: HOUSE OF CARDS :
PART SIX : COMPLETION
(19) - Revelations -
Winter 2012
"Rogue? D'you think you could come out anytime soon? Only Mystique sent me and Dom wading through sewers just to get to New York's main power grid this afternoon and I feel like I'm gonna catch some totally last century disease or somethin'."
"Sorry, St. John!" Rogue shouted back from within the shower as she reached for the shampoo. "But you'll have to wait your turn! Ah'm kinda busy right now!"
She heard Pyro mouth some obscenities, but ducked back under the jet stream before she could hear anymore complaints. Here in their new, ramshackle headquarters, there wasn't even any basic central heating, and as luck would have it, it was now the coldest winter for seventeen years. Rogue's room was like its very own ice cube, and the only respite she got from the cold was here, standing under the shower. Installing heating was the last thing on Raven's agenda, and the guy who could actually build the damn thing - Forge - was busy on some other project that was consuming most of his time, energy, and social hours. Rogue hadn't even seen him for days. Mystique too seemed to be in a frenzy of activity, poring over books and charts and spending whole nights sat in front of her laptop, square-eyed, which led Rogue to suspect that the Brotherhood's next big mission was in the pipeline.
The past year and a half, things had been relatively quiet, what with the Troy Rifkind debacle. Overnight Rogue had gone from being a low-level mutant terrorist to top of the country's most wanted list. Consequently Mystique had moved their base to the very outskirts of the City, where she had forbidden Rogue from engaging in any activities for the next few months. Rogue had not objected to this, preferring to lay low for a while; but then she had begun to pester Mystique once more for work, and Raven had finally, albeit grudgingly, allowed her to go out on some minor excursions.
The reason Rogue asked for this work had less to do with the thrill of the chase than with seeing Remy again. She wondered whether he was looking for her, even worrying about her, for to all intents and purposes she had dropped off the face of the earth, breaking off all her usual contacts and of course, dying the white streak in her hair brown. Yet she had never quite given up faith that he would find her, somehow - he always had in the past, without any seeming rhyme or reason, and she had suspected more than once that he was having her followed. But the months slipped by, and he never once showed his face. She didn't dare go to any of her old haunts for fear of being recognised, and besides, Mystique refused to send her on big jobs in the City, she said it was too dangerous and she wasn't willing to put Rogue into such jeopardy. Nevertheless, there were times that Rogue would loiter about in one specific place, on a street corner or by a lamppost, for no other reason than to wait for someone to approach her, for him to approach her… But he never did. However long she stood, in the rain or the cold, in the darkness of night, there would be no rendezvous, no impromptu appearance as if from thin air, the kind she had always come to expect; invariably she would leave empty-handed.
By the seventh month she had learnt to accept that he was no longer looking for her. She wondered if he had forgotten about her, or given up on her, or even worse, was injured or dead. Maybe he thought that she didn't want to be found. She had after all made herself invisible for several months, and she couldn't quite entertain the fact that he didn't want to see her again, not after their last parting, not after seeing the look in his eyes when he'd left her.
But then, of course, she knew so very little about him, except that he was unpredictable and fickle by nature, and that his urges may have taken him to the doors of many more women besides her. And yet still she could not believe he would abandon her, however far from her path he strayed.
For the next ten minutes or so Rogue let these thoughts consume her, and when she emerged from the shower the bathroom was enveloped in a dense cloud of steam. She towelled slowly and dressed, not wanting to leave the relative comfort and warmth; when she finally came outside, St. John was practically foaming at the mouth.
"Thank bloody God! I always knew you Sheilas take ages in the bathroom, but not this bloody long!"
"Ah was busy," Rogue replied, grimacing a little; she had to admit that her pyromaniac comrade definitely smelled like he had walked through a sewer and then some. "Mah Gawd, yah stink!"
"Tell me about it," St. John muttered miserably. "I figured that since you'd forfeited all the undercover ops, me and Dom would get something exciting, but Mystique's still makin' us do all the dirty work. Why doesn't she make you do them? It's not like you're busy these days."
"Ah'm her daughter," Rogue answered with a slight smile. "Ah get certain privileges you boys don't."
"It's bloody favouritism, that's what it is," St. John grumbled. "Me and Dom have been workin' for the Brotherhood way longer than you or Forge have, even while you were with those X-Geeks. It's days like these I wish I could go back to my writing. Not that anyone would read the philosophical ramblings of a mutant terrorist these days," he added as a morose afterthought.
"Philosophical ramblings?" Rogue snorted. "More like flimsy airport romances to me."
"You just have no taste in good literature," Pyro sniffed haughtily. "One day, when all this is over and the Brotherhood free the mutant race, I'm going to write my autobiography and it'll get rave reviews. I'll be everyone's favourite hero - Captain America can go eat his overrated heart out."
"So you're gonna be the hero who waded through sewer sludge and came out smellin' like a baby's butt?" Rogue noted dryly. "Sounds like you're onto a winnin' formula already, sugah."
It was an unfortunate fact that Pyro was often put upon for having a romantic soul, and by now he was used to the teasing, so he ignored her statement.
"You can be my heroine, if you like," he winked at her. "The famous Pyro and the infamous girl with the white streak in her hair. Now that sounds like a winning formula to me. Speaking of," he continued slyly, narrowing his eyes and staring at her hair, "I see the white streak's made a comeback. Oy, oy, Mystique ain't gonna like that."
"Mystique can go suck lemons for all Ah care," Rogue scowled at him, blowing a wet lock of white hair from her face. "Ah'm done with all that dyin'. Oh and St. John…" she added as she began to walk away down the corridor, "yah really need t' take that shower. Yah stink almost as much as your novels do."
-oOo-
The house was quiet - Forge was still tinkering away with God knew what in his makeshift workshop; Irene as usual was sitting in her little study, writing, meditating, doing whatever it was that she did when she was alone. Rogue stopped outside her door in an almost involuntary reflex. It wasn't the first time that she had considered knocking on that door and asking her foster-mother whether her future with Remy had become any clearer, but for some reason she always decided against it. That day was no exception. Perhaps she didn't want to believe that Fate always had the answers; that there were some things best left to coincidence and circumstance. Or perhaps she was merely too afraid of Irene's answer - at any rate she turned away from that little door as she often did, and found herself walking down to the kitchen.
