Chapter Ninety:
The engines died out with a low hum, and the lights in the cockpit dimmed.
Unbuckling her restraints, Rogue climbed out of the pilot's chair, feeling more than a little pleased with herself.
An' t' think that Logan an' Scott were worried, she snorted, making her way towards the hatch and slapping her hand against the touchpad to lower the ramp. Ah bet Ah fly this thing better than they do.
The thought brought a grin to her lips as the ramp lowered itself with a hiss, revealing the dimly lit hangar used for storing the X-jet, the Blackbird and the other various vehicles that the Professor had accumulated for his X-men to use.
Striding down the ramp, Rogue's seventh sense tingled about halfway down, alerting her to another presence in the hangar, and she glanced towards the door to find a very somber looking Scott Summers leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his gaze hidden by his rose-quartz glasses.
For a moment, she felt like she was back at the Institute and in trouble for sneaking out past curfew.
Then she remembered that she was an adult, a woman married and expecting her first child, and that Scott no longer had any authority over her anymore.
Still, she imagined with that grim frown, he kept the students here on their toes.
"Hey, Cyke," she called, lifting a hand to waggle her fingers in her greeting, and enjoying the way he bristled at the much-hated nickname. "They send ya down t' be mah welcomin' committee?"
"Something like that," Scott replied evenly.
As soon as her boots touched the hangar floor, the ramp began to lift of its own accord, sealing the jet up tight.
"How were things at the Danvers?" Scott asked as she drew closer.
"Nice," Rogue assured him with a broad smile. "Carol's parents are real nice folks. Her dad told me a whole bunch o' stories 'bout his li'l girl growin' up, an' her mother cooked enough t' feed me, the li'l tyke in here an' a whole platoon o' yo' students t' boot."
"Sounds like you had a good time, then."
"Ah did."
The Danvers had been nothing short of some of the kindest, most welcoming people she had ever met, and they had embraced her like a long-lost friend when Carol introduced her as the one who had rescued her. There had been tears and sobs when they first opened the door to find their daughter standing there, alive and whole, but after that there had been nothing but smiles and laughter.
It was good to hear them laugh, because Rogue had a feeling that they hadn't done it much in the past few years, not since Carol's disappearance.
Their grief, still fresh and raw, had not dwindled in all these years until the moment their little girl came back to them, but traces of that pain had lingered during the hours that she spent in their home. It was in the way they kept looking at Carol every few seconds, as if to make sure that she was really there, and then laughing in delight when she was.
It had amazed Rogue how lively the three Danvers had become once they were reunited, smiling and talking at a mile per minute, finding ever excuse to touch one another, whether it was reaching across the table to hold hands or running their fingers through Carol's blond hair in the way that Rogue knew, from memories she had absorbed from the other woman, that Mrs. Danvers had done when Carol was little.
Every gesture, every smile and hug, attested to just how painful these past few years had been for them.
And for the first time, Rogue fully understood what it must have done to Mystique and Logan.
Four years of believing your child was dead, four years of never knowing what had happened and your mind conjuring up one horrifying possibility after another.
She couldn't imagine going through that.
"Something wrong?" Scott asked, and she glanced up to find him eyeing her with concern from behind his ruby glasses.
"No," she replied, shaking her head ruefully. "Jus' got caught up in mah thoughts, that's all."
"Ah." Scott nodded. "In that case, I was wondering if you might like to take a walk?" he inquired evenly.
Too evenly.
Recognizing his 'leader' tone, even after all these years, Rogue narrowed her eyes. "Am Ah 'bout t' be lectured?" she demanded.
"Yes."
Startled by his frank, and somewhat wry, answer, Rogue blinked. "Well," she said after a moment. "All right then."
"We'll take the staff tunnels," Scott said, leading the way to the hidden door on the far side of the hangar and placing his palm flat against the steel surface. A thing line of blue light moved across the back of the door, illuminating his hand in an eerie glow for just a moment, and then the door slid open without so much as a hiss.
Wordlessly, he stepped inside and Rogue followed.
The staff tunnels weren't really for the exclusive use of the staff, more like for the X-men and the occasional students permitted down there, but the term 'staff tunnels' had stuck somehow, although Bobby hadn't been able to give her a reason for that during the tour he gave her and her companions from New Orleans.
