man crashed through the trees and she wondered how she hadn't heard them before. True she had been deep in thought but still she should have heard them talking, walking, something.
"Haven't seen a live girl for days." The man who had her arm stuck his tongue out and wiggled it suggestively. "Wanna party?"
Oh God!
She yanked her arm away, his grip slipping from her arm but catching the sleeve of her shirt. She pulled harder, the fabric tearing and leaving her shirtsleeve hanging. Free, she began to run across the playground, dodging the swings and praying that they wouldn't chase her…
BANG!
The gunshot startled her, hearing the bullet hit the metal frame of the swing set. She redoubled her efforts, thinking that if she could get away from the open playground she might be able to lose herself in the trees, maybe double back and get back to Remy.
"She's getting away!"
Rogue felt her heart speed up as she got to the far end of the playground and put her foot on the grass. Just another minute and she might have a chance of escape…
BANG!
The grass to her right exploded, throwing up turf and mud and she screamed, instinctively veering to one side. Her right foot hit the back of her left and before she could right herself, she was falling.
It's all over…The fall knocked the wind out of her but she tried to ignore it, scrambling back up to her knees – but before she could get up she was grabbed by her hair and dragged to her feet. She struggled, trying to free herself from the grip.
"Don't fight babe." Smelly Guy had her and he sounded almost hurt. "We're gonna have some fun. You'll love it!"
"NO! Leave me alone!"
"You're pretty." The other guy approached her and grinned, his face close to hers. "Always thought with our luck, any girl we found would be a pig. Looks like we were wrong!"
"You don't wanna touch me." Rogue ignored the pain in her scalp and tried to pull away again. The second guy caught her wrist, covered by the undamaged sleeve of her shirt, and put his face even closer.
"Fight, if you like. I like a girl to move!"
Rogue's fear suddenly evaporated. These guys weren't so tough, not if it took two of them to terrorise a lone teen in a ravaged world. They may have thought they could do what they liked with no consequences – but she was going to prove them wrong.
"You fucking bastard!"
She jerked her head forward, knowing she didn't have enough movement for a head butt but hoping for just enough to touch…
Her forehead brushed against his.
He went rigid, his eyes widening. For several seconds they remained in that position, a grotesque parody of two people sharing an affectionate moment, then he sank to the ground unconscious.
Rogue squeezed her eyes closed, trying to bury the sudden rush of information that had entered her head.
He'd gone over to see Ricky, the damn tosspot owed him twenty bucks and he was broke for another three days. Ricky's door had been open and he walked in on a scene from a horror film. Ricky lay on the floor, his face coated in blood, his slutty girlfriend in the bathroom, dead, her head resting on the toilet and the bowl stained with rust, urine and blood. He'd left in a hurry, suddenly realising how long it had been since he'd seen any of his cronies and not knowing what to do…
"What did you do to him?" Smelly Guy loosened his grip on her hair and Rogue took the chance to stagger a few steps away, toward the playground, too dazed and confused to do more than make a perfunctory attempt at escape.
"Oh no, you're going nowhere!" Smelly Guy took three steps after her and grabbed her covered wrist. "Just because he can't take the excitement don't mean that we can't have a good time!"
"You leave me alone Buddy."
Smelly Guy's smile faded as he heard his name and he tightened his grip on Rogue. "Listen bitch, you shut your mouth and open your legs and maybe you'll leave here with your teeth. Maybe."
"Screw you, needle dick." Rogue warmed to her subject. "You think you're such a big tough man, grabbing me, trying to intimidate me. You wouldn't have dared do something like this if there were still cops around 'cause you're a chicken shit bastard and you can't get it up without a little violence, make sure you feel like you're the boss because you're so damn scared of women…"
"Shut your fucking mouth bitch!" Buddy squeezed her hand until she felt the bones grind, sticking his free hand up her shirt and under her bra, grabbing her left breast and gripping it cruelly…
The feeling was almost electrical. His eyes grew large, his body going rigid as she absorbed his life force. His hand clamped down and Rogue screamed, trying to shove him backward, but the bra was underwired and a snug fit and his hand remained trapped beneath it.
