t h e . t i e s . t h a t . b i n d

The Ties That Bind

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Bobby makes a friend who reminds Rogue of someone.

Notes: Takes place about 3 years after the movie -- I figure "the near future" for 2006, and Rogue was 16. Thanks to the usual suspects for the beta and the help with how this whole thing should work. Warning: Mary Sue. Also, ::shudder:: songfic.

Date: January 2001

You been hurt and you're all cried out you say
You walk down the street pushin' people outta your way
You packed your bags and all alone you wanna ride,
You don't want nothin', don't need no one by your side
You're walkin' tough, baby, but you're walkin' blind
To the ties that bind

***

The whole thing started with a CD. Someone had left it in Bobby Drake's stereo, and he had gotten hooked on the mix. It was more than just dance music - the deejay had combined some classics with the latest electronica for something that was both new and familiar.

He asked around, wanting to know who had made such a perfect soundtrack for his life. At first he got nowhere, since the guys he lived with couldn't be bothered to listen to any music released after 1994, even though they'd only been four years old at the time. "Kurt Cobain's suicide was the end of rock and roll, man," according to his roommate, Chris.

But he was a popular guy at NYU - good-looking, funny, always up for a party. No one knew he was a mutant, and he planned to keep it that way. He was working his way slowly through the female population, and it was from one of them that he learned that DJ Seal was behind his CD obsession.

"Yeah, DJ Seal works Thursday nights at Asia, over on Avenue B. She's a student here, you know," said Phyllis, one of the numerous girls in his Introduction to Psychology class who offered to take him out dancing so he could hear the mix live.

So there he was on Thursday night, dressed in a cobalt blue shirt (a birthday gift from Kitty -- "It brings out your eyes," she'd said. They'd been dating at the time.), black jeans and a black leather jacket. If there was one thing he'd learned at Xavier's School (and his teachers might have disputed that he'd learned anything), it was that chicks dig guys in leather. Look at the way the girls swooned over Logan and Scott.

The music was just as good in person; right now the hottest techno act was segueing into -- Chris would be thrilled -- Nirvana's "Come As You Are."

He danced with the girls in the group, but his eyes wandered, looking for the deejay. He asked one of them, who said, "Oh, the deejay booth is up those stairs," and she pointed to a nearly hidden spiral metal stairway at the front of the dance floor. He squinted through the strobe lights and the haze, trying to catch a glimpse of the person behind the smoked glass, but could see nothing.

After a couple of shots of Jaegermeister and some beer, he decided he was going to meet his new hero. He smoothed down his blonde hair and walked purposefully up the stairs and, even with the alcohol-derived courage, he was nervous. His hands - normally cold - were sweaty. As he reached the top step, the door to the booth was flung open, and Bobby was a goner.

He hadn't been expecting a woman. That made him more nervous.

She wasn't beautiful really, he thought. She had an attractive face -- high, wide cheekbones gave her a severity softened by large eyes and full lips. A chestnut brown braid the thickness of his wrist hung almost to her waist. She wore a white tank top and blue jeans, which showed off a fit, trim figure. When he stood next to her, he felt tall -- he could probably rest his chin on the top of her head.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Bobby Drake," he managed, wiping his hand on his pants and holding it out. She quirked an eyebrow, but shook it.

"Well, shut the door, Bobby Drake," she snapped. "It's too damn loud." He did as she asked and the music was suddenly muffled, the crowd very far away.

"I'm a big fan of your work," he started, but she held up a hand, moved the headphones around her neck to her ears, and did something at one of the panels in front of her. A new song came on.

"Meat Beat Manifesto," she said. "Great song."

"Um, I don't know it," he said, feeling ignorant.

"It came out before you were born, little boy." He bristled and she grinned. "It came out before I was born, too." She motioned for him to sit in one of the chairs. "I'm Ciel. So you're a fan, eh?"

"This CD," he pulled it from the inside pocket of his jacket, "never leaves my stereo. It's, like, the soundtrack to my life."

She looked at it curiously. "What's on it?"

"Zeppelin, Moby, U2, everything," he enthused.

An odd look, anger maybe, crossed her face. "Where'd you get it? I made that for my bastard ex-boyfriend a long time ago."

He shrugged. "Someone left it in my stereo after a party."

She smiled. "I'd rather you have it than him."

He noticed she was kind of mood-swingy. "You're kind of mood-swingy," he said.

She laughed. "You don't say? How much have you had to drink, Bobby Drake? Are you up here on a dare?"

"No, no. I love this cd so much, I had to come and meet you. I didn't know you were a girl." Stupid, he thought. Just blow any shot you've got. "So why DJ Seal? What's your real name?"

"Ciel is my real name, chief. C-I-E-L, like heaven in Latin, not seal, the cuddly animal that balances beach balls on its nose. Short for Cecilia." He opened his mouth to speak and she said, "Don't even. If I had a nickel every time someone sang to me, I'd be rich."

He was lost. "Huh?"

"Oh, okay, go ahead, then. I thought you were going to sing to me." He decided he was going to have to find out what the song was when he got home.

"I just wanted to know if I could buy you a drink."