Buried deep beneath the mansion proper and extending for hundreds of yards under the estate, the underground complex reminded Rogue of the setup at the Institute back in Bayville, only the revolutionary technology the tunnels were outfitted with made the wonders that had awed her upon first joining the X-men all those years ago look like little more than outdated prototypes.
Scott led the way through the dimly lit circular corridors that wound their way underneath the mansion, the cool hue of the lighting giving the halls a strangely sci-fi vibe, one that she was certain Emil would have appreciated.
God, Ah miss him, Rogue thought with a wistful sigh. An' Jean-Luc an' Henri an' Mercy an' li'l Jacques an' all the rest o' the famille.
It was wonderful to be here, with Mystique and Logan and Kurt and the others, to be surrounded by the people who she'd believed lost to her forever, but part of her ached for New Orleans and the Thieves Guild, for the life she had been forced to leave behind the night of the Sentinel attack.
But would she ache for the Westchester Academy and the X-men just as fiercely if she were to return to New Orleans?
She didn't know, and a part of her didn't particularly want to find out.
"So ya were sayin' somethin' 'bout a lecture, sugah?" she asked Scott, pointedly steering away from such thoughts, lest they get the best of her.
"Yes," Scott replied evenly, without bothering to glance at her as they walked. "I was."
"Lemme guess," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. "This is 'bout what happened durin' the fight wit' Magneto, ain't it?"
"Your actions were foolhardy and reckless, and you know it," her former leader informed her grimly, with chastising disapproval. "You endangered your own life, and the life of your unborn child, I might add, needlessly and senselessly."
"Needlessly?" Rogue echoed incredulously, and she could feel the fire lighting in her eyes as she came to a dead halt, forcing Scott to stop as well. "Senselessly? So yo' sayin' Ah should have let that pilot die, is that it?"
"No, I-"
"Because that better not be what yo' sayin'," Rogue snapped, brandishing a clenched fist in warning. "That pilot was a kid, a boy, younger than ya are, Cyke, an' if yo' tellin' me Ah should have let him get blasted t' pieces by that missile instead o' doin' whatever Ah had t' do t' save his life, then yo' outta yo' damn mind!"
"That's not what I'm saying," Scott said sharply, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Man, I'd forgotten how frustrating it is to try and yell at you."
Despite herself, Rogue smiled faintly. "It's an acquired talent," she drawled.
"Cute," Scott muttered, giving her an irritated look. "My point is, Rogue, that you have to be more careful. You can't just do these crazy stunts, especially in your condition."
"Fo' yo' information, Hank said 'mah condition' wasn' a factor," Rogue retorted. "Mah invulnerability protects this baby jus' like it does me. Anythin' that could really do him any damage is likely t' kill me anyway."
"That's not exactly comforting," Scott pointed out dryly.
"Not mah problem," Rogue said with a shrug. "Ah'm a big gal now, Scott, Ah can take care o' mahself. Ah don' need anyone t' protect me anymore, an' that goes fo' all o' ya'll, Remy included. Ah survived Area 51, Ah survived Sentinel attacks an' brawls wit' Stryker's toy soldiers, all on mah own, wit'out any o' ya'll there t' help."
"Only this time you did have us there to help," Scott reprimanded somberly. "And if you'd stopped to think, you would have realized you had other options besides hurling yourself in between a missile and a fighter jet."
"Like what?"
"Like absorbing Magneto and using his powers to stop the missile," Scott replied.
"There wasn' time," Rogue insisted, shaking her head. "If there had been, Ah coulda gotten Tessa t' boost mah powers an' jus' accessed the imprint of Magneto's powers stored inside o' me, but there was hardly enough time t' get ahead o' the missile as it was."
"It was still too dangerous."
"An' what would ya have done, Scott?" she demanded. "If it had been yo' call t' make, what would ya have done differently?"
"That's not the point," Scott replied with a scowl.
"Ah think that's entirely the point, sugah," Rogue corrected, then softened her tone as she saw the troubled expression on his face. "Yo' right, what Ah did was dangerous an' reckless an' completely insane, but every one o' ya'll would have made the same call Ah did. Because we're X-men, Scott, this is what we do, who we are."
For a long moment, Scott stared at her intently, his eyes hidden behind his ruby-quartz glasses, and then he shook his head, chuckling lowly under his breath. "You've grown into quite the politician there, Rogue," he observed quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And quite the woman, as well."
"Yo' not bad yo'self, Cyke," Rogue said with a grin.
