After Midnight - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Neurotic Temptress
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 17

If Ah’d raised mah hand two inches from mah face Ah still wouldn’t have known it was there. It was jus’ that dark. Like nights down in Mississippi when th’ moon’s gotten as small as it could evah get, playin’ hide-an’-seek behind a cloud. Even worse, actu’lly. At least ol’ Luna would give off some kind o’ light, no matter how little. Around me, it was jus’... black.

Ah was tryin’ ta tell mahself not ta panic, that it was jus’ a busted fuse or somethin’. Vic an’ th’ boys would take care o’ it an’ ev’rythin’ would be fine again. Truth be told, Ah was fightin’ a losin’ battle. Mah heart was jackhammerin’ so hard Ah thought it’d jus’ about jump outta mah chest. First a loud noise from one o’ th’ bedrooms an’ then a sudden power failure? Who was Ah foolin’? Chances o’ those two events bein’ random occurrences were so slim they outta be spokespersons fo’ a national dietin’ campaign.

Ha! Now Ah was makin’ jokes? A sure sign that Ah was gettin’ fidgety. Guess Remy was rubbin’ off on me more than Ah thought. That boy rarely got nervous, but whenevah he was, he’d start shootin’ off his mouth like you wouldn’t believe.

Soon as Remy came ta mind, Ah began ta calm down slightly. Not much, mind you, but it was a start. Ah had enough sense ta not call out ta Charles. If th’ nutcase aftah me was in th’ apartment, Ah sure as hell didn’ want him ta sneak up behind me in th’ dark.

Extendin’ mah leg ta th’ left, Ah felt th’ edge o’ th’ coffee table. Ah started makin’ mah way back t’ward th’ wall. Ah wasn’t exactly th’ most graceful person at that moment, bumpin’ inta things ev’ry now an’ again, but at least Ah got there eventu’lly. Ah had no idea where Ah was gonna go aftah that. Out th’ window? Down th’ fire escape? Ah didn’ even know if Ah was in any real danger. What if Ah’d rush out o’ th’ apartment only ta get caught defenseless out on th’ street?

Before Ah had time ta contemplate mah next move, th’ lights popped back on. Now aftah all that scroungin’ ‘round in th’ dark, you’d think Ah would’ve been real grateful fo’ that li’l blessin’. Ah wasn’t. Th’ room Ah was in was completely empty. Charles was nowhere ta be seen.

What li’l calm Ah’d been able ta scrap t’gether left me in one breath. Th’ jackhammer started up again. So now th’ score was a loud noise, a sudden power failure, an’ a disappearin’ Charles routine. Ta say that somethin’ didn’ feel quite right was an understatement at that point.

When Ah was a li’l kid, Ah used ta hate it when th’ house was too quiet. At least when Daddy was stompin’ ‘round from room ta room Ah would know where he was an’ make sure Ah was somewhere else. But Charles’ apartment was like a crypt... dead silence. Like Ah was th’ only soul there.

What in th’ world was Ah doin’? Ah was standin’ there bein’ all scared an’ such when th’ othahs could’ve been hurt an’ needed help. Ah had ta find them, an’ Ah couldn’t do that panickin’ mahself inta a hole.

Takin’ a deep breath, Ah started across th’ livin’ room, pickin’ up a slim, marble lamp along th’ way. Ah might’ve been struck with a sudden heroic streak but Ah wasn’t stupid. Ah needed some kind o’ weapon ta beat ovah this guy’s head in case Ah ran inta him while lookin’ fo’ th’ othahs. Albeit it wouldn’t have been much help if he pulled out a gun or a knife on me, but it was better than goin’ empty-handed.

Ah slowed mah steps as Ah got closer ta th’ hallway. Ah was strainin’ mah hearin’, tryin’ ta pick up any kind o’ sound. Nothin’. Buildin’ up th’ very last o’ mah courage, Ah turned inta th’ hall.

An’ screamed when a man suddenly stepped out in front o’ me.

~~

“Where de hell is she?!” Remy demanded as he paced furiously beside the fireplace. They had arrived at Rogue’s home ten minutes earlier, only to discover that Xavier hadn’t dropped either her or Karen off.

“Remy, calm down,” said Hank. “She’s with Charles; she’s safe.”

“Non, mon ami. I’ll only consider her safe when she’s here wit’ us.”

