Summary: A single act brings hurt and grief.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men

Auhtor's Note: I know it seems like a lifetime since I updated. However, circumstances arose and just became distracted not to mention I had writer's block. I didn't know where to go with this. I sort of do now, but I'd love any suggestions you can give me. By the way, thanks for all the lovely reviews and support.

Rating: T

BETRAYAL

Chapter 20

With the feeling of grogginess floating in her head, Rogue's eyes slowly peeled open when her fingers brushed a pillow devoid of a human head. Or should she say mutant head. Pressing up onto one elbow, head swimming like a swirling whirlpool, her hazel green eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness of the deluxe suite as she searched for her companion.

Where was Scott?

She soon located him.

He was standing in front of a large ceiling high window; dressed down in nothing more than a white t-shirt and grey sweat pants and he looked positively yummy. Her skin flushed with heated excitement and her eyes glowed hungrily. He was lean, cut with strong arms, powerful shoulders and a slim, sexy build that jolted her with waves of passion.

He looked depressed, as if something was gnawing him at the base of his skull; obviously the events of today still rattled him. It had started well. They spent their time seeing sights, and feeling the sounds beating deep within the city. Philadelphia was much like New York yet a deeper and more profound history.

Tag teaming with a group of tourist they came across, Scott and Rogue hitched onto a smiling elderly while gaining the ire of the guide (whom Scott kept continuously interrupting so as to inform said escort that his history facts were wrong). Rouge couldn't stop laughing hysterically. What did the guy except? Scott majored in history and was now teaching it at the school.

Then they went to the Liberty Bell center at the Independence National Historical Park. The day was bright and warm, perfect. From there they took a boat ride down the Schuylkill River gaining a majestic view of the city.

And as the day came to a close, they retired to one of the city's most illustrious hotels. The Four Seasons of Philadelphia. Why not? It was, after all, courtesy of Professor Xavier. Scott, in his pride, would not bank on her idea of crashing in some run-down Podunk at the edge of the city. This is Marie, he thought, smiling as her gloved fingers laced in his while he signed he hotel registry. She deserves the best.

She giggled when the Maître D gave them a questioning look. One too many glasses of wine had them stumbling a back to their suite at the top floor of the hotel. What started out as a sad attempt to hold up the other party, quickly turned into a hot and heavy kissing session in the elevator.

"You taste like fine wine," he murmured against her lips.

Laughter bubbled up from Rogue's chest, spilling giddily from her crimson lips. "We've been drinking wine silly."

"Then let me have another sip," he grinned coyly and took her mouth expertly. His hands knew no boundaries as they fiddled with the straps of the black satin dressed Rogue had purchased in a Versace store located in the hotel lobby. Shoving her flush against the wall of the elevator, he devoured her mouth and every inch of available skin, his mouth could land on.

They hadn't realized the lift had stopped when someone gasped out loudly.

Twisting away from each other, Rogue and Scott spied an elderly lady adorned in jewels and fur; a hand resting on her chest as a look of pure shock adorned her face. She had two poodles; both were yapping annoyingly at her feet. What appeared to be the remnants of her husband hobbled up behind her.

"Well, I never!" she cried.

Seizing Scott's hand, Rogue pulled him off the elevator, remarking snidely. "With all those jewels your hubby's got wrapped around your throat you better." The lady's eyes widened before darkening at the meaning. Scowling she watched the unscrupulous young couple weave and bob out of sight.

After several minutes of trying to get their room door open, the electronic key card a hassle, they slipped into the welcoming blackness. Lips locked, hands ripping at garments, they staggered backwards, falling luckily on the bed.

Rogue giggled with mirth then gasped the second Scott's tongue moved across the skin of her chest to capture the tip of a pert nipple. She melted into a puddle as his mouth closed over it. He sucked her gently, sweetly, ministering attention on one breast and then another, devouring her slowly. She flailed on the bed moaning, thrashing, her fingers digging into the silky locks, holding him in place.

Intimately, painstakingly, he crept up her lithe body, his warm mouth connecting with the smooth slope of her neck; his hips pressing into the hollow of her thighs. He captured an earlobe in his teeth nipping gently while clawing a free hand into Rogue's hair.

He moaned, exhaling out a name. "Jean."

Rogue froze in stark, raging horror. JEAN!

Although it was barely above a whisper, her name echoed inside her ear like a vibrating gong. Her arms snaked off his naked back; palms pressed to his chest, she shoved him forcibly off her. Scott toppled to floor, swearing. Rolling to her knees, she pulled her dress up over chest, glaring down at the man who'd had the nerve to utter his ex-fiancée name.