The smile returned. "Oh, let me buy you a drink, Bobby. I drink for free here. That way, they can justify paying me less than the other deejays. Just to warn you, though, I'm not a cheap date."

He stayed with her up in the deejay booth for the rest of the night, and it became a weekly thing. Nothing ever happened, and they settled into a comfortable friendship.

***

The phone rang. Cecilia rolled out of bed to answer it. "What?"

"It's me," Bobby said. "Some of my friends are visiting and I want them to meet you. Are you working tonight?"

"It's Friday? Yeah, I'm playing at the DKE party - they rented out a bar on West 3rd." She gave him the address. "How many? I'll put you on the guest list."

"Five, including me."

"See you there."

"Ciel's cool. She's deejaying at this party tonight. I want all of you to meet her." His gaze wandered over the others assembled in his dorm room: Rogue, Kitty, Jubilee, and John. It was like old-home week for mutants.

"Another one of your hopeless crushes?" Jubilee asked, cracking her gum.

"I'm wearing her down," he said, refusing to rise to the bait. "She's a couple years older than me, and she thinks it's a big deal. I told her age doesn't matter--" He was interrupted by Rogue, who appeared to be choking on her soda. "Well, it doesn't, if it's only two or three years. We're not talking decades, here, Rogue."

"Sauce for the goose," she replied tartly.

He rolled his eyes. He didn't want to discuss her on-again-off-again, not-quite relationship with Logan. It was too weird. It had broken his heart when he was sixteen, and occasionally, he still thought he and Rogue would be good together, but it was past and it was going to stay that way.

"Whatever. We're going to party tonight."

***

They got into the party without a hitch, and without having to pay. John headed straight for the bar, Rogue on his heels. She was going to school up in Westchester, and hadn't been to any of the parties that went on regularly, since she had made few friends (being the shy, quiet girl with the gloves gave her a reputation for mystery on campus, and a certain cachet among the male population, of which she was unaware) and she was generally uncomfortable in large crowds for a number of reasons.

But Bobby wanted to show them how well he was adapting outside the confines of Xavier's, and they were all ripe for a good time. And they had one.

At the end of the evening, Bobby led them to the deejay booth. As always, the door swung open before he got there. "Ciel!"

"Bobby!" she mocked him.

"How do you always know it's me?"

She shrugged. She looked the little group over, her eyes falling on Rogue's gloves. "You must be Rogue. I've heard quite a bit about you." She held out a hand as the southerner blushed.

"Nice to meet you. Bobby talks about you endlessly."

"I think Bobby just talks endlessly," she replied, smiling.

"Hey! I resemble that remark," he complained good-naturedly. He introduced the others as well. "I was thinking we could go to the Slaughtered Lamb or to Jeckyll & Hyde's or something," he said.

"Automatic Slims," Ciel replied. "It's the best bar ever."

So they piled into John's car and went to Slims, where they listened to some soul music from the '70s. "Don't hear this stuff much anymore," Ciel said.

"That's 'cause it's old," Jubilee replied.

"Sometimes the old stuff is the best," the older girl replied. "Al Green, Barry White, Thelma Houston -- you know when they play 'Mr. Big Stuff' we're all getting on the bar and dancing, right?"

"I don't think so," Kitty said, but she was overruled. She leaned over to Rogue, "I have to pee."

They made their way through the crowd, down the stairs to the restrooms. There was, of course, a line. "You've been awful quiet tonight, Rogue."

"Huh? Oh. Does Ciel remind you of someone? I swear I've seen her, but I can't place her face."

Kitty shrugged. "Not that I can think of. She's not Bobby's usual type, though."

"Does Bobby have a usual type?"

"Yeah," Kitty said, "us." They both giggled.

When they came back, there were shot glasses lined up on the bar.

"Oh, no," Kitty said, "I've had enough."

At the same time, Rogue slapped a hand down and yelled, "Wild Turkey!"

Ciel grinned at her. "Wild Turkey it is, Rogue." The bartender poured out bourbon for everyone.

John, who was gaining a reputation at Stony Brook as a heavyweight drinker, smiled at Ciel. "You want another?"

Her answering grin was wicked. "Line 'em up, little boy."

She went shot for shot with him until he was standing on the corner, puking his guts out into an orange mesh garbage can. She stood watching him, sipping a cup of water. "You all right?"

He looked at her, bleary-eyed. The others stood around, concern evident on their faces.

"You might wanna rinse your shoes off," she said, glancing pointedly at them.

"Eww, gross," Jubilee squealed. John stumped back into the bar, aided by Bobby, so he could wash the vomit off his shoes.

"How are we going to get home?" Kitty said. "None of us are able to drive."

"I can drive," Ciel said confidently. "Not a problem. Where are you all going?"

Kitty was skeptical. "You drank as much as John did. I don't see how you can be all right."

"Advil and water," the other woman said, smiling mysteriously into her cup. "And John had a head start."

"Can't we just stay at your apartment?" Bobby asked.

"My place is barely big enough for one, let alone six. And my roommate would have a fit. She's a bitch to begin with, and if I bring home extra people, she'll never shut up. So, I can drive. Where am I driving to?"