“Vic’s with her. An’ so is Xavier’s team. Kid’s fine,” Guido tried to reassure him.

Logan pulled the unlit cigar from his mouth. “Gumbo’s right. Been over an hour since they left the theatre. They should’ve been here by now.”

“Maybe Chuck’s showin’ her the city,” Damien suggested.

“You mean the city that she’s lived in fer the past eleven years?” Logan asked dryly as the other man shrugged.

“Perhaps the media followed them,” commented Peter, “and they are trying to lose them.”

The room fell silent as the idea sank into their minds. It was an innocent enough thought. But as they stood there contemplating, it slowly evolved into something more menacing. Remy was the only one to voice what they were all suddenly thinking.

“It could be de media,” he said, the scowl on his face deepening, “or it could be her stalker.”

“We shouldn’t immediately jump to that conclusion,” Hank pointed out. “We can’t be certain that that’s the reason for their absence.”

“We’re gonna assume the worse,” stated Logan. “First thing ta do is check Xavier’s estate; make sure they aren’t there.”

And with that, he left the room. The others followed him out the door.

~~

Instinctually, Rogue swung the lamp at the figure looming over her. She would have hit the man squarely in the head had he not ducked at the very last second. With a dull thud, the lamp made contact with the nearby wall. Hands reached over and forced the makeshift club from her grasp.

“Child, what the devil are you doing?!”

Startled, Rogue looked up. “Charles!” she exclaimed, righting herself and throwing her arms around him. “You scared me half ta death!”

“It seems that should be the other way around,” he remarked, pulling away from her and entering the living room once again. “After all, I was the one who almost had his head flattened into the wall.”

She smiled apologetically. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Settling back down on the couch, she asked, “Where were you jus’ now?”

“I was investigating that noise we heard earlier. It turns out that it was only Vic. He wasn’t feeling too well and decided to lie down in one of the rooms. He tripped over an ottoman and fell onto the floor.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. Nothing but a broken cell phone and a mildly bruised ego once Marcus saw what had happened.”

“An’ th’ blackout?”

“A power shortage. I’m told it happens frequently here, on account of some road excavation they’re doing in this area. I apologize if it frightened you.”

“So no one’s broken in?”

“No, no one has. I’m confident that whoever was following us won’t be able to find our location. There is nothing that connects this apartment to either you or me. He would have no reason to look for us here.” He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. “It’s fairly late already. Are you certain that you wouldn’t like to lie down?” When she shook her head, he continued, “Well then, are you hungry? Would you care to join me in a late dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

He smiled and turned toward the kitchen. “Now I must tell you, I’m not the most accomplished cook in the world.”

“No problem, sugah.” She raised her voice so that he could hear her from within the kitchen. “Ah’ll eat pretty much anythin’.”

~~

De boys an’ I were on our way back from Xavier’s. Nobody over dere had seen or heard anyt’in’ from Charles since he left f’r de show hours ago. Dey weren’ sure where he was.

Tried callin’ Rogue again on her cell; still couldn’ get t’rough. Even Vic an’ Karen weren’t answerin’ deir phones. Somet’in’ was wrong. I could feel it. Somet’in’ dat made me desp’rately wan’ t’find Rogue an’ make sure dat she was okay.

Merde. I hated not knowin’ where she was. Reminded me o’ dose weeks when she was hidin’ out in Canada wit’out tellin’ me. But somehow dis time it was much worse. Didn’ really know why dat was, jus’ did. Gut instinct, I s’pposed. Tante Mattie would’ve prob’ly called it some kind o’ omen, a warnin’ from de ‘higher powers.’ Truthfully, didn’ much care. Was too busy wrackin’ m’brain f’r poss’ble places she could be.

Not dat I was doin’ so good in dat department. M’ imagination kept runnin’ off on its own, showin’ me images o’ what dat damn stalker would do if he got his hands on her. Didn’ want t’t’ink dat he could be de reason f’r m’bad feelin’s. M’gut was doin’ nose dives down t’my shoes already. I swore by all dat I held holy if dat fils de pute [son of a bitch] hurt her in any way, I’d see his still-beatin’ heart ripped from his chest.

I must’ve been seethin’ too loud ‘cause Henri rested his hand on m’shoulder, tryin’ t’calm me down. Homme had good intentions but bad timin’. Dere was no way I could’ve eased up on m’ boilin’ rage at dat point. How could I when de most important t’ing in m’life was bein’ threatened?

