Chapter Text
Rogue Red came into the world in a blast of energy and a burst of panic two years after they moved into Haven House.
Her memories were much older, however. She remembered her mothers, the X-men, her married life, and every small, charming, like the way her brother smiled when he was trying to comfort someone. It was a lifetime.
The first memories that belonged to her and to her alone were pure panic and confusion. She couldn’t fly anymore, and she barely had time to register Simon’s powers were gone, a split second of abject horror, before she started falling.
She never hit the ground, but there was no salvation when she looked up.
Rogue tried to make sense of what she was seeing, but her brain was spinning wildly. She could see her own face, admire the way her green eyes looked even bigger when she was frightened, feel the solid grip of strange, yet familiar, fingers around her hands.
She looked at their joined hands.
Ah didn’t wear red today.
Her thoughts were spiraling, struggling to keep up. She didn’t recognize her own gloves; she didn’t remember putting on a red jacket. Another meaningless, frightening detail. Another pit in her stomach. Between the building panic and the cold wind biting into her flesh, she was struggling to fully grasp the enormity of what happened, but she could feel the gravity of the situation starting to settle in.
“Who--” her voice broke. The grip on her hands was almost painful; her invulnerability should have protected her, but she was as frail as any other human now. “Who are you...?”
The longer she looked at the other woman – herself? -- the heavier her heart fell. Her heartbeat seemed loud enough to be deafening, and she couldn't catch what the other Rogue was saying. She could still read the sorrow in her eyes.
The other Rogue... She was wearing her clothes, she had her strength, her flight, and the same compassionate expression she would sport seeing a friend in pain.
No. It couldn’t be.
Rogue had left the house, flying in her usual green uniform.
She was sure of it.
She was still wearing it, too, and she was still flying. There was a correct version of her that still wore the right close and had the right powers—and it wasn’t her. Whatever perverse power the Collector had used on her, it had been kind enough to leave a clear distinction between the original and copy.
Rogue – the red one – wanted to cry.
......
She woke up in an unfamiliar bed, tangled in the sheets and snuggled into a pillow for comfort. There was no one else by her side, and the absence put another dagger into her heart. Their marriage had always been strong enough Rogue had never worried about spending a few days without her man — she trusted her husband, knew she didn’t need to keep an eye on him, and they had their ways to make up for the lost time — but things were different now.
Her husband wasn’t coming back. The emptiness beside her was destined to stay, and there was no reunion to look forward to; it was the new normal, a reality she struggled to accept. She knew he was with Rogue Green now; in the room they had shared until a week ago.
Except, she didn’t exist a week ago. Or if she did, she had only existed as a part of Rogue Green. Her head hurt whenever she thought about it too hard. It always put a pit in her stomach, twisted a knife inside her guts, made her feel like a lost little girl, like an abandoned child.
Her family tried to be kind; they avoided using words like “clone” or “copy” in front of her, but Rogue Red could read between the lines. She hated to think of herself in those terms, but no kind words would change the fact Rogue Green was the one who kept the family, who kept her life.
Rogue Green looked at her like she was sorry, like she felt guilty she was the one who had won the coin toss and kept everything. She didn’t feel bad enough to give up her spot, and Rogue Red couldn’t even be that angry at her. She knew, for a fact, she would have done the same in her shoes.
The outliers, Gambit, the St.Juniors... as much and they loved her, they weren’t sure what her place in this world was. They tried to hide it behind smiles and kind words, but their facade was poor.
It wasn’t malice; no one knew how to handle that mess, including her. It was too new, too unexpected. She couldn’t share with Rogue Green and pretend nothing had changed. She’d imagined what it would look like, and it felt wrong. Being treated as an extension of someone else would only make her feel even cheaper and more replaceable.
Her emotions were tumultuous.
She missed her husband. Hated him for choosing another woman—even if it was still a version of her, even if he’d never really left her in a sense.
She was grateful Rogue Green had decided to treat her as family, something between a close friend and a sister, but she couldn't let go of her jealousy. It wasn’t fair, not to her or Rogue Green, but admitting it and accepting it were two different things.
Rogue Red swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat down with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She needed to stop herself before she drowned in her own thoughts. Self-pity would lead her nowhere. It hadn’t helped when she had no control over her powers, and it wouldn't help now. She wasn’t a kid anymore: she was a woman, and she wanted to believe she could do better.
If only it were that easy.
A gentle light filtered through her window. It was rare for her to wake up so late, but the last few days had been hectic. The Collector was no longer a threat, but they still had to find their rhythm. Everyone was a little tense.
