Summary: A single act brings hurt and grief

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men

Rating: T

Author's Note: I know. It's been forever. I deserve to be punished but I had some really bad writer's block. If you guys could drop me some ideas I would appreciate it.

Betrayal

Chapter 18

Present Time: Westchester, New York

"So," came a sultry drawl from out of nowhere. "What's the score between you and the little brown mouse?"

Rigid, Bobby slowly turned to see Polaris reclining against the doorway to the library, a saucy smile upon her lips. "What's it to you?" he snorted, tossing a couple of books into his backpack. He'd been there for exactly two hours prepping for the Pre-SAT. Still, he had had trouble concentrating. He couldn't get Kitty out of his mind; and the fact he'd hurt wasn't working well with brain cells he needed to focus.

"Everything," Polaris said coolly, boldly stepping into the library, using her control of metal to close and mechanically lock the door. She sauntered to him, hips swaying from side to side. Her emerald hair swished over her shoulder and seemed to glow once caught in the gleam of yellow sunlight flowing in through the window. "We're not exactly friends, Bobby," she grinned, sliding her fingers up his chest. "But we are lovers." She hiked onto her toes licking his lips like a cat. "I've never been good with competition."

A wicked smile curling the edge of her lips, she took his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. She sucked furiously on his bottom lip, before thrusting her tongue to explore the warm cavern of his mouth. Bobby shivered, excitement and hot lust, coursing through his body. Instinctively, his arms folded about Polaris' slim waist, pulling her close, his hips grinding into the valley of her pelvis.

"Nah," he sneered, pushing her away after a moment. "That's not gonna work again Lorna. Not this time!"

She grinned, moving to him, draping her long arms on his shoulder. "Always does," she cooed, teasing his face with her nose, pecking his lips in a kiss.

Aggravated, Bobby caught her just as she was about to take his throbbing erection in her hand. He grunted. "I can't do this with you anymore."

Polaris' face darkened. A visage of rage and astonishment mutilated the delicate features of her face. "What do you mean—you can't—Bobby?"

"It's over Lorna," he said casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, making his move to the door. "It's was fun while it lasted…but…I'm in love with Kitty. I gonna try to work things out with her."

Using the metal on his buckle and book bag, she hurled him in a furious rage across the room, smashing him hard against the bookshelf. Books toppled to the ground as she increased the magnetic pressure and with her bracelets and anklets levitated in front of him. "I say when it's over!" she hissed, green eyes flashing.

Bobby squirmed and thrashed, gagging as he struggled for air. Polaris glared at his pathetic attempt to break free of the magnetic hold she had over him.

"Did you think you were gonna to treat me like some little slut you can bang and toss in the trash? I don't think so." She let him dangle ten feet off the ground for a few seconds longer then let him drop hard to floor. He wheezed and shook, sucking in air, crouching into a fetal position.

"Damn," she cried, checking to time on her watch. "I gotta go. Exams start in ten minutes." She looked at him and smirked. "I'll see you tonight…I presume."

--

The Lower Levels: Two Days Later

Bent over a microscope, Hank toiled. Blue eyes locked in a fierce gaze, he studied the cellular reaction to a protein base complex he formulated not too long ago. Through this solution patients who'd undergone organ transplants would suffer far less of a reaction; their bodies would adapt easily and would not treat the donated organ as a foreign body. He was getting close, so very close. A breakthrough was imminent.

For momentary pause, his mind reflected on Carly White, a patient at Northwest General Hospital, a woman on the waiting list for a heart transplant. Outraged anti-mutant activistS prevented him from ministering further care to her. She was bright, sweet, and one of few humans in the world who wasn't afraid of him because he was a mutant.

He immersed the cells in a thick, milky colored solution and monitored the minutes before the cells became unstable and broke down. "Impressive," he said, recording the entire action on his video journal. "Forty minutes. An Improvement. Much longer than last week." He stretched, yawned, and checked his watch. Quarter to twelve. He'd been down here at least four hours. He cleaned up his work station; carefully putting away cells and the solution in the deep freeze.

Hank stretched again.

It was Saturday. The summer was just beginning. Professor Xavier wanted to throw a little barbeque to boost the morale of the mansion. Hell, the old man could manipulate them to do his will and it wouldn't change what was already done. Hearts were wounded. Prides were crushed. He shouldn't expect this 'so-called' party was going to appease everyone. Not to mention his feelings for Ororo. He was disappointed when she denied his invitation to see to her pre-natal care, but then again, their relationship wasn't in great standing. In fact, they were barely speaking...ever since...he returned.