Closed m’eyes, wishin’ wit’ all m’soul dat she could hear me. Where are you, chèrie?

~~

Ah’d said that Ah wasn’t all that tired, but honestly Ah was a little. All that worryin’ -- ‘bout Remy an’ th’ othahs, an’ then ‘bout th’ stalker -- appeared ta be takin’ its toll on mah system. Maybe Ah wasn’t as strong or as invulnerable as Ah’d like ta think Ah was.

Ah was seriously reconsiderin’ Charles’ first offer when mah stomach growled. Remy would’ve been laughin’ his backside off at me right about then. He always teased me ‘bout mah big appetite. What could Ah say? Ah was from th’ South. We ate big down there. But judgin’ from th’ noises Ah still heard from th’ kitchen, dinner was still a li’l ways comin’. Ah sighed a bit. There was no way any kind o’ sleep could find me on an empty belly.

Not bein’ able ta sit around twiddlin’ mah thumbs until it was time ta eat, Ah stood up an’ tried ta find somethin’ that would occupy mah time. Some artwork hung from th’ opposite wall, an’ a small bookcase was set in th’ corner. Normally, Ah wouldn’t mind examin’ them, but Ah was jus’ too weary ta really appreciate either one. Ah wanted somethin’ that required a li’l less brain activity.

Mah eyes wandered back ta th’ sittin’ area an’ caught sight o’ somethin’. Bendin’ down a bit, Ah noticed fo’ th’ first time th’ shelf beneath th’ coffee table. There were a number o’ photo albums underneath an’ Ah pulled several o’ them out. Ah figured that if th’ albums were private Charles wouldn’t have put them in such easy reach o’ houseguests.

Th’ first album Ah opened was mostly made up o’ people in th’ music industry: producers, songwriters, recordin’ artists; people that Charles had business contacts with. Ah recognized a lot o’ them. In fact, Ah’d worked with a number o’ them on mah own records at one time or anothah. There was even a shot o’ Remy with Charles at what looked like a release party.

Ah ran mah finger ovah Remy’s image, as if th’ gesture brought him that much closer ta where Ah was. Th’ picture was smilin’ up at me with that devilish grin he seemed ta have been born with. That smirk that made him look both innocent an’ so unbelievably sexy at th’ same time. It was as if Ah could actu’lly feel his lovin’ arms wrap around me an’ his warm breath whisperin’ in mah ear.

With one last longin’ glance, Ah shut th’ picture book. It always hurt ta remember that he wasn’t with me. Ah s’pposed livin’ with him fo’ th’ past three weeks spoiled me considerably. Ah’d fo’gotten what it was like ta be without him. Th’ blissful li’l vacation we had would have ta end some time, since both o’ us were workin’ on material fo’ our upcomin’ records.

Mutterin’ a curse that Momma would have scolded me fo’ -- but would’ve done Logan proud -- Ah reached fo’ th’ second album. That book had a more intimate feel ta it, filled with personal photos o’ friends an’ fam’ly. There was one picture that drew mah attention. It showed a portrait o’ Charles an’ a pretty, young woman, as well as a small boy. Fo’ some reason th’ boy looked familiar ta me, but Ah couldn’t quite place him. Aftah a few moments o’ tryin’, Ah gave up mah li’l guessin’ game an’ pulled th’ snapshot from its protective coverin’. Turnin’ it ovah, it simply read, ‘Gabby and D.’

He must be a nephew or godson that Ah was introduced ta some time ago, that’s why he seems so familiar, Ah thought as Ah slipped th’ photo back inta place.

Further inta th’ book, Ah came across a faded studio shot o’ th’ young woman. She looked as if she had jus’ graduated from high school, all fresh-faced an’ full o’ wonder. Her smile was confident an’ yet jus’ a tad on th’ shy side, like she hadn’t wanted her picture taken all that much. Ah took th’ photo out an’ read th’ back. ‘Gabrielle Haller.’

Haller?

With tremblin’ hands Ah scrambled back through th’ previous pages ‘til Ah got ta th’ one Ah wanted ta see. Sure enough, th’ woman had th’ same dark hair an’ dark eyes. Th’ li’l boy in th’ picture shared th’ same shy/confident smile as th’ woman he proudly stood next to. There was no doubt that they were mother an’ son. Ah knew it in mah gut before Ah knew it in mah brain. D. Haller. David Haller.

