Tears of a Forsaken Past:  Part 10
                By Nitemare Queen
 

     Not destroying phone handles is probably one of the hardest things to do that is if you still want it to be in working order, which I did.  Handling the phone was done in the most tender of manners -- as tender as I can be when pissed, which I was.  The number, no longer truly able to be numerically remembered was gently placed and the ringing began.
     “Department for Federal Advisement for the Gifted.”
     “Get me Mystique.”
     “I’m sorry I do not recognize anybody by that name, let me transfer you…”
     “You do and Ah’ll fly out there and deal with you personally.”
     “Umm… yes, Miss?  How may I help you then?”
     “There is no desk for this number and you know it, so stop acting, Raven, blow the outfit, Ah need ta chat.”
     “Identification number?”
     “What is this, Mystique? Just cut the shit.”
     “Proof of access?”
     “Mystique, if ya wanna play this way I’ll put Star on the phone.”
     “Star?”
     “Name ring a bell?”
     “………..”
     “Why the silence? You midwived at the hospital, you helped me into life, this is no surprise to you… is it, Mystique?”
     “How do I know this is Rogue?”
     “Audrianna Selena Moore, 222-68-7287.”
     “Child?”
     “That’s right, Mystique, its me.  So care to tell me why this was hidden from me and why Ah have a clone, a fucking god damned copy running around my house?
     “Star is there?”
     “Yes… who was first, Mystique?  Was she first, or was I?  What went on?”
     “About?  First what?”
     “First born, who was it?”
     “Star was first born, your mother died when you were born, she held you both for a second only.  Star was cleaned, named and taken out the back door for a… an arranged adoption.   You were handed over to your father.”
     “Why is she here?”
     “She’s where?”
     “Here, making breakfast in the kitchen, sleeping with her husband.”
     “I have no idea.”
     “Then how did she manage to marry Remy?  Ah was born in Mississippi as Ah recall, NOT Louisiana.”
     “Her adoptive mother was the favorite niece of Jean-Luc, but it didn’t matter at the time and it was not public knowledge.  Her husband was born in Mississippi, but she was from New Orleans.  She met him there, obviously.”
     “Hmmmm.. awfully hard to find the LeBeau house at random…  Spill it.”
     There was a pause on the line and some typing on a keyboard.  She sighed and finally spoke up.  “Apparently at the time of her parents' death-“
     “Death?”
     “Yes, death -- child, listen, she had no blood relatives and since the marriage license as well as the accident occurred in Louisiana the state figured it was better for them to stay in the state's care than to have to be transferred to other faculties.”
     “How were they killed?”
     More typing.  “…A drunk driver went through the median and crashed head on with them, killing both of the parents instantly and her adoptive sister, Ayianna, suffered a bloody nose.”
     “And so they were in the care of the state.. but managed to become welcome in the LeBeau house….”
     “She and her sister broke in there to steal some artifacts that their mother had told them about.  They were caught and recognized and appropriately treated, trained and housed.”
     “Then she and Remy were married… and…..”
     “She fought with him, left him, and took her sister and her unborn children to England.”
     “England?  And her children dead because of?”
     “…..”  The silence cut through the air, it was so suddenly thick.  Her breaths were coming at a quicker pace over the phone line.
     “They died of...?  It’s not that hard, Mystique, just say how.”
     “They were killed.”
     “Murdered.”
     “Yes.”
     “By?”
     “Victor.”
     “Why?”
     “He meant to kill Remy.  He got his children instead.”
     It was my turn to be silent.  I felt sorrow for her.  For him, and his recent knowledge of their deaths -- murders.  The couldn’t have been that old, what… one, not yet two.
     “Rogue, are you still there?”
     “Yea.. Ah’m still here.  Does Erik know?”
     “Erik who?”
     “Her husband, Erik, does he know Sabertooth did it?”
     “Erik…”
     “Lehnsherr.”
     “She’s married to MAGNETO!?”
     “Umm.. yeah, Ah thought everybody knew that.”
     “I didn’t!!!”
     “So you don’t know about her boys either?”
     “He has two children?”
     “Well.. biologically, no-“
     “Good.”
     “Orion is Remy’s and Draco is Erik’s.”
     “He has progeny?”
     “A child, yes, well.. He’ll have three in a few more months.  Star’s pregnant”
    “Who knows about her marriage to Mag-- Erik?”
    “The whole team, why?”
    “We are in deep shit.  I’ll be there in two hours.”
                                        * Click *
     The phone line went blank and a few seconds latter a busy signal blared in my ear.  Why was this such a big deal?  I mean he’d only tried to destroy the world so many times.  And he’d only been near destroying us how many times… what’s the big deal, anyway?
     So much for a good morning at the mansion.

     I’d set the breakfast table, and finished the meal -- omelets, toast, juice and hash browns -- as the team started to arrive.   The usual grace and awe the team usually held was all but gone.  In worn, wrinkled clothes, with bed-head, everyone sat down and in grunts communicated, a familiar sight having two boys and a husband that did all the same.  Retreating with a tray to take up to Rogue, I was caught by the arm by Jean.
