“It’s a mission, if you think you’re ready for it,” Storm explained later. “Low risk, just a meet-and-greet situation. You and Bobby will be traveling into New York City to meet with a potential new student, and give him the introduction to what this school can offer him. Do you think you’re ready?”
“Sounds easy enough. Does Logan know about this mission?” Rogue knew he would be crazy with worry if he knew she was going back out on missions without her mutation, and without him and his protective nature and healing ability. Sometimes ignorance was bliss, but it was also easier.
“No. Logan is on a medical leave of absence, even though he doesn’t know it yet.” Storm grinned knowingly at Rogue, “I’m no fool. I’ll ease him into that subject after he’s had some time to recuperate. Briefing at sixteen thirty, my office.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rogue slipped into Logan’s room with a tray of food just before noon. She woke him, removed the bandages, cleaned the stitches, informed him of her busy school day, avoided any mention of the upcoming mission, told him to eat, gave him a peck on his stubbly cheek, and was out again in a three-minute whirlwind, leaving him no time to do anything but blink, nod, yawn, and say ‘okay’ a few times from where he sat still naked, his lower body wrapped in the bed sheet.
In Storm’s office later, she and Bobby sat in silence while Storm laid out the mission’s details.
“The boy’s name is Michael Seamus MacKenzie. He’s sixteen, a recent high-school drop-out, and is living in a tenement with his older sister who is his legal guardian. Father missing, mother deceased two years ago from a drug overdose, and Michael manifested three years ago. He is apparently a feral mutant of a rodent species. His ‘former’ fellow students called him Mac the Rat, so I’m guessing his mutation is pretty obvious, and probably the cause of his dropping out of school. Meet Michael and his sister, get acquainted, and tell them about the Xavier Institute. I also want you to give me your impressions of the both of them, their lifestyle, and anything else you observe.” Storm handed Bobby a folder of information, maps, address, contact numbers, and added, “I hate that we have to be more careful now in recruiting students, but until we get back on our feet with teaching staff as well as the X-team, we’ve got to play it smart. Street clothes on this one, obviously. Any questions?”
In thirty minutes, they were cruising along the freeway toward the city. Rogue sat in silence, trying to shape the words that would leave her mouth and end their relationship as boyfriend/girlfriend. Nothing she came up with made sense, seemed gentle enough, or decisive enough. Struggling with the words in her mind, she finally surrendered with a sigh, convinced that a mission was the absolute wrong time to dump Bobby.
“You’re too quiet,” Bobby’s eyes never left the road.
“Too much going on inside my head. It’s getting all tangled up, and giving me a headache.”
“Are the other people still in there, even after taking the cure?” He’d misunderstood her meaning, which was fine with her.
“Yeah. I don’t think they’re going away, ever. But enough time has passed that I have them pretty much filed away in their appropriate compartments. Good guys, bad guys, innocent victims, and technical consultants, with many cross-referenced in multiple categories. If any more had gotten in there, I’d have to resort to the Dewey Decimal System.”
“I’ve got something for you,” his hand went into his jacket pocket and produced a small black velvet box. Rogue felt cold fingers of dread run through her body. It looked like a ring box.
“What is that?” She had to wrestle the words out of her mouth.
“Call it a belated birthday present, and no, it’s not what it looks like. Open it,” he placed the box in her lap, where she continued to stare at it without touching it.
“Go on, open it. I apologize for forgetting your birthday, so I’m giving your gift belatedly. It was the Alcatraz thing....” Rogue cut him off gently with a nod.
“I know. It was a crazy time but it’s ancient history now. You were going toe to toe with John and I was in the clinic getting shot up, so forget about it.” She lifted the lid hesitantly. It was a ring, but an odd ring with carved symbols around a sterling band. “What is this? I don’t recognize the symbols.”
“It’s some kind of ancient language that the Celts used. I had it made a while ago and hid it until your birthday. Then in all the mess, I forgot about it. Someone said something about your birthday yesterday, and it jarred my memory. So, happy belated eighteenth birthday, Rogue,” Bobby reached over and gave her knee a gentle squeeze.
