Chapter Two

Feral Fangs & Adamantium Claws

A good friend is one who thinks you’re a good egg even if you are half-cracked. ~ Author Unknown

I for one have seen many people come and go.  Most of them are frightened of me, of my feral fangs and pointy claws.  But some of them really never cease to amaze me with their kindness. 

It was one of the first things I learned that truly mattered in my life and I embarrassed to admit, but I learned from a girl, who in comparison was an infant.

Chapter Two

It didn’t take her half as long as she thought it would, or maybe she was just hoping it would have taken longer.  Perhaps, she just wanted a long and lengthy brood on the way to Marie’s.  She had already stopped in town for coffee and the best bagels this side of the Mason Dixon.  She had already suffered through the extremely awkward half an hour with her latest puppy-faced stalker, Richie when she had to wait for the bagels to rise.  It was probably a good idea that Guthries Bakery had such delectable treats, and that she loved Marie so much, because Richie, was a lost cause.  The man-child managed to stare at her modestly covered breasts for a straight fifteen minutes this morning – a new personal record - before she threatened to castrate him.  But as usual he just smiled dreamily and gushed about how he added her extra salmon flavored cream cheese “free of charge”. 

After that horrendous display Rose was almost convinced to give up this ass-kissing thing and go straight back to bed, and she really wished she had listened to her own instincts when she encountered her next trial.

This trial came with a snooty name, a designer suit and more exuberance than any man should have in the morning… or ever.  Felix, was Marie’s intern at the gallery, and the misery of Rosalie’s life.  He was damn good with sale, new his art and had lots of cushy cliental.  But he was also loud, nosy and constantly on her ass about her choice in fashion. 

He was also very, very gay. 

Now, Rose had never had a thing against someone’s sexual orientation, she could give a shit less whether someone preferred to drive stick over automatic, but Rose hated anyone that was that perky in the morning, and was oblivious to her annoyance.

“Good Morning, Angel!”  He’d gush, clapping his hands like the President had just walked into room.  “You looking tired this morning, honey, you feeling okay?  Oh, I know just the thing!  My girlfriend Candy, Candy with a K, not a C, well anyways just the other day she told me about this new spa…

And that’s pretty much where she’d tune him out. 

Dear Lord, Ah didn’ know it was possible fer anyone to talk that long without breathin’.

It really was a shame that he liked men; he’d been perfect for Jubes, as it was those two were tighter at the hip than conjoined twins.

Leaving as quickly as possible, and through the back in hopes of deflecting another gibbering tirade of cashmere and hair-care products, Rose headed for a place she, at the moment, considered Hell.

Now she found herself standing like a statue, mouth gaping in horror at the front of what was perhaps the gaudiest house on the block, but considering who it belonged to, she figured she shouldn’t have been so surprised.  Whatever she had previously thought before she laid eyes on the monstrosity before her was gone forever now.  The house was an exact replica of ‘Graceland’, which she also found funny as she noted the painting in her hand. 

Remy might be a bastard but he sure loved Marie. 

Still, she didn’t wanna go in.  It was going to be a direct hit to her pride, but in the grand scheme of things she really didn’t have much of a choice and she really doubted Marie would be the one to come to her first. 

No.  This was her mistake.  She had been the one to act like a complete ass when Marie showed up after a dinner date with the Swamp-rat, all flushed faced and smiling like she had found the answer to World Peace.

Jubilee had called her insensitive later that night and she had told the Firecracker to go choke on her yellow Gucci bag.  In Rose’s mind, Jubilee was just as bad as Remy for encouraging Marie to get married. 

Ever since Marie bused through her door a month ago, sporting a super-rock on her left fourth finger and caterwaulin’ like a dyin’ pig about decorating her new home, Marie and Jubilee had been thicker than thieves. 

Good fer them!

As for Rose?  She was pretty sure she threw up in her mouth a little and shortly after she made that apparent she said some pretty shitty things that she very much regretted now; hence the twelve thousand dollar original that dangled from under her arm.  It was Marie’s favorite artist and Rose had gotten a screamin’ deal at an estate sale.  Marie had eyed it from the very begging, but it’s not like she wouldn’t have known better anyways.  It was no secret that Marie loved everything Elvis.  It being, an original Thomas Kinkaid painting that depicted ‘Graceland’ at Christmas and now it would adorn her mantel in her own Casa de Graceland.

But she figured if there was anything that would guarantee her a get out of jail free card, it was this.  She would suck it up, at least pretend to be happy for them and then, if a time should arise for that dipshit with the pansy accent to make her cry, she would neuter him good an’ proper.

For Marie, Rose would do anything.

She wasn’t a naïve person, she knew that most people didn’t like her much, or not at all in a lot of cases.  Either out of fear or jealously, she just wasn’t accepted in either the mutant or human community.

Shit!  Ah ain’t even a mutant, and ah sure as Hell ain’t no human!

If her name and breeding weren’t bad enough – not that anyone really knew that – she was all the more spiteful of strange red hair and pointed ears.  Or perhaps having eyes that belonged on an animal instead of the young woman she appeared to be.  She mused briefly that she could wear glasses in public like Remy, but they dulled her sensitive eyes and made her tetchy.

Either way, she was used to it and had joked many times that ‘she had been the poster child for treat me like a freak’ since she was born.

All that being said: losing a friend, even if it is just one, was one friend too many.

So there she stood, still gaping at Marie’s house while she remained still as a statue on the corner of Coward Street and Stubborn Avenue, too scared to press a little plastic button she knew was connected to the doorbell. 

Her breakfast was going cold and she was practically salivating for the fresh salmon she knew Marie always bought, and usually for her.  It didn’t matter that Marie was pissed at her; Marie was too kind not to be prepared.

Alright, she told herself with a growl.  Time to get it together.

Steeling her nerves she began to plan.  She was gonna go in there like the grown-ass woman she was and make nice with the Swamp-rat.  Then she was gonna go home, preparing for the ‘infestation’ problem that would be occurring this afternoon, and be done with it all in time to watch the Saint’s kick some major ass on her brand new pristine 85' inch projection screen Pete had set up as an early Christmas present. 

With a heavy sigh, she reminded herself about the other issue she had on her plate today and thought perhaps it might not be as easy as all that.  And as an afterthought she really wished for Cassidy’s presence once again.

She wasn’t so sure she could handle all of her new guests and Jubilee all at the same time.  She felt like hangin’ herself in the oven, if you know what I mean?

“Oh…God,” she groaned.  She was not ready for another student from Xavier’s; they were always so… so precocious when they first arrived, and supercilious too.

The fabulous idea of a new roommate wasn’t even hers.  No, that marvelous idea came from Marie whilst she was so lovingly packing her shit, and trying to get her to see the bright side of things.  “You can make a new friend,” Marie had said.  Yeah, like she really wanted one.  Needless to say Rose spent the remainder of that evening down at the local pup, sulking into a glass of neatly made whiskey. 

