insulphurblue:

Kurt perked an eyebrow. A very very cautious eyebrow. Not that he hadn’t seen Rouge’s face do the same dance it just did before—well, not quite, but similar—but sometimes, he just didn’t understand it. Sometimes, it just confused him. Rouge was cold one second and hot the next and … well. He’d seen a lot of strange things in his life, but this was the one that still managed to take him by surprise, every time. 

“I know.” Kurt replied finally, after a long, terse moment. In his chest he felt a nervous skip, like someone was hitting the inside with small rocks. “And I would not have expected… ” no, no. That wasn’t right. Nor was mentioning anything about Alison, or her personal life. . none of it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I do not want to carry on, thinking the child would never know you, Ja? You are dear to me. I …am afraid, for what the future holds-and I would not have chosen this time to bring another mutant into this world. With as much joy as it brings me. . I also worry. Every night I worry. Sometimes so much I think I will be sick.” 

He made an imploring gesture. “I…cannot do this without you.”

Well, no Goddamn wonder. Well, she has no proof, nothing concrete, but now it all makes perfect freaking sense to Rogue. Kurt going against all of his ways, the secret keeping, the sex, breaking his promise to her… None of it’s Kurt. Same to Ali, who physically can’t get pregnant. It’s not either of them. So who is it? Mutants are incredible but rarely miraculous. As far as mind control goes, that’s incredibly obvious, unless you’re name is Charles Xavier. Never mind he’s not around, he would never do something like this. And changing Ali’s body? The closest any mutant can get is maybe Lifeguard, but Rogue hasn’t seen her in months, and bets Ali hasn’t seen her in longer.

Which means the source is outside the mansion grounds. She needs to make a call. But, first…

“…Ah’m sorry, Kurt.” And she means that. “Mah world just seems to keep changin’, without any input from meh, an’ never in the ways Ah want.” She touches his arm lightly. “But it is wonderful y’all are havin’ a baby—even though you had sex out of wedlock, Father Wagner.” Her tone is drilling, but her smile is kinder. “But can you just. Give meh a minute? Your changin’ mah retirement plans on meh.” And she’ll need him not nosing around while she figures out who did this to him.

insulphurblue:

The hollow ring in her voice didn’t escape him. Kurt’s tail flickered for a moment, a thousand things to say swimming through his mind. ‘Thank you’ sounded dismissive. Fighting? Never. It wouldn’t solve a thing. ‘I’m sorry’, a lie, and disingenuous. This was exactly what he’d feared… what Kurt had always feared over anything else. 

Being cornered, with no escape. 

He closed his eyes. He was running, fast and hard through the woods, with angry bellows of ‘catch that demon-child!’ echoing behind him. 

Then the images flicker, and he’s running again, it’s night, and there are men with torches, some with guns. They’re yelling they will kill him. Kurt is out of breath and he’s afraid to teleport very far. He is new to the town and he doesn’t know where he’s going. Stefan is dead. Now he has no one. 

Another flicker. ” I take you and your whore of a mother in and this is how you repay me?!” ka-crack! There’s a snap across Kurt’s back, and he knows by now that grinding his teeth when the whip strikes only hurts more than the lashing itself. So he endures it. He sits, silent with face soaking, until his body moves instinctivly and the next day he is thrust in front of a crowd. 

No way out. Nowhere to run. 

Trapped again, this time, by his own concience. 

Kurts eyes fluttered, clearing the memories away, and he shook his head without thinking. And what else was there for him to say? It was an accident? Maybe, but the best accident of his life. That was what he had. A chance. Just maybe, for his looks and his gifts—all of it, there was something normal within his grasp, a slice of heaven he never had thought would ever be his, practically handed to him. 

But she wasn’t happy. Anyone could see that. 

Especially Kurt. 

He straitened then, and made for the door, but there was no glide to his footsteps, none of his usual grace as he walked. He paused for a moment to look back at her, but she had still not looked up. He sighed, and leaned in the frame for a minute. 

“I can not apologize fur dies, Meine Schwester.” he said, after a long moment. “To be sorry, or ashamed of this.  . .it is not in my heart.”

