Hello Ish and Rogue! So nice to see you guys are still reading. I def remember you, Ish, from your lovely reviews. I hope the rest have seen that updates are coming and are still enjoying the read!
Btw: I've been browsing the Internet looking at what's been going on in the comicsverse with Gambit/Rogue...and I'm really not loving this Magneto thing. What is the DEAL?
Chapter 8 – The Things We Cannot See
Rogue watched her from her seat at Sebastian Shaw's table. She was tall, an obvious vixen with the contrast of her deep red gown and raven hair, sharp blue eyes, and lithe figure with stunning legs. She was not young, but neither did she look old. A timeless beauty glowed from her skin, making her age all but indiscernible. However, she certainly was no just-blossomed spring flower. And there was something uncanny about her, something completely aberrant yet indistinguishable.
As hard as she tried, Rogue couldn't read the woman, not even when she tapped into the telepathic powers she had stored. In fact, the energies inside her were beginning to behave stranger than usual, reeling with the sort of restlessness that usually came when she was highly distressed and losing her composure.
The Professor had just finished giving his speech, the clap-clap-clap of respectful applause filling the hall. As John Abernale escorted him back to their table, Sebastian Shaw and the woman in red approached Rogue.
"Fräulein Maxine, may I introduce you to my dear friend, Selene."
"Maxine, what a lovely creature you are." A voice like silk and dripping with deception. As the woman in red reached for Rogue's hand, the restless energy within her began to subside. A strange tranquility settled over her mind, a numbness she once tried so hard to achieve. But when they touched, the effect was lost. An unwelcome chill crawled up Rogue's spine.
She snapped out of the peaceful haze and smiled charmingly, "You're too kind. Lovely to meet you Zselene." She felt far away from the present environment, staring at Shaw's friend, who seemed to be staring right back at her with the same intensity. The moment did not go unnoticed by Shaw, who became miffed that two of the most exquisite women he knew were paying no attention to him.
"Alas, the dancing has not yet begun," he said, taking Rogue's hand and urging her out of her seat. "How about a brandy in the library."
"I will not be joining you," Selene said, smiling at Rogue. She pulled Shaw aside and whispered something in his ear. Then, "Enjoy yourselves, Maxine, Sebastian. I guarantee the night will end with much excitement." She blew a kiss and walked away.
"Vhat an interesting voman," Rogue said. Selene was a mutant. She was sure of it, just not what kind, because she sure wasn't a normal one.
Shaw wrapped an arm around her waist, "The library, fräulein?" He plucked a flute of champagne off Kitty's tray as she walked by. Kitty shot Rogue a be-careful-with-that-creep glance before moving away.
Rogue forced a giggle, accepting the glass Shaw handed her, "Vhy of course. I adore books." She followed Shaw out of the ballroom, absent mindedly taking a sip of the champagne.
As they walked through a dark corridor, she began to realize something was wrong. A dizziness overcame her, fighting to knock her to the ground. She faltered in her step and grabbed the wall to steady herself.
Shaw turned, "What could be the matter, Fräulein Maxine?"
Rogue looked at the champagne glass and realized it was drugged. As her fingers lost their feeling, it fell to the floor and shattered. Her eyes fluttered shut and she crumpled unconscious into Shaw's arms.
"Did you think we wouldn't notice?" he said with an arrogant laugh. "You can't fool Selene. No one can." He pressed his comm link, "Security. We have a mutant breach. Handle it—!" His mouth slammed shut as Rogue's fist struck his jaw. Dazed, he stumbled back, only to be dealt another blow to the face.
"And did you think Ah'm a lightweight?" Rogue said, reeling back for another punch.
This time Shaw caught her fist with a grin, "You're not the only one with special powers, Fräulein." She felt her arm weaken and weaken until she was knocked back by a burst of force. "I'll absorb all the energy you throw at me. You cannot win."
Rogue slammed into the wall but caught herself before she fell. Great, he was a mutant afterall, and an annoying one to boot. He was ruining her dress. What could he possibly not absorb? She tapped into the Bobby in her. Ice flew from her fingertips, covering Shaw's feet and crawling up his legs. He howled and tried to break free, to no avail. But the drug he had spiked her with was stronger than she thought. She couldn't find it off completely even with Wolverine's healing ability. The ice faltered and her vision clouded.
