Chapter 3

Rogue looked at the crowd from behind a red, feathered mask. Everyone was elegantly dressed and wearing a variety of masks ranging from the simple to the extravagant. With her was the Professor (who looked hilarious in a mask, in Rogue's opinion), Storm (who looked gorgeous in any thing), Kitty and Pete.

"Remind me again why we agreed ta this?" Rogue asked.

"The Professor thought we should do some networking," Pete replied.

"Networkin'," Rogue mused. "Isn't that code for pretendin' ta be friends with someone so ya can get things from them?"

Pete chuckled.

"Oh look," said Kitty. "There's Warren."

Warren was in a tuxedo and a simple black mask, but the thing that made him really stick out in the crowd was that for one he hadn't bothered to hide his wings underneath a long coat. He noticed them at the same time and weaved his way through the crowd towards them.

"Good evening," he said. "I'm glad you could join us."

"Thank you for the invitation," the Professor replied. "I see you have quite a turn out."

"Yeah, and not everyone's here yet," Warren said musingly. "You guys look great, by the way."

"Thank you," said Storm with a slight smile.

"You appear to be causing quite a stir yourself," said Kitty, indicating the glances their group was getting.

"I'm in the mood to be perverse," Warren replied. "Everyone already knows I'm a mutant, they just don't like acknowledging it. Today I'm making them. It's actually kind of fun."

"Remy would approve," Rogue said with a grin.

"I'm sure he would," Warren replied dryly. "Anyway, I'm afraid I can't talk for long. More people to unnerve, erm, I mean greet."

Rogue and Kitty laughed. The group split up and began mingling with the crowd. Warren made a point throughout the evening to make sure his friends weren't just standing around bored and conducted the occasional rescue, although at one point it was not Kitty who needed rescuing, but the political activist she was talking to.

Later in the evening, Rogue was able to catch up with Warren and the two began chatting about their recent flight and how they should do it again some time.

"And speaking of nature," Rogue said, looking around. "Where's the ladies' around this place?"

"Uhh, I think it's over -" Warren began as he turned around.

There was no time to finish the sentence. As Warren turned, Rogue following his line of sight, he came face to face with one of the guests, who was barely a metre away and had a knife emerging from his sleeve.

"Die mutie!" the man cried.

Fortunately for Warren, Rogue registered the sharp, six-inch blade in barely enough time to step in between him and his attacker. The knife hit her instead, the force of the blow causing it to run down Rogue's invulnerable body and slit open the front of her dress.

"Well, that was rude," Rogue said as she caught both of the attacker's hands. "And Ah just bought this dress too,"

Behind her, Warren swallowed hard while his would-be-murderer spouted off some generic anti-mutant sentiments. By now everyone was turning to look. Rogue mentally thanked God that at least her bra had remained intact and she wasn't completely falling out of her ruined dress.

"You're a filthy mutie too," the attacker practically snarled at Rogue.

"Me?" Rogue asked. "Oh no, you must be mistaken. Ah had a shower before Ah came, so that actually makes me a clean mutant."

He spat in her face then proceeded to shriek about how she had to let him go, that they wouldn't stand for the 'muties' contaminating the gene pool and the human race any longer and that they were all abominations and needed to be wiped out. The room had all but fallen silent in response.

"So," Rogue said calmly but authoritatively, "You admit ya were tryin' ta kill Warren."

"Yes, I admit it," he said, proudly even.

"Good," Rogue replied and then lifted her head to look at the spectators. "Ya'll heard that, right?"

There was a brief moment of silence and then a murmur of assent across the room.

"Even better. Now, if someone will do me a favour and call the police? Ah don't want ta hold this guy all night."

She wouldn't mind a change of clothes, either, or at least a jacket.

Psylocke slipped through the shadows into the room where Gambit had set up shop. She could only assume that he had stolen the computer and the three monitors sitting on the table in front of him, as they hadn't been in the van on the trip out of the city. Right now, however, Gambit was fast asleep, his head resting on the table top. Psylocke wandered around to see what was on the screens and as her heels clacked on the floor, Gambit's head shot up. He looked around, blinked a few times and then his gaze fell on Psylocke.

"Good morning," she said as she dropped her bag on the floor.

"Good morning," Gambit replied groggily. "What time is it?"

"After nine."

"Merde."

"What exactly are you doing?" asked Psylocke.

As she asked the question, Psylocke leaned on the table next to Gambit with both her hands. Was it her imagination or did he shy away?

"Finally got int' the Purifiers' Base security feed last night," Gambit replied as he disconnected. "I'm getting a feel fo' the layout o' the base and making notes on security routines."

"So we can break in without getting caught."

"Right. O' course, in the short term all we can really do is disable the equipment. I'm not familiar wit' the exact missile dat dey're using so I need t' confirm what kind o' warhead we're dealing wit' before we start looking at how t' dispose o' dem."