"Westchester," Rogue said mournfully. "We're going to be so hung over tomorrow."

"Advil and water," Ciel repeated. "And a bagel. I'm never hung over." She looked at the little group standing on the corner. "Westchester, huh?" They nodded. "You, too, Bobby?"

"I guess."

"Scott's going to kill us," Kitty moaned.

"Scott?" Ciel asked Bobby.

"He's, he's--" Bobby stuttered, unable to explain about the X-Men, or even the school, really.

"He's like the second-in-command at the school where we live," Rogue offered. "He's really strict and since we're all underage..." she trailed off and Jubilee drew her finger across her throat.

They walked to where John had parked the car and piled in. "So you all live at a school? Like an orphanage? Boarding school? What?"

Kitty and Bobby answered at the same time. "It's a school for -- mutants," she said. "Gifted children," he said.

"Okay," she muttered, letting the mutant comment slide. She had her own secrets. Bobby sighed, thinking she hadn't heard. She looked at John in the rearview mirror. "Hey, buddy. Johnny!" she snapped.

His head lolled and he blinked sleepily. "Wha?"

"If you puke while I'm driving, I will kill you." She turned to Rogue, who was next to John -- Jubilee was on his lap. "Let him hang his head out the window." Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look. The smell'll make me sick and then we'll all be stuck somewhere between here and -- where the hell am I taking you people?"

"Salem Center," Rogue answered. "Fourteen oh seven Greymalkin Lane."

"You can give me directions?"

"I can," Bobby said, sitting up straighter in the front seat.

Ciel drove fast, but well. John only needed to stop once, alongside the Saw Mill River Parkway, so he could get out and throw up. He felt much better afterward.

They only hitch they ran into was upon exiting the parkway. "Shit," Ciel muttered as she saw the flashing lights. "DWI roadblock."

The kids all exchanged worried glances. They most certainly had been drinking, Ciel more than most of them, though her driving didn't seem at all impaired.

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, stopping as she reached the head of the line.

The officer leaned into the window. "How you kids doin' tonight?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

"We're all good, officer," Bobby began. "How are you?"

Ciel shot him a dark look. "You need my license and registration, officer?"

The cop nodded and she handed over her license; she took the piece of paper Bobby handed her and passed that along, too.

"Powell, Cecilia L.," he murmured. "And how do you come to be driving a car registered to Charles Xavier, Miss Powell?"

"We're all former students at Xavier's School," she said without batting an eye, "and he lent us the car to go out tonight, since it's been ages since we've seen each other."

"Miss Powell, would you please step out of the car."

She sighed, undid her seatbelt, and climbed out. "I suppose you want me touch my finger to my nose," she grumbled, stretching her arms out and doing as she said. The cop looked at her suspiciously.

"Please come over here and walk a straight line, Miss Powell." She did as he asked without faltering. "You reek of alcohol," he said finally.

"Johnny spilled beer all over me," she lied. "I'm the designated driver. I stopped after one beer. That was over four hours ago." She knew she was volunteering more information than necessary, but she was nervous. She didn't know how these kids were going to react, how their "teacher" would react if they all got tossed in jail, and how she'd get out if that happened. She didn't have anyone to call for bail money.

The policeman still looked skeptical, but he handed her back the license and registration and said, "Be careful."

She got back in the car and smiled. "Yes, sir." She drove off, muttering curses under her breath.

"God, that was close," Kitty muttered to Rogue, who was staring at Ciel, lost in thought. Kitty nudged her, "Rogue, did you hear me?"

"What? Oh yeah, Kitkat, too close for comfort," she replied absently.

Kitty shrugged and leaned back.

It was only a few minutes to the mansion from there, and they arrived in no time. "Well, kids, it's been fun," Ciel said, "but I've had just about all the excitement I can take tonight." Then a realization struck her. "If this car belongs here, how the hell am I getting home?"

The others looked at each other wearily, too tired or drunk to think. "Um, you can stay in our room tonight, and I'll drive you to the train station in the morning," Rogue offered as they all got out of the car.

Ciel sighed. "I suppose that'll do. Someone can lend me something to sleep in?"

"You can sleep with me, Ciel," Bobby said. The others snickered.

"Thanks, but I don't think having you pass out on me is the way I want this night to end," she replied.

He looked offended. "I'm not gonna pass out. I'm at my peak, sexually," he began, and then he realized what he was saying, and how loud he was saying it, when the front door opened and Scott stood there. He blushed red and shut up.

"What's going on?" Scott asked, walking out to where they all stood in the driveway.

"Mr. Summers -- Scott -- this is my friend Ciel from school," Bobby muttered. "She drove us home tonight because Johnny got a little, er, drunk."

She smiled and held a hand out. "Nice to meet you," she said. "It's all right if I sleep here tonight and head out in the morning, right?" He nodded, taken slightly aback. "Thanks." They all headed into the house.

"Our room is this way," Rogue murmured, heading up the stairs.

Ciel followed behind the other three girls, calling out just before she was out of sight, "Oh, and nice shades."