"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Scott sighed, but he couldn't hide a touch of amusement.
"Mah estimation," she mused evenly. "Probably 'bout a million, at least."
"I suppose you could have a worse name for me than 'Cyke'."
"Ya got that right, sugah," Rogue snickered. "Ya should hear some o' the things that Bobby an' the others used t' call ya behind yo' back whenever ya called an extra Danger Room session."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Scott grumbled.
"Speakin' o' Danger Rooms," Rogue said, giving him her brightest smile. "When Ah got mah official X-tour, there were students in a session, so Ah didn' get t' take a look at the new one. How 'bout ya give me a li'l peek?"
"Like father, like daughter," Scott muttered.
"Ya know it," Rogue agreed, looping her arm with his. "Lead on, Fearless Leader."
Rolling his eyes, Scott complied, and they continued down the circular corridors beneath the mansion, passing locker rooms and a display case holding uniforms that appeared to be made out of leather, but she knew were actually a highly advanced form of kevlar, able to withstand a direct shot from even a sniper weapon.
"Black," she commented wryly. "Kitty must have had a fit."
"They're more practical for night operations," Scott explained, leading the way around a corner and down the large stretch of the main corridor that Rogue had seen on her tour.
Down one end was the med-lab, a surgery ward and several small science labs, each used for different types of experiments that Rogue didn't even pretend to understand, much less have any interest in. Tessa, however, had clearly been intrigued during the tour, and Hank had later engaged her in a long, boring discussion about physics and mutant genetics.
In the other direction, a sauna and a whirlpool lined the Olympic-sized swimming pool, and beside that was the enormous gym that put the one the Thieves Guild had to shame. Separate locker rooms for men and women were on either side of the gymnasium, which Bobby claimed the students liked to use for indoor basketball when it rained.
Mutant basketball, no doubt, a game which Rogue remembered from her days at the Institute as a great way of venting bent-up frustration.
And one that always left a lot of damage in the wake.
"Hmm," Scott said as they approached the looming, reinforced doors of the Danger Room, a red light blinking over the doors. "Looks like someone's in there, but we can go up to the control room and take a look."
"Ya sure?" Rogue asked. "Ah can always come back later."
"It's fine," Scott assured her, leading the way towards a small turbo-lift down the hall. "It's probably Logan in there, anyway, so at least you'll get to see the upgraded technology in action."
"True," she agreed, following him into the lift once the doors slid open.
Scott punched in the button marked for the control room, and the lift began to rise the moment the doors closed. It was a quick ascent, and a few seconds later they were stepping out into the control room, which, Rogue was pleased to note, looked almost exactly like the old one.
"Level Nine," Scott commented, eyeing the console display. "Definitely Logan."
Sure enough, when she moved over to the glass viewing screen and looked down into the training facility, it was the familiar figure of her father combating the Danger Room's weaponry and simulations. Rogue watched him for a few moments, hands pressed against the glass as her eyes tracked his agile, inhuman movements through the room below, always impressed with what the man known as Wolverine was capable of.
And it brought back memories of her days at the Institute that made her smile, even the ones of all those endless hours of torture during Logan's Danger Room sessions.
I miss it, she admitted, in the privacy of her own mind.
Not just the Danger Room or the adrenaline rush that came with the job, but the purpose behind it, and the sense of camaraderie, of family, that bound the X-men together. There had been friendship among the Brotherhood, maybe even a degree of familial bonds, but the purpose had been missing until she joined the X-men, and that was when Rogue truly found her place.
Knowing that you were fighting for the right reasons, that you were trying to safeguard something good and true, was better than any adrenaline rush imaginable.
She had joined the X-men initially because of Mystique's betrayal and deceit, but it had been more than just Scott and Kitty and Kurt's friendship, the sense of home and safety that she felt at the Institute, that kept her there.
Xavier's dream was contagious, and in time it had become her own.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Scott glanced over at her and cleared his throat. "Do you have any idea what you're going to do yet?"
"No, not a clue," Rogue said honestly. "Ah mean, this place is amazin' an' ya'll are all here, an' the dream means everythin' t' me, always has, but N'awlins is... well, it's home, an' Remy's family is mah family, too. Ah dunno what he wants, because Ah don' even know what Ah want yet."
They had been avoiding talking about it, she realized now, and not just her and Remy, but Lucas and Tessa, as well.
