Six nights later, Rogue found herself awake again, unable to sleep. Her arm was throbbing from tonight’s Parade, and her mind was uneasy.

She hadn’t been engaged again. Not since Logan. Though there had been an increase in the number of Parades since his visit. Her arm had four more marks since he’d been there. She’d be running out of space soon, they’d need to figure out another way for her to perform her little trick.

She turned onto her left side as she tried to get comfortable, staring at the closed window. It was hotter tonight, the air outside unbearably thick with the promise of a storm that hadn’t yet arrived.

She’d learned more about this place since Logan had found her. She sniffed, if a bit derisively. Maybe she should thank him.

Finally snaring an engagement meant several things for Rogue. One; better and more frequent meals. Two; more shared meals with the other mutants. Three; invasive physical examinations.

She wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant memory of the handlers inspecting her for damage the following morning after Logan had left. The cold and impersonal touch of hands in nitrile gloves, the blood tests, the questions. She hated how it made her feel. Violated. Vulnerable.

It was a complete contrast to how she’d felt with Logan that night. She allowed herself to recall the sounds and sensations of those moments, closing her eyes as she felt a flutter of unexpected arousal as she relived the memory. She hadn’t wanted or expected the reaction she’d had to his touch on her. It was wholly unanticipated.

She’d come. Hard. Fast. Explosive. Rocking her hips in time with the spasms the racked her body. Unprepared for the intensity of the sensations he’d forced on her. Barely recognizing his answering roar of pleasure in her ear as he gripped her hips, forcing her to move with him as he rode out his own wave.

She had slumped back against him. Unable to hold herself upright. Sweat and come glazed her thighs, but she couldn’t make herself move from her position on top of his still jean-clad thighs.

Several minutes passed before he came back to himself. And she knew the exact moment he realized what he’d done. What he’d allowed - no - forced to happen between them. Felt the second which his mind and body rejected his actions.

He didn’t need to ask her to get up. She rose without prompting, and moved to the bathroom to rinse herself off, gently wiping her flesh with a warm damp washcloth. He followed behind shortly after, jaw clenched, avoiding her gaze as he cleaned himself off with a few rough strokes of a damp hand.

He’d left then. Taking the control pad with him. Not sparing her a glance as the door slid shut behind him.

She didn’t know what she expected to happen. Every moment was still being observed, listened to. They wouldn’t be able to have a frank conversation about the hot and fast sex they’d just had and what it meant for their friendship. She didn’t have that luxury.

Rogue shifted again in her bed, throwing the comforter off her legs, too hot for anything but another pair of cool cotton sleep shorts and a mismatched tanktop. She closed her eyes and forced herself to try and focus on her breathing, and not the endless loop of thoughts coursing through her mind.

In, one, out, two. In, one, out, two. In. Out. God. The feeling of him inside her. Smooth. Hard. Fuck. No. Focus. Breathe. In, one, out, two. In, one, out, two. In, one, out, two. In, oh god, so fucking slowly. Jesus. More. Faster. There. NO. In, one. Out. Two.

“Goddammit,” she muttered, facing the inevitability of another sleepless night ahead of her. She really was going to need to sleep soon. She could feel her concentration wearing thin. And she needed to stay present. For Jubilee’s sake.

It made Rogue feel worse, that she couldn’t remember what she and Jubilee had fought about that night. Apparently, it was something so trivial it didn’t even warrant taking up space in her over-crowded brain. They were supposed to go to a new bar in Salem-Center called The Rusty Lion and meet up with some friends of Jubilee’s. Instead they’d said stupid things to each other. Childish words. And Jubilee had left, and never come back.

At first, Rogue wasn’t worried. Jubilee did that sometimes. She met new people, stayed over, went places. She was trusting and fun. And that drew people to her.

But when another night passed and she hadn’t come home, Rogue felt the first twinges of guilt and worry. By the third night, she knew something was wrong, and headed out to the bar where she and Jubilee were supposed to have gone together.

“Did you see this woman in here the other night?” Rogue asked the bartender as she held up a picture on her phone. Jubilee was smiling in it, her dark short hair tucked behind her ears, giving Rogue the finger.