The candidate for said roommate was a female mutant that both Marie and Jubilee knew from their days at the school for gifted youngsters.  But to Rose this only meant one thing, that this girl was probably another one of Xavier’s little angels that needed to get out and experience life.

Despite any protest Rosalie could have made, Marie went ahead and made the arrangements.  Rose wanted to end her on the spot.

Marie was practically vibrating with enthusiasm as she explained what an incredibly sweet girl this newbie was, and what an absurdly perfect family she hailed from.

Good, Rose snarked to herself, Let her go back to them.  She could care less.

Of course Marie had said all of this loud enough for Jubes to overhear and there are not words to express the squeal of delight Jubilee let loose as she came practically splintering through her bedroom door, gushing about how much she had missed her friend. 

Apparently, Miss Katherine Pryde was another fashionista after Jubilee’s own heart, or that’s what Rose gathered from the hour long spiel about trips into D.C. and needing a new hobo, whatever the hell that was. 

If this was indeed the case, Rosalie would be more than will to kiss the ground Kitty Pryde walked on.  If there ever was a godsend, it would be for Jubilee to have a shopin’ partner that didn’t include herself.

Katherine had sounded nice enough over the phone the first few times she had actually managed to wrangle the phone away from Jubilee long enough to get a word in, but she was still the same cynical and skeptical woman she’d always been and still had her doubts.

Not to mention the thought of meeting one new person was enough to make her cringe, but this girl was bringing baggage with her, a lot of it.  Another mutant that goes by the name of Pyro was joining the ranks of misfits in the area and was moving into a house just down the street.  He had been one of Magneto’s pawns before he realized that he was nothing more than fodder, but it was too late now to just up and rejoin the X-Men so Xavier sent him here; with two very male watchdogs. 

Yippy.

At least they weren’t staying with her, she mused, not sure that she could handle any more of that do-gooder bullshit.

Hearing the concerned muttering of Remy and Marie’s neighbors roused Rosalie enough from her inner rambling to notice the fluttering curtains from every home on the culdesac , and that was enough to get her ass in gear. 

She realized then, with annoyance, that she had been standing there, staring at the front door for a little over fifteen minutes and she was sure all the neighbors were about to call the cops.  They all knew what she was and didn’t really need the petit blond with fake boobs to call her a ‘mutie bitch’ for her to understand she wasn’t wanted there.

Heaving a great sigh, she put one foot in front of the other and hesitantly pressed that little plastic square.  Instantly, she wanting to break it as “Jail House Rock” came chiming out in irritating gongs and pings. 

“Fuckin’ Rouge.” She groaned.  Well, one thing was for certain Remy and Marie were in dork heaven together. 

~

Rose found herself hard pressed to bite back the laughter bubbling up her throat as she heard the Cajun groan.  “Don’t like that doorbell so much now, huh?

“Who da fuck be here at dis hour,” Remy grumbled, shuffling his hand around under the pristine sheets of bedding, no doubt looking for his soon-to-be bride.  “Ol Remy, no wanna get up.”

It was muffled, more than likely by the skin of said soon-to-be bride, but she’d know that fucktard’s voice anywhere; even if he didn’t speak in the third person.

She could hear Marie giggling and protesting to his advances.  Gag.

“Ah don’ know, you jackass.  Do you see x-ray goggles strapped to my face?”   Marie retorted, and Rose could almost she Remy’s brow shoot up in shock.  Yeah, she must have been pickin’ up a few things from the resident smartass; Cass.

“Why don’ de Cher bend over an’ take a look, non?”  This of course is followed by a loud ‘thwack” and Marie’s reprimand of “Remy, now’s not the time!”  As he no doubt, tried to cop a feel.

Ah, Rouge’s future husband.  Cute, ain’t he?”

Ick.

But really, this is why Rose loved Marie so much; she was just classy like that. 

As more shuffling noises drift from the thick walls and heavy curtains, Rose can tell it will be Marie who opens  the door for her this morning, and hopefully doesn’t slam it straight back into her deserving face.

“Hey, if it be dat bastard family o’ mine, tell ‘im to piss off.  Ce Chein can go get ‘is coffee someplace else.”

She laughed hard; she really couldn’t help it.  If there was a definition for annoying, horny, asshole in the dictionary, well, Eitenne’s picture would be plastered to the top as an example, complete with his own messy scrawl of a phone number.  It would read: desperate and willing to please.

As annoying a flirt Rose thought Remy was when she first met him, Eitenne was a hundred times worse.  As bad as Remy was, she still had a hard time believing Remy was related to that abomination of the male species… he was just that bad.

A muttered, “Asshole,” quickly follows as her footsteps retreat from the upper levels of the LeBeau mansion and seemed to be fumbling their way to the front door. 

It didn’t take long for her bright eyed and overly chipper friend to yank open the front door, wearing nothing more than a scrap of a negligee and some underwear Rose didn’t think would even pass as glorified dental floss. 

“Rose, what are ya doin’ here, hun?”  Marie asked wide eyed and completely stunned; like she honestly couldn’t believe she was standing there.

Rose was at a loss for words.  What could she really say to her?  Ah’m a bitch an’ Ah’ was wrong? Marie already knew all that. So she remained silent, her head hung in shame as she presented her a cold breakfast like a white flag of surrender and the painting in her hand as penance.

Marie sighed, long and hard, and for a moment Rose thought Marie just might slam that door in her face after all.  It would be no more than she deserved, after the way she had acted.

“Well,” she snapped finally, throwing a feisty hand on her hip with a mother’s scowl.  “Don’t just stand there freezin’ t’ death like the hick idiot ya are.  Come inside.”

“Alright, Teddy-Bear,” Rose said in defiance, quipping just as quickly as she held out the painting for Marie’s eyes to behold. 

Marie sucked in an excited breath as she heard the catch phrase.  Her eyes going wide as they fell to the uncovered painting, and an unnatural squeal forcing its way out of her mouth.

“Remy!”  Marie yelled up the staircase.  “You’re neva gonna believe who’s here with my early Christmas present!”

“If it be Santa,” Remy yelled with chuckle,  “Ya gonna have t’ club ‘im, Cher, Remy ain’t got no pants on.”

Both girls laughed at that.  Shaking her head in amusement, Rose could help but think, same ol’ idiot, all the while praying that he never changed.

~

The morning was spent casually between friends doing nothing more than hem hawing over coffee and hanging Marie’s new painting over the fireplace in her formal living room. 

“You know you’re next in line, right?”  Marie teased, raising a brow in a speculative manner as if daring her to deny it.  Though her teasing was only partly in jest, she really did have a hopeful outlook that her friend would finally find someone and become as happy as her and Remy. 

