She hesitated, then knocked on the carved oak door of the professor's study.
"Come in," he called.
Rogue entered, marveling as always at the quiet opulence. Nothing in the room screamed money, but the overall effect was one of elegant, exquisite taste. It suited the professor perfectly, but Rogue always felt garish and brazen. Out of place, which seemed to be par for the course.
"Good morning. Coffee?" the professor asked, already pouring. She took the delicate cup and saucer, banded with gold, and brushed a gloved tip along the graceful curl of the handle.
"Thanks."
He took in her appearance as she drank. Her customary hard façade was missing this morning, he noted. Her hair, normally dried to a blunt straightness, fell in haphazard curls around her face, and she wore none of the usual makeup. Typically, she was all nervous energy, so tightly held that she nearly vibrated. The last few months, she had given him the impression of almost losing that hold, of currents of anguish that, allowed free, would lash anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. This morning, though, that crackling tension seemed to have eased slightly.
"I take it your session with Logan went well?"
She started to speak, then seemed to think better of it. "It was fine," she said eventually.
He lifted an eyebrow. "That's an unusual description. I'm not sure I've heard any of the students refer to a session in quite that manner before. And your commentary is typically much more colorful."
"It's too early to be colorful," she muttered.
"Ah, yes. Would it be easier for you if we met in the evening?" They had always worked together in the mornings. The mental toll of keeping the personalities in check during the day usually left her unable to focus if they met later, but he knew she would have a long day ahead as well. "It's really up to you."
"Nah. Better to do it now. Going back-to-back -- you and another Danger Room session -- after a full day at school?" She shook her head. "It's just better to do it now."
He looked at her closely. "You're certain?"
She drained the rest of the coffee. "Yeah."
"I believe that we were working on Sabretooth." He didn't consult the file in front of him. He didn't need to. The sight of Rogue reliving the horrors of Creed's childhood weren't easily forgotten. Even Jean had been severely shaken by the mere psychic echoes of the sessions. "We can choose someone else for today."
She shook her head. "Ah want him done," she said roughly, slamming the cup down. "Ah want him gone."
"He won't be gone, Rogue. We've discussed that. Integrating the psyches means that you connect your own mind with the shade of his. Our work here draws off the most vivid memories and experiences, so that the connection is not so volatile, so draining, and it allows you to remain the one in control.
"Ah still don't understand. You took them out before, when Ah lost control. Why can't we just do that again?"
"Because that very nearly destroyed your mind," he said gently. "As soon as you absorb a person, they become a part of you. Your brainwaves, your synaptic pathways -- even your DNA -- they all change, for a short while. Ripping them out forcefully also tears away a piece of you. And I like you far too much, Rogue, to risk your life or your sanity in that manner again." He smiled at her.
She returned it weakly. "So Ah'm pretty much doomed to a life of Sabretooth snarlin' at me in ma own head?"
"It will fade in time." He hoped. These were all theories he and Hank had devised after Rogue had lost control of her powers. There were no guarantees, he reminded himself.
"Well, the sooner the better," she said, and squared her shoulders. "Let's go."
He wheeled himself around so that he was directly in front of her. He took her gloved hands in his, lightly. "Visualize him in your mind. Do you see him?"
Her voice was tight. "Big and uglier than homemade sin," she said.
Open your mind to me, Rogue. I can be more effective that way.
With an effort, she relaxed her mental shields enough so that she could feel the professor, a gentle, supportive pressure. Ah can't do any more.
"That's fine," he soothed. He spoke aloud, unwilling to tax the connection more than necessary. For him, telepathic conversations were as natural as spoken ones. But for Rogue, it diverted focus. "You're doing beautifully. Now picture yourself. Your hands are bare. You are comfortable and safe. He is no larger than you, Rogue. In your mind, he is smaller. This is your mind. He is merely an interloper."
"He's a pissed-off interloper," she said through gritted teeth. Already, beads of sweat had sprung along her hairline.
"Take his hand."
In her mind's eye, she reached out for Sabretooth's clawed hand. He couldn't physically hurt her, she reminded herself. Come on, you mangy thing. Give it here.
Bite me, bitch.
She hissed. I said, give it here. And steeling herself, she clasped his hand.
The contact, the transfer of memories, had her psychic self reeling.
"I can't hold it, professor!" Her panic crescendoed, her shout turning to a wail as she struggled for control.
"Focus. You can do it. I'm right here, Rogue."
Sabretooth roared in fury, and Rogue did too. He tried to drag his hand away, but she clamped her grip down. "Dammit! Stay still!"