Then, like the whisperings of a nightmare, she heard a woman's silken voice in her mind, Rogue... don't fight it. Give in to the peace. Rest... She was going crazy. Her head was a haze of debilitating chemicals and an even more debilitating other presence. Who was it? What did it want?
Shaw broke free of the ice and grabbed her by the hair. Her muddled mind shot electricity from her hands. He laughed uproariously as he absorbed the power. "Foolish girl!" he howled, and with a burst of light, blew her through the window. She tumbled roughly over the stone terrace outside with a rain of shattered glass and bits of broken stone.
Shrieks of surprise errupted from the ballroom, where all guests had perfect vision of the commotion outside. The music came to an abrupt stop. Everyone stared.
Rogue? The Professor, reaching for her, but too far away. Something was blocking him. That other voice.
She rolled onto her side. Everything hurt. The drugs were beginning to wear off finally, but the voice was still there. Rogue, it cooed. I'll show you. Soon, so very soon.
"Get out, get out, get out!" She was losing it. The energy in her body, the psyches, reverting back to uncontrollable personalities. It wasn't supposed to be so hard. She couldn't lose control like this again.
Don't fight it...embrace your glory, Rogue.
Her body was on fire. She couldn't contain it. Cherry bombs tumbled uncontrolled from her hands, exploding haphazardly all around. A searing optic blast shot from her eyes. The floor began to shake and undulate erratically in mini quakes. The celing-to-floor glass wall of the ballroom shattered, the brick of the rooftop structure began crumbling, holes forming in their foundation. Tables and chairs in the dining hall began to glow with cackling blue energy, rattling and shaking as if possessed by witchcraft. She could hear screams of panic and fear from inside through the storm in her head.
Guests screamed and ran for the exits. Word spread:
"A mutant attack!"
"Another mutant attack!"
"How dare they, at this sort of event!"
Creed's security forces marched into the hall, automatic firearms ready.
Shaw leapt onto her, pinning her arms to her sides and absorbing the power spilling from her body. His gleeful laughter filled her mind with more cacophony.
Rogue! The Professor had finally broken free. Concentrate on me, Rogue.
I am here for you. Don't let go. Control your powers.
She tried to remember how.
Rogue, the intruding voice purred. You have to know what to see. Rogue...
Out of sheer anger she summoned the will. Push it down. Push it all down just like the Professor, Jean, Emma, and Braddock had taught her. So many telepaths, so much energy, all to control the volcano that was her body. Concentrate. With the help of the Professor, the fire within her subsided, the woman's voice disappeared. The powers bursting from her abruptly stopped.
"Bub, that ain't how you treat a lady."
Shaw flew off her as Logan barreled into him. They toppled over the terrace, each trying to gain the upper hand. With another burst of absorbed energy, Shaw threw Logan all the way to the opposite wall of the dining hall. Screams erupted from the guests who were still trying to run away.
"Give it your best shot," Shaw guffawed, and followed in pursuit. As Wolverine and Shaw engaged in a brutal fight, Creed's security forces closed in around Rogue. Screams of the party guests desperately trying to escape filled the air.
"Get away from her!" Balls of ice flew into the men, freezing over their weapons and feet, locking them into place where they stood. With another barrage, he knocked them unconscious one-by-one with snowballs to the face. Iceman had apparently not gotten rusty in his reclusion, focused as any X-Man would be. Then he saw the green-haired girl coming toward Kitty. It couldn't be...
Kitty had run to Rogue's side, "Oh my God, are you okay?"
Rogue rubbed her temple and sat up painfully, "Not really."
"Let's get out of h—" Kitty shrieked as the broken metal frame of a window flew into her and pinned her to the floor. Shards of glass still attached dug into her skin.
"You were not invited," Lorna Danes sneered. With a wave of her hand, forks and knives from the dinner tables inside flew into the air, right at Kitty.
"Lorna, stop!" Bobby yelled. Rays of ice blew from his hands, deflecting the cultery aimed to fallay his friend.
Lorna turned at the voice and paused as recognition flashed through her eyes. "Wh-what—Bobby?"
Kitty phased herself through the bar and pushed herself into the air, phasing back to physical form as she tackled Lorna to the ground.