Everyone was dead. No more seventeen year old girlfriend too damn afraid of his fists to complain, no more drinking pals, no more nothing. He'd taken to the road in a stolen Jaguar, meeting up with Tom on his way and finding out they had plenty in common. Circumstances had forced them into lives that were less than satisfying but the disease had provided them with new opportunities. They didn't have to struggle for what they wanted anymore. Money, cars, gadgets, it was all theirs for the taking. And if they found a woman, so much the better. She could hardly go crying to the cops after all and everyone knew that the bitches loved that kind of thing. For all their talk about liberation and equality they were all the same, sluts who needed manners banged into them…
Rogue screamed in disgust, grabbing Buddy's arm and pushing it downward and out of her bra. He toppled over backward, sprawled on the tarmac, no longer a threat to anyone.
She stumbled away, not knowing what to do. Those guys had wanted to rape her and now their memories, all that made them what they were, had been trapped within her head.
Something made her turn as she left. The shape of Tom was slumped in the grass, barely able to be seen in the darkening day. Buddy was on the playground, sprawled out over the concrete. As she took in the scene the rain began to come down, heavily. Within seconds she was soaked but she barely noticed. The plateau in front of her was the one she had seen in her vision.
She was the one that was screaming.
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The room would have been perfect if not for the hole in the floor.
Lance glanced down at the gap and wondered. The mansion had been there to house mutants and some of them had destructive powers, but none of the group here at the moment had done that. They would have said.
Having got Cain to the Med bay, Logan had suggested that Todd show them around the mansion and help them find rooms. Todd had tried to show them around but explained that he was still a bit lost, Jean having shown him around only once and he hadn't had much time to go exploring. He referred to the area, rather sarcastically, as 'the boys' wing' and Lance had assumed that it was the best place for him to stay. He didn't want to be accused of anything untoward, not when he had only just got here. He had come to believe that the Institute was exactly what Jean and Logan had said it was, a place for survivors to gather. And there were threats out there – Cain Marko had proved that. He hadn't asked for the kid, hadn't wanted him, but now the kid was his responsibility and he was going to look after him.
Sam had immediately said he wanted the smallest bedroom on the grounds that it was the least likely to be shared. He told Lance that he hadn't had a room to himself since the sixth Guthrie child was born and he was looking forward to it. Lance couldn't imagine having so many siblings. Christmas alone would be financially crippling. He wanted to ask Sam how he hadn't gone insane with so many other people to worry about but hadn't known how. All Sam's siblings and his parents were dead. He didn't want to be the one to rip open his wounds.
He needed a room large enough to house both himself and the kid. He had hoped that finding girls would mean the responsibility would be taken from him but his crash course in baby care meant that Jean did less than he did and Mystique – he didn't trust her around the kid. She had protected him while they fought Cain but when he had walked into the control room afterward he had found her masquerading as him, attempting to shut the kid up without trying anything so drastic as finding out what he wanted. She would do for a short-term sitter but he wouldn't trust her with the kid's welfare for longer than an hour or so. At least Jean seemed to care about the kid even if she was a bit clueless.
This room was the perfect size, enough for him to keep most of his clothes on the floor and let a cot in here too, although he planned for the kid to have a separate room as soon as he was sleeping through the night. But there was a big damn hole in the floor and Lance wondered how it had got there. This room hadn't been used for a while and that meant the damage had to come from below.
The kid carried over his shoulder; he went down a level and tried to work out where the room below was. He narrowed it down and walked through a door that seemed pretty close…
And caught Jean sat on the bed.
"Oh, uh, sorry, didn't realise anyone was here." Lance began to back out of the room.
"It's OK Lance. Come in." Jean sounded tired and sad and Lance thought he ought to see what was going on. Part of it was genuine concern, another part was curiosity. What had happened in this building before he arrived?
"I thought this wing was for boys," said Lance, realising the kid was beginning to go to sleep over his shoulder. "Did I fuck up the directions?"
"No, this is the boys wing." Jean turned away from the dresser and gave him a smile that looked more like a grimace. "The Professor didn't want to make things uncomfortable by having integrated bedrooms."
"So why are you here?" Lance cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth.
"Why are you here?"
"There's a hole in the floor. I guess I was just wondered what did it."
Jean sighed and sat on the bed. "This was Scott's room."