It was a surprise to find Mystique in there, standing over the dining table, perusing several large blueprints laid out in front of her. She looked up when Rogue walked in; Rogue ignored her, went to the half-empty coffee-pot and poured herself a mug-full, pointedly keeping her back on her foster-mother.
"Rogue -"
Mystique's voice was already tellingly low and prickly, and Rogue quickly cut her off.
"Ah don't want t' discuss it Mystique."
"This is a bad idea and I don't like it."
"So what?" Rogue found herself snapping; she was clutching the mug handle so tight she thought it would shatter in her grasp. "Yah never like anythin' Ah do anyway."
"That's not true and you know it. I'm thinking of your safety here, Rogue, and I am merely tired of having that sentiment continually thrown back in my face. I am your mother and every rule I make is made in your best interests and not to hinder or thwart you, as you seem so bent on believing!"
"Well, maybe Ah'm tired of you havin' mah best interests at heart," Rogue commented wearily. She didn't want to argue, not about this… "Mystique," she began, turning round to face her, "momma, for once, please just let me have this one indulgence. Ah like mah skunk stripe. It's a part of who Ah am, and Ah'm tired of stampin' out a part of myself. You don't force Pyro to stop playin' with matches, or Forge to stop makin' those useless trinkets he leaves lyin' round the house -"
"That is totally different -"
"- or Irene from writin' those stupid predictions which may one day make her crazy as well as blind."
There was a silence, during which Rogue knew she'd pushed it too far - Raven's eyes were suddenly flashing coldly, and for a moment Rogue thought she would lash out and hit; but suddenly the moment was gone.
"All right, Rogue," she said very softly, very quietly, though her eyes still glittered dangerously. "Have it your way. Keep it. Just don't come crying to me when it gets you burnt."
She sat down at the table and calmly perused the blueprints again, but her mouth was thin and taut. Rogue sighed. She didn't know how Raven always managed to make her feel guilty. She never meant to use Irene as a weapon against her foster-mother, but somehow it was the only way to get through to Raven, even though Rogue almost always ended up regretting it.
"Look, momma," she began in a placating tone, "surely it can't do any harm anymore, can it? The whole thing with Troy Rifkind died down months ago. They ain't lookin' for me anymore - it's been nearly a year since they stopped. All they care about nowadays is findin' Magneto and stoppin' that rebellion he's s'pposed to be spearheadin'. Ah'm last week's news and so what if Ah want a little bit of mah identity back?"
"You are a fool, Rogue, if you believe they've forgotten about you," Mystique replied stiffly. "But since you are an adult woman, and since you are quite determined in the matter, I can see that any objection on my part will have no effect on you whatsoever. You may please yourself, of course - but there is a reason why this whim of yours was bad timing on your part."
It was only then that Rogue noticed the implication of Mystique's perusal of the blueprints, Forge's obsession with his new toys, and Irene becoming a virtual recluse in her room.
"You're gonna be puttin' me on a mission," she murmured.
Raven raised her eyes to hers, the sly, insect-like expression back on her face.
"Yes. A very important one, Rogue, one that may very well be the culmination of all our years of hard work; not to mention the end of the suffering of many. You are my natural choice for this task, Rogue - any of the others simply will not do. I can afford no mistakes on this mission, Rogue. I have discussed every facet of it in great detail with Irene, and she agrees that it is you that must be chosen to carry it out."
Rogue stood still, silent, her gut churning ominously. The fervour in Mystique's face made it plain to her that she was serious - that she believed that this was the one quest that may make all their years of combined hardship worthwhile. What such a quest entailed Rogue had no clue, except that already it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"What do you want me t' do?" she asked quietly, her tongue dry.
"I'll be holding a meeting tomorrow to discuss it," Raven replied coolly, turning back to her documents. "In the meantime, I suggest you train for the forthcoming assignment. You'll be needing all the skills you possess to complete it. Do not be mistaken, Rogue - people like you and I, we have no identity. We never did. That is why we do what we do - to give birth to ourselves, to seek a way to truly become human. And," her voice softened to a whisper, "for the first time in my life, I believe that search may almost be over."
-oOo-
Rogue slept little that night - it had been many months since the psyches in her head had been so restless, and she spent many hours in bed listening to the screams that only she could hear, screams that were somehow more insistent than they had ever been before. She lay there and stared up into the grey expanse of ceiling that gathered over her, wreathed in the dread certainty that she alone was receptacle for all the many lives and psyches she now held to ransom, a ransom that could never be paid. Only the memories of her ghosts remained, memories that she would allow to consume her, own her, fill her almost to the precipice of madness, until she could no longer tell what was hers and what belonged to the ghosts. Their cries became hers; it was the mantra she cried every night, penance for all the terrible sins she had committed, the ones that would follow her to her grave and into the darkness.
And yet could it be that Mystique was right; that soon their days of seeking would be over?
The next morning she woke up feeling slow and sluggish; her head ached in the unique way that it ached when she had absorbed too many too fast - the hangover of a hundred souls fighting to be free.
It was second nature now to ignore such discomfort.
Mystique was locked up in her office, no doubt contemplating her new strategy. Rogue took her absence as an ominous sign - she dragged her feet through the day, uncharacteristically tense, as if the final, reckoning blow of Fate was looming above her head, sword-sharp and unforgiving. It was as though she would not live out the day. Even Dominic and St. John shared her sense of perturbation. It was less the beginning of something big than the ending of something pitiful and languishing, the feeling that neither she nor them would wake up the same when it was over.
She wondered whether this was the same way Irene felt every day of her life.
Such despair, she felt sure, should surely lead to madness, let alone blindness.
-oOo-
It was late afternoon when Mystique finally emerged from her room and declared to the house: "Meeting. In the operations room. Two hours. Make sure you're all there - I won't tolerate any stragglers."