“What does it say?” She slid the ring out of the box and turned it around, looking at all sides.
“It says ‘Rogue’ in runes or something. It had a weird name, but I’ve forgotten it now. It sounded like ‘oom’ or ‘ohm’ or something like that.”
“Ogham,” she whispered, amazed that their course in Celtic ancient history had actually stuck in her head along with everyone and everything else that crowded around in there. She decided to blame Eric. “Who said something about my birthday?”
“Wow - you were paying attention in history that day. It was Miss Hanson, the new teacher. I think she’s getting acquainted with people, because she’s sure chatting everyone up.”
“How would she know anything about my birthday?” Rogue frowned at the ring, then slipped it back into the box quietly, tucking it in her sweater pocket. “Thank you, Bobby. It’s beautiful.”
“Not gonna try it on?” He seemed a little disappointed.
“Nope - we’re on a mission, and I’m in business-only mode. But thank you - it’s a very thoughtful gift, and I appreciate it.” A smile and a pat on his knee, then her eyes were back on the road ahead as the city appeared in the distance. End of discussion: her body language and terse words clearly stated as much.
The MacKenzie siblings’ apartment was on a second floor walk-up in a bad neighborhood. Bobby and Rogue chatted amiably with Michael and his older sister Jenny.
Rogue studied Michael while he listened intently to Bobby’s description of the school and what it had to offer a mutant. The boy was tall for his age, sturdily built but lean, and had a shock of wiry gray hair; not a pre-mature gray, but stark, battleship gray. It stood in a bristling shock above a face that was thin-boned and angular with disconcerting black eyes: no pupil/iris distinction showed, just solid black on the white eyeball. She realized that without the pupil, it was hard to tell exactly where he was looking. She’d been surprised when he smiled once, showing small, pointed teeth that looked wicked. She doubted that he smiled very often. He was still sporting a bruised jaw from his latest encounter with mutant-hating bullies in the neighborhood. After listening to everything they had to say about Xavier’s Institute, he finally spoke.
“Ya know, everything you say about this place sounds too good to be true. But, I’m not interested in leaving my sister here alone to fend for herself. I bring in some money now and then, and we’re getting by okay, so don’t waste your time trying to recruit me for some fancy school.”
“We’re not trying to recruit you, Michael,” Bobby started, but Michael interrupted.
“Just call me Mike.”
“Okay, Mike. We just want you both to know about the school, and that it’s entire purpose is to provide a safe haven for mutants who are having trouble getting an education, fitting in, finding their way in life. There’s even a job placement program for graduates.”
Rogue’s mind flashed back to Stryker’s raid, but she knew that news had been hushed up by the government. It wasn’t likely to ever happen again. The school was still the safest place she knew.
“Mike,” the sister said, “give this some thought. You’ve got skills, but finishing your school years will only help. If you decide you want to go there, I could sub-let a place for a while, and you’d be free to take care of yourself.”
Rogue was curious, “What are your skills?”
“I can kit-bash electronics, and solder, wire, build stuff out of junk, that sort of thing. Wanna see my stereo system?”
“Sure!”
He led Rogue to a tiny room where the walls were lined with what could have been a techno-junkie’s nightmare or fantasy. Everywhere there was wiring, cables, speakers, components, and everything from 8-tracks to digital tape to CDs to a turntable and a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Mike flipped one main switch and the system came humming to life: strange colored lights flickered and danced around the room, with eerie, throbbing music seeping from seemingly every direction. Chase lights and some tiny strobes finished the effect perfectly. She recognized the opening strains of a goth-rock cover of “Cinnamon Girl.”
“You did all this with junk parts?” Rogue was amazed at the sound and lights show going on around her.
“Yeah, mostly what I scrapped out of dumpsters, swapped a few things, sold, pawned, whatever. Hey, is that guy you’re with your boyfriend or something?”
“Yeah, something. Why?”
“I was gonna hit on you, but I figured he’d kick my ass. You’re too pretty.”
