Hi again! Thanks so much to everyone who continue to support this story and to those who've just recently jumped on board! I really wasn't expecting too much from this one, but you all have renewed my faith in the idea that maybe I'm capable of writing something worth reading.
FYI: I have ZERO medical expertise, and my knowledge of any American cities (besides where the shopping mall, Target, and various other box stores are in Grand Forks) , airport surveillance, and public records hacking is NIL. So I hope I managed to fake it enough to make it. If there are any ridiculously glaring errors that need to be fixed, review or PM me with how I should edit it.
As always read, enjoy, and leave a little note if you have the time :)
Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Safe as Houses
The van screeched to a halt when Remy spotted a black, leather purse lying in the middle of the street. He rushed out of the vehicle and jogged toward it, picking it up. He surveyed the area until his eyes landed on a crumpled form in the alley. The purse dropped out of his hand as he crouched down beside her. Lifting his uncovered index and pinkie fingers up and out of the way, he used his gloved middle finger and thumb to brush the hair away from her face. He paused and frowned when he noticed a little bit of blood on the back of her head. He tilted his head to the side and leaned it close to her face, thankful when he felt her breath on his cheek. Moving his head back carefully as to avoid touching her skin, he did a quick once over to check for any other obvious injuries. Logan and Scott were behind him, waiting for a report of any kind.
"She's unconscious but breathin'. There's a little blood on the back of her head, but it don't look major. Prob'ly jus' scraped it against the brick when she hit," Remy said. He looked over his shoulder, and tossed a set of keys at Logan before turning his attention back to Rogue and carefully lifting her up.
"Here, take this, it'll look good on ya," Logan said as he picked up the purse and shoved it at Scott before following Remy back to the vehicle. Scott gave an indignant sneer, but said nothing as he trailed behind the other two.
They placed her on the cot in the back of the van and Remy climbed in back to watch over her while they drove back to the institute. Scott got a hold of Jean via his communicator to let them know they were on their way back and to have the med lab prepped. Logan and Scott climbed in the front, and began the short journey back home.
"Well, whoever did this wasn't looking to rob her," Scott said upon seeing the stack of bills in her wallet.
Logan momentarily glanced at Scott, "What the hell are you doing?"
"We want to know what name she's been going by the last few years. I figured her wallet would be the easiest way to find out." He peered into a few more compartments before sighing dejectedly.
"What? No dice?" Logan smirked.
"What kind of person carries no ID whatsoever with them?"
"The kind of person who's on the run. Question is who or what's she running from?"
"I guess we'll either have to wait for her to tell us herself, or see what Kitty dredges up," Scott zipped up the purse and let it rest on his lap.
The rest of the ride back to the mansion was quiet. Remy couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes from her face. That same feeling was needling at the back of his brain like it did earlier at the bar. There was something different about this girl and God help him; he wanted to find out what it was that had drawn him to her like this. He felt the van slow before coming to a complete stop. Soon after, the back doors opened to reveal Hank and Jean waiting to tend to their patient. He helped place her on the stretcher and then stood back as they wheeled her down to the med lab. "I'm goin' for a smoke," he said to no one in particular while walking toward the doorway.
~oOo~
Jean couldn't believe her eyes. Hank had asked her to undress Rogue and get her in a hospital gown so that they could take some x-rays. She was shocked to find her body littered in big, angry bruises. Given the way she was found, Jean knew there would be some bruising, but this was beyond what she expected to see. The one that sickened her the most was the one on her upper arm. "Hank?" she called to the doctor.
At the slight tremble in her voice, Hank quickly rushed over to see what the matter was. He was momentarily shocked, but quickly went into doctor mode and began examining her body for any other trauma. "Hmm," he muttered as he looked at her arm.
"What is it?"
"See this bruise here," he pointed to a light purple one on her shoulder, "this one is from today. It may look light, but by tomorrow it'll darken considerably. This one however," he pointed to the hand-shaped one on her arm, "is at least a few days old. So are most of these bruises." He motioned for Jean to help lift her so that he could see her back. "These are older ones too; from about the same time as the one on her arm and on the rest of her body."
"What do you think happened?" Jean asked as they lay her back down.
Hank wasn't sure how to say it. Given the shape of the bruise on her arm, he had his suspicions, but he wanted to make absolutely sure before he jumped to any conclusions. "I'm sure there are a few possibilities. Why don't we get those x-rays done? They might tell us some more."
Jean just nodded. She wasn't stupid; she knew exactly what this looked like, but like Hank, she was waiting for the piece of evidence to either completely blow her theory to bits, or to confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
~oOo~
It was after everyone managed to get a few hours of sleep that they found themselves reconvening in the war room to discuss their newly acquired patient. Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table and looked around at his charges. All of the core team was present except Jean. She volunteered to stay in the med lab with Rogue in case she woke up. "Kitty, did you manage to learn any new information during your search?"
