All comes crumbling down
Rogue's been a little lost lately, trying to come to terms with all the warring thoughts and ideas in her head. Finally she gets a chance to help mutants and prove to herself that violence isn't the only answer but in the end, it all crumbles down before her and she does the only thing she can think of.
Rogue sipped her vanilla latte, moving quickly through the office. So far she'd been having a good day. There was nothing about her in the press. Erik hadn't decided to do...well, anything. Or at least wasn't taking credit for anything. Life was good. No one looked up as she passed. All of her coworkers intently looking at their computer screens or busy with their paperwork. Funny how they'd never seemed this busy before her dating status with Erik had been made public.
"Definitely a spy," one of the younger women remarked, fiddling with the copier. Her companion, an older woman nodded.
Rogue didn't react. They could be talking about anyone. Didn't necessarily have to be her. She headed towards her box and faltered as the older woman spoke. "He's old enough to be her father."
"Or her grandfather," the younger one stated, and Rogue grabbed her mail and stalked off towards her office, once again thankful she wasn't in some damn cubicle.
And there goes my good day, she grumbled inwardly, tossing her mail on the desk as she shut the door. There'd been a time when she'd kept it open and the others had popped their heads in. Talked to her. Joked with her. Hadn't been suspicious and hostile. She plopped down on her chair and swiveled away from them, looking through the mail. Nothing of importance. Nothing that couldn't wait for later. She was half tempted to go to Rachel's office and talk but remembered that her friend was at some press conference. Or was it a press lunch? She was out somewhere dealing with the press.
Rogue checked her e-mail. Again, nothing that important. Looking back down at the desk, she frowned, once again wondering what she was doing here. How was she helping? Am I even helping? All she seemed to be able to do was create a lot of bad press for damn X-Corps that Rachel was trying to spin into something good. Not that there was much for her to do about that. In order for the bad press to stop, she'd need to give up her relationship with Magneto. And that was just not gonna happen.
She tapped her pen against the desk, looking out at the others, watching them move around. Casting suspicious, worried glances back towards her. They were all wondering when she was going to do something to harm them. She just knew it. Their expressions were pretty obvious. She glared and watched as they hurriedly looked away. Afraid. Rogue growled. They're afraid of me.
She slammed the pen down on her desk, annoyed with them, with herself. She hadn't done a single thing to merit this fear. Except date Erik. She shrugged and looked back down at the paperwork she needed to attend to, slowly beginning it. After about a half hour, there was a knock on her door and Rogue turned, surprised. One of her coworkers--Michelle?--was cowering on the other side, quickly looking behind them and Rogue nodded, waving him in.
He opened the door and stepped aside and Rogue finally saw the young woman behind him. Michele was looking at the young woman--obviously a mutant with her dark purple skin and the scales covering her face--his expression slightly horrified. "I'll take it from here," Rogue stated, annoyed with the young man. Perhaps this would be his last day if this was how he reacted to mutants. "Come on in, Mademoiselle...?"
"Clarice. I go by Clarice," the woman said, closing the door behind her. On second thought, maybe she wasn't quite a woman yet. Just a girl. Frightened.
Rogue motioned to the extra chair and gave a reassuring smile. "Hi, Clarice. I'm Anna. Would you like something to drink? Eat?" The girl looked entirely too thin and her eyes lit up at the mention of food.
"Yes, please." Clarice nodded, looking Rogue over carefully. "You're Rogue, right? A mutant."
"I am." Rogue dialed the reception, ordering for some sandwiches and fruit to be brought to her office. "What brings you here?"
"You help mutants." The girl's English was slightly broken and Rogue could tell she was struggling. "To live."
"And you need help?" Rogue asked, slipping easily into French. The girl seemed to relax a little, relieved to speak in her native language.
"My parents died. They kept me safe. Now I have nowhere to stay." Clarice looked down at her hands, black hair falling in her face. "No one will take me in."
Rogue reached out, thankful she hadn't taken her gloves off yet, and patted the girl's hand, smiling when she looked up. "I believe we can help with that."
