Following 'Ascension', Rogue visits her foster-mother Irene Adler, aka Destiny, for the first time in nearly a year and takes Kurt along with her. She needs answers about her life and about Mystique, and only Irene can provide them.

Spoiler Warning: Minor spoilers for general 'X-Men: Evolution' canon, particularly early episodes such as 'Rogue Recruit' and 'Turn of the Rogue'.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the places or, well, anything X-Men. Probably Marvel's, despite the insistence of some that they are the exclusive property of Stan Lee.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably as he stood with Rogue outside a bungalow house in Caldecott County, Mississippi. They stood in the afternoon light, just the two of them, as if his presence might give her the courage she needed to press the doorbell by osmosis alone. Their teacher, Ororo Munroe, had flown them from their home in Bayville near New York, but she'd stayed with the jet by general consensus, and so they were alone together here outside Rogue's old home.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked her. Kurt had never met Irene Adler, Rogue's foster mother, and Rogue was always complimentary about her, but still there were unanswered questions that made him nervous. In fact, that's why they were standing here now… so that Rogue could get answers to those questions, and maybe put some ghosts to rest. The curtains were drawn already, even though the Sun had barely begun to sink in the sky, so nobody inside had seen them. If Rogue wanted to, they could easily turn and walk away. Kurt wanted to, but his opinion wasn't the important one right now.

"I have to," said Rogue. "Besides, I've known her as long as I can remember. What could happen?" Kurt just shrugged.

"Well, I don't know what I'm doing here. Isn't this a family thing?"

"You are family, Kurt. Close as I'm gonna get, anyway. Besides, I need someone here to hold my hand. Not literally," she added, eying the hand he'd held out to her and which he now sheepishly withdrew. Kurt had seen Rogue as his sister for some time now, although Rogue herself was loathe to admit it, and so it was very satisfying to hear her say as much to him now. They weren't really related, although they shared a mother in Mystique, a shape-shifting mutant who had given birth to Kurt and lost him under tragic circumstances, then adopted Rogue when she was four and given her up just a few years later. Rogue still refused to accept Mystique as any kind of mother, because she had used and betrayed Rogue badly in the past, but she did care for Kurt so she was a sister for him.

"Okay, but can we please hurry? I don't like being out in the open like this." To Kurt, the idea of meeting his sister's foster-mother was a daunting one, but worse was the idea of being spotted by an anti-mutant protestor in this sleepy town. He and Rogue were both outed mutants, and in Bayville just standing around like this would have attracted no end of trouble. Here, so far from home, there was little chance of being recognised, and in any case he was wearing a holographic inducer that hid his blue fur, tail and pointed ears and made him look like any other sixteen-year-old boy. Still, Kurt didn't like to take the risk. Rogue nodded, breathed in deep, and then pushed the button.

The bell was a simple ding-dong chime. Rogue had wanted something more interesting, but Irene had always stubbornly refused to get it changed. She said she liked having something that was consistent in her life. She said Rogue was such a handful that anything permanent and predictable was bliss, but she'd been smiling when she said it.

The latch clicked on the other side of the door, and it opened to reveal a figure that neither Kurt nor Rogue recognised. He was a young boy, perhaps a year or two younger than Kurt, with dark skin and black, dreadlocked hair.

"Who are you?" It was Rogue that spoke first, shocked by the sight of this boy she didn't know in her mother's… foster-mother's house. Irene lived alone, and apart from her time with Rogue she always had, or so Rogue believed.

"Bishop?" This time it was Irene's voice they heard, a call from further within the house. Kurt was slightly surprised that he couldn't detect any of the Southern drawl that coloured Rogue's speech. The boy, Bishop, looked over his shoulder and called back to her.

"It's Rogue!" Like Irene, this boy lacked any of the local drawl, although Kurt thought he detected a barely noticeable accent as he said Rogue's name. Jamaican, perhaps? Bishop turned back to them, and nodded his head upwards. "Follow me."

