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Chapter 20 of
A Simple Favor:
On May 25th, 2002, Rogue stretched sleepily and let out a yawn as the sound of small wheels against the floor's tiles roused her from sleep. She heard a book close as she blinked a few times, her eyes needing to adjust to the bright light of the room. Once fully open, she saw that the Professor was using his telekinesis to pull a small food cart into the infirmary. The cart was loaded with various items; a pitcher of water, a pitcher of iced tea, a small ice bucket, a soup pot covered with a lid, a ladle, a plate holding a few cold-cut sandwiches on white bread cut into halves, and a stack of empty plates, bowls, cups, spoons, and napkins.
"Apologies, Rogue, I didn't mean to wake you, but I thought you both might be hungry," the Professor said as he positioned the cart between him and Magneto.
"Very thoughtful of you," Magneto said, his accent present once more, placing the novel back in his bag. He then stood to help the Professor with their lunch- dinner?
"What time is it?" she asked, hiding another yawn behind her hand, as Magneto leaned over by the side of her bed. She felt a spike of sharp pain at the side of her head while he adjusted the top portion of the bed into an upright position. She winced a bit as noise, light, and movement all ganged up on her with intent to leave a mark; her head was killing her.
"It's half past four," the Professor answered, his voice naturally soft and soothing, as he picked up a glass and filled it with water. Magneto walked to the other side of the bed and lifted the bed's tray, sliding it into place in front of her. Both of them were intent on making certain she remained well tended to, and she failed to notice how Magneto seemed especially focused on being a part of the Professor's delivery.
"Thank you," she said before blinking as she realized with a quick glance at a clock. "Can't believe I slept all day," she grumbled as the Professor handed Magneto the glass of water. He placed it on the tray and gestured towards it with his head. She nodded as she picked up the glass and took a small sip.
"As did I," the Professor said with a rueful smile as he retrieved a bowl from the pile and the ladle. Magneto reached over and lifted the cover off of the soup pot. "You needed the rest," he added as he gave Magneto an appreciative nod before ladling a portion of soup into a bowl.
"How are you feeling?" Magneto asked as the Professor handed him the bowl. He placed it in front of her on the tray before he took a spoon from the cart.
"My head still hurts and my skin is itchy," she reported as Magneto handed her the spoon. She noticed the soup was a simple chicken noodle, which was mostly broth.
"Really?" Magneto asked, curiously as he lifted a plate from the pile and put one of the sandwich halves onto it, before placing it on the tray for her.
"Ah-huh," she answered.
"It's another hour, I'm afraid, until you can take more ibuprofen," the Professor said as she let out a groan of protest. "I know," he said empathically, he filled two glasses with ice and cold, sweetened tea as Magneto filled their bowls with soup. "Try to eat something first," he said, gesturing towards the food in front of her.
"Yeah, okay," she sighed as she picked up the spoon. "How far did ya get?" she asked Magneto as he and the Professor settled down to eat as well, both of them using one side of the cart as their table.
"Well, I know Jonathan Harker is still alive," Magneto said as he and the Professor picked up a sandwich each. The Professor handed Magneto a small plate for his sandwich. She couldn't help but smile before she took a sip of her soup. "Stoker did an excellent job convincing his audience he was dead. I honestly thought the child was doomed due to his encounter with the count," he commented as Rogue and the Professor bit into their sandwiches - it was turkey, cheese, and lettuce. Simple, easy fare for people recovering from an arduous ordeal.
"Yeah, last time we were talking, I realized and I didn't wanna spoil the plot of ya," she said.
"I was wondering how you knew what chapter I was on," Magneto smiled at her and she couldn't help but return his kind expression.
"So, where's he now?" Rogue asked before taking another sip of her soup.
"Convalescing in an infirmary," he answered and she couldn't help but snort in response, which caused another sharp pain to emerge on the side of her head. She dropped her spoon into the bowl as her hands gripped her head. She let out a hiss as she was splashed with hot soup. It wasn't hot enough to cause her any harm, just unpleasantness compounding with the pain she was already in. Magneto quickly stood as he grabbed a couple of napkins from the cart. "Being waited upon hand and foot while they recover from their frightening ordeal," he commented, his eyes flaring as he handed her one.
"Jonathan was just doing his job," she said, avoiding his gaze as she blotted away the excess liquid from the front of her shirt.
"Is that a fact?" Magneto asked with a wry smile as he leaned over her and dabbed at the sides of her pillow, where the soup had splashed.
