Whispers

 
 
Rogue's powers had returned the same day as Professor Xavier. Within a week, she had Logan and the Professor working overtime to try and help her master them. She had regular sessions practicing on Logan since he could heal from the consequences. The Professor and her combed through her mind every evening, looking for the secret to how her brain organized and controlled things. Every week, she ran through another set of tests with Hank.

So Rogue wasn't really all that surprised when both Logan and the Professor came down to see her.

"Again, kid?" Logan was never much for words.

She just nodded. Kitty seemed to be the worst offender in the stay away from my skin department.

The three men huddled around her test results, trying to see if anything was any different from normal. Logan pretty much ignored Hank's longwinded and indecipherable explanations, but the Professor nodded politely from time to time.

The door suddenly crashed open and all of them looked up. Rogue saw a bit of white hair fluttering, and then suddenly another crash on the wall outside and Storm braced one hand against the inside of the doorframe and with a tremendous yank, pulled in a tall, lanky guy around Rogue's age.

"Stormy..." he started.

"Do NOT call me that!" Storm shouted.

Rogue giggled. It was the first time she had ever seen Storm lose her cool. Her pure white hair looked like she'd been in a fight and her shirt was skewed to one side at the bottom. She still had one hand fisted in the stranger's brown trench coat, but he seemed to be putting up a good effort in wriggling out of her grip without even looking like he was struggling. Storm had to keep grabbing another hold with her free hand and pulling him in the right direction.

"What have we here?" Hank asked, adjusting his glasses.

Storm released her charge abruptly and sent him skittering across the metal floor towards the other bed. Rogue smiled at him. He sent a cocky grin back as he smoothed himself out.

"He's here for his exam," Storm replied and left with her regal dignity intact—barely.

Rogue leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. "Don't like exams?"

He chuckled low in his throat, a nice rumbly sound. "Non. You?"

She shook her head.

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Remy would have to wait on his exam—the word left an ugly taste in his mouth—judging from the looks of the big, blue furry guy that appeared to be the doctor. He glanced around, looking for a way to escape, but half the trouble of basements is that there were very few exits.

He cursed mentally but caught himself again when he noticed the fille watching him with intent green eyes. Her sleeves had been rolled up and he could see where they'd drawn her blood.

She smiled shyly. "I'm Rogue."

"Remy," he replied without thinking.

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Hank's eyes lit up with an unholy glee, or at least that's how Rogue felt about it, and even Logan paid attention to the last stream of words he let loose.

That didn't mean he understood them though.

"Meaning?" he asked pointedly.

Hank frowned. "Ah, yes. You do not believe I am capable of extrapolating in my native language."

"Speak English," Logan said, crossing his arms.

Rogue chuckled again and glanced over at Remy, who was shuffling a deck of cards, looking a little panic stricken, his eyes darting back and forth as he desperately sought for a way out.

The Professor placed a hand on Rogue's shoulder and she looked up.

"I believe I'll leave you with Hank and Logan." He smiled. "He has an idea that could help."

"Uh-huh..." Rogue wasn't really sure she liked the sound of that.

"We just have to run a few more tests," Hank agreed.

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Tests.

Even Miss Munroe's threats of calling Remy's father had no effect on his desire to get out of there as fast as he could and never look back.

Rogue's look was full of distaste, but otherwise she seemed willing to submit herself to the inevitable.

He wasn't.

Nonchalantly, Remy straightened away from the medical bed and began to randomly, aimlessly wander the room, looking at everything. He'd almost safely made it to the door, when it suddenly flung open, knocking him clean off his feet, and a tiny teen stormed inside, yelling apologies as she came. Not to him.

"I'm like so sorry, Rogue! I totally didn't mean for you to end up in here again, and—"

The burly guy—Logan, wasn't it—groaned and tried to step between the giggling Rogue and the intruder. "Kitty," he growled.

She appeared not to notice. "It was totally an accident and I hope you're okay."

Remy picked himself up off the floor with some amount of exasperation. The girl didn't appear to notice anything.

"I'm fine, Kitty." Rogue cut the other girl over abruptly.

Kitty furrowed her eyebrows and bit down on a lower lip. "Uh...yeah, then why're you in here?"

"We're just trying to figure out why it's doing this," Rogue replied calmly.

"Actually, I have several theories," Hank interjected.

Logan looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. Remy felt like copying the motion but started sidling toward the door again.

The furry doctor didn't seem to notice either of them. "All the 'fritzes' as you like to call them, Rogue—"

"Fritz is a perfectly good word," Kitty huffed and glanced toward Remy as if for confirmation.

Remy pasted on a charming smile and leaned on the counter closer to the door as if he belonged there.

"—have only manifested after the suppression serum was injected into your bloodstream."

Kitty turned back to Hank and Remy slid slightly closer to his goal, stopping when Logan eyed him suspiciously.

"The serum has also ceased to function in that particular capacity and within a decay window decidedly shorter than the median length for a majority of mutants." Hank made as if to continue but was stopped by his main audience.

"In English," Rogue said flatly.

The door was flung open again and Remy barely managed to avoid being flattened a second time. He muttered obscure French curses as a second blue furry guy made an entrance.

"Liebchin! I heard that you were in here. Are you all right?"

Remy blinked at the intruder. His accent was thick and German. His frantically gesturing hands sported only three fingers each. A long tail swirled in the air behind him. Remy had seen some unique mutations, but so far, this one took the cake.

"I'm fine." Rogue sighed. "I'd just like an explanation of what you think my powers are doing, Hank."

Hank looked askance at the newcomer and at Kitty. He barely even glanced in Remy's direction. "Well..." he began again.

Remy was this close to the door when a man made of metal stepped through it, closed the door behind him, and stood in front of it with crossed arms.

"Katya," he said with another thick accent, this one Russian. "I hope you are not distressing Rogue."

Remy stared helplessly at the door.

This was just not his day.
 


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