Renere, 'to unspin, to undo, unravel what had been spun'

by Lise

IV.
~

Now

*

Midnight, or thereabouts, and we're cleaning up the bar, Domino in the corner, slurred speech telling me someone's going to have to drag her to bed. Franklin is asleep already, run down with the flu that's going around. He was afraid for a while that it was measles, since he'd never had measles, and I redoubled the laundry load, boiled twice as much hot water. We can't afford an outbreak like that.

I don't know what kinds of diseases or bacteria could be travelling through shift zones, but whatever I can do to keep them out of here, I will.

Things are quieter here, because there are less of us than before. I miss having the people to talk to, having someone to mumble quietly with while picking carrots and beets. Lorna doesn't talk much, and Mikhail is just a child, for all his charm.

I'm going to bed, and I pass the empty shack that used to be home to Robert Drake, certified accountant. Nate ended up telling us to burn the body softly, once he cut him down. I heard him crying in his room, the next night, Domino making little shhhsing noises in the cool house.

Bobby-- Robert-- was a nice guy. I get a bit wistful. I admit, it was nice to have someone-- nice, around.

He knew the value of paper -- he wrote his suicide note on it, so much more than just a goodbye. A history of his life, a catalogue of things he'd done and hadn't done, things that people could blame on him, even though it wasn't his fault --and that's something else entirely. Something else important.

~*~

Then

*

Classes came and went. I think I attended, but most of the time I was so tired, I phased my ankles through the chairlegs without even realizing it during the early morning lectures. Thank god that I sat in the back, in the dark, so no one noticed.

At home, I'd throw my notes in a corner to collect dust, and stare at page after page after page after page of cramped handwriting and colored sketches, nightmarish and bold and frightened. One page was covered in unhappy smily faces; one page covered in the word 'xavier', written in blood. I had the lab at school test it, quietly, and it was mutant, the same type as Destiny's.

The day I joined the X-men is listed as the day a sparrow falls. The day after I read the last page of volume six, thinking that I was going to be finished, someone knocked on my door and shook my belief system. Not with a religious epiphany, of course, not with any flowery rhetoric or bright dreams or ideals.

No. All he had was a handful of dusty book, notepaper yellow and the ink from some ancient fountain pen flaking off in little crumbs upon my floor. That was enough.

...because the way Remy tells it, Book three is almost two hundred years old. I know it can't be-- Irene would be, at most, eighty, but I can't figure out how to explain it away.

He came to me, face ashen, and mutely held up a book with strange markings burned in the cover. The first thing I asked him was what the markings were. He answered with one word.

"Guild."

I was excited, and frightened, and I didn't know what to make of the fact that he'd brought the book to me. I wasn't Guild, I didn't want to be Guild-- stealing is wrong. And although I met his sister-in-law, and a few other 'friends' the week I moved in, I didn't have any contact with the Guild at all.

"Where did you get it?"

He threw it on the table and sat down, face still drawn. I got the feeling that he'd ben under a lot of stress. He said, "Vault. Sealed vault. Old vault."

I started to get a funny feeling in my gut. "How old?"

He stared at me. "Two hundred years."

Two hundred. He flipped it open to about page thirty, and held it up angrily. "Have you seen anything else about this?"

'...le diable blanc-- rouge, blanc-- '

It was all I could make out before he snapped the covers closed again. I tried to sort out my whirling thoughts-- it was Irene's handwriting, no question.

It was Irene's handwriting and it was two hundred years old.

It couldn't be two hundred-- "Where did you get it?!"

He sat down, and told me the story.

"Th'Guild has been hearing prophesies about the Old Kingdom for centuries. There was-- a casket, supposedly sealed around two hundred years ago though I guess that can't be right. It was supposed to tell us how t'unify the two Guilds, get back th'peace and heaven on earth, of th'Old Kingdom.

"The thing that most of'em didn't know is, th'savior was s'posed to be me. When I found out, I figured, joke's on them, right?

"An' there was another catch. We opened th'casket, an' it was empty. When I started askin' about it, found out it was a t'ief an' an assassin who'd taken it. I should be happy, right? They worked together."

He chuckled, and I felt a little sorry for him. He continued, "Anyway, then I started lookin' for information on my birth parents--"

I started to interrupt, and he held up a hand for me to stop. "I'm not gonna tell y'anything I'm not already. --I didn't find anything. But what Jake an' I did find, though, was Raven Darkholme.

"I respect th'woman. She scares me a lil', sometimes, but I respect her. She plays dirty, is all."

"Mystique sought you out?" I was practically shaking by this point.

"Non-- she found out I was in th'Pentagon. Decided to find out why.

"The short version goes, we found very little of what we were lookin' for... but she told me there was a bigger gameboard than th'Guild or th'X-men. I admit, she-- got me interested. Forgot about it while I had to take care of some other stuff, but I remembered about it th'other day, talkin' t'you.

"I started diggin' again, and found out that the Guild prophesies had been stolen because my pere had ordered it a couple'a months ago. He was head of th' N'awlins Guild for years, an'it was his privilege. Not that I thank him.

