END OF SUMMER:
Rogue POV
"Let me get this straight," X, also known as X-23, sat on her neatly made bed, the soft fabric of her sheets cool against her skin. The evening light poured in through the balcony doors, casting a warm glow around her, while her dark hazel eyes intently watched Rogue as she bounced onto her bed across the room. Rogue's vibrant hair framed her face as she settled comfortably near the main door, exuding her usual carefree energy. Wanda remained still on her bed near the bathroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a thoughtful expression etched across her features as she observed. "You and our fearless leader, Scott Summers fucked all summer long?"
Rogue sighed heavily, feeling the familiar weight of tension that had settled over her since the incident. She thought it might be better to address the situation head-on before Scott inevitably let the details slip, but was it fair to blame him? He hadn't breathed a word about it since that fateful night when every unspoken truth took on a life of its own.
With a hasty motion, Rogue gathered her unruly curls into a messy bun, creating some semblance of order amid her chaotic thoughts. She slipped beneath her covers, seeking solace in the confines of her bed. The gentle rustle of the sheets was a brief respite from her internal turmoil. "Yes," she murmured for what felt like the millionth time that night, her voice a weary whisper barely breaking the room's silence.
She glanced over at Wanda, who remained quiet, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Tension hung thick in the air, trapping them both in an uneasy stalemate of unspoken words.
Rogue sat with her arms crossed. She fervently wished Wanda would break the silence and offer some words.
X cleared her throat and ventured, "And… what about Gambit?"
Rogue's eyes narrowed at the mention of his name, irritation flaring. "What about him?" she demanded, her voice edged with defiance.
"He's—"
"Married!" Rogue interrupted sharply, her voice rising. "Or have yah forgotten that lil' detail? 'Cause Ah sure haven't!" The weight of her words hung in the air; a reminder of the complicated emotions tied to their tangled past.
To this day, the memory of Gambit's betrayal shatters her heart into countless fragments. She had become accustomed to the sting of betrayal, having endured the pain of people stabbing her in the back over and over. But Gambit was different; he was the person she believed would never deceive her. He had whispered sweet promises into her ear, declaring that her untouchable skin didn't matter to him— that her struggles and challenges were worth facing together. Yet, the painful truth was that he did care, but not in the way she had hoped. He vanished into the depths of the Louisiana bayou, abandoning her to marry someone else, leaving her feeling utterly forsaken.
In her moment of vulnerability, she found herself drawn to Scott. Why did she sleep with him? The answer was simple yet layered with complexity. Scott was there for her during challenging times, standing by her side as she tirelessly poured her heart and soul into learning to control her formidable powers. He was not just a friend but a coach and a pillar of support, offering encouragement when she felt lost amidst the chaos of her abilities. She felt an overwhelming need to express gratitude for all he had done, even if it meant crossing a line.
"Does Jean know?" X asked, his voice low and tentative as he leaned against the doorframe, shadows dancing across his features in the dim light.
Rogue shrugged, her expression contemplative, "Ah haven't seen her at all, couldn't tell yah." Her Southern twang added a hint of warmth to the otherwise tense atmosphere.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Wanda broke the silence with a knowing look. "She knows," her tone firm and matter of fact. "Scott couldn't keep a secret from her, even if he tried." She tapped thoughtfully on her temple, her eyes narrowing at Rogue.
Neither woman spoke as Wanda turned away. The soft click of her lamp beside her plunged the room into deeper shadows.
X offered a reassuring smile before following suit and dousing her light.
Rogue lay sprawled across her mattress, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Memories of her tormentor's junior and senior years weighed on her like a heavy blanket, pressing down with every thought. As she tried to clear her mind, she could only hope that her upcoming college experience, starting tomorrow, would be a fresh beginning.
WANDA'S POV
How could Anna-Marie be so oblivious? Of all people, it had to be Scott Summers! For years, Rogue had harbored a quiet, burning desire for him, her heart aching every time he chose to cast his affections upon Jean Grey. The anguish of unrequited love had driven her into the arms of Gambit, but that passionate entanglement had unraveled into chaos and disappointment. Yet here they were once more, Rogue ensnared in yet another whirlwind romance, her heart momentarily swept away.