"Easiest solution would be to detonate the lot of them where they stand," Psylocke replied. "Wipe out the Purifiers at the same time."

"Easiest, perhaps," Gambit replied. "Safest? Non. Our own safety aside, we have no idea at this stage where dey're being stored in relation t' civilian complexes. No telling how many innocent people might get killed."

"True. You can't tell how large the base is?" Psylocke asked.

"Trying t' piece t'gether floor plans from surveillance tapes is easier said dan done," Gambit said, pushing away from the table. "It's even harder when dere are no outdoor cameras where yo' need 'em and yo' have basement levels t' contend wit'. I need more time t' map t'ings out, and from dere extrapolate distances and den we can try t' fit t'ings on a map."

Psylocke nodded thoughtfully as Gambit headed to the kitchenette to make himself breakfast. Even just woken up he was still a fine looking man.

"You do this kind of thing often, love?" she asked.

"Casing places comes wit' the territory," Gambit replied with a half shrug. "Different jobs, different requirements. Personally, I prefer t' pick up blueprints, but dat's not always an option."

"Like now?"

"Uh huh."

Gambit turned away and continued putting his breakfast together. He could practically feel Psylocke's eyes on him and he wished she would just go away. The rational part of him knew that just because she was telekinetic didn't automatically mean she would try to have her way with him like Jessica did. The rest of him was in a state of panic whenever she was in the room.

"Marrow was going to meet us here," said Psylocke to break the awkward silence that rose between them. "Erg was going to stay with Anole. It's nice to see the shakes have finally gone."

"Bon," was Gambit's terse reply.

At the beginning of another awkward silence, Psylocke opened up her bag and pulled out the day's newspaper from amongst the other things she had acquired that morning. She pulled up a spare chair, rested her crossed legs on the table and began to read.

Gambit finished making his breakfast and turned around to see Psylocke quite at home. He didn't know which image got to him more: The telekinetic making herself at home in his room, or one of Marrow's friends actually reading. He knew Marrow could only read a little, and he was reasonably certain the same was true for Erg and Anole. He wondered if he'd be able to talk them into returning to Xavier's with him when this was over. Three – four counting Psylocke – was a lot more manageable than 30+.

He pushed the keyboard out of the way with his plate and set his mug on beside it as he sat back down again. Halfway through his breakfast, the door opened and shut with a bang and Marrow came stalking in.

"Morning," she said as she stepped into view.

"Morning," Gambit replied before filling his mouth again.

"Flyboy's made the front page," Psylocke said, turning the newspaper to the front page to show Marrow. "Some guy tried to murder him at the Masquerade Ball the Worthingtons were having."

"Hmph," Marrow snorted, taking the paper to get a better look at the photo. "Bet his parents hired him."

"Actually, I think he'd wearing a Purifier band."

"Worthingtons are probably funding the Purifiers."

"What's dis?" asked Gambit, looking up at them.

"Flyboy, umm, Warren Worthington the Third," Psylocke replied. "Son of the bastard who came up with the Cure. Some guy I think might be a Purifier tried to kill him. His girlfriend saved his ass."

"Warren doesn't have a girlfriend," Gambit replied.

"Not according to the paper," Psylocke replied with a shrug as Marrow handed Gambit the newspaper. "Although I will take the point that you can't take anything they write as gospel."

"You know Flyboy?" Marrow asked.

"He prefers 'Angel' as his mutant name," Gambit replied.

He studied the photo on the front page, which had been taken by someone's mobile phone at the event. Rogue in her sliced dress was holding the arms of the Purifier in front of her and behind her was Warren with his wings out and looking frazzled. Rogue's mask was big and elaborate enough to hide half her face and obscure her white streak. Nevertheless, Gambit had no problems recognising his own girlfriend.

"And he had better not be dating her," Gambit went on, "or I'm going to kick his ass."

"I'll help," said Marrow.

"Be nice. It's not his fault his father's a douche bag," Psylocke said and looked at Gambit curiously. "Who is she then?"

"My girlfriend, Rogue," Gambit replied.

"Flyboy – Angel's with the X-men too, huh?" asked Psylocke. "We thought he was acting on his own at Alcatraz."

"I wouldn't know about dat," Gambit replied. "He's not wit' the X-men per say. I t'ink o' him as a 'friend o' the X-men'."

"Like you?" Marrow asked dangerously.

"Sounds appropriate," Gambit said with a shrug as he pulled out his mobile phone. "Excusez-moi."

The two women fell silent while Gambit dialled and put the phone to his ear.

"Remy!" Rogue's voice said happily upon answering the phone.

"What's dis I hear about yo' leavin' me fo' another man?" Gambit asked.