Bishop led them into a foyer, left into a large living room. Rogue of course knew her way around, having lived here for almost five years, but to Kurt everything was new. The wallpaper in every room was very plain, autumn colours with no sort of pattern to catch the eye. That made sense. What was the point of eye-catching patterns in the home of a blind lady? The rooms were very large, with furniture spaced well and regularly about the edges, a table here or chair there, and all the plants were selected for distinctive and interesting scents and not for the usual bright colours. The only visual decoration of any kind seemed to be a selection of framed photos on the mantelpiece and hung on the walls. None were of Irene by herself, Kurt noticed. All of them featured Rogue, either alone or with Irene or others, posing or taken by surprise. They hadn't been taken down since Rogue left. Rogue wasn't related to Irene, and the blind woman couldn't appreciate the pictures really, and yet she'd wanted to keep them. What did that say about the way she felt for Rogue?

The living room was like the rest of the house. There were a couple of easy chairs, tables scattered around, even an old-fashioned radio and a phone over to the left, and a beaded curtain through to the kitchen on the right. Irene herself was sitting in the seat nearest to the fireplace, facing them. She had brown hair, cropped, and wore a green long-sleeved sweatshirt and black trousers. She looked in the prime of life, perfectly healthy, except for the few wrinkles he could just see behind her big black glasses that belied her age. He was sure that she was looking at them, even though he couldn't see her eyes. There was a white cane strapped to her wrist with a leather thong, but otherwise she seemed unaware of it, both hands lying just on her armrests.

"Irene…"

"Oh, thank you, Bishop."

"Sure." Bishop withdrew through the bead curtain, which click-clacked for several moments afterwards.

"You remember Lucius Bishop, don't you Rogue?" Irene asked. "He lives down the road, and he's been helping out around the house since you've been gone."

"Not really," said Rogue, and instantly Irene's neck turned to face her. "Besides, I don't recall you ever needing help when I was here." Irene smiled and shook her head.

"Rogue honey, I missed you. You don't call, you don't write. You haven't visited in months. I've been sick with worry."

"Sorry, Irene. I've been busy at the Institute an' all."

"Ah, yes. And how is Xavier treating you? Well, I hope."

"I'm doin' well there," Rogue agreed, tucking the long white fringe of her predominantly brunette hair behind her ear. "How would you read letters I sent, anyway?"

"I'd find a way. Maybe Bishop could read it for me. Aren't you going to introduce your friend?"

"Oh, yeah. Irene, this is my friend Kurt. Kurt, my foster-mom Irene." Kurt raised a hand and waved, although it went unnoticed.

"Hello."

"K… Kurt? Nightcrawler?" How had she known that name? "Oh, I've heard so much about you, I almost think of you as my own son. It's wonderful to meet you at last."

"Uh… likewise."

"I really am glad that you're here, Rogue. I haven't seen you in so long. I suppose it's too much to hope that you've just stopped by because you wanted to see me?"

"I have questions."

"Of course you do." Irene's head hung low on her shoulders as she said that, and suddenly Kurt felt very sorry for the woman. "Okay, sit down, both of you. Bishop will get you a drink, if you want." Rogue and Kurt located a pair of seats and shook their heads no. "Very well. What do you want to know?"

"Irene, you knew that Mystique was my mother, didn't you? And you knew I was a mutant ever since you knew me." Irene nodded slowly.

"I did, yes.Raven brought you to me to look after you when she couldn't do so herself."

"Why you? And why here, in the middle of nowhere?"

"Raven wanted you kept out of the way, so Xavier couldn't find you with that computer of his, and more personally she wanted you in the care of someone she could trust, a friend."

"You're friends with our mother?" That was Kurt. Rogue never referred to Mystique like that. "I didn't realise she had any friends."

"Apart from me, I'm not sure she ever has."

"So you've known her for a long time?"

"Yes."

"So you knew who she was when you sent me to be a part of her Brotherhood!" Rogue became accusatory surprisingly quickly, but the topic of Mystique was still one that she had trouble handling, and she handled it more angrily than Kurt did. "You tried to give me to her, like a present all done up with string!"

"I tried to reunite you with your mother! Was that wrong?" Rogue sat down, deflated.

"How could you lie to me, Irene?"

"I'm sorry, Rogue. Raven asked me not to tell you, and I honoured her wishes. I don't condone what Raven did to you, or tried to do, but I do understand why she felt she needed to do it. Everything she's ever done has been for you, for both of you." Mystique always said that, on those occasions when she and her children crossed paths, and Kurt desperately wanted to believe her. He still wasn't sure whether he did believe her or not, but he wanted to. It was painful, that want and that indecision. How much easier must it be for Rogue, who knew with perfect clarity that she didn't trust Mystique at all?