“He is my son.”

Ah jumped up from th’ spot on th’ couch where Ah had sunken into. Never even heard Charles’ approach from behind. Remy’d be disappointed that all his lessons on stealth an’ alertness had gone ta waste.

Ah looked from th’ photo ta Charles, not knowin’ exactly what ta say. What was th’ proper reaction when you’d jus’ learned that th’ president o’ yoah recordin’ label had a psychotic serial killer in his fam’ly? Ah was sorry that yoah son was arrested fo’ rapin’ an’ slaughterin’ those four innocent women?

“Ah-Ah didn’ know ya had a son.”

“Almost no one does,” Charles replied, pullin’ th’ print o’ th’ young woman from mah grasp. “His mother raised him. She and I were never married. We tried for several years to make it work, but our relationship was… complicated. She took primary custody of David.”

Ah knew Ah had no business whatsoevah askin’, but curiosity got th’ better o’ me. “What... happened?”

“To David, you mean. How did my son become a murderer?” Ah watched as his eyes became distant, like he wasn’t really speakin’ ta me anymore. “David has MPD, or Multiple Personality Disorder. There are a number of ‘personas’ residing in his psyche. At any given time, one of his personalities can ‘click’ on and he would seem like a completely different person. His illness had always been manageable, until his mother’s death. From then on, his condition steadily declined. I had no choice but to have him committed to a mental facility last year.”

It was old pain, Ah could see. A wound that had been raw an’ hadn’t had th’ chance ta completely heal. Somehow Ah got th’ feelin’ that he’d never really told this ta anyone else before. Ah was touched that he trusted me enough ta confide in me.

“Ah’m sorry ta hear that,” Ah whispered softly. Mah eyes wandered back ta th’ picture o’ th’ small boy. He looked so innocent an’ carefree. How could a handful o’ years twist him so ruthlessly inta somethin’ dangerous an’ frightenin’? “Do you see him often?”

“No. I haven’t seen David in months. But as I understand it, he’s become quite famous as of late.”

Ah nodded slowly. He was referrin’ ta all th’ media coverage around th’ citywide hunt fo’ David when he’d escaped from th’ mental institution. All those poor victims. It was hard ta equate that cold-blooded killer with th’ smilin’ kid in th’ snapshot before me.

“Ah... Ah thought fo’ a while that... that David was th’ one aftah me,” Ah confessed ta Charles. Ah had no idea why Ah told him. Ah wasn’t even able ta look at him while Ah did -- he was, aftah all, th’ man’s son. But fo’ some reason Ah felt Ah should share somethin’ personal like he’d done. “Ah thought he was th’ one followin’ me... sendin’ me letters an’ gifts...” Mah voice trailed off, not knowin’ where ta go aftah that.

He was quiet fo’ so long that Ah fin’lly raised mah head ta see what his reaction was. He was smilin’ down at me in a reassurin’ manner. Like Momma an’ Reenie used ta do when Ah first started livin’ with them an’ was afraid Ah was gonna get paddled fo’ doin’ somethin’ wrong.

“You thought my son was the one stalking you,” he said, with a wry grin. He reached ovah an’ took mah hand in his, givin’ it a li’l comfortin’ pat. “I find that truly ironic since I was the one who sent you those things.”

~~

Remy was two seconds shy of exploding. “What are we doin’ back here?” he fumed, re-entering the Darkholme estate’s living room. “We already know she ain’ here.”

“What would you rather do, Gumbo?” countered Logan. “Drive ‘round the city with a megaphone an’ see if she’ll answer us?”

Wearily, Remy sank down into one of the chairs and ran a hand through his hair. “I hate bein’ helpless.”

“We all do, boss,” Damien pointed out, resting his palms on the back of the sofa. “But like Logan said, what can we do but wait?”

“Oui, we’re sittin’ here waitin’ while some psycho’s out dere huntin’ her down.”

They all turned at the sound of the front door slamming in the foyer. A few seconds, later Raven came into the entryway, her hands clenched into fists and her eyes shooting shards of ice.

“What have you done to my daughter, LeBeau?” she demanded furiously.

Remy rose to his feet in a gesture of respect that was, at that moment, completely lost on Raven. “Rien [Nothing], madame,” he stated quietly but firmly. “I have done not’in’.”

