I revised a section around the second scene after Rogue's nightmare. It plays into the story later on, but basically, Remy just sings Rogue a lullaby. If you're curious as to what was revised, that's it.
Also, many thanks (although it was long, long ago) to Sassy18 and Greensandals for their help with this story. It would have been so much different and not as amazing without them (albiet much, much shorter).
~X~X~X~X~X~
"My Lord!" Mesmero cried, rushing to his master's side, "My Lord, are you alright?"
Apocalypse was hunched over in his golden throne, his gaze frozen and dead-looking upon the stone floor. A few large torches blazed drearily in the desolate space and cast an eerie glow upon the rapidly aging mutant. His once strong, solid face was lined with wrinkles and his cold violet eyes were tired and worn around the edges. His left hand lay curled into his body, hidden beneath the vast blue robes that covered his still-muscular frame.
Mesmero reached out to his master, silently asking permission to assist, and Apocalypse gingerly removed his hand from beneath the robes to let Mesmero examine it. As Mesmero's gaze fell upon the limb, he was careful not to gasp and cause his master more concern. The hand was withered, decrepit and practically useless. The bones and veins protruded sickeningly from beneath the nearly translucent flesh as his wrist hung limply from the unaffected forearm.
The difference between his hand and forearm was simultaneously fascinating and frightening to the servant. It was as if Apocalypse was slowly converting back to his former self – to the way he had appeared before draining the mutant girl of her powers.
"My Lord," Mesmero pleaded, "we must get you back to the chamber. You should conserve your strength until we find the girl."
Apocalypse slowly turned his dark gaze toward the tattooed face of his telepathic servant. In response to the unspoken threat, Mesmero immediately flinched away.
"Yes." Apocalypse responded. "You WILL find that girl. You will find my QUEEN, Mesmero, and soon. Or it will be YOUR life I sacrifice instead of that impudent boy's!" Though Apocalypse's voice was strained and heavy, the promise in his words was not lost on the servant.
Mesmero bowed heavily and stepped back. "Yes Master, as you wish. We will find the girl before the new moon, I assure you. Then she and the young man, Gambit, will be yours to despose of as you see fit."
The blue mega-mutant's lips turned up into a chilling grin as he considered the many ways he would torture the two infidels for their insolence. He would need to keep his Queen alive, but the other one…
There were many, many things Apocalypse had in mind for that meddling thief. If Gambit was lucky, he would die at the hand of the robot guards long before Apocalypse could reach him.
However, once the girl's powers were fully under his control, he might consider resurrecting the card-throwing troublemaker just for the enjoyment of torturing the man to death. He could amuse himself for all eternity by torturing and killing Gambit only to bring the boy back to life so he could repeat the process over again.
His Queen, on the other hand, would need to be taught a lesson or two as well, and Apocalypse only hoped Mesmero found her well before the new moon. He wanted time with her before the ritual was completed. After that, well … torturing her wouldn't be as fun without the screaming.
"Are you close to finding them, Mesmero?" Apocalypse asked at last as he pulled himself away from visions of his Queen writhing in pain before him.
"We – we are… we are looking, My Lord," Mesmero stammered piteously. "It would be much easier if I could drop the psi-shield for a moment. Then I would be able to find them within moments."
"NO!" Apocalypse bellowed, his good hand stretching out toward his slave. Mesmero cowered beneath his Master's raised palm, expecting a surge of pure agony to ripple through his body, but Apocalypse simply glared at him instead before resting his good hand in his lap atop the withered one.
"I will not waste what little strength I have left on you now, Mesmero. But, if you speak of dropping the shields again, I will cause you ten times the pain you just imagined." Apocalypse fixed the man with a deadly stare and Mesmero bowed low.
"Yes, My Lord."
Apocalypse nodded. "We will not drop the psi shields. I cannot risk Xavier or his X-Men finding the girl before the ritual is complete. It may take many hours for the transformation to come to fruition, and I will not have them interfering before it is done. They will not have the chance to bring her back again and ruin my plans."
"Yes, My Lord," Mesmero muttered again.
Apocalypse retrieved a small blue stone from within his robes and examined it in his hands. It glowed faintly with light, but it was clearly dimming now and he sighed in exasperation.
"I have exhausted the powers I gained from the girl after my release. I cannot yet defeat the X-Men and their new allies, but once the girl is under my complete control, we will annihilate anyone who dares to stand in my way. Together, my Queen and I will reign in a new era. Only the strongest mutants will survive and all others will be…relieved… of their pitiful existence."
Mesmero nodded again as Apocalypse straightened in his chair.
"But my dreams for the future cannot come to pass until you FIND that GIRL!" he shouted and rose from the chair to tower over Mesmero.
"I have precious little energy left. The chamber only sustains me for a short while and I am vulnerable while I slumber within. My Queen will provide me with the strength of a hundred mutants for a thousand years and once the ritual is complete, I can be rid of that cursed contraption once and for all."
Apocalypse stepped down from his throne gingerly and dismissed Mesmero's silent offering of aide. As he walked out of the throne room, Apocalypse called back to Mesmero and gave the final instructions for the night.
"I will not be invading My Queens dreams tonight – my resources are much too low to be effective against her willpower. I will rest now and try again tomorrow. My guards will search throughout the night, but they will not be of much use in the dark. You, however, will continue your psychic scans for My Queen and her companion – alert me immediately if you find anything."
Mesmero scurried out the door quickly as Apocalypse made his way to the lower levels to rest – if he didn't find the girl soon, it would be his life on the sacrificial alter instead of her companion's!
~X~X~X~
"Nuh!" Rogue grunted heavily in her sleep as her body contorted and flinched away from the nightmare that gripped her in its invisible hand.
