This fic is one of those horrible plot-bunnies that won't let me write anything else until I get this down.  Complete writer's block has occurred on "The Darkest Hour," so I'm writing this in the hopes that once I've done a chapter or two I'll be able to finish the other fic.  I've spell-checked this and re-read it and, although it looks okay, I'm not sure what anyone else is going to think of it.  Flames are welcome, just please leave your e-mail so I can reply and discuss your problems.  Thanks.

Disclaimer:  Taineyah really wants to own the X-men, but Marvel won't sell them to her for 23 dollars and 17 cents, which is all the money she has.  She'd even settle for the Brotherhood or the Acolytes, but they're worth more money than she has, too.

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                It has been raining for two weeks and Rogue is getting sick of Kitty's incessant talking.  She tries to drown out the younger girl with her headphones, but Kitty just raises her voice, talking over the music.  The combined noise is too much for Rogue, who turns off her CD player and looks Kitty straight in the eye.

                "Kitty, in case ya hadn't noticed, Ah don't care if the football team's plannin' a party next week.  Ah won't be goin' anyway."

                "You don't have to be so mean about it.  I'm just, like, trying to make conversation.  It's not like there's anything else to do."  Kitty tosses her head.

                Rogue nods silently.  Kitty has a point.  There has been so much flooding in the Bayville area that the roads have washed out and even school has been cancelled.  The grounds of the mansion are a muddy swamp and the mansion's inhabitants have been subjected too many intense Danger Room sessions.  Even Ororo, the weather witch, hasn't been able to quell the storm's ferocity.

                Suddenly, something catches Rogue's attention.  Or, rather, the absence of something catches Rogue's attention.  The pitter-patter of rain on the roof that has been the staccato soundtrack to life for half a month has finally quit.

                Rogue stands up and grabs her raincoat off of the back of the door.  "Ah'm goin' outside."

                "Rogue, it's, like, muddy out there.  You'll get dirty and track mud into our room."  Kitty scrunches up her nose in disgust.

                "Ah won't if Ah stay on the driveway.  It's not like Ah'm goin' far.  Ah just hafta get outta here for a while before the rain starts again."  She strides out of the room haughtily, ignoring Kitty's further protests.

                Logan stops her in the front hall, just as she opens the main door.  He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and studies her face. "It's after 11, Stripes.  You aren't going anywhere."

                "Aw… Logan, just let me out for ten minutes.  Ah'm dying in here!"  At Logan's unchanging expression, she adds, "Ah swear Ah'll just go ta the front gates and back.  Ah hafta get outta here for a few minutes."

                Understanding how she feels and being a bit of a loner himself, Logan reluctantly agrees.  "Fine.  I'm holding you to that ten minutes."

                She grins.  "Ah'll be right back."

                She walks quietly to the gate, shuffling her feet through some puddles and enjoying the sound.  She is extremely disappointed when she reaches the gates and sighs as she turns around.  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she becomes aware of the sound of a low-flying jet.  She stares around incredulously and, as she watches, a formation of three fighters comes swooping in and drops missiles at the mansion.  The security system having been shorted out earlier that day when one of the sub-basements flooded, the mansion doesn't stand a chance.  An instant later, Rogue is thrown backwards by a shock-wave and knocked blissfully unconscious before she ever even realises the implications of the destruction.

                Hundreds of miles and a lifetime away, Emily Manning, the girl formerly known as Rogue, sat bolt upright, soaked in sweat, with tears running down her face and turned off her alarm clock.  As she wiped her eyes, she took note of the date.  April 5.  Ten years to the day since all of her friends...no, ten years to the day since her entire family had been killed by the government.  Looking at the FBI badge on her night stand, she grimaced.  Killed by the government she now worked for as a special investigator.