She either hadn’t heard his words or was deliberately ignoring them as she strode over to where he stood. Jabbing her finger into his chest, she hissed, “At Rogue’s insistence, but against my better judgment, I entrusted my only daughter into your care. And then I receive a phone call from Rosemary saying you have no idea where she is! Perhaps you’re not aware of the fact that there is a raving lunatic who has been after her for months!” She paused long enough to take a breath. “I have never particularly liked you, boy, and now I like you even less.”

“That’s enough, Raven,” Logan interjected, physically getting in between the two as they stared each other down. “It ain’t the Cajun’s fault. There was a media ambush after the awards show an’ we got separated. Rogue went with Xavier, Karen an’ Vic. As far as we know, she’s okay.”

Throwing one final cold stare at Remy, Raven refocused her attention. “Have you tried her cell?”

Logan nodded. “Can’t get through.”

“What about Karen’s? Or this Vic person’s? Or even Xavier’s estate?”

“Tried every one. Nothin’.”

She seemed surprised at that revelation. “In that case, we -- ”

“ -- assume the worst,” Logan finished for her. “Way ahead o’ ya.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phone. “I’m gonna get in touch with Cassidy over at the NYPD, see if he can help us with anythin’.”

As he turned his back on the rest of the occupants of the room, he could almost feel the uneasy tension build. It was so thick he was sure he could reach out and grasp it with his fingers.

Gonna be a real long night, he thought.

~~

Rogue felt her entire body grow cold. It wasn’t like the chill of an evening wind, or even the sharp bite of a frosty drink. It was a complete and instant freezing of the very blood in her veins. Her limbs stiffened and she stood as still as a statue, fighting to comprehend the words that were prodding at the edge of her consciousness. As soon as they were partially registered in her mind, she yanked her hand away from his grip so quickly that she almost lost her balance.

“What did ya say?”

He smiled once again, but somehow it wasn’t as reassuring to her as it had appeared a few minutes ago. “I was the one who sent you those things,” he repeated, moving toward the modest dining table that was set in one corner of the room. After pouring himself a glass of wine, he faced her once more. “The letters, the necklace, the flowers. I trust that you received them all?”

Her head was spinning with so many thoughts, so many questions, but the most prominent of which was, “W-why?”

“Because you belong with me,” he answered simply. “You always have. Since the day I first saw you performing in that club five years ago. A bright, young star -- shining even brighter than the two beside you.”

She took a step back, attempting to distance herself, but her legs bumped into the coffee table. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

“You had so much potential,” he continued, disregarding her question altogether. “The makings of an ultimate performer, and I had to have you.” His eyes became hard and bitter. “But then you began fawning over that Cody boy, that good-for-nothing hick who clung to you like a parasite. It took some planning but he was finally taken cared of.”

Her eyes widened. “‘Taken cared of’?” She abruptly realized that she hadn’t heard anything about Cody since the day they had broken up. Charles wouldn’t have...

No, that’s imposs’ble! she mentally screamed to herself. Not Charles, who was always s’pportin’ us an’ helpin’ us with whatevah we needed.

A realization hit her. “You rigged our career!” she cried out incredulously. “You manipulated th’ people at th’ label inta likin’ our music. All that hard work ‘Ro an’ Jeannie an’ Ah went through didn’ mean diddly squat ‘cause you were back there pullin’ strings an’ influencin’ people!”

For a moment, he looked shocked at her sudden accusation. “I most certainly did not. Whatever success the three of you had was completely on your own merit. I had no hand in it.”

She narrowed her eyes. Was he telling her the truth? She found herself wanting to believe him, wanting to believe that anything they’d received was a result of their own talent and dedication, and not on account of Charles’ sick sense of favoritism. She regarded him warily. He was still leaning against the table across the room, serenely sipping his wine. His stance was placid enough, but she disliked the way his eyes shifted from emotion to emotion with the ease of a hot knife through butter.

Nervously, she slipped her hands into her pockets, a habit she had whenever she became too jumpy and one that she’d been trying to break. Her fingers brushed against the cool surface of her cell phone. At first, she was startled by its presence and couldn’t really recall what the object was, but before long relief flooded her system. She had a way of getting help.

