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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
 
 
 

The Game of Empires - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones
Last updated: 02/13/2010 03:54:13 PM

Chapter 10

Rogue sat quietly in the back seat of the cab, her eyes fastened on the scenery passing by outside the window. A thin piece of paper, a computer printout, was folded into quarters and clutched in her hands. After a moment, she unfolded the page and looked down at it as she had many times since she’d entered the cab. The form was a standard medical form, filled with dozens of possible laboratory results printed in tiny letters, each with a convenient check box located to the left. Only one of the little boxes was marked with an off-center, typewritten "X", and beside it was typed the word "negative". Rogue folded up the printout and turned back to the window, her heart numb. She’d been so sure.

The doctor had told her that her symptoms were most likely caused by stress. Rogue had been forced to acknowledge that yes, she had been under a great deal of pressure in the past few months, though she certainly hadn’t told the doctor what had caused it. But she’d been convinced, finally, by her third missed period that there could be more to her mysterious illness than just a heartache.

Face it, she told herself as she folded the paper carefully along its well-worn creases. There ain’t nothin’ left. Not of him. Not of us. But it had been wonderful to hope for a little while that some small piece of what they’d had might have survived. That hope had softened the pain of losing Remy -- of knowing that she had played a part in his death. His suicide, she corrected. Or was it murder? She wasn’t certain she would ever know.

She closed her eyes, letting the memory swallow her.

"What?!" The name Sinister was like a shock of ice water. Her stomach clenched painfully tight as she stared at Remy. "You were in bed with one of our greatest enemies?! For how long, Remy? How long?"

She was amazed by how much it hurt. She’d been trying to prepare for this moment, to steel herself against whatever horrible knowledge she would have to face. Ever since she’d found Remy in chains and realized that he was ready to force the issue, she’d been trying to come to terms with the inevitable. She thought she had. But the tiny fear she’d been shoving down into the dark corners of her mind exploded into terrifying certainty-- the painful knot in her gut, the sense of keen betrayal, the anger and disappointment. . . they were her own feeling to be sure, but they were echoed by something else inside her, like a shadow heart that now threw her own feeling back at her redoubled.

Ever since Seattle, she’d been secretly afraid that not all of what she’d absorbed from Remy had left her. That there was still a kind of... imprint of his mind in hers. She couldn’t explain how or why. Her powers usually didn’t work that way. Parts of both Cody and Carol Danvers’ minds had remained with her for years, until the Siege Perilous and torn them out of her, but that had been like having additional minds inside her own. Independent minds that were capable of fighting her for control of her body. This was different. Remy’s imprint, or shadow, or whatever it was, was a part of her.

"Ain’ like dat, Rogue," Remy protested and she felt a tiny echo of his frustration. It was almost as if they shared some kind of empathic connection, except that it only went one direction. And it only worked for feelings about things that had happened before Israel. "It was somet’ing I’d done, an’ wasn’ too proud of -- but once I joined de X-Men, I put all dat behind me. Jus’ like you did once, chere. Remember?"

Rogue ducked her head. She remembered. She remembered how uncertain she felt those first days with the X-Men. How awkward, as if, no matter how hard she tried to do and say the right things, she never could. How often she despaired of ever being able to live up to what she aspired to be. And how often she disappointed the people she cared about. Even without her powers, she would have known that Remy shared some of those same feelings, and the gentle reverberation in her mind confirmed it.

"You cannot set your past aside!" Erik glared at Remy. "A man’s character is the sum of his actions."

Rogue ignored Erik’s sneering response as nothing but inflammatory rhetoric. She wasn’t quite sure why Remy wanted to go through with this insanity. Whoever Erik the Red was, his "trial" was about judgment, not justice, and until now, she’d thought Remy understood the difference between the two. But maybe this was the only was he felt he could get the words out -- to have them bodily dragged out of him.