Rogue shakes her head before he’s even done talking. “Who’s askin’ you to apologize.” She feels very stiff, and her wrist cracks when she moves. There isn’t really anything she can say. Who isn’t happy when someone’s having a baby. Is Rogue so bitter and jealous she can’t find it in her heart to excited her brother is bringing life into the world.

The answer isn’t readily available, and that speaks for itself.

Instead, she sifts around her mind for Kitty and Jubilation, Tabitha, Patsy, all the joyful, giddy girls that lose their minds over babies and pushes them forward. It’s a slow start, but the bright feelings start to roll a blanket over her own, and she pushes herself out of her chair. “Kurt, Ah’m just. Set in mah ways. It is wonderful news.”

It’s gonna take her a second to work up a hug, so she stalls. “Still hard to swa—believe. It’s almost like—” And then it hits Rogue. Like a slap so hard it takes a moment to process the hurt. “Mag..ic.”

insulphurblue:

Kurt dropped his hand… and didn’t seem to notice the room suddenly seemed to grow a bit darker. Instead, he stood for several long, terse moments, with the gaping voice of silence hovering between them. His sister, too, looks like she might be sick. It’s subtle, but not unnoticable. It’s the way her lips are pursed and her eyes are focused on a fixed point. It only takes another second for Kurt to realize he’d just crossed a line, and it was too late to fix that. Maybe it was too late to fix any of it. 

Kurt felt weak in the knees again. Why does this frighten him so much? The news made him feel only joy but standing here in front of her, he felt only withered, with no strength and no resolve. Almost like she had touched him. Maybe in just a different way this time. 

Kurt’s tail went completetly still as he spoke. The words came out as terse, and hard. Almost as shards of glass, so sharp and forced… “I wanted you to know Fraulein Blaire will not be going on any field missions.” He pressed his lower back into the table and felt his fingers tighten as they braced against it’s edge. The next words were spoken with an accent thickening as it went. “She is going to be a mother.” 

Kurt turned his luminous eyes back on Rogue, but with shadows seeming to stretch to fill the planes of his face, and so they stand out like lightbulbs in a dark room. It was as much as he could say, as much effort as he could pour into it. There were details that words would fail to express, and things he wouldn’t tell besides. Not about Alison, or the first child she’d carried, nor of the pain she’d felt at it’s loss. Thought he wished he could, but now there was an instinct to protect his future wife-and the child, however it had come to be. And that meant from anyone. Even someone he loved. 

“What is this? My lovely sister all alone over here?”

“Oh nothin’, Kurt, Ah just—”

“Do not nothing me. What is it?”

“—Scott is just trippin’ over his babies. Alternate universes, clones, legitimate. Ah can’t even have one.”

“Ah, I thought as much would be the case.”

“Ah am transparent.”

“Like paint. I am just familiar enough with the colour. As much as you hate your choses taken from you, my sister, God has a plan for all of us. Some doors are closed with a reason. Perhaps you will never have children, yes. I will not be an uncle, just as you will not be an aunt.”

“We’ll be crazy old cat people.”

“I am insulted! Why would you need a cat, when you will have me?”

“Oh, how awful of meh!”

“Herr Gambit will be sleeping outside.”

“Kurt!”

“These are my conditions!”

The memory fades back, their laughter echoing. There’s a terrible, burning build up behind her eyes, the prickly sensation of tears still unfamiliar. Her stomach seizes and them drops, like a heavy stone sitting in her torso. Rogue has this thing. About having to be the most important. It’s why she throws things when Remy talks to blondes, it’s why she lets Logan kiss her in kitchens. She’s so terrible at sharing, terrible at understanding there’s room for more than her. Rogue went from not mattering to anyone, to being the center of several people’s worlds. Over the years, things have changed, people have moved on. That’s totally normal, that’s totally fine.

But to Rogue, it feels like a downgrade. Worse than that, it feels like rejection. You’re not good enough anymore, she can still hear Carol. They all found something better. Her and Kurt aren’t family, not really. But it hadn’t mattered, because they found each other. Settlin’, that’s all he was doin’. He was settlin’ an’ now he’s got the real deal, an’ he don’t need meh anymore.