"And my friends?" Clarice asked, looking intently at her.
"Friends?"
"Mutants like me. We. Live together. In the abandoned chapel. Four of us." Clarice bit her lip, unsure how much more she should say.
Rogue nodded, unwilling to pry any further. There was another knock at the door and Rogue waved the woman in, watching Clarice's face light up at the food. "I'm gonna need five more sandwiches. Bagged. And bottles of water as well. Bread and some fruit too," Rogue stated, and the woman nodded, placing down the tray on the desk.
The woman placed a comforting hand on Clarice's shoulder. "Pastries as well, I should think."
Rogue smiled. Maybe not everyone at this office was as horrible as she believed.
Over the next week, Rogue scowered the city for a place for Clarice and her four wayward friends to live. All of them were under sixteen, recently abandoned and none of them could pass for human. Not that they should, Rogue reminded herself but it made finding them a home that much harder. She knew what Erik would say to that and pushed it out of her mind, focusing on helping the children. They'd been staying in two spare rooms at X-Corps but that couldn't last. It wasn't as though X-Corps could take in every stray mutant and house them. She'd asked them if they'd want to go to the Xavier Institute but they'd vehemently put an end to that idea.
Finally, she found a place on the outskirts of town. An older mutant owned a building and offered the mutants a place to live and a way for them to make money by helping to renovate the rest of the building. It was perfect.
The kids were ecstatic and moved in quickly to the building, pleased to have a place with electricity to call their own.
Rogue felt good, pleased to have helped someone, to have made a difference. And I didn't need to resort to violence, Erik. I did it through peaceful means. She would have liked to have told him that personally or over the phone but thought it best not to speak with him yet. She was still pretty sure she was being watched.
Over the next week, Rogue was walking about on Cloud Nine. None of the annoying remarks from her coworkers or the new barrage of bad press could bring her down. Clarice and the others called every day, regaling her with stories of their mishaps in painting or molding the various rooms. They sounded happy and they all looked healthier than when she'd first met them. Their caregiver, the older mutant who owned the building, was even discussing making the building into a house for abandoned mutant teens. A place where they could go and grow and figure out what to do with their lives. Rogue was helping coordinate the endeavor with X-Corps resources, trying to get the project off the ground.
It was perfect.
And then, with one knock on her door, it all came crashing down. Michele looked forlornly at her and nodded towards the television. "Turn on," he told her and closed the door without further remarks.
Rogue did so and gasped in horror at the image on the screen. The building was on the screen, police crime tape over the door and she grasped the desk, hoping it wasn't showing what she feared. The camera panned out to the police shoving a young man into a car, his eyes wild with excitement. "Mutant scum, trying to ruin our street. We warned them," he yelled, before the door was slammed in his face, the camera panning out to the words 'Mutants Die' spray painted on the side of the building.
The reporter was talking but Rogue couldn't process what she heard, reading the words scrolling along the bottom of the screen. No survivors. They were all gone. She brushed tears from her eyes, watching as the paramedics left the building. A purple hand slipped from beneath the white cloth and Rogue choked.
She pushed herself up and left the office, ignoring all of her coworkers. It hadn't mattered. None of it. She'd helped those kids and would have been helping more. But it was gone. The peace. The safety that building had represented. Because of one man. She moved quickly up to her room, thankful Rachel wasn't around, that she was at another press conference. "About time my bad press should help me out," she mumbled, grabbing a bag from her closet and threw in her most precious possessions--her favorite bears, her pictures, Erik's sweater.
She quickly scribbled a note on her pad of paper and folded it, writing Rachel's name and propped it on the bed where her friend would be able to see it. "I'm sorry, Ray," she breathed, wiping tears from her eyes and pushed the window open, flying as fast as she could as high as she could.
Rogue flew hard, using defensive maneuvers she'd learned to get anyone off her track before landing in Italy and moving quickly to a payphone. She stared at the phone for a few moments, hating that it'd come to this. Hating that he was right. Picking up the phone, she quickly dialed and held her breath as the phone began to ring, closing her eyes at his cautious greeting. "Erik," she sobbed, and then forced herself to stop. "Magneto." That's who he was. Who he had to be right now. "I. I want to join."
