Chapter 7

In light of all that had happened recently, Jean found little resistance to the idea of taking the students away from the mansion for a spell. Ever since the attack, nearly everyone had been uncomfortable inside the mansion, especially Bobby and Lorna. With that in mind, Jean proposed the idea of taking the children on a trip into the city for a day.

Aside from being a much-deserved break, the trip also served as an excuse for Jean to spend some time with Scott. He'd been so wrapped up in school business as of late, that she'd barely seen him. Jean believed he was taking his role as "fearless leader" a bit too seriously. He'd scheduled extra Danger Room practice sessions for all of the X-Men, so they would not be caught unawares next time they were attacked. The students had been under lock and key, barely even let outside of the mansion.

Scott was not pleased that Jean hadn't bothered to inform him of her wishes. "I'm the ranking member on the team, Jean," he'd told her, "you need to run ideas by me before you go to Xavier."

But Jean had known Scott would have never approved the idea. With the Professor backing the plan, however, Scott would put up no resistance.

The students were already excited about the idea. Jubilee was keen on the idea of all the shopping she could do, while Piotr Rasputin was interested in visiting the art museums.

By the time the trip date arrived, all the wrinkles in the plan were ironed out. The older students could go without a chaperone, but were required to stay in their small assigned groups. Younger students would be required to stay with the adults.

Upon arriving into New York on the morning of the trip, the students and teachers promptly split up into various groups. Lorna took one group of the younger students out, while Scott and Jean took yet another group off. Logan had taken off to God knows where. Hank elected to stay behind with the Professor. Ororo, carrying a cellphone, was set aside as an emergency contact, should any of the older kids need her. Remy elected to spend the day with her. He'd barely seen her over the past few days, so the trip served as an opportunity to spend some time with his first friend in the mansion.

Kitty, Jubilee, and Bobby were paired in a group along with Sam and Paige Guthrie, two students from Kentucky. Sam had earned the nickname Cannonball for his thermal blasting field and superspeed that allowed him to rocket through the air, not unlike a cannonball. His little sister, Paige, was a metamorph whom Jubilee had nicknamed Husk for her unenviable ability to rip off layers of her skin, revealing a new organic body underneath. Her new husk could become anything from wood to diamond. Paige's powers freaked Jubilee out to no end, especially when Paige left her used husks lying haphazardly in the bathroom. "That's so GROSS!" Jubilee screamed nearly every morning, while Paige just shrugged. "Ain't gonna hurt 'er."

Jubilee's group came into sharp conflict when it came to the issue of what to do. Jubilee wanted to spend the entire day shopping, while Paige would prefer sightseeing. Kitty didn't want to get involved in the fight, and neither Bobby nor Sam particularly cared.

"Ya can go shoppin' anytime, Jubilee," Paige told her, "but ah've never seen New York City."

"It's a bunch of big buildings, whoopdedoo," Jubilee replied. "It's not anything to get worked up over, Hayseed."

The group finally compromised; They would sightsee during the morning hours and save the shopping for the afternoon. Jubilee was still annoyed, but consoled herself with the thought of museum shops. "Shopping is shopping."

-----

Remy stepped inside the record shop to browse around while he waited for Ororo to finish looking through potted plants at the shop next door. Standing in the jazz section, Remy's eyes fixed on a teenage girl who was discreetly attempting to pocket a CD. The girl's hair and face was buried under a boathat, and she peered around nervously, obviously upset at the thought of getting caught.

Snickering at her unskilled attempts to filch the CD, Remy made his way over to the girl. "Somet'ing I can help y' wit', cherie?"

Startled, the girl spun around and Remy fought back a smirk. Shock passed to annoyance on the girl's face. "Ya can help me by gettin' lost. Ah ain't in the mood to be pestered."

Remy shrugged. "Suit y'self. Jus' don't blame me when de alarms in dis place go off like wild dogs." The girl was silent and Remy flashed a grin at her. "Y' doin' it all wrong, anyway."

She snorted. "An' ah suppose yer the expert on thievery?"

"Don' y' know?" he replied, sweeping up her gloved hand and kissing it. "I'm Remy de Prince of T'ieves. I steal from de rich and give to de beautiful."

"Ah can already tell yer a heartbreaker," the girl said with a laugh. "Mah momma always told me to look out for you boys."

"An' did y' mere give y' a name, petite?" A flash of emotions crossed the girl's face.

"Uh, ya can call me Marie."

"Marie," Remy said, rolling it off his tongue with a soft 'r.' Reaching up, he grabbed hold of her hat."Why y' hide a pretty face like dat?"

With her cap off, Remy got a better look at the girl. The shock of white in her auburn hair rang disturbingly familiar, and Remy searched his memories to place the girl. 'She ain't a past amour, don' t'ink...'