Rogue slipped into the operations room half an hour earlier than required - she wanted to get this over and done with, she wanted to be the first to enter and the first to leave, for everything to be as painless as possible. She sat in the same rickety chair she always took when she came in here, put her legs up on the same old table nearby and rocked herself with her feet. Her sense of fate, of purpose, had never felt so acute as it had done at that moment; as if all the hours she'd ever lived bled into this one moment.
At last the others filtered in, oddly silent and with an eerie aplomb, as though the meeting deserved the same reverence as something slightly sacred. Dom and St. John sat on the sofa opposite her; Forge in a battered armchair near the door. He looked tired - his eyes were ringed and his face was more lined than she had ever remembered it. Irene was next - an unexpected and portentous addition - leaning a little on her mahogany cane. She took her seat a little behind Rogue and to the left - it was an uncomfortable position from Rogue's point of view, since she had the sensation that blind though the older woman was, she was gazing right through Rogue's back into the very depths of her soul. Rogue merely ignored this, continuing the casual rocking of her chair with her feet, though the feeling unsettled her, increased her sense of foreboding even more.
Mystique, of course, was last, sweeping into the room with a tense stiffness that betrayed her true feelings. Rogue read them instinctively. For the first time Raven was nervous, worried, scared even. It was coming off her in waves, infecting those about her with an agitation none could quite contain. Dominic awkwardly shuffled his feet; Pyro flicked his lighter in an uncontrollable nervous tic. Forge stared at the floor, feigning impassivity. Irene, as far as Rogue could tell, remained still as a mouse.
Rogue merely rocked a little faster as Raven took her seat at the other end of the table. Her eyes were like gimlets, drilling into each and every one of those present, who balked slightly under her gaze. Her expression held the quality of a cobra poised to strike.
"I'm glad to see we've all made it," she said at last - her tone was higher pitched than usual, but it did not waver. "For as you may or may not know, I have something of great importance I wish to discuss." She paused, looking round the room at those assembled, before continuing. "It is my very dear hope that we are about to commence on our last great struggle before we reach that which we have always striven to attain - freedom for mutants, from the government, from the military, from the Sentinels, from the Hounds. It is why we are here, in this room, together, today. It is what the Brotherhood came into being to achieve. And at last," she paused briefly for dramatic effect, "I believe our goal is finally in sight."
She halted; there was not a person in the room that dared to interrupt her. After a moment, she began again.
"Over the past couple of years, you may not have been aware that Destiny and I have been continually conferring on how to draw this struggle to a close. Within this time, her visions of the future have taken a strikingly vivid new dimension, one that seems to suggest that we are coming to an important crossroads on the path of that which we call Fate. Together the two of us have attempted to decipher that which she has witnessed, to prise out that thread of the future that is most desirable to us mutants. It has been no small task, but one, I think, that has led to a modicum of success. We are certain that, should this new and latest endeavour prove successful, our chances of ridding ourselves of the Sentinels and a future of oppression will be guaranteed. Yes - that our struggle will finally be over.
"This assurance that the future in question was the one we had always sought for led me to instigate the mission into the heart of Trask Technologies' mutant database. This was not merely a simple task of destroying Trask's files and disseminating this information to our allies - it was an assignment that had a very specific purpose. Trask's database held knowledge of a certain mutant, whose information I withheld and kept entirely to myself. This mutant, my friends, is the key to the future of this world. And when I say this I do so in strictest sense. This world cannot survive without them."
"Peh," Dominic snorted from the sidelines, his expression scornful. "You mean we've been gearin' up to find some sort of mutant saviour? I thought dreams like that died along with that crackpot Xavier."
"Saviour is but a word, Dominic," Mystique replied testily, "and you may call it what you like. It still doesn't change the fact that Irene has seen what this particular mutant can do with the future - our future. You would do well not to take her lightly."
"So it's a she," Forge mused. "Who?"
"Her name is Rachel Summers," Raven spoke, an odd strain of triumph in her voice. "Yes - the very daughter of Scott Summers and Jean Grey."
"Rachel?" Only slight surprise laced Rogue's voice. "Ain't she a Hound now? One of Ahab's sick mutant pets?"
"That's right," Mystique nodded. "She works for Ahab now, rooting out mutants for him with her telepathic powers. She is a traitor to our kind - but not a willing one. Sources suggest to us that Ahab puts all his Hounds under some sort of brainwashing."
"Sources?" Rogue raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What kinda sources?"
"I'll get to that in a minute," Mystique replied firmly. Was it an element of apprehension Rogue now saw in her foster-mother's eyes? Still, she made no sign that she'd noticed this, as she continued casually rocking her chair back and forth as if nothing could rattle her, not ever again. "Trask's database," Mystique continued, "contained a whole wealth of information on Miss. Summers. It seems she is Ahab's prize pet, the best of all the Hounds that he possesses. She has been the bane of many mutants, mutants like us who have fought to free ourselves from bondage. Luckily, we have escaped her treachery these past few years."
"I heard she was the one who murdered Eileen," Pyro interrupted darkly. "And yet we're meant to be rescuin' her? It doesn't add up, Raven - I say we should kill her."
There was a grunt of assent from Dominic's direction, but Raven turned on them angrily, her eyes blazing yellow fire.
"Have you two not listened to word I've said?" she hissed. "Is it any wonder that I refuse to hand you the undercover ops when all you can do is moan and gripe? Rachel is our future. And despite the fact that she is a traitor, she is an innocent victim of Ahab and his tortures - she has made sacrifices, just as we have had to. Let us not forget that."
"But what makes her so special?" Dom persisted belligerently. "What makes her a freakin' mutant saviour?"
"Her powers," Irene said softly from the corner, the first words she had spoken all evening. "A power that I can only dream of."
"What - telepathy?" Dom said incredulously.
"No," Rogue interjected in an enlightened murmur, shaking her head as she suddenly realised what it all meant. "The ability to chronoskim. Xavier was trying to cultivate it in her before he died… I don't know whether she ever mastered it."