Rogue saw it too late, and she could hardly believe it. A card, sparkling with kinetic charge. Aimed at Kitty and Bobby. They were knocked aside with the blast, stunned and unconscious.
With a groan, Lorna stood and brushed herself off. "You almost hit me!" she barked.
Through the dust Rogue saw him, standing there in a black uniform, same trenchcoat, staring at her with red-on-ebony eyes that smouldered in that way she knew all too well. Her body tightened as a wave of both elation and dread filled her at the same time. In no way of the physical laws of the universe did this make sense. She wanted to think it was another hallucination, just like the terrorist Sayyid's little gem of an experience, but she knew it wasn't. She thought of only one thing to do for the moment.
With a puff of sulfurous smoke, she disappeared, reappearing beside Kitty and Bobby, and porting away with him in another puff. She landed in the foyer of the ballroom, where Storm and the Professor were guiding the last of the guests to the nearest exit.
"Rogue – what's happened?" Ororo took hold of a still-unconscious Kitty. "Where's Logan?"
Rogue draped Bobby over the Professor's lap. "Ah'm goin' back for him."
"Rogue wait," the Professor called, "the intruder in your mind—"
"It was Selene," Rogue said. "Ah know it. Ah gotta go." She was gone the next second with a burst of black smoke.
"Selene," Ororo echoed. "Charles?"
"I don't know, Ororo, but I am deeply worried."
Sebastian Shaw hit the ground and didn't rise again. With an exhausted groan, he finally gave up to the cool oblivion of unconsciousness. The ballroom was completely torn apart, tables broken, china and glass shattered all over the floor.
Breathing hard from the exertion, Wolverine scanned the hall as his body began to heal itself. It didn't have much of a chance—he started feeling a force tingling around the adamantium of his skeleton. "What the..."
Malice entered the ballroom, hand raised toward him. "People rely too much on metal these days," she said, and spread her fingers apart.
The gesture pulled Logan's limbs astride, pinning him mid-air. She then threw him against the wall, back against the floor, and up again – tossing him about like a tennis ball.
Remy stood by her side, watching the ferocity with which the X-Man met pain. Dieu, he had endurance. He knew Logan was Rogue's closest mentor. He couldn't let this crazy green girl kill him. A charge sparked in his hands, and he reached for his cards.
With a burst of smoke Rogue appeared. Electricity shot from her hand, shocking Malice out of concentration. Logan fell back to the floor unconscious. Malice recovered quickly, sending a magnetic blast that threw Rogue off her feet.
Rogue groaned as she pulled herself back up. Her dress was beginning to look like a Tarzan outfit and her whole body hurt and she was exhausted and Remy was here and she was beginning to get officially pissed. Remy was actually here, after two years of absolute nothing, playing for the other team. It made no sense, confused her, awoke an old rage she thought she had outgrown since high school. Her concentration was off and she was getting distracted, distracted enough to be sloppy. As if to prove that point, Malice summoned every bit and scrap of metal in the ballroom soaring toward her. Rogue barely shifted her skin in time to the impenetrable diamonds of Emma Frost's. The shards bounced off of her like pebbles.
Malice's enraged scream echoed throughout the emptied hall. She attacked Rogue with all she had, throwing at her every bit of her magnetic powers. Rogue deflected, moving from one mutant's abilities to another in her offense and defense.
Remy watched in awe. He knew she had access to all the psyches she had ever absorbed, but he had never seen such an act of grace and beauty. At that moment he realized Rogue had unlimited power. Unlimited. And that put her in great danger. Someone had tried to kidnap her, years ago, and they had almost succeeded. Was this what they were after, the powers she could wield so devastatingly?
Malice's scream was knives in his ear, "Don't just stand there!"
While he was lost in thought, they had fought each other back outside. Rogue had Malice pinned down on the balustrade of the terrace with her own magnetism, reaching for her skin. "Let's see what you've got in that twisted head of yours..."
Remy was at her side in a moment, a hand pulling back her outstretched arm and an arm around her neck pinning her to his chest. "Chere, not a good idea—"
He didn't see her foot until it hit him in the face. Dieu, she was faster and more flexible now. He caught himself mid-fall, back-flipping onto his feet. She was on him immediately, all fight, no powers. They sparred back and forth seemingly to no end. The last thing Remy wanted was to hurt her, but he wasn't sure she felt the same way.