"Scott?"
"The Professor worked with me for years but Scott was the first person he recruited as a student. He was an orphan, blinded because of his powers. The Professor made him some shades so that he could see – his power was optic blasts and he couldn't control them so he needed the shades just to be able to open his eyes – and he settled down. He was so…focused, determined. But he was sweet too, always looking out for me. He drove a red sports car and he liked raspberry ripple ice cream and CSI Vegas and he wanted to be an advocate of mutant rights and I buried him in the garden."
"Oh." Lance sat on the bed beside Jean, aware that the kid had fallen asleep. "Did he put the hole in the ceiling?"
"While he was ill." Jean sounded tired. "I did my best but I couldn't help them!"
Lance frowned. He had no idea how to comfort her but she was so upset he couldn't just leave her to it. Instead, he laid the softly snoring kid out on the bed.
"I need your help." He briefly debated putting an arm around her to give her some comfort and rejected the idea. She'd only just met him after all. "See the kid?"
"Uh, yeah."
"He needs a name. I've been trying to think of one but nothing seems to fit. What do you think?"
"A name?"
"Yeah. Can't keep calling him 'kid' forever."
Jean frowned. "Why don't you call him after your father?"
"Never found out his name. Never will do now either."
"Oh." Jean tried to stop her blushes. She had always known her family was the archetypal American dream that was presented on TV and she had also known it wasn't realistic. But she had lived that life. Her parents had stayed together and been happy, they had lived together contentedly and if it weren't for her powers they would have been totally average. It didn't sound like Lance had experienced that.
"So…you're a girl," said Lance. "Everyone knows that it's the girls job to name the baby."
"What's the boys job then?"
"His work's done. He gets to smoke cigars." Lance grinned to show her he was joking. "Seriously, I couldn't think of anything. I even went through a baby name book but I didn't like anything in there."
"You didn't have any friends you'd like to name him after?"
Lance thought of Griff and Pete. "Not really. I had friends but not the type I'd want to give the kid anything in common with."
"No stepfather or anything?"
"My last foster father was called Gary." Lance rolled his eyes. "He was OK I guess but he was a big football star in high school and he kept going on at me to try out for the team. Kept telling me that if I bulked up and concentrated I could be on the team. He was a quarterback and he didn't get that I wasn't interested. I'm not into football."
Jean decided not to mention Duncan – wow, she hadn't even thought about him since everyone's powers went out of control when they got sick. She didn't even know if he was alive or dead, although he had been ill the last time she spoke to him so she had to believe the worst.
"He wasn't a bad guy," continued Lance. "But I wouldn't feel right calling the kid after him."
Jean reached out and brushed the kids cheek. It was soft, downy. The kid snorted a little but didn't wake up. "I've got an idea, but we don't have to if you don't like it."
"What?"
"My fathers name is – was – John. I miss him a lot; I don't even know for sure that he's dead. We could call him Johnny."
"I can live with Johnny." Lance leant down and whispered. "Hey kid – told you I'd get you a name! You're Johnny!"
"You'll wake him up!" Jean laughed, glad to be shaken from her memories. "You sure he shouldn't be called Lance Junior?"
"Hell no." Lance straightened up. "I just found him. If he's staying here he's one of us and he gets looked after by all of us."
"Dream on." Jean snorted. "Can you imagine Logan or Mystique trying to look after him? Logan thinks his job's to make sure none of us get attacked and that's where his responsibility ends and Mystique has to be least maternal person I know."
"Sam knows what he's doing though," said Lance. "He had ten brothers and sisters, his parents must have never stopped! He thinks the kid – Johnny – must be about two months old. He knows how to take care of him too."
"But you're not leaving Johnny with Sam are you?" Jean grinned at Lance's embarrassed expression. "You might have planned for everyone to share Johnny's care but you're putting it on yourself to do most of it."
"Well, I was the one that found him and I kinda got used to him." Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "You said your sister had two kids – why not name him after one of them?"
"She only had one boy." Jean smiled as she remembered her nephew. "She called him Gawain."
"Thank you so much for not naming him after your nephew," said Lance fervently.
"I begged her not to but she insisted." Jean let herself recall the arguments. "I wanted her to call him Nathan, but Gawain was something her husband wanted. Do – did you have any brothers or sisters?"