But who were they trying to fool? No matter how electric and consuming this latest connection seemed, a deep-seated truth lingered in the shadows: Scott Summers would forever be drawn back to Jean, just as the seasons cyclically change from one to the next, indifferent to personal sentiments. If Rogue hoped this time would be different, she tragically deluded herself.
Wanda shook her head with a deep, frustrated sigh, attempting to ward off the swirling chaos that enveloped her. She flung open the heavy door to her room just in time to narrowly sidestep an exuberant cluster of new students hurtling down the hallway like a whirlwind, their laughter echoing off the gilded walls as they jostled each other playfully, their excitement palpable. This was the last straw—she could no longer endure the clamor. Rooming amidst such incessant turmoil was simply untenable; it was high time for her to seek out an apartment of her own.
As she brushed past the throng of energetic newcomers, Wanda steadied herself and descended the grand staircase of the mansion. The intricate carvings of the ornate banisters caught the morning light, causing the polished wood to shimmer like liquid gold beneath her touch. Each step down felt like a descent into a quieter sanctuary, her heart yearning for a peaceful retreat. Her destination was the kitchen place she envisioned as her refuge—where she hoped to find solitude and the comfort of a warm cup of coffee to steady her racing thoughts.
As she entered the kitchen, the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her warmly. The sun streamed through the window, casting a golden glow on Laura Lex. Her feet swung playfully beneath her as she shoveled crunchy cereal into her mouth.
Beside her, Logan leaned nonchalantly against the cobblestone counter, his broad shoulder propped up in a relaxed manner as he intently absorbed the morning newspaper. The wide brim of his straw cowboy hat cast a dappled shadow over his chiseled square jaw, accentuating the rugged lines of his face, while his piercing blue eyes scanned the pages with a focused intensity that suggested he was lost in thought.
With an effortless grace that filled the room with tranquility, Ororo glided in, her presence a calming force. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as she handed Wanda a steaming to-go cup, the rich, dark liquid swirling gently within. Leaning closer, Ororo tenderly brushed her lips against her husband's cheek in a soft, lingering kiss—a sweet, intimate gesture that spoke volumes of her affection and set a loving tone for the day ahead.
In the corner, Dr. McCoy sat absorbed in his work, the melodic strains of Vivaldi wafting through the air like a soothing balm. His focus remained glued to his tablet.
"Morning," Wanda greeted. Turning her attention to X, she asked, "Do you need a ride to school, or are you all set?"
"Nah, one of the others is goin' to give me a ride," Laura Lex said as she playfully patted Logan on the back. "Logan's still workin' on my bike."
He grunted in response, "If you'd stop wrappin' it around trees, I wouldn't have to keep fixin' it."
Laura crossed her arms and pouted, "That was just once!"
"Where's Rogue?" Wanda asked.
Laura shrugged, dropping her bowl into the sink, "Probably left."
A heavy silence enveloped the kitchen when Scott and Jean entered, their presence casting a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. It was as if the air had thickened, and while most of the head instructors were engrossed in their conversations, Laura was among the few who sensed the tension. Wanda, seated nearby, narrowed her eyes, grappling with her feelings. Should she be angry at Scott for his sudden appearance or direct her frustration towards Rogue? It could be an equal measure of both. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, as Rogue made her entrance.
The room collectively held its breath when Rogue strode in with an air of indifference, her green eyes fixed ahead. She stepped directly between Scott and Jean, ignoring them as though they were unimportant shadows in her path. Wanda's jaw dropped in disbelief as Rogue reached up to the cabinets, stretching her toned arms above them to retrieve a mug.
The movement accentuated her figure, raising her already short leather skirt slightly. This highlighted her muscular thighs, a testament to her strength. Meanwhile, her black mesh shirt shifted upwards, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her well-defined abdomen. Rogue's confidence was palpable, deepening the intrigue and uncertainty in the room.
In disapproval, Jean snorted, allowing Scott to scramble to close his gaping mouth.
"I see you are enjoying not having to cover up anymore."
"Careful, Jean," Wanda thought, "people might think you sound jealous."
Jean turned her scowl to Wanda when Rogue shrugged in response. "It's as refreshin' drinkin' fresh squeezed lemonade on the porch on a hot summer day."
"Amen," Hank blurted.
