Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.
A/N: This is the second story in the series that starts with "Nine to Five." I recommend that you read that story first in order to fully understand the relationships between the characters. Plus it's funny.
This story takes place after "X-treme Measures" and "The Toad, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," but before "Self Possessed." This chapter is kinds just a prologue summing up what happened in "Nine to Five" and since then.
A special thanks to Skysong, who is editting this stuff so I can get it to you faster.
NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter One: Forty-Five Days
Six
weeks. A month an' a half. How can so much happen in only
forty-five days? Ah get a job, meh an' the owner get the crap
beat out o' us, practically everyone in Bayville gathered around the
store ta tell meh that they think Ah should have been killed at
birth, and to finish it off, mah friend's boss decided ta burn the
place ta the ground. Ah meet someone who can really
relate ta meh, only ta find out that he was lyin' ta meh. Maybe
the whole time. An' Ah had ta admit that Jean may have been
right. It almost killed meh. One o' my teammate's drinks
some bad juice an' runs away ta live in the sewers, leavin' his best
friend here ta act uncharacteristically depressed, not ta mention his
equally hurt aunt who Ah think keeps lyin' ta his mom. Not that
Ah wouldn' do the same. What would Ah say, "Hey sis,
remember how Ah convinced ya ta send your only son here under mah
care ta learn how ta control his mutant powers? Well, his
powers went all wonky, and now he prefers ta live in the rat infested
sewers with a couple of other cynical and maniacally depressed
socially outcast mutants. Oh, but Ah made sure he took his sweater. .
." Another one o' mah friends falls off the face o' the
planet fo' a week, then comes back actin' all funny. Not funny,
but not herself. She was always apathetic, but Ah'm not sure
that she cares 'bout anything anymore. An' she never mentions
her hot an' heavy boyfriend anymore, so Ah have ta assume they hadda
fallin' out, which might account fo' the apathy. Ah don' wanna
brin' it up because Ah'm afraid she'll go back ta her old self an'
pop off mah head fo' sayin' anythin'. An' ah like mah head
where it is. Plus she'd only assume that Ah was scraping for
news 'bout Remy. Not that Ah couldn' get it myself if Ah
wanted. Everyday fo' the last two weeks it's somethin' new: a
letter, a singing telegram, a postcard, a phone call, some poor kid
he paid to dress up as a "messenger pigeon", a pajamagram.
. . .that was interesting. Ah was frightened to open it,
figuring it would be some trashy lacy teddy, but Ah was pleasantly
surprised. It was called a "zen gown." It had an
Asian feel to it, with the collar and the black and green bamboo
pattern stretching down past mah knees. As much as Ah hate him
right now, Ah have ta admit that the boy has good taste. At
least when he wants to.
Rogue brushed the dirt and bark from her jeans and pulled a leaf out of her messy hair. She began the trek back up to the mansion, trying not to slip on the wet leaves as she went. There was a bright flash off to the west, followed in twenty seconds by a deafening crack of thunder. Guess Ah spoke too soon 'bout the weather. She turned up the collar of her jacket as the wind picked up. By the time the first few drops fell, she was safely in the foyer of the mansion.
"Petey," Remy LeBeau called as he walked down the hall of their new warehouse base toward John's, Piotr's, and his own living quarters. Magneto had decided it was best to separate Sabertooth and Mastermind from the younger ones for the sake of his sanity and his furniture. The elder mutants resided on a totally separate floor on the other side of the warehouse. They even had separate common rooms now. They still had to share the kitchen and the weight/workout room, but carefully planned time schedules kept the volatile ones from bumping into each other.
"Petey?" Remy was outside the other Acolyte's bedroom. He pushed open door to find the mutant listening to classical music and sketching. "Petey, have you seen John lately?"
The Ruski shook his head, "Not for a time now. I saw him last watching the arrow cartoon and writing notes." Then he thought for a moment. "After the storm started, I did hear him squeal."
Remy hung his head and sighed. "I was afraid o' d'at." He started to close the other boy's door, then thought of one last comment. "If I don' come back in a half hour, call 911 an' direct d'em to the roof."
He trudged back down the hallway. He headed toward the elevator but instead pushed open the stairwell door. In the tall, empty stairwell, the sound of the rain pouring down echoed. There was a clap of thunder, and to Remy it sounded like he had just found himself standing in front of the speakers at a Black Sabbath concert. At last, he reached the heavy steel door that lead to the roof.
Upon opening, Remy found what he was looking for: St. John Allerdyce, soaked to the bone and waving his arms and body around, as if he was attempting to dance to a slow electronica song at a night club.