"Actually, I did get something. It's only a little, but none of it is what I expected," she said motioning to the papers in front of her. Charles nodded his head for her to continue. "I used facial recognition software to scan through the airport video feeds to see if I could find what flight she came in on. It turns out she only arrived in New York a couple of days ago, so it didn't take long to find. She flew in from Flint, Michigan under the name 'Anna Marie Richter'. I did a little more digging through Flint records and found a, get this, certificate of marriage on file and an open bank account under the names Augustus Richter and Anna Marie Richter. And to top it all off, there was a withdrawal of fifteen-hundred dollars by Anna Marie the same day her flight left Flint for New York."
"She was runnin' alright," Logan mumbled.
"Well, then I guess that further supports what Jean and I suspected after her examination," Hank threw in.
"What do you mean Hank?" Charles's brow furrowed slightly as he turned his head to the blue, furry doctor.
Walking over to the war room computer's control panel, Dr. McCoy typed a series of keystrokes that brought up various photographs and x-ray images on the large monitor. "When I asked Jean to replace her clothing with a hospital gown, we saw her that her body was covered in bruises." He zoomed in on the photos of her torso, legs and back before enlarging the one of her upper arm. "See this," he pointed to the bruise on her shoulder, "this one was inflicted earlier this morning. This one," he brought his finger down to the one lower down on her arm, "is a few days old." He switched to another photo of the same arm, but from a different angle.
A few gasps sounded as each occupant in the room visibly stiffened. "Goddess! That bruise is shaped like a handprint?" Ororo broke the moment of silence.
Hank nodded and pulled up the x-ray images. "Here we see some hairline fractures that are still healing on the ribcage. And here," he moved his had to circle around another area, "we see multiple markings from healed fractures on other ribs and various other areas of the body." He paused for a moment to let the information set in. "Based on the x-rays and medical examination alone, I can't make any definite conclusions. After all, an x-ray from anyone in this room, well except Logan, might look the same given some of the dangerous missions we go on and the injuries that result from them. Combined with Kitty's findings though…" he trailed off and let the others fill in their own blanks.
"Kitty," Scott suddenly spoke, "How old is the marriage certificate on file?"
She shuffled through her papers before finding the requested information. "Mmmm, looks like they got married about three years ago." Kitty looked up and furrowed her brow, "Not to sound shallow or anything, but doesn't Rogue's mutation keep her from touching people? I mean I'm sure there's someone out there who would be willing to look passed the whole no-touching thing, but …"
"Do you think she might have learned to control her powers?" Kurt asked.
Remy shook his head, "If someone touched her while she was attacked, wouldn't you think she'd stop herself from absorbin' them?"
"She could have used it as a defence mechanism," Kitty countered.
"Non," Remy said, "If that's the case, then she'da used it to fend off whoever did that to her." He motioned his head toward the screen. "An' you heard the prof, she hasn't used her powers since she went missin'."
"Gumbo's right," Logan stated. "If she hasn't used them in that many years, why start now? And if she did think it was a viable defence against attackers, why not use them before?"
"Professor?" Scott turned his head to his mentor.
"Perhaps it's best we wait and see what Rogue will tell us herself."
"And if she don't feel like talkin'?" Remy asked.
"Then I guess we continue to investigate."
~oOo~
Rodney was restocking his liquor bottles when he heard a fist slam down on the bar top behind him.
"Where the fuck is Marie?" the fuming man barked out.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Rodney said as he slowly turned around to face him.
"Cut the bullshit! She's been missing for the last few days and I know that you know where she's gone," Augustus ground out between clenched teeth.
"And why would you assume that I would know anything about that?" Rodney met his glare.
"She's missed two shifts in a row," Augustus explained. "Normally you'd call to check up on her if she was even a half-hour late, never mind missing a shift completely. But I haven't heard a peep from you, meaning you know you don't need to be worried about her."
"You know what? You're right, I did know she was leaving," Rodney drawled. "If it means she's away from you, I can't say I'm too upset about it."
"I knew you had something to do with this!" he raged as he reached over and grabbed Rodney's collar from across the bar. "Make this easy on yourself, and tell me where she's hiding, or I swear to God I'll beat the answer out of you if I have to."
"I didn't have anything to do with her decision. She made her own mind up and told me that she was leaving but not where she was going." He swung a glass up and broke it over Augustus' head before shoving him back into a table.
Augustus held the side of his head. "You're lying!" he shouted.
"No, I'm not. Now, I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I call the cops. And I never want to see you set foot in here again."
Augustus got to his feet, and with an enraged shout he turned around and knocked a chair over with his fist before stalking out of the bar. When the door slammed shut, Rodney released a breath he didn't know he was holding. All of a sudden, he wished he did know where Anna was just so he could warn her that her husband was insane with rage and trying to hunt her down. Wherever you are kid, I hope you're safe and have someone to protect you in case he does find you.
~oOo~
When he was a little boy, his father used to take him fishing. They would spend all morning and a good chunk of the afternoon by the pond waiting for the fish to bite. His mom would pack them a picnic and wave at them while they drove away… Wait… What? That didn't happen. She didn't remember her real parents, and she doesn't really remember ever having a father figure in her life. Irene was the one who raised her. But where did that memory come from? Suddenly it all came rushing back to her: the men in in the alley, the surge of someone else's memories stabbing into her brain, and the blackness that followed.