Laura bit her bottom lip, glancing around the room before pushing herself off the counter with quiet determination. In the corner, Rogue filled her favorite mug with steaming coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the air as she prepared for her day. With a subtle nod, she made her way to the garage, her footsteps echoing softly against the floor. Laura trailed closely behind, joined by Wanda, who walked with her usual air of calm confidence.
"I thought you were going with Lorna and Alex?" Wanda asked with a tilt of her head, hiding her knowing smile.
"And be a third wheel?" Laura shook her head, "No, thank you."
"So, you want a ride after all?"
Laura shrugged, picking up her backpack, "Better than the bus with the freshmen."
Wanda stopped in the foyer and handed off her keys to Laura, "Fine, you can take my keys. But" Her eyes narrowed to get her point across, "The moment I see a scratch on my baby, I will send you in the most gruesome way you can imagine."
Hesitantly, she took the keys and jogged ahead.
"I'm driving with you. We need to talk about your life choices." Wanda said, refusing to look at Rogue.
"No problem."
ROGUE'S POV
Rogue had anticipated that Wanda might understand enough to overlook her recent behavior and explain her actions. However, it seemed naive to think that Wanda would be so forgiving. After all, she had earned the nickname "Rogue" for a reason—she was often guarded, fiercely independent, and rarely let anyone breach her emotional walls despite the bond that developed between them as stepsisters.
Entering the bustling college parking lot, Rogue took a deep breath, scanning for a spot. "What do yah want? Yah been weird since last night."
Wanda unclipped her seatbelt and glared at Rogue. "I am not the one who slept with a guy you said you were over."
Scott Summers had been a fleeting summer romance, a moment that ignited a whirlwind of emotions. She had learned to master the lethal touch of her poisonous skin, a skill that liberated and confined her. With his charming smile and playful demeanor, Gambit had chosen someone new, leaving her heart momentarily bruised. Despite the unplanned surge of feelings, she had determinedly buried them deep within, choosing to focus on her growth and identity.
As summer's last remnants faded, casting a golden glow over their shared memories, she and Scooter prepared to part ways. The air was thick with unspoken words and unshed tears, yet beneath it all lay a sense of quiet acceptance. The season may have ended, but the lessons learned and the strength gained would linger long after.
"It's not like Scott and Ah are datin'." Rogue mumbled.
Wanda rolled her eyes and snatched her bag from the backseat. "Yeah, but you made it more difficult for yourself and Scott's relationship with Jean."
Rogue let out an exasperated sigh, her eyes rolling skyward in annoyance. Jean and Scot's relationship status was not her concern. Does she feel bad for Jean? Sure. Scott cheated on her. If she were cheated on, she'd be pissed too. But Rogue was angry when Gambit did it to her.
Her gaze sharpened as she braced herself to make a point, focusing intently on a figure that strolled past the car. A sense of familiarity washed over her, causing her heart to quicken slightly. "Gotta be kiddin' me."
Wanda, interest peaked, looked through the windshield, and she mumbled, "Pyro. What the fuck is he doin' here?"
Pyro swept his longer hair away from his face, revealing a striking transformation since Rogue had last seen him a year ago. A captivating diamond earring sparkled in his ear, catching the light with every slight movement. His chiseled jawline accentuated the maturity in his features, while the contours of his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt and the fitted legs of his pants. Wow, he looks incredibly healthy. The last time Rogue had encountered him, he was gaunt and pallid, his frame a shadow of its former self — the result of too many nights lost to drugs or alcohol. Pyro's new, vibrant version was a stark contrast, radiating energy and strength.
Through her peripheral vision, Rogue observed Wanda's gaze fixated on him, the tension in the air palpable between them. Their relationship had been a tangled web of emotions, but it had unraveled painfully, leaving scars that time had struggled to heal. An explosive confrontation had shattered their bond, ending in a chaotic and unresolved way. Despite numerous attempts to bridge the gap, Wanda remained tightly lipped-about the reasons behind their fallout, clutching her secrets like a shield.
In the aftermath of their tumultuous ending, Wanda found solace in Evan's arms, channeling her anger into this new relationship. She clung to her rage, directing her blame toward John for a tragedy that weighed heavily on her heart. It wasn't solely John's actions that had led to the loss, yet she continued to wear her resentment like armor, unable to let go of the past and the hurt it had inflicted upon her.