Ah’ll have ta be careful ‘bout this, she thought, slowly unfolding the device, unseen in her pocket. Can’t let him know what Ah’m doin’. From the corner of her eye, she could see Charles pouring himself another glass of wine, all the while reminiscing about their first years in the music industry. Hastily, she switched her cell back on and slipped her finger to the keypad, automatically reaching for the number that would speed dial Remy’s own cell. She waited a few breathless moments for the call to be put through and almost collapsed with joy when she heard his frantic voice echoing from the earpiece.

Unfortunately, Charles seemed to have heard it as well. He raised his head and asked, “Did you say something, my dear?”

“No,” she replied, swiftly lowering the volume on her phone, simultaneously praying that he wouldn’t find it and take it from her. “Must be a TV or somethin’ in th’ apartment next door.”

He apparently accepted her explanation and continued with the task of refilling his wine. She inwardly sighed with relief and hoped to God that Remy could hear the ensuing conversation. She had every intention of learning the stakes with which Charles was playing, and if anything happened to her, she would need someone to bear witness.

~~

The second his phone started to ring, Remy’s heart began to pound. When he caught sight of Rogue’s name on the screen, it started to thunder. But when he was met by silence, he felt it being painfully squeezed like a rubber toy.

He caught the sound of a male voice, one that he couldn’t quite recognize because it was slightly muffled, as if the speaker were across the room. Then Rogue’s voice floated through the open line and he knew a small instance of peace. She was alive, and judging from her tone, more or less okay. She’d been prattling about a television in the next apartment before a rustling noise met his ear. He could only assume that she had somehow covertly opened a channel so that they’d be able to get a fix on her position. As soon as that insight entered his mind, he realized the danger she must have been in.

She called me so dat I could hear what’s goin’ on, he thought, his eyes suddenly growing wide. Putain de merde! Dat was her stalker in de room wit’ her!

He emphatically stomped his foot against the floor several times to get everyone’s attention. In the past thirty minutes, after Logan put his call in to Detective Cassidy, the living room had been filled with police offices and their equipment. When the other occupants of the room finally turned to him, he mouthed Rogue’s name and pointed to the phone.

“I want a trace on that call now!” Cassidy hollered to his men.

Seconds later, the room was alive with activity. Left and right, officers were scurrying about, fulfilling their superior’s orders. One detective took the cell phone from Remy’s hands and placed it onto a specially designed cradle that would allow them to both trace the call and broadcast it through the connecting speakers. In the next instant, Rogue’s voice was heard clearly throughout the quieted room.

“What are you gonna do?” she asked loudly. It sounded as if the person she was speaking to was several feet away from her.

The man whom Remy had heard earlier responded. “I intend on taking you away from here, from the insanity of this city and this business. The public has had sufficient time with you. Now it is my turn.”

The man was distinctly familiar but for some reason, Remy couldn’t place him. He knew that voice, but he couldn’t recall from where he knew it. The answer tickled the outskirts of his brain, mocking his incapability to remember. In the end, it was Rogue who jogged his memory.

“Charles, don’ do this,” she beseeched.

Charles? Remy’s head jerked back in surprise. Judging from the others’ expressions, their reactions mirrored his own. “Mon Dieu…” he breathed in disbelief. “Back at de theatre... we delivered her inta de hands o’ de devil himself.”

~~

“Do you have a specific reason why I should not ‘do this,’ child?” Xavier mocked, slowly sauntering toward the sitting area.

Rogue backed away as he advanced closer. “Vic’s already called Logan. They’ll be here any minute.” Her voice was defiant, confidence jammed into her words.

He scoffed. “I doubt that, love. I doubt that very much.”

“An’ what exactly is that s’pposed ta mean?” she asked hotly. Her tone had hardened in the last few minutes. Any reasonable person, she knew, would be nervously cowering in a corner at that point, when confronted by a man who’d been stalking them for months. But she adamantly refused to do so. There was a part of her that simply could not perceive Charles as a viable threat. She felt safe enough, and was certainly angry enough, to demand answers out of him.

The corner of Charles’ lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Mr. Creed,” he emphasized, “knows better than to cross the man who is supplying him with a very handsome salary.”

Surprise and then distaste played across her features. “You corrupted him?”

A hearty laugh escaped his lips. “My dear, Victor Creed has long since been corrupted. Long before I took him on as an employee.”

“He lied earlier, didn’ he? When he told us that he was gonna call Logan an’ th’ othahs ta let ‘em know where we are. What else have you got him lyin’ ‘bout?”