She pulled away from his embrace sharply.

Head swimming, Scott fought to make sense of what just happened. His eyes searched Rogue's face in the darkness, but shadows hid the pain and anger he could hear in her voice. There was the thudding of footsteps and the slamming of what could only be the bathroom door.

"Damn it," Scott hissed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He staggered to his feet, stomach roiling in the effort. He went to the bathroom, knocking on the door. "Rogue?"

He took her silence as reply and sulked over to the bar for another glass of bourbon. It was a long time before she came out. Silently, she filled back to bed and slid under covers. They didn't say anything, even when he finally climbed in. In the morning, they seemed to carry out their day as though nothing happened. Watching him, now, in the obscure quiet of their room she eased into a sit drawing the downy comfort up under her chin. "What's the matter?"

He turned suddenly at the soft utterance of her voice. It was so quiet in the room that for a moment, he had forgotten she was there. "Nothing."

Her lips drooped into a frown as her fingers clawed through the messy tangles of her hair. "Nothing… really?" she coiled a silvery white lock about her finger; complements of Magneto and his attempt to bestow all his powers into her when he had kidnapped and taken her to Liberty Island a while back.

"Are you worried about last night?" she released a sigh, shaking her head. "It's no big deal Scott. I can take a hint."

"No. It's not—" He turned stepping away from the window. He was now shrouded in darkness. Rogue could only see a dark outline of the man she was (oh damn it all to hell) slowly falling in love with.

"You're still in love with Jean. I get it."

Scott became offensive. "I DON'T love Jean. Not after what's she's done to me…to us…" His gaze fell away, darkening even more in the surrounding blackness. "I… I didn't mean to say her name."

Rogue lowered her eyes; a great measure of embarrassment flaming her cheeks. "Perhaps it was for the best," she strummed her fingers through her hair. "We were moving a bit too fast. Too much wine I think. Only a few days ago I was chewing your head off, vowing never to speak to you again."

Chuckling, Scott sank into the bed next to her. He took her hand messaging the tips gently. It was strange he finally touch her without deathly pull that was certain to drain him of every drop of his life. Meeting her eyes, the depth glowing, he leaned forward and kissed her gently.

"So what's next on the agenda?"

"Well," she began her face warm from the kiss. "I think we should head to that hospital down in Louisiana. Try and track down my birth parents."

"Are you certain?" Scott asked. "I mean they abandoned at their earliest convenience just like your adopted parents."

"I wasn't a mutant when I was born Scott. They didn't know like Mom and Dad did."

Mom and Dad.

Even now, it was difficult to think of how they kicked her out their lives. Her parents, the people who'd cared for all her life, had been unable to look at her that day. Her father shoved two hundred dollars into her pocket and bus ticket north. They didn't even pack a proper bag when they slammed the door in her face. A tightness squeezed her throat and tears burned beneath her lashes.

"I need to do this. I need to know who I am."

Scott's hand became firm around her fingers. "I know who you are. So does the Professor, your friends and…"

"Logan?"

"Hmm…yeah."

Rogue laughed.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yeah."

He huffed, shoulders dropping. "Alright. Just don't get upset when the trail goes cold."

"I won't," she said and inched close to kiss him on the lips.

They were deep into each other when a knock came unexpectedly at their door. Scott jerked up, a frown on his handsome face. "Who could that be at this time of night?"

"I don't know," answered Rogue. "Did you order room service?"

"No." He went to the door and peered through the peephole. Behind the tiny glass, there was beautiful blonde-haired woman dressed in one of the hotel uniform hold a large chalice bearing a bottle of wine. Scott opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Yes sir. I have here complementary champagne for the newlyweds," she beamed cheerily.

"Sorry," said Scott. "You must have the wrong room. We are not married."

"Oh, I think I have the right room," the woman replied and as quick lightening did a huge summersault, knocking Scott in the face and back into the room. He hit the ground hard pulling a scream out of Rogue who was quickly silenced by a dart to the throat. The mutant sank into the soft cottons of the quilt, blackness swimming into her eyes and the sedative in the tranquilizer took effect.

"X-Men indeed," the woman scoffed dumping the chalice on the ground and stalked over to Rogue. At the same time her clothes and face started to alter like a chameleon's skin shifting in its environment. Mystique hovered over Rogue a few seconds before rolling her into the sheets and securing both ends. Without effort, she lifted the girl onto her shoulders, and transformed into a Hispanic maid and carried to her into the nearest stairwell.