Jean was puttering around the lab when she heard the woman on the bed stir. She dropped the swabs she was restocking and rushed over to the bed. "Rogue? Can you hear me?"
The soft voice that echoed through her ears was somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place it. Her head was pounding, and her eyes almost refused to open at the thought of being assaulted with any form of light. She forced her eyelids to cooperate as they fluttered open, and a blur of red and flesh colour slowly came into focus.
"Rogue? I don't know if you remember me. I'm Jean Grey, from Xavier's Institute."
Rogue? She hadn't heard anyone call her that in a long time. The neurons were beginning to fire again, and Jean's face and voice were connecting with her memory. Xavier's? What was she doing at the home of the X-Men?
"Wolverine, Cyclops and Gambit found you unconscious in an alley and brought you here so we could look after you."
She remembered seeing Wolverine at the pub with a friend. Was this friend called Gambit? He wasn't wearing the glasses, so it couldn't have been Cyclops. Her thoughts suddenly stopped and she looked at Jean with full recognition. "Did you just read my mind?" she weakly uttered.
Jean smiled, "I don't need to read your mind to know that you're probably wondering where you are."
Anna nodded, and then grimaced at the pain in her head.
"Is your head hurting? I can give you something for the pain if you like."
"Uh, sure… thanks," she hoarsely replied. When Jean turned around to look through the medicine cabinet, Anna really began to take in her situation. She was here with the people she was once told to consider enemies, receiving care for injuries inflicted from drunken punks on the street. Looking down at the hospital gown she was now dressed in, she knew she'd be questioned later about the bruises. Maybe they'd just assume it was from the attack, if she was lucky. Jean returned with a small cup containing two pain pills, and a cup filled with water.
"Here you go," she said, holding the cups out to her.
Anna hissed in pain as she tried to sit herself up. Her ribs were still healing and were probably jostled when she was pushed down by her attackers.
"Oh, sorry!" Jean put the cups down on the side table. "Let me help you." She helped Anna sit up and when she looked more comfortable, handed her the pills and the water. "It will take a little while for those to kick in, but you should be feeling better soon enough."
They both turned their heads at the swish of the automatic doors. A tall, slim man in a trench coat practically glided in. He folded his arms across his chest and turned the corner of his lips up into a lazy grin. "Well, now… it looks like our sleepin' beauty is finally awake."
~oOo~
Charles Xavier was in his study milling over the recently dissolved meeting. It was clear that Rogue was hiding from someone. One didn't just drain half the money from an account shared with a spouse and hop a plane the same day for no reason. The images Hank showed them only reinforced the idea that she is likely running from her husband, this Augustus Richter. But why would she endure such abuse if she could essentially lay him out with a single touch?
His thoughts were cut off as a black bird landed on the sill of his open window. "If there's something you want, come right out and ask it."
The bird flew in and perched itself on the seat of a leather chair and then morphed into a blue skinned, red haired woman.
"Why are you here, Raven?" Charles asked, calmly.
"I understand that Rogue is here."
"And what exactly gave you that idea?"
"Who do you think dealt with the bastards that attacked her in the alley? Besides, I saw three of your stooges bring her here," she replied with a smirk.
Xavier nodded. "Very well, I assume that you're here because you want to take her back with you then?"
"Don't be a fool Charles," she scoffed. "If I wanted to take her, she would be gone and back home with me before you could even blink. I certainly wouldn't come begging you to let me take her." She stood up, turned her back on him at gazed out the window. "And don't get me wrong, if the situation was different, I would take her in a heartbeat. She belongs with me, where I know she's safe."
"So if you're not here to take her, why are you here, Raven?"
She sighed and turned back around to face him. "To warn you." At Charles' confused expression she continued to explain, "Destiny's been having visions about her. She's in danger and if we can't protect her, she could wind up seriously hurt or even dead. Someone or something is out to get her and whatever it is needs to be stopped. According to the visions, for the best possible outcome, she should stay here with you." Her last statement was tainted with bitterness.
"I understand," Charles nodded. "I'll make sure we do everything we can to keep her safe."
Mystique nodded and pressed her lips together. "How is she Charles?"
"The injuries she sustained after the attack in the alley are relatively minor. But she does have some previous injuries that have raised some disturbing questions."
Mystique's head snapped up to attention. "What do you mean?"
"We don't know for sure, but a medical exam revealed cracked ribs and evidence of a number of previous fractures. A significant portion of her body was covered in bruises that Dr. McCoy suspects are a few days old. We don't know for sure how the injuries were caused, but if Destiny's visions are true, then maybe it's all connected somehow."
Her face was tight with supressed rage. One of Irene's earlier visions that occurred just shortly before Rogue ran away indicated extreme pain and hardship for the young girl. She hated herself for letting her daughter slip away from her, and hated herself even more for being unable to find her. When she got her hands on whoever inflicted those injuries on her Anna Marie, he or she wasn't even going to live long enough to regret it. "I'll see what I can find out," she finally managed to say.
"May I suggest starting with the name Augustus Richter?" It was risky, but if anyone was good at finding information, it was Mystique.
"May I ask why?" she said through clenched teeth.
"Trust me when I say that it's better if you find out for yourself."