Author's Notes:Jake's powers are control of electromagnetic energy (basically electricity and lighting) and slight psychic ability on his mom's side. Hence why he was a bit of a spaz just before the bomb went off.
Aura's power is a high class healing factor that was off the charts when it showed up in her early years of life, and her others come from her father who, being a scientist of sorts, manipulated her DNA and gave her wings and super senses that allow for awesome battle and flying abilities.
Read and enjoy folks. :D
--------------------------------------------------------------------------Rogue didn't have a clue whether or not Gambit was still alive. She didn't have the slightest idea where he'd landed amongst the shattered walls, or what on Earth made him think that it was a good idea to charge a bunch of cards before evaluating the situation.
I guess that's what comes from refusing to train with the team that he's assigned to. Idiot. She thought angrily. It was very true that Rogue was tearing through rubble on a blind search, with only a hunch and her own determination to guide her. She didn't know why this was all happening, now, so closely after what had happened with Apocalypse.
But she did know that she wanted to get her hands on that Cajun more than anything.
Tears sprang into her eyes as she reached the cement floor. To punch him, o' course. She amended as her heart gave a slight twang at the thought of her hands on Gambit. Be semi-professional, girl. A cough caught her attention as it came just from her left. "Rogue," a weak voice rasped out from under the dusty cement.
"Remy?!" Rogue found herself slipping in and out of her comfort zone, also known as battle mode, as she tore the heavy blocks off of him in what seemed to take forever. Time stood still as she wrapped her arms around his torso and hauled him from the crushing mass. "Remy?! Can ya hear me?!" She didn't realize the panic in her voice until he winced and gave a slight grin.
"O' course, chere, no need to get scared." He said with his eyes closed. But the humor that made his mind dance with pleasure at the thought of her being concerned for him after the way that she had acted earlier in the night quickly vanished when he felt wetness rolling down his cheek. He knew that he wasn't crying. His own injuries were minor, a few scrapes and bruises. Was he bleeding? Oh merde, he thought, recalling that cranial injuries were the worst. But as he lifted his head to check for the sticky and messy blood that he thought would surely be coating the left side of his face, he felt a few more drops hit him from a higher height than the last, and splatter on impact.
He finally opened his eyes. And what he saw broke what little of a heart that he swore was left.
All his years training in the elaborate fighting styles, pick pocketing techniques, and scams that would initiate him to be a Thief had desensitized him to emotions of himself and the people around him. Working as a hired hand for Ole Buckethead had certainly carried on with the tradition. Remy finally realized that after the long and strenuous hours that Rogue had put aside for him to learn how to work in a team the way that real X-Men did and putting her through the harsh words, criticisms and stupid comments, he was an idiot. Rogue...Anna Marie, the girl that loomed over him now, truly did care for him.
His only question was if he could care back.
"Petit, Don' cry. I'm fine. Not'in' a few band aids cou'n't fix." He said giving her a weak smile. Why was his heart pushing against his chest? Why did it feel like it was about to burst at the sight of her beautiful face streaked with tears? Why- Dammit, homme, get a hold o' yerself. Dis ain't no time fo' personal reflection. Dere be dead people out there.
"Rogue, where de others?"
"I was not cryin'." She muttered quickly. Clearing her throat and straightening her back with great pride she said "Aura an' Jake have gone ahead to look for..." She couldn't bring herself to say it. Survivors. It was such a bleak and hopeless word in her home. Whenever the mansion was attacked, they always found almost everyone alive. But the people that made the number an 'almost' figure were the ones that made the living so bittersweet. It was easy to be detached when everyone was hurting. But when there was such an acute and brutal attack so close to home, it made going on with everyday thoughts, and everyday life so hard.
But they too had to join the search. Because right then, survivors were growing fewer by the moment.
Okay. so more details in the next chapter. read on:D