Her momentary reflection was broken as Erik called Psylocke to his "stand". Rogue stared at Elizabeth in puzzlement. What could she have to do with all of this? She and Remy had never been close, so it seemed strange that Elizabeth would have such intimate knowledge of what Remy had been hiding from them all for so long. Rogue fought the immediate suspicions that leapt to mind as some invisible force dragged the telepath up to the stand. Oddly, she felt nothing from Remy. She had almost become accustomed to the additional presence in her mind, which had been growing steadily stronger over the past few hours.

She glanced over at him, only to find his watching Psylocke with a mixture of expectation and curiosity.

"I know the names of some of those he assembled..." Betsy answered Erik, her face betraying her reluctance. "Arclight, Scrambler, Scalphunter, Vertigo, Harpoon, Riptide... " Rogue’s stomach clenched into a hard painful ball as Betsy raised her hands to her head and knotted her fingers in her hair. "...and Sabretooth."

Rogue shivered in the cold damp of the cavern. The knowledge was there, just around the corner in her mind. She knew that if she thought about it, even for just a moment, she would know what it was.

Warren saved her from that discovery as he lunged toward Remy. "You created the Marauders?! You cost me my wings?! You did that to me?" The cords stood out in his neck as he strained against his chains. "And then you stood by my side -- pretended to be my friend -- and never said a word about any of it?"

Rogue’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what was more frightening: Warren’s berserker rage or the utter lack of expression on Remy’s face. Was he there? she wondered in horror. Did he see Warren crucified on that wall?

Erik watched them all with a knowing smirk. Then he swung around and pointed directly at her. "The court calls the reformed villainess Rogue to the defendant’s box."

Something grabbed Rogue. Suddenly she was helpless in the grip of some force that took hold of her body and made it move. It was like one of those nightmares where you tried and tried to run but your limbs were so heavy you couldn’t lift them. Dread filled her.

Erik the Red -- whoever he really was -- stared at her, his lips twisted into an expression of cruel triumph. Whatever Remy had done, whatever the truth behind the shadow forms that whispered meaningless words in her mind, she knew that Erik already knew the answer. This mockery of a trial was purely for his amusement, and it made her suddenly furious that he had the power to torture them with his ugly game. It made her even angrier that her feelings weren’t echoed back at her, doubled and tripled. It was Remy who should be most furious about all of this.

The grip that held her forced her to her knees, and her gaze locked with Remy’s. She stared into their red depths, hoping against hope to see something there that she couldn’t feel, but knowing it was useless. There was nothing in his eyes but a flat serenity that went beyond terror. He was resigned to it, she realized. No, more than that. He was waiting expectantly. Not with any pleasure, but she knew in that instant that he wanted this. For a moment, she couldn’t understand why. Why submit to the humiliation of this mock trial and force the rest of them to go through it too? Why didn’t he just tell them -- right now even, and spare them all any more of Erik’s abuse? The only weapon Erik had to use against them was Remy’s silence. So why didn’t Remy fight back and take that one weapon away?

And then it hit her. The answer was simple. It was pure, unadulterated cowardice that kept him silent. She felt a surge of outrage, mixed with shame. She wanted to slap him and tell him in no uncertain terms how she felt about being dragged through his muck just so that he didn’t have to find the strength to come clean himself. But she didn’t get the chance to open her mouth before her feelings began to echo back from the shadow inside her -- not doubled or tripled, but a hundred times as intense.

Coward! her inner voice screamed at him. It was as if her anger had struck a nerve at just the right frequency so that it resonated, growing stronger and stronger until something would have to break beneath its assault. Rogue’s vision began to go red with the kind of horrible rage she had only felt a few times in her life. Her desire to inflict pain became a desire to kill. She was combat trained. It would be a simple thing to break his neck. The stocks that imprisoned him would make it even easier. Her fingers twitched as she imagined the blow, and then a bolt of pure horror shot through her at the thought, shattering her fury.