Rose didn’t say much for the first few minutes, looking on blankly, never even blinking and it made Marie feel guilty. 

Marie knew Rose would never say anything because that was the kind of woman she was, never one to show weakness if she could help it.  But Marie knew better, Rose needed someone in her life; someone to care for her in ways she refused to care for herself.  It was written plainly before Marie’s face as they finally settled together at the breakfast bar and Rose commented on Marie’s engagement ring. 

“It’s beautiful,” she had commented, but as usual her eyes were sad and distant; that faraway look of resentment and sorrow fix firmly on her heavy brow.   Then she’d change the subject.  This also was a constant.

It might have been a bit of a stretch, but Marie was convinced that Rose’s anger over Remy proposing stemmed for intense loneliness.  She wouldn’t say Rose was jealous; Rose had already done that for herself, but it was very hard not to want to shake the hell out of her and ask ‘why?”.   Marie knew it had nothing to do with Remy, not really.  There was no undercurrent of sexual want between them, and if Rose had wanted him she could have had him long ago, but she didn’t. 

Hell, most of the time Rose just hurled brightly colored insults at him and then they’d go drinking.  They were friends and nothing more, so that wasn’t it.

Whatever had crawled up Rosalie’s ass went deeper than petty jealousy, though she could see that there too.  It was as if the woman was torn between protecting her from getting hurt and not wanting to stick around for the pain of having to watch something you wanted for yourself flung in her face, and it killed Marie to see her friend in so much pain.

Rosalie had been such a sassy and strong presence in her life since first meeting her, but even as young as Marie was in comparison, she could see the intense sort of sorrow lurking behind that saucy façade.

It was hard to know what to do in a situation like this.  Rose was a quiet person, or quiet about her own life anyways.  Marie didn’t even have a clue as to what the woman’s life was like before she had met Remy and Cass, except for the small comments that she let slip about her time with the Summer’s

family.  Marie was confident that everyone in their small, vagabond family had asked her at least once before, but like always, Rosalie refused to talk about it. 

They all knew some things about the woman for certain.  They knew something traumatic had happened to her, and that it was greatly possible that she had lost someone she cared about; perhaps even the man that she loved.  But she wouldn’t talk about that either.

Remy, who had spent more time with her than anyone hazard that with Rosalie’s mutation being of a feral nature, that maybe the ‘someone’ she had lost was someone she considered her mate; and like some animals when they lose their mates, they never take another. 

This was all speculation, of course, but someone in the pit of Marie’s stomach, she knew it to be true.

A shriek of laughter had Marie all but jumping out of her skin as her companion through back her head of fire opal curls and laughed like she had finally cracked.  It took the woman several minutes to calm herself but when she did, she smiled amusedly and went about eating her breakfast as if nothing had happened.

“What?”  Marie found herself asking, giddiness assaulting her now from the infection of her friend’s candid laughter.

“It’s not possible,” her friend crowed around a mouth full of cream-cheese bagel and raw tuna. 

Ick.

“What?”  She asked again, entirely confused but no less intrigued.

“Me being next in line, it ain’t possible.”  She said by way of explanation.  “Ah ain’t even datin’ anyone!” 

And Rosalie truly meant this too, Marie mused.  She might not have the feral sense of smell like Rose and Logan but she could tell she wasn’t lying about this; she truly believes that she will die alone and sometimes Marie believed she had already resigned herself to that fate.   That was why Remy’s guess seemed so exacted to her.  If the shoe fits, wear it. 

As if she had heard Marie’s private thoughts, Rose cocked her head to the side, her eyes and nose scrunching up on her delicate face.  Then with a sarcastic grin and a mocking impersonation of Remy, she asked, “Are ya feelin’ alright, Cher? ‘Cause that’s gotta be the most bat-shit crazy mess to evea come outta yer mouth.”  And if all the mocking and biting wasn’t enough for Marie, the little naysayer laid a hand on her forehead like she was checking her for scarlet fever, giggling all the while.

Yeah, keep on gigglin’ sugha!  Marie thought with a scowl, but Rose wasn’t finished yet.

“Plus,” she added, stuffing the remainder of her bagel into her mouth in one bite.  “If Ah was a bettin’ woman, and I am.”  She boasted proudly, pausing dramatically for affect while swallowing. 

Marie just shook her head because she knew what was coming next.

“Ah believe my Jubilation will be rollin’ down the aisle long before me.” 

Marie sniggered a little because while she believed the statement to be entirely untrue – or at least she hoped it was – she still found Rose’s knack for humorous skepticism hilarious.

She frowned at Marie then, or perhaps it was more to herself, and that sadness that rolled through those deep orchard eyes was enough to nearly break Marie’s heart.  It made her seemed aged, closer to the 182 years Marie knew her to actually be instead of the fresh looking woman that sat before her. 

“That’ll suck,” she commented in nothing more than a whisper.

It was nothing more than a murmur to Marie but she was fairly certain she had heard her right.  “What’ll suck sugah?”

“That… I’ll be all alone again.” 

The way she said it almost frightened Marie in its intensity.  It was strong and powerful but yet Rosalie had almost been in some sort of a trance as she spoke.  It was eerily similar to being around Logan when bits of his past come back to haunt him and it made Marie wonder if she was thinking of him; the man she had lost. 

Oh, Rosie, what happened to you?

Ever since Xavier had set Marie on this woman’s path, and even with how close of friends they had become, Rosalie had never uttered a single word about the mysterious man who must have stolen her heart and undoubtedly broken it somehow.

Marie thought maybe Rosalie had been jilted to some extreme measure, but highly doubted that was the case.  None of their friends did, either.  Not Pete, not Jubes, not Remy or Cass, none of them really believed Rose could be so torn-up over something like a scorned heart; she was too strong for that. 

And the sadness they had all felt from her at one point or another was not the pain of a disparaged heart, but more like the irrevocable pain of completely broken heart; it was like she mourned for someone.  The deep haunting pain behind those eyes caused Marie to shutter uncontrollably as she searched her mind for answers. 

What on earth could make someone so tragically sad?

The answer was as clear and strong as a warm summer morning.  She thought about how she would feel if something ever happened to Remy, and then taking advice from the Logan inside herself she multiplied that to the thousandth power; as a feral would love.  And nearly fell of her chair. 

It was all consuming; the despair, the rage, the hurt and the longing.  Marie wanted to fold in on herself and never return, but she pushed the emotions away.  They were not her own and Remy was alive and well, but the damage was done, she had gotten her wish and now she knew exactly how Rose might feel.  It was staggering.

Just as quick as the mournful wave of emotions had hit Rose, it passed.  She popped up then, like a jack-in-the-box, eyes wild and frantic.   “Ah’m gonna end up the fuckin’ cat lady!”