"Ciel!" Kitty whispered.

"What? They're really cool. Though I think it'd be kinda hard to see, with it being night and all."

Rogue looked at her when they entered the bedroom. "Why don't we cut to the chase," she said. "We're mutants and you know it."

Ciel shrugged. "Yeah. No biggie. Everybody's got something that makes them different, right?"

"What makes you different, Ciel?" Rogue asked.

The other girl shrugged again. It seemed to be her signature gesture. "My impeccable taste in music?" she answered flippantly. "I'm dead tired, folks. Driving up here after drinking as much as I did was not as easy as it looks, and I need to sleep or I'm going to collapse. Is this the bathroom?" she asked, walking in and turning the light on. She closed the door.

"Sure you are," Rogue muttered.

"What was that?" Ciel asked sharply, poking her head out.

"Nothing."

Ciel washed her face and brushed her teeth, with a toothbrush pulled from her backpack. "Where do you want me?" she asked when she was done.

Kitty and Jubilee were already sprawled out asleep on their beds, still fully clothed. Rogue sat on her bed in pajamas and gloves, and pointed to a sleeping bag unrolled on the floor. Ciel slid into it and said, "Good night." She was asleep almost immediately. Rogue sat watching her thoughtfully, before she too climbed into bed and slept.

***

The next morning, Scott thanked Ciel for driving the kids home as he took her and Bobby to the train station to catch Metro North back into the city. She thanked him again for allowing her to spend the night and he thought it was nice that Bobby had made such a polite friend.

Bobby cradled his head in his hands and flinched at every loud noise and bright light, while Ciel laughed. "Oh sure, laugh at my misery. How come you're not hung over? You drank way more than me."

"I told you, I don't get hung over. I've got the constitution of a horse." There's a flattering comparison, she thought. Oh well, you never liked him that way anyway. He grumbled and she decided to change the subject. "I like your friends. Especially Rogue. She seems cool."

"She is," he said. "You just like her because she likes Wild Turkey as much as you do."

Ciel shrugged. "You gotta take friends where you find 'em. So how come you and she aren't together. I can tell you really dig her." She looked down at her shoelaces.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm so over her," he began, "and anyway, she's got a thing for Logan. Even though he still treats her like a kid." He didn't notice the way her head snapped up when he said Logan's name.

"Who's he? A teacher, like that Scott guy? 'Cause he's a cutie."

"Sort of. And you think Scott's cute? Oh man. He's married, you know."

"Oh well. The good ones always are," she replied airily. He went on a long tirade about girls who only wanted bad boys or married men and how they always just wanted to be friends with the good ones. She let him rant, glad he hadn't noticed her strange reaction.

***

You don't want nothin' that anybody can touch
You're so afraid of being somebody's fool
Not walkin' tough baby, not walkin' cool
You walk cool, but darlin', can you walk the line
And face the ties that bind

***

Over the next few months, Ciel and Bobby invited Rogue to hang out more and more, though he'd since moved on from his infatuation with Ciel and started dating one of the girls in his American History class.

One day, Ciel invited Rogue to go shopping. "We never get together without Bobby. I adore Bobby, but listening once again to how great Karen is would drive me around the bend," she confided.

Rogue laughed. "You could have had him, but you didn't want him."

"I've got relationship issues," she replied.

"Don't we all," Rogue said, sighing.

"Well, you can tell me all about it at Bloomie's."

They met up at Bloomingdale's and spent a day shopping and laughing a lot. They decided to take in a movie, and since they had time to kill, Ciel suggested a trip to the Gypsy Tea Kettle, a tarot-reading place.

"I don't know, Ciel. It's a little creepy, no?"

"You live in a house with two telepaths, a guy who can't take his glasses off, and a guy who's covered in blue fur, Rogue." Ciel apparently had no problems with mutants whatsoever. Rogue strongly suspected the girl was a mutant herself, but Ciel had never volunteered any information, and she hadn't felt comfortable asking. Rogue harbored other suspicions as well. Ciel was still talking. "A tarot reading is so far from creepy that I can't believe you're not gonna do it."

Rogue sighed. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. You pay fifteen bucks, they let you shuffle the cards, they ask you a bunch of questions and tell you stuff that could apply to anyone."

"If you don't believe in it, why do you want to do it?"

Ciel shrugged. "It's fun. And we've got time to kill. You got a better idea?"

Shortly after, Rogue found herself sitting in a dingy room on the second floor of a building overlooking Lexington Avenue.

The woman who read her cards had a thick Russian accent. Rogue sat at the little table and tried not to look startled when the woman handed her the cards. "Shuffle," she said, tapping the deck. "Think about what you want to know." Rogue shuffled and thought about Logan. Lately she hadn't seen much of him. There'd been a spate of anti-mutant activity recently, and he, Scott and Ororo spent a lot of time flying around, rescuing the persecuted. There were more new students at the school than Rogue had ever seen in her three years there.

"There's a man, yes?" the fortune-teller asked, breaking into Rogue's thoughts.

At the next table, Ciel snorted. "There's always a man," she muttered. Rogue and both fortune-tellers glared at her. "Sorry," she said with a smirk that indicated she wasn't sorry at all.