Why hear Carol’s voice, when she can do it so well on her own?

Not that Rogue’s much aware of it, but she’s paled out, probably green around the edges. Well, you know what? Here it comes. You know what? Because there’s never such thing as a good surprise, because her knee-jerk reaction to everything is anger. “Congratulations, Kurt.” Her stare is on the dead side of the scale, her emotions shutting down to keep the hurt out. Because hurts so much. Her defense mechanisms are whirring in high gear, and she’s just looking at the table top. “Congratulations.”

insulphurblue:

Kurt couldn’t help but flinch; just a twitch of his eyebrows and a quick catch of his teeth. Amends. Now he really did feel sick. 

Not sick because he had to tell her. Sick because she was his family… but there was another part to that family now-and Rogue… Rogue and he and always had that in common. In a crowded room they could be alone-especially his sister, for all the banshees that wailed in her mind. And his own demons—only prayer and deticated meditation kept them at bay. The Xmen were his family. Maybe the only true family he’d ever known. Margali? That was an entirly different story. His time in the circus carnival? Far from memorable. All of his neruosis and fears all rising to the surface in one moment when he realized that something very different had maybe just changed things between them forever. 

And she had never been one to handle it well. Never. 

Kurt shook his head, but finally rose his gaze to meet hers, feeling the heavy weight of her gloved hand over his three fingers. Kurt had never been afraid of Rogues touch. Not reckless, not foolish, perhaps, as he’d come to know Remy…but not afraid. The pull had almost become familiar to him, over a time.  ”Nein, Meine Schwester, Ich kann nicht bilden worten muss ich Ihnen zeigen.” His voice was only a fraction above a whisper, but then he caught himself and only just managed his English. ” I would show you this… bitteschon.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Oh hell. Oh hell. Kurt’s never hidden a thing from her. Not a damn thing. Well, up until Dazzler anyway. Then it’s been secrets galore. She pulls her gloved hand back from him, stuffing both her arms beneath the table. One of the things she’s truly treasured about her relationship with Kurt was her entire lack of need to use the side-effect of her power. Kurt’s heart and mind have always been an open book to her, and she’s never had the need to chase a thought down.

Right now, he has something he wants her to know but can’t say. He flashbacks of Remy begging her to drag the truth out of his memories, just so he wouldn’t have to say it is powerful, and she has to swallow back the bile that rises with it. Those had been dark conversation. She did it at the trial. And she swore: never again.

“You have something to say, Kurt,” and her voice was only a little bit louder than his, but after clearing her throat, she finds it. “Then Ah suppose you best do.”

insulphurblue:

Kurt let his head dip between his shoulders, hands braced on the table for support. Maybe was much for physical as to bolster the flurry of emotions. He made an attempt at using the extra few seconds to try to gather his thoughts. This was not something he wanted to botch. At all. 

As if would be that easy. Kurt was greatful that Alison wasn’t in the room, at that moment. The kind-hearted woman would have probably lain a hand on his shoulder. Told him it would be alright, he could do this. She was there for him. But with Rogue, it was different. With Rogue, the more nonsense you managed to conjure up, the harder the blow would fall. In every way, it was his sister, how profoundly she affected people around her…and  a testament to how much she meant to him, maybe, that of everyone, he was the most concerned about her reaction. But she was his family more than his blood, even, and that was all that mattered. It mattered because he wanted her to be a part of it. Once a long time before they had shared a sentiment about children. Kurt had never expected it to happen. Especially not like this. But she had to know. Had to know all the reasons, had to know how careful they had been, had to know it wasn’t planned, but still wanted. 

Kurt sighed. No. Words weren’t going to do. 

So instead, he offered her his hand. 

Rogue’s brow furrows at his silent action, and she looks at him quizzically before staring down at his hand. Kurt’s a peaceful man. He likes to talk about emotions and hug it out. He’s no namby-pamby, but he’s far from an advocate of violence. Rogue on the other hand carries bad habits. Of either punching her woes in the face as literally as she can, or cutting out the source of the drama all together. She’s not entirely sure what to do with the adamant disagreement between her and her brother; the only thing she and Kurt have ever truly disagreed upon is where Mystique ranks on the Redeemable scale.