Snarling, Wanda looked to Rogue, "Get your shit together." Frustratedly, she opened the car door and stepped onto the pavement, her heart racing. The crisp morning air hit her face as she quickly gathered her belongings, clutching her backpack tightly. She glanced at her watch, realizing she was running late for class. She hurried across the parking lot with a determined stride, weaving through students chatting and laughing, focusing solely on reaching the lecture hall in time.
"Fucking great," Rogue grumbled and followed suit out of the car.
MALAKAI'S POV
Malakai stood at the threshold of her new classroom, her heart racing like a drum in her chest. Beads of perspiration trickled down her temple, starkly contrasting the coolness of the early morning air. Today marked the beginning of her junior year, but it felt more like an initiation into a foreign world.
As she entered the empty classroom, the silence enveloped her like a heavy blanket, amplifying the nervous energy coursing through her veins. The walls, adorned with peeling posters and a faded whiteboard, echoed the ghost of laughter and chatter from years past.
It was her first day as a Bayville Hawk, a title she had only begun to understand.
With each passing moment, her mind raced through the unvoiced fears of the day: the possibility of meeting human bigots who might judge her for being different. Malakai straightened her back, summoning the courage she hoped would carry her through the challenges ahead. Today was significant—not just a new school year but a test of her strength in an unwelcoming place.
Home used to be a place filled with joy and laughter, where she would burst through the door with an enormous smile, brimming with excitement alongside her cousins, eager to celebrate the arrival of a new year. Those moments were filled with warmth and camaraderie, a tapestry of shared memories that made her heart swell. But everything changed when her father uncovered the truth about her unique abilities. He cast her away in a heartbeat, sending her to this isolated place. Now, she finds herself alone, submerged in silence, longing for the connection she once had and the vibrant life she left behind.
Malakai inhaled deeply, summoning her courage as she went to the back of the classroom. The soft thud of her sneakers on the floor echoed slightly in the quiet space. She settled into an empty seat by the window, the sunlight streaming in, casting a warm glow on her desk. Kitty had suggested this spot was ideal since the track team would soon dash through the quad, a lively distraction to break the monotony of the day. With a swift motion, Malakai retrieved her notebook from her bookbag, the cover slightly worn, and positioned it neatly in front of her.
However, the tranquility of her moment was abruptly shattered as a pair of unfamiliar faces stepped into the room, laughter spilling from their lips like music. They exuded confidence and charm, the kind of good-looking couple that turned heads effortlessly. As they settled in, the atmosphere shifted, filled with an electric energy that made Malakai's heart race.
The petite girl, barely reaching Malakai's height, fixated her sharp, luminous eyes on her with unwavering intensity. Her dusty blonde hair was carelessly swept into a tousled bun, wisps escaping to frame her delicate features. Soft side bangs brushed against her cheeks, accentuating her face's gentle contours. Suddenly, she shifted her attention from Malakai, glancing upwards at the towering figure beside her, who casually wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.
The tall girl wore a black snapback tilted backward, the brim casting a playful shadow across her forehead. Mali inhaled sharply, momentarily captivated.
People often say that eyes are easy to overlook, but not these.
The girl's eyes sparkled like golden honey, soft and mesmerizing, luring Mali closer as if they were a sweet enchantment. They seemed to evaluate her resolve, teasing her with unspoken questions. Malakai's gaze traveled deliberately down the girl's body, tracing the intricate tattoos that adorned her skin, from the delicate curve of her collarbone down to her slender fingertips. Her baggy, knee-length shorts hinted at more ink peeking from beneath, each tattoo telling its own story.
Mali wondered what her parents thought of this bold expression. She observed the girl glide gracefully toward a chair, and the two of them slid into a cozy arrangement with their desks pushed closely together, a scene that felt intimate.
Laura Kinney, the fierce daughter of Wolverine, strode confidently into the room, her bag casually slung over one shoulder. She was engaged in light conversation with Dani Moonstar, a friendly girl hailing from the sun-soaked landscapes of Arizona—though Malakai was still familiarizing himself with everyone's names and stories.
