MAGNETIC ATTRACTION

Part Six

Rogue awoke in a daze the next morning, confused about where she was or whose room she was exactly in. As her eyes fluttered open, and she saw extreme sunlight cutting through the small bedroom and lighting up the purple walls, she was somewhat baffled. This definitely wasn't her room at the mansion.

She had almost forgotten everything about the past few days as her dreams had taken her back home to the Institute, to a time when she'd never left there, never come to live in this place with the Acolytes. As she sat up, rubbing the sleep crust out of her eyes, she sighed at the aches in pains of protest from spending too much time stretched painting walls and excessively sweeping floors and scrubbing counter tops and tables.

At least it's much nicer waking up in this room than the one in the basement, she thought as she forced herself to get out of bed.

None of the others in the warehouse were out of bed it seemed, the place was eerily silent, so much that the shuffling of her slippers on the cold cement floor seemed painfully loud and more obvious than it ever should have been. There had been no line to wait in just to use the shower, nor did she have to fight over food in the kitchen unlike her experiences back home at the Xavier mansion. The only food left in the kitchen today was a slice of leftover mushroom and onion Pizza from the night before and since her stomach was growling with hunger, she grabbed it, regardless that pizza was not a breakfast food. She opened one of the large metal doors leading outside and glanced around the loading dock. Remy LeBeau's motorcycle was parked off to the side next to Piotr Rasputin's questionable looking white ford transit (which seemed to have been painted white with what looked to be emulsion). A jeep was parked off to the side, she could only assume it belonged to Lance Alvers. It was a slightly different one than the one she remembered him owning, but judging by large and obvious steering wheel lock, he didn't want anyone else driving it. Rogue wondered if he'd put that on just because of Tabitha's habit of taking things without asking.

Crap, I forgot. I'm gonna need a ride to school, she thought unhappily. She considered briefly taking the keys to Piotr's van which she was sure she'd seen in the kitchen. She thought the better of it. He'd need that van today if he and the others were going to continue with fixing the place up, there would probably be many more trips to the home depot. Sighing, she stepped back inside, glancing around as she began the walk to the door leading to the basement.

The warehouse looked barely like itself any more from the inside. Some of the windows had been mended, and sunlight poured through, cutting through the usually large patches of dingy darkness. Rogue chewed her pizza as she opened the basement door and began the descent down the winding stairs and into the near total blackness that was only vaguely lit by the open door above her.

She did knock on her former bedroom door, but he seemed to have not heard her. She knocked louder this time, and when he did not respond, she simply barged in, hoping that he had the decency to at least sleep under the covers. Luckily for her, it was the case.

The room was pitch black, having no natural light, so she reached for the switch and flicked it. Remy, who had been stretched across her former bed, gave a yell of protest.

"What the fuck-?!" Remy demanded in protest.

"Remy, I need a ride to school. I don't have a car."

"Christ, what time is it?" he demanded, rolling over onto his stomach and pulling the pillow over his head to block the light out.

"Seven. It takes nearly thirty minutes to get there, and my class starts at eight."

"Ugh," Remy groaned.

"Ah'm sorry," Rogue sighed, she leaned against the door casually, picking at a loose thread on her left glove while examining his bare back and exceptional tan. "It wasn't something Ah thought through clearly when Ah decided to come here. Ah didn't think Ah'd be able to keep goin' to college...so it never occurred to me Ah'd need some form of transport to get there."

"You know how to ride a motorbike?" Remy asked hopefully with a yawn.

"No...and even if Ah did...Ah don't have a license," Rogue replied.

"Okay, fine," Remy sighed, he moved from beneath the pillow and sat up, sweeping his mussed hair from his face, his eyes puffy, and his face slightly pink on one side where his cheek had been against the pillow. "I'll take you."

Rogue looked him up and down; he was more muscular than she'd originally thought, and even at the odd position he was hunched over as he tried to wake himself up, she could see the ripples of his washboard abs, and the bulge of his pecs. He seemed quite aware she was looking, because he slowly raised his head to look at her.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, he raised an eyebrow and smirked in an almost drunken sort of way way, "or...is it that you just like what you see?"

"Huh?" she suddenly asked, blinking, "Oh...Ah...Ah'm sorry," she shook herself out of her daze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, it's fine, don't be," he stretched a little, just for her benefit it seemed, "you can look all you like if you want, Gambit don't mind."

"Ah think Ah just spaced out," she tried to excuse her actions, "Ah'm still half asleep."

"Join the club," he responded, he rolled his head and massaged the back of his neck, "okay, so...I'll meet you upstairs in like, five minutes."