Exiting the laboratory, he walked somberly down the hall to elevator. He took taking a large, agonized breath just before the 'ding' that alerted him to his arrival on the main floor, parted the elevator doors. He stepped off the lift, turned right to the impressively large English style kitchen, which lead to the pool yard.

Music pulsed, shaking the glass inside windows.

Steadying his nerves, Hank twisted the door knob, and stepped out into the warm climate. But the tension he expected to find was not among the group of young individuals running amok about the pool. While the younger students splashed in the water, the older ones gathered by the maple and oak trees, sipping drinks, laughing and talking. Most, if not all, of the adults had remained missing in action. Only Angel lingered; surrounded by a great many young girls who held him on a pedestal as though he were a true angel sent from heaven.

Sighing, Hank took his position by the grill, firing it up.

"Hey, Hank," said Ororo coming up behind and taking him by surprise.

"Ororo," he cried. He glanced around and she let out a soft sigh.

"Don't worry, he's not here. I think he took off on another one of his Saturday morning beer binges." "I'm not worried about him," he said blandly.

"Neither am I," she stepped to his right setting the fruit salad on the table. "I'm glad he's not here. Gives me a chance to breathe."

Hank looked at her closely. "Has he been bothering you?"

"No," she shook her head, raking her fingers through her long white hair, "not really, but he has been persistent."

"Well, don't let the bastard get you don't."

"That BASTARD is standing right here, bub!"

Hank and Ororo turned sharply, mortified to see Logan knocking back a can of Bud Light. "What are you doing here?" Ororo yelled.

Logan shrugged. "It's a free country. And this school is open to all mutants."

"Open to some," Hank muttered as he flipped the burgers onto the piping hot grill, "although it shouldn't be to all."

Livid, Logan stalked to him, claws piercing the thin layer of skin. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Hank rotated quickly, slapping his oven mittens and spatula on the buffet table. "Do I have to spell if for you young man?"

"Stop it both of you! Good Lord! You're behaving like children!" Xavier snapped, wheeling his chair in between the two feral men. "We will not have a repeat of prior week's episode. Now this dispute of yours comes to an end or I'll end it for you." The feuding men glared at each other a second longer before Logan adjourned to the far side of the pool.

--

"You're not joining the festivities?" Xavier asked, motioning his chair into Scott's classroom, after little while. He found his protégé standing in front of a large ceiling high window, one that gave him an absolutely perfect view of the pool and the barbeque taking place at the appointed time.

He had called for this festive arrangement.

It was a way for students who'd remaining under his care to convene and relax, despite what had occurred weeks before the school had adjourned for the summer break. Deep down, he wanted some sense of normality to return to the mansion. After weeks of discords, malice, and scornful glares, he'd had enough of playing the neutral in everyone's lives and decided to press for a resolution. But it was going to tricky. He knew the adults didn't like it when he meddled in their personal affairs, but he had to try.

"Uh, no—I—I've some papers to grade," Scott replied, stunned by the old man's appearance.

Xavier turned an inquisitive eye to the desk set back near a huge black board. The surface was barren except for a pencil holder and stapler. He then observed Scott closely, felt the light thoughts traveling subtly throughout his head without the slightest need to concentrate. Rogue's happy face played in those thoughts and he smiled to himself in understanding.

"Why don't you speak to her?"

Scott spun around sharply, his brow wrinkling into a sneer. "Who? Jean! No. There's no way I'm walking down that milestone again."

"I wasn't referring to Jean."

It took Scott less than a second to realize to whom the Professor was referring. Letting out an annoyed grunt, he returned to his desk, brushing the tips of his fingers over the surface. "No, not you too."

Xavier wheeled his chair into a semi-circle. "I take it I'm not the first to grace you with this subject."

"Professor—"

"Scott," the older man interrupted, "I know you care about Rogue. I know it was never you're intention to break her heart."

"It was someone else's intention," he muttered.

Easing deeply into his chair, Xavier frowned, releasing a sigh that exemplified his sheer disapproval of Jean's behavior. He knew she'd threatened Scott, which led to the breakup of the pair. Jealously had always been a foul virtue of the woman even when she was a student.

"Dating someone younger than you are is not a serious offense."

"It is if she's a student!" Scott yelled.

"Boundaries can be set," Xavier implied, lacing his fingers together. "I have no qualms with you seeing, much less dating Rogue, so long as you wait until she's ready to become more…intimate."