It was the blonde boy who approached the two who clued Remy in on the girl's identity. "Hey, Rogue, we gotta go," the boy said, "Mysty's waiting on us for lunch, and you know how she yells when we're late."

"Ah'm comin', St. John," Rogue said. Turning back, she noticed a slight smile playing at Remy's lips. "What?"

"T'ought y' name was Marie, chere," he said. "Y' run along now wit' y' friend. Remy track y' down later."

"An' just how ya gonna do that, Swamp Rat?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "Ya don't even know mah last name."

Remy grinned slyly at her. "Got m' own secrets too."

Rogue rolled her eyes and trotted off after St. John, a few parting glances tossed Remy's way. Remy made he was back next door, to where Ororo was still sorting through potted plants and wind chimes. As he stepped in, Ororo immediately noticed the peculiar smile on Remy's face. "You have something on your mind, my friend," she commented. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

Remy briefly debated mentioning to Ororo what he'd seen. The X-Men had been searching for this girl for months. If he told them, Ororo would immediately be out the door in spot of the runaway student. She'd probably also be calling all the other X-Men for back-up. Finding Rogue would probably put Remy in good graces with the rest of the team.

Still, he was reluctant to turn her over. Obviously the girl was running to or from something. If she'd wanted to be found, she would have returned ages ago. In a strange way, he sympathized with the girl. Both of them were fugitives from a past life, who'd given up family and friends to escape crimes. Remy had killed his wife's brother, while Rogue had attacked an ally of the X-Men's. Though Ororo, as his best friend, deserved his honesty, Remy felt he also owned his silence to this strange girl, so disturbingly like him.

"Not'ing for y' ears, Stormy," he remarked. "Jus' picked up a femme, is all."

-----

St. John harassed Rogue about Remy the entire way back. "You looked pretty cozy there," he teased her, fending off her playful swipes.

"St. John, ah swear ah'll kill ya one day," she laughed.

"But seriously Rogue," he said, grabbed hold of her covered arms and stopping her in the street. "It personally doesn't bother me to see you flirting with other boys, but it might hurt my best friend, you know?"

"Bobby," Rogue said softly. "Ah hadn't really thought about him in a long time. It's been months, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," St. John said. "Do you think they still think about us?"

"Ah know Logan does," she replied, pushing a streak of white behind her ear. "He's probably tearin' up the city, looking for us."

"Looking for you, maybe," St. John said. "I can't imagine he'd look as hard, if at all, if it'd been just me that took off. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, or anything. It's just that everyone cares about you in a different way than they care about me. I'm one of the students and they'd feel bad if I took off. But you're almost an icon or a symbol to them. They all treated you differently, even Mr. Summers."

"That's only because of Liberty Island, St. John," Rogue said. "If I'm a symbol for anything, it's for destructiveness."

"What happened up there, Rogue?" he asked. "You don't ever talk about it. We hear rumors, but..."

"I promise I'll tell you tonight," she said, silencing him. "Right now, we need to go meet Mystique."

-----

Lorna's charges ran all around her as the group explored Central Park, but she barely noticed them, save Illyana's small hand grasping her own. She knew Jean had her best interests at heart when she organized the trip, but walking around New York only added to Lorna's nervousness. So many people bustling around her was disconcerting, and she could have sworn she saw Vertigo in the crowds at least 3 times. The children had long ago realized that Lorna was quite distracted, and took advantage of this as an opportunity to cut up and scream. "Slow down now, Dani," she remarked listlessly. "You don't want to get separated."

"Miss Dane?" Illyana said in her soft Russian accent, pulling Lorna's thin hand against her cheek. Absentmindedly, Lorna glanced down at the small girl's curious look. The twelve year girl was a favorite of Lorna's, but now Lorna could only view her with a blank look, as if she didn't know the child before her. She vaguely recognized the girl as a sometimes companion of Jubilee and Kitty, but made no connection other than that. The remarkably perceptive child shrunk back slightly, still grasping Lorna's hand. "Miss Dane?" she repeated, tightening her grip.

"Illyana," Lorna said, releasing the word in a gush of air. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath. By this point, most of the students were staring at her curiously, actively becoming aware that something was not quite right with their teacher. "I think all this walking has gotten to me," Lorna said dismissively. "I need to sit."

Most of the students were satisfied by this, breaking up into their respective groups to giggle and chatter. Only Illyana stayed by Lorna's side ad the green-haired woman sat down to rest. Turning, Lorna examined the girl's perfect golden child features.

Wouldn't you like to rip out those pretty blonde strands? Lorna sat up straight. Look around, you Lorna. See how everyone notices your strange hair? You'll always be a dirty mutant to the world.