The images bombarded her -- chained to an old car in the harsh Canadian winter, rank animal hides the only protection against the biting cold, vicious beatings, starved and then taunted with meals, only to be given a scrap of raw, maggot-infested meat. Her stomach recoiled, her head whirled, and she slumped, breaking the contact with the psyche.
"Holy crap," she breathed. She used her few remaining shreds of energy to keep from falling out of the chair. "How long?"
"A little more than seven minutes," he said.
"That's all?"
"That's an improvement. You did quite well." He studied her. She was ashen, sweat pouring off her face. Her eyelids fluttered. "You did very well."
"Ah feel like Ah was hit by a truck." She leaned forward, tucked her head between her knees.
"I'm sure you do. I wish that I could help you more," he said, regretful. "Your mind's defenses make it hard for me to act directly."
"No," she protested, sitting up again. "You do help. Ah can feel you there, kinda giving me a boost. It helps." She sat for a few minutes, trying to slow her breathing, to stop the tremors, to swallow down the bile. "God, it hurts. How does somethin' in mah head make mah whole body hurt?"
"Because what you're doing takes tremendous energy, Rogue. And I suspect it has much to do with how your powers work."
"That's not much help then, is it? Cause we don't really know how mah skin works."
"Dr. McCoy and I have been theorizing about that, actually. We suspect that your abilities are a combination of the physical and the psionic. That's the principle we're applying here."
"Meanin' what, exactly?"
"Your skin's ability to absorb is fixed, much like Scott's eyes. There is no toning down or modulating his optic blast, no way to temper the power. The only way to stop the beam is through external measures -- shutting his eyes, wearing his glasses or visor."
"And mah skin's like that. Always on." Her voice was flat. This wasn't news, she reminded herself. The professor had told her early on that he couldn't cure her skin. "So Scott gets visors, Ah get gloves."
"Yes, but Scott's powers will always be managed through artificial, physical means. It is my hope that you can learn to manage yours mentally."
She raised her eyes to him, exhausted and stunned. "Are you saying we could fix my skin?"
"I believe you could, with the proper training, stop your mind from reflexively triggering your absorption powers."
He saw it bloom across her face, a slow unfurling of hope. "Well then, no offense, but why are we wastin' time with this stuff?"
"Because you'll need to have every ounce of mental strength you can summon. If you're expending energy trying to prevent the psyches from taking over, you'll be unable to focus." He smiled at her again, squeezed her hands gently. "I promise you, Rogue. As soon as we have the personalities under control -- integrated or better contained, we'll start working on this."
"Then let's get back to work," she said simply. "No sense wasting time."
They worked for another half-hour, each episode leaving her progressively weaker. Finally, Charles stopped it.
"That's enough for today."
"But Ah can keep going," she protested feebly. "Just gimme a minute."
"I know you're eager to increase the rate of integration, Rogue, but you've had enough for one day." She was pale and trembling, but her hands gripped the arms of the chair resolutely. "I'm telling Logan to cancel the afternoon sessions."
"You can't. He'll think Ah complained."
"I will tell him it was my decision. Besides, I had thought things were better between you. You seemed…more at ease…when you came in."
She shifted, uncomfortable. "It's hard to explain."
He didn't press. "It's a rare thing for Logan to worry so. I imagine that sensation was very difficult for him."
She was silent, and he changed the subject. "Do you want to continue working on Sabretooth? Or should we switch to someone less…challenging?"
"No. Ah want to finish him. He takes up a lot of space, y'know?"
"That's fine. Who should we deal with next?"
"Someone easy. Jean, maybe?"
"I don't think you'll find integrating Jean altogether simple," he said dryly. "What about Scott?"
"No," she said. "Not Scott."
"Perhaps Jamie, then?"
"Jamie'd be good."
He hated to bring it up, but he wanted to prepare her. "What about Mr. LeBeau?"
"Remy?"
"Yes. Does he…take up a great deal of space?"
She flushed. "Not too much. It's fine. Ah'd like…Ah'd like to leave him for a while," she said, remembering the conversation in the living room the night before. He had secrets. She wanted to respect that. "Not forever. Ah know Ah'll have to eventually," she said quickly. "Ah just want to leave him till later, okay?"
"Whatever you like. How are you feeling now?"
"Wiped out. But Ah'll be all right. Just don't expect a great result on that calculus test."
"Should I have been?"
"No. But this is a better excuse." She pushed out of the chair, still a little wobbly. "Ah'd better get ready for class."
"Yes. Good luck on your exam."
"Thanks." She opened the door, saw Storm waiting discreetly in the hallway. "Mornin'" she murmured, with a small wave.