Scott looked at the Professor if he'd grown horns on his head. "Does the word Statutory Rape mean anything to you?"

Xavier pressed, "Contrary to what to you and I might have thought, Rogue is a lot older than we've assumed."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he said, pulling his thoughts away from the mailman who had now delivered a certified letter to a certain southern belle, and was now driving away, "now, if you will excuse Scott but, I better get back to the barbeque before Hank and Logan go at one another's throats—again." Xavier paused at the door, glancing at Scott. "Would you be joining us?"

"No, I don't think so."

--

Hunger ultimately became the victor. The mouth watering aroma of steaks, burgers, hot dogs roasting on the grill wetted Scott's appetite to point he could no longer remain cooped up inside the house. In earnest steps, he marched down the hall, intent on making a plate before he raging hormones and teenage appetites annihilated the buffet table.

"Rogue?" he cocked his head, curious to the lovely brunette sitting on the staircase of the main foyer. A yellow envelope lay discarded on floor. Clenched in her small hands were sheets of papers. Documents of some sort. It was obvious to him she was crying for he could the quivering intake of breath, a cracked voice as she spoke to herself, and hands that flew furiously to mop tears he couldn't see. He went to her, bending down. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," she squeaked, her southern accent thick and strained; the white platinum streaks bouncing against her face as she shook her head.

"Rogue, please," he urged, placing a hand on her knee, "talk to me."

"My parents don't want me anymore." Tears spilled down her face as she crumpled into a mass of anguish. Moved, Scott took her in his arms; overwhelmed at how good it felt to hold her. They remained in each other's arms for a while before she squirm free, jerking her head, and huffing. She sifted through the papers staring at the resentful word and swallowed.

"I wrote to them after you guys rescued me from Magneto. I thought in the weeks after I left they might want to…well care to know I was okay. I—I wasn't totally disappointed when they didn't write back. It hurt but I gave them more time to accept the face I was a mutant. I wrote, even phoned I—I never expected this!"

Scott gathered the papers to himself grateful, despite the situation, he and Rogue were carrying some kind of conversation. He settled next to her and breezed through the letters. He was always a fast reader. His lips tightened as he read brutal words no parent should ever tell their child and then settled on a birth certificate and papers of adoption.

Shock hit him hard.

"You're nineteen?" he gasped.

"I knew I was adopted," she wiped a tear. "I was left on my parent's doorstep. I guess mom and dad weren't too sure how old I was when they found me, so, they must've guessed. But if they had no record of me, how did they get my birth certificate?"

"Someone…must of…gave it to them," Scott replied, shelled shocked. Unable to grasp the meaning of the situation, particularly, how Rogue had leap frog three years in matter of seconds. This must've been what the Professor was stressing in his own allegorical way.

"But who?" Rogue shot to her feet, sniffing. "I—I—got to find the Professor."

"He's down by the pool enjoying the 'festivities'."

Rogue took a breath. "I don't want to go there. I'm not in a celebrating mood." She proceeded to go back to her cottage and curl up under the covers while she poured out heart and wonder why the people who'd love her for a life time had chosen to disown her. So what, she was a mutant! Did it have to eviscerate everything they shared?

"We can get out of here," Scott said, getting to his feet.

She cast him a sore look. "I don't think so."

"Rogue," Scott sighed. "I miss you. And even though I don't deserve it, I would at least like to be your friend…again…please."

"You hurt me terribly Scott."

"I know, but I'd like to explain."

"Why now? Why's it so important that you explain now?"

" 'Cause I can't get you out of my mind."

Rogue folded her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't because I'm no longer under age is it."

"No."

--

Roaring across the black asphalt, a metallic blue Aston Martin quickly placed some much needed distance between a mansion and two mutants desperate for an escape. Winding through the forest terrain, hugging in each curve that coiled and stretched, it wasn't long before Scott set the car onto a highway bound for the heart of New York. But when he missed their exit leading to Manhattan Island, Rogue began to question and wonder where exactly the fearless leader was taking them.

Her suspicion grew when he left the state and entered New Jersey, yet, never leaving the highway; cruising the long strip of road at 120mph. "This is kidnapping you know." She caught cheeky grin on Scott's face. "Why do you keep wearing that thing?"

"You're still wearing your gloves."

"Touché," she saluted with two fingers. She examined her surroundings. Auburn gold clouds hung in the sky as the sun began to set in the distant horizon. She could see the brilliant colors reflect in the ocean as the coast lay to her left. "Where are you taking me?"

"Far away from the madness," he smiled. "Do you mind?"

"No."