"It's time to come in, John-boy." Remy felt like the boy's mother.
"But- but- I think I got it this time!" the Aussie yelled excitedly and hopped around. "Watch!" John waved his arms around some more, squatted and breathed. Then he raised one of his hands with two fingers pointed up to the dark sky expectantly. Remy did have to admit that he was at least becoming more graceful with all of his practice.
"Oui, dat looks great, John," the Cajun praised. "If you keep practicin', I'm sure you'll get it in another week or two."
John pretended not to hear him and maintained his position. He thought about some memorable lines from his "arrow cartoon":"Never stop fighting; never give up." Then something amazing happened. Lightning struck an old antennae just behind where John was standing. Both boys could feel the excess electricity as every hair on their bodies stood up.
Once John recovered, he started jumping up and down. "That's it! I just need a little conductor to hone in on my powers!" The wet and crazy orange-haired mutant dashed over to the antennae and tried to pull it up from the base.
Remy sprinted over to the Aussie, once he recovered from the shock of the lightning. "No, John! Put it down!" he yelled over the downpour. Remy ripped the metal pole of death from his hands and struggled to secure it back on the roof.
"But I need to work on my firebending powers!" John insisted. "If that evil little runt Azula can do it, then I can too!"
Remy decided to stop playing along and tell it to him straight. "Dat's just a cartoon! You are not Prince Zuko an' your mutant powers do not include controlling lightning!" (1)
"But Azula and Uncle Iroh can do it," John replied in a whiny voice. He knew Remy was right, but he felt he had to try.
"A CARTOON, JOHN!" Remy was frustrated. "You know what d'at means, right!" Remy wasn't exactly sure anymore. Since Wanda's memory wipe, John stopped being insolent to Magneto (at least to his face), just like Remy asked. Actually he stopped saying much of anything to the Master of Magnetism. He would just look at him blankly and nod.
John was showing other signs of instability. He was becoming colder, harsher, not to Remy, but to other people, even a little to Peter. His once funny and obscure comments grew dark and snappish. It was almost as if he didn't care about whose feelings he hurt.
Remy considered finding a psychiatrist he could trust to take John to. Get him on some medication for bipolar or manic depression. But he knew that he could never get John to a shrink, much less get him to take his meds. So he just tried to be there for him - watching his back, being the friend he couldn't be back when John wanted to rescue Wanda.
"Yes." John's wet mop of a head fell down and looked at his waterlogged socks. He could still tell the difference between reality and fantasy. No matter how much he wished he was in a cartoon, he knew he wasn't. In cartoons, everything always turned out all right in the end. The boy would get the girl or vice versa, and they'd live together happily ever after. In cartoons, there were no crazy fathers that brainwashed their own daughters.
"Good." Remy walked over to him and put his arm around the disheartened boy. He lead him off toward the stairwell. "Now let's get inside an' dry off. I'll even charge up some towels so d'ey're nice an' warm."
"Remy." John looked up into his friend's eyes. "Does this pain inside every go away? I mean, besides when we piss the night away." (2)
"I don' know," Remy replied and shut the door to the roof.
"So, got anything out of Jason yet?"
"Sabertooth has new sheets," Remy replied.
"Guess not," John shrugged off the seemingly unrelated answer. "Heard anything from your shelia?"
"Nope."
The Aussie shook his head. "I still say you shoulda sent her the skimpy, see-through nightie," John referred to the pajamagram.
"Oui, so she'd call me up to yell at me," came Remy's sarcastic reply.
"At least she'd be callin'," the other boy pointed out. They'd reached their floor.
"Shut up." Remy hated it when John made sense. Especially in his current condition. Remy opened the door for John, then pushed him through.
From his room, Piotr heard the heavy stairwell door slam and knew Remy had convinced John to come down. Good, now I do not have to call the ambulance.
"I am sorry, Kitty. Could you say that again? Remy and John came downstairs. They made a big noise," Piotr spoke into his new cell phone. Remy had gotten them all one. When the phone bill from the old headquarters came in, the boys had trouble explaining all the calls to Xavior's Institute. They almost had Magneto buying the lie that Sabertooth was crank-calling Wolverine, until Magneto got a good look at the length of the calls. A three-hour crank call was a little too big for Magneto to swallow. Remy took the heat for the calls, even though Piotr had made the majority of the long ones. "Mags already knows 'bout me and Rogue. D'ere's no sense in gettin' you in trouble too," Remy had told him, after "confessing" to Magneto.