"Chrono-what?!" Dom demanded breathlessly. Rogue looked over at him.
"Chronoskim. It means that she can jump to any point in time she chooses."
St. John's look was one of disbelief. "You mean… she can jump back into the past?"
"And take anyone with her," Rogue nodded.
"You mean, back to before the Sentinels ruled?" he continued, wonder crossing his face. "Back to before Eileen - everyone - died? You mean we could effectively rewrite history?"
"There is that possibility," Mystique broke in keenly. "But Trask's database has informed me that is not the only facet of her power. Time, of course, is far from linear, St. John. It flows in all directions, not merely in one straight line."
"Meaning?" Pyro prompted impatiently.
"Meaning, bird brain," Forge interrupted snidely, "that as well as being able to jump backwards or forwards in time, Miss. Summers also has the ability to jump sideways - effectively into other timelines - parallel universes, if you like."
"Ooooh." Pyro's expression was half-sarcastic, half-nonplussed.
"Meaning she could take anyone she chose to any other timeline she wished," Rogue finished on a breath. "To a world that was free from all of this." She looked up at Mystique. "If only Ah had known… if only Ah had remembered Xavier mentionin' this… Maybe we would've been able to find her sooner… stop this earlier…"
"It doesn't matter," Raven brushed aside the comment with a hand. "Besides, we cannot entirely be sure how Rachel's power works. Could she transport the entire mutant race through time itself? Or only one at a time? And if she were to go back into the past and rearrange it, how would it effect those of us that were left behind?"
"Urgh," Dominic groaned. "Now that's some kinda mind-fuck right there."
"Indeed," Mystique replied wryly. "But these questions are of no moment now. Our priority at present is to recover her, and answer any questions later."
"There is a slight problem," Forge spoke up from his armchair. "And that's the simple fact that Miss. Summers is a Hound - an elite form of mutant killing machine no less. And she's cooped up with hundreds of the nasties. How are we supposed to rescue her? And even if we do, what then? How do we stop her from turning on us?"
"Very good questions," Raven nodded at the Maker approvingly. "And I do have an answer - which brings me to a part of our plan that some of you may not like."
There was a silence at this. Everyone looked at one another, tense, questioning.
"As I mentioned before," Mystique ploughed on, ignoring everyone's trepidation, "I have been informed that the Hounds are kept in line by Ahab - through a less than subtle form of mind control, wherein the brain is reprogrammed to obey the commands of the Hound master - namely Ahab himself. Even if the Hound were to see us, even if they were to recognise us as a friend, they would not be able to subvert the brain's programming, try though they might. But there is one person who knows the key to deprogramming a Hound's mind. Nathaniel Essex, the one they call Sinister." She paused, adding very lightly, though with an undercurrent of distaste. "I have made a deal with him."
There was a sudden uproar in the room.
"What?!" Pyro cried in indignation. "Us - the Brotherhood - teamin' up with scum like him?!"
"A murderer of mutants?!" Dom added. Even Rogue could not contain her outrage.
"Yah went and made a deal with him?!" she exclaimed. "Mystique - both him and his flunkies murdered the Morlocks way before the government went all anti-mutant and decided to send us off into camps! The things he does… Unspeakable things… Experimentin' on mutants, keepin' them alive long enough to watch him rip them apart… Ah've heard stories, seen things no one should ever haveta see…" She trailed off, shuddering involuntarily at the memories of cleaning out one of Essex's abandoned labs back when she had been an X-Man - she hadn't been able to sleep for weeks after.
"I wholeheartedly concur," Raven answered grimly. "But in light of the circumstances, we need his help. We cannot retrieve Rachel Summers without his assistance."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, huh?" Rogue muttered viciously, now rocking her chair furiously with her feet.
"Exactly. But don't worry, darling. We won't be dealing with Sinister directly. This mission will merely require the aid of one of his operatives, someone who will serve his interests. In which case, Rogue, I'd like you to meet our new comrade-in-arms - although I don't believe any introductions are necessary, since you were both once teammates."
She indicated to the doorway, in which a figure had suddenly materialised - for how long it had been there, Rogue was not quite sure. And there he was, just as he always appeared, out of the blue; a beautiful and deadly incubus that haunted all her dreams and nightmares, unchanged through the long months they'd been apart. Remy. His eyes on hers, stealing her breath away, burning her up… And suddenly she realised.
Sinister. He's been working for Sinister. Freein' mutants and takin' them back to him as fuel for his sick experiments. He's just as much a traitor as Rachel - even more so b'cause he's been doin' it willingly…
She paused in her rocking, feeling something ugly and slimy climbing her stomach, into her chest, up into her throat… She averted her eyes quickly, her jaw tense and aching, wanting to vomit, because this wasn't him, it wasn't the man she'd spent those few precious nights with, the man she thought she'd known…
But she hadn't known him, not really. Even back in the X-Men. He'd never said anything about himself, never told her anything about his past. And still she'd been blind enough to trust him. To love him.
At the realisation of who and what he was she'd never felt a greater sense of betrayal. It was the cold thing suddenly crawling through her, breaking her heart, making her want to be physically sick.
She clamped her mouth shut and stared down at the table.
"Gambit here is to be treated as one of us from now on," Raven explained. "And Rogue - you will be working with him for the duration of the assignment. We share the same mission, although it must be stressed that our goals are, of course, very different. Nevertheless, it is time we put aside our petty differences and looked towards the bigger picture." She shifted her eyes towards Gambit - Rogue could still feel his gaze on her back, but she did not turn. "Sinister, as anticipated, likes to hold his cards close to his chest, and so, I would like to point out to our guest, do we. As security we have not informed him of the location of Rachel; he likewise, has not informed us of the process required to deprogram a Hound. This surety means that each party shall receive its spoils fairly. I trust both you and your employer have no objection to this, LeBeau," Raven concluded coolly.
"We have no objections," Gambit returned in a genial manner, though Rogue could still feel the intensity of his gaze and it made her own eyes begin to water. "On de contrary, Raven, it's a good way t' do business. Nice and clean and simple, makin' sure we all get along jes' fine."