Rogue caught herself giggling at his comment, “Well, thank you for the compliment, Mike, but yeah - he’s my boyfriend, so let’s keep our relationship professional, okay?”
Mike just rolled his black eyes and turned off the music. In the living room, Jenny again suggested they think about the opportunity, and Bobby left them a business card with contact information. “If you’d like to come up to the school and see the grounds sometime, just call us and we’ll arrange it. Thanks for your time, ma’am. See ya, Mike.”
Back in the car, Rogue described the room’s electronic jungle to Bobby, “It was awesome what he did with scrapped parts. That boy’s got some fantastic talent for a drop-out. I hope he does come to the school.”
*
Toad lazed in a chair before Magneto’s desk, “She’ll check in with me tonight, boss. You want me to call her back in from the field, or tell her to hang tight?” .
“Let’s see just how useful this young woman is, and leave her there for now. She’s served her purpose well thus far, so to remove her from the premises might be a waste. Tell her,” Eric tapped one finger against his lips in thought, then, “tell her to remain and continue gathering information as long as she is convinced her cover is secure. We might learn a great deal through her placement at Charles’ school. But if she has the slightest suspicion they are growing wary of her, she should create a story for suddenly leaving. Perhaps a dying relative, or something similar.”
“Will do.”
*
Rogue knocked softly on Logan’s door around ten that night, but there was no answer. Pushing the door open, she saw the empty room, the unmade bed, the untouched lunch tray, and instantly started worrying. The bathroom was empty. Checking beside the bed she found his boots, so he couldn’t have gone far. While pondering where he could be, she heard footsteps in the hall. Eagerly exiting the door, she found Shelly Hanson walking toward her own room.
“Hi, Miss Hanson. Have you seen Logan lately?”
“Hmm, Logan,” Shelly crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a lacquered nail on her front teeth, “ is he the big guy, surly, wild dark hair? I still don’t know everyone’s name.”
“That would be him, yes.”
“I did see him heading toward the end of the hallway earlier, but it was almost an hour ago. Sorry, Rogue honey, but I guess that doesn’t help you very much.”
Rogue hadn’t talked to the new teacher personally until now, but she took an instant dislike to the former beauty queen. Her voice was too sweetly feminine, her Texas accent too soft, her gloss too highly polished. She was a walking cosmetic facade for a modeling agency, but she was supposed to be good with the little kids, and Storm needed that desperately. Smothering her own southern accent, she mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and moved on.
Hearing Hanson’s door close behind her, Rogue walked to the end of the hallway and contemplated the doors around her: store room, linen closet, empty teacher’s rooms, stairwell, Scott and Jean’s old apartment of rooms - that made her chest ache at the thought. They were gone, both of them. Charles Xavier was gone. Storm was overwhelmed on so many levels. And Logan was laid low without his mutation, while she’d freely given hers away.
Fighting back tears with a gasped breath, Rogue rolled hard questions through her mind. Would she have still taken the cure if she could have foreseen the state of the X-Men in the aftermath of Alcatraz? Could she have absorbed some of the devastating power of the Phoenix taking over Jean and still kept her own sanity? Would it have given Jean a fighting chance? Would she have given up her one and only mutant power if she had known the outcome of the fight against the Brotherhood? Did she have anything left to give the team? Was she even worthy to wear the uniform now? Had she chosen herself over all of them?
Her head whirled with the thoughts. She desperately needed to find Logan, for her own relief; for her own peace of mind. Talking to him always seemed to sort things out in her head. And he needed a project right now to take his mind off of his own challenges, even if just for a little while.
They needed each other.
Suddenly it struck Rogue: the stairwell went to the roof. Sometimes he went there for needed quiet. He could be up there now for the sheer breathing space. Or the sheer multi-storey drop to the ground?
Fighting back the latter thought, she grabbed the doorknob and ran the stairs two steps at a time.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Bobby gives Rogue a gift, Mike gives Rogue a light show, and Shelly gives Rogue the oogies.