Marie just looked at Rose in shock, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes wide.  Sudden vicious laughter bubbled from her chest and up her throat before she could stop it.  She didn’t know if Rose was joking or not when she said she’d end up the cat lady, but seeing as her mutation ran along the lines of a feral feline, Marie just couldn’t help herself and she laughed until her stomach hurt.  But how could you not, her friend was truly hopeless.

Sometimes Marie just couldn’t get over her strange friend.  Rose was loud, crass and didn’t bother to close her mouth when she chewed.  She liked to drink, smoke, fuck and fight; and Marie had it on good authority that she had a wide array of vibrators at her service for such occasions.  She had the saucy southern sass of a girl from the hills of Tennessee and she hated wearing – well anything – but underwear more than anything else.

Baring the southern accent and the stench of cheap cigars, Rose oddly enough reminded Marie of Logan and she had mused more than once that it must be a feral thing.  Victor was much the same way, if she remembered correctly.  But one thing was for sure, Rose was about the furthest thing you could get from a homespun southern belle.

But Marie also knew that even as Rose worked herself through the good whiskey, the best smokes, fought the best fights and used the best vibrators to slake her lust, Rose was still unhappy.  Sure, Rose might get through her day to day with a smile, but Marie knew better.  Rose was simply good at hiding and seeing as Marie has had her very own feral best friend since she was sixteen, it made perfect sense to her that Rose didn’t want to let her guard down, that she didn’t want her friends to see her pain. 

Marie was far from a fool, she’d heard the screamin’ and the nightmares, and she’s heard Rose calling out for ‘Jimmy’ in her sleep, pleading with him to come back home; they all had.  But pain is viewed as little more than a weakness in the animal kingdom and Rose had already learned that lesson firsthand and how dangerous it is when you show someone your weakness.

And just like Logan, Rose was always easily agitated after a night of terrifying wails in the dark and Marie learned after a time, just as the others had, to just leave her be when she was like that.  Cassidy was the only one who could really be around Rose on those days, he was the only one who seemed to understand her and Marie firmly believed that Cass knew more about Rose’s past than he let on to anyone else. 

Marie had found that out for herself one night when she, admittedly eavesdropped on them once.  It was a rare night when Rose and Cass had gotten drunker than skunks, so drunk in fact that they had no clue she was even there.  Rose had cried a lot that night, cried for the sexual assault that they all knew about but were too terrified of her temper to bring it up, and she cried again for him.  Her Jimmy, whoever he was.

Marie didn’t come out completely unscathed from the incident entirely, for Cassidy came to her the next morning, or should she say ‘came at her’, all but threatening to tear her head off should she breathe a word about what she had heard, either to Rose or anyone else.  Apparently he wasn’t too drunk to sense her presence, but simply didn’t want to upset Rose by letting on that Marie was there.

Of course she swore to the Lord Almighty never to speak of the rape or anything else she had heard, and for the most part she kept her promise and never said a word.  That was until Remy approached her, having himself gotten wind of Cassidy’s attack on her. 

What shocked Marie more than anything was that Remy already knew…  He had been present in the weeks that Rose went missing. 

So, to keep Marie from Cassidy’s wrath, Remy told her Rose’s story and after Marie didn’t know if she’d ever look at the woman the same way again. 

It was difficult to think of Rose that way, to think of her as anything but the resilient, hero-type figure she had always been to Marie.  But she guessed that even the strongest of characters had a breaking point and Marie couldn’t fathom anyone surviving such an ordeal.

According to Remy, Rose had left one night in early summer to meet with ‘an old friend’ she hadn’t seen in years, only she didn’t return.  This happened years ago, mind you, and yet Marie could see the man practically trembling throughout the entire conversation; like he was actually reliving the events as he told them.  She went missing for weeks and even with the help of the local police, and the expertise of Charles Xavier, Rose seemed to have disappeared without a trace. 

She wasn’t found until nearly a month later and when she was, Rose was never the same.  She had been found shacked to the floor of an old warehouse in D.C.; nearly beaten to death, starved and naked. 

Remy explained that he didn’t think the police would have even bothered to notify them at all if they had been able to handle her, but as it was, they were out of their depth in dealing with a caged feral who could withstand human sedatives.  So they called on Charles Xavier who in turned called Cassidy. 

It was a sad story, and frankly one that still gave Marie nightmares as she imagined what Rose must have gone through, and of course how she would have handled the repercussions of that aftermath.  Rose was a changed woman, a skittish feral with superhuman strength and a flashy temper. 

At least now Marie understood why Rose forbids anyone to wake her from her nightmares; fourteen people dead and all because Rose felt threatened.  Remy adamantly believed that she was taunted; that someone purposefully triggered her memory of the horrific event, that it might have been their plan all along. 

Remy was always one suspicious of government conspiracies, but Marie figured she would be too if she had been the one held in a lab for two years. 

Rose never told anyone who did it, or if she did Remy wouldn’t say.  They only thing he did tell Marie about that despicable person, was that Rose knew him.  Or was it them?  Marie still wasn’t clear on all the specifics.  

Either way, it was a lot of weight for one person to shoulder alone, and yet that was exactly what her friend did, every night of her life. 

Marie had been pissed off at Cassidy for several weeks after being told of what really happened to Rose before she finally sought him out.  It hurt that he truly seemed to think that she was capable of hurting Rose by running her mouth and was more than a little determined to let him know exactly how she felt.  After a slap to the face and a few choice words, Marie was certain that Cass was convinced that she’d never tell another living soul. 

Not that Marie would have told anybody anyways, and it had nothing to do with Cassidy going all alpha dog and threatening her.  She honestly loved Rose like a sister.  The woman had done so much for Marie, not only by giving her a home and acceptance for the choices she’d made, but she also had brought her to Remy.

Marie had been having a difficult time dealing with the pressures of the mansion after she had taken the cure.  Bobby had left her for Kitty, and even though she knew it was only a matter of time before their relationship ended, it still hurt. 

Things were awkward and shaken after the revelation at Alkali Lake.  Scott was well… misplaced; he thought his wife had died and then one day she just magically showed up at the front door, looking like a lost puppy, but alive all the same. 

Soon after that Jean started acting strangely, predatory even and that threw Logan for a loop and then, he too was acting… off. 

All in all, it was a bit too much for Marie to handle and she was planning to run.

That was how Xavier found her; a mass of wadded-up clothing and tears streaming down her face.  He told her that he knew what she was planning to do, and while he’d hoped she would reconsider staying on at the mansion he was there to offer her another way.  That was how she learned about Rose, ‘an acquaintance of Scott’s’, he had said.  Xavier even went so far as telling her that the woman was sort-of an older-sister of Scott’s, but the point was that she – on occasion – opened her doors to the gifted that simply didn’t feel that their lives were destined as X-Men.