“Just about anything I want. Were you aware that he was the one who slipped the hallucinogen into Remy’s drink that night in Los Angeles?”

She was becoming increasingly annoyed by the amount of unexpected bombs he was unloading on her in such a short span of time. “What?”

“The drug in Remy’s drink,” he explained, calmly easing himself into an armchair while she remained standing a few feet away. “That infamous night when he was supposed to have impregnated Genevieve. I spent several weeks setting up that situation and the man didn’t even have the decency to take advantage of the perfectly willing female in his bed,” he spat out in disgust.

“You hired that girl ta seduce him?!”

“You sound surprised, my love. I was only doing it for you.” Sighing, he steepled his fingers and elaborated further. “Frankly, you have the worst taste in lovers. After Cody, the johns simply become more and more unworthy of your affections. Especially, this latest one: LeBeau. I will see him dead before he causes you any further pain. It was time you realized that you and I are rightly suited.”

Shaking her head, she whispered, “Yoah crazy.”

“Hardly. As for your previous question, I did not hire Genevieve. I simply made her an offer she did not want to refuse.”

“Hired, paid, bribed -- all th’ same deal, mistah.”

He ignored her sarcastic comment. “Genny had been David’s girlfriend for a time. Their relationship might have evolved into something deeper had it not been for one thing: her obvious obsession with Remy LeBeau.

“It wasn’t even the normal fan-celebrity fanaticism. She was obsessed in every sense of the word. Quite bluntly, it drove David insane. He finally made the decision to break up with her. I, on the other hand, saw an opportunity. It didn’t take much persuading to convince Genny to go along with my plan. In fact, she was more than willing to sleep with LeBeau, conceive his child, and leave you and I completely free of his repulsive existence.

“But the cad couldn’t stay drugged long enough,” Charles grumbled bitterly. “He realized Genny’s intentions and promptly booted her from his room, leaving me with no tangible evidence that he had forced himself on her.”

“Th’ scandal. Th’ paternity suit. That was all yoah doin’.”

He nodded. “You wouldn’t have believed him to be the snake he is unless you had evidence of his betrayal. And so I gave it to you.”

“So she ain’t even pregnant.” It was more of a statement rather than a question.

“On the contrary, she is quite pregnant. In her fifth month, if I’m not mistaken.”

“But you jus’ said that Remy refused ta sleep with her. He ain’t th’ father.”

“He’s not.”

“Then who...?” Her sentence trailed off as the thought slowly entered her mind. With wide eyes, she uttered, “You. It’s yoah baby she’s carryin’.”

“Not according to the courts,” he countered. “For all intents and purposes, the child is LeBeau’s, and he has accepted responsibility for it.”

“Only ‘cause he was ordered to!”

“In your own words, my dear, it’s ‘all the same deal.’ Unless he can prove that the baby is not his, LeBeau will be spending the next eighteen years supporting another man’s child.”

“An’ how did you falsify th’ results o’ th’ paternity test?”

He smiled at his own cleverness. “It’s amazing what ex-lovers are willing to do to fulfill old debts. Moira had several... favors that she owed me.”

Lowering her gaze, Rogue tried to make sense of everything he had just confessed to her. He’d admitted to planting Genevieve in Remy’s hotel room with the sole purpose of ruining his reputation and placing him in legal jeopardy. And all on account of their being ‘destined’ to be together.

She wrapped her arms around herself as a shudder ran through her body. “That’s quite a fancy scheme ya got there, Ah’ll admit. But you didn’ bother ta consider th’ fact that Ah don’ belong with you, Charles. Ah love Remy.”

“And yet here you are with me and not with him.”

“Ah’m only here because we were avoidin’ th’ man who was follo-- ” Her eyes snapped back to meet his. “Who was that followin’ us before? Someone else who owes ya a ‘favor’?”

“Not exactly. His name is Erik Lehnsherr, a friend. It was his son, Pietro, who grabbed you outside the theatre. I needed a feasible excuse to get you to this apartment.”

“This apartment who no one s’pposedly knows about?” she sneered. “Whose name is on th’ lease?”

“Genevieve’s. This was her home until I arranged for her move across town.”

“An’ Ah s’ppose yoah th’ one puttin’ th’ cash inta her bank account.”

For a moment, he looked taken aback by her words, but then he smiled. “I see LeBeau has been conducting a little research. The payments are for medical expenses and any other supplies she may need for when the baby finally arrives.”