Laura's demeanor shifted. With a keen sense of awareness, she caught a whiff of something in the air, her nose instinctively tilting upward. Her striking gaze locked onto the girl's mesmerizing blue eyes, and without hesitation, she marched determinedly towards her, each step resonating with purpose. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as ya, get an education. "The petite girl confidently slipped into her chair, her expression radiating a mischievous charm. Though her gaze cut through the room with an intensity that could spark a fire, her voice flowed like a gentle, warm, inviting melody, creating a striking contrast that drew everyone's attention.
Laura seemed unphased, "He knows you're in town?"
"Gonna tell him?"
Laura didn't answer. Instead, she sat in front of Malakai with a huff.
Dani, beside her, leaned over, "Who's that?"
Laura stole a few glances toward the couple, snarling a few curses. "My younger sister, Stahr."
"As in–"
"Yeah, Logan's daughter," Laura confirmed.
Malakai said to herself, "did not see that coming."
"And the girl beside her?"
Laura glanced at Stahr and her girlfriend, "Wouldn't know."
Malakai hummed. And let it go, for now.
Environmental science was the next subject on her schedule, and she felt a mix of anticipation and calm. The two classes that preceded it had flown by effortlessly, leaving her light-hearted. During social studies, she had stolen several glances toward Stahr and her girlfriend, feeling a spark of connection with them each time their eyes met. Still, thankfully, the classroom seemed devoid of any other familiar faces. Relieved by this absence, she hummed a cheerful tune as she gracefully made her way to the back of the classroom again, eager to settle into her favorite spot.
Wait, she's not alone.
Stahr's girlfriend reclined comfortably in the chair by the window, sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow around her. Malakai glanced down at the floor, her cheeks warming slightly, before slipping into the chair behind her. As she moved past, a soft, involuntary sigh slipped from her lips, barely audible but heavy with unspoken thoughts.
The girl exudes a sweet, inviting fragrance reminiscent of warm honey, intertwined with the earthy notes of cooking spices and a delicate hint of an unfamiliar cologne that lingers in the air. As Malakai sits in the chair, she is drawn to the intricate winged tattoo adorning her neck. Its delicate lines and curves are almost hidden beneath the cascade of her brown hair, which softly drapes over the artwork, adding an air of mystery to her presence.
"Yer starin'." She said, shocking Malakai out of her trance.
Unlike Stahr, whose voice had a casual lilt, Malakai's tone rasped with purposeful strength, each word reverberating slowly and deliberately. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she averted her gaze to the pages of her notebook. Her voice was a mere whisper when she replied, "Sorry," the embarrassment evident in her timid expression.
When she mustered the courage to raise her eyes again, she was captivated by the extraordinary depth of those honey-amber eyes. A rush of heat coursed through her as she realized that this woman spoke with a fierce intention and seemed to gaze into her soul with an intensity that rendered her breathless. Malakai instinctively clenched her legs together, acutely aware of the connection woven between them in that charged moment.
"What's yer name?"
"M-Malakai."
Genuinely smiling from ear to ear, showing off her perfectly white and straight teeth, she said, "Nice to meet ya, M-Malakai. Nice to meet ya. I'm Lyla Creed."
Creed.
Creed. Why does that sound familiar?
Stahr, Laura's sister, gracefully entered the room with a striking model Esque blonde at her side, her lengthy hair shimmering like spun gold. As Stahr settled onto the plush seat beside Lyla, the blonde, with an air of effortless charm, positioned herself next to Malakai. Engaging Stahr with animated conversation, her vibrant energy filled the space. In a moment of gratitude for the delightful distraction, Malakai reached into her spacious bag, rummaging for a pen, only to find herself face-to-face with Lyla again. The unexpected proximity brought a flicker of surprise to both expressions, creating a brief but palpable connection.
"Y-yes?" Mali pushed back into her chair.
"Ain' ya gonna say, 'Nice to meet ya,' or is it unpleasant to meet me?"
Malakai summoned a smile as the classroom bell chimed, signaling the teacher's arrival confidently behind her desk. The moment felt charged, particularly as she was entranced by Lyla's piercing gaze, which held her captive. Unbeknownst to her, the room was bustling with energy; all her X-Men roommates were settled in the second and third rows, some glancing her way with raised eyebrows, their curiosity evident.