She was lying on her side in the cold dirt with Gambit beside her. A low hanging pine tree sheltered them from the brunt of the cold night breeze as they slept fitfully. Their backs were parallel, but not touching, as they shared the limited stretch of Gambit's leather duster – the only real source of warmth they had.
Rogue moaned and her hand twitched restlessly at her side, the terror of her nightmares flashing across her pale, sleeping face.
~X~
She was running again – being chased and haunted by so many eyes, so many faces, that wanted to see her crumble and pay for her crimes against them.
Her world was laced in darkness. There was nothing - no floor, ceiling or walls - to close in on her and restrict her movement, but all around she felt the undetectable weight of those eyes crushing down on her. All those eyes…
All those faces…
One face – blue and evil – loomed high above all the others, its maniacal grin twisting up into a silent yet deafening roar of laughter. Rogue dropped to her knees and covered her ears, coiling in on herself as she cowered before the ghostly image.
She was wearing the same black dress Apocalypse had adorned her with and her hair was still matted and muddy as it curled around her face daintily, oblivious to the tempest churning within Rogue's mind.
The faces loomed around her, swirling in and out in maddening circles as they swooped close and faded again like malignant ghosts.
They were so angry with her…
"How could you do this to us?" they called in high-pitched shrills like wind upon the cattails. "You betrayed us – you've killed us!"
Their eyes – all those EYES – were glaring at her, staring, accusing and seeking revenge.
"It wasn't mah FAULT!"
Rogue turned her head up toward the dark, empty sky above and shouted at them with her hands still held tightly over her ears. "He MADE meh do it! Ah'm sorry! Ah didn't mean to!"
"But you did!" they shrieked again as the circling and swooping continued. The nightmare ghosts were deaf to her pleas and indifferent to her innocence – they fed on her fear and only grew larger and more bold as they inched closer to the cowering girl.
"Ah didn't MEAN to! Ah didn't WANT to! Please, leave me be!" Tears streaked down Rogue's face as she held her hands to her ears and watched, terrified, as their face circled ever-closer to her.
All those faces…
Round and round they went, swooping and diving, trying to consume her with their hatred and misery.
One lunged at her suddenly and rage contorted his face into a gargoyle's mask, but Rogue knew him by the short, tidy blonde hair and those blue, blue eyes.
Cody.
He was so ANGRY …
Rogue screamed as the ghostly representation of her first victim swept toward her and she threw herself down to lay flat on the floor with her hands over her head as she tried to make herself into as small a target as possible.
Her eyes turned upward into that inky blackness and fell upon the still hovering face of Apocalypse. His eyes burned with an evil that Rogue had never before encountered, and his lecherous smile sent chills down her spine.
"You will be my QUEEN!" he bellowed at last and flew toward her, his mouth gaping wide as he made to swallow her entirely.
She screamed.
~X~
He didn't know if it was the soft whimper or the insistent shifting that first woke him, but the tears pooling down Rogue's sleeping face immediately jolted Remy LeBeau from his slumber and caused his heart to race with panic.
Had Apocalypse invaded her dreams again? Would he find them?
Turning to Rogue, he propped himself up on one arm and gently tried to shake the girl awake.
"Rogue, chere, come on. Come back t' me now. Don't let him do dis t' you."
She remained troublingly unresponsive.
"Merde (crap)," he muttered aloud, "not again." He got to his knees and moved to try and roll her over when she suddenly let out a strangled shriek as her arms jerked subconsciously.
"Rogue!" Remy cried, convinced that Apocalypse was after her again, and he grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her onto her back as she screamed a second time.
Clutching at her ribs, Rogue gasped loudly and sucked in air as she shot upright. Remy heaved a sigh of relief. It must have been a simple nightmare.
Not that this girl's nightmares would be anything near simple, but he supposed it was better than another possession by Apocalypse.
Immediately Remy wrapped the confused, shaking girl in his arms. He nestled her softly in his lap with her legs splayed over one of his knees and her feet dangling helplessly in the air. "Shh now petite, y'r alright. S' just a bad dream. Apocalypse ain't here – he ain't gonna get ya."
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and sat, rocking her gently from side to side as he smoothed down her hair and waited for her to relax. One of her arms was tucked between their two bodies while the other clung tightly to his shoulder as she tried to calm down and adjust her breathing.
She was okay. It was just a nightmare and everything was okay now, Rogue told herself over and over as she took deep breaths to slow her racing heart. Remy was with her– he wouldn't let anything happen to her. She was safe with him.
She was safe with Remy…
Taking comfort in the small mantra, Rogue slowly worked her way back to the land of reality as the ghosts and nightmares quietly died away. Once she was satisfied that she was indeed safe in Remy's arms, she quickly realized that she was sitting very comfortably in the Acolyte's lap, snuggled up against his body like a frightened child.
She tried not to cringe.
As Rogue's breathing slowly calmed and her trembling had died down to a light shiver, Remy tried to gauge the girl's mental state. He could tell she was still very upset about the nightmare – as evident by her intermittent sniffles - but he couldn't help wondering if at least some of the tension that still held her body hostage was caused by their close proximity and his hold on her. Even though he didn't want to purposefully make her skittish, Remy knew Rogue HAD to get over her fear of touch if they were going to make any progress with ruining Apocalypse's plans, so he waited until her muscles relaxed a bit before he pulled back to examine her tear-streaked and dirty face.
The sight of her – so impish looking with soil and berry stains smudging her pale complexion, yet beautiful and vulnerable with her eyes shining brightly from the tears – had Remy's breath catching in his throat. The girl noted his intense scrutiny and ducked her head bashfully as her cheeks tinted with pink hues. Remy stubbornly followed her eyes and bent forward slightly to meet her gaze again.