"No, my mom wouldn't make the same mistake twice," said Lance sourly. "I guess I'm luckier than you and Sam. I didn't have to worry about anyone else when everyone got sick."
Privately Jean wondered if he was right. Her heart ached whenever she thought about what she had lost – her family, her extended family in the mansion, her friends – but she also had a lifetime of memories of them that made her glad she had known them even if they were snatched from her when she was least expecting it. To have never had that kind of closeness – that was unimaginable. Maybe she was the lucky one.
"Anyway." Lance stood up. "I was trying to find a room for me and the kid until he's old enough to sleep on his own. The room I found was perfect except for the big hole in the floor and I don't want to be losing my clothes down there all the time. Any better ideas?"
"I'll help you find something. Leave Johnny here, he'll be fine." Jean ignored Lance's doubtful look and piled pillows around Johnny so he couldn't fall off the bed before dragging Lance out of the room. He needed to get away from the kid for a while, even if it was just to choose a room and she was going to make sure that it happened. And she was going to make sure that he felt a part of this family too, as well as Todd and Sam. It may not be what any of them wanted, but all they had now was each other. In her experience, families didn't always get on, they argued and fought and bickered – but they laughed and cried together, supported each other, were there to help out. The Professor had wanted the students at the Institute to be a family and she was going to carry on that wish.
They were a family now. No matter what.
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Remy rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and refocused on the words in the notebook. It made no difference. The front page was still addressed to him.
This was just great. He'd escaped the chaos and noise that was New Orleans only to land with a crazy girl and her dead but still communicating mother. Part of him expected Irene's ghost to float through a wall and start wailing at any moment.
He read the page again, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Mr LeBeau,
I know you're going to read this before Rogue does, so if you don't want to be found out you should remove this page.
Surreal. Utterly weird. How could she know? He knew she was a precognitive but still – the thought that his every move had already been chosen for him put him in mind of some cerebral puppet master pulling his strings. He didn't like it one bit. It creeped him out.
You're thinking about leaving Rogue behind, sneaking off without telling her and letting her fend for herself. You can still do that if you want – she'll get along without you just fine – but it would be better for both of you if you were to remain together. Mostly for your sake. If you knew what was going to happen it would be easier for you to get along in this world. Rogue does know, although her premonitions are not always clear. To this end, I have filled this book with what I see happening after I have died. I am blind and I'm getting sick but I hope they will be of some help. Your chances of survival are improved with Rogue on your side.
Irene Adler.
Remy scowled. He didn't like this woman knowing what he was thinking. His first thought was to just leave – this Irene could go to hell, thinking he couldn't cope without Rogue. And he could take the damn notebook with him; he'd still know what was coming.
On the other hand, she might be useful. Her powers could help if they ran into some one unfriendly – Remy knew that not everyone would welcome other people. They could be dangerous.
Maybe he'd take a quick look through the notebook before he made a decision, wait for her to return, see what happened. He could take off at any time he wanted. Besides, it had started to rain.
He pulled the note to himself out of the book and checked through the pages, a mix of writing and slightly Picasso-esque drawings. Still, he mused, that she'd managed it at all without sight was impressive. Irene must have been one determined woman.
He browsed through the pictures, not bothering to read the words. People he didn't recognise, places he didn't know. Some words apparently in Japanese or Chinese on one page. A man looking like a psycho scarecrow with claws, a woman at his side with seven or eight different faces surrounding her head. Another man covered in hair, something dark dripping from his overgrown nails. A girl who could only be Rogue, her eyes closed but a third eye in the centre of her forehead wide open. An indistinguishable figure lay apparently prone with objects floating in the air, shadowy people ducked around the edge of the picture. A man in a mask and cape with his arms outstretched, apparently appealing to a – girl? – who was shooting something out of her hands at him, another figure lying at her feet.
None of them were familiar. None of them made any sense.
He flipped ahead to nearly the end of them book. There was more writing but he barely registered it. The picture took up all his attention. A mans face, features basic and rudimentary save for what might have been a birthmark just above the bridge of his nose, a rough square or diamond shape.
Remy closed the book and decided knowledge about the future could wait. One brush with the past was enough for today.