After their fifteen minutes were up, including the obligatory suggestion that they return soon for a more in-depth -- "More expensive," Ciel whispered -- reading.

They still had about an hour to kill before the seven pm show, so they went to grab a bite to eat at a nearby coffee shop. Ciel was in rare form, snarking at everyone and everything. Rogue wondered what the fortune-teller had told her.

"I want a cheeseburger deluxe," Ciel said, "and I want it rare. And a vanilla shake."

"Hon, you know we're not allowed to serve rare hamburgers. E. coli--"

"I'll worry about my damn digestive tract," Ciel snapped. "You just make sure my burger is bloody, okay?"

The waitress rolled her eyes and turned to Rogue. "Grilled chicken Caesar salad, please," she said demurely.

"That's it? That's all you're gonna eat?" Ciel was still annoyed. She fidgeted in her seat and played with the salt and pepper shakers. Then, "Sorry. You eat whatever you want. I'll be quiet."

Rogue laughed. The other girl's moods changed so rapidly sometimes, you could never be sure what kind of response you'd get. She indicated her gloves. "Best not to eat anything too messy in public."

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot about the deadly skin thing." She shifted again. "So tell me about this man you're gonna meet. Is he tall, dark and handsome?" she teased. "Will he take you away and make you his wife?"

Rogue blushed. "I, he, it's complicated. He's a lot older than I am. He almost died to save my life. Twice." Her eyes were wide and dreamy. "She said he'd cause me great pain, but eventually he would bring me great joy. That there's a time for everything and we'll have ours someday."

"You think she'd come up with some original material. 'Joy and pain, sunshine and rain,'" Ciel sang softly. "And also, 'to everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn, and a time to every purpose under heaven.'" Then she rolled her eyes. "Generic bullshit. She told me I had to let go of my anger and open my heart. Embrace the past because without it, there is no future."

She stopped as the waitress placed their food on the table. "Thanks," she said sweetly, her earlier snit forgotten. "Anyway," she continued as the woman walked away, "I'm twenty-two years old. As sad as it is to say, I don't exactly have a dark and mysterious past, you know?"

"Are you from here?" Rogue asked.

"New York? No, not originally." She leaned in close and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm --" she paused dramatically and Rogue wondered if she was finally going to reveal her mutation, "Canadian." She sat back, looking smug. "Shocking, ain't it? Not from bumfuck or Moosejaw or anything. I was born in Vancouver, then my mom moved to Seattle for work, and then we came here when I was about one. I don't remember living anywhere else. I've got citizenship and everything. But I've got grandparents up north to prove it." She fell silent, eating her fries contemplatively.

"So what else did she tell you?" Rogue pressed. "Any tall, dark and handsome strangers in your future?"

Ciel shrugged a shoulder. "Nah. She said family is our greatest strength and that a man from my past will reappear." She took a bite of her burger and chewed savagely. "But except for my grandparents, I don't have any family. Well," she revised, "I have an aunt and uncle out on Long Island, who I lived with after my parents died, but we had a falling out. I suppose I should make it up with them. But they're not technically blood relatives."

"How's that?"

"Oh, my dad's sister and her husband. My parents didn't meet and get married 'til after I was born."

"So you never knew your real father?"

"Sean Powell was my real father." The anger in her voice shocked Rogue. "The bastard who knocked my mom up was nothing more than a sperm donor. He got her pregnant, went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. A turkey baster could have done the job." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her lips moved silently and Rogue guessed she was counting to ten. "Sorry. I've got a bit of a temper. Never quite finished the anger management classes." She crossed and recrossed her legs, then, "You're from down south, right?"

Rogue nodded, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "Yeah. I ran when my mutation kicked in. To Canada, strangely enough. I put the first boy I ever kissed into a coma for three weeks."

"Shit."

Rogue smiled sadly. "Tell me about it. But he's alive and I found a place to live. I still miss my mom and dad sometimes. They were just scared, I think."

"You're more forgiving than I am," Ciel said, stating the obvious.

"So if you had a chance to meet your biological father, would you take it?" Rogue appeared to be asking idly, but Ciel could sense her tension.

She was vehement. "No. Why bother? Screw him. That's what he did to us."

"But what if something bad happened, like he was kidnapped or something?" Rogue insisted. "What if he didn't really want to leave?"

"What is this, X-Files? He was abducted by aliens and experimented on?" Ciel snorted. "Rogue, please. The only thing knowing who he is would do for me would be to eliminate him as a dating prospect. I want nothing to do with the man, and he clearly wants nothing to do with me, or he wouldn't have let twenty-two years pass without a word."

They were silent for a few minutes, but Rogue couldn't leave it alone. "What does the L. stand for?"

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "You're awfully curious today, Rogue. What's going on?" She had her own ideas where this was leading, but she wasn't going to volunteer any information. Her family history -- or lack thereof, on her father's side -- was nobody's damn business.

"Nothing. You just, you never talk about yourself."