"Ya saw that too, huh? Stupid reporters."

"Oui, how dare dey blow your cover."

"Ah know!" Rogue joked. "And here Warren and Ah thought we were gettin' away with it too."

"So I have t' ask..."

"Yeah?"

"Is the baby mine?"

"Idiot."

"Scamp."

"Rascal."

"Vixen."

"Ol' scoundrel."

"Skunkhead."

"Hey!" Rogue objected and then quickly added sweetly: "Remykins."

"Roguey-poo."

"Snookums."

"Cuddle bear."

"Honey bunch."

"I think we're going to have to stop there," Gambit said, grinning at the freaked out expression on Marrow's face. "I suspect Sarah's deux cutesy nicknames away from trying t' kill me as an impostor again."

Rogue laughed. Gambit had kept in contact with Rogue, but had only told her the bare minimum and that he was helping Marrow with something. Rogue remembered Marrow from the memories she had absorbed from him and Gambit was thankful she didn't ask any more questions.

"Tell Sarah Ah said 'hi'," Rogue said.

"Roguey says 'hi Sarah'," said Gambit.

Marrow just shook her head. Gambit chuckled.

"I t'ink I scared her, chére," Gambit said gleefully. "She just doesn't know what t' do."

"As long as ya come back ta me alive and in one piece."

"Oh I will."

"How's it going anyway? Any ETA?"

"Non," Gambit replied. "Too early t' tell."

"Yeah, Ah thought that would be the case," Rogue said with a sigh. "Ah miss you."

"I miss yo' too, ma chére. I'd better go. I'll talk t' yo' again soon, no?"

"Ya had better. Ah'll tell everyone ya said 'hi'."

"Bon. Love yo'."

"Love ya too."

Gambit looked away as he turned off his phone and put it back into this pocket.

"Aww," said Psylocke. "Aren't you just so cute?"

"Cute!" Marrow exploded. "Remy is not cute! He's –"

"Actually I have it on good authority that I have very cute buns," Gambit replied cheerfully.

Marrow waved a finger at him in exasperation.

"That sounds more like you," she said. "But that guy who was on the phone before? That was not you. That was some other guy I have never met in my life."

"Sarah, you're making too big a deal out of this," Psylocke said patiently. "This is perfectly normal 'in love' behaviour. Well, okay I will concede that not everyone feels the need to engage in name-calling wars, but then some people like to engage in 'you hang up' 'no, you hang up' wars, which are far more tacky."

"Esh," said Gambit. "If yo' ever catch moi doing dat, shoot me."

Psylocke laughed.

"Oh believe me," Marrow said darkly. "I will."

"I t'ink I shall take dis moment t' lay upon yo' the curse dat Tante Mattie laid on moi," Gambit said, cleared his throat and continued: "One day you're going t' find a fille – okay in your case, a garçon – who will sweep yo' off your feet. Unless yo' like filles, in which case –"

"The curse I got from my parents was 'I hope you have one just like you'," Psylocke interjected with a giggle.

"Oui, I got dat one too," Gambit said.

"That nice for you," Marrow practically snapped at them. "My family got slaughtered. Now if you're done with your lovey-dovey crap, I'd like to find out where things are at with the Purifier base?"

"Hey Rogue," called Jubilee at the door way of the rec room. "Your boyfriend's here!"

Rogue lifted her head eagerly and then glared at Jubilee when she realised that she was talking about Warren and not Gambit.

"Don't you start," said Warren as they walked over to join Rogue, Bobby, Kitty and Pete on the lounges. "I'm getting enough crap as it is."

"Tell me about it," Rogue said, and pointed her thumb at Jubilee and Bobby. "If it's not these two making like I'm two-timin' Remy, then it's Kitty finding all the websites and news articles she can pairin' us up. Ah mean, seriously, they don't even know muh name. How can they possibly do so much speculatin'?"

"You think you have it bad," Warren replied. "I've been getting all sorts of proposals this week, and not just the business variety."

"Marriage?" Jubilee asked with a giggle.

"Yeah, it's like: I don't even know you," Warren said, shaking his head.

"Oookay," said Rogue. "Why?"

"It's the wings," Warren replied. "I've been informed they make me 'incredibly sexy' and I even got offered a modelling contract."

Bobby promptly choked on his drink and ended up coughing and spluttering all over the place. Jubilee laughed at him.

"Yeah," Kitty said with a grin. "I noticed you got yourself a fan club."

"It's crazy."

"Did you take it?" asked Bobby

"Take what?" asked Warren.

"The modelling contract."

"Uhh no."

"Aww why not?"

"I'm not interested in modelling, that's why," Warren replied. "I have a perfectly good career in business. I'm not going to reduce myself to 'pin up model'."