Normally him being this close would cause her to blush, but this time she felt uneffected. Maybe it was because her head hurt? Or because the Professor was in the room? Or maybe his rejection had put the possibility out of her mind. This whole situation was so surreal, two great enemies and their object of attention between them, while she convalesced.
"As a solicitor," she added. "I don't think anything that happened was his fault," she said as he pulled back.
"I never said it was," Magneto commented as he sat down again, tossing the napkins into an empty spot on the cart. "I didn't get much further than that," he continued as he picked up his sandwich. "I thought I'd missed something, so I reread it from the beginning," he said before taking a bite.
"Max, on your second reading, did you pick up on any of the nuances in chapter seven?" the Professor asked. Her eyes darted to Magneto, who just shrugged as he chewed.
"You've read Dracula?" Rogue couldn't help but ask.
"After watching you and Kitty in the school musical, I was curious about the source material," he answered. She and Magneto shared a look before she watched him turn back to the Professor.
"What nuances?" Magneto asked as Rogue nibbled at her sandwich.
"You see, Dracula fabricated the ship's log of the Demeter, all to secure himself safe and undetectable passage to London," he explained as she switched back to her soup, deciding to enjoy it before it went cold. Or before she splashed anymore on herself. "A choice I always found rather interesting. At that point in the story, Dracula wasn't at war with anyone. It all seemed a bit… superfluous," he commented.
"Okay, but-" Rogue said before she looked at him. "I don't think you're up to this part," she said he waved his hand at her dismissively and she continued, "The audience didn't know about Van Helsing yet, but Dracula did," she said.
"Who's Van Helsing?" Magneto asked her.
"Vampire hunter," Rogue answered before she took another spoonful of soup. She watched his eye flare, dropping his sandwich to his plate, he turned to engage the Professor.
"Well, then, obviously, he had to act with caution," Magneto said. "As Rogue implied, simply because the audience is unaware of the potential threats to the Count doesn't negate his motivation to avoid detection from any who would hurt his kind," he said.
"Yes, but I would argue that acting in that manner, all but guarantees the necessity for secrecy," the Professor said.
"And you would purpose what?" Magneto asked. "Announcing his presence, for all the world to see?" he asked.
"No, I wouldn't have chosen to inform the entire planet of vampires' existence," the Professor said, his tone having a hint of scolding to it. "However, Jonathan Harker, for better or worse, chose to entreat Dracula under friendly terms, despite the apparent threat Dracula could pose to him. It could be argued that had Dracula chosen to engage Harker's family with the same level of civility that perhaps hostilities of any kind would be uncalled for," he said.
"Harker's family may be reasonable but what of the government they're beholden to?" he asked. "What if this Van Helsing demanded the Count's head?" he asked.
"For what? The Count hasn't done anything too egregious," The Professor said.
"That the Harker family is aware of. However, the count has lived a long life and is much older than he appears. Jonathan Harker having spent time in Transylvania knows of some of the crimes the Count committed in his past," he said.
"I see," The Professor said thoughtfully as he took a large bite of his sandwich. He glanced up at her while he chewed. "Well," he said after swallowing, turning back to Magneto, "if given the choice we can hope the Harker's family would follow Mina's example," he said. Rogue watched a look of confusion cross Magneto's face.
"I don't think he's up to that part yet," Rogue said. "When Jonathan was recovering in the infirmary, Mina had access to his journal," she told him.
"Yes and had she chosen to, she could have disregarded his privacy but didn't," the Professor said.
"She wasn't tempted?" Magneto asked.
"Of course, she was," the Professor answered at once. "For months, Mina had no news of how Jonathan spent his time with the Count. Her curiosity about this mysterious man, so much older than him, expressing any sort of interest in him was to be expected. And although, at one point, her curiosity may have been fueled by envy. Ultimately, I believe Mina's actions were driven by concern for Jonathan's welfare. This is why, once he was in front of her and there were no barriers preventing her from learning all he had endured while entreating the Count, she chose to protect his secrets and by extension Dracula's," he finished.
Rogue opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. She was conflicted. On the one hand, she really wanted to believe the Professor's sincerity, but on the other-
"What is it?" Magneto asked her.
"Ya know, she does eventually read the journal without telling Jonathan," she said.
"Does she really?" Magneto asked with a raised eyebrow.
"That was only because Dracula's sudden reappearance in their lives scared poor Jonathan out of their wits," the Professor quickly countered. "However, if the count was greeted as a friend, if Mina, in turn, had invited Dracula to, let's say, a pleasant lunch or perhaps an early dinner. I very much doubt Mina would have had cause to disregard Jonathan's privacy. Again, her concern was for his welfare. And I will stand by that argument," he said firmly.