It was a decision that would affect all of them equally, and one that they would have to make together, but no one seemed to know how to broach the sensitive subject.
"You have to make the right choice for you, do what's best for you and Remy and your friends," Scott agreed, always the voice of reason. "But we could really use you, Rogue. The school always needs teachers we can trust, who have a lot to share with our students, but more importantly, the X-men need you."
"Ah think ya got plenty o' muscle already, sugah," Rogue pointed out wryly. "Piotr alone could probably lift the X-jet wit' one hand."
"Yeah, but there's only one Rogue," Scott replied, and then smiled ruefully.
"Ya always were cute when ya blushed," Rogue informed him.
"And you always were good at avoiding subjects you don't want to talk about."
"Touche."
"Look, I could stand here and list all the reasons we want to back on our roster, Rogue, and it would be a long list of solid reasons," Scott said seriously. "But I think you already know most of them as it is. You were a valuable asset to the team in Bayville, and you'd be one now, just like Remy, Tessa and Lucas would be."
Pressing her lips together, Rogue listened silently.
"And it goes without saying that Jean and I and the Professor, and all the others, would love to have you back," he added with genuine sincerity. "You're part of the family, and we've missed you, it won't be easy to let you leave again after grieving for you for four years."
"Emotional blackmail," Rogue observed, nodding. "Very nice."
"Thank you."
"What else do ya got?" she asked.
"An offer that probably wouldn't interest you anyway," Scott replied with a shrug.
Despite herself, Rogue took the bait. "What kind of offer?"
"The kind where I give you a sub-team," Scott answered evenly. "That's all."
"Come again?" Rogue said, frowning in confusion. "Sub-team?"
"It's something the Professor has been considering doing for a while now that the X-men have grown in such number," he explained. "We're really just one big jumbled organization at the moment, nothing official and nothing formalized, but that's about to change. We're going to split the X-men up into smaller branch teams, all operating under the Professor's direction and control, of course, with full-funding and all the benefits that go with it, so that when multiple crisises come up, we have different teams to send to handle different problems."
"Red Team, Blue Team?" Rogue concluded.
"Something like that, yes."
"Interestin' idea," she conceded thoughtfully. "It would certainly make it easier fo' ya'll t' handle everythin' that comes up."
"That's what we're hoping."
"So ya wan' me on one o' these teams, is that it?" Rogue asked. "Tryin' t' put a senior X-man on each one, someone who's got the experience an' the nerves?"
"In the end, I think it will work out that way," Scott said with a slow nod. "But that's not exactly what I had in mind for you."
"Oh?" Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."
"When all teams are working together, I'll have seniority as field leader, but Storm, Logan, Hank and Lance are going to lead four of the other five teams."
"Lance?" Rogue echoed in disbelief.
"It was the Professor's idea," Scott grunted.
"He'll do a good job, Scott, an' ya know that," Rogue said sternly. "Ah was surprise ya would tolerate him leadin', that's all. But ya don' got nothin' t' worry 'bout, he's mo' X-man than he'll admit."
"He'd better be."
Ignoring the urge to roll her eyes at his muttering, Rogue changed the subject. "Ya said there are five other teams besides yo' own, but ya only named four leaders," she pointed out. "So whose got the sixth? Jeannie?"
"No, she'll be on my team," Scott replied evenly, his gaze somehow meeting hers head-on despite the glasses over his eyes. "The Professor and I decided on a suitable leader for the sixth team, but we're not sure whether or not she'll except, because she might not be staying."
It took a moment for the unspoken implications of that statement to sink in.
"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," Rogue cried incredulously once it did. "Ya'll wan' me t' lead a team?"
"Yes," Scott said calmly. "We do."
"Are ya outta yo' mind?" she demanded.
"Not the last time I checked, no."
His glib, deadpan answer was not appreciated in the least, and she let him know that with a dark glare before she started to speak. "Ah don' know the first thing 'bout being a leader," she argued. "Ya need brute force, Ah'm yo' gal, but leader? That's yo' job, Cyke, an' Ah don' pretend t' be fit fo' those shoes."
"Tell me why exactly you think I'm leadership material and you aren't," Scott instructed, leaning back against the console with his arms folded across his chest and that horribly infuriating 'no excuses' set to his jaw.
"Fine, Ah'll tell ya why yo' the leader, not me," Rogue said sharply, and began to tick off reasons on her fingers as she went. "Ya don' scare, ya can keep a level head no matter how insane things get, ya make the tough calls, ya always find a way t' get us outta whatever mess we get in, an', oh yeah, we actually listen t' ya!"
"Are you done?" Scott asked calmly, and when she scowled at him, he took that as a yes. "First of all, I scare more than you know, but you're one to talk about not showing fear. You've got nerves of steel, Rogue, you always have."
Rogue opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a stern look from behind his glasses.
"And I've seen you make tough calls before, maybe not like the ones you'll have to make as team leader, but I know you can make them," he continued. "You're resourceful, sometimes so much so that it makes we want to pull my hair out and scream in frustration, but you never fail to get a job done and you always manage to find solutions that other people, myself included, would overlook."
Again, she started to argue, but Scott cut her off, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"I know you doubt yourself, but the professor has complete faith in you," he told her with a faint smile. "And so do I."
Blowing out a long hiss of air, Rogue glared up at him from beneath the white strands that had fallen across her face. "Ya really know how t' stop a gal in her tracks, don' ya?" she muttered. "Ah didn' know ya had it in ya t' be so sly an' calculatin', Cyke."
"It's not calculation," Scott retorted. "It's truth."
"It's crazy, is what it is," Rogue declared. "Ya'll are all outta yo' minds. The Professor needs t' find a shrink fo' the both o' ya, an' fast."
"I'll be sure to mention that idea to him," Scott said dryly, then turned serious as he looked her over pensively. "Just think it over, okay? Sleep on it, talk to Remy, and then let me know when you make a decision."
Sighing, Rogue turned back to the viewing glass and gazed down at the man trashing the Danger Room's program with brutal ferocity. "Does Logan know 'bout this?" she asked wearily.
"The Professor told him this afternoon," Scott answered evenly. "He said you were more than capable of the job. In fact," he paused, sounding somewhere between amused and annoyed. "He seemed to think you'd do my job better than I do."
Snorting softly, Rogue shook her head.
"Ah'll think 'bout it," she promised, without looking back at him. "But until Ah make up mah mind, Ah'd prefer if ya kept quiet 'bout this, if ya don' mind."
"Not at all," Scott agreed. "I'm sure Remy's anxious to see you now that you're back, so just be sure you're down for dinner in about an hour, the Professor and Jean want to have a celebration dinner."
"Celebration?" Rogue echoed, turning to look at him.
"To watch the Presidential Address," Scott replied vaguely, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Nothing you'd be interested in, I'm sure."
"Spill it, Summers," Rogue ordered. "Or Ah'll break a bone you'll need later."
"It seems that the U.N. has passed the charter abolishing their anti-mutant policies," Scott explained, and a smile actually broke out across his face. "Operation: Wideawake and all other military organizations like it have been disbanded."
The breath caught in Rogue's throat, and she swallowed hard. "Are ya serious?" she demanded hoarsely.
"Completely," Scott assured her. "Boliver Trask has been arrested, and he'll be doing quite a bit of jail time now that the Supreme Court ruled that his actions were treasonous and violated basic human rights- rights which they ruled we are just as entitled to as any other humans."
Closing her eyes against the tears welling there, Rogue pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the viewing glass, drawing soft, shuddering breaths as sobs of relief fought to break free.
"It's over, Rogue," Scott said gently, touching her shoulder lightly. "He can't hurt anyone ever again."
Incapable of words, Rogue only nodded, without opening her eyes, and she felt Scott's hand move from her shoulder as he silently slipped out of the control room, giving her some privacy to come to terms with the news she'd just been given, and to fully appreciate what it meant.
Scott was right, it was over.
The nightmare had not ended upon her rescue from Area 51 by the Acolytes, it had lingered through the years, a phantom ache, a shadow touch on the deepest corners of her mind.
But now Trask was finished, and it was finally over.
Her eyes fluttered open as the consoles beeped, signaling the end of the Danger Room session, and she gazed down at Logan as his claws sheathed themselves, bloody gashes healing rapidly all across his face and exposed arms, vanishing as if they had never been there in the first place.
With tears running down her cheeks, Rogue smiled.
That was the way it worked, after all, in time all wounds healed.
And eventually all scars faded.
Translations:
famille- family
A/N: Thanks for your patience, guys, this past month has been hectic. Law school is exhausting, so I haven't had much time for writing, but I promise to try and do better from now on.