Marie jumped at the chance, leaving the school behind without a backwards glance and ended up in a little one Sheriff town called Blithe. 

Of course less than a year later, the cure was determined a failure and Marie was once again left with poisonous skin, but even then Rose helped her.  They toiled ruthlessly for months as they strived for Marie’s control and in the end they were met with success.  Now, Marie felt more comfortable in her own skin than ever she had. 

Rose had done that for her.  Giving her hope when there was none, giving her a home and the family she always wanted, even if it was dysfunctional.  The woman before her had done all that and more; Marie would never betray her. 

Marie watched her friend in silent contemplation for most of the morning, entertained that Rose could amuse herself so easily.

As long as ya have ESPN, she though dryly.

Sometimes it was a challenge reminding herself that the brash woman sitting at her breakfast nook had any correlation with the gentle Scott Summers; team leader and teacher extraordinaire.  What could they possibly have in common?  Scott was a quiet and reserved man, who rarely spoke out of turn and hardly ever raised his voice in anger.  To cut to the chase: the man was nothing like his supposed half-sister, or sort-of sister. 

Whatever. 

Rose was his complete opposite.  She was loud, opinionated and brutally honest. 

That in turn led Marie back to where her thought process began: finding someone for Rose. 

It was baffling to her; the lack of male bodies willing to give Rose their all.  Sure, Rose had her shortcoming, in fact she had a lot of them, but still, Marie was under the impression that men generally like that in a woman.  That they were drawn to the strong, unattainable types and it was no secret to anyone that Rose was a beautiful woman. 

Petit in her build but she definitely wasn’t lacking for curves, and sure her hair was a little on the outlandish side – it being the color of a fire truck – but it wasn’t that radical.  Her eyes might seem frightening to most but Marie thought they were the most interesting shade she had ever seen, besides Remy’s. They were the color of gold; kinda like Logan’s when he let his hold slip on the Wolverine. 

Lot of good it did her friend though.  Rose couldn’t manage a phone number in this town, let alone a date.  Sure she could find plenty of men offering to give her the ‘ride of her life’ but that usually ended in bloodshed, if not by Rose’s own hand then it was Pete, Remy or Cass doin’ the slaughterin’. 

Marie had just sat down with a fresh cup of coffee when Rose rekindled their earlier conversation – or grumbling – about everyone marrying off and her being alone. 

“Ah’m tellin’ ya, next Jubilee’s gonna come home hitched and my ass is gonna be left in the cold to rot with Cass and Pete!  Ah’ll have a dozen cats and Cass n’ Pete will be off whorin’ themselves out at the local nursin’ home!” 

Somewhere in the back of Marie’s mind she cursed Remy.  How could he leave her like this?  He was probably sitting in the next room listening to Rose rant and laughing his ass off at my discomfort.  The bastard knew he could waltz in, say something stupid and have her distracted in no time. 

“Well, ya know, Chere, Eitenne could warm dat beautiful ass o’ yours anytime ya want.”

Chapter One

Feral Fangs & Adamantium Claws

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.  – G.K. Chersterton

I have known both love and loss.  I found love as a child in the small town of my birth.  I learned what it meant to mourn the loss of love much the same way; as nothing more than a simple woman on a cold winter night begging for them to come home, for him to come home.  What tears of wasted endless sorrow.

Chapter One

In the darkness of a small house in northern Virginia, a body stirred beneath heavy downy linens.  It was not the howling wind that caused the body to shift, restlessly, nor was it the subtle plunking of icy rain.  It was a dream that had this body shifting restless beneath the safe haven of Egyptian cotton and microfiber suede, or rather it was a nightmare.

Blood.  It ran down the walls from the ceiling like icing on a warm cake, coating everything in a thick red that made her want to gag. 

There was always so much blood.

It covered everything she could see, and somewhere, in her subconscious, she knew it was hers.  It spilled from her body then, pouring from thickly sliced ribbons that marred her every inch. 

She can’t see his face clearly, but his scent is familiar.  It’s sickening in the way it comforts and frightens her at the same time. 

Her vision blurs and then clears to claws sharp and deadly, gleaming in the sallow tint of the artificial light.  His face is still obscured from view, but she can clearly see each razor sharp tip, resting at the top of every one of his powerful fingers.

Pain explodes behind her eyes and her tormenter purrs, growing excited by the fear he can scent flowing from her like waves. 

Again he strikes her and the pain is born anew, blossoming like the sun over her face as she takes another blow, then another, and another. 

Her mind screams in protest as she smells his desire taking hold, his scent his heady with arousal and instinctively she knows what comes next. 

She disoriented, too many nights and days without fresh air, without food and water.  Her vision swam behind her eyes as she tried to focus of the imposing blond who held her captive while trying to ignore the other men who stood by, aroused and ready for a show. 

When would it all end?  She asked herself, or maybe she asked him, she wasn’t sure anymore. 

He laughed at her then while pushing back her tangled hair from her brow with a large paw-like hand, noticing a spike in her that he could identify as confusion.

“Don’t worry, Little Rosie,” he purred, his pink tongue darting out from between full lips and canine teeth.  “I’ll take care of you.” 

“DON’T!”  Rosalie bolted upright in her bed, her chest heaving in heavy pants with the escalating fear as she tried to get ahold of herself; to remember where she was. 

She doesn’t have to strain herself under the dense pitch of night; her feral eyes can see every small detail of her home at a quick glance.  She relaxes slightly after taking in the eclectic décor that she knows is hers.  

“Ah’m safe.  Ah’m home.”  Her voice is heady with emotions as she replays her mantra, both audibly and in her mind; willing the frantic beats of her heart to slow.   Her throat is dry, scratchy forcing her to realize that she had probably been screaming for some time. 

It was not for the first time in months that she was glad her home was devoid of all life, save for herself.  She was relieved that Jubilee had an overnight date and that Pete was visiting his grandmother in D.C., she couldn’t stand the thought of them having to approach her bedside another night, cautiously calling out to her like she was a wounded wild animal.

Rosalie knew she and her mutation were hard enough for everyone to deal with in her waking hours, but they were that much more dangerous after dark, when her nightmares set in and the feral was set loose. 

She sighed as she gathered her damp locks from where the stuck to the back of her neck, twisting them into a messy not at her crown.  

Third one this week, too, she thought offhandedly, pulling the sweat soaked sheet from her legs and slipping from the warmth of her bed. 

The air was cool and refreshing against her fevered skin of her feet as she padded silently against the chilled wood of the newly installed hardwood floors, grabbing her robe from where it had been discarded across her desk chair and slipping it one. 

The room was stifling, constricting and overbearing to her delicate senses.  With her mind still muddled from the nightmare induced fear, she nearly sprung to the double French doors that led to her private patio. 