"That's okay. I know what it's like to live in house full of loud people, believe me," the girl gabbed from the other end of the line. "I was just saying that I, like, finally got the grade back on my art project you helped me with. You know, back before..." she hesitated, trying to find the best words to describe the night, "...the fire and everything. I hate how it takes teachers forever to get stuff back to you. Considering that nobody's gotten their test back we took over a month ago, I guess that getting my project graded in a few weeks is pretty good. What was school like back in Russia?"
He told her. It was hard for him, though. Remembering his life in Russia had made him think of his family: his grandparents, his mother, his father, his brother, his sister. All he could do was reassure himself that what was left of his family was safe and happy. But he missed them.
Kitty Pryde was a very good confident. They hadn't met in person since the Saturday night Magneto came back, but they talked on the phone nearly every evening. Kitty told him about America, customs, her parents, and Chicago, while Piotr listened and shared Russia with her. She was a very curious person. Like a sponge, she absorbed all of the information and stories he shared with her, and she could recite them back to him if he asked. That was a nice thing to have. A close friend. That was still all they were.
Remy and John were his friends too, but they didn't seem to care much about his past. They knew the basics and knew more than Kitty about a few things, but they never actually asked him about it. They never asked him to explain things. They would joke with him, tease him, but they never really got serious. They never got to the heart of any matter with him. If they ever came close to it at night, when they would drink the booze Remy seemed to pull out of thin air, John would make some lighthearted joke, or Remy would change the subject. But he knew they were his friends, and that they would defend him and protect him, just as he would do for them. Until it came to standing up against Magneto, anyway.
Guilt still haunted Piotr about that day. He knew it was wrong; he knew he should have followed John in the charge to save Wanda, but he hadn't. He kept telling himself he was keeping Illyana safe and that would comfort him for a time. But the guilt always came back.
Piotr told Kitty more about his school life. ". . . And new books were always very exciting. The village I went to school in did not have money, and many of our books were old. A few were from the Soviet days. I remember opening a new...a new...what do you call the science of falling and throwing things?"
"Physics?" she guessed.
"I remember opening a new phys-ic-s book." Piotr said the word slowly to get the pronunciation right. "It smelled very nice. It had crisp pages and bright drawings."
"Wow. I never realized how much I take for granted until I started talking with you, Peter," Kitty commented. "It gives me a whole new appreciation for everything."
"PPPPEEEETTTTEEEEEYYYYYY!" Piotr heard John's voice charge down the hallway. The Russian ignored him and continued his conversation with Kitty.
That didn't satisfy John, and he ran to his door and threw it open. "Petey! Didn't you hear me? We have a new theme tonight: Island getaway. Your drink must have a tropical island name to it. Like sea breeze, Malibu rum on the rocks, or sex on the beach. Damn, I want some sex on the beach."
Piotr put his hand over the phone. "I am on the telephone, John. I will come out when I am finished."
"But we want to get drunk now," he whined. "Is it Kitty again? Did I come in during the phone sex again? Was she just undoing your belt?"
"John, shut the door," Piotr growled. "I will join you later."
The Aussie began to do as Piotr asked. Just before the door was fully shut, John stuck his head in and yelled, "Don't forget to lick him behind his ears, Kitten! He likes that a lot!" He slammed the door before Piotr had the chance to throw something at him.
Piotr could still hear John's voice through the walls as he headed to the kitchen and Remy with the liquor. "Remy! Petey is busy with his sex kitten. I think I need a durry (3) after overhearing those two. Wanna join me for a smoke?"
Piotr removed his hand from the end of the phone, knowing that his hand didn't keep out John's booming voice. "I am sorry about John. He has not been himself."
"What is wrong with him again? And since when do he and Remy smoke?"
Piotr sighed. He couldn't tell her the whole story. "Since John and Wanda broke up. He has taken it rather hard. Remy smoked before he joined Magneto, and John has gotten him back into the habit."
"But the breakup was weeks ago, wasn't it? There has to be more than that."
"It is not my business to tell any more," Piotr hoped to kill the subject. He did not want to feel guilty tonight.
Kitty forced a laugh. "Well, if there is one thing you aren't, Piotr Rasputin, it's a gossip."
There was silence on the line; Kitty wanted to pressure him to tell her more but knew it was fruitless to do so.
"You should probably meet up with John before he comes back and makes more lewd comments at our expense."
"Okay." Piotr, although he loved his conversations with the X-woman, was thankful of the permission to end the awkwardness. "Again, I am sorry for his lood comments."