Malakai remained oblivious to their watchful eyes as she fixed her attention ahead, her expression unwavering. She shook off the intrigue of her gaze and grabbed and flipped open her notebook. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling of Lyla's intense focus; she hadn't once turned away.
"Nice to meet you, Lyla Creed."
Content with the answer she had received, Lyla returned to Stahr and the model. The trio seemed to exist in their world, utterly oblivious to the classroom buzz around them. The chatter of classmates and the faint rustle of paper went unnoticed as they engaged in a conversation that felt important to them. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, yet the day's agenda was simply just introductions and light banter. The real work, the challenging and engaging tasks that awaited them, was set to commence tomorrow.
As the sharp clang of the bell echoed through the hallways, signaling the end of the class, Malakai hurriedly gathered her books and scattered papers, tucking them neatly into her worn backpack. Just then, Lyla sauntered, casually leaning against Malakai's desk with a playful smirk. At the same time, Stahr stood next to her, arms crossed tightly against her chest, exuding an air of confidence that contrasted with the chaos of the classroom.
"What class you got next?" Stahr asked.
Malakai blinked and shrugged, "Ummm…geometry."
Lyla whistled, "Easy. Have fun with that."
"I don't think math is fun," Malakai mumbled, throwing her bag on her shoulder. She walked in time with Stahr and Lyla. The model left down the hall.
"No one does except for her." Lyla gently shoved Stahr with her arm, snorting. Stahr didn't think it was funny and shoved Lyla harder. Rooted like the tree she is, she barely moved.
"Physics is an excellent science."
"Too much math if ya ask me."
"That's why no one asked ya," Stahr snapped. "Welp, I got gym with this one; nice meeting you, Mali." She took Lyla by the hand and dragged her down the hall. Lyla winked at Malakai before focusing on walking.
"Careful with them."
Laura walked behind her. "Stahr is dangerous and conniving, and something about her girlfriend doesn't smell right."
Who is she to argue with her? Family knows you better than anyone.
LAURA POV
"Stop! Stop! "Logan's deep, gravelly growl reverberated through the intercom, echoing ominously beneath the high, gleaming dome of the Danger Room. With a confident flick of her wrist, Laura sheathed her razor-sharp claws, her keen gaze drifting upward toward the observation skybox. Wolverine and the core roster of the X-Men leaned forward, their eyes fixated on the trainees below, scrutinizing their every move. The young mutants were immersed in learning how to guide and mentor their less experienced peers.
With her smirk, Rogue and Wanda exuded an air of authority. They eagerly claimed Laura as their mentee, their bond forming like an unbreakable tether amidst the training chaos. Yet, amidst the flurry of camaraderie, a palpable tension lingered. No one seemed eager to take on Bobby and Alex, the troublesome duo; the two knuckleheads were stuck in a relentless tug-of-war over Lorna, Wanda's younger sister, whose very name sparked rivalry and competition among them.
Today's events unfolded in a way that left no blame on anyone else; the weight rested squarely on Laura's shoulders. She was not entirely the person she once was—how could she be? Her younger sister had come to town, stirring a whirlwind of emotions and memories. Her last glimpse of Stahr was years ago, during a tumultuous time in Hydra, where the shadows of the past lingered heavily. Both sisters had endured the cold, unforgiving experiments of the Weapon X division, an experience that had forever altered their lives and identities.
Stahr broke out before her. How? She's unsure. Laura wants to know. Does Logan know of another kid running around? And if so, how would he feel about her benign in town, avoiding him?
Logan's intense glare stayed on her, "Hit the showers. X. You stay."
As Malakai made her way toward the locker room, Laura felt the reassuring squeeze of a hand on her shoulder, a gesture of support that instilled a sense of camaraderie before her teammate slipped away into the throng of the group. She took a moment to stretch out her shoulders, feeling the tension at ease as she waited for Logan to make his way down with his characteristic, determined stride.
Rogue and Wanda exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity, before shifting their attention to Scott and Jean Grey. The atmosphere grew as Jean's piercing gaze locked onto Rogue; a silent confrontation evident in the brimming intensity of her glare.
Is she surprised? No.