"I threatened Gris-Gris, eventually, an' Bel backed me up. With some persuading, he coughed up-- that." A breeze blew in from the window, rustling the curtains, and it was the only sound in the room for a moment or two. Remy continued, "I don't know how Jean-Luc might've known Irene or Raven. But Gris-Gris said my father had ordered him t'keep it from me for a while, not destroy it."

He took a breath. "I figure, it's 'cause I was s'posed t'give it t'you."

Volume Three.

I stared at him. He was telling me, in a nutshell, that despite even Remy's incredible resources, determination, and sheer bloodymindedness, Irene had still made him jump through hoops before she was good and ready to give up her secrets. "Remy--I--"

"Listen. Th'Guild's fallin' apart-- the Neo even said they had a peace wit' us decades ago, an' that scares me more'n a lil'. Th'X-men aren't gonna believe this stuff, an' if they do... who knows what'll happen."

A chill went up my arm. I picked up the worn manuscript, some of the pages yellowed. It smelled a little like the inside of a tomb. "Do you believe 'this stuff'?"

He was very serious, very grave, with his answer. "Kit, m'whole life, people been tellin' me prophesies. I used t'believe'em, because that's what t'ief kids do. Then I found out I was th'one they'd been waitin' for."

I couldn't decide whether that was a yes or a no... and to be honest, I don't think Remy could, either.

The calendar told me it was a few weeks before Mardi Gras, and a month since I saw Mystique. God knows how long since Irene planted one of her diaries in the Guild-- in the Guild!-- so that Remy would find it. But then, I rationalized, she couldn't have planted it; they must have just found it. Her journal must have just fallen into the hands of the Guild-- which was more frightening, more nerve-shaking.

So, despite my resolve to lead a normal life, I found myself back in Monaco.

~

This time, Raven sought me out. "Pryde."

"Mystique."

"--let's not stand on ceremony. Have a drink."

"Not while I'm working."

"Then stop working. Would a princess allow one of her guests to feel less than welcome?"

I whispered, "Are you really princess Astrid, Mystique?"

"Raven. And, from time to time."

I felt like I was in a cheezy movie all scripted out-- except I'd forgotten my lines. "She doesn't mind?"

"Astrid and I go back. She allows me these jaunts because she abhors the socialite life." Raven's eyes glimmered. "A charming woman, Astrid is."

I swallowed. "Are you two-- is she your lover?"

Raven's face looked surprised, but I was spared the expected tongue-lashing. "I didn't expect such an impertinant question from you, Kitty." She grinned. "Brava."

I faced her more confidently. "You said you'd help me when I believed. I believe."

She ushered me into a conference room, pulled out my chair for me, and sat down across from me. "So, Katherine. What can I do for you?"

I crossed my arms. Something you have to understand about this situation; Raven Darkholme has been someone on the other side ever since I've known the woman. Evil, from time to time. She's been with X-Factor and without a government and she's been more people than anyone I've ever met.

I've never seen her be straight with anyone. It put me on edge, which, of course, might be what she intended. "What do I have to do to get your cooperation with Irene's diaries, Mystique?"

She chuckled quietly. "So, it's 'Irene', but not 'Raven'. Funny, Katherine. I'd expect more warmth from someone who wants a favor."

A favor. I didn't want to owe her anything, so I shook my head. "No, forget it."

"What?"

I shook my head again, picking up my purse and standing up. "Forgive the offense, but I don't want to owe you anything. Raven."

She smiled, and put a cigarette into a slim holder, lit up. I heard an alarm go off in my head, wondering, quite frankly, what the hell I was doing there. The answer came easily-- I was afraid. The next thought I had was, of course, I wonder if 'Yana and Jean-Luc were this afraid.

I wouldn't admit it at the time, but I will now-- I hoped that they were. I think, I've always hoped they were all this afraid. It means I'm not quite alone.

Wearing a princess' face, and an unreadable expression, she stared at me from across the table, enjoying this earth-shaking. I swallowed, and couldn't help but blurt, "Did Irene get frightened by what she saw? I don't just mean, from the standpoint of her diaries. In every day life, too."

Raven then stared through me. I felt like I'd pushed a barrier, gone beyond a boundary that I'd had no right to cross, even though it was an innocent question. She finally said, "Deja-vu, Pryde. She lived in perpetual deja-vu."

I looked confused. She shook her head at me, amused at something only she could see, and then pulled out a satchel. I didn't dare look inside, because I was afraid to know what she was giving me, what she was burdening me with. It turned out to be volumes two, five, eight and nine, and they were mostly-decoded already, Raven having years of research behind her to put to the task. I held that leather strap tightly, and tried not to let my fear show.

I must have realized that this was the point of no return, that this would commit me-- but I don't remember. I do remember being afraid. And I remember asking, "Raven, do you think this is wise?"

I remember her answering, "I have no idea."

On page ten of volume ten, there is something written in Ask'ani. I can't translate it, and Nate seems unwilling. It's bordered by a perfect circle, unbroken, and I think it was Irene's little joke. After everything anyone does, that's the answer. I can't read it.

We stared at each other for a few minutes, and I thought about the things I'd known her to be. She must have thought about something important too. Some moments call for it. Irene said, somewhere, 