Lorna turned her head, escaping Illyana's questioning eyes. Reaching in her pocket, she grabbed for the small silver charm she now kept with her constantly. Rolling it over in her fingers, she fixed her eyes on the horse-drawn carriages that ran through the park, blinding herself to any other images save the turning of the carriage wheels.

You could easily rip the wheels off the carriage and show everyone how powerful you are. Really Lorna, why do you let them push you around so? Even your own friends treat you like a second-string player. It's because they know how powerful you are. Think about it - they can barely stop Magneto, so how could they stop you? Don't be like Jean, Lorna. They've restrained her to the point that she doesn't exercise her potential, but they don't have you yet. Show them, Lorna. You were meant to lead.

Lorna listened, letting the voice soothe her. It no longer frightened her, as it once had. It kept her company in a way. Instinct and training told her she should take her problems to Jean or the Professor, but in her heart, she didn't want to. It was her dark secret, the one thing she never wanted to share with anyone. What would they think of her, if they realized their charming companion secretly entertained fantasies of showing the human world what she thought of their bigotry?

Sometimes she thought Magneto had a point, but she never dared speak those words allowed, lest Scott launch into one of his famous speeches. Instead, Lorna kept quiet, immersing herself in teaching and reading.

Besides, these were harmless thoughts. Surely even the Professor had times when he wondered if it was all worth it.

No, she could keep her silence. She could be the cooperative teammate they wanted, using her powers only when they deemed it appropriate. To herself, however, Lorna wondered why she'd ever agreed to come back in the first place.

-----

For the life of her, Alison Blaire couldn't remember what she was doing lying on the steps of a New York cathedral. She distinctly remembered going to bed in her own home, and now here she was, lying on the cold slab of granite.

Hazy figures, images from a nightmare she couldn't shake, seemed to clutter her mind. A pale-skinned man with a red diamond in his forehead. A motley group of shadows with destructive powers beyond her imagination. Images that couldn't possibly be real.

A quick check - no choker around her neck. Didn't she recall a constricting cameo necklace around her pale neck? Alison was sure she had never owned such jewelry, but the feel of a tight ribbon binding her neck haunted her.

Tunnels. She distinctly remembered tunnels. The only tunnels that came to mind were those of the subways.

"Hey lady, you okay?" A dark-haired boy with a thick Brooklyn accent questioned her. She grinned at him, flirtatiously, eliciting a grin from the boy. "Rough night, huh? I've been there." he commented, walking off to join his friends.

Standing, Alison pulled on the door to the cathedral. It swung open and she made her way in. The entranceway was lit with white taper candles that cast a luminescent glow on the dark wood paneling. She made her way into the main part of the church, taking a spot on the plush seating of the pew.

She'd never been a religious girl, but for some reason, praying seemed the obvious thing to do. Unfamiliar as she was with the Catholic church, she nonetheless felt some comfort in the solitude of the cathedral.

"You seem lost, my child," a voice asked her. Glancing up, Alison let her eyes rest on an old priest, smiling down on her. "I'm Father Aubry," he said, smiling gently.

"I'm Alison Blaire," she said, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater. "I didn't mean to disturb her."

"It's quite alright," Father Aubry said. "We saw you lying by the door this morning. We were wondering when you'd come inside."

"I'm not exactly myself today," she said, smoothing down her blonde strands.

"Which of us is," the priest commented. "You look tired. Come, we have cots which you could lie down on for a while, if you'd like. Perhaps when you're better rested, we can help you discover just who you are, miss Blaire."

-----

When Logan handed Scott the tabloid, his first instinct was to snicker and ask him if he watched soap operas too. as his eyes glanced over the cover, his expression changed.

"'Donald Trump and Young Mistress.' What's Rogue doing with Donald Trump?" Catching Logan's eye, Scott's mouth parted slightly. "Mystique."

"Figures the tabloids would find her before we could," Logan said sardonically. "I'm really surprised with the kid. She, of all people, should know better than to troll around with Mystique."

"Well, if she is involved with Mystique, then chances are she's not the Rogue we know. It's entirely likely that she's with the Brotherhood now."

"Watch it, Scooter. She'd never sign up with those wannabe terrorists. She's young, she doesn't know who she's dealing with."

"Logan, I hate to say it," Jean said, cutting in, "But we have to accept the possibility that Rogue's our enemy now. We don't know what happened to her or St. John after they left. With everything that's gone on lately, we can't take chances."

"I can't believe the two of you," Logan said angrily. "I don't care who she's photographed with, I know this girl better than either of you. The day Rogue joins the Brotherhood is the day Chuck falls in love with an alien. It's not going to happen."

"Suit yourself," Scott said. "I don't want to think she's involved with Mystique either. But if she ever crosses us, I guarantee that I won't hold anything back, former friend or not."