The slim, poised woman entered the study. "How did it go?" she asked.
"As well as could be expected. She's quite driven, you know."
"Yes." Storm handed him a slim file, her face troubled.
"I presume this is not good news."
"No. Evan contacted me this morning. There was an attack on the Morlocks late last night.
Charles straightened, alarmed. "Was he hurt? What of the rest of the group?"
"There are some minor injuries, but nothing too serious. Still, this is a new approach."
"Does Evan know who is responsible?"
"There have been rumors circulating of a new anti-mutant organization gaining strength in the city. They have been antagonizing the Morlocks, but this level of escalation was unexpected."
"What precipitated the attack, then? How great of a threat do they pose?"
"I'm not certain. I'd like to gather some more information, then go and see Evan in person. We may be able to assist him."
"That sounds like an appropriate course of action. Keep me informed."
She nodded and walked to the door, then stopped. "I miss him, Charles."
"I know. Perhaps he will come back to us, given time and freedom."
"Perhaps."
*
*
*
*
*
Remy strolled to the kitchen, intent on a cup of coffee and finding Rogue. To his dismay, it was Logan in the kitchen, eating some sort of hash. The older man's eyes narrowed as he entered, but he said nothing, merely leaned against the counter and forked up another bite.
"Bonjour." Remy was curt. "You run her ragged dis mornin'?" He poked around until he found a mug, then poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Not your concern, bub."
Remy took an apple from a bowl on the island, rubbed it on his sleeve. "Tend to disagree, homme. Long as she wants me here, it's my concern."
"She ain't gonna want you here long." He scooped up the last bite of food, but didn't move from his seat at the island.
Remy smiled like a switchblade. "We'll see. She around?"
"The kids left for school already," he said grudgingly.
The smile vanished and his eyes flared. "Y'all let her go? With Dane still out there?"
"Cyclops and Jeannie took the whole crew. She's fine." Logan didn't mention he'd be heading over after breakfast.
"Any leads yet?" He passed by Logan and sat at the old pine table, tipping his chair back.
"No." Logan hated to admit it.
"I'll ask around," Remy said, crunching into the apple.
"We don't need your help. Don't want it, either."
"Your professor don't t'ink so. He figures Rogue's in trouble."
"We're fixing it."
"Yeah, you fixed things real nice last night."
Instantly, the claws were out, and Logan pushed away from the island. "I like to finish my breakfast before I start hacking people up, Cajun. But I'll make an exception in your case."
"Ease up," Remy snapped. He slammed the chair down and a charged deck appeared in his hand. "I ain't the one who made her cry."
Logan didn't retract the claws. "Yet. You will. I know your type."
"I ain't a type. I'm an original. One-of-a-kind."
"One-of-a-kind asshole, maybe. I don't see much original in you stalking Rogue."
"I ain't stalkin' her."
"You were following her when she had her run-in with Dane. Kitty says she's seen you around the school, warning other guys off her. Seems like stalking to me."
Remy shrugged. "She's nice to watch. Got a pretty way of moving, dat fille does."
Logan growled.
"Besides," Remy pointed out. "I did help her out of dat situation wit Dane. Don' a guy earn points for a rescue 'round here?"
"You really want to tally up points, smart-ass?"
Remy counted on his fingers. "One. Got her out of de club Friday. Two. Helped you track her down when she was in Tibet. Three. Warned off de guys who were threatenin' t'get her expelled. Don' t'ink much o'school, but she does. Seemed a shame, her gettin' booted jus' for bein' a mutant." He paused, then smiled coldly. "Four. Made her laugh after you kicked her in the gut last night. You gonna keep score, I t'ink dis Cajun doin' pretty well."
Logan pulled his claws in and crossed his arms. "One. Set her up in that mess with the Sentinels, so she ended up with Trask. Two. Worked for Magneto."
"Told you. Dat a job."
"Three. You've got no principles. You didn't work for Magneto because you thought he was right. You just wanted cash. Why wouldn't you sell Rogue out to the highest bidder?"
He straightened slowly, dangerously calm. "I wouldn't."
"And I should take your word on it?"
"You need me to give it? Didn't t'ink you'd put much trust in de word of a…an Acolyte." Was it possible they didn't know about the Guild, he wondered. "I won't do anyt'ing to harm her. Won't let anyone else, either. Dat include you."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Dat girl t'inks it okay you treated her like crap last night. She says it's complicated, but it ain't. She t'ink you hung de moon, so when you kick her around at dinner or while she's watching TV, or in some lame training session, she t'ink she deserve it. She don't. If you pissed 'bout me being here, take it up wit me. You pissed at her, sort it out. But don't you shut her down like dat again. She's been through enough."