After a quick visit to the en-suite bathroom, Rogue Red put on a fresh change of clothes. She frowned a little, seeing how empty the closet was. She had yet to buy new clothes; Rogue Green had shared with her, but she felt the need to have her own outfits.
She needed something to distinguish herself, something that felt truly hers. Right now, the Red Suit was the only unique piece in her possession. She resented it and everything it represented — it was the very reason they had named her Red — but at the very least, she didn’t have to share it with her former self.
When she left her room, the house was quiet. Rogue suspected the Outliers were training. Ransom had offered her to join them a couple of times, but she had declined. She knew the other Rogue would be around, and she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to stomach spending any more time with her. She would have to get used to it, but she was still feeling particularly vulnerable.
She made her way into the kitchen. Her brother was already there. He smiled warmly at her, putting down a mug. She idly wondered if he had been waiting for her; Kurt had been worrying about her ever since the split, and his compassion knew no bounds. Of all people, he seemed to have adapted the best. Having another sister was probably less awkward than seeing a copy of yourself or your wife.
“Guten Morgen, Schwester.“
“Good morning, Kurt,” Rogue replied, forcing herself to reciprocate the smile. It was easier than she expected. Kurt had that effect on people. “Thanks. Ah… Ah think I will.”
For a little while, they allowed a comfortable silence to fall between them. It was easy to pretend nothing had changed. After a few moments, she caught the way he would occasionally glance outside the window. When she followed his eyes, she could see the distant silhouettes of the Outliers training in their makeshift Danger Room.
Rogue Red didn’t need to get closer to understand what was happening. She knew those kids well enough to recognize each and every one of them from afar. Deathdream was hovering close to Ransom, cloaked in darkness, before rushing toward an unseen target. Ransom had grown a lot in the last couple years, and the adults had more or less unanimously agreed he made a good leader for the Outliers. Maybe one day he would be a good leader for the X-men; the world needed people like him.
She moved closer to the window and pushed the curtain aside, knowing deep down it would only hurt her more. Rogue Red could hear Kurt shift behind her, could imagine his frown and worried eyes. When his hand fell on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
“Miss and the kids will visit us today. We should grab some groceries, Schwester. I know a store that sells those sweets you like so much. I think the kids will like them, Ja?”
Schwester. Sister. It made her feel a little safer, reminded her of home.
He was offering her an escape; she knew she should accept and leave, but a masochistic part of her wanted to stay a little longer, see what she’d lost.
From here, she could get a closer look. There was a haunting shade of green, next to a familiar purple. She — her other self — was talking to the girls. Jitter had started training to use multiple talents, and they had hoped her experience absorbing and using others’ powers would help. Rogue Red remembered it clearly, though she wasn’t sure whatever she was thinking about herself or Rogue Green.
Calico was there too, without her horse for once. She was holding Jitter’s hands, but her eyes were on Rogue Green and Gambit. Her pose made her look a little nervous, like she was seeking some reassurance. Jitter still struggled to get a good hold of her powers. Sometimes she got a little overwhelmed, and Calico always worried about her.
She was a sweet girl, and she had grown closer to them lately. They had never put a name on it, never dared to, but sometimes she almost felt like their own kid.
All the outliers, if she was honest with herself, weren’t students. Not anymore. They were family in a way that made her heart ache with loss, even when they were still alive and well. She was the one who didn’t quite fit anymore.
She remembered the day before the Collector had arrived and ruined everything — or made her? Were those memories truly hers, or was she mistaking Rogue Green’s for herself — and she missed every mundane second of it.
The world was unkind. Ruined in ways they struggled to understand. But they had each other, and they had found — built — a home where they could be safe.
“Schwester?” Kurt repeated, saving her from her own thoughts.
“Yes, sorry Kurt. Ah got lost in mah own head again.” Rogue Red put a hand to her head and rubbed her temple, eyes closing to spare her the sight of her family living without her. For a moment, she was tempted to walk outside. She missed the kids. She missed her husband.
She quickly banished her thoughts. “You wanted to go to the city?”
Her eyes were still fixed on the people outside, but Rogue Red was starting to lose focus. She saw the way Rogue Green was leaning closer to her husband, the way she wrapped an arm around Calico when she shifted closer, but her eyes were getting too teary to see them clearly. Not without some effort, she focused on her brother’s words.
“Kurt, take me away from this house. Please.”
Leaving the house would do her good, yes.
She needed to go. Maybe forever.
Turning away from the window, Rogue Red idly wondered where she could go, who would take her in.
Her heart had a suggestion.
Ororo.
She missed her so much. Maybe she should call Storm soon. She had hesitated: she didn’t know how to explain herself, hated the idea another loved one might reject her.
But Storm...
She could trust her.
Storm would know what to do; she always did.