"Ain't nothin' t' be ashamed of Rogue. We all have bad dreams," he stated quietly and moved one hand from her shoulders to gently wipe away the evidence of her nightmares with his thumb.
Rogue's breath hitched again as she watched him brush away her tears and she swallowed hard before licking her lips nervously. She cast her eyes downward again, but Remy's hand trailed her cheek to grasp her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. Then he tilted her head back up to meet his eyes.
"Y' know, sometimes it helps t' talk about it…" he suggested quietly, but Rogue just pursed her lips instead and looked away again.
"Yeah, I know," he replied to her silence as he dropped his grip on her chin, "easier said den done, right?"
She nodded, crimson lips still glued together tightly as she stared off into the trees.
With a small sigh, Remy reminded himself not to force her into divulging information to him, but after a moment decided to try and lighten the mood while simultaneously helping her open up to him a little more.
"I had dis nightmare once dat scared d' wits outta me," he started, putting his arm around her shoulders again and drawing her closer, "I was in d' kitchen, cookin' wit' my Tante, when dis fly comes buzzin' round m' head. Only, it ain't just a fly; it be dis giant evil bee with great big horns and a stinger six inches long." He wasn't about to tell her that it also had haunting red and black eyes – a mirror reflection of his own.
Rogue relaxed against him a little more, resting her head on his chest as he spoke, and Remy couldn't help but sneak a peek at her every few moments.
"So it starts chasin' me round and round de kitchen and all t'rough de house an' out into de swamps. Den de gators came out and tried t' eat me – lucky f'r me, I climb trees real good. 'Course, it didn't help save me from de demon bee, but I was able t' get back inside de house and slam de door on it. Den m' Tante starts in like 'Boy, didn't I tell ya t' stir dat Gumbo right good?' An' she's FLAMIN' mad at me an' wavin' around dis big wooden spoon, threatenin' t' beat me t' death wit' it and serve me up as part o' de Gumbo."
Remy felt her chuckle soundlessly against him.
"Thehn wha' happened?" Rogue asked at last, her voice gravely and dry from the combination of sleep and crying. She was a little surprised at the sudden admission of his own nightmares, but the story helped clear away the last of her lingering fears and she relaxed a little more as she tried to fight against her exhaustion.
"Den I finally woke up," he answered, "Good thing too; dis one had just enough time to get up and change d' sheets before m' brother woke up." His tone was light and playful, but Remy was secretly very thankful she couldn't see the blush that stained HIS cheeks for a brief moment.
By the time she looked up at him with doubt written across her features, his face was lightened only by his wide signature grin.
"Yer jokin' right? Ah mean ya didn't REALLY wet the bed 'cause a some BEE did you?" Rogue's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, but he could see the glimmer of belief within their emerald depths. She shyly ducked her head again as he chuckled.
"M' not jokin' at all. An' it wasn't de bee dat done scared de piss outta me. M' Tante is downright TERRIFYIN' when she's angry – 'specially when it comes t' her Gumbo!"
A tremor of laughter coursed through her as she lounged, albeit anxiously, against his body and managed to say, "Sounds pretty frightenin" around a yawn.
"T'was," he agreed solemnly.
She was at least calm now, but Gambit knew sleep would be hard to come by, especially since she was trying valiantly to fight it. With a small swallow of nervousness, he began humming.
"Fais dodo, Colas mon p'tit frère. Fais dodo, t'auras du lolo." **
It was low and sweet; a song his Tante Mattie had sang to him on that rare occasion when Jean Luc hadn't been around to chastise her for 'making him soft.' His deep Cajun lilt rumbled in his chest, adding to the serenity of the song.
Aside from a small catch in her breath, Rogue did not react to his singing, but her shaky breathing continued to even out slowly.
"Maman est en haut. Qui fait du gâteau. Papa est en bas. Qui fait du chocolat. Fais dodo, Colas mon p'tit frère. Fais dodo, t'auras du lolo"
"Hmm," Rogue sighed, smiling, as her head drooped on his shoulder. As he repeated the song a few times, her breathing became deep and heavy, and a small smile formed on Remy's face as he angled his head to get a look at her sleeping face.
She had the tiniest of smiles on her lips as she dozed and Remy was amazed by how much of a difference it made on her pale face. There were flecks of mud and dirt staining her cheeks and forehead and the berry stains were just starting to fade from her chin and lips. Her face was completely devoid of makeup and, now that she had a little more color to her face than that deathly blue-gray, Remy was amazed by how incredibly beautiful and serene she looked.
Her cheeks were tinted with the barest amount of pink from the sun and it gave her skin a wonderfully healthy glow. The way she looked now - with the dirt, berry stains and even a light suntan - made her look like a fallen angel. And, even more, Remy was stunned by the coiling ball of protectiveness that formed in his stomach. He suddenly knew he would protect this girl at any cost.
He had to.
There was no rhyme or reason to it really, but he knew it. Just like he knew he would likely die for her, if it came right down to it.
The realization threw him off balance.
Would he REALLY lay his life on the line for some girl? Just because she had a pretty face? Just because she pretended to be so tough and indifferent when she was really just as vulnerable and lost as him?
He couldn't dwell on it tonight. It was late and he was exhausted from the day's events. There had been so many ups and downs that it was impossible to tell which needed the most rest – his body, mind or emotions.
Remy let Rogue rest against him until she had slipped into a deep, calm sleep, and he intermittently smoothed her hair back as he tried to sort out the jumble in his head. Finally pushing away the torrent of emotions welling up inside him, Remy carefully hooked his arm under the girl's knees and lifted her off his lap with ease.
She stirred slightly in her sleep and immediately curled up like a little kitten as Remy placed her gently on the ground. He took great care in covering her with his coat – making sure she was swathed from her feet to her shoulders – and left only a portion of the fabric for himself.