She jerked back against the force that propelled her ever closer to Remy in near panic. "Don’t make me do this... I don’t want to do this... you can’t -- " One trip through his memories had nearly driven her insane. Now, with this thing leftover inside her mind, she was terrified by what his agonized guilt might do to her.

Remy misinterpreted her fear. "Feel no responsibility, chere. It ain’ your doin’." His voice was gentle. "Jus’ please find a way t’ forgive me f’ what you’re about t’ see."

No! Ah can’t control this! she wailed silently. It had suddenly ceased to be about what he’d done, or even whether she could forgive him. She couldn’t help the half-sob that escaped her as their lips touched. The transfer started as a trickle of thoughts and impressions that quickly grew into a torrent that swept over her. Remy’s mind engulfed hers, his memories becoming so real and sharp that she could almost believe she was there.

She saw, almost in review, the weeks of research and careful manipulation that went into building the Marauders. The surveillance, the interviews. Those who accepted and those who did not. She felt Remy’s various impressions of those mutants as if they were her own. It was a good team. Tough. Mean. And with a wide variety of skills and experience that would make them versatile as well. They should be able to handle whatever Sinister had in mind for them.

Then the sense of overview went away and her attention coalesced on a single point in time as Remy led the Marauders into the tunnels. She felt his dread, like a hard knot in her stomach, as they moved deeper and deeper into the tunnels. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. She wanted to run, but she knew that the Marauders at her back had orders from Sinister. There was no way out except to go forward and hope that it wasn’t going to be as bad as she feared.

They broke out into one of the main caverns where the Morlocks lived. She had only a moment to take in the sight of the colony of mutants going about their daily lives before the Marauders began their attack. She noted with horror that there were children in the crowd, and her mind immediately catalogued a number of details that all led to the same conclusion -- these people weren’t looking for trouble. They weren’t prepared for it. These were ordinary people -- families -- and she had just unleashed the Marauders on them.

"Nooooo!" Her scream was lost in the sudden madness. Desperate to stop them, she charged a handful of cards and threw, but her aim was wrecked at the last moment by a flash of agony. The multiple explosions outlined Sabretooth in fire as he stood over her. The claws of one hand dripped blood.

"Huh uh." He wagged one finger at her playfully as she pressed one hand across the gashes he’d torn in her chest. "The boss man said ta make sure ya behaved."

Mind dulled with shock and horror, Rogue rolled over onto her stomach. From there, she could see the massacre taking place all around her. The screams of the defenseless Morlocks echoed in her ears, mixed with the mocking jeers and even laughter of their killers. She vomited, sickened by what she had done.

Sabretooth made a disgusted noise. "Yer soft, LeBeau." He stepped over her and then leapt toward the nearest of the running Morlocks. He looked exactly like a lion angling in toward a fleeing wildebeest. And just like the lion, he reached out one clawed hand and snagged the fleeing prey, bringing it to the ground.

A small sound grabbed her attention. Rogue felt like she was frozen in place, unable to look away from the carnage, but the sound demanded recognition and she finally forced herself to turn away. Stunned, she saw a small child sitting on the rocks, not twenty feet from her. A little girl holding desperately tight to a stuffed animal, her eyes terrified and confused. The Marauders must have stepped right past her in their eagerness to kill.

Rogue flexed her fingers as the possibilities raced through her mind. She had her powers. She could feel the tingle, like a premonition, in her fingertips. More than enough to bring this entire cavern down on the Marauders’ heads. Then they would all die together. The little girl turned in her direction, and Rogue closed her eyes in shame. Or she could take that one child and run. Save her, maybe, but leave the Marauders alive. Leave herself alive, too. That was perhaps the worst.

Dizzy and weak, she climbed to her feet and staggered toward the little girl. A shout from one of the Marauders behind her was like a galvanizing slap. Her mind sharpened as she turned her drunken stagger into a sprint. She grabbed up the girl, counting on her agility to get them both across the dangerously uneven ground and back into the main tunnels where she could lose them both in the maze.