The bartender laughed a little at the picture and nodded easily. “Oh yeah,” he answered. “She’s been in here a few times.”

“A few times?” Rogue asked, surprised. She hadn’t known that Jubilee’d been here more than once.

“Yeah,” he responded again as he poured a pair of draft beers for the order that had come in on his monitor. “She was alone the first night, was with a couple of girls the next time, then met up with a pair of older guys the last time I saw her.”

“Can you tell me when that was?” Rogue asked politely. She didn’t know this bartender. Didn’t know if he was receptive to mutants. Her first instinct was to let him drive the details of the conversation, without sounding like she was asking questions that made it seem like Jubilee was trouble.

“Sure, I don’t mind. Seems like you two are friendly,” he said nodding at the picture on her phone.

“Yeah,” she replied softly looking back at the picture on her phone. “We are.”

“It was two nights ago. She came in alone again, seemed kinda down…”

Rogue felt a tug of guilt at this reference to Jubilee’s mood. It had been her fault she was there alone in the first place.

“...but then was laughing and chatting with these older guys for the next few hours. I lost track of her around eleven or so - it was pretty busy.” He offered apologetically as he poured a double shot of gin for the next order that’d come up on his screen.

“No, that’s okay,” she replied. “These guys. Can you describe them to me?”

“What, you a cop or something?” His tone was joking, but she could tell there was an edge of suspicion in his voice now.

“No,” she answered honestly. “She’s my friend, and she’s missing. I’m just trying to find out as much as I can about what happened.”

“Shit,” the bartender muttered as he set down the tumbler full of gin. She had his full attention now. He hesitated for a moment, then caught her eye. “You from up at that school?”

Rogue appraised his question, trying to discern his motives for asking. Finally, she sighed in resignation and nodded. She didn’t have anything else to lose by confirming his suspicion.

“Knew it,” he said with a smile. “Always glad to help the teachers up there. Have a nephew who was in need of some assistance several years back. He got it there. My sister was so thankful.” The bartender gave her a firm nod, as if deciding something.

“Well dressed, mid forties, both of them. Caucasian. One of ‘em had a super tight haircut, not military, but political - know what I mean? The other...even though he was laughing had a sort of mean look about him. That guy had real light blonde hair and brown eyes. The first guy had black hair, blue eyes. Kind of an unusual combination.”

“Great, thanks,” she responded earnestly. “Have either of them been back since then?” She felt an almost instantaneous feeling of disappointment as he shook his head.

“No. Sorry.” And he meant it, too.

Rogue took in a deep breath and pushed back from the bar. “Listen, if you see those guys again, would you mind giving me a heads up?” She reached for a cocktail napkin and scribbled her name and cell phone number down, shoving it toward him.

“Of course,” the bartender responded taking the napkin from where she’d left it on the polished bar top. “And good luck,” he added as she turned away. “With finding your friend.”

She smiled back at him weakly, “Thanks. Ashley,” she added as she saw the nametag pinned to his left breast pocket.

Five days later, her cell phone rang. The area code showed it was from Salem Center. She answered immediately and was relieved to hear Ashley’s voice on the other end. “Hey. This Rogue?” Came the hushed words of the bartender.

“Yes,” she said immediately, recognizing his voice. “You got something for me?”

“Absolutely. Those two guys I mentioned?” He waited for her to respond.

“Yeah,” she said quickly.

“They’re back. Here. Now,” Ashley said simply.

“No shit,” Rogue muttered as she stepped back from the training session she’d been supervising. “What are they up to?”

Ashley scoffed. “Same thing as last time. Chatting up a few younger girls.”

“Great. Thanks, Ashley. Call me again when they’re back next, and let me know if anything weird happens tonight.”

“You got it.”

Rogue smiled as she ended the call. Their first real lead. She dismissed the sparring class she was supervising and raced to the garage to grab one of Logan’s bikes. He wouldn’t mind. He’d been overseas for months. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She tore out of the mansion’s garage, motorcycle wheels spinning wildly in the gravel as they grabbed for traction. Her speed only slowed when she got closer to the bar. Rogue grinned as she lowered the kickstand, these assholes didn’t know what was headed their way…


She was startled out of the semi-sleep memory she’d found by the grating, deep toll of a single bell.
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