     “Won’t you sit down?” She asked, looking at me in an almost… motherly way.  The team all stopped eating and grunting, and turned to watch us.  There were a few open spots at the table, but I really wanted to take this tray up to Rogue.  Besides, I didn’t really belong with the team anyway, I belonged with Erik, and my boys.
     “Ah don’t-“
     “It’s fine, Star, the team won’t bite, Erik will sleep, the boys will come down on their own, and Rogue will eat--“
     Remy burst in through the doors. “Non.  Rogue’ll stay in her room till de day be half way gone, and Star isn’t used to large meals with people, so jus' let her go, Jean, and leave us more to eat.”
     Jean let go of my arm and I left, walking up to Rogue’s room. When I was about ten feet away from her door I could hear a harsh breath, and an assortment of angry words.  As I got closer, I realized she was lifting weights. Her door was cracked, so I knocked on the paneling.  A rough, “Come in.” was my reply.
    I set the tray down on her cedar chest.  “Ah thought you might be hungry so ah--“
     “Can you spot me?”
     “Ah guess.. how much are you lifting?”
     “Only a few tens of tons, here, I’m going to be done in three more lifts.”
     “TONS??  Ah can’t lift tons!  You’re jokin’, right?”
     “No, Ah’m not, it’s easy, but I haven’t lifted in a few days, so I need to up it by five more tons, two more.”
     “Rogue, I’m not sure Ah can do this, Ah’m-“
     “One.”
     I went over to her head and put my hands on the bars, barely touching hers, and waited.  She lifted and all was well, the bars were about to be in place when she let go, and the weight hit me.  Then the blackness came.

     A thud brought me about, but it was the crisp scream that made me rush out of my room.  It was coming from Rogue’s room, and my feet were there before my mind even knew what was going on.  Star lay on the ground, unconscious, blood coming from the corner of her mouth, Rogue was standing in the corner screaming, wet with sweat.  A uranium weight was crushing my wife’s chest; from the look of it -- an adamantium bar with uranium weights -- it probably weighed thirty-five to fifty tons.  Ouch.  I went to Rogue, and tried to get her to calm down. I’d need her help, that much weight just sounded dangerous, and it would do no one good for someone else to get injured.  Especially because my wife’s powers were now uncontrolled; they become such when she gets knocked unconscious.
     Rogue finally agreed to help me lift the weight of Star, and by then we had acquired a group of watchers, the whole team.  As Rogue and I started to lift the weight off of Star, Hank got too close to her, and surprisingly, both Remy and I screamed no.
     “Dr. McCoy, she’s uncontrolled at the moment, wait until Rogue and I get this off her, or you’ll be in a very bad place for an unknown amount of time.”  He backed off, and we lifted the bar off of her and back onto the rack.  Flying around, I went to her head and tried to numb her powers.
    Hank looked around desperately for a backboard.  “Where in stars is the medical set I put in this room?”  He started going through closets, and a bathroom, finding nothing.
    “Ah... ah didn’t need it, so Ah gave it to Bobby when he moved back in…”  Rogue was crying and had fallen against the wall.
    Jean stepped up to the plate and without even a word, started to lift Star’s body perfectly straight, and I followed, holding Star’s face as we ran down the stairs, past Charles, and to the infirmary.  Jean set her down on a gurney, and Beast cut her shirt from her, revealing seven broken ribs, four of which were actually sticking out of her chest and got caught on her shirt as it was removed.  The rest of the X-Men started to trickle in -- all except Storm, and Iceman, who had mentioned staying with my children.
    Hank started to prepare for surgery when Logan stepped up and put his hands on her bare arms.  He breathed deeply and said, “Move your hands, Mags, I’ve been sapped before, It’ll help her now.  Besides, I think Rogue would rather not have to see scars on her sister, she’d blame herself. Just let go, keep my hands on her and move her ribs back into her chest, then, when the skin closes over, get me off.  Now move.”  I moved my hands and watched, as his face grew tired.  Pushing the ribs back into my wife’s chest was harder for me to do, but when it was finished, the skin started to re-grow, and reform.  I’d never seen anything like it.  As soon as the skin, still pink and new, covered Star’s ribs, I lifted Logan off Star and carried him to another gurney before returning to her.
    Hank was already in gloves inserting IVs in her arm, and ready with a neck brace.  Once it was on, he moved a backboard under her and we carried her to a x-ray room where he took no less that fifteen x-rays.  She had a thin fracture on one rib, a refused sternum and healed bruises.  Dr. McCoy guessed that had Wolverine not healed her she would have been in critical condition and still in surgery, with a possibly failing heart.  As it was she would need maybe a week of physical therapy after a week of bedrest.
    As we placed her back in bed upstairs Rogue walked in, rather pale.  “She’s ok, Rogue -- just a little bruising, she’ll be ok in a week.”  Rogue simply nodded and came over to the bed, sitting down and patting Star’s hand.  “She won’t have a single mark.”  Again a nod.
    “What happened, Erik?  Ah just asked her ta spot for me.  I thought…”  She trailed off.