"Why not?" asked Bobby. "I'd take that contract."

"You can have it," Warren said.

"You know Warren," Jubilee said, "if I didn't already know you, I'd love to have you for a pin up and plastered over my bedroom walls."

Warren gave her a disgusted look.

"Seriously," Jubilee went on, batting her eyelids. "You're a pretty boy with angel wings. You're the guy that every chick is going to get a crush on."

"Hey, what about me?" asked Bobby pathetically.

"No one's going to have a crush on Frosty the Snowman," Jubilee replied.

"Except you," Rogue said with a smirk.

"Actually," Kitty piped up before Jubilee could retort. "Maybe you should go for it."

"You have to be kidding me," Warren said.

"No seriously," Kitty said eagerly. "Jubilee does raise a valid point: you are a good looking guy, Warren, and there is a big market for umm, fantastical creatures -"

"Excuse me?"

"Not that I'm saying... I mean... Okay Orlando Bloom right? He's an elf in Lord of the Rings. His acting skills are irrelevant; the women of the world have declared that he's hot -"

"Actually Orlando does nothing for me," Rogue mused.

"Shush you. And the end result is that he can basically have any part he wants because the producers know that he has his huge following that'll see any movie he's in just because he's in it," Kitty said. "And then there's Rob Patterson, who's Edward Cullen on Twilight; he gets the same treatment."

"These are not people I care to be in the same category with," Warren said.

"But you could be the poster boy for 'mutants are awesome'," Kitty insisted. "Vampires and elves and stuff, they're not real, but you are. Okay so maybe you're not an angel in the Biblical sense, but that's not the point. Women go for that kind of thing -"

"And some men," Bobby put in with a grin.

Warren pulled a face and Kitty glared at Bobby.

"Not helping," Kitty said firmly.

"So basically you're sayin' that Warren could be the male Paris Hilton," Rogue said.

"No," Warren stated firmly.

"I'm not saying that at all," Kitty objected.

"Sure you are," Rogue replied. "Orlando and Rob act for a livin', but Paris doesn't need ta do any of the stuff she does. She's an heiress. She can do whatever she wants for a livin' and she decided ta play the 'attention whore' card. Same deal. Warren can do whatever he wants for a livin' too, and you're tryin' ta talk him inta playin' the 'attention whore' card as well."

"But that's not what I mean," Kitty insisted. "Look, public opinion on mutants was looking up until Overdrive reared its ugly head, and now it's plummeted down again. Everyone's focusing on all the bad things that are happening and could happen, but no one's looking at the good things or the benefits of being a mutant. Seriously, Warren, you're sexy and rich, so that's a killer combination right there, but the thing that really tops the cake for 'mutant poster boy'? Your wings. They're the classical angel wings and you can fly. Seriously who wouldn't want to be able to fly? You're appealing to the dreamers right there and we've already covered the women. Flying is, ahem, harmless enough that the haters have no real grounds to complain. I mean, they can't get all paranoid about you breaching privacy or national security or whatever. And you appeal to the mutant community because you not only have a visual sign of mutation, but you'd also make an awesome symbol of hope to everyone that things can work out; we can have peace between humans and mutants."

"Yeah," Warren said dryly. "And as a symbol, I'd also make a prime target. Again. And I'm not going to be a martyr for the cause, thank you very much."

"So, hire Rogue as a bodyguard," Kitty suggested with a grin at Rogue. "She's done a pretty good job so far."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Warren," Rogue said, "but pass. When Ah envision muh future, Ah'm not playin' bodyguard."

"It would be like the movie The Bodyguard," Bobby said musingly. "Only gender-reversed."

"I'm sure Remy would have a few things to say about that," Warren said dryly.

"You've watched The Bodyguard?" Rogue asked Bobby.

"Uhh... under duress," Bobby said pointing to Jubilee.

"Don't point at me, I've never even seen it," Jubilee objected. "Okay, maybe once. Years and years ago."

"And you made me watch it with you."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Look, whatever you decide, we're there for you," Kitty said to Warren over the top of Jubilee and Bobby's latest argument. "But this isn't just going to go away. The Worthingtons have been in the spotlight ever since the Cure, and now the proof of your rumoured mutation has been splashed on the headlines all over the country, to say nothing of where it's gone online. You may as well make it work for you."

Warren let out a breath and shook his head.

"I take the point," he said finally, "but that lifestyle just isn't for me."

"But –"

"So what are you guys doing for Christmas? I'm debating whether to endure Christmas with the family this year or come here instead," Warren asked.

"Just the usual," Bobby said, "We'll have our Christmas party the night before people go home for the holidays, then lunch on Christmas Day."

"You should be with your family," Kitty said firmly. "I think things are going crappy for you, hun, but that doesn't make them any less important."

"Da," Pete agreed.