Rogue waited outside in the loading dock, where Remy's motorcycle was parked. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was bright but the air was cool and crisp. She sat upon the seat, arms folded as she waited for him. It took him much longer than five minutes to arrive, but he eventually did, looking tired and slightly put out. He'd apparently had a much later night than she had.

There was only one helmet, and so he opted to go without so that she could have the benefit of safety. He climbed on the bike and she climbed on behind him, grabbing onto his shoulders after pulling the helmet on.

"Not my shoulders," he said after putting on a pair of sunglasses. He reached behind him and took her arms to guide them around his waist tightly, "If we hit a sharp corner, you'd go flying off like a rag doll holdin' onto me all lightly like that. Don't be afraid to hold on tight, now,"

She laughed at the thought, but she was sure that it wouldn't be funny if it ended up actually happening that she end up being thrown right off the bike.

"By the way," he said after he pulled on his leather gloves, and kicked up the stand, he started the ignition, the bike roared to life and he had to yell to be heard over it, "I don't have a license, either."

The ride to the community college was pleasant despite the excessive noise and the slight awkwardness of having to hold onto Remy's torso. He felt strange to be so close to him like this, her chest pressed against his back as the bike sped through Bayville, the noise probably waking several people up and disturbing several other residents otherwise normally peaceful morning.

As he pulled up to the front of the college on the bike, she felt a sort of smugness when her classmates saw her climbing off of his bike. She expected at least some tongues to be wagging about how she, the lonely goth girl, got off the back of a bike that belonged to a reasonably good looking young man.

Removing the helmet to give it back to him, her eyes fell on Jean Grey getting out of Scott Summers car in the parking lot nearby. Jean and Scott were both looking right at her, expressions somewhat concerned.

"Thanks for the ride," Rogue said as she loosened her backpack to just one shoulder. "Ah'll see later."

"Absolutely," Remy said, "what time you finish, I'll come get you," he gave a yawn before pulling off his sunglasses just long enough to put the helmet on and flick the visor down.

"I should be done around two today," she replied.

"I'll be here," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the helmet. With this, he sped off, the noise of the bike growing quieter and quieter as he left the campus. Rogue spotted Jean and Scott heading for the doors just as she was. They were holding hands, just as they always did in the morning as they walked towards the front doors. Today was just another day that Rogue wished she didn't have to witness this.

"Was that Gambit?" Jean asked as they met her at the doors.

"Ah needed a ride. Ah don't have a car, remember?" Rogue pointed out, "Ah needed to get here somehow."

"I didn't even think you were coming back here," said Scott after a moment, his face grim.

"The Professor agreed to pay for the rest of my tuition until I graduate," Rogue explained.

"That's big of him," said Scott, sounding slightly upset.

"Scott," warned Jean, her green eyes squinting at him.

"So you're still going to go ahead and stay with those misfits?" Scott asked, he held the doors open for Rogue and Jean to step through first.

"Ah already made it clear to you that Ah was," Rogue responded irritably as she stepped through, "Can we just drop it, please?"

"Fine," Scott muttered, following Jean through, still holding onto her hand all the while, "I'll see you when you decide to come to your senses," he replied, and without saying another word, he pecked Jean's cheek, then took off in the direction of his class.

Jean and Rogue stood there in the busy hallway, both awkwardly looking at each other. Jean was clutching a stack of biology books to her chest. "He'll get over it, eventually," she assured.

"Doesn't seem like it," Rogue replied, feeling very out of place in Jean's company. She'd never really been able to see eye to eye with the redhead, and it seemed to have only gotten harder since Scott had begun dating her.

"You can't really blame him," Jean admitted, "He took it very personally, Rogue."

"Ah don't want to argue about this, Jean," Rogue admitted, "Ah left, Ah'm with another team..." she explained, "that's all there is to it. Ah didn't expect him to be cool about it, but Ah didn't think he'd be this uncool about it."

"It's not that you left, Rogue, it's that you didn't even give a real reason why, and you didn't even tell us you were leaving. You left everyone feeling like they'd done something wrong. Like they didn't try hard enough, like they weren't good enough."

Rogue shook her head in dismay, "why is everyone trying to make me feel guilty for leaving?" she demanded.

"We're not trying to make you feel guilty," Jean explained, "don't you get it. We're the ones who feel bad...we don't know what went wrong."

"Nothing went wrong, nothing just happened and changed the way Ah feel. Ah just had to move on. Why can't everyone just accept this it the way it has to be and just deal already."

"Because it's hard to deal with something we don't understand..." Jean offered, her voice soft. Rogue could tell she was trying to be nice, but she didn't really feel complete sincerity behind it. Perhaps there was real sincerity, but her dislike for the girl refused to let her really accept any of it.