She knew Jubes would be having an aneurism inducing rant right about now if she were home; complaining about letting all the bought heat out.

Rosalie smiled a bit to herself at the thought.  Jubilee was such a petit girl, smaller than herself even and was about as intimidating as an angry kitten. 

You ain’t here, Jubilation Lee and if you were, you could still kiss my ass!

The air outside of her modest home was chilly, chillier than the season usually dictated.  This time of year was far from her favorite anyway but now with only a thin scrap of clothing as her only barrier against the slightly gusting wind she found the season miserable.

A shiver and a small groan of annoyance passed her sleep parched lips as she realized with a start that it was still completely black outside.  The early hour of the morning had not occurred to her until now.  In fact she wouldn’t have noticed the hour at all had it not been for her need to escape the cloistering walls and stale air of her bedroom.

Nevertheless, it was far too early to be awake, even for her.

The ski’s inky blackness was smattered with the hazy clouds of last night’s rain, hiding the glittering stars from her gaze.  Even the god’s of the sky seemed to understand her gloomy mood, for the weather seemed to be in tandem with her emotions.  Today was not about hugs and sunshine, or any other sappy shit.  Today she wanted the overcast skies.  A thunderstorm would do, maybe even a hurricane. 

Give me a fuckin’ downpour!

It would make her happy, so happy, if only for knowing that every dick in this town would be miserable and suffering too.

As a feral mutant Rose had always lived life a little on the nocturnal side, usually never straying far from her bed until the sun was in its highest position in the sky, or at least if she could help it.  Lately though sleeping the morning away became an impossible venture and she couldn’t decide which made her angrier; the thought of being awake or what actually kept her from sleeping. 

Either way, it was going to be a broody day in the neighborhood.   It was a well-known fact to Rose’s co-workers and friends that she wasn’t much fun to be around when Cassidy was away; not that she much fun to be around on the best of days, or so she had been told, frequently.

To be perfectly honest, the overcast skies and faint misting of rain seemed to be in perfect sync with her fast growing ugly mood.  She wanted nothing more than to stew in her own anger and despair today; to soak in her own toxic juices until the jealously within her heart spewed from her chest in molten bursts.

She mused that it would be a fitting end; death by green envy and after all the suffering she’d cause over the last few weeks, it would be no less than she deserved.  Not that she’d be sad if by some miracle a tidal wave of epic proportions were to take out the entire eastern seaboard and Xavier’s marry band of mutant misfits with it.  After all, who ever said she needed a new roommate? 

A Miss Sparkles and Mrs. Swamp rat, apparently, the schemin’ hobags that they are!

Deciding that she was still a tad bit too pissed off to return to bed, she scuttled out to the kitchen in search of something strong and bitter, perhaps with a side of whiskey.   It was eerily quiet when she stepped out of her bedroom and into the living room, it was almost disconcerting when one becomes used to sharing their home with two other woman and one gigantic man; all which worked or commuted to college at different hours of the day and night.  She wasn’t quite sure if she liked this new sense of peace. 

Though, when she went to check the large red can for her favorite morning brew only to find a yellow scrap of paper in the stead of her glorious grounds of coffee beans, she decided she didn’t care if she ever saw the crazy, lipstick wearing poltergeist ever again.

“Jubilation Lee!”  She snarled into the empty can before pocketing the little yellow reminder; complete with smile faces and bright red lip print, as a reminder to herself to stuff it down Jubilee’s gum chewin’ throat the nest time she showed her cheery face.

Nobody messes with my coffee!

Too bad Cass isn’t here, he’d gut ‘er fer sure.

Remy would just snicker and come up with some fancy way of calling her stupid for drinking anything less than gourmet in the first place.

She smiled a little at the thought of her friends.  It was still strange for her, learning to live among people with abnormalities so close to her own.  It really only started, her taking in strays that is, after she was sure he was never coming back, after she’d seen him with her, that deceiver. 

It had started out as a way to make easy money, a way for the boys to provide for her.  Women didn’t have a lot of opportunities for work in those days and he said he couldn’t stand the thought of her in another gambling house. 

So it began.  One grizzly war after the next, and each time she saw just a little piece of them die, a little less light in their eyes.  Nothing was so sorrowful than to watch the people you love die from the inside out.  Even worse was the knowledge that one day they would not come home at all. 

And it did happen.  The Vietnam War was supposed to be the last; it was always supposed to be the last and then it happened, just like she always expected it too.  She supposed it was fused within their blood, buried in some deep dark corner of their genes; the killing, the violence. 

And like so many times before, they promised that this time would be different. 

It wasn’t a war, they told her.  This was a way to really serve their country.  This was an elite team.  Special Forces.  A way to make a difference.  

Special Forces my ass!

Rose knew full well what kind of uses the government had for people like him, for people like them. 

Didn’ stop him none though, did it?

Tossing the painful memories of him to the side momentarily, she thought of Alex Summers.  He was the first she had come across after losing everything.  He took her in, made her part of his family and undoubtedly changed her life forever.  She would have never met Cass if not for the Summers family.

Remy Lebeau was one of the first of Rose’s mutant friends, and has since always remained closest to her heart.  She found him in a government facility called the Island; he had helped her escape after escaping himself. 

Years later she came across the wild Cajun again, after he had survived some kind of government experiment.  Apparently the military had been trying to create the perfect solider; a heartless killing machine that couldn’t be killed.  They utterly failed.  She’d found him behind some seedy mutant bar, drunker than a skunk and muttering to himself about a man with metal claws who had been cut to ribbons, shot in the head and didn’t die.  For a long moment after reuniting with the Cajun hope blossomed in her chest; the hopes that he might still be alive, but she knew better, if he had been alive he would have found her.  He was dead.  Or so she thought at the time.

Wade Cassidy Wilson, Jr., aka Quick-Draw had been next.  He was a sweet, smart-assed little thing with a vile bitch of a mother and a dead father; apparently he had been a part of this Weapons X Program as well.  But Cass was her favorite.  Well, after him, anyway, but she didn’t like to think about him; that old wound was still far too tender.

She had had a lot of rouge mutants come through the doors of her little two story house over the years, most of them just stayed long enough to get their shit together before leaving.  Those were the ones she never saw again, not that she cared. 

Some she still kept in contact with after they left, usually to head off in the direction of Xavier’s school, and ended up perfectly good members of society.

But some of these mutants became her second family.

Anna Marie, or Rouge, oddly enough became her first true girlfriend or she had been until that good for nothing Swamp-rat had stolen her away with all that Cajun charm and good looks. 

Perverted sneak thief, she thought solemnly.

Marie had come to her not long after taking the mutant x-gene suppressive known as the Cure.  She no longer felt comfortable living at a school for Mutants where half of them acted betrayed and the other half still shunned her in fear of her once deadly skin. 

