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Rogue was curled up on her bedroom chair, reading a romance novel when she could hear the voices of Bobby Drake and Jubilee yelling at each other. The walls of the mansion were thin and Rogue had the misfortune of the communal bathroom being located next door. So much for her quiet morning.
“There is water everywhere,” Bobby shrieked. “Why is there water everywhere?”
She could hear Jubilee’s scoffing loud and clear. “Your body is literally covered in ice ninety percent of the time and you’re about to take a shower. I don’t understand why you’re complaining. Are you afraid the steam is going to melt you?”
“It’s disgusting in here. I mean, look at all this hair in the sink. You don’t even have that much hair. How is this possible?”
“Okay. lame-o. The hair is blue, so obviously it’s not mine. Maybe you should tell your furry friend to stop hacking up hairballs.”
“It smells like a rat died in here.”
Rogue slammed her book shut, no longer able to concentrate, and tossed it onto the nightstand.
Ever since they had all returned from Muir Island, the mansion had felt full. Maybe too full. It hadn’t felt like this since, maybe, the early days. But she had been so wrapped up in her own misery she had barely registered it. What the other X-Men did was none of her concern. Not really. Not at first, anyway. She was too busy battling the other voices in her head.
She thought about when she’d returned through the Siege Perilous, how quiet everything had felt. It had been peaceful. It had been unsettling. She had been able to hear herself think. And for the first time in her adult life, Rogue’s head had been clear, void of all the other voices she had gotten used to rolling around in her head.
Carol was no longer there. Carol had always been the loudest, struggled the most, made herself the most visible. And yet, it had sometimes been easier when she had been in control. Carol - the one who had it together. Carol - the one who wasn’t a lost little girl desperately trying to scrape by. Carol - the one who was loved so deeply by others. As much as Rogue was glad to be rid of her, she also missed her.
Carol had also kept the other voices at bay. But they were all silent now, too. Even the faded echo of Cody had left her. It almost made her feel cold inside.
She was her. Just her. Rogue. Anna Marie … It had been so long that her own inner monologue felt foreign to her.
In the other room, Bobby and Jubilee’s argument had escalated. Her bedroom was no longer a safe haven. She needed more space than the tiny room allowed.
She made her way along the corridor. Someone, somewhere was pounding on metal. A large blast of heavy metal music blared from the other end of the hallway. Above her the ceiling creaked and thudded. No noises going on in her head, and yet externally, she felt like she was suffocating.
On the stairway, Hank and Warren were on their way up, locked in a tense discussion over politics and philosophy as she made her way down. They hushed as she grew close, but Hank stood aside, ushering Warren with him, and holding a hand out for her to pass. She nodded kindly as Hank smiled, the exchange brief and cordial. Warren gave a little, non-committal nod before delving back into his thoughts as they continued up the stairs.
This was their home first, she remembered. And she was merely a guest in it.
Rogue, please be in the danger room for training in thirty minutes.
The professor’s voice echoed so loudly in her brain it startled her. She wasn’t sure why he had to announce things like that, not when he and Ororo were walking by as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Professor Xavier rolled on without as much of a glance, too deep in his discussion about danger room tactics to bother. It was funny to her that he’d be so intrusive with his thoughts and yet wouldn’t spare her a moment of actual personal connection.
Ororo, however, held one hand up, pausing Professor Xavier’s mid-sentence. She reached out for Rogue’s gloved hand and squeezed it in her own. As if sensing the professor’s coldness and wanting to counter it, Ororo made sure to look Rogue square in the eye as she spoke. “I am glad to see you back, Rogue,” she said, her words sure and steady.
They were a relief to hear.
Ororo nodded at her, letting her know silently that she was there… She was a friend. Rogue was grateful. She thought, perhaps when time allowed, she could ask Ororo for help. They could have tea up in her garden and Rogue could unload. Not that they had ever really had the chance to back in the old days. But she would like that now. And Ororo was more open to the possibility.
However, Xavier’s look had become impatient and Rogue couldn’t help but wonder if he was communicating some sort of urgency to Ororo that made her pull away. Professor Xavier only gave Rogue a sharp glance before he and Ororo continued on their way.