“You’ve jus’ about thought o’ ev’rythin’, haven’t ya?”

“I’ve covered my bases, so to speak.”

“Not quite. What’s ta stop me from walkin’ right out that front door?” she asked, gesturing behind her. “Hole number one in yoah master plan, sugah.”

She pivoted on her heel and began marching toward the exit. Halfway to her destination, she heard the distinct click of a firearm being cocked and stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, she turned around. The barrel of the gun was aimed directly at her chest.

“I have waited for you for a very long time, Rogue,” he intoned leisurely. “I swore to myself that I would bring you to me by any means necessary.” Staring at her intently, he stressed, “Any. Means. Necessary.”

The cold chill of fear seeped into her body once again. He had just pushed himself into the category of ‘viable threat.’

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the matching armchair across the coffee table. Silently, she obeyed. “Even if I had let you leave this apartment,” he continued, “there is no place in the world you could go without my knowing. In this city, on tour, down in New Orleans. Even Logan’s cabin in Canada. No where.” He noticed the slightly questioning expression on her face at the mention of Logan’s getaway home. “I take it you weren’t aware that Logan and I are both veterans of war. You learn a lot about a man while serving in the same platoon.”

“He’s part o’ yoah...?” It was difficult to form the thought much less ask the question.

“No,” Charles answered without hesitation. He watched as Rogue sighed in relief. “He has too much honor,” he sneered the word, “to even consider such actions.”

It was then that Karen chose to rejoin them in the living room. “Rogue!” she called cheerfully, busy counting the dollar bills in her hand as she entered. “You should join the poker game the guys have set up in the backroom. I am killing them. Looks like those tips Guido gave me are -- ” She froze when she caught sight of the gun in Charles’ hand. “Oh, my God.”

~~

“Drive faster!” Raven shouted at the officer behind the wheel.

They were speeding across town, traveling toward the apartment complex where Xavier was holding Rogue and Karen. The police trace had taken a few minutes longer than usual because of some form of scrambler field surrounding the room Rogue was in.

Homme was prepared, Remy assumed, pressing his cell back against his ear. They had disconnected the phone from the bulky tracing device and had reattached it to a more mobile one. Cassidy and a handful of other detectives were listening in through several taps into the line.

A few moments earlier, they had heard Rogue threaten to walk out the door. The simplicity of the threat was so absurd it almost made them smile. Logan had laughed out loud when they told him what she’d said. He beamed with pride, stating, “Girl’s got brass.”

Over the clicking of Rogue’s heels against the flooring, they weren’t able to catch the sound of the gun being cocked, and so they were somewhat puzzled at her voluntary return into the room. It was only by Karen’s reappearance and reaction that they recognized the cause.

“He’s holding them with a weapon,” Raven murmured, horrified. Her eyes briefly met with Remy’s as the realization hit them both. Twin expressions of panic rose to their faces just before Raven began yelling at the driver of the police van.

From over the line, Remy could hear Rogue attempting to reason with the man keeping them hostage.

“What’s gonna come o’ this, Charles?” she asked. Judging from the crinkling noises, she had risen to her feet. “Where can we poss’bly go that th’ police won’t be able ta find us?”

“Smart move, kid,” mumbled Logan from beside Raven. “Tryin’ ta get him ta talk so that even if they jackrabbit, we’ll be able ta follow ‘em.”

“The New York Police Department has its limitations,” came Charles’ response to her question. “I doubt very much that their reach extends outside the coun-- ” A soft rustling noise came across the phone. “What are you -- ?” His voice abruptly became clearer and much louder as he bellowed, “Insolent little witch! How long has this line been open?” A moment of silence passed before, “How long?!”

“Long enough fo’ them ta throw yoah backside in th’ state pen,” Rogue shot back audaciously. “Ah’m willin’ ta bet that th’ cops, with all their ‘limitations,’ are on their way right now ta arrest yoah sorry self.” Her voice sounded steady and strong, full of disgust and contempt for the person she was speaking to.

Almost dere, mignonne, Remy answered her unconsciously, more to appease himself than anything else. Almost dere.

She carried on with her provocation. “Way Ah hear tell, prisoners ain’t all that welcomin’ ta rich, white folk. ‘Specially not famously rich, white fo-- ”

A sudden gunshot echoed in their ears, followed almost immediately by a deafening scream.