"Lewd, and that's okay," Kitty said. "I'm not upset with you. Now go before he drowns himself in sea breezes. You don't want to be holding his head above the toilet for the third night in a row."
"Yes, that is true. Good bye, Kitty. I will call you tomorrow."
"I won't be home tomorrow. Jean has a rec league soccer game I promised I'd go to. I hate that she can't play on the school's team anymore. But at least the city leagues don't care. Yet, anyway. So, I'll talk to you later! Bye!"
"Good-bye," Piotr said again and disconnected the call.
The lone girl in a household of boys sat in a chair near her bedroom window. She looked out and watched the rain fall on the leaves of the trees in the backyard. She remembered that there was a time that the rain made her feel fearful, alone, and abandoned. She wasn't quite sure why. It was a fleeting memory, emotion.
Wanda Maximoff looked over to the antique mirror above her dresser. Just as fleeting as what those photos were of that I had shoved into the frame of my mirror. She got to her feet and walked over to the said piece of furniture. As she had many times before, she studied the dustless places along the mirror's frame. She traced her finger along the edges. I know they were pictures, but where did they go? What were they of? Wanda racked her brain hard enough that she started to bring on a headache. It's no use. I'll never figure it out.
She sighed and headed to the bathroom for some aspirin. She carefully stepped over the old pickle barrel placed in the hallway to catch one of the worse leaks in the house. "Freddy, the bucket is getting full," Wanda called down the stairs.
In the bathroom two large bowls took up the counter, serving the same purpose as the pickle barrel. She looked at her reflection in the mirror: Her black roots were showing on the bottom, her hair hadn't been brushed that day, and, without her make-up on, the dark circles under her eyes made her look several years older than she was.
Growing sick of her reflection, she yanked open the medicine cabinet and fiddled with the various pill bottles until she found the one she was looking for. Ahhh, aspirin. She pulled out the bottle and closed the cabinet door. Instead of struggling to open the childproof cap, she hexed the bottle. Holding out her hand, she felt only one tablet fall into her open hand. NO! she thought and laid the last tablet on the bathroom counter before searching the bottle with her fingers for one or two more of the pain relievers.
Freddy stomped up the stairs with an empty bucket. He took the full pickle barrel and tried to squeeze past Wanda to dump the water down the bath tub. Being the small guy that he is, he accidentally shoved the witch, knocking her waist into the counter and spilling the filling bowls. Wanda glared at her housemate and hurled the empty aspirin bottle at him. It hit the back of his neck, but Fred couldn't tell. It just bounced off to the ground and rolled behind the toilet.
Wanda sighed and felt for the last fraction of her salvation. There was nothing there, just icy rain water. "No," she whispered. The witch pulled up the stop plug on the sink, hoping to see her pill lying just beyond, maybe within her reach. But she wasn't so fortunate. The pill was gone, spilt off the counter and down the drain by the overflowing rain water.
Her knees gave way, and she gripped the counter with her hands. Her head was at the same level as the tile countertop, so she softly banged it against her forehead. That did not help her growing headache much. She stifled a melodramatic sigh and turned her head, seeing Freddy next to the bathtub. I forgot he was in here. If that fatass hadn't bumped me, I'd at least have some relief in this godforsaken house! She hexed the unsuspecting Blob into the bathtub where the shower curtain wrapped itself around him in a George the Abominable Snowman love hug, and freezing water spewed from the faucets.
She thought that making Freddy suffer would make her feel better, but it didn't. It used to, she vaguely recalled. Wanda turned and left the bathroom unceremoniously. Behind her, the shower stopped trying to drown its oversized occupant.
After first stopping in her room to grab her boots and jacket and to hide her dark circles with make up, she headed downstairs to where the rest of the Brotherhood were playing videogames. Wanda's twin brother Pietro Maximoff was, of course, dominating. He was also totally immersed in his game and didn't notice the controller cord wrapping around him until it was too late.
"Ahhh!" he shouted. Wanda walked over and stuck her hand in his back pocket.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Wanda didn't say anything, just took a twenty dollar bill out of her brother's wallet and headed out the door.
"You forgot to say thank you!" the muggee shouted as the front door slammed.
(1) Avatar: The Last Airbender to be precise. And it's more than just a Nickelodeon cartoon. It's one half-hour of animated hilarity! Go Sokka! (The Skysong approves.)
(2) Again, piss is Commonwealth slang for getting wasted/drunk/plastered. "Pissing the night away" is actually a phrase used in the British band Chumbawamba's song "Tubthumping."
(3) Durry is Aussie slang for cigarette.