"Yeah, well, Ah wouldn't expect the rest of you to really understand," Rogue rolled her eyes slightly, looking away from the girl, "especially not you."

"What's that meant to mean?" Jean raised an eyebrow at her.

"It doesn't matter," Rogue responded, she was too tired to go through it with anyone, especially not with Jean. She wasn't about to let Jean in on the secret of what Magneto intended to do for her either, and she hoped Jean wasn't about to attempt to read her mind to glean the information for herself. "I have to get to class."

"I'll see you around, Rogue," Jean waved lightly.

Rogue wondered if there was any way in future she could avoid that ever happening whatsoever. Somehow...she doubted it.

Remy LeBeau stepped into the Bayville Bean Box coffee shop at quarter past ten in the morning. Pulling off the leather gloves he wore when riding his motorcycle, he made his way to the table in the back where the man known as Wolverine was sitting. The man looked unshaven, and tired, his hair slightly bushy and outgrown, his hairy fists clenched as they locked eyes.

Despite the antagonistic expression the older man gave him, Remy held onto his confidence and sauntered to the table casually, and dropped into the seat opposite, dropping his gloves on the table.

"You're late," said Wolverine, his left hand unclenched, his fingers drummed on the table.

"I've had other shit to do, today, I got here soon as I could," Remy responded, he yelled over to the passing waitress, "can I get a mocha with extra cream?"

"A mocha," repeated Wolverine, his steely eyes squinting in disapproval, "that's...a really girly drink for a guy who drove up here on a 1979 Harley Davidson Shovelhead," he remarked. "You drive a crotch-rocket like that to this place, then order the gayest drink on the menu? Doesn't really do much for your image, gumbo."

"You know your bikes," Remy glanced over his shoulder through the large glass window at his motorcycle parked on the street outside.

"I have a '65 panhead at home. Customized. Thing can go from zero to one-twenty in fifteen seconds. One of a kind."

"I wouldn't mind gettin' my hands on somethin' like that," Remy admitted.

"Yeah, well, keep your greasy mitts off of mine," Wolverine warned, "I know all about you and your sticky fingers and five finger discounts. If that bike goes missin', I'll know if it was you."

"Fair enough," Remy leaned back casually in his seat, one arm propped up on the back, "So...I'm guessin' you didn't call me up just to ask me here so we could talk about bikes."

Wolverine frowned just slightly, he was silent, and Remy felt himself being weighed up visually. He was sure that if looks were able to see right through people then Wolverine would have managed to bore two large holes into his skull with such a stare.

"How you even get my number, anyway?" Remy asked curiously, "the line on my cell phone is secure and unlisted."

"We have our ways," was all Wolverine would divulge.

In other words, Professor X got it from Magneto, Remy thought.

"This is about Rogue, right?" asked Remy, getting tired of the conversation already. He had too much to to do today, and didn't want to be away from the warehouse too long, it'd give the team far too much opportunity to slack off when they should have been working on the tasks he'd assigned.

"And here I was thinking you would play stupid," Wolverine folded his thick arms.

"You didn't call me here just to ask me to talk her out of leavin' us, did you? 'Cause I ain't gonna do that, you know. She's too much of an asset to my team," Remy admitted truthfully.

Wolverine snorted, "your team," he repeated. "Yeah, I heard about Magneto's decision to make you leader of the Acolytes," he stated.

Does Magneto really tell Xavier everythin' goin' on in our Team, wondered Remy.

"Good luck with playin' leader," Wolverine said sarcastically.

"So if you're not here to ask me to talk her out of coming back to you, why did you ask me here?" Remy asked. His mocha arrived promptly, and he picked up the provided spoon and ran it through the drink once before lifting it to his lips to lick the cream from the spoon.

"It's not about talking her out of coming back to the X-Men."

"But it is about talkin' her out of something," realised Remy, he looked at Wolverine over the top of his long cup as he took the first sip. He brushed the cream from his mouth quickly with a napkin, "now what could that be?"

"You know fine well what it is, LeBeau," Wolverine frowned.

"Actually, I don't," said Remy, he gave a slight shrug, "you see...Rogue didn't actually tell me why she came to us, only that she needed a change. I only have the vaguest notion of what reasons she could have for wanting to be with us...whether that notion is right or not, I couldn't say until she tells me herself. She plays her hand close to the chest, you see, no one will see her cards until the chips are down."

"You need me to spell it out for you, is what you're saying," Wolverine uttered.

"If you'd be so kind," Remy replied smugly.