Rose could understand that rejection all too well.  Once upon a time she had been the one that both humans and mutants feared, in fact she still was.  When Scott joined with the X-men she was also given a spot amongst their ranks but she too found it an impossible living arrangement.   That was when she and Cass set out from Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, and on their own they started taking in those hopeless few that couldn’t even live amongst their own kind.

She was a mousy little thing when she first arrived, notably distressed and feeling quite alone.  Rose could understand the loneliness and felt more than a little pity for the girl who gave up a part of herself just so she could enjoy the feeling of skin against skin without disastrous repercussions. 

 

A few years after Marie joined the fold came the Mistress of Sass herself; A Ms. Jubilation Lee and her best friend Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin aka Colossus or Pete as everyone around here called him.  Much like Marie, Jubilee never felt she belonged with the X-men; she was too wild and they were too strict.  So like so many of the hopefuls he deemed wrong for his school, Xaiver sent her to Rose.  Pete just came along for the ride.

Grumbling, or perhaps growling under her breath about ‘inconsiderate firecrackers’, Rose stomped off to her bedroom in preparation to find a steaming cup of joe the only way that was possible at this hour; and that was to go fetch one from the little coffee shed just a jaunt down the street.  The only problem was that they didn’t open for another hour or so. 

She had contemplated however briefly of raiding Cass’s pantry, it’s not like he was there to enjoy the coffee beans himself, so why not.  But as she thought about it, realistically, it probably wouldn’t be worth the trouble; he had been gone for months and knowing him – as a man; a man who like most men rarely remembered the importance of securing a lid – the coffee was most likely stale. 

Huffing and spitting like a pissed off snake Rose eyed her closet with distain.  She had decided a run was in order to clear her head, ya know, before she tracked down a certain sparklin’ mutant and shoved her claws up her ass.  But going for a run also meant getting dressed and it was winter.

Growling hatefully at the long sleeved garment she would be forced to wear, she dawned it with a snarl.  She muttered nastily throughout the process of layering and cursed the way the heavy bulk constricted her movements and hindered her skins ability to breathe.  As pretty as the fall foliage was here in Virginian Mountains, Rose absolutely loathed winter.  Mostly she hated the clothes that came along with the biting cold; the woman hated clothing in general and if not for fear of freezing certain appendages off, would be perfectly content otherwise to walk around in the nude.

Having to apply a liberal coat to the mix of layered scratching and compressing clothing didn’t do much to help improve her caffeine deprived rotten disposition.  The upcoming circus that would follow her soon-to-arrive guest she’d be dealing with this afternoon did nothing but make her wish for a way to end it all.

It was always hard in the beginning, learning to share territory with someone knew, having to drop the impeccable shield she carried around her heart to ensure she wouldn’t end up heartbroken at the end.  Marie was proof enough of that.  It was in Marie that Rose learned that love did not always stem from attraction, it was a bizarre lesson for her and for a while she truly thought she had finally lost her mind.  After all, Rose had never once in her life loved anyone of the same sex; her mother had died bringing her into this world and Alex’s wife had died not long after she had come about.   She felt confused at first, until after a very awkward conversation with Rouge – that to this day Remy loved to boast about – that they were sisters and that was that. 

But it had hurt her when Rouge decided she was moving out, no previous warning or even a hint of understanding and now, Rose wasn’t quite so open to doing it all over again. 

Looking out onto the streets from the overhand of her porch roof, Rose sighed.  The first few heavy drops of rain mixed with sleet were like a sign from the heavens that they understood her pain.  She wanted to be happy for all of her friends but sometimes the selfish feral in her made it mostly impossible. 

Deciding that ambling on the porch and grouching about things she held no control over wasn’t really getting her anywhere, she looked to the clock just inside the open French doorway.  It was more out of habit than anything else.  Rose could tell the time of day by merely taking a long drag at the air surrounding her, or simply look to the street.  She could tell by the way the streets were bathed every-so-slightly in soggy orange light of the overhead streetlamps that it was still very early in the morning.  She could just as easily looked to the mountain peaks and see the faintest bit of color and tell when dawn was about to break.  Sometimes ones feral senses really were a nifty gift to have.

She couldn’t wait for the break of dawn; at least then with the rising sun she could effectively avoid other life forms this morning. 

Ever since the mutant ‘problem’ had been brought to the attention of human media, things had been very different.  More now than she could ever remember in her life, humans avoided mutants like the plague and vice versa; it was kind of like the each species thought of the other as though they carried a deadly disease that was contagious by sight alone.  Really that might be taking it a tad too far, most humans couldn’t effectively tell the difference between mutant and their own race and the only mutants that remained either shrouded in shadows were ones like herself; those who bore a physical mutation that humans could see with the naked eye.   Personally, Rose thought the whole thing was fuckin’ ridiculous and really could give a care with others thought of her; if they didn’t like her… well, they could go to Hell.

She really couldn’t figure out either species or why they both seemed to think so highly of themselves that they couldn’t stand to be in each other’s presence.  Perhaps they were just too lazy to try?  Perhaps they were too scared?  Rose was going with the latter on this, though she knew Cass would only disagree with her if he was here.  They had had several long debates on the subject but was usually called a stalemate due to overdriven tempers of random drunkenness.  Then again, whenever they entertained arguments about the mutant species, Cass would usually – as politely as possible – bring up that she wasn’t exactly considered a normal mutant.

Not that Rose considered herself a normal mutant by any means, or at least, she didn’t think she was.  The mutant X-gene typically manifested during puberty or, in some cases pre-adolescence for children under extreme duress.   But Rose was born with her unique mutation both tiny claws and feral fangs, which might have had something to do with her own flesh and blood father selling her, like a piece of fish at the market when she was five.  Her healing factor, however, did not manifest itself until sometime later at which point her ageing process slowed.   The fact that she was more than a century old and still looked no older than twenty-five – and that was pushing it – proved her point. 

As she took her first few strides onto the soft earth below her feet she was assaulted by the first few dense flakes of the first fallen snow of the season, and she seethed.  Rose hated the cold, she tried to tell herself that it was the years that she spent in the Deep South that made her loath the bite in the air; but even she knew that was complete and utter bullshit to a point. 

Sure she had spent a significant amount of time in Tennessee; it was one of her favorite state.  But, she had also spent a lot of time in the mid-west, northwest, and south-west, so it kinda defeated her point. 

The truth was, there was something about the stinging winter wind that reminded her of childhood, of her family, of him, and it never did bode well to think of him.

Still though, she really did hate the tepid temperatures. 

Give me a symphony of crickets and an ol’ porch swing, any day.