As Remy lay down beside her, he repressed the urge to put an arm around her and instead turned his back to hers – casting one last glance at her peacefully sleeping face before fatigue finally claimed him as well.
~X~X~X~
"Psst! Bobby, you awake man?" Ray called quietly to his roommate.
With a heavy sigh, Bobby turned over to face Berserker. "No man, I can't sleep. You?"
"Yeah, me either. I'm too wired," the boy replied as he ran a hand through his messy pseudo-Mohawk.
"Same here," Bobby agreed as he flopped onto his back again and flung a weary hand over his eyes. "I hate to say it, but I could seriously use a Danger Room session right now."
"You said it dude. A hardcore sim with Logan is just what we need."
They both lay there, wishing for some type of divine intervention, when the bedroom door creaked open, revealing a very bedraggled looking Sam Guthrie.
Ray and Bobby both sat upright with identical expressions of curiosity adorning their features.
"Ya'll can't sleep either, huh? Me and Roberto are goin' down to the Danger Room t' let off a little steam. Wanna join us?" The blonde Kentucky native asked with a half-grin.
Within seconds, both boys were out of bed and grabbing their uniforms.
"Oh, ya'll won't need those," Sam warned quickly as he waved a pair of torn jeans. "Just grab some old clothes that ya'll don't mind gettin' ruined."
Ray and Bobby stared quizzically at their teammate, but eventually shrugged before grabbing some old jeans and shirts of their own.
Roberto nodded to the boys as they stepped into the hallway. "Come on, but be QUIET, we don't wanna wake the whole house," Sunfire whispered as they tip-toed down the hall.
As the group passed the commons room a few minutes later, they could see the light of the television flickering against the walls and froze. Bobby winced and stepped forward to see how busted they were.
When he was about to stick his head around the corner, he heard a soft sniffle and his brows furrowed. It didn't sound like one of the girls, but who else would be crying to themselves and watching TV this late at night?
Bobby finally peeked around the corner of the wall and his eyebrows shot up in shock.
"Jamie?" he asked, stepping into the light of the doorway, "What are you doing up? It's two in the morning"
Jamie tried to discretely wipe his eyes and sniffled once more before turning his head to acknowledge the older X-Man quickly.
"Oh, hey Bobby," the young boy said at last, "I'm sorry if I woke you. I couldn't sleep." He pursed his lips nervously before turning back to the silent TV screen.
"Yeah, me neither," Bobby bit his lip hesitantly and turned to look at the other three boys who were still hiding behind the wall. He gestured silently toward Jamie, who was staring at the wall just ABOVE the TV with a blank expression, and the other boys frantically shook their heads 'no.'
Bobby glared at them and mouthed, "come on, guys," to them, but still Ray and Roberto disagreed.
Sam, however, finally took pity on the youngest X-Man and stepped into the doorway with Bobby.
"Hey Jamie," Cannonball started, "we're all goin' down to the Danger Room to mess around for a bit and burn off some energy. Wanna join us?"
Jamie's eyes went wide with disbelief before a big grin broke out on his tear-streaked face.
"Would I!" he shouted.
"SHH!" All four boys warned at once.
"Oops," Jamie apologized quietly, "sorry."
"'S alright little buddy," Sam said as he put his arm around the boys shoulder. Ray and Roberto quickly stood up, waving awkwardly at the new addition.
Soon all five were standing outside the Danger Room and Sam opened a panel in the wall to reveal an array of helmets, masks and small, sleek metal guns in a variety of colors.
"Ah, sweet!" Ray cried as he wrenched a gun off the wall and the other boys shushed him quickly.
"What IS it?" Jamie asked innocently.
Bobby stared at him in shock and horror. "Jamie, haven't you ever been PAINTBALLING before?"
The boy shook his head in the negative and the other four boys spent the next five minutes trying to explain the rules and logistics to the game.
"Oh," Jamie nodded at last, "It's like an FPS with paint!"
"Uh, yeah, sure," Ray agreed as he suited up and placed a belt of extra paintballs around his waist.
Soon they were all geared up with their black masks – which looked like a cross between a Darth Vader and Moto-Cross helmet – goggles, gloves and guns. Their guns were all loaded with different colored paintballs and a belt of extra canisters adorned each boy's waist - orange for Ray, yellow for Sam, red for Roberto, blue for Bobby and green for Jamie.
Except for Jamie, they all wore old, torn jeans and various t-shirts with different logos and slogans emblazoned across them, while the youngest boy still sported his blue and green striped PJ's.
"You sure you don't want to change into something else, Jamie?" Bobby asked as he skimmed over the boy's attire. "Those paintballs hurt when you get hit with them."
Jamie just shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll be okay – this is just like my video games."
The other four snickered loudly before Roberto's face lit up with curiosity and fear.
"Hey," he asked with great apprehension, "what about Logan? Won't he catch us down here?"
"Nah," Ray replied, slapping his friend on the back. "I saw Logan and Sabertooth leave together earlier today. I'm pretty sure they won't be back for a LONG time. They probably went to go tear the crap out of each other without freaking the students out."
The boys all nodded in agreement as Sam cocked his gun before listing the rules and objectives. "Alright ya'll," he began, "first rule is NO powers. First round we'll play Capture the Flag, second is just teams and third we'll go free-for-all. If we still want to keep playing after that, we'll just do whatever. Everyone good with that?"
They all nodded eagerly.
"Then let's go!" Sam cried as they broke into a run and headed inside.
The Danger Room had been transformed into a scenic landscape with dense clumps of trees, large and small boulders, ravines, hills, caves, lakes and even a few random pieces like an old junk car, an overturned couch, a boat and a table or two.
The sky above was clear and crisp with the scent of simulated autumn air. It was cool and breezy in order to keep the boys from roasting as they played.