"She worked for Magneto, and then for Apocalypse, two of the worst mutants we've ever faced. She manipulated me and brainwashed me. That hardly sounds like she had my best interests in mind."

"I'll admit she made some questionable choices, but her intentions were good. She wanted to change the world, to make it a safe place for you to grow up in, and maybe she didn't care what had to happen to make that work."

"An' what about you, Irene? Don't you care what she's had to do to change the world? I know you, Irene. You're not a bad person. How could you help her do those things?"

"Raven… needed someone to believe in her. I was the only one who would. She's not a monster, Rogue. You would not judge her so harshly if you had been there, trying to dry her tears after she lost her only son over that bridge, or soothe her anger when Magneto forced her to give you up, Rogue."

"Maybe not, but fact is I wasn't there. An' you can't tell me all those things that happened to her in the past can justify what she's doing now?" Irene let out a low breath, defeated by the force of Rogue's convictions.

"No…" she said. "I suppose I can't."

The quiet in the room was oppressive, and Kurt became increasingly uncomfortable until, on a whim, he broke the silence.

"I could do with that drink now, please."

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Irene stood up to show Rogue and Kurt to the door. Five paces from her chair to the door. After the topic of Mystique had exhausted itself, the three of them had chatted for longer about more pleasant matters. Rogue was about to enter her final year of schooling, and she took it with her old brand of apathy. Kurt was rather more excited about the new term, though of course he was in the year below and had a full two years before he finished. But now the visit had reached its end, and they were on their way back to Bayville. And yet, there was one last thing that Irene hadn't said…

"Kurt," she said before she could stop herself. "I… before you go, I wonder… it's just that I've heard so much about you. Could I possibly see you for myself just once?" She raised her hands up to head height, and she could hear the realisation set in that she wanted to feel his face, his real face.

"I don't know…" Of course he was self conscious about it. The holographic inducer didn't hide his appearance from touch.

"Please? One request from a lonely old woman?" She heard the buzz as he deactivated the inducer.

"Okay." Her fingertips found his forehead first. She'd half expected his skin to feel like animal hair or fur, but instead it had a downy, felt-like texture that was hard to place. Perhaps the closest thing she'd felt was horsehide, but even that wasn't quite the same. The only word that seemed adequate was 'fuzz'.

She moved down the face, tracing the shape of the nose and cheeks and chin. He took it all stoically, even when she brushed her thumbs over his closed eyelids and lips, felt the pointed tips of his ears and tugged at his forelock. And then, as soon as she had an image of his beautiful face in her mind, contact was broken and all was darkness again. She sighed in a forlorn way, raised a hand so she could see Rogue in the same way, but quickly withdrew it and sighed again. What she wouldn't give to see Rogue, just once, the way she had just seen Kurt. But of course they could never share that sort of contact, and that fact hurt them both.

"Thank you. Rogue, please don't leave it so long before getting in touch again."

"I won't, Irene. I promise."

"I love you, Rogue. There will always be someone to love you." A soft intake of breath, and Irene thought she might say something else, but then the moment was gone and Rogue said just "Goodbye, Irene." Irene felt like crying.

She stood in the doorway for a while until she heard the wire fence close and they were off her property. Then, ever so slowly, she latched the door and turned round to rest her shoulder blades against the panelling. Nine paces forward - swerving left after four to avoid the coffee table - and she was in the kitchen. There were no actual doors in her house, save at the front and rear, because for a blind woman they were more trouble than they were worth. Sometimes she had rooms divided by beaded curtains, but between the foyer and the kitchen was just an empty archway, and the only indications that she was in a new room were her memory and the change in texture under her feet. The white stick she carried had not touched the ground all day.

Bishop was washing dishes in the sink. A quarter turn to the left, three paces, and she stood right beside him. He was the only one left to keep her company, and sometimes he even got paid for it.

"I think I'll help you out with the washing up," she told him.

"You don't have to…"

"I'm not quite useless yet, you know. Hand me the towel and I'll dry as you wash." He obliged her and they dropped into a pattern, a pile of sparkling clean plates building on the countertop to Irene's right.

"So, Bishop," she said after a while, "what do you think?" The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"They seem nice," he said, carefully. "She doesn't look like she's in dire peril."