"There's really nothing to tell. The L. is for 'Loser'." It was Rogue's turn to raise an eyebrow, and Ciel grimaced. "The sperm donor's name. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Rogue decided she had pushed enough, but her suspicions were confirmed, in her own mind at least. Cecilia Powell was Logan's daughter. She was sure of it.

She said something to Kitty, who was home for Spring Break, a few days later. "Remember when we first met Ciel, I thought she looked familiar?" she asked.

Kitty rolled over and opened an eye. "I don't remember much from that night, Rogue, except I will never ever drink Wild Turkey again. My whole face was numb, and I phased through the toilet seat when I went to pee."

Rogue giggled. "You never told me that!"

"Too embarrassing. So who does she remind you of?"

"Logan."

It was Kitty's turn to laugh. "She reminds you of Logan? I swear to God, Rogue, next you're going to be telling me Ororo's cat reminds you of Logan."

"No, seriously, think about it. Bobby says she always knows when it's him at her door, before she opens it. And she drank way more than any of us that night, and since then we've gone out, and I've seen her drink enough to floor almost anyone, and yet she's still standing -- still able to drive -- afterwards. Who else do we know who can drink like that? And she told me she was born in Vancouver."

"So? Millions of people are born in Vancouver, Rogue. It's a big city."

"A big Canadian city. In the northwest. That's where I met Logan. That's where he woke up after the experiment. She's from there. Her biological father went out for cigarettes one night and never came back!" Rogue felt a little guilty revealing Ceil's secrets, but the girl hadn't made her promise not to tell. "And last but not least," Rogue played her trump card, "her middle initial is 'L.' She wouldn't tell me what it's for, just that it's his name. How much do you want to bet she's Cecilia Logan Powell?"

Kitty was still skeptical. "That could be anything, Rogue. Louis or Lawrence or Latrell. I think you're jumping to conclusions. So she's got a hard head. Maybe she wasn't really drinking as much as we thought." Rogue snorted, and Kitty softened. "Why don't you invite her here, get them together and see what happens?"

Suddenly Rogue backed off. "I don't know," she said uncomfortably. "It's a little weird."

"Well, when you decide what to do, let me know. If nothing else, it should be interesting watching them drink together."

***

Rogue thought about Kitty's suggestion and almost went to Jean to discuss it, but she felt bad about revealing Ciel's secrets to Kitty. She didn't want to bring anyone else into it. She decided to talk to Logan instead.

She went to his room a few nights later. "You busy?" she asked when he opened the door.

He shrugged. "Not really. What's up?"

She walked around the room before settling on the bed. He sat next to her, their legs stretched out, pressed together. She brushed nonexistent lint off her gloves and kicked her shoes off. He went back to his book. If she wanted to talk, she'd let him know.

"You ever wonder if you have kids somewhere?" she asked.

His head shot up. "What?" She repeated the question. "Not anymore. My life is here now." With you. The words hung unspoken between them. But that wasn't what she wanted to know.

"But what if you did?"

"What ifs don't mean jack shit, Marie. You know that. You can waste your whole damn life torturin' yourself with 'what if' and I ain't gonna do it anymore."

She rested her head on his shoulder. That didn't sound promising. She sighed. Maybe Kitty was right. She'd have to get them in a room together and see what happened. Maybe Logan would remember something. Maybe Ciel had something that had belonged to him, or a picture of him, or, or... the possibilities were endless. He gave her a searching look, knowing she was up to something, but not quite sure what. She dropped the subject and he tried to forget she'd ever brought it up.

***

You sit and wonder just who's gonna stop the rain
Who'll ease the sadness, who's gonna quiet the pain
It's a long dark highway and a thin white line
Connecting baby, your heart to mine
We're runnin' now but darlin' we will stand in time
To face the ties that bind

***

Eventually, spring turned to summer and Rogue didn't have to set her plan in motion. Bobby did it for her. He invited Ciel up to the mansion for a weekend of swimming and barbecuing. She hugged the girls and John nodded at her, still embarrassed, until she chucked him on the shoulder and laughed. She shook hands with Scott. Bobby introduced her to Jean, Ororo and Hank, who asked, sotto voce, if she were Bobby's new girlfriend, since Karen hadn't worked out. "I don't think so," she replied in the same soft tone. "At least, he hasn't asked me out since February." Bobby heard and blushed.

Xavier welcomed her and told her she didn't have to sleep in the room with Kitty, Rogue and Jubilee if she preferred a room of her own, since some of the students, those still in touch with their families, had gone home for the summer.

"Nah, it's cool. It's like slumber party or something," she replied. "But thanks."

The guys looked at each other, already forming diabolical plans, while the girls laughed and went off to change into their bathing suits.

Kitty wore a white bikini and Jubilee a yellow one, of course.

Rogue smiled as Ciel came out of the bathroom in a black two-piece with a tank top and bikini bottoms, wrapping a red and black batik-patterned pareo around her waist.

"You swim?" she asked, surprised, looking at Rogue in her black one-piece with the sheer material across the shoulders and midriff.

"No, but I sunbathe."

"Coulda fooled me," Ciel replied. "If I hadn't just seen you in the sun, I'd have sworn you were a vampire."