"I'll be Captain for team one; Ray, you wanna be a Captain, too? You've played a lot, right?" Sam asked.
Ray nodded with a large grin as he loaded his gun with orange paintballs.
"Good," Sam continued, "Ah'll take Roberto on mah team, he hasn't played as much, and you can take Bobby and Jamie – that way, it'll level out the experience between the teams." With that, the two groups broke off and headed toward their respective 'camps.' Everyone was deadly serious about the game save Jamie – who was skipping around like an exuberant three-year-old.
~X~
"MWAHAHAHAH! I got you 'Berto!" Bobby shouted with glee as he popped out of his hiding place amongst a patch of shrubbery. He raised his gun above his head and was doing a little happy dance when a sharp "PFFT" resounded through the air and Bobby doubled over, taking a direct hit to the stomach.
"Oh man!" he whined as he tore his mask off and examined the yellow stain on his white shirt. Just for good measure, he shot off a few of his own paintballs in random directions, trying to tag Cannonball.
"Now, now Drake, be a good sport," Sam called from behind a rock somewhere.
"Man, this blows," Bobby said, lowering his gun and trudging off to join Roberto on the sidelines.
Another "PFFT" sounded from a distance and Bobby yelped.
"HEY!" he shouted angrily as he turned to check out the newest yellow splotch on his lower back, "That HURT you sucker! I'm gonna get you for that next round!"
"Yeah, yeah," Sam called back, "We'll see 'bout that."
Ray was hiding near the overturned couch as he tried to pinpoint the opposing Captain's position. "That's right Sam," he whispered, "just keep talkin'."
From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of blonde hair poking out from behind a small rock about 50 yards away and grinned.
While Sam's attention was focused on Bobby, Ray snuck around to the trees and slowly advanced on his distracted rival. When he was about 50 feet away and hidden in the trees, Ray raised his gun and took aim.
Sam crouched behind his rock, quietly laughing at Bobby's outraged expression, when the boy's eyes darted to the cluster of trees just to the right.
Immediately, Sam threw himself to the side and rolled just as a blast of orange paint splattered the rock face. Vaulting upright, Sam quickly spotted his opponent and fired rapidly, running and darting away from the orange paintballs that barraged the air around him.
Ray rolled in the grass, barely dodging the spray of a dozen yellow paintballs that splattered across the ground and marked the simulated trees behind him with deadly accuracy.
Hiding behind a wide oak, Ray caught his breath for a moment and peeked around the other side, noting that Sam had taken cover behind the old junk car nearby.
The two boys fired one-handed at each other from their respective hiding spots, not daring to expose more of themselves than necessary. They looked like a couple of whack-a-moles as they popped up, fired, and hunkered down again. It went like that for at least four minutes until Ray, finally sick of the redundancy, bolted out from his hiding place at exactly the same moment as Sam. They shot rapidly at each other, running sideways as they held their guns out in front of them.
Ray pulled the trigger so rapidly that the paintballs couldn't fall down the barrel fast enough and the gun jammed unexpectedly.
"What the… OW!" Ray shouted as he was sprayed across the chest with a multitude of yellow paintballs, which promised to leave a string of welts in their wake.
"Oh MAN!" Bobby shouted from the sidelines as Roberto and Sam whooped with joy at their certainly clinched victory.
They were making so much noise, in fact, that no one noticed little Jamie crouched in the bushes nearby – he'd been TOLD to stay at base and guard the flag, but when Bobby had been tagged, Jamie knew he'd have to get in the game and show his stuff.
"PFFT!"
The sound of a paintball leaving the gun barrel was barely audible with the raucous partying until Sam suddenly grabbed his butt and howled with pain, turning in rapid circles as he tried to get a look at who had shot him.
"Bobby!" Sam cried, pointing his unoccupied index finger at the other X-Man.
Bobby threw his hands up in self-defense, "I didn't do it, I swear!" Next to him, Ray wore a similarly confused and innocent look.
"Well then who…" Sam trailed off as he pulled his hand away from his paint-covered behind to reveal his palm, covered in green.
"JAMIE!?" All four boys cried at once and immediately Sam and Roberto groaned in unison while Ray and Bobby whooped and danced around.
Jamie came out of hiding then and joined the small party, laughing as his team hoisted him up on their shoulders and paraded him around the simulated landscape.
~X~
Sam searched the tree line for Jamie's distinct blue and green striped PJ's. He'd already tagged Ray, and Roberto and Bobby were in a dead heat against each other – darting around objects and trying to be the first to tag the other person out. Sam, however, had a mission.
He was NOT going to be outsmarted by a ten year old. No way. God knew he loved the kid, but he'd be damned if he was going to lose this game to Jamie, of all people, who hadn't even known what paintball WAS until today.
Sam Guthrie smirked as he spotted the pattern he'd been searching for – the kid was making this too easy. The boy was crouched down in a patch of yellow weeds and his multi-colored PJ's stuck out like a sore thumb.
Cannonball raised his gun and squeezed the trigger when …
"SPLAT!"
The sudden onslaught of green paint to his goggles startled Sam so badly that he landed abruptly on his behind and fired off a few paintballs by accident.
"JAMIE!" Sam yelled, furious that he had been outsmarted yet again.
The young boy snickered from somewhere in the trees. "Boy Sam, I'd have thought you'd see that one coming from a mile away. Who knew you'd be the one to fall for the old fake out method?"
Sam wrenched his paint-covered mask from his face and glared up at the boy who was perched in the tree directly above him, completely shirtless. The southerner tried to be angry at his rival, but couldn't manage it for very long.
A bemused grin broke out on his face.
"Video games huh?" Sam asked and Jamie smiled broadly as he hopped down from the tree.