                The dream came almost every night, no matter what she did about it.  The worst part wasn't having to relive that night, it was having to relive it knowing all along how it would end.  Knowing that she'd be thrown backwards by that force blast, knocked unconscious.  Knowing that her best friend, Kitty, would die believing that Rogue was angry with her.  Knowing that when she woke up, safe in her own bed, she'd be bombarded by the memories. 

                Knowing that somewhere, one of her fellow X-men might still be alive.

                Kurt, the only potential survivor, had gone to Washington on a class trip with his civics class just before everything had gotten closed down because of the rain.  Thing was, he'd disappeared halfway through the trip, and she hadn't been able to find him.  It killed her not knowing what had happened to him.  Although logic suggested that he'd been killed by the government while in Washington, the idea that he might be out there, somewhere, had driven Rogue to become Emily Manning, FBI Agent.  It didn't matter that he was probably dead, she needed to know what had happened to him.

                Saying a silent prayer that Kurt was safe, wherever he was, Emily got showered, dressed and ready for work.  She clipped her badge to the front of her tailored pant-suit, refilled her kitten's feeding station and water bottle and walked out the front door.  Still dwelling on the past and missing her former team-mates, she got behind the wheel of her battered four-door and drove to work.

                She finally got to her building and placed the palm of her hand against the gel pad that registered her fingerprints and looked into the lens that would scan her retina, confirming her identification.  Due to a rash of security breaches over the course of the previous year, the biometric scanning system had been added earlier that month.  Every time her retina was scanned, she wondered how Scott would have dealt with the scan.  Would the scanner have recognised his eyes through his sunglasses or visor?  Or would it have picked up on tiny cracks in th ruby?

                An electronic female voice emitted from the speaker as the door slid open.  "Emily Manning.  Special Investigator on the Mutant Protection Squad.  X-gene positive."

                Emily smiled thinly, rejoicing in that victory.  Although it prevented her from getting a command position within the FBI, her X-gene couldn't prevent her from having a job there, as it had done when she was fresh out of school.  Normal humans had recognised mutants as "real people" the fall after she graduated.  Mutants now had their rights recognised and protected, although there were still regular protests and demonstrations over that.  It was a victory that she wished Professor Xavier had lived to see.  She could even understand why she was prevented from climbing the ranks.  Many of the mutant terrorist groups were still active.

                As she entered the building, a voice called her name.  "Emily!"  Agent Manning turned to see one of her team-mates on the Mutant Protection Squad, Harry Carroll.  "There's a new case on your desk.  Someone called in some information about a possible testing facility.  You're part of the pair heading out to investigate."

                Testing facility.  Emily's least favourite words to hear in her line of work, but ones she heard all too often.  People, often former government officials, ran mini-hells all over the country, dissecting and torturing mutants.  They were outlawed, but most people still feared and hated mutants enough to not call in if they knew where one was.  When one was called in, it was immediately investigated, as it had probably been being noticed for months before someone got up the courage to say anything.

                Emily nodded.  "Ah'll go read the file." 

                She quickened her pace to a near run, anxious to get on the road to find out if it was true.  She slammed open her office door and rushed inside.  Sure enough, there was a brown file marked "Urgent" on her desk.  She scanned the first page.  An anonymous caller had seen a group of unusual looking people, presumably mutants, being unloaded from a truck and shoved forcibly into an old warehouse near Green Bay, Wisconsin.

                She read the descriptions of the unusual people.  A couple of overly huge guys.  A young woman with purple skin.  A young man with bat-wings.  They were definitely mutants.  She looked at the plane ticket and investigation orders.  She was to go, along with Kathy Angel, to take a look at things.  If there was any suspicious activity, they were going to be issued a warrant immediately.  As usual, the local authorities refused to have anything to do with the complaint, not wanting to get mixed up in things where mutants were involved.

                Emily closed the file and put it in her briefcase just as Kathy walked in.  "Do you need to say good-bye to anyone?  We'll be gone a couple of days."

