The Game of Empires - REVIEW THIS STORY

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

Chapter 26

There was no way to guess how well the P-Noot would work on high-level telepaths without experimenting. Unfortunately, capturing an alpha telepath was nearly impossible, which meant they would have to venture into the field. Of course, taking the device out came with its own set of risks, but that couldn’t be helped. A second prototype was already under construction, in case something happened to the first.

One of the staffers nodded. "Yes, sir." He slid a surveillance photograph toward Donovan. "Elizabeth Braddock, codename Psylocke." The picture showed the Asian woman with purple hair sitting at a small table at a New York street café.

Donovan looked up in surprise. "An X-Man?"

The staffer, Captain Leeson, nodded. "For several reasons, sir: First, the X-Men have a known base of operations, so we know where to find them. Second, if we can neutralize one of their telepaths, it will further handicap the most telepath-intensive of the mutant teams."

Donovan stared at him in consternation. "It will also bring the rest of the X-Men down on us like a ton of bricks. Even without telepaths, they’re not to be underestimated, as our recent encounter with them at the Grayscape facility illustrates." He paused to see if the gathered officers had absorbed his words. A sudden thought caught him. "Why not Phoenix?"

Captain Leeson frowned. "Given the various transformations she’s gone through—including dying and being resurrected—we didn’t think she would provide representative test results, sir."

"But the fact that Elizabeth Braddock wasn’t born Asian doesn’t bother you?"

His comment spurred a short, intense flurry of whispers near the other end of the table. Captain Leeson flashed his fellow officers a dirty glance before returning his attention to Donovan.

"That might skew the data, sir," he admitted, shuffling his papers. "However, our choices are limited."

Donovan frowned. "What about Emma Frost?"

Leeson consulted his information. "We discarded her because of her position as headmistress of a school, General. There might be public outcry if any of the students were injured, even if they are mutants." He shrugged. "For that reason, we also discarded Jonothan Starsmore, one of her students."

Donovan leaned back in his seat. "Cable?"

"Location unknown, sir," another officer piped up.

Captain Leeson looked over at the other man. "And that pretty much sums up all the other alpha telepaths on our list, sir—Location Unknown."

Donovan decided not to challenge that statement. High-power mutants kept their locations hidden for good reason. "So what’s your plan?"

Leeson returned his attention to the general. "It’s pretty fluid, sir. The X-Men frequent a bar in Westchester, usually in small groups. We’d like to set up an ambush there, but the timing can’t be predicted."

"Probability of success?"

Leeson shrugged. "We’ll either get lucky or we won’t, sir."

Well, Donovan thought, that was pretty much the way of it when dealing with top-end mutants. "Make sure Wolverine isn’t there," he told the captain. "That’s an automatic no-go." The mutant knew military operations far too well.

Leeson nodded. "Yes, sir."

Remy settled at the edge of the red and white checkered cloth Rogue had spread on the ground, watching with interest as she unpacked the basket beside her. Above them an ancient cottonwood spread its limbs, bathing their picnic in shade. The mansion was just visible on the far side of the lake, but Remy didn’t want to be reminded of any of that right now. He turned his back to the distant structure and concentrated on the woman in front of him.

They had decided they might do some swimming in the lake later in the afternoon, and in that spirit, Rogue had chosen to wear a bright yellow bikini and a pair of denim shorts. Not the Remy was going to complain; the view was spectacular. He poured wine while Rogue set out various dishes. When she was done, she brushed an errant hair out of her face with one gloved hand and flashed him a nervous smile.

"Ah hope ya hungry, sugah."

He grinned, biting back the first response that came to mind. He wasn’t quite ready to dive back into innuendo-land. They were friends again, something he hadn’t believed possible. He wasn’t entirely certain how ready he was to take their relationship further, let alone wanting to push her in that direction.

Though he didn’t mind this romantic little picnic she’d cooked up. On the contrary.

"Starvin’," he answered and handed her a glass of wine. "Dis is really nice, chere."

She flushed, looking pleased. "Ya ought ta be impressed, sugah." She cast a sly gaze his way. "Ah don’t cook foh most people."

Remy chuckled, twirling his glass in his fingers. "An’ what did I do t’ deserve such an honor?"

Her playful expression disappeared. Solemn green eyes speared deep into his own. "Ya forgave me."

A cold wave washed across Remy, bringing with it memory and emotions he usually kept buried. He’d come so close to starving to death, freezing to death... to killing himself just to put an end to his misery.

He sighed, shifting so that he was leaning on one elbow with his lanky form stretched out along the edge of the cloth. Perhaps it was time to talk about it.

"What really happened out dere?" He watched his hands as they toyed with the wineglass, only risking a quick glance at the woman seated across from him.

Rogue blew out her breath in a sigh. "Ah don’t honestly know, sugah. Maybe Jean could explain it, but... somethin’ strange happened when ah absorbed ya in the Citadel."

"More’n de fact dat I didn’ drop?" It had been distinctly strange to feel his mind and powers drain away without spinning down into a dark mass of oblivion himself.

Rogue nodded. "Ah don’t know if Erik was doin’ somethin’, or if it was just yoh telepathic weirdness reactin’ with ma powers, which are psi-based, too..."

Remy willed himself not to react to the mention of his disconnected telepathy. "It didn’ happen de first time y’ absorbed m’ powers."

