Chapter Eighty-Four:
The X-jet was definitely the way to travel.
It was comfortable, there was plenty of leg room, and no one had thrown anything at him when he asked if he could get some of those little packages of peanuts.
Remy LeBeau wondered why the hell Magneto had never gotten a jet.
It wasn't like the Master of Magnetism couldn't afford one, nor that they hadn't had the technological capabilities to create a plane as advanced as the one the X-men had at their disposal, so there was really only one logical explanation he could come up with as to why the Acolytes had always had to travel around in those stupid little metal orbs.
Magneto enjoyed making them suffer.
When the charismatic mutant had approached him all those years ago about joining his crusade, Remy had still been searching for his place in the world, and fighting against mutant oppression had sounded exciting and dangerous, a combination that he loved in every aspect of his life.
Including his wife.
In truth, it had been Rogue who first planted the seeds of doubt about Magneto's mission in Remy's head. Until she came along, he hadn't really given the matter much thought, but she'd provoked him into arguments about it on the island, challenged him at every turn and forced him to really stop and think about what he was doing with his life, and whether or not he really believed in Magneto's vision.
The answer had been disappointing on some level.
No, he couldn't throw himself wholeheartedly into the cause, because deep down he didn't really buy all that mutant superiority crap Magneto spouted off. Still, it had been nice... having something to believe in, something worth fighting for.
Over time, he'd realized that he did have something else that was worth fighting for, worth dying for, and her name was Rogue. Or Marie Darkholme, depending on whether or not you were privy to her real name or not.
There had been a spark between them from the moment their eyes first met during battle, and over the three months that spanned from that day until the rescue mission to Area 51, her face had haunted his dreams, so it wasn't all that surprising when he found himself falling, truly and madly, for the fiery and temperamental X-man.
In time, her dreams became his, and loving her had allowed him to come to love her dream, the dream that Charles Xavier had instilled in her during her youth. A dream of prosperity and peace, of a world where mutants and humans could coexist as friends and neighbors instead of enemies.
For the first time in his life, Remy LeBeau had truly found something to believe in.
It looked like she was going to make an X-man out of him after all.
After all, here he was flying on their stealth jet to a secret military instilation in order to break in and rescue a comatose mutant from Trask's captivity.
Den again, he conceded to himself. Dat's fo' Marie's sake, not de X-men's.
When Tessa had found the location of Carol Danvers on a disk she lifted from the soldiers who she and Rogue disposed of back home in New Orleans when they were tormenting a mutant kid, Remy had shrugged it off since there was nothing they could do about it. It was too risky for them to go after her on their own, and they hadn't had any way to revive her even if they had been able to rescue her.
Now, though, it seemed that Charles Xavier was confident he could awaken Carol with his sizeable telepathic abilities, so they were off to some remote military hospital in northern Michigan to retrieve her comatose body and take it back to the Westchester Academy, where the Professor was waiting.
Considering the history between Rogue and Carol, Remy would have agreed to go even if his wife hadn't felt up to it. He'd gotten to know Carol Danvers fairly well during the time that the other woman spent inside Rogue's head, and while most of the time she'd been giving Rogue a headache, she had given them both an immeasurable gift by allowing Tessa to place her back into her own body.
She'd given Rogue freedom and privacy, while subjecting herself to years of solitude inside the darkness of her empty, sleeping mind, the least they could do was rescue her.
Sparing a glance out the oval-shaped window, Remy wondered just how much farther the military hospital was. He knew they were close, Mystique had given them an ETA of twenty minutes about fifteen ago, but all he could see was the dark night sky and thick winter clouds.
Absently shuffling his playing cards, he glanced around the plane at the other mutants accompanying him on this little mission, instinctively analyzing their powers for usefulness during the coming operation. Shadowcat was always good to have around, her intangibility was invaluable, and Nightcrawler's powers would come in handy during the extraction.
Wolverine and Mystique were piloting the X-jet, finally working together in silence after nearly ten minutes of bickering at the start of the flight. There was no question as to why they were here, they were two of the best fighters Xavier had at his disposal, and they weren't about to let their daughter out of their sight if they could help it.
Naturally, Lucas and Tessa had both come along, but their presence on this mission had never even been in question. Where Remy and Rogue went, they went, end of story, and there was no one else in the world that Remy trusted more to watch his back, or to watch over his pregnant wife.
An' speakin' o' de chere, Remy thought with a smile, looking across the aisle at his wife, who was gazing out her window at the night sky, her delicate chin resting on a gloved fist. She was dressed in a black uniform she'd borrowed from Jean, with a black flight jacket on over it, the sleeves rolled up to give her a rough-and-tumble look that he found more than appealing.
"We're about to land," Logan announced gruffly from the cockpit. "If yer not buckled in yet, do it now."