The dark, curving passages faded as Rogue came back to herself. For a moment she was disoriented, unable to figure out where she was. But then she saw Remy in front of her, still locked in the ridiculously appropriate stocks, and she regained her identity in a rush along with her memories.

Pure fury swept through her, evoking an equal echo that was somehow deeply satisfying. "How... dare... you?" she grated as the power flared to glowing life in her hands. "How dare you violate me like that?" Everything looked a little different, and she vaguely recognized the effect of Remy’s powers. She wasn’t certain what caused the change, nor did she care. The force that had held her on her knees was almost tangible, like a smoky black hand on her mind. Her first instinct was to use her mutant strength to try to break away, but the psyche she had just absorbed gave her a different solution. She didn’t understand how, but suddenly she was sliding around the black hand, avoiding its clutch, and then she was free.

Cards flared to life in her hands. She wasn’t even sure where she got them from. "You mentally raped me!" she yelled at Erik as she drew back to throw. But it wasn’t a wild gesture. The trajectories and angles flashed through her mind with amazing precision. "Your justice lef’ me pregnant with a new personality -- an’ the exact one ah wanted ta get ta know like a real, normal woman!"

That was the core of Rogue’s pain. This complete melding of Remy’s personality with her own was wrong. They’d done it by accident once, and Rogue had buried the memories she’d gotten from him as deeply as she could. In part because she didn’t know how to deal with the truth, but even more than that, she couldn’t stand the knowledge of every single thing that was in his mind and heart. It left nothing for them to discover about each other. Nothing to share that she didn’t already know. Nothing in him that could be given as a gift, or as a symbol of trust. How could they have a relationship then, when relationships were all about growing closer and learning more and more about each other?

Without hesitation, she threw. One card skimmed just past Erik’s ear, and she felt a stab of triumph as he began to chide her for her poor throw. Hank was far smarter than that, though. Rogue felt a burst of affection for the scientist as he raised a hand to shield his face long before it became obvious that the card she’d thrown would impact on his manacles. She didn’t wait around to watch Hank or the others free themselves, though. She launched herself bodily at Erik and drove her fist directly into his face.

"You’re gonna pay for what you’ve done!" Her mind flipped through the possibilities -- how to bring him down. How to hurt him. Her knowledge of such things was amplified by Remy’s, and she found herself debating the cruelest punishment she could inflict on him. "Better yet, you’re gonna suffer! Suffer like you’ve made me suffer! No matter who ya are!" Every hope she’d had was ground into dust. She would have waited for Remy to find a way to tell her -- for him to eventually come to trust her that much. And maybe, because of her love or even just because of the X-Men, he would have found the courage to confess all of this on his own. But Erik had offered him an easier way out and he’d taken it. Even though Erik was obviously using this to rip the X-Men apart, Remy had still gone along with it. Having just absorbed his psyche, she knew without a doubt that he understood what Erik was doing. He just didn’t care. Rogue wasn’t sure which of them she was more furious with.

Though her punch staggered him, Erik only laughed as he sent a bolt of pure energy into the ceiling. An ominous rumble of shifting stone answered, and all eyes momentarily lifted. The sudden threat sapped Rogue’s anger before it turned into a rage. Getting squashed would certainly solve her personal problems, but she was still hoping for a better solution.

"Ah’ll help Gambit," she told Hank grimly as the other started giving instructions. That was her first priority. Once they got away from Erik, they would have time to sort out the rest.

"No, Rogue! Save yourself!" Remy craned his head to look up at her. She was a little surprised that he was conscious since she still had his powers. She didn’t have time to worry about it now, though. And she certainly wasn’t going to just leave him.

May nevah speak to him again, though, she told herself. Not for a while at least. Not until she was certain he understood just how angry she was about being used.

Another step brought her to his side and she knelt to examine the stocks, trying not to panic as a chunk of stone crashed down only a few feet from them. But even using Remy’s honed thieving skills, she had to search for a moment to find the mechanism.