With a sideways glance of suspicion, Rogue extends her hand. She would certainly hate to cut him out of her life. She hates even more that it’s possible for her to do so. She firmly shakes his hand. “Makin’ amends?”

Rogue was stretching back in her chair, her arms reaching out above her head as the meeting concluded. Finding out where the Sentinal factories shipped their unused product to is gonna be a pain the rear but not impossible. Getting a hold of Emma will be the longer task. Woman is forever too busy to answer a call, and is more likely to text you back—assuming she responds at all. With a long sigh, she prepares to stand, only to realize Daz got JP out in a hurry, and Kurt hasn’t made a move to go anywhere.

Uh-oh.

“Should Ah bother sayin’ goodbye?” she asks, eyebrows raised in an unimpressed fashion. “Or are we still pretendin’ Ah don’t exist? ‘Cause Ah’ve tried, shugah, an’ that is a hard game to win.”

razzle-dazzle-them:

Alison frowned, staring at the map. “If memory serves, the last manufacturing plant was off in one of the industrial parks. The first one was out in the open, the last was more hidden when Shaw and Stryker put their hands in that business.  And, there was the site in Ecuador… ” She looked up around the table again. “Agent Coulson says SHIELD’s been keeping close tabs on the Hellfire Club and they’ve been pretty quiet. I doubt he’d have the funds to do this on his own without the Club’s investors.”

She sat back, gesturing to a few places on the map. “We could each take a couple of locations and scout around? If Winston Frost’s decided to play ‘avenging hero’ against his daughter and the rest of mutant kind, he wouldn’t be able to hide it easily. He’d need a lot of land, and a lot of security.”

“Stateside,” Rogue agrees with Dazzler, but adds, “Sentinals were a world wide pain in the butt, though.” As Daz goes on, Rogue raises an eyebrow at Kurt’s insistence to look at everything but her. For contributing such a good idea—and what looks like their only lead—he’s pretty convinced she’s the most uninteresting thing in the room. Man, is he wearing thin for her these days. Siblings, though, right? They’re supposed to grate on your last nerve, aren’t they?

“Ah’ll check with Emma.” The snobby telepath and Rogue aren’t particularly close, but Rogue’s at least one of the people Emma will actually call back. “Her daddy’s pretty good about sendin’ her nasty letters when he’s stirrin’ up trouble.” Something they have in common; Mystique never fails to drop a line just to ruin Rogue’s day.

“Factories outside the US took longer to shut down. Puternicstan was the last country to have an operatin’ base.” Rogue cracks her knuckles unconsciously, looking back up at the screen. “Anyway we can see who bought all their used product?”

razzle-dazzle-them:

Reaching her hand out, Alison squinted a moment, making a hard hologram to settle on the map of New York, marking precisely where the Sentinel had landed, where the riots had occurred and spread, and the site of Stark building explosion.

“Supposedly, the government funding for the Sentinel program has been cut and remains cut off to this day. But, that doesn’t mean private funding hasn’t been provided. Whoever is pulling strings is likely either the same person who’s brought back the Sentinels, or is funding it with another party. F.O.H. and Humans First doesn’t have that type of cash backing, to our knowledge anyway.” She moved her finger again, carefully, highlighting the headquarters of those two organizations.

“So who has the cash backing of Tony Stark and an interest in wiping mutants off the face of the earth?”

Rogue watches the displays twists and flicker. Lots of bad news stacking up, and the Professor unable to get signal, cellular or telepathic. This is all very much bigger in the decision making process than they’re used to. She wishes Scott was around. They’re both very stubborn, and usually in opposite directions, but Lord Almighty can he make decisions.

“When,” she starts slowly, sliding her finger tips back and forth across the shiny top of the table. “was the last time anybody talked to Emma?” It’s a long shot, Emma’s been gone for a long while. “Her daddy’s a bad, rich man, and he keeps very rich, bad friends.” At her mention, Emma’s digital visage appears and then shrinks, shifting to the upper left, the space filled by Winston Frost. Carlton Kilgore, Carlos Pacheco, Jason Aaron and a handful other dangerously rich, arms dealing, influential men’s photos appear downscaled next to his.