Surprisingly strong, she grabbed him without mercy and threw him up onto the roof of the hotel. He landed with a painful thud and groaned. This was starting to become more than he could take. He was just pulling himself up when Rogue landed on him, pinning him down with her legs. He kicked up and rolled them over until he was on top, "Stop – I don' want t'fight you!"
Her chest rose and fell in coarse, exhausted breaths as she stared up at him. "Why are you here?" she rasped. Her voice cracked at the end and she hated herself for it. Strong, she needed to look strong. The only problem was, with him so close to her, after all this time, looking at her with no hate or even the merest frustration from their fight, she could feel the slow fracture of her resolve.
Remy's eyes never left her. He said nothing, had no idea what to say. He had gone over it many times in his mind and could not have predicted meeting like this. And then she asked the question that made him remember the shame of his present obligations.
"Where've you been?"
Her words stung his gut with guilt and frustration, anger toward Essex and Lorna Danes and his haywire mutation. He couldn't tell her that he was working for the shadiest of shady people, that he was back to being a lackey for a villain who was by far worse than Magneto.
"Chere—dere are t'ings... I can't..."
"Is this your idea of working?" Malice landed on the roof from the boost of a magnetic field. Without hestiation or careful aim, she threw a pulse at them.
Rogue moved quickly, grabbing onto Remy and moving them out of the way. "Ah'm not done talking to you," she said. Almost a threat. Her eyes clouded over white and the clouds above them began to boil. The wind picked up, swirling around Rogue and lifting her into the air. Bolts of lightening shot down from the heavens and tapped against the roof like a dance, trying to hit Malice as she blocked and dodged.
"I've had enough of you, bitch," Malice spat. She reached into her gown and pulled out a metal ring. With a flick it unclapsed, then floated into the air by her magnetic lift. Remy recognized too late that it as one of the collars she had revealed in the library. Malice sent the collar sailing through the air.
It clasped around Rogue's throat. The embedded red light came to life with a bright, pulsing glow. The cloudy white in Rogue's eyes subsided, the skies became clear again. She began to fall.
Gambit didn't hesitate a second, reaching into his utility belt for the grapple hook. He threw it into the side of the building, clipped the other end to his belt, and leapt off the roof.
Nobody ever talked about how loud freefall was. Cold air roared through Rogue's ears as she began to plummet. She tore at the collar but it would not release. Desperately calling upon the psyches in her quickly panicking mind, she realized nothing was there. Nothing. Her powers were gone. The epiphany was strange and horrifying. What was she without her mutant abilities? What were any of them?
Steady, familiar arms wrapped around her waist. She twisted around and held him, held on for dear life. To go from a shock reunion, to fighting, to now risking his life to save hers—her mind was a muddled mess of mixed feelings. She couldn't decide what to believe. Remy was good—he was bad—Remy injured Kitty and Bobby—Remy was saving her right now—There was an explanation for all of this—Remy still loved her—
The end of the grappling cord lost all slack, swinging them toward the brick side of the Plaza hotel. Remy deftly charged a card and threw it, blowing a hole in the wall so they tumbled right through and rolled into a messy heap inside a conference room. They lay still, Remy clutching her against him as if they were still falling.
She had hit her head. She could feel the throb of a wound on her right temple, the warm crawl of blood oozing across her skin. She wanted to stay awake, but the exhaustion, the warmth, the comfort of being held – she didn't want to fight it. Even when he called her name, she couldn't respond. Sleep. She just wanted to sleep in his arms again.
She awoke in the Med Bay. A blanket of exhaustion seemed to cover her. Getting up into a sitting position took so much energy she thought she couldn't do it. She looked around and could barely see what was past the edges of her room. Was there something wrong with her eyes?
"Hank?" she called. Silence. A chill crawled up her spine.
She heard footsteps. "Who's there," she demanded, on edge. She didn't feel safe. There was an eerieness to the air that she couldn't figure out.
"Chere, relax."
"Remy?"