He was goading her, she could feel it. Goading her to look at him, goading her to say something, anything. The tension in her was palpable, a tangible thing worming its way out of her and suddenly she was up on her feet, slamming her hand on the table, glaring down at Mystique and shouting: "Raven, this is madness! We can't do it, we can't deal with the likes of Sinister! There must be some other way of finding out how to get t' Rachel - any way! Surely Trask has somethin' in his database -"
"He does not," Raven retorted quietly, but Rogue ignored her.
"Look, we cannot do this! Why, of all people, why Sinister? Why should we trust someone like him - a madman, a murderer? And yet we're willin' t' help him out? Even Xavier wouldn't have stood for it - there are just some things in this world yah can't do! We - we should kill him now and have done with it!"
From the doorway, all trace of mirth had vanished from Gambit's face as he stared, narrow-eyed, at her hostile profile.
"You a killer now, Rogue?" he spoke softly. "I thought X-Men weren't killers."
"Don't talk to me about bein' an X-Man!" she rounded on him suddenly, facing him for the first time since he'd entered, eyes blazing, the ugly thing in her stirring once more. "You were one too, once! Or don't you remember?!" He was so quiet, so beautiful, and she pushed away the sudden flame inside her stomach, pushed it away with all her might… "How long has it been, Remy? How long have you been involved with him?!" He was silent, yet his eyes were unwavering as he looked at her and suddenly she knew. "It was b'fore the X-Men wasn't it," she stated in a whisper and then she was laughing, cold, manic, her head dangerously light. "You were in his pocket all along, since before Ah met yah, since before Xavier took you in… How long would it have been, Remy, before you sold us to him too? You're nothin' but a traitor, a liar and a hypocrite!"
She was trembling, shaking at the horrible words coming out of her mouth, horrible because they were true, because they were the only truth she knew of him. But he merely let out a bitter bark of a laugh and shook his head scornfully.
"You don't know anyt'ing about it, Rogue. I've always been bad, chere, bad to de bone. I ain't no hypocrite. Of all de people in dis room, you de one who oughta know what a hypocrite looks like. Besides," he added with a sneer, "do you really t'ink dis fucked up world differentiates between the devils and angels anymore? D'you t'ink Xavier's trumped up morals figure into dis whole brave new world scenario de statics have created for people like us? Xavier's dead, Rogue. Dead. Get a fuckin' clue."
Rogue opened her mouth to retaliate, but Mystique cut her off before she could speak.
"Enough! If the two of you are going to bicker, I suggest you take it outside!" She looked at Rogue, and said more calmly: "Rogue, the reason why we're working with Sinister is simple. He has information that we don't. That nobody has. And naturally, such information did not come for free."
Rogue shot a glance at Remy standing watchful in the doorway, then at Irene sitting calm and silent in the corner.
"Lemme guess," she returned in a low voice to Mystique, "Sinister wants a share in the booty, right?"
Raven's glance was penetrating.
"A sample of Rachel Summers' DNA."
She knew it.
"An' for what exactly?" she inquired on a breath.
"That is up to Essex," Mystique with a tone of having concluded the matter. "He has not inquired into our reasons for wanting the girl, so naturally I extended him the same courtesy."
"As if he couldn't guess," Rogue retorted flippantly. "Especially with low-life Cajun snakes listenin' in at doors," she added for the benefit of the man standing and watching her so unnervingly from the background.
"If you have an objection to this mission, then I suggest you get over it - now." Though Mystique's voice was level, her eyes were now glittering dangerously. "As I'm sure you know, you, Rogue, are invaluable to the mission in a way no one else can be. Now sit down."
A lump was now stuck firmly in Rogue's throat. She swallowed down the expletives currently forming in her mouth and wordlessly sat down. When everything was calm Raven glanced round the room again. There was a hostile air in the room ever since Gambit had arrived, and Rogue sensed that she was not the only person unhappy to see him here in their inner sanctum. It was almost as if they had been invaded.
"Now, this particular assignment will take place in different phases," Mystique began brusquely. "And whilst we know of Miss. Summers' location, there is the small matter of obtaining access and entry into the Hound pens. Now, the nature of Hound Security is very complex and very rigid. The access codes are constantly changing on a daily basis, and are set randomly. Employees are not privy to the exact pattern the code itself takes. It is merely downloaded onto their keycards via a computer that requires a set PIN code to activate. The downloaded access codes are combined with bio-electronic data provided by the employee himself - in effect, no other person may use the card. However, there is an overriding access code, one that opens all doors at all times irrespective of the unique twenty-four hour access code in use at the time. The beauty of this code is its convenience. It can be both downloaded onto keycard, or entered manually. In our case, I think it is the former we shall have to make use of.
"There are only two people alive who possess the overriding access codes. One of these is Ahab himself. The other is the Director of Hound Security. Naturally, stealing the codes off Ahab would be tantamount to suicide, and cannot be risked. Therefore our target must be the Director of Hound Security, Anton Simmons.
"As it happens, Mr. Simmons is attending a gala at the Ritz tomorrow evening, a gala in honour of Trask's latest Sentinel project. Doubtless you are all aware by now that the Ritz contains state-of-the-art anti-mutant security - an ambient field that dampens the effects of the X-gene and renders all mutant powers useless. Many of the more high-profile guests - including Mr. Simmons himself - will also have been injected with nano-nullifying devices as is standard in government employees, in case of any mutant assassination attempt." She paused, her eyes moving to linger on Rogue's. "It is for this reason that I require you for this phase of the mission, Rogue."
The stone in Rogue's throat had still not gone. All the way through Raven's speech it had grown, expanded, solidified until she could hardly breathe.
"What d'you want me t' do?" she whispered thickly.