"She is, though. I've seen it in my visions. We're all in danger. I see pathways… possibilities of what may happen, but now it seems that the most likely outcome is nothing at all, as if the future might simply end at any time and without warning. And when a vision does come through clear enough to understand, it is as bleak and undesirable as oblivion itself."

The worked in silence for a while longer. Bishop tried not to think about Irene's ominous prophecy, engrossing himself with rinsing, wiping and then handing the plates to Irene to dry. In fact, he'd almost succeeded in putting the warning out of his mind when out of the blue Irene said "Bishop, be a dear and answer the door."

Bishop set down the plate he was holding, confused. It was only several seconds later when the doorbell rang that he realised what had happened. Sometimes Irene didn't even realise she did that. When her 'visions' - though they were really more 'precognitive experiences' than simple 'visions' - were of events in the near future, and happening in her vicinity, she occasionally muddled the vision with reality, reacting before the cause had even taken place. Bishop grinned. It always amused him when that happened.

The person outside the door when he opened it this time was older and taller than the previous two visitors and looked far less friendly. It was a stern-faced woman with a hard jaw and arched eyebrows, dressed in the uniform of the local sheriff's department. Without speaking, she pushed her way past him into the entrance hall and her entire body changed before his eyes. Her lightly tanned skin shifted into filmy blue scale with hints of green, her bunched hair unwound to her shoulders and became glossy and scarlet. Her paunch flattened, her waist narrowed, and her whole body became sleeker, more athletic, which was clearly visible now that the concealing policewoman's uniform had become a revealing miniskirt and sleeveless crop-top combination, all in black leather. Her eyes were yellow and slit like a cat's, her nose long and sharp, and her thin blue lips worked too hard to conceal sharp canine teeth. Only her frown had not changed, and she still regarded him with an expression of utter disdain. For once, Irene's descriptions did nothing to prepare Bishop for what he saw in front of him.

"What are you looking at, boy?" He realised he was staring, and quickly turned to shut the door.

"Oh, let the boy alone, Raven. Bishop, go back to the kitchen, please." Bishop nodded, still trying not to stare at the cold woman that stood in Irene's home, hands on her hips and watching him like vermin. Only when he was out of sight did Mystique's face soften to see her old friend, though only a little.

"It's good to see you, Irene."

"I was wondering when you would come to see me."

"Didn't you know?"

"No… my visions are not as clear as they once were. Rogue was here earlier, with Kurt."

"Kurt was here?"

"He was, and Rogue. They're both doing very well with Xavier." Mystique sneered at the name.

"Xavier is a fool."

"Nevertheless, your children are happy with him."

"Then they are fools as well," but she hardly sounded as if she meant it. "We have a new target, Irene. I need your help to…"

"Raven, stop." When Mystique did so, Irene took a deep breath and sighed. What she was about to do would be hard for both of them. "I'm tired, Raven. I'm so very tired. For decades I'm helped you in your crusade, and I loved every bit of it, but I've grown too old. I don't have your strength or vitality, and even my visions have begun to abandon me. After the time I spent here, in this house, caring for Rogue, I can't go back to that old life with you."

Mystique was silent, speechless, and Irene reached out with a hand. She touched an elbow, a bicep, then found Mystique's face and cupped her cheek with a palm. If Mystique was shocked, then Irene could only pray that none of her own heartbreak was showing as she spoke the dreadful words.

"This is where we must part ways," she continued. "I can't help you any more."

Mystique still said nothing, and Irene filled the heavy silence by planting a feather kiss on her cheek.

"Goodbye, Raven. I wish you well in your endeavours…" But Mystique was already gone, run off into the night with the door hanging open behind her, barely remembering to resume the form of the sheriff through the pain and the anger at having lost her last ally and her only true friend. Irene could almost feel her old partner's loneliness coming off her in waves, and she felt like breaking down and weeping as Mystique never could.

Instead, she push the door closed and fixed the latch and whispered "I wish you well… but I'm still going to try to stop you. Goodbye, my friend."

I wonder how many people reading this feel sorry for Mystique... Hm.

I've introduced Bishop to my version of the X-Men: Evolution universe, although with some changes. First of all is his first name, Lucius. Technically the comics version doesn't have a first name, although he has used Lucas from time to time. I figured that since there's already a Lucas in X-Men: Evolution, I didn't need to make things any more complicated, so I've changed Bishop's name to Lucius. Personally, I think it was the right call. How many people even noticed that change?