And that was mostly truth.  Rose definitely loved hot sticky nights, the heat and humidity.  Nothing could compare in her mind.  Nothing could compare to soft summer nights and sun brewed sweet tea.  Things weren’t hurried down south and everyone seemed to take things at their own pace and that very much appealed to the territorial woman who hated the loud hub-bub of the city.

This snow and city shit is fer the birds!

Shaking her head, Rose increased her pace, reveling in the burning of muscles that pulled and constricted with each step. 

She couldn’t figure it out.  She’d been so damn happy down south; she’d met the Summers family and even learned how to better control her temper around small groups.  So where did it all go wrong?

She have to guess it was after she attended and hastily left Xavier’s and somehow ended up in the Northern part of Virginia, of all places with her spastic best-guy buddy and running a boarding house for Xavier’s mutant prodigies that are tired of being under daddy’s wing.  Basically she was taking care of Xavier’s not-so-do-gooders.

Growling from low in her chest, Rose pushed those thoughts away as her began to pick up speed, determined not to wallow too much about the things she couldn’t change.  It wouldn’t do any good to grumble about being up at this early hour.  It wasn’t worth it to gripe about the nightmares.

Though, she thought bemused, ya’d think if Ah had t’ be stuck wakin’ up in a cold sweat every mornin’, the least my brain could manage some kinda variety.

Sighing dejectedly, she knew they would never change.  They would come for her without fail, a night filled with blood, hate and pain and in the distance a mournful howl.

Three miles into her morning run, Rose smiled to herself as the freedom of the open air burst and burned in her lungs.  It was so freeing just to run, to let all the cares and worries of the world slip from her shoulders as her feet thundered against the pavement. 

Her destination was just up ahead; a secret place reserved for herself and Cassidy.  It was a place for her to unwind when the shit got too out of hand, it was a place for her to lose herself before she snapped, and she was definitely on the verge of snapping.

Taking a deep breath, her feet ambled to a stop at the secret Cliffside that overlooked their sleepy little town of Blithe.  It was still quiet and dark enough to see the lights of the small community come to life below.  Her she could breathe without a soul in the world to bother her.

 

An’ boy howdy do Ah have some reflectin’ to do.

So much had happened in the last month that she could scarcely stand herself anymore.  It wasn’t just the nightmare, though they did play a major role in the unraveling of her mental stability, but that wasn’t all that her up and in a dizzy-tizzy this morning.  Marie, her best girl had moved out, gotten engaged – to none other than that despicable man she called ‘the Ragin’ Cajun’ – all in the timespan of a week. 

It wasn’t necessarily that Rose thought Remy was a bad guy.  She didn’t.  But he had stolen a family member from her and the feral in her didn’t like people messing with her territory.  She knew it was an irrational way to look at things.  Marie wasn’t her property and to be honesty she’d never really thought of Marie that way.  To simply put it, Rose had no idea what was wrong with her. 

Yes, just another one of those pesky feral traits!

Yanking the elastic from her waist length curls of fire opal, she snarled into the darkness, utterly spent and aggravated with herself.  She felt like a fool, a petulant child who was angry for not getting their way.  She should have been happy for her friends; they were in love and she should have been ecstatic for their bliss.  But she wasn’t. 

No, she thought sullenly, Ah prefer runnin’ ‘round in the dark actin’ like a selfish, jealous idiot!

It was times like this when she missed Cass the most, as he was usually the only voice of reason she’d spare a glance at.  He seemed to understand her more than the others and with that understanding came respect and blunt honesty.  Cass was not a man to pull punches for fear of hurt feelings; he told it like it was and dealt with the aftermath later. 

Cass also understood her need to keep others at arms-length as well as he understood her burning desire for family and love.  Rose knew that she was walking contradiction and the others – Remy, Marie, Jubilee, Peter, Scott – they knew it too, difference was, he didn’t care.  

Cass had lost his father when he was just a baby in the early nineteen-eighties at the hands of Government Officials, a wacked out military scientist named William Stryker.  Rose found Cass shortly as a struggling teenager in the back alleys of Memphis, Tennessee; he was tattered, filthy and near starving.  Due to that fact, Cassidy understood my strong connections to those she considered family.  She mused that while most people thought of her as nothing more than a snarling feral bitch on most days, at least she was a loyal one.  She just had a bad temper.  

Cass was as irritating as any older brother but always as friend when needed.  Not that she was lacking in the older brother department; she had that shit in spades, even if she did happen to want to maim one of them at the moment.

But sadly, Cass was gone for the time being at least, off to see Xavier for some secret reason or another.  Whatever it was behind this secrecy was big and Cass wasn’t talkin’.  While Rose was glad that Cass was obviously off doing something for himself for a chance, she still missed him. 

With a weighty sigh, she pushed that though away.  No use feelin’ sorry for myself.

She had enough of that all her life; pity.  Most folks – of the human and mutant variety – who included her friends, thought Rose had some kinda morbid death wish for taking off at the unholy hours she did.  With the Brootherhood, Friends of Humanity and a mischievous God on the loose, and given her track record for the horribly unfortunate she’d be cracked not to agree with them.  Of course her friends knew she was a strong, capable one with a strong mutation and fierce temper, but just the same they knew she had learned through hard knocks that there is always someone out there bigger and badder than you.

Regrettably, Rose was also a feral; a real stubborn sassy bitch, who according to said friends had a real issue with authority and rarely listened to the voice of reason.  

Heaven help the poor bastard that falls n’love with me, right?

Turning her eyes back to the stunning view, Rose is greeted by the first light of grey light peeking over the craggy cliffs of the mountain side.  Watching the sunrise was never a favorite pastime, in fact she rather preferred the decaying rays of the sunset, as they always reminded her of Scott but she surmised there wasn’t much to be done about that now. 

Nope.  Don’t go there.

Rose hated feeling like a petulant child but as she stood there, brooding, in the early morning light she knew that was exactly what she was acting like.  The sad part was that she couldn’t even count how many times she had had this very same conversation with herself, just in this week alone.  No one would deny her over inflated sense of pride or her issues with admitting a wrong doing, it was just in her nature.

But this shit was getting old and she missed her friend.

Ah guess this’s where Ah have to pull up my big girl panties n’ suck it up.  She thought, a little more than amused with herself, but as she thought about her short-comings in the weeks passed inspiration hit; she knew just the thing to fix things between herself and Marie. 

She needed to get to her studio, get something pretty for Marie’s new dwelling; sure something materialistic may not right the wrongs of past slights but it was more than enough to show Marie that she would be supportive from now on. 

If ya can’t beat’em, join’em. 

If pretty bobbles didn’t satisfy the Mississippi belle, well then Rose could only hope a hot breakfast and a lot of ass-kissin’ would. 

Ah’m sure this’ll amuse the shit outta Remy.

Authors Note:

In case anyone was wondering.  The picture of the house at the top of the page is Rosalie's.