"You will attend the gala yourself, as a guest, and locate Simmons - I've already taken the liberty of arranging for your attendance. Gambit will be waiting for you on the outside - with his disconcerting stare, I don't think he could get away with attending without being recognised as a mutant, so this part of the mission is entirely in your hands. Naturally, your absorbing powers will be useless on Simmons, in which case you will have to recover the access codes by other means. Use your subtle charms, Rogue, just as you did with Rifkind. His bodyguards will, I think, be far more rigorous in their duties than Rifkind's were - Simmons is known for his efficiency in that area - but somehow I don't think he'll let them in as far as the bedroom. Steal his keycard and duplicate it using Forge's device. As for Simmons himself, make sure he is not harmed, and that the master card is returned to him intact. We can have no one suspecting our intentions, Rogue. No one."
Rogue nodded slightly, her stomach roiling as she fought once more with the overwhelming urge to retch…
"Pity Simmons ain't such a looker," St. John heckled her mercilessly from the couch. "I heard he gets more kicks out of pencil pushing than he does out of women. Won't be so easy as screwing Rifkind this time, will it Rogue?"
Rogue said nothing. She could feel the heat of Remy's gaze burning up her cheek.
"How will Rogue be able to enter de party without bein' identified as a mutant?" she heard him ask at last; his voice was uncharacteristically flat.
"That has already been taken care of," Raven replied briskly. "I've had Forge updating his contraptions for some time now - he has now been able to create a device that will mask the X-gene from all standard government scanners. Even the Hounds will be unable to sniff out your genetic scent." She looked at Rogue. "The masking is now indefinite, and no longer works only in three-hour bursts. There is no cause to worry. You have as much time as you want to complete this mission." Her gaze returned to Gambit. "You will be fitted with one as well, of course, just in case fringe security picks you up."
"What about us?" Dom pointed out, sounding a little offended that he and Pyro had been ignored so far. "What do we do?"
"Patience is a virtue, Dominic," Raven reminded him testily. "And besides, I was just getting to that. Once Rogue has retrieved the keycard or the access codes, she will call us to give us the all-clear signal. The three of us will join both her and Gambit outside the Hound pens the following day at noon - that's lunchtime for the Hounds, and they will all be confined to their pens. You, Forge and Pyro, will create a diversion, while Rogue, Gambit and I will infiltrate the pens. And then you," her eyes flickered over Gambit, "will perform the process that will free Rachel Summers from the mind control."
"And Rachel will be alone?" Gambit queried.
"Yes," Raven nodded. "Quite alone. Each Hound has their own pen. With the genetic masking we should be able to get in without alerting other Hounds in the area - unless, of course, Summers alerts them herself."
"And if dat happens?"
"If that happens then we'll have to work fast. I'm not prepared to let Rachel go, not under any circumstance. We should have enough time to break her programming and get her out of there while the others create the diversion. Of course, the diversion itself will have to be timed impeccably in order for this to work." She glanced up at Pyro, Avalanche and Forge. "I will go over diversion tactics with the three of you tomorrow, separately." She paused, settled back in her chair, and spread her hands out to them.
"Any questions?"
Pyro stared at Dom who shrugged back and shook his head. Forge was silent, confident as ever. Rogue could not see Gambit, through she could still feel him, looking at her.
"I got a question," he spoke up suddenly. Raven looked mildly surprised, but indicated for him to speak anyway.
"If Rogue gets into trouble, do I get to jump in and rescue her?"
Rogue stiffened. She had the strong desire to lash out at him. After what had happened with Kincaid, with Guess… She didn't want his help, not ever again.
"Are you questioning the competence of one of my best operatives?" Raven asked, eyebrow raised.
"Non. Of course not. But wit' dese kinda operations, you can never be too careful…" There was a hint, just a hint, of the cad once more in his voice. Raven was unmoved.
"Your job is to back one another up," she returned coolly. "If Rogue fails to get the codes, for whatever reason, feel free to jump in and help her out. But I repeat - Simmons is to be left unharmed. We cannot risk another scandal such as the one that happened with Troy Rifkind. And please," she added dryly, "keep the heroics to a minimum. I know you have a penchant for overblown gestures of chivalry, but it will not be tolerated in this operation. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Gambit replied, equally dryly.
"Very well," Mystique finished, rising from her seat. "Then this meeting is concluded. If there are any further questions, I'll be in my office."
There were several murmurings from those gathered as they got up and filed out. Rogue remained seated, her heart still pounding painfully in her throat as she listened to the soft tapping of Irene's cane, and the sound was impassive, detached, as if nothing had happened. That ugly thing flared inside her again, and she stared hard at the table, wanting the ground to consume her, for the world to consume her and leave nothing but ash…
"Rogue?" Raven was looking down on her, her voice somehow softer, more personal, and she looked up. "I want to see you in my office for a further briefing in an hour's time. Make sure you aren't late."
Rogue merely nodded her assent. Any words now seemed to be beyond her. Mystique gave another grim-faced nod and swept out of the room after the others. Gambit, however, remained a moment longer, the warmth of his gaze lingering on her cheek, and she could feel him questing, searching her face, but she would give him no answers, not even with her eyes. Before long he too left.
She sat for what seemed like a long time, staring at the cracked and grimy window through which she could see nothing. Her fingers closed over the pendant at her breast, the one thing she continued to hold onto because it was the only thing she had left, the only tenuous link she had with the past, with hope, with joy, with laughter, with innocence, with love.
With a love that was gentle and pure and all the things she'd ever thought it would once be.
Not this sham of a love, this love that wasn't real and never had been.
She was angry. Angry because she had allowed herself to be betrayed, angry because she had allowed herself to trust him, to fall in-love with him. He was the only joy in her humdrum life, the only thing she lived for. And now she found she had been living a lie. She'd been living a lie based on him. And no one had stopped her.
Irene hadn't stopped her.
Suddenly she was on her feet, she was walking down the corridor, she was walking down the dark stairwell and towards Irene's tiny basement room.
Her one ally, the only friend she'd thought she had in the world - and yet destiny had proved false once more.
-oOo-
She didn't even bother knocking. Instead she threw open the door to find Irene sitting on her bed, mild and innocent - it was if she had been expecting Rogue all along. But this was what Rogue had been anticipating; she slammed the door shut with a resounding bang that could not have described her sense of outrage better.