"As riveting as this discussion is," Magneto said, sharing a glance with her. "I will have to finish the novel before I can form an opinion, one way or the other," he said.
"A fair assessment," The Professor conceded. "I'll leave you to it," he said. "I'll come back down for this later," he told them both. "Oh and Rogue, Magneto still owes you a favor, does he not?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, a little uneasy.
"You might want to consider asking if you could borrow his helmet or if he could produce one for you to use while you sleep," he said.
"I doubt that would be comfortable," Magneto pointed out.
"Perhaps not, but better than being enslaved by Mesmero," he retorted. "Alternatively, I could put up a mental barrier in your mind. That would require you to allow me to enter it. And while I would gladly do so, I understand that I am still regaining your trust. And that this will take time," he said as he maneuvered his chair towards the exit. "It's just a suggestion. You're free to do with it what you will," he said as he exited the room.
Rogue let out a sigh of relief, grateful the nuances could finally be dropped. Magneto held his hand up, asking her not to speak yet. It was a few more moments before he lowered it and she was assured the Professor was now out of earshot. Once he had, she held his gaze.
"We are really bad at hiding this," Rogue said before he broke out into laughter. She wanted to join him, but as the slightest chuckle left her, her headache intensified.
"I know, dear, but I'd still prefer to keep our admissions vague," he said. She let out a sigh at that, but understood his reasoning.
"Yeah, I don't trust him fully either," she said and he nodded in agreement. "I'm still glad he ain't the one who was entering my mind," she said.
"Yes, that leaves us with another problem, doesn't it?" he asked.
"Yeah," she sighed. She was tempted to ask for his help with Mesmero, but her mind flashed to her mother in the bathroom that day at Bayville, the last time she'd called in a favor from him and she thought better of it. 'No, I'll give Prof a chance to help me, regain my trust like he wants. No one'll get hurt that way,' she thought to herself.
"Anna-Marie?" he asked. Her gaze shifted up to his. "Are you alright?" he asked. "You were a bit green in the face a moment ago," he elaborated, most likely in response to her expression.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she said.
He raised an eyebrow for a moment before asking, "Do you want a helmet?"
"That would be pretty obvious," she said, her mind crossing over her past use of his powers, how his entire uniform was made of- "Hey, could you make me a hoodie, instead?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"Out of magnetic fibers?" she elaborated. "I could put the hood up when I sleep and even wear it when I'm out. No one would know," she said.
"I've never-" he said before cutting himself off as he glanced away from her. "The metal I employ for the helmet is rather particular," he commented.
"But it's still metal. You can manipulate it however ya want, right?" she asked as his expression was blank. "I mean, ya know the process ya use to make that kinda metal, right? Just do that and then turn 'em inta fibers after," she suggested.
"I'd never- well, I can certainly try," he said.
"Thanks, Max," she said before she felt the need to close her eyes again. As she settled down for more rest, she heard Max rummage through his bag, retrieving the book, she assumed. She fell asleep to the sounds of his soft chewing and shuffle of turning pages.
On May 25th 2002, Magneto sat in his base as he toiled over a stubborn batch of magnetic fibers. The process to create this differed from the pieces he used to make his helmet. That metal was tiresome enough to fabricate, but then to turn that slab of metal into something wearable? His uniform was breathable but utterly rigid. It suited him fine, but the girl's garment was meant to be comfortable, damn it all.
'Perhaps sleep is in order,' he considered as he glanced up at the clock and saw it was well into the new day and he hadn't slept a wink since leaving the Institute at 9:30 pm. He continued to play with the slab as- 'That could work,' he thought as he drew out a paper-thin string of metal from the slab. 'Yes, like thread,' he thought, eying the piece of metal. A yawn escaped him as he realized how tedious this process would be.
"But what's the alternative?" he huffed. Disappointing Anna-Marie? No, he wouldn't have that. The girl was counting on him.
Instead, he stood, needing another cup of coffee for the arduous task ahead of him.
It was going to be a long night.
On May 26th 2002, Rogue laid in the bed in the infirmary, a soft smile on her face, her eyes blissfully closed, as the Professor read to her. Her head was starting to feel better. Her skin was still itchy, not in a painful way. More like after a day of being out in the sun, her skin felt irritated, like it had since the first time she woke up in the infirmary. Thankfully, she was starting to tune the feeling out and ignore it. Reading really was such a nice way to pass the time. Even more so, since the Professor had produced a copy of Dracula.