Rogue sipped her vanilla latte, moving quickly through the office. So far she'd been having a good day. There was nothing about her in the press. Erik hadn't decided to do...well, anything. Or at least wasn't taking credit for anything. Life was good. No one looked up as she passed. All of her coworkers intently looking at their computer screens or busy with their paperwork. Funny how they'd never seemed this busy before her dating status with Erik had been made public.
"Definitely a spy," one of the younger women remarked, fiddling with the copier. Her companion, an older woman nodded.
Rogue didn't react. They could be talking about anyone. Didn't necessarily have to be her. She headed towards her box and faltered as the older woman spoke. "He's old enough to be her father."
"Or her grandfather," the younger one stated, and Rogue grabbed her mail and stalked off towards her office, once again thankful she wasn't in some damn cubicle.
And there goes my good day, she grumbled inwardly, tossing her mail on the desk as she shut the door. There'd been a time when she'd kept it open and the others had popped their heads in. Talked to her. Joked with her. Hadn't been suspicious and hostile. She plopped down on her chair and swiveled away from them, looking through the mail. Nothing of importance. Nothing that couldn't wait for later. She was half tempted to go to Rachel's office and talk but remembered that her friend was at some press conference. Or was it a press lunch? She was out somewhere dealing with the press.
Rogue checked her e-mail. Again, nothing that important. Looking back down at the desk, she frowned, once again wondering what she was doing here. How was she helping? Am I even helping? All she seemed to be able to do was create a lot of bad press for damn X-Corps that Rachel was trying to spin into something good. Not that there was much for her to do about that. In order for the bad press to stop, she'd need to give up her relationship with Magneto. And that was just not gonna happen.
She tapped her pen against the desk, looking out at the others, watching them move around. Casting suspicious, worried glances back towards her. They were all wondering when she was going to do something to harm them. She just knew it. Their expressions were pretty obvious. She glared and watched as they hurriedly looked away. Afraid. Rogue growled. They're afraid of me.
She slammed the pen down on her desk, annoyed with them, with herself. She hadn't done a single thing to merit this fear. Except date Erik. She shrugged and looked back down at the paperwork she needed to attend to, slowly beginning it. After about a half hour, there was a knock on her door and Rogue turned, surprised. One of her coworkers--Michelle?--was cowering on the other side, quickly looking behind them and Rogue nodded, waving him in.
He opened the door and stepped aside and Rogue finally saw the young woman behind him. Michele was looking at the young woman--obviously a mutant with her dark purple skin and the scales covering her face--his expression slightly horrified. "I'll take it from here," Rogue stated, annoyed with the young man. Perhaps this would be his last day if this was how he reacted to mutants. "Come on in, Mademoiselle...?"
"Clarice. I go by Clarice," the woman said, closing the door behind her. On second thought, maybe she wasn't quite a woman yet. Just a girl. Frightened.
Rogue motioned to the extra chair and gave a reassuring smile. "Hi, Clarice. I'm Anna. Would you like something to drink? Eat?" The girl looked entirely too thin and her eyes lit up at the mention of food.
"Yes, please." Clarice nodded, looking Rogue over carefully. "You're Rogue, right? A mutant."
"I am." Rogue dialed the reception, ordering for some sandwiches and fruit to be brought to her office. "What brings you here?"
"You help mutants." The girl's English was slightly broken and Rogue could tell she was struggling. "To live."
"And you need help?" Rogue asked, slipping easily into French. The girl seemed to relax a little, relieved to speak in her native language.
"My parents died. They kept me safe. Now I have nowhere to stay." Clarice looked down at her hands, black hair falling in her face. "No one will take me in."
Rogue reached out, thankful she hadn't taken her gloves off yet, and patted the girl's hand, smiling when she looked up. "I believe we can help with that."
"And my friends?" Clarice asked, looking intently at her.
"Friends?"
"Mutants like me. We. Live together. In the abandoned chapel. Four of us." Clarice bit her lip, unsure how much more she should say.