"You knew!" she cried breathlessly, accusingly to the speechless woman in front of her. "You knew!"
"My child, I know nothing until it happens."
"But you saw! You saw this would happen, you saw Remy, and Sinister…That was why you asked me if Ah trusted him last year! Because you knew!" The words had all burst out of her on an enraged breath and she smashed her fist against the door jamb, tears now springing freely to her eyes. "Do you know how Ah felt, sittin' in that room with him there, listenin' to everythin' Raven had to say?! Ah've never felt so degraded, so humiliated in all mah life!"
"But you love him," Irene pointed out evenly. "And love, as they say, conquers all."
There was the faintest trace of ridicule in Irene's voice as she said these words - or was it disillusion? - Rogue could not tell. But there was something there, something more than the mask of equanimity Irene always more, some sign that real emotion existed in that quietly beating heart. After a moment she wiped the moisture from her eyes with the heels of her hands, muttered: "He's a thief and a traitor and Ah hate him."
"And yet your futures are still intertwined - vague and insubstantial, but there nevertheless," Irene returned, calm and controlled once more. Rogue stared at her, the rebelliousness inside her quelled, replaced with a gnawing tiredness. She couldn't fight anymore. The tide was too strong, she was being dragged down deeper and deeper into this so-called future, this destiny she had no control over… "Is it the mission that bothers you, or him?" Irene inquired softly.
Rogue sank to the floor, stared at the blind woman with a new and chilling uncertainty…
Is she friend or is she foe… …?
She thought a moment.
"Both," she finally answered truthfully. Despite everything Irene's presence always inspired nothing less than complete honesty.
"For a future where there is freedom, I think both are small prices to pay," Irene returned gravely. "Or perhaps it is not that you fear him, but that you fear your feelings for him, because you see no future for them. Shy from this challenge, Rogue, and your fears will come true. There will be no future for the two of you."
Rogue was silent. It never ceased to disconcert her that Irene seemed to penetrate into the very depths of her soul, into the most intimate secrets she'd ever cherished and held close to her heart. Almost instinctively she tucked the little butterfly pendant back inside her sweater.
"Is it true?" she asked quietly. "Have you seen this future Raven's so bent on believin'?"
Still Irene seemed to regard her open palms, a slight smile on her lips.
"A little."
"And Rachel? She's s'pposed to be some sorta saviour?"
Irene's tone was mild, agreeable. "Not simply of this future, my dear, but of many futures. She is needed, Rogue. That she is needed cannot be underestimated. I have seen very many possibilities, and in all the strands of the future I have seen, she is of vital significance." She paused, her smile flickering, her head finally rising to face Rogue's. "And yet still you doubt?"
Rogue said nothing, merely looking away to stare through the dusty window through which she could see nothing.
"Ah don't want t' do this," she murmured at last. "Ah… Ah'm afraid…"
Irene was calm, blue eyes serene, expression unmoved.
"Then touch me," she spoke softly. Rouge turned back to her, sharp-eyed.
"But –"
"See the future you are fighting for."
Rogue looked away again, brow creased, unwilling. It was not merely a sense of rebellion against Mystique's plan… nor more specifically of teaming up with Gambit… It was more than that. It was having to absorb her foster mother, the one woman she would not dare to desecrate in any way, and whose powers she feared more than any other.
But there was also temptation… A possibility that she could see beyond these horrors that now filled her life, that coloured her days in viscous shades of grey. What if there was something more? What if there was a chance, a chance that the world could be set to rights once more and that she could be free to love, to be once more…?
It was not greed or bravery that made her finally get up and cross the room towards Irene, reaching out with a strangely steady hand and her face set. It was a wild hope, a wild hope that maybe she would see herself as someone with something and someone to live for once more…
The lightest of touches, mere fingertips on those old and wizened cheeks; she closed her eyes and pulled…
…And the tsunami crashed over her.
Her whole life, her whole self, the entire world… nothing more than a dream, one that could be unmade or evaporated with a single act or random event… that could be completely derailed by even one word uttered… And then the head rush, the conflagration of so many different futures exploding before her eyes like stars being born, giving life, dying out, one possibility after another blooming into existence only to flicker out no sooner had they begun… madness… Darkness, then a starburst of light… and one end purpose, the end of all things, a blaze of crimson fire and then …ashes… gone…
Rogue sprawled over onto her back as if sucker punched from out of nowhere, her breath coming in short, animal gasps as the visions exploded around her then slowly faded into the mundane hollowness of the real world, unbidden tears flooding over her cheeks.
"Madness!" she rasped, her voice barely contained by the raggedness of her breaths. "Madness, Irene…!" She curled into a ball and wept.
Irene slid off the bed, reached out for her shoulder and found it.
"Yes," she agreed calmly, but there was a different timbre to her voice, a severity Rogue had never heard before. "Madness, Rogue. The battle was long and arduous, and it cost me my sight. I even allowed it to rob the sanity and reason of the one I loved most." Her hand, so small, so wizened, seemed suddenly to possess an inhuman strength, her fingers digging into Rogue's shoulder like talons. "Surely you must see now, Rogue, the dilemma I face daily. You above all people know that there are some of us that possess powers that are a curse rather than a blessing. And my power, Rogue… It is a wicked and pernicious thing, and I succumbed to it, destroying both myself and my beloved in the process. That is why I continue along this path. It is reparation, Rogue, for my sins - to make something good out of the evil I have wrought. Now you see, you and I are not so wholly different as we appear."
Rogue shuddered, dry sobs racking her body, the world still black around her but for those last vestiges of probability that still clung obstinately to her.
"We're not alone," she muttered. "There are others…more… There will always be more… We've been here a thousand times before… Just never like this…"
"Shh, my darling," Irene whispered. "Close your eyes and you will return… you will return, I promise…" Rogue felt her rub her shoulder soothingly and slowly the images began to fade until they became as ephemeral as smoke and disappeared without trace.