There was something in his tone that made Remy wonder if the man knew he had deliberately ignored his seat restraints until now, but he went right ahead and secured himself in properly, knowing it was always a good idea to be prepared whenever Mystique was piloting. He'd heard a few horror stories about her driving from Sabertooth in the past, and he wasn't going to take any chances.
Logan must have had some experience with her driving, too, because he suddenly remarked, "Maybe I should land this thing," under his breath.
"Shut up, Wolverine," Mystique snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of doing this, as you well know. I-"
"Um, Muzzer?" Kurt cleared his throat. "Perhaps zis can wait until after we have touched down, ja?"
That shut both Mystique and Logan up, to Remy's relief, and Kurt settled back in his seat with a toothy grin, clearly pleased with himself. Kitty giggled, flashing him a bright smile, and said something that Remy didn't catch, which elicited a growl of annoyance from Logan.
The descent to the ground went smoothly, and Remy had to admit he was impressed with the way the X-jet maneuvered. With engines that quiet, they might have very well been able to pull this mission off without the cloaking shields, but it was better safe than sorry, so they'd kept them on the entire flight.
Only a slight rocking signaled that they had touched down, and Remy looked out the window, spotting the military hospital in the distance. They had landed the jet far enough away from the compound that they wouldn't be seen, but close enough that Kurt could teleport them back if anything went wrong.
His gaze sweeping across the military instillation, Remy pressed his lips together in a thin line, analyzing what defenses he could spot and comparing them with the Intel Tessa had procured from the stolen disk. There were four guard towers, one on each side, all sporting alert sharpshooters, but even the youngest thief in the Guild knew how to get past guards.
An' wit' a team like dis, we could walk right up t' dem an' still get inside, he thought wryly.
Tessa snorted, probably picking up on his thoughts.
Remy turned his head to offer her a smug grin, but his smile turned into concern as his eyes caught sight of his wife.
Across the aisle, Rogue was sitting straight in her seat, staring at the back of the seat in front of her, which was being occupied by none other than her younger brother Kurt, but what really caught his attention was her hands.
She was gripping the armrests so tightly that her knuckles were white.
"Marie?" he asked lowly, trying not to draw too much attention. "Y' okay over dere?"
If she heard him at all, she didn't show it. Her breathing was coming in quick, sharp little gasps, and when he peered closer, he was startled to realize that her pupils were practically dilating.
Throwing aside his crash-webbing, Remy hurried over to Rogue's side, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands into his. "Marie, chere, are y' okay?" When she didn't so much as blink, he squeezed her hands gently. "Dire quelque chose, beb, s'il vous plaît."
By now, Kitty and Kurt were both turned around in their seats, worried expressions on their faces, and Tessa had likewise risen from her chair, crossing the aisle to eye Rogue appraisingly, while Lucas watched from his seat with a grim frown.
"She appears to be in distress," Tessa observed seriously. "It looks like a panic attack."
"A panic attack?" Remy echoed incredulously, looking up at her in disbelief.
This was the woman who had plowed headfirst into an army of Sentinels, who took swan-dives off of skyscrapers, only pulling up just feet from the hard concrete below. Rogue was the kind of woman who laughed in the face of danger, even when others were out of their minds with terror.
And she was having a panic attack?
"What's causin' it?" he demanded, hearing an edge of alarm to his own voice. "What's wrong wit' her?"
Distantly, he was aware of Kurt jabbering something in German, of commotion in the cockpit, but he tuned it out, focusing solely on his wife's trembling form. He really didn't have any idea what was wrong with her, she'd been so eager for this mission, the two hours she'd spent chatting with Carol over their link after breakfast only attested to how excited she was about finally being able to do something for the other woman.
So why was she suddenly falling apart?
"Outta my way, Gumbo."
Looking up at Logan as his father-in-law stalked over to them from the cockpit, Remy complied at once, scooting to the side of Rogue's seat so that Logan could squat down in front of her, but he didn't let go of her hands, only holding them even tighter.
"It's okay, darlin'," Logan said softly, placing his hands on Rogue's shoulders. "There's nothin' to be afraid o' here, I promise. Yer gonna be just fine, Stripes. This isn't Area 51."
With those words, realization sunk in, and Remy could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Of course it was about Area 51, what else could cause such a frightened reaction from Rogue? It had been over four years since he and the Acolytes had freed her from Trask's captivity, but he knew for a fact that she had not even come close to forgetting the horrors she'd experienced at that madman's hands.
Then again, maybe it wasn't so surprising that Logan was the only one to know instinctively what had her so shaken up, because he was the only other person present who had also been a prisoner in Area 51.
Not for the first time, Remy wondered what kind of torture the feral mutant had undergone there.
Rogue whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, and Logan touched a large, calloused hand to her cheek. "It's not him, darlin', Trask isn't here. He can't hurt you anymore."
"So much pain... death... torture..." Rogue murmured frantically, her breath coming in short, frantic bursts. "Didn' mean t' kill her, Logan... tried t' get free... didn' want it... needles... an' the dark... so cold..."