"No, ah think it was Erik—the Shadow King." She glanced quickly at him, regret shining from her eyes. "It was more than just absorbin’ ya powers. Ah had ya memories, yeah, but everything ya felt, ah felt, too, only it was thrown back at me a hundred times stronger. Ah felt those emotions just like they were mine, an’ eventually ah couldn’t tell what was real an’ what wasn’t." She shrugged. "Ya thought ya deserved to die foh helpin’ destroy the Morlocks an’... ah obliged ya."

Remy absorbed her explanation with an almost overwhelming sense of relief. She’d never honestly hated him enough to kill him. That thought had haunted him ever since he’d watched her fly away through the howling Antarctic wind.

"I wonder why he did it," he finally said. "De Shadow King, I mean. He didn’ know about—" He waved a hand in vague circles, trying to encompass the enormity of his past without putting any of it into words. "So why bother wit’ me?"

Hesitantly, Rogue reached for his hand. Her gloved fingers curled around his own and, strangely, something inside Remy loosened another notch.

"You’re more important ta people than ya’ll let yourself believe, sugah. What happened in Antarctica went a long way towards guttin’ the X-Men."

"Betrayal will do dat." He looked away, out over the lake toward the mansion.

Rogue tightened her grip on his hand. "It’s true ya should have told us, Remy. Ya should have trusted us that much." He turned back to her, surprised by her vehemence. She flashed him a weak smile. "But if there’s anybody who’s got good reason not t’ trust the X-Men, it’s you. When ah think about what the Professor did—" She shook her head sharply, anger momentarily lighting her features.

Remy held up a hand to forestall her. "Let’s not go dere, ’kay?" The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about Xavier. "I’d much rather spend de time enjoyin’ de company..." He reached out to take a piece of fried chicken. "An y’ excellent food."

"All right," she agreed, taking a chicken leg of her own.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Remy let his thoughts drift, determined to steer clear of weighty, painful matters. He found himself sifting through memories of Rogue. Perhaps strongest in his mind was that short, bittersweet time they’d spent in each other’s arms in Antarctica. It had been an incredibly selfish thing to do, and yet, given the chance to make the choice again he didn’t think he could deny himself the sweet warmth of her touch, or the soul-deep fire her passion ignited in him.

He reached for her with one gloved hand, letting the backs of his fingers trail the length of her thigh. Rogue didn’t flinch or move away. When he hazarded a look into her face, he found her smiling softly.

Then, with a nervous twist to her lips, she sat forward and began to rummage in the picnic basket. "Hang on, sugah. Ah’ve got somethin’—" She found what she was looking for and sat back. A locket on a heavy gold chain dangled from her fingers. Without looking at him, she fastened it around her neck. "There."

Remy watched her curiously. When she looked at him, he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Rogue laid a hand flat across the locket at her throat, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "Ah asked Lilandra foh a favor." She lowered her hand. "It’s a power-suppressor."

Remy stared at her as the magnitude of the action hit him. This was Rogue, voluntarily setting her powers aside. Making herself vulnerable. For him. For them.

Carefully moving his plate out of the way, he stripped off his gloves. With only a moment’s hesitation, he reached over and laid his hand on her thigh. His fingers tightened involuntarily. Her skin was warm and as smooth as silk.

She covered his hand with her own.

Remy cracked a smile. "Dis mean y’ brought me out here t’ seduce me, ma chere?"

She laughed, the sound bright and silvery. "Ah’m considerin’ it, sugah."

After that, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to draw her down beside him on the checkered blanket. He kissed her softly and felt her arms slide around him. When they parted, she sighed and tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder. Remy held her close, relishing the feel of her body lying flush with his.

"Do ya remember our first picnic, sugah?" Rogue asked a moment later.

Remy had to smile. "I remember accidentally hittin’ y’ in de face wit’ dat pie y’ baked."

She laughed outright. "Ah was so mad. There ah was, tryin’ ta impress ya with mah fine Southern cookin’..."

Remy sighed. "An’ I was too busy fightin’ wit’ Bishop t’ appreciate it. Y’ know what’s weird, t’ough?" He glanced down at Rogue, who shook her head.

"What?"

"Bishop. Dat was de first time he warned us de X-Men would be betrayed. An’ I knew he was tellin’ de truth. Deep in m’ gut, like. I didn’ know why at de time, o’ course, but I knew he was right."

Rogue’s grip on him tightened. "It was still part a ya past, even if ya couldn’t remember it."

Remy stared blankly at the spreading branches that arched above them. "Yeah. Accordin’ t’ Xavier, I’ve lived through it all, what, two, t’ree times? Makes m’ head hurt jus’ t’inking about it."

"It’d make anybody crazy, sugah."

He paused. "Does dat mean y’ agree wit’ me not wantin’ Jeannie an’ de rest messin’ wit’ m’ head?"

Rogue was quiet as the moments stretched. Her fingers traced an idle design on his chest. "Ah like ya just the way ya are," she finally said.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Remy hugged her tight.

She returned the embrace, then pulled away just far enough to look up into his face. "But what if we can’t take the Shadow King without an omega telepath?"

Remy didn’t want to think about it. "I don’ know, chere. I guess we’ll have t’ deal wit’ it if de time ever comes." He dipped his head to plant a kiss on her mouth, then a second. As he’d hoped, Rogue responded ardently, and he soon forgot all about Xavier, the Shadow King, and a lost young price named Rem’aillon.