"There was somethin'," Rogue murmured what felt like many minutes after, as she stared at the cracks in the floorboards. "At the very end, Ah saw somethin'… No… It was the end… The end of everythin'…"
"And she will be there. At the end," Irene spoke softly.
Rogue looked at her.
"Rachel… …"
Irene nodded. "And that is not all. Rachel Summers is at several moments of vital importance within the Timestream. And one of these moments will bring the end of Sentinel-rule forever. Mutants will be able to live in peace once more. My penance will be done; and yours too."
Rogue stared at the floorboards, the dusty grains of wood leading ever onward.
And for the first time she saw the inescapable path that Destiny had bequeathed to her all along.
-oOo-
She stood outside Mystique's room for a long time, her fist hovering over the door, ready to knock yet not ready enough. Her interview with Irene was still playing vividly in her mind; the power she had stolen still had its claws in her, filling her with a deep sense of foreboding. A huge web of collusion seemed to have woven itself about her, a web in which Raven was no longer at the centre, not even Irene; now there was a sense that there was something entirely greater than herself, than anything; a driving force none of them could repel. Mystique had never been in control.
It was the first time she had ever felt true sympathy for Mystique. That fact alone seemed to give her some measure of strength. Raising her hand she knocked once, then entered.
Raven was sitting at her desk, her chin propped in her hands, staring at some indefinite point in space a good way off to her right. Only her eyes moved as Rogue entered, falling on the younger woman with that same old watchful expression. But there was something else in her foster-mother's eyes, something she couldn't quite hide, but that nevertheless remained obscure…
"Ah. Rogue," Mystique's tone was pleasant yet confidential. "Please, sit down."
Rogue sat. That same faint sense of dread was gnawing at her, only slightly tempered by the rage and indignation she had felt earlier. There was nothing she wanted to say, no questions she could ask without wanting to rave at the unfairness of it all. But even this sense of betrayal she could not hide from Raven, who looked at her as if she knew all she meant to say already.
"I will be blunt with you, Rogue," she began coolly. "But only because I know we are of the same mind, and because it is your right to be entrusted with what I am about to confide in you." She paused and opened her hands, laid them on the desk in front of her. "I do not trust Sinister."
"Then why bargain with him?" Rogue broke out as if a dam had broken in her. "Why associate ourselves with the man at all? He ain't interested in the mutant cause, Mystique. He's just the same as Trask and Ahab and the government - he abuses mutants; even worse, tortures them for his experiments and for his own sick sense of entertainment! We're making a pact with the Devil!"
"In times like these it is sometimes not an option to decide with whom we get to make pacts," Raven answered firmly. "And unfortunately, for this mission we need Sinister's help. He is the only person, Rogue - the only person. And we cannot afford to wait any longer."
"B'cause Irene says so?" Rogue cut in heatedly.
"Because we have been idling away too long, taking only half-hearted stabs at the underbelly of this hateful government, and each time with little result."
Something inside Rogue simmered and burned and she suddenly burst out: "So yah call what I did with Troy Rifkind half-hearted then?! And what happened with Guess, and Kincaid - were they all half-hearted too?!"
Mystique did not even bat an eyelid.
"Those were worthy contributions, Rogue, but not enough. Now is the time to act - there can be no other pause for thought." She paused, looked off into space again. "Irene has shown me what is at stake. It is more than just our lives, more than just mutant lives, or even the lives of all in this world. While Rachel Summers is enslaved, we have no hope. That is why I am willing to make a pact with the so-called Devil. It is for the greater good, Rogue. It is for something better than this." She looked back at her daughter again, her eyes now glinting. "However, I choose to enter this pact with open eyes. Do not think for a moment that I am not aware of the risks involved. Sinister is just as reliant on us as we are on him - for now. When that tenuous balance no longer stands, there is no telling what he may do to us."
Rogue was silent, still feeling mutinous but unable to fault Mystique's logic. After a moment Raven looked at her, her gaze penetrating, and asked very softly: "Do you trust the man, Gambit?"
Rogue stared at the surface of the tabletop, that sense of dread rising in her throat, steady as a hand creeping round her neck, taking the breath out of her… She opened her mouth, yet nothing would come out. Of all the people she had ever trusted since the death of Xavier, he had been the one. But now… Now…
Mystique took her indecision as reluctance.
"I understand the two of you were once teammates - believers in Xavier's great dream." She spoke the latter words with a thinly veiled mockery, with a disdain she could still barely disguise. "Nevertheless, if he is now working for Sinister, he too cannot be trusted. I hope you understand, Rogue, that you must be prepared to kill him, if needs be. I know I can trust you in this. You have proved to me time and again that you do not recoil in the face of death, whether threatened to or inflicted by yourself. Though you and Gambit may once have had an association, a friendship or a bonding, it is in the past. It is time to put such things aside, for the sake of the future we have sought for so long."
Rogue still stared at the table, her eyes stinging.
"Ah understand," she whispered hoarsely. She said it because a part of her hated him, because a part of her wanted him dead…
"Good," said Mystique in a brisk, business-like tone. "Then I believe we have concluded the matter. Unless there are any other questions you wish to ask?"
Rogue shook her head mutely. Her head was now pounding, her heart hammering against the wall of her chest, and her throat was dry, she did not think she could speak even if she wanted to…
"All right," Raven nodded shortly. "You may go. Tomorrow your assignment will commence. Make sure you get adequate rest. I'll speak to you before you leave tomorrow."
Rogue rose and moved to the door with legs that trembled like jelly. But before she could escape, before she could flee this strange and decisive conversation forever, Mystique stopped her.
"Rogue?"
She halted at the door, hand poised over the handle.
"Come back to me alive, my child."
That small statement was perhaps the greatest sentiment of love Raven would ever show her. Nodding once at the pitted, wooden door with her heart in her throat, Rogue pushed on the handle and left.
That night she dyed her white streak brown for what she hoped was the last time.
-oOo-
A/N: Wishing all my readers a merry Christmas and a happy New Year, and all the joys that the festive season brings! - Ludi x