"Fine," Wolverine agreed. "But first, tell me, Gambit; what reasons do you think a girl like Rogue has for wanting to join Magneto?"

"Honestly..." Remy said after a moment, he noticed the waitress, who was standing behind the bar and well out of earshot, was watching him with that interested look in her eyes. He skimmed his finger very lightly and almost suggestively across the cream on his mocha, and licked it from his finger. "I think she's come to have her powers maybe deactivated or taken away somehow."

"Actually, it's the opposite," Wolverine stated, "it's far worse."

Now very interested, Remy leaned forward, squinting a little at the well-built smaller man, "How so?"

"What she wants is for him to accelerate her mutation. You know what that means, right?"

"I've heard stories about how he accelerated the mutation of Sabretooth...and even Cyclops and his brother once. It all went wrong though...the changes weren't altogether that stable from what I gather..."

"Exactly," said Wolverine. "The effects were reversible in that one case, but you and I both know that Magneto doesn't make those sorts of mistakes over and over again. If he accelerates Rogue's powers, and changes her, it's going to be permanent, and we can't let that happen."

"I see," said Remy, feeling slightly alarmed at the thought of an unnatural acceleration of Rogue's – or anyone's for that matter – powers.

"Now..." Wolverine reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, he placed it on the table, "I know you're an underhanded son of a bitch, but...I know you're also something of a friend to her...if you could call it that."

"Maybe," Remy admitted.

"She trusted you enough to follow you to Louisiana once. I figure...if she'd do that, maybe she'd trust you enough to listen to you. If you can prevent her from going through with her plans to accelerate her powers..." Wolverine pushed the envelope towards him, "then this is yours."

Remy picked up the envelope and lifted the flap, he glanced into see a stack of very tightly packed fifty-dollar bills. He flicked through them, counting quickly as accurately as he could. "How much is this? Ten grand?" he asked casually.

"Yes," Wolverine stated, "it's a good wad of compensation if you can stop her from going through with this nonsense."

"This is Xavier's money?"

"Does it matter where it came from?" Wolverine demanded, "all you need to know is that it's sitting here," he reached over and plucked the envelope from Remy's hand, then placed it back in his inside pocket, "and that it's yours if you do what I ask."

"I don't know if I can stop her," Remy sipped his drink again, "she's very strong willed, and she's an adult. I can't make her change her mind about somethin' like this. Especially not somethin' that could make her life better."

"Potentially. Or potentially accelerating her powers could make them more powerful and harder to control."

"Why don't you try to be the one to talk her out of this mess? You're her friend. Surely she'd listen to you," Remy reasoned.

"You don't think I tried? Or that the Professor did?"

"Maybe didn't try hard enough."

"Look are you in on this or not?" Wolverine asked, he slammed his open hand against the table, his own coffee cup rattled against the saucer.

"I'll think 'bout it," Remy responded coolly, "ain't gonna be easy though. The sum might need to go up."

"Ten grand, take it or leave it."

"Make it fifteen and I'll move heaven and hell to get her to give up the notion of accelerating her powers," Remy took another sip from his mocha.

"Eleven."

"Balance is goin' up to sixteen," Remy sing-songed.

"Balance is going to go down to five if you don't cut the bullshit," Wolverine said, about to stand up.

"Okay, okay," Remy leaned forward a little to stop him, "make it twelve and we got a deal."

"Fine," Wolverine stated.

"I want a down payment now," Remy gestured.

"No. You get payment when she gives up chasin' this stupid idea."

"Look, if you want me to gain her trust enough that she'll listen to me, I need a little seed money."

"For?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Wolverine asked, "and how much is a down payment to you?"

Remy thought about this, he chewed the inside of his cheek, calculating, "at least a grand."

"No dice."

"You want this to work or don't you?"

"I'll give you six hundred."

"Eight hundred up front for the work I'll put into try and stop her, with no guarantee that she will. If she doesn't follow my advice, obviously, you'll keep the rest."

"Fine," Wolverine growled, he removed the envelope from his pocket, and began counting out money under the table, he passed it over in a roll rather discretely.

Remy pocketed the roll, "merci," he said with a grin.

"You double-cross me, Gambit, and it'll be the last thing you ever do," Wolverine warned.

Somehow, Remy didn't think Wolverine was the kind of man to make idle threats, "oh, don't worry. I got no plans of double crossin' you, mon ami. I don't want to see the girl do this any more than you do. Believe me, I'll do all I can to gain to stop her from takin' this plunge."

"We'll be keeping an eye on you," said Wolverine as he got up, he tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table to pay for their coffees. "I'll be in touch."

"I bet you will."

End of Part Six