                "No.  Ah'm ready ta go."  Emily's smile was bitter.  She'd missed her chance to say good-bye to anyone who mattered ten years before and no one wanted to date The Untouchable.

                "Then let's get out of here." 

                One of the few non-mutants on the MPS, Kathy's tone was always rude and abrupt when working with her team-mates.  Both her parents and her grand-parents had been mutants, and it had been something of a shock and disappointment for her family when Kathy hadn't inherited her family's telekinesis.  Although it protected her from discrimination, Kathy was the only one in three generations who didn't have the power, and her mutant cousins had always made fun of her.  The result was that she was bitter towards most mutants, despite having devoted her life to protecting them.

                Emily picked up the suitcase that she kept packed in the corner of her office and followed Kathy out the door, only pausing for a moment to remember if her kitten had enough food to last her for the rest of the week.

***

                After enduring the silence of her partner and dropping her things off at a hotel, Agent Manning found herself standing with Agent Angel outside a tall, forbidding warehouse.  There were no windows and no signs that there was anyone within, aside from a few cars scattered in the parking lot.  Rusting metal beams stood in sharp contrast to the drab grey exterior.

                For an instant, Emily felt like Rogue again.  She half expected to hear Scott's voice telling the X-men to be careful and remember their plan because Magneto was in there and expecting them.  Tears sprang to her eyes.  That was impossible, as Scott and Magneto were dead, Magneto having died of a stroke three years ago.  It seemed strange that part of her even missed Magneto, one of her former team's enemies.

                Emily mentally shook her head.  She was here to do her job.  So what if the building called up old memories.  She had to go up to the front door and ask her questions.  If she found evidence that the anonymous caller was right, she'd have a warrant and a team in there within three hours.

                With a nod to Agent Angel, Emily strode confidently up to the front door and rang the doorbell.  An middle-aged man slid open a security window and peered at her angrily.

                "What do you want?"

                "Ah'm with the FBI, and Ah was wondering if Ah could talk ta the owner of this buildin'."

                The man grunted.  "You are.  I'm Mark Johnston."

                "We've heard some rumours that you may have some X-gene positive individuals here?"  Agent Angel said questioningly.

                "What?"

                "We heard that ya had mutants here," Emily sighed.

                "Then you've heard wrong.  I don't employ filthy mutants.  I hired a couple a few years back, and they were nothing but trouble.  Since then, I run a genetically pure establishment, thank you very much."

                Emily winced at the phrase "genetically pure," but said nothing.

                "You won't mind if we take a look inside, then?"  Kathy knew that, if he said they couldn't, they'd be able to consider that evidence enough that something was wrong.

                "You aren't coming in here."

                "Why not?" Emily asked.

                "I remember seeing you on the news a few years back--you were part of some mutie freak squad.  You haven't changed much and those streaks in your hair are hard to miss.  You're a mutant and, like I already said, this is a genetically pure establishment."

                Emily kicked herself for not dying her hair.  People still remembered her from when the X-men had been revealed as mutants in Bayville.  She knew that, and knew that it made her life that much harder.  Despite all that, she'd never changed her hairstyle in the slightest.  Sure, the first year or so after the mansion was destroyed, she was worried enough about her own safety to wear a bandana, but that was the only change she'd ever made.  The streaks were what had earned her the nickname Stripes from Logan and, aside from the clothes she'd been wearing that night, which she still had, the streaks in her hair were her last souvenir of her home.  Everything else had been destroyed, and she'd never been able to find a photograph of any of her friends. 

                Instead of cursing at the man, Emily smiled civilly and said, "Thank you."

                The two agents turned away and headed back to their car.  At the car, Kathy pulled out her cell phone and called headquarters to get a warrant in place.  They'd be going in within three hours.

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All I'm asking for is one review, positive or negative, it doesn't matter.  Heck, even if I don't get one review, it won't matter.  This is a head clearing excercise to try to be able to work on my other story.  Thanks for reading!  Buh Baiz!

Tainz