Remy was staring at the newly fallen rock. "Let the walls come down on me, chere." His voice was utterly defeated. Rogue paused to stare at him, too stunned for words. He wanted to die -- it was written in his face. If she left him there, would he really just watch the ceiling fall in on him? She was terribly afraid that the answer was yes, and that realization rekindled her fury.

She shattered the stocks that held him as the echo in her mind intensified. "Ah won’t jus’ leave ya in here to die." This wasn’t the Remy LeBeau she knew. This wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. And now, suddenly, she had to wonder if the man she loved was just a facade. If this wasn’t the real man, and she had just been an idealistic, deceived fool. In that single moment, she utterly despised him.

She was unprepared for the resonance that hit her. Until then, she’d been able to handle the feedback, but suddenly she was overwhelmed by a wave of loathing that seared her mind and heart. "And self-pity really doesn’t suit you, Remy," she added coldly.

Psylocke was gesturing wildly to her as larger and larger sections of stone crashed to the floor between them. But she didn’t need the shadow telepath to escape. She was quite capable of taking care of this herself. Rogue grabbed Remy’s arm and powered into the air.

"Rogue! Psylocke’s over -- "

"We ain’t goin’ Psylocke’s way!" She told him as they climbed rapidly through the breach that the collapsing stone had created and sailed out into the clear Antarctic sky.

They cleared the area of collapse, and she could hear the wealth of relief in Remy’s voice. "Rogue, I... thanks f’ believin’ in me. I promise what I was ain’ what I am now."

Liar, she thought succinctly. Ya haven’t changed as much as ya want ta think. If ya had, you’d a’ found a way ta tell the truth before it came ta this.

She stared down at him in a mixture of anger and disgust. "Who said ah believe ya, Remy?" The emotions that vibrated inside her were beyond her control. She was furious that he had used her, and furious with herself for having fallen for him. She would never have admitted that she was capable of true hatred, but as her own feelings continued to be reflected back at her, amplified beyond reason by the shadow imprint of a man who hated himself far more than she ever would, she was forced to accept the truth. It made her feel as if her heart had frozen solid, but at least that was better than hurting. Rogue twisted free of the hand that gripped her wrist, and watched in satisfaction as his eyes went wide in stunned betrayal.

"Rogue--?!"

He fell hard and rolled down a snowy incline. "Ah jus’ said ah wouldn’t let ya die in there," she called down to him. "Out here, it’s up to you whether you live or die. Ah don’t care anymore."

"Rogue! I don’t care if you leave me here, chere, but you have to understand -- "

"You think ah can understand you?" The question was scathing. She’d been trying to understand him for a long time. The only problem was, she’d wanted to use her heart, not her powers. "You think wrong, mistuh."

Remy’s eyes narrowed angrily. "Fine," he spat. "I’ve earned your hatred. But at least get me somewhere dat’ll give me a chance t’ get back home."

"Home?" The word evoked a new flood of emotional feedback. Remy obviously had a bitter association with the concepts of home and family, which only served to fuel Rogue’s anger further. She gave him a mocking stare. "You ain’t got no home, sugah. Not with me... not with the X-Men."

"Fend for yourself," she told him. "You seem to have done a good job of that in the past." And maybe it’s all ya’ve evah been good at.

Remy stared at her, his expression disbelieving. "But... I love you."

She couldn’t help her cold smile. "You’re honest with the people you love, Gambit." She flipped the card she’d been holding, imbedding it in the snow at his feet with practiced ease. "Otherwise... it’s a gamble."

They stared at each other for a moment longer as the meaning of what she’d done sank in. Rogue could see it in his face as his eyes went dead and his face emptied of all expression. She felt extremely satisfied. He had expected to lose everything when the truth about his involvement with the Massacre was revealed. The only hope he’d held was that she might find a way to love him despite that. Now that hope was completely destroyed, just like hers had been.

Rogue rose on the frigid winds and, turning her back to him, flew away.

 

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