"Yep. That and I used to play Laser Tag, Nerf and Water Wars like an addict. I've gotten pretty good at the FPS stuff. It's just too bad our real enemies don't tag out with a couple of paintballs…"
Sam shook his head and laughed as he ruffled the young boy's hair. Dual howls of pain and outrage could be heard in the distance and the southerner shook his head.
"Looks like you win again, kiddo. Next round, you're all mine though."
"We'll see about that, Sam," Jamie teased as he fell into step alongside the older boy.
~X~
"Son of a …!" Ray yelled aloud as he threw his gun down and examined his now green-painted shirt. "You've gotta be kidding me! I thought he's never played paintball before?!"
Sam was hiding behind a rock as he tried to pick out the little sniper. It was technically a free-for-all at this point, but Jamie was steadily beating the others into submission. He had already tagged Roberto, and Sam could only presume that Jamie was messing with the rest of them. Especially since their hiding spots would suddenly be littered with paintballs while completely missing all of the boys.
Sam shook his head as he tried to hold back his ire. "He HASN'T," he replied to Ray, who was still examining his ruined shirt. Suddenly, a green paintball tagged a piece of rock not two inches from his nose.
Now the kid was just showing off.
He heard boyish laughter echo from the trees and jumped over to the other side of the rock for cover. "Bobby I need backup!" He yelled loudly as he searched frantically for Jamie's PJ's – which happened to blend in VERY well with the simulated foliage.
Bobby darted over from his own rock to hide with Sam and the two stooped down to formulate a battle plan. While they were whispering to themselves and trying to figure out the best way to bring Jamie down, the boy in question was slowly sneaking up to their hiding spot.
"Okay, so really, we just need to corner him and you can hit him from in front while I get him from behind." Bobby stated confidently.
"Yeah, but there's jus' one problem… We gotta FIND him first!"
"Find who?" Jamie asked as he grinned down at them from atop the boulder they were hiding behind.
"AH!"
Both boys fell backwards and scrambled for their guns, bolting up from their crouched positions quickly as Jamie dropped from the rock to stand between them. The boy didn't even reach for his gun as he watched Sam and Bobby take aim and fire at him almost simultaneously.
Jamie dove to the ground as the boys grasped their triggers and, instead of hitting their intended target, Sam and Bobby were stunned to find themselves blasted by each other's gun.
They stood staring at each other and the new paint splotches while Jamie lounged somewhat nervously on the ground – his gun cocked and ready to fire back in self-defense if necessary.
As they stared, a smile slowly broke out on Sam's face, which rapidly turned into a large grin before morphing into howls of laughter. Soon all five boys were joining in and holding their sides as they realized the ridiculousness of it all.
Bobby and Sam each extended a hand to Jamie, who slung his gun over his shoulder and accepted the assistance graciously, smiling all the while.
The four older boys all clapped the young X-Man on the back and gave him resounding praises for a job well done.
"Anyone want to go again?" Jamie asked with a grin.
~X~
They all walked back to their rooms together, each covered in various colors of paint - EXCEPT for Jamie, whose PJ's were miraculously still clean if only a little rumpled. Wearing small, tired smiles, they momentarily allowed themselves to forget the atrocities that had occurred within the last few days and just be boys.
~X~X~X~
Remy awoke to the sound of birds singing loudly overhead and groaned. He'd had such a pleasant dream of being in his own bed back home and he hated waking up to find himself cold and cramped on the forest floor.
As the last remnants of the dream dissipated in the cool morning air, Remy struggled to remember what about the dream had been so pleasantly soothing. His face screwed up as he recalled the giant four poster bed, red and black silk sheets, and a woman. He knew she was beautiful; but her face, her features, even the color of her hair were gone now and he wished he could sink back into the blissfully happy dream.
Convinced that the dream girl was gone for good, Remy forced himself to sit up. His back and neck were incredibly stiff and sore from sleeping on the hard ground and he rolled his neck a few times to pop out the kinks.
As he stretched his arms above his head, a soft moan roused him from his ruminations on the dream. He looked over to see Rogue shivering lightly with a small frown on her face. Remy scooted closer to the girl - who was still curled up in a ball, but looking much less peaceful than she had last night - and readjusted his coat to cover her better. He smoothed the material over her bare arms and rubbed them lightly to create more warmth for her.
She looked so small and vulnerable like this – no makeup, no hardcore leather uniform, no protection or weapon of any kind – and Remy smiled ruefully. No wonder she acted and dressed the way she did. She was probably terrified to let anyone see her softer side. She wouldn't want people to look at her like he was right now and think she was weak or helpless.
Like him, she had erected a wall around her body and her heart to keep people from seeing her true self. Only difference was, he hid his insecurities and doubts behind a façade of humor, arrogance, and flirtatiousness instead of icy glares, a bad attitude, and dark clothing.
They were so much alike, he and she. They had both been used and betrayed, had both joined the "bad guys" for lack of a better option, and both had felt the crushing weight caused by the pressure of their powers. They were survivors, outcasts, drifters. They would do what was necessary to get by, even if it meant losing themselves to do so. Neither of them truly belonged with anyone - too honorable to intentionally bring irreparable harm to someone, but not so naïve as to blindly accept the promise of a brighter future.
They would both feel out of place, unaccepted by those around them, regardless of where they went or who they followed. She was a mutant vampire - unable to touch, to feel, to love without the risk of harming those she cared for – and he was a thief, a scoundrel, a … murderer.
He swallowed hard.
He would never find peace at a place like Xavier's. There were too many skeletons in his closet for him to even hope of something so impossible. No matter how nice it would be to finally find a place where he could belong.
And yet, he did hope for it. In his deepest, most secret thoughts he wanted to belong, to do something GOOD for once in his life. And who knew, maybe this girl - this rogue – would be his way of finding redemption.