He strode in casually with a plate of rice and gravy and a mineral water, "I cooked it myself. Aut'entic Cajun cuisine, chere." He set them on the eating tray beside her bed, as if it were the most normal day and he was doing the most normal thing. "How y'feelin'?"
"Ah'm... all right," she said warily. She drew a breath when he took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. So normal.
"Y'look tired. Maybe McCoy gave you too many o' t'ose drugs, hein?"
"Ah don't know... Remy—"
"Ssh, Rogue. Don't worry so much." He leaned in close, touching their foreheads together. "Y' safe here wit' me."
She felt so tired and it felt so good being so close to him. When he kissed her, she didn't resist. The warmth, the tenderness. She had wanted it for so long. But she had wanted answers too, possibly more than anything else.
She pulled away, "Remy, wait. What happened? How'd we get here?"
"Don' y'remember?"
"Not at all. Something's wrong." She tightened her grip on his hand, suddenly afraid he would disappear, "Don't go."
"Where would I go, chere?" he smiled.
"Ah don't know! Why are ya being so weird?"
"You have to know what to see, Rogue." The words came out of his mouth as if they were his own. She had heard them before, in her mind, in a different voice. Not so normal after all.
She stared at him, the suddenly grave expression, the dark smouldering eyes. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"What we all want, Rogue: more. Don't you see? You have to know what to see."
Selene's words. Who was Selene? What was she?
Rogue felt an acerbic panic rising like bile. She could feel the trembling in her hands, the cold sweat, her tense body. She was afraid and she wasn't sure what of. Remy began to disappear before her, along with the rest of the room. She felt cold and exhausted. Dull, throbbing pain. A sharp ache in her head. Where was the warmth? Where did it go?
When Rogue awoke, she realized she was lying on a table. A chill evening breeze blew through a large hole in the wall, the one Remy had blown up when they swung back into the hotel from freefall. She was covered up with a brown trench coat. Remy. Where had he gone? Did he just leave her there? She touched the throbbing part of her head, felt a makeshift bandage wrapped around the gash. He had thought to take care of her in these small ways. Or maybe someone else had. She was not alone in the room.
"Your friends are searching for you."
An broad-shouldered man sat in one of the chairs around the table. He was bald, a dark mustache with sharp long ends framing his mouth. He looked old but well-preserved with an age that was hardly discernable. Like Selene, Rogue thought. Except there was something frail about him, as if he were on the verge of death. She slid off the table, putting on Remy's trench coat and tying it tight. Where had he gone? Then she realized that goddamn collar was stll around her neck. She was powerless and vulnerable, even though she was irritated and mad enough not to feel like it.
To the mysterious stranger, "Who the hell are you?"
"I mean you no harm, Rogue," he said. His voice sounded weaker the second time, as if it was an effort to speak.
"Then what the hell do ya want?"
"To warn you...of the Cataclysm..." The man began to wheeze. He struggled to breathe, a hand reaching for his heart. His frail body trembled visibly. "I've been...following you..."
Oddly, Rogue felt concern for him. She approached cautiously, knowing all too well how powerless she was. She hoped he hadn't been lying when he said her friends were looking for her. "Uh, you ok?" she asked.
Suddenly the man lunged out of his chair. He threw himself at Rogue, clutching her desperately by the arms. He seemed to weigh absolutely nothing. She could see the depth of his piercing blue eyes. A wisdom lay in him; she almost felt that she could see eons in those windows into his soul.
"Do not allow her," he rasped urgently. "Thousands will perish...she has ...already eradicated us all..." He shoved something into her hand, "Only you, Rogue... only you can stop it... the Cataclysm... she will try to turn you... Do not allow her..."
"But—but what does any of this mean?" she asked. "Who are you?"
"Garbha-hsien...last of the Ex—"
The door to the room suddenly blew open with a loud gust. Storm and Wolverine stood in the doorway. "Rogue—!"
And right before their eyes, the man called Garbha-Hsien began to dissolve. His body and all its features, the elements that composed his form, as if no longer able to hold themselves together, seemed to dehydrate with inhuman rapidity. The bonds holding him together fell apart, bereft of the energy that once united his atoms. In mere seconds he crumbled into infinitesimal grains of dust. Rogue stared at where Garbha-Hsien had stood, stunned to stillness.
"Well," Wolverine said, "that's one way to make an exit."