Rogue laughed and picked an old terry cloth robe that had seen better days.

"Here," Ciel said, pulling the cover-up off her own waist and moving in to wrap it around the other girl. Rogue flinched back and Ciel said, "Take it easy. I'll be careful." She tied it like a sarong, then stood back and admired her handiwork. "Perfect. Much nicer than that ratty old thing."

Rogue whirled and looked in the mirror. "It does look nice, doesn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "Do you need flip-flops or something, Ciel?

"No. I hate wearing shoes. Why am I going to put on shoes at the one place I'm *supposed* to walk around barefoot?" And she was barefoot, toenails painted gunmetal gray.

"That's an interesting color choice," Kitty said.

"Usually they're black," Rogue piped up. "But she went light for summer."

Laughing, they made their way downstairs, stopping off in the kitchen for a pitcher of iced tea and some cups.

"Damn, Scott forgot to buy paper cups again," Jubilee muttered. "Glasses it is." And they each took a tall, slim glass out to the pool.

Rogue sat in a lounge, her pale, lethal skin covered by the sheer material of Ciel's pareo. Everyone else sat far enough away that accidental touches were unlikely, but still close enough to include her in the conversation.

Ciel climbed out of the pool and flopped into the chaise next to Rogue. "God that feels good," she said, sipping on her iced tea. Then her nostrils flared and her brow furrowed. Head cocked, she breathed deeply, an expression of puzzlement on her face.

Rogue didn't notice. She was too busy staring at Logan as he strutted to the pool, tight jeans and white t-shirt damp with sweat and clinging to his muscular body. He also had that searching look on his face, as if he'd caught a scent that was familiar, but couldn't place it.

"Logan!" she shouted, catching his attention and waving him over.

She heard the glass shatter and saw the bright red of Ciel's blood before the girl dropped the glass. Everyone stopped and looked.

"That's why there isn't supposed to be any glass by the pool," Kitty said.

Ciel swung her legs off the lounge carefully and leaned down to pick up the broken glass. "I've got it, not a problem," she said, her voice slightly shaky. "Everybody move along," she continued, gathering the shards into a napkin. "Show's over. Nothing to see here." She stood up, poised to flee when Rogue's gloved hand grabbed her arm.

"You got cut."

"No, I didn't."

"I saw the blood," Rogue insisted.

"And I can smell it," Logan said quietly, from behind Ciel. She jumped, startled. "Who the hell are you?" His face had the same puzzled expression she had worn a few minutes earlier. He took the napkin from her hand and opened her palm. There wasn't a mark on her. Her eyes darted rapidly as everyone gathered around, including the teachers who had been sitting in the shade of the patio.

Rogue looked from one to the other. "Logan, this is Cecilia."

"The resemblance is amazing," Jean breathed.

They both looked at her and then at each other. He knew her scent because it was his. She was his. His daughter? Was this what Rogue had been talking about? He fervently wished he could remember; he wished it more than he ever had before.

"'Cecilia, you're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence daily,'" he sang softly. "Do I know you?"

She blinked and tried to pull her hand out of his grip. "No," she said, her voice harsh. But she could tell, she could smell it on him; he was her father. It was a comforting smell, leather and motor oil and just him. She fought against the tears that flooded her eyes against her will. This was not happening. This was the dick who'd left her mother, three months pregnant, without a word.

With his other hand he traced the curve of her cheek. She jerked away from his touch. "Let me go, you bastard." Then suddenly, there were three bone claws extending from her knuckles and everyone gasped. He dropped her hand and she fled into the house.

***

Rogue didn't get back to her room as quickly as she'd have liked. Everyone had questions and though she wanted to walk away, she couldn't. Finally, they began quizzing Bobby and let her go. Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, the door flew open.

"You really are his kid," she drawled. Ciel was dressed and on her way out the door, backpack slung over her shoulder. "Always runnin' when things get tough." Ciel said nothing. Her jaw was set; she wouldn't look Rogue in the eye. "Don't you at least want your skirt back?" Rogue plucked at the fabric wrapped around her waist.

"Keep it," Ciel said tersely. "Would you mind getting out of my way?" she asked when Rogue didn't move from the doorway.

"Yes, I mind very much. What are you gonna do, hit me?"

Ciel's eyes narrowed in a way that was shockingly familiar, but she didn't move. "Never been much of a fighter," she answered. "Not since Sheila Simonetti knocked three of my teeth out in third grade."

Rogue blinked. "Don't tell Logan that. He'll teach you to fight if you want. That's what he does here -- teaches self-defense."

"I don't want anything from him, Rogue." There were tears in her voice.

"He's your father."

"No!" Ciel was emphatic. "We share some DNA. That's all."

"He doesn't remember," Rogue said desperately. "You know how you joked about the X-Files? Well, that's closer to the truth than you realize. He was kidnapped and experimented on. Those pretty bone claws you whipped out?" At that, Ciel put her hands behind her back. "His are covered in metal. It's bonded to his whole damn skeleton. He only remembers the past twenty years or so of his life. He didn't screw your momma over. He just didn't know."