"Mina Harker's Journal, twenty-nine, September," the Professor, which prompted Rogue to snort, as she had every other time the Professor had read one of Mina's sections. Which had been often enough as they were in the middle of page 205. A sigh short let him, but he didn't comment on her reaction. At this point, it was unnecessary.
"After I had tidied myself," he continued to read. "I went down to Dr. Seward's study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him talking with someone. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I knocked at the door, and on his calling out, 'Come in,' I entered," he read.
Rogue nestled further into her pillow. The Professor's voice was warm, hearing him recite her favorite book was like being wrapped in a cozy blanket. She was so at ease, yet completely awake, just enjoying the experience. Despite not holding the books in her own hands, she could see it in her mind's eye. She may as well have been holding it herself as she read along with the Professor, delighting in his interruption of the text. Some of the inflections he chose were so different from had she'd read it.
"To my intense surprise, there was no one with him," the Professor continued. "He was quite alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much interested. 'I hope I did not keep you waiting,' I said, 'but I stayed at the door as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone with you.'"
"'Oh,'" Rogue quoted with a smile, feeling the urge to participate. "I was only entering my diary," she read from own recollection of the book, her eyes still closed.
"'Your diary?'" the Professor asked, playing into the role, with a genuine sounding amount of surprise in his tone as he read Mina's dialogue.
"Yes, I keep it in this," Rogue quoted.
"As he spoke he laid his hand on the phonograph," the Professor read. "I felt quite excited over it, and blurted out, 'Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?'" his voice has a sort of excited and curious energy to it, capturing how she heard Mina's voice in her head when she'd read the book by herself.
"Certainly," Rogue quoted the dialogue and then paused so the Professor could read the accompanying description.
"We'll take turns," the Professor said. "Please recite the paragraph in its entirety?" he asked. "If you can," he added a moment later. She felt her nose crunch up at that. Why wouldn't she be able to? She'd read the book, hadn't she?
"'Certainly', he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his face. 'The fact is,' he began awkwardly, 'I only keep my diary in it, and as it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it may be awkward, that is, I mean…' He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his embarrassment," Rogue recited from the text.
"'You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died, for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, very dear to me,'" the Professor quoted.
"To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face, 'Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world,'" Rogue exclaimed.
"'Why not?'" the Professor said before they both heard the elevator go off, alerting them to someone entering the infirmaries sub-level. Rogue eyes flew open. "It appears you have a visitor," he said kindly as he snapped the book closed. "We'll pick this up later," he said pleasantly. "Oh," he groaned as he glanced down at the book and she looked at him.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I closed this too soon. Do you remember what page we were on?" he asked.
"Two-oh-five," she answered quickly, recalling-. "Oh, wait, no," she said once she had the page up in her mind's eye. "Two-oh-six," she corrected as she watched the Professor flip open the book. With confusion, she watched a look of astonishment cross his features before he promptly snapped the book closed again. "Prof?" she asked.
"We'll continue this later," he said pleasantly before Magneto entered the room, donning his usual disguise with the notable addition of a white gift bag in his hand. "Good afternoon, Max," he said as she gave him a short wave herself. "You come bearing presents, I see," he commented as Magneto came to her other side, moving a chair as he sat across from the Professor, beside the bed. Rogue took that moment to sit up fully, in anticipation of his gift.
"I was out, picking up a souvenir for myself, for my latest visit, when I came across this," he said as he handed her the bag. Rogue peered inside of it and held in a laugh as she pulled out a hoodie.
"How very… red," the Professor deadpanned.
"And soft," Rogue said in amazement as she held the material to her cheek. It felt silky and luxurious almost. The thread count must have been- "This must've taken you all night," she realized aloud, bearing in the mind the process he must've used to make it. "To find," she amended, glancing up at Max, adding the last bit for the sake of a ruse they all knew the details of. Still, she'd kept to it as long as Magneto asked her to. That was the deal.
"Well worth the effort, I assure you," Max replied kindly.
"Thank you," she said as earnestly as she could muster, a smile on her face. "Oh, I'm putting this on right now," she declared under her breath and she heard Max chuckled to himself as she did just that, pulling the garment over her head and getting it situated. "It's got pockets!" she exclaimed happily as she stuck both of her hands into them.
They weren't for show either, like some dinky fold only half her hand could fit into. No, these fully engulfed her hands, wrists and a decent part of her forearm. She could hold her wallet and some other items in these with ease, eliminating her need for a bag. That would be nice on the weekends when she didn't need her backpack.
"Well, I thought the garb should serve some practical purpose outside of attire," Magneto commented.