“Kilgore’s the one with the most anti-mutant activity, last Ah heard.”

foxed-at-the-edges:

“Then no would be our answer.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Even so, I think I should look into the Coroner and his whereabouts. If you get any more communications, however, from Fury or otherwise, please, call me.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card stamped with the SHIELD logo and his personal numbers. His cell, as well as his office extension, were on the back. He placed the little black card on the desk, in front of her.

He lifted the files. “Is it all right if I take these with me?”

“We see him the most near Seattle.” Which is mostly. It’s where he was any time Remy had dealings with him. Maybe he was fond of the wet days and dark skies. More likely, it’s a busy port area with all the access to medical cargo and illegal immigrants to test them out on. 

When he holds up the files, she bites down on her Paris Garnet 054 lipstick covered lips. The second note. She’d gotten another one almost two weeks, it read ‘What are secrets between friends?’ Same handwriting, too. What are secrets between friends. What are secrets… Who are friends, who do Ah trust?

“…Ya’ll can take ‘em, but. Answer meh this first.” Rogue reclines back in her chair, one hand reaching behind her neck to gather her hair and bring it all around one shoulder. “Why are you so sure Fury ain’t the one that opened them files?”

razzle-dazzle-them:

insulphurblue:

itsallnorthstar:

Another five laps around the mansion grounds, before Jean-Paul skidded to a stop in front of the doors, taking a second to adjust his shirt before stepping inside at a normal pace. His expression was unusually serious as he went to the elevator that took him tot he sub basement—the high tech base of operations for the X-Men, and whoever else happened to drop in at the time.

Kurt’s first stop after Alison had arrived home, and everything was through, was down to put on his uniform. There was no mission, but this was important, and official. Since he’d been back, there’d been no such meetings, and when there were, Kurt felt it vital to not only act like an Xman, or at least, make an attempt, but to look like one too. 

As he walked, one of Kurt’s fingers slid under the black collar of his uniform, with only a flash of white at it’s collar, adjusting it anxiously. He’d only donned it twice since he’d come back from seminary, only to find the surprise rehash of his old attire waiting for him, with nearly as much fanfare display as his two framed degrees, which he’d tucked away in a drawer in the new room. Now he let the doors to the meeting room slide open, gliding in with all the grace of a dancer with his tail idly swinging behind him. 

“Guten Abend, Northstar.” he greeted with a smile, seeing the man had already beat him there. “Ah—we are waiting for the others, Ja? I am sure they will be here momentarily  . .”

Uniform donned, Ali looked down at the grey boots that had replaced the skates long ago, but her mind was on other things. Sentinels. Riots. Whispers from the media about the consequences of that, and of course, the niggling thoughts of Joseph and what was happening now. Everything seemed to take a backseat to this new looming problem— but could any of them really be surprised that the situation had started to snowball like this?

Inside the meeting room, Alison gave the two other men a tremulous smile. “Hey,” she said, taking a seat. “This may be the only room in the house that doesn’t have the news turned on,” she remarked with forced lightness.

Rogue is sitting in the locker room holding her gloves. For convenience, she can pull off the hands and leave the long arm pieces to keep her skin from being over exposed. They’re meeting in the war room, to discuss… everything. Well. Not everything. She still isn’t willing to bring the SHIELD files forward. Instead, the agenda contains the riots, Sentinel and what that has brought down on mutants.

There is a bad air in the mansion, a thick miasma. Rogue had thought it was just her suspicions about Joseph’s return, the horrible pictures poisoning her. Rogue’s always had a skewed view of the world—looking at it from three hundred different angles will do that—but she finds very little comfort in finding her paranoias are dead on. With a sigh, she stands.

Turning the corner into the hall, she straightens the sleeves, wondering if she’ll even have anything to contribute. She takes one more breath before entering. Rogue gives smile that keeps the tired away, and drops into a seat a chair away from the front. “Howdy,” she answers, pleased that she gets it out with more cheer than she feels. Tugging on her final glove, “Pardon a lady for bein’ fashionable late.”