If he could save her, he might have a chance to become the man he'd always wanted to be – the man who rescued beautiful women instead of taking them to bed and then leaving them; the man who fought for the greater good of all mankind instead of just his own skin; the man who valued his morals and beliefs above his own life.
A hero and not a villain…
Remy brushed a lock of dirty white hair from Rogue's face gingerly. This girl could have made the same mistakes as him - used bitterness as an excuse for bad behavior and worse decisions – but she hadn't. She had faced betrayal and abuse like a true hero, yet still stood strong and resolved despite the hardships she encountered.
But he saw the signs. He knew first-hand that a person could only play the unbreakable, infallible hero for so long before the armor started to crack…
… and her skin was starting to show behind all those walls she'd erected.
It wouldn't be long before she fell apart completely or succumbed to the darker side of her nature. There were really only three ways to go when you finally lost yourself –you bottom out, drink and party away your sorrows and bad memories until you become only a shadow of your former self.
Or, you leave your old life behind, venturing out for some new sensation to make you feel alive again. Unfortunately, that sensation usually comes from the darker side of your nature and you find yourself betraying everything you believed in just so you can find some peace, So you can try to recapture whatever it was you lost in the first place.
Finally, there was the last option of succumbing to the utter hopelessness that occurs when everything you've ever known and believed about yourself comes crashing down around you. When there are no more walls or armor to hide behind and all you're left with is the barren shell of what you once were, you start to feel like there's only one way out. He'd stood at that threshold more than once in his life and thankfully, whatever Powers That Be had seen fit to pull him back from that edge. The difficulty was that he'd only traded one problem for another.
Looking back on his past, Remy sighed as he thought that maybe he, like so many of his ghosts, would have been better off if he'd just taken that final step and ended it all. But, the concept of spending the rest of eternity burning away for his sins was far more frightening to him than any cause of death. His ghosts haunted him enough as it was – he didn't need them hovering around his head and screaming at him until the end of time, too.
So perhaps she was his ticket out of the hellish nightmare he currently called a life. While she was still trying valiantly to play the hero, he had given up long ago. If he could save her, maybe even help her find herself along the way, he might have a chance at true peace someday.
Reaching over, he brushed her hair back from her face again and sighed, a rueful smile flitting across his lips.
She hadn't broken yet, hadn't lost herself completely like he had, and maybe he could help her reclaim what she'd lost before it consumed her. The thought of this girl, this beautiful, strong, courageous, intelligent, witty and sassy young woman succumbing to the hopelessness and losing everything that made her so unique was nearly heartbreaking.
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
He couldn't let that happen. He WOULDN'T. He would save her from Apocalypse and then save her from herself, perhaps even do both at once. They had three days before the new moon and if he could get Rogue to open up to him during that time, he might be able to help her tear down some of those walls without losing herself along the way.
He offered a small smile to her sleeping face. Whether she liked it or not, she'd have someone watching out for her from now on. A living guardian angel to help her through the rough patches in life and be there for her when her walls and armor finally came crashing down.
Only he would be a real angel for her - not a devil in disguise like the one that had "rescued" him from the edge of a bridge one cold winter's night. No, he would not let another devil sink its hands into this girl. He wouldn't let her lose herself, not like he had.
He would play her hero for now – until she was strong enough to be her own again.
~X~X~X~
"Logan!" Scott barked from the top of the stairs as the older man dragged himself through the front doors. He was covered in blood, half drunk (which was fading far too quickly) and still very much on edge despite spending the last … how many hours now?... drinking heavily and beating the snot out of Sabertooth.
He was too tired to argue with Scooter right now. All he wanted was to shower and fall into the peaceful oblivion of sleep for a few hours. Preferably without the nightmares for once…
"Logan, it's only 6:30 in the morning and you already look like shit. What the hell have you been doing?" Scott asked as he descended the staircase with a very angry look on his features.
"I could say the same thing to you Slim," Logan returned with a cocky grin as he tried to brush past the boy.
Scott grabbed Logan's arm roughly, silently forbidding him from leaving.
"Watch it bub," Wolverine growled, "'cause unless you're lookin' for a haircut, I wouldn't do that."
Scott stared the older man down for a moment or two before begrudgingly removing his hand.
"Look, I'm sorry, but Jesus, Logan, we're dealing with a crisis and you're off getting into bar fights! We could use you around here and you're nowhere to be found! No one expects you to be the responsible adult or anything, but you can at least TRY to be around when times get tough."
"You're REALLY looking for a fight aren't you?"
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a labored sigh. "I just… This is an extremely difficult situation for everyone Logan. I know how much you cared for Rogue, so did I, but right now, we need you – the students need you. How are they supposed to deal with this if we can't?"
"Well, at least you included yourself there, Slim. I was about to recite the old axiom about the pot and the kettle…" Logan interjected with a tired smirk. He ran his hand through his dirty hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm no good with grief and B.S. like that. The Prof knows it, the kids know it and you know it. Chuck suggested I get outta here before I cause the kids 'unnecessary anxiety' or some crap like that."
"Yeah, I know," Scott replied as he sighed again and pulled at his own hair. "I just… God, Logan I feel so HELPLESS. I want to do something productive to bring that bastard down for what he did to Rogue, but the Professor can't even find him. Kitty's been on the web non-stop for the last 24 hours trying to find anything she can on Apocalypse.
"Kurt won't come out of his room or talk to anyone. The Professor's locked himself in his study; Beast and Storm are killing themselves trying to figure out where Apocalypse could be hiding or what the hell even HAPPENED in Tibet. I'm… not dealing very well – that's obvious to everyone – and Jean… I don't know WHAT'S going on with Jean."
Scott deflated at last, staring dejectedly at the floor before continuing.