"I think we all know you've achieved your objective," the Professor said as he turned his chair. "I'm going on to the library. I need to do some research on eidetic memory," he said heading toward the door.
"What's that?" Rogue asked, looking at Magneto as the Professor's back was turned to her.
"It's when someone can recall every instance of their past with utter clarity," Magneto answered for him.
"Ain't that just how memory works?" Rogue asked, her nose crunching up again with a slight sense of confusion.
"No, it is not," the Professor said from the middle of the doorframe. "And I'll ask you both to pay me a favor and refrain from discussing the matter further until I return. Please and thank you," he said, exiting, leaving no room for discourse.
Rogue glanced at Magneto and just shrugged. Though the Master of Magnetism's eyes were darting back and forth, he was deep in thought, before he closed them all together.
After a long moment, his eyes refocused on her and Rogue braced herself to enforce the Professor's reasonable request.
"It works, thank heaven," he commented, relieved and she blinked.
"Right, you couldn't test it alone," she realized. "Ya couldn't get in?" she asked.
"Thankfully, no," he smiled. "Given this victory, would you mind terribly if I slept?" he asked.
"Huh?" she asked, laughing slightly in surprise before- "Oh, ya didn't get a lot a sleep did ya?" she asked empathically.
"Not a wink," he admitted and she wondered if the Image Inducer was hiding shadows under his eyes.
"Think we could both nap?" she asked, glancing around the room, her eyes on the second bed within the infirmary.
"As long as you're wearing the garment, I see no issue with it," he said as he stood, walking toward the second bed. He hopped up on it, as she pulled the hood over her head and soon both of them were closing their eyes.
However-
"Would ya mind-" She didn't have to finish her sentence before the lights in the infirmary and in the hallway were switched off, rending the room in soothing darkness. "Thanks, Max."
"You're welcome, Anna-Marie," he said, a yawn leaving him and then, almost immediately, a soft snoring. She held in a snort as she settled back down against the pillow and the soft material of the hoodie over her head.
She blinked a moment, becoming utterly conscious just how comfortable she was with Max and how at ease she was in his company. This wouldn't be the first time she fell asleep with him in the room. And something told her it wouldn't be the last.
She closed her eyes, smiling, once again glad they were stuck with one another.
On Friday morning, May 31st 2002, Magneto sat in his workshop, he was in his uniform, minus his helmet and cape, toying with a batch of magnetic fibers. After the girl had inadvertently helped him develop the technique of using magnetic fibers to make practical articles of clothes, those that could bend in a crowd, he had found himself with the desire to create new designs; ones that suited his needs.
Currently, he was working on a cap, one he would wear out and about, knowing his mind would be protected without the use of his helmet. The work was tedious and tiresome, but worth the effort. He wondered if the article had to be red. Or if he could change the color of the metal to a less flashy hue.
'But would that diminish the effect of the metal's protection?' he pondered. Only way to test that would be if he or Anna-Marie wore the hat, while one of them attempted to astral project into the other's mind. All he'd have to do was ask Rogue for a favor- she would be happy to oblige. He knew that.
He felt a smile tugging at his lips. He really did like that girl.
Speaking of Rogue, he really should check in with her. The last time he was physically at the Institute, he and Anna-Marie had slept the day away. Charles had roused them for dining and the topic of Rogue's eidetic memory had been broached, however brief it was. His old friend had asked for Rogue's indulgence, that he would like to explore this avenue of her powers with him. Rogue, knowing Charles was attempting to regain her trust, had agreed, allowing him the opportunity to prove himself.
The mind really was Charles' area of expertise, not his. Perhaps it was better left with him. Still-
Magneto summoned his cell phone to his hand and paused as he heard a knock on the door.
"Magneto?"
"Come in," he answered, placing the phone down for a moment to give Pyro his attention. "Yes, what is it?"
"It's Gambit. He hasn't made contact," he informed him. Charles had the right idea, placing barriers in his students' minds. With Rogue no longer as an option for possession, one had to wonder what Mesmero would attempt next.
"Hmm?" he hummed as he stood, calling his helmet to his hand and summoning his cape behind him. 'If Mesmero has switched targets, there will be hell to pay,' he thought as he placed his helmet on his head and he reattached his cape to its rightful place.
Hey all! Hope you liked this chapter!
I hereby reserve the right to update any of my fics at any time. Has it been over a year since I posted a chapter? Yup! Does that mean the fic is abandoned? Nope! The plots are never gone, sometime they just need some time to marinate. Reviews would be appericated!