    “Star is your equal in flight, but past that your powers and their levels of degree vary.  She can lift a car at maximum strength, while you have lifted tanks with casual strength.  Just as she can control her absorption powers to a very… unnerving degree, you have very little control over your absorption power.  You have a sixth sense, she memorizes brain waves and thought patterns... You both have your gifts.  She is just not as strong as you are, nor will she ever be.  Your invulnerability does not inhabit her, she is as vulnerable to bullets as any human or normal mutant would be. ”
    Rogue sat in silence, thinking.  Then she spoke, “Mystique midwived us.  She was born first.  My… my mother died when ah was born.  Ah never knew… all those years and she never told me…   Ah never knew ah had a sister, and ah just met her, and look what happens.  Ah should have known, Erik, Ah should have known, ah never meant for this to happen, really, it just never crossed my mind.”
    I sat down next to her, and put my hand around her shoulders.  “You never could have known.  She’ll be fine, she won’t care, and she knew you never meant any harm.  It’ll be ok.”
    Rogue nodded and stood.  She walked away, to her room I suppose, and I was alone with my Star.

    I heard the helicopter as it landed, and decided I needed to get out of bed, and get dressed.  My chest hurt, and it was wrapped from just under my shoulders, from my armpits to my navel.  I remembered it all, but I don’t remember healing this fast.  Everything was so sharp and clear, every smell was defined, and recognized.  It all was like I’d been there before and as if I had helped built this place; I remembered ever nail, every piece of wall.  And I remember… Jean, as I have never seen Jean.  I tried to remember who I was…  I was silk, strong, predatory... I was… I smelled cigars, I was Logan.
    My body shook as I regained my composure, I hate absorbing people when I’m unconscious.  It’s just messy.  Now I have to go over my memories and everything that is not mine I have to separate and categorize.  Then it goes into storage -- the personality at least, very rarely can I store the powers.   I’ve done it once, and it got ugly. It’s why once I touch a person I will remember their brain waves and thinking patterns forever.  It’s creepy.
    Getting dressed was not the hard part, flying down the stairs was. The voices I kept hearing and the waves I kept feeling were anything but good news for me.  Different languages kept lifting around me, most of which I knew, and most of the words were serious, and in quiet tones.  Waves were everywhere, and I opened myself to them. All I recognized which was not normal when there was a helicopter marked “X-Force” sitting in the front lawn.
    The only two waves I cared about right now I would know until I died.  One was from a woman, or, I think it was a woman, who had the same thought patterns as a man I once saw, then as a different woman.  Shapeshifter.  The other wave I hoped to just be a memory of someone.  I prayed to be a memory, Sabertooth, Creed, Murderer.  If he was here he was about to leave.  The bitch that tried to kill Ayianna I would allow to breathe, but the animal that killed her and my own flesh and blood -- he had to go.  Flying was easier now as I realized that Logan was in the kitchen, and I knew his mood; it reflected my own, loathing.
    Flying past the woman I intended to hurt later, I went into the kitchen to find Storm and Scott sitting very close to a feral Logan.  A glance and he knew. We were together, linked, sort of an emotional connection, and we smiled as I asked to speak with Logan alone.  Slowly they left and without a word I touched him, took his skills and powers, and stalked out of the kitchen to the living room door.  I ran with a speed I never possessed towards the helicopter, ripping the door off of its handle and tearing the creature in its cockpit out onto the grass.
    Victor seemed surprised to see me, until he smelled the air; he knew who I was, and that was when he stared laughing.  Metal claws stopped his humor as they brought wet gurgling sounds to his throat, which happens when you puncture a lung.  I cut his stomach open with the other set of claws.  With a hand inside him, feeling warm, semi-liquid things, I pulled all I could grab out of his body and started my assault in full.  The fire of screaming pain burned at my back as I felt his claws dig into the soft skin, but I healed quicker now, and so I didn’t hesitate at the pain, I just kept on cutting.  I had to.  He’d heal in a week’s time, max, and all of my efforts would have gone to waste; besides, who cares who wins this, I know he’ll die soon.  I know who he works for, and I have connections, I am still a master thief, and I have not called in quite a few favors.
    The sight must have been nauseating, because I thought I heard Scott lose his lunch on the lawn before Erik and the Bitch came to tear us apart.  I felt the skin re-knit itself on my back, felt his fear, smelled it, tasted it in his blood.  He’d remember me even more now.  Even as he was lifted into the helicopter to retreat home to lick his wounds, he held a new look on his face -- fear maybe, but astonishment and wariness certainly.  Logan walked up to me in the silence after they retreated, and I collapsed against him, tired and worn out, but vengeful.
    For the first time, I think he accepted me, and it felt good.  This day felt so deliriously good, so sinfully good.  Finally picking myself up after observing the clear blue sky for a few minutes, I walked back inside shadowed by Erik and Logan, past the team, and got myself a drink.  I didn’t know why they were here, and I didn’t care -- all I know is that should they ever come near my or mine ever again I will not be as merciful as I was today.  I will kill him and I will hit her, and no one on God’s green earth will stop me.