She'd want to gut her like a fish if it were her man. But Laura supports all her friends' rights and wrongs.
Finally, the heavy doors creaked open, revealing Logan's sturdy black combat boots, scuffed and worn from countless escapades. A moment later, a pungent cloud of cheap cigar smoke wafted in, clinging to the air with its acrid odor, a stark reminder of Logan's unapologetic demeanor. "What's the problem?" He grumbled.
Laura tilted her head to the side, "Promised, I wouldn't say." She never assured Stahr that she would keep her lips sealed about their secret from Logan. On any ordinary day, the thought of watching him writhe in discomfort would bring her a thrill. But today was different; with children lingering in the back of her mind—children he might not even recall—she held the power to shatter his world. The prospect of dismantling his carefully curated life and tearing apart his bond with Storm danced enticingly in her thoughts.
Not believing her, he grunted, "Tell me."
"Dad." She warned, but he didn't stand down.
His eyes narrowed, "Tell. Me."
She took a deep breath.
Fine.
Treading carefully, "Do you remember all of your kids with your mem–"
He tilts his head, thinking, "Yeah, I have a son named Daken. Then you. And–" Logan blinked, trying to think. "A daughter…I was with Alpha Flight on a mission, and she was ripped from her mother's arms. Sarah. I don't remember how she died."
Stahr told her about her mother's gruesome death. They were up one night, almost unable to sleep after their mission. A family of four, and she erased them from the earth. She crossed her legs on her bed, blankly stared at the wall, and thought Laura needed to know about her sister.
"When was the last time you talked to her?" She asked him; even if he remembered, she knew he hadn't talked to her in years.
He shrugged, "Don' remember."
"Welp," She swung on her toes and heels, "Stahr's in town."
Logan, the ever-stone wall, stared at her—blank expression, "Where?"
She shrugged, "She didn't offer all that to me. And before you ask me where I saw her…school." Laura patted him on his shoulder and headed into the locker room. It sucks to lose your memory. For years, she wished she had received the same fate as Logan. Not able to remember the horrors of Hydra and Weapon X, the torture. But, at the same time, not being able to piece life together and where one comes from is also sad and depressing.
In the locker room, Malakai sat on the bench, dressed in her sweats, "How'd he take it?"
"He's going to be at the school tomorrow."
She's uncertain whether she truly relishes the feeling of being right.
Logan, the self-proclaimed father of the year, casually leaned against his all-black Harley Davidson motorcycle. He was a dark, imposing figure against the backdrop of the bustling schoolyard. His piercing, beady eyes scanned the sea of students, each a blur of motion, as he searched for a glimpse of his daughter. Does he remember the way she looked? Or her faint scent?
Beside him, Laura stood with her backpack slung over her shoulder, her expression a mix of anticipation and resignation, as she silently shared in his watchful gaze. The late morning sun cast long shadows on the ground, highlighting the tension as they awaited a reunion that felt uncertain, even in its familiarity.
Stahr navigated her way between her towering friend, a giant with a cold demeanor, and a boy with striking platinum blonde hair that seemed to shimmer in the light. His goofy grin, wide and infectious, prompted Stahr to roll her eyes playfully at whatever silly comment had just slipped from his lips.
"That's–"
"I know," Logan huffed softly, watching as his daughter trudged up the school's main staircase, her backpack sagging under the weight of books. Leaning against the weathered brick wall beside the double doors was their striking friend, a vision in the morning light. Laura vaguely remembered hearing her name in science class but had utterly forgotten it, the details slipping away like grains of sand.
Logan surprised her by remaining still, his posture relaxed and calm. She expected him to stomp on her and say anything to break the tension. Instead, he stole one last glance at her, a fleeting moment of contemplation, before hopping onto his bike, securing his helmet with a practiced motion. The quiet clatter of his bike's gears echoed in the stillness, marking the end of that encounter. "See ya after school, kid."
Just then, she noticed Rogue pulling up, her sedan crunching over the gravel near a sprawling oak tree. Wanda climbed out of the vehicle, her vibrant hair catching the sunlight as she leaned her head on the passenger door, a pensive expression on her face. Meanwhile, Rogue emerged from the car and took a few purposeful steps forward, positioning herself in front of the vehicle. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the area, focused intently on someone in the distance. But who could it be that had captured her attention so ultimately?