"What, you're going to stand for her now?" Logan's snort made clear his opinion of Remy as knight-errant.
"Somebody needs to."
"No. Rogue needs to stand for herself. And if you had bothered to haul your ass out of bed before she left today, she might have told you that she did exactly that this morning. Or maybe she wouldn't. She doesn't owe you anything."
"Never said she did."
"I told Rogue this morning. I'll tell you now. I don't ever want to see a scene like last night again."
Remy laughed. "And what did de fille say to that?"
"Doesn't matter. I'm telling you now."
"If somet'in else gonna happen wit me and de Rogue…dat's up to her. I'm always willing t'spend time wit' une belle fille."
"She's not some tramp you picked up at Mardi Gras."
"Dat she ain't," Remy said coolly. He downed the coffee, finished the apple, and tossed the core in the trash. "I got work to do."
"What kind of work?" he growled, suspicious.
"Work. Like you said, don't owe you anything, homme."
*
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*
*
*
Rogue came home from school to find Remy sprawled on her bed playing solitaire.
"Just because there's no lock doesn't mean you get to come in without askin'," she muttered, dumping a battered messenger bag next to her desk.
"Missed you, too, chere. Long day?" She looked beat, he thought, like she had already gone several rounds and was gearing up for another. He scooped up the cards neatly and began shuffling out of habit.
"Long enough. Get offa mah bed." She sat on the floor and tugged off her boots.
"I could move over," he said, a mock leer on his face. "It'd be a tight fit, but I don't mind."
"Ah do. And you're wrinklin' the covers."
He sat up and smoothed out the delicately embroidered spread. Ivory silk with a complex pattern of orchids, lotus flowers, hummingbirds. "Not what I pictured for you, chere. Thought it'd be all black."
"Have you met Kitty? Mah roommate? You think Ah was gonna get away with all black?"
He glanced at Kitty's side of the room, peony pink and crammed with stuffed animals. "See yo' point. Suits you, the more I look at it. Still," he continued, "just not what I expected."
"Logan brought it back for me. One of his trips. He said he was tired of hearin' me and Kitty bitch at each other."
The notion of Logan choosing Rogue's sheets irked him. "De Wolverine pick out your pajamas, too? That why he get so mad when he saw us last night?"
She looked at him, baffled. "That's the stupidest thing Ah've heard you say, Gambit, and that's sayin' somethin'."
"So you and him…" he trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.
She raised that eyebrow again, putting him in place with a mere look. "Are complicated. But not that complicated. You jealous, swamp rat?" She smirked, pleased to have the upper hand for once.
"I don't get jealous," he said haughtily.
"This is what, then? Idle curiosity? You lookin' out for mah emotional well-bein'?" She started to move past him towards her closet, let out a yelp when he snagged her by the waist and pulled her onto the bed.
"Just like to know what I'm getting into, dat's all." He tugged her forward so that she had no choice but to rest her hands on either side of him, propping herself up. He grinned at her, dark eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Right now, you're gettin' into trouble. Ah've got another training session in twenty minutes. Now let go."
"But it's such a nice view," he protested, wrapping his arms snugly around her waist.
She started to struggle, trying not to laugh. "Jerk."
"You wanna keep wiggling, dat fine by me."
Instantly, she went still. "You're not playing fair, Remy."
"Why start now?" But he let her go, and she slid to the side, quickly putting several inches between them. "You know," he said, "you scoot over much more, you're gonna land on your…"
There was a resounding thump as she fell. "Shut up, Cajun," she said dangerously, but he couldn't help laughing.
"Sorry, chere," he said through his chuckles.
Quick as a snake, she reached up and grabbed his belt, hauling him to the floor. "See how you like--oof," she gasped, as he fell on top of her.
His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Like it a bunch," he said.
"You're a lot heavier than you look," she said.
"Yeah." He wasn't listening. His eyes, onyx and ruby, had locked on hers and the air grew heavy between them. His gloved thumb slowly rubbed the side of her neck.
"Remy?"
"Yeah?"
"Rogue!" Kurt cried as he ported into the room, appearing on the opposite side of the bed. He looked around wildly. "Are you okay? What was that noise? Rogue?"
Remy dropped his head and rolled to the side. Rogue struggled to standing, tugging at her clothes.
"Ah'm fine, Kurt. Ah just…"
"Chere ain't got no balance," said Remy, springing up lightly.
Kurt's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?" he spat the words at Remy.