As they left, Rogue noticed standing in the foyer, lost in their own little world, Scott and Jean. Jean had her back against the wall, one knee raised as she relaxed against it. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, and instead, had on a golden-flowered sundress. Her hair was down and flowing over her shoulders. Her face was bright and soft and she looked younger than she ever had. Scott, too, was dressed down. He still looked as though he were ready to go into an office job with his pale blue button down shirt and khakis. But even he had a grin on his lips. They both looked so unlike how she was used to seeing them.
Rogue couldn’t tell what they were saying, there were only mere whispers. Scott leaned in close and spoke to Jean. Whatever he said made Jean laugh, falling forward into him. She placed a hand on his shoulder as she looked adoringly up at him. He came in close, brushing his lips softly against hers. They were happy. So happy. And here Rogue stood, feeling like some sort of awkward voyeur, witnessing something that was sacred between the two of them.
Her heart felt heavy as she watched Jean cup Scott’s face, her thumb stroke his cheek, the nakedness of her arm almost shining in the morning sunlight. To be that free… to be that open… It almost felt like a mockery of things she would never get. Rogue held herself close, aware of how the thin layer of cloth was what kept her shielded from the outside world, and yet it felt like a layer of lead and iron imprisoning her. She wasn’t sure if she had ever felt so alone surrounded by so many people.
“It’s too early for this shit.” Logan came out of the shadows, grumbling beside her. He watched Scott and Jean with an angry frown on his face. It irked him too, seeing the two of them together, but for a vastly different reason, she supposed.
“It’s nearly eleven,” Rogue said, trying to remain light. She couldn’t let herself get too bogged down in her own sorrows.
Logan merely grunted and took a swig of the beer he was holding. “You okay, kid?” He kept his eyes fixed on Scott and Jean. Jean had wrapped her arms around his waist. Scott looked almost bashful as she held him close.
“I’m fine,” Rogue replied. She wanted to look away as much as Logan probably did, but she felt transfixed as she watched their ease.
Logan let out another grunt. “If you need anything…”
Rogue tore her eyes away to face him. It was comforting to know she wasn’t entirely alone. “Same, Logan,” she offered. She was sure he would never ask, and she wouldn’t know quite what to say if he did. But at least he was there. At least in his own, strange way, he seemed to care.
He took another swig of his beer and finally tore his gaze away from Scott and Jean. He looked a little sad to her, a little tired, a little gruff and trying to hide it all. She gave him the best smile she could muster. He only nodded and began to walk back into the mansion.
She thought about following him, but really what she could use was some air. She didn’t have to go to the training session if she didn’t want to. She didn’t have to abide by the professor’s every rule. She could go for a drive or a fly or even a walk - give her some space and time to think. To sort things out. She was alone with herself. What did she have to say for it?
She scooted past Scott and Jean, not wishing to disturb them, head firmly down as she quickly moved out the door.
The minute she was outside, she felt a bit of relief. It was peaceful; quiet, calm, sunny, a soft breeze whistling through the trees. Nothing but her, the sound of a few birds chirping in the distance, and the squeaking floorboards of the terrace as she made her way around the outside of the mansion.
It was when she rounded the corner to the back entrance that she saw him. Gambit. Standing at the top of the steps, leaning casually against one of the terrace beams, deep in thought with a cigarette loose on his lips. She wasn’t sure if she should approach further. He made her nervous, made her stomach twist in a knot in a way she had never really felt before. If Carol had still been with her, the voice in her head would’ve been screaming to turn around and walk the other way.
But Carol wasn’t with her anymore. It was just her. And she wanted to know…
“Nice morning, non?” His voice made her jump. Apparently, he didn’t have to see her to sense that she was there.
She came up to the banister, kept her eyes fixated on the field that sprawled in the distance, as if looking at him would be too much. She could feel his eyes on her, taking her in, the twitch of his lips turning into a grin. He took another drag on the cigarette, then offered it to her. She shook her head, not saying a word.
They hadn’t spoken since they’d returned from Muir Island. She had barely seen him since they’d returned from Muir Island. What he did in his free time was none of her business. But still she wondered about him. She didn’t know what it was, or why, but she felt drawn to him. Curious. Enticed. Attracted.