"Shhh," Logan soothed her gently, stroking her hair, and Remy saw him swallow hard, his eyes gleaming with an undefinable emotion. Anger towards the people that had done this to his little girl, guilt that he had not been able to protect her, sadness and rage, all blurred together like a storm. "Yer safe now, kid, remember? Gambit rescued you, he made the darkness go away, right?"
Remy gaped at the man in surprise, but Logan ignored him.
"Yer safe," he repeated. "Gambit's here an' yer mother's here an' Kurt's here, they won't let anythin' happen to you, Rogue. I won't let anythin' happen to you. We're just goin' in fer Carol, then we're comin' right back out again. It's not like Area 51, we're not goin' to be trapped there, I promise."
Rogue's eyes fluttered open, and she looked right at her father, desperation shining clearly in her eyes.
"Don' leave me behind," she begged softly, in a fragile whisper that broke Remy's heart, revealing the scars that had not yet healed from the months she spent in Trask's captivity all those years ago. "Don' let 'em leave wit'out me."
"No one's gonna leave anyone," Logan promised with a growl. "You hear me?"
Swallowing, Rogue nodded, her emerald eyes shimmering with tears.
"Now I know this ain't gonna be easy, kid," Logan told her sympathetically. "I ain't exactly thrilled to be goin' in there, either, but I've done it before an' I'll do it again. You know why?"
"Why?" she asked hoarsely.
"Because sometimes you just gotta face yer fears," Logan answered evenly. "An' if you do, then you come out stronger fer it. You know that, I know you do, because you an' me, we're survivors, Rogue. Always have been, always will be."
Sitting back on his heels, Remy gently caressed Rogue's knuckles with his thumb, willing some of his strength into her.
"You're not the only fighter in this family, you know," Mystique called from the doorway of the cockpit, her words sarcastic, but Remy saw the concern in her yellow eyes as she watched her daughter appraisingly.
"An' yer mother's not bad at stayin' alive, either," Logan conceded with a grunt.
Despite her tears, Rogue smiled faintly at that, a noise akin to a muffled chuckle escaping her lips. "Guess Ah'm lucky t' have the genetics Ah do then, huh?"
"Damn right," Logan agreed with a feral smirk, rising to his feet. "Yer gonna be fine, Stripes. Just keep yer head together."
"Ah'll try," Rogue promised weakly.
"You can stay on the jet, if you don't feel up to this," Mystique told her softly.
"No," Rogue refused with a deep, shuddering breath, and shook her head. "Ah promised Carol. Besides, this is somethin' Ah gotta do. Logan's right, it's time t' face mah fears."
"Alright then," Mystique said with a curt nod, turning back to unload some equiptment, but not before Remy saw a flicker of grim pride in the shapeshifter's eyes. "You all know the drill, we split up into two teams. Rogue, you and Tessa take Lucas and Remy to retrieve Carol. Once you find her, alert Kurt and he'll teleport to the room to get you. Logan, Shadowcat and I will find and secure an exit."
"And if you can't find a suitable one?" Lucas asked, not challenging or skeptical, but genuinely curious as to what steps they would take if the situation arose.
Mystique and Logan exchanged a feral grin that made Remy's skin crawl.
"Then we'll just have to make one," Mystique answered silkily. With that, she slapped her hand across the touchpad on the wall, opening the hatch and lowering the ramp.
As Logan led the way out, Remy turned to Rogue and raised his eyebrows.
"Why don' that make Remy feel any better?" he asked wryly, and to his delight she grinned back at him.
"Cheer up, mon amour," she drawled, running her fingers across his cheek as she passed. "If things get messy, ya can jus' start blowin' things up, like always."
Outside, it was pitch black, and Remy was startled when he felt Kurt's three-fingered hand touch his shoulder, since the furry mutant blended in perfect in the dark.
"Ve few, vew happy few," he chuckled, and the clack of his fanged teeth echoed around them.
"We band o' brothers," Rogue concluded, exchanging a grin with her brother.
Logan rolled his eyes with a grunt. "An' here I thought I wouldn't have t' listen to Shakespeare as long as McCoy wasn't on this mission."
"At least they learned something useful from his classes," Mystique retorted scathingly, as the hatch hissed shut behind them. "What did you teach them other than how to identify people in need of anger management courses?"
"Shut it, Raven," Logan growled, stalking off towards the base.
"Now, Mama," Rogue laughed. "That's jus' not fair. We learned other stuff from him, too."
"Ja," Kurt agreed with a smirk. "Like what level of Danger Room session it takes to get Scott to lose ze stick up his ass."
Translations:
Dire quelque chose, s'il vous plaît- Say something, please
A/N: Sorry this chapter is kind of short, guys, I'm pressed for time. Hope you enjoyed it anyway, look for the next one later this weekend.