Rogue couldn't believe the bombshell Laura dropped on her and Wanda last night. It was like a puzzle missing key pieces that suddenly revealed a baffling picture. Although the names didn't immediately ring a bell, the descriptions of her siblings sparked a flood of memories. Standing under the sprawling shade of an ancient oak tree, she watched with disbelief and curiosity as her younger sister and brother conversed animatedly with… Regan Wyngarde? What in tarnation is going on here?
The last time she saw Scutter and Lyla was a few years ago, during a chaotic period that led to Irene taking them in. Lyla was just 12 then, a sprightly girl with dreams too big for her small frame, while Scutt was a mischievous 10-year-old, always looking for trouble. They had grown into young adults, their faces more mature yet somehow still familiar. Memories of laughter and sibling fights surfaced, intertwined with the weight of the years that had passed.
Rogue leaned closer, straining to catch snippets of their conversation. It felt surreal, watching them reconnect in a world fraught with complications and unexpected twists. What had happened to them during their years apart? And what was Regan's role in all of this? Questions swirled in her mind, but one thing was clear: the family she had longed to understand was standing just a few feet away, and she was ready to bridge the gap between them once Mama finally dropped them off in the sultry embrace of Mississippi, Rogue found that her bond with Lyla had grown tenuous. Instead, she and Scutt became a formidable duo, their companionship marked by laughter and shared secrets. Though Rogue's goth persona exuded an air of darkness, Scutt insisted she was disarmingly friendly and open-hearted, challenging the typical Southern stereotypes he often encountered. He likened Lyla to sour candy, which might be enjoyable for a fleeting moment but ultimately left an unpleasant aftertaste. Rogue couldn't help but concur with his assessment.
As Lyla distanced herself from the ongoing conversation, her nose tilted upward haughtily as if to assert her superiority. Suddenly, her gaze caught a familiar scent, and her cold glare locked onto Rogue's dark emerald-green stare. Time seemed to freeze; neither girl relented. Each held their ground in a fierce staring contest, silently daring the other to speak first.
"Are you going to talk to her?" Wanda asked in the background.
Scutter keenly sensed Lyla's sudden withdrawal from the conversation, a change that piqued his curiosity. His gaze swept toward Rogue, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. A wide grin stretched across his face as the thrill of mischief took hold. Before Lyla could reach out to catch him, Scutter bolted down the staircase, his tiny feet thundering against the steps, and leaped into Rogue's waiting arms, a burst of laughter escaping him as he did. "Roguey!" He shouted.
She returned his enthusiastic embrace, warmly enveloping him as she gently kissed his tousled hair, the soft strands beneath her lips. Pulling him slightly away to gaze into his eyes, a radiant smile blossomed on her face, illuminating her features with pure affection. "Look at you, bud! You're all grown-up!"
He bowed his head to hide his embarrassment and then looked past her shoulder to Wanda, waving.
"What y'all doin' in town?" Rogue asked him.
His head snapped up, "Ma didn' call ya?"
Rogue shook her head.
"Ly' and I are–"
"Here fo' school." Lyla positioned herself protectively between Rogue and Scutter, her expression vacant yet intense. Her gaze lingered on Rogue, the weight of unspoken thoughts simmering before drifting to Wanda. Unintimidated by her baby sister, Rogue stared back, "yah, grew."
Lyla shrugged. "Nice to see you, Roguey." She then turned on her heel and grabbed Scutter by the scruff of his collar, dragging him back up the steps to the school before the bell rang.
"When's the last time yah talked to Pietro?" Rogue asked, her gaze following Lyla and her little group.
Wanda perked a brow, "I try to avoid him at all costs. Why?"
The puzzle pieces began to fit together like an intricate jigsaw. Initially, they spotted Pyro on the sprawling college campus, his presence radiating unmistakable energy. Then came Wyngarde, flanked by Rogue's sister and brother, each distinct in their demeanor yet united in their purpose. With her keen intuition, Mama rarely brought out the youngest of her children unless there was a deeper intention at play—an ulterior motive lurking beneath the surface.
She got in the car, huffing, "We gotta get back to the mansion. The Brotherhood is back in town and worse than ever before."