Something had happened on Muir Island. Their paths had crossed, she remembered that much. But the Shadow King had had control. Her memories were fuzzy imprints that she couldn’t pin down. She remembered being close to him. She remembered enjoying it. But what was her and what was some unseen force controlling her? She dared not rely on such clouded judgment, especially when the details eluded her. All she did know was that she had felt something . And whatever it was she could either run from it or embrace it. She had no idea which way she was going to go.
“It is a nice morning,” she said, attempting the same ease he was giving her. “Mansion felt a little too stuffy. Thought some fresh air would do some good.”
“Place is a damn madhouse,” he said. His accent was thick, but the familiarity of it felt strangely comforting. He stubbed the cigarette out on the banister then flicked it out into the grass. She rolled her eyes a little, knowing how thrilled the professor would be if he had seen that. He could barely tolerate Logan’s cigars. But still, she found herself amused. “Don’t know how anyone can stand everyone being up in everyone else’s business.”
She gave a little shrug, suddenly feeling a little defensive of the place. They were her family. As much as she often felt on the outside of it at times, they were still hers. And he was… something else. “It may be crazy from time to time. But it’s still a home.”
“That’s a nice thought,” he said, the cocky grin rising again, though he couldn’t quite mask the hint of sadness in his voice. He leaned towards her, sliding one hand along the banister until his fingers brushed against hers. His boldness was aggravating. It was also electric. She could feel the reverberations of that single touch all the way down to her toes. “Maybe I should find a reason to make this residence a little more permanent.”
She immediately tore her hand away. “Gambit, I can’t, I…”
“Can’t what?”
The question hung heavy in the air as he moved in closer. She couldn’t help but look at him then. Couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at her, how he seemed to desire her, how his gaze dropped daringly to her lips… Her stomach was doing flips.
He was pushing it, drawing in so close; close enough to be able to see deeply into his dark eyes, to feel his breath on her skin. He was well aware of what he was doing, that much she could tell. He was daring her to let it continue, to see how far she’d take it. The problem was that she was letting him do it. Willingly letting him cross a line she didn’t permit others to cross. She had half a mind to punch him for it.
For the first time in so long her head was clear. And already, someone was encroaching on that. A part of her wanted to let him muddy it up again. The pull for a single kiss was that strong. She felt dizzy for it, as if the world was spinning and she couldn’t get it to stop.
God, she barely knew this man. What was wrong with her? “Do you have a death wish?”
He smirked. “It’d be one helluva way to go, non?”
He stared at her a moment longer, amused, as if he knew what was going on inside of her, what she wanted in her core. How could he even know when she didn’t?
“You’re infuriating,” she said, finally pulling away.
He laughed. Maybe it was all a game to him. It wasn’t to her.
“Stormy said she wants us in the danger room soon,” he said, moving towards the back door. He held it open, holding one hand out to let her go through, pretending to be the gentleman she didn't think he was.
“She hates when you call her that, you know,” she said as she moved past him.
“Why do you think I do it?”
He was as relentless as he was charming. A dangerous combination.
Stepping into the mansion she felt safe again, felt sturdy on firm ground. She could hide from his intensity in the chaos. A danger room session where she could wipe that smarmy look off his face began to sound like a great bet.
“Let’s see how smart that mouth is when you’re faced with her lightning, cajun,” Rogue challenged.
“Stormy’s great, chere, but there’s someone else I’m looking forward to tumbling with.”
“You are utterly incorrigible, aren’t you?”
Not a moment later, they were interrupted as Bobby Drake dashed past in a fit of hysteria. He was immediately followed by an irate Jubilee, holding what looked like a block of ice with a hairbrush in it. “This is not an appropriate response, Bobby!” Jubilee screamed. “You can’t just freeze my entire room.”
“You’re the one who didn't seem to mind everything being wet,” Bobby teased.
She threw the hairbrush at him, hitting him squarely in the shoulder. He, in turn, blasted some ice in her direction. It was met with her fireworks, the display exploding the ice. Rogue and Gambit were caught in the middle, the both of them quickly becoming drenched.
“Some home this is,” Gambit muttered, as both Bobby and Jubilee broke into a fit of laughter upon seeing the two of them.
Rogue grinned, seeing him humbled.
Yes, this was her home, insane as it was. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.