Rogue nodded, unwilling to pry any further. There was another knock at the door and Rogue waved the woman in, watching Clarice's face light up at the food. "I'm gonna need five more sandwiches. Bagged. And bottles of water as well. Bread and some fruit too," Rogue stated, and the woman nodded, placing down the tray on the desk.
The woman placed a comforting hand on Clarice's shoulder. "Pastries as well, I should think."
Rogue smiled. Maybe not everyone at this office was as horrible as she believed.
Over the next week, Rogue scowered the city for a place for Clarice and her four wayward friends to live. All of them were under sixteen, recently abandoned and none of them could pass for human. Not that they should, Rogue reminded herself but it made finding them a home that much harder. She knew what Erik would say to that and pushed it out of her mind, focusing on helping the children. They'd been staying in two spare rooms at X-Corps but that couldn't last. It wasn't as though X-Corps could take in every stray mutant and house them. She'd asked them if they'd want to go to the Xavier Institute but they'd vehemently put an end to that idea.
Finally, she found a place on the outskirts of town. An older mutant owned a building and offered the mutants a place to live and a way for them to make money by helping to renovate the rest of the building. It was perfect.
The kids were ecstatic and moved in quickly to the building, pleased to have a place with electricity to call their own.
Rogue felt good, pleased to have helped someone, to have made a difference. And I didn't need to resort to violence, Erik. I did it through peaceful means. She would have liked to have told him that personally or over the phone but thought it best not to speak with him yet. She was still pretty sure she was being watched.
Over the next week, Rogue was walking about on Cloud Nine. None of the annoying remarks from her coworkers or the new barrage of bad press could bring her down. Clarice and the others called every day, regaling her with stories of their mishaps in painting or molding the various rooms. They sounded happy and they all looked healthier than when she'd first met them. Their caregiver, the older mutant who owned the building, was even discussing making the building into a house for abandoned mutant teens. A place where they could go and grow and figure out what to do with their lives. Rogue was helping coordinate the endeavor with X-Corps resources, trying to get the project off the ground.
It was perfect.
And then, with one knock on her door, it all came crashing down. Michele looked forlornly at her and nodded towards the television. "Turn on," he told her and closed the door without further remarks.
Rogue did so and gasped in horror at the image on the screen. The building was on the screen, police crime tape over the door and she grasped the desk, hoping it wasn't showing what she feared. The camera panned out to the police shoving a young man into a car, his eyes wild with excitement. "Mutant scum, trying to ruin our street. We warned them," he yelled, before the door was slammed in his face, the camera panning out to the words 'Mutants Die' spray painted on the side of the building.
The reporter was talking but Rogue couldn't process what she heard, reading the words scrolling along the bottom of the screen. No survivors. They were all gone. She brushed tears from her eyes, watching as the paramedics left the building. A purple hand slipped from beneath the white cloth and Rogue choked.
She pushed herself up and left the office, ignoring all of her coworkers. It hadn't mattered. None of it. She'd helped those kids and would have been helping more. But it was gone. The peace. The safety that building had represented. Because of one man. She moved quickly up to her room, thankful Rachel wasn't around, that she was at another press conference. "About time my bad press should help me out," she mumbled, grabbing a bag from her closet and threw in her most precious possessions--her favorite bears, her pictures, Erik's sweater.
She quickly scribbled a note on her pad of paper and folded it, writing Rachel's name and propped it on the bed where her friend would be able to see it. "I'm sorry, Ray," she breathed, wiping tears from her eyes and pushed the window open, flying as fast as she could as high as she could.
Rogue flew hard, using defensive maneuvers she'd learned to get anyone off her track before landing in Italy and moving quickly to a payphone. She stared at the phone for a few moments, hating that it'd come to this. Hating that he was right. Picking up the phone, she quickly dialed and held her breath as the phone began to ring, closing her eyes at his cautious greeting. "Erik," she sobbed, and then forced herself to stop. "Magneto." That's who he was. Who he had to be right now. "I. I want to join."