"Nothin', Kurt. He didn't do anything. Don't y'all ever think about knocking?" she added as Kitty phased through the door at a run.
"Are you okay?"
"Ah'm fine!"
"Second time you all came bargin' in on us, though."
Kurt's rounded on his sister. "Us?"
Rogue groaned. "I fell, Kurt. And then Remy…"
"Tripped?" Kitty prompted.
"Yeah. Honest, Kurt. It isn't anything." She didn't miss the sudden coolness of Remy's look.
He grabbed his coat from the desk chair. "Gotta go."
"Remy, wait," she called. But he was out the door.
She looked at Kitty helplessly. "Go," Kitty instructed, shooing her out. Rogue nodded, dashing out the door in her bare feet.
"What'd I miss?" Kurt asked.
"How can you be so dense? You have a girlfriend, right? Are you, like, completely clueless?"
"I was worried about my sister! That's not a crime, you know," Kurt sulked.
"Neither is Remy spending time with her. He's not going to hurt her."
"You don't know that." He paced back and forth, tail whipping in frustration.
"Yes, I do. Don't you see he's interested in her?"
"I see that, Kitty. I just don't like it."
"Well, do you see that she likes him?"
"She's just flattered."
"No, she's falling for him. And you're just…just…mean to make her feel bad about it!" Furious for reasons she couldn't explain, she stomped out.
Rogue caught up with Remy outside his room. "Remy, will you wait? God, what are you so angry about?"
"It isn't anything?" he said icily. "What the hell does a man gotta do to rate as anything wit you, Rogue? I ain't one of your sainted X-Men, so I'm out of de running?"
"That's not fair, Remy."
"Life ain't fair. And I sure as hell ain't no saint. Better get used to it."
She bristled. "Do you know how much crap people are givin' me about all of this?"
"Didn't realize I was such an inconvenience. You want me to go?"
The floor seemed to drop beneath her feet, but she shrugged, feigning indifference. "If you want to leave, Remy, don't let me stop you."
"You didn't answer de question. You want me to go?"
"Ah told you…"
"You told me it was up t'me. Don't need your permission t'leave, Rogue. But don't turn it 'round like dat. You want me t' go, say de word. But you can't say it's my choice and then call me de bad guy if you don't like what I choose."
She bit her lip, shifted her weight. "Ah don't want you to go," she said finally.
"You sure?"
She looked at him, exasperated. "Remy, are you trying to make me squirm?"
He flashed a quick grin. "Can't say as I mind it."
She sighed. He shifted gears so quickly it nearly made her dizzy. "Ah'm sorry. Ah shouldn't have said that to Kurt."
"Did you mean it?"
For a moment, she was silent, weighing her words. "No. Ah don't know what this is. But it's something. Isn't it?"
Now he smiled broadly, and the tightness in her chest eased a little. "I hope so. You ain't de only one catchin' hell over dis. Cryin' shame if it's all for nothin'."
"Yeah. Can't have that," she said, then glanced at her watch. "Ah'm gonna be late!"
"Best hurry. I've had enough words with Wolverine today."
"What?"
"Never mind, chere. Go on. I'll see you at dinner."
She took off running, and Remy let himself into his room, humming as he did. That girl, he thought, could wear a man out just keeping up with her, let alone trying to stay one step ahead.
*
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*
"I am unconvinced. What makes you think it will work?" The man behind the desk regarded Dane impassively.
"I can't get into the mansion. We won't get her that way, especially if you want it untraceable. There's no way. And they're on their guard right now. I'd have to go through the whole team to grab her. Give it a little time, let them think we've lost interest. When she's comfortable again, she'll get sloppy."
"Why should I not think that this is a delaying tactic on your part? Thus far, your work has not warranted your fee. Perhaps I should ask for…restitution."
Dane spoke quickly, feeling the beginnings of a cold sweat. "I memorized the files you gave me. He's their weak link. And Xavier's so dedicated to the whole "peace and harmony" idea, he's got blinders on. It'll work. It's already in motion. They won't realize what's happened until it's too late."
His employer was dubious. "Perhaps you require assistance. I have sources who would be quite pleased to join you in this endeavor."
"I don't need a baby-sitter. You said you wanted this quiet. If you bring in someone else, it'll be too easy to follow back to you."
"I am losing patience."
"You'll have her. Soon."
"Yes, I shall."
Sigh. I'm sorry, guys. This one moved slowly, both in real life and in a narrative sense, but it's all groundwork, I swear. Took me a while to make sure I wasn't painting myself into a corner, continuity-wise. Coming up -- more Romy, and Dane makes a move (finally!).