"And you're in love with him." It wasn't a question.

"That's got nothing to do with you."

"Is he in love with you?" Her tone demanded an answer.

"I, I don't know. It doesn't matter, Ciel. Give him a chance. He's a good man, and he's your father."

"I already told you, I had a father. He died with my mother in a car accident seven years ago. I was fifteen. I walked away without a scratch. Do you understand what I'm telling you? I don't even want what I've already got from him." The claws popped out again. "Do you see this? Do you know how much it hurts, every time?"

"I do." Logan stood behind Rogue in the hallway. "Marie, can you give us a minute?"

She put a hand on his arm and walked away.

He looked at her, really looked at her. She had his eyes, and maybe his cheekbones. Definitely his temper, and, apparently, the claws.

He unsheathed his and she gasped. "I didn't know they were natural," he said, "until just now."

She reached out a hand and grabbed his wrist, turning it so she could look more closely at the metal. She ran a finger along the sharp edge and he didn't stop her. He knew she would heal up quick. "Somebody did this to you?"

He let out a snort. "You don't think I asked for it, do ya, darlin'?"

"Don't call me that."

"I call everybody that. It don't mean nothin', Cecilia." He laughed. "I always did love that damn song. Never could understand why."

"Well, that's nice, but I've got to get going." She didn't want to know him, didn't want to give up the anger. He understood and moved out of her way.

When she was halfway down the hall he said, "I don't remember, but I wish I did. It's all so hazy." He began to sing hoarsely, " 'Well, now I'm no hero, that's understood. But what redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood,'" she stopped and turned as he continued, "'with a chance to make it good somehow. Well, what else can we do now but say, roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair.'" She was crying and singing softly with him, "'The night's busted open; these two lanes will take us anywhere. We got one last chance to make it real, to trade in these wings on some wheels, climb in back, heaven's waiting down on the track.'"

"My mother said you always used to sing that to her."

He shrugged. "I'm sorry. I don't remember. Just, something about your face, your scent, it makes me think of 'Thunder Road.' Can't beat the Boss." He walked to her and awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder. This was the real deal, and he didn't want to screw it up. They sat down on the steps together.

"I don't expect, I'm not-- shit," he said. "I don't know what I want to say. I understand to you I'm just some asshole who screwed over your mother. And maybe that's all I'll ever be. But I think I'd like to get to know you. I mean, damn, you're my daughter." He let out a long low whistle. "I have a daughter." She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and he sniffed a little himself. "And you're in college?"

"Grad school."

Another whistle. "Smart girl. Must take after your mother."

"That's what she always said."

He laughed. "What're you studyin'?"

"Forensics. Gonna be a crime scene investigator. Make these damn senses you stuck me with useful."

"Marie says you deejay."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"No." Pause. "Would it bother you if she were?"

"No." Then, "Maybe. She's almost three years younger than I am. Weird."

"You ain't even scratched the surface of weird, here at geek heaven," he replied, getting up and cracking his neck.

"Precious moment over, huh?"

"Let's leave that crap for the women, okay?" he said.

"I am a woman."

"Oh yeah. I forgot. You're not all girly. Do you like hockey?"

"Rangers fan from way back."

"They're never gonna win another Cup. You know that, right?"

"They have just as much a shot as anyone. It ain't like Pittsburgh's so tough this year..."

They walked down the hall together, chatting. He might not remember, and she might still be angry, but there was an undeniable bond between them already.

It was a start.

***

Now you can't break the ties that bind
You can't forsake the ties that bind

***

End

One last note: Just so's ya know -- I don't approve of the whole bone claws business. I think it's a stupid retcon and I don't even read the comics. But it adds drama, so I used it.

The Ties That Bind - Bruce Springsteen

You been hurt and you're all cried out you say
You walk down the street pushin' people outta your way
You packed your bags and all alone you wanna ride,
You don't want nothin', don't need no one by your side
You're walkin' tough baby, but you're walkin' blind
to the ties that bind

The ties that bind
Now you can't break the ties that bind

Cheap romance, it's all just a crutch
You don't want nothin' that anybody can touch
You're so afraid of being somebody's fool
Not walkin' tough baby, not walkin' cool
You walk cool, but darlin', can you walk the line
And face the ties that bind
The ties that bind
Now you can't break the ties that bind

I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darlin',
Than know the emptiness your heart must hide,
Yes I would darlin', yes I would darlin',
Yes I would baby

~*~

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Back to Main Stories Index

~*~

Disclaimers: Marvel & Fox own all recognizable X-Men characters. I own Ciel, but I don't think she's worth any money. Automatic Slims, Jeckyll & Hyde's, the Slaughtered Lamb and the Gypsy Tea Kettle are all real places and all belong to their respective owners. The songs "The Ties That Bind" and "Thunder Road" belong to Bruce Springsteen. "Turn Turn Turn" belongs to the Byrds [who stole it from Ecclesiastes] and "Joy & Pain" belongs to Rob Base and EZ Rock, I think. Someone who's not me, anyway. "Cecilia" belongs to Paul Simon and possibly Art Garfunkel, too.