"It feels like you're the only one around here that can make things seem normal again and I think that's what everyone needs right now. A bit of normalcy… Something that at least FEELS like it might be helping.
"We screwed up Logan. We screwed up big time and Rogue's DEAD because of it. We need to do whatever we can to make sure that the next time we come up against this guy is the last. I won't lose someone I love to that madman again."
"I know how you feel Cyke, but …" Logan started, trying unsuccessfully to comfort the young man.
"Do you Logan?" Scott asked, "Do you REALLY? I'm the reason Rogue came here in the first place. She joined the X-Men because I wanted her to – because I wouldn't give up. She saved my life – from Mystique and the Juggernaut – and she saved Jean's, too."
Scott pulled on his hair again and sat on the stairs, his head falling into his hands.
"We had something Logan," he began again, finally looking up at the older man. "I don't know what it was, but Rogue and I had a … connection. It's not like with Jean. I love Jean. I'm IN love with Jean. But … I love Rogue too."
~X~
Jean was heading down the hall searching for Scott – he'd been avoiding her all day – when she heard him shouting at Logan. She was about to intervene, almost reaching the landing, when she overheard them talking about Rogue.
She almost felt guilty, spying on her boyfriend like this, but he wouldn't talk to her and she wanted to find out exactly what was ailing him. She didn't understand why he was avoiding her like this, and if being sneaky was the only way to find out then so be it.
Not that it made her feel any better, but at least she'd have some answers.
"…and Jean," the red-head overheard her boyfriend confess, "I don't know WHAT'S going on with Jean."
The girl in question frowned.
Was she really so closed off that he couldn't see what was going on with her? Sure, the girls wouldn't realize the truth, but Scott? They had a something special. They were always on the same playing field – always knew what was on the other's mind – but now… It seemed like they'd never been farther apart.
They were just… trying to deal. That had to be the problem. Neither of them had really lost someone so close to them before. Well, Scott had, but he had been so young when he lost his parents and hadn't even really remembered the incident until Xavier had helped him recover his memories.
Rogue was different though. Rogue was a friend, a teammate, a …
"But I love Rogue too," she heard Scott admit from the foyer.
With a silent gasp, Jean clasped her hands over her mouth to contain the sob that was welling up in her throat.
A secret love? THAT'S what Rogue was to him?! How had she not known? She was a telepath for Heaven's sake!
The tears pooled in Jean's eyes so quickly that she could hardly see and, not wanting to hear more about her EX-Boyfriend's love for Rogue, she levitated from the floor and flew down the hall to her room.
~X~
Logan stared down at the boy in shock, concern evident on his brow. "Are you… are you IN LOVE with Rogue?"
Scott stared off into space for a moment, trying to sort out his feelings.
"Jesus, Scott, that's… What about Jeannie?"
The boy scrubbed his face with his hands. "I don't… I don't think I'm IN LOVE with Rogue," he conceded at last. "I just... I love her Logan. She's so withdrawn from everyone that only those of us who are really special to her ever get to see the other side of her - the part she hides from everyone else. She's started to tell me stuff before, to confide in me, but… I was so wrapped up in Jean that I didn't even notice."
Scott sighed, frustrated, and jumped off the stairs again, too antsy to sit still.
"Rogue was my first recruit – I've always felt responsible for her because I was vital in getting her here. She only trusted me at first. She wouldn't really talk to anyone else. Once Jean and I started dating – right around the same time Rogue's powers went nuts – she just … closed off to me. I still don't know why exactly. Jean thought it was because she was jealous of the physical contact we were displaying, so I tried to tone it down around Rogue, but it didn't help. She still avoided me.
"God, Logan. I never knew how much it bothered me until now. When the Professor told us she … I- I started to realize that she was more than just a friend or a teammate, but she's not… I'm not in love with her, but … I'll be damned if I can figure out what she is to me."
Logan stared at the boy, who was facing the wall with his fingers locked behind his head, and finally said, "Huh."
Scott turned. "That's all you've got to say? Huh."
Logan stepped closer to the flustered young man and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Look Scott, I'm no shrink – that's what Betsy's here for – and I'm not going to try and help you sort out your emotions for Rogue when I can barely deal with mine. But, I DO know how you feel.
"Yeah, Rogue was like a daughter to me, but she was so much more than that too. I respected Rogue. Hell, I ADMIRED her. On a daily basis she dealt with shit that would send most people to a crazy house. She didn't have the best way of dealing with it, but she dealt. And, she never ONCE pawned her problems off on other people. She didn't whine and complain about it to anyone. She moped more than most, but she never wanted any sympathy or pity.
"She was strong and resilient and tough as nails," he continued. "That's not something you see in most girls her age. It's not something you see in most people, period. Rogue was special– life handed her a lot of rough deals and she still made the most of it. Maybe you're just feeling the same thing as me -pride, admiration, affection, love, whatever. Fact is, Rogue WAS more than a friend or teammate. She was… Rogue."
Scott's throat swelled up and he nodded once. Clenching his jaw to hold back the tears, he noted that Logan appeared to be doing the same. Both men's eyes were misty as they shared the silent moment of reverence for their lost friend.
Taking a deep breath, Logan finally released Scott's shoulder and turned briskly toward the elevator.
"I don't know about you, but I'm still in the mood to tear something apart. If you wanna wait on that heart-to-heart with Betsy, you're welcome t' join me in the Danger Room – IF you can keep up."
Scott grinned, watery but genuine.
"You're on."
~X~X~X~X~X~
Author's Note: "Fais dodo" is a French & Cajun lullaby. It basically translates as "Go to sleep Colas, my little brother; go to sleep, tomorrow you'll have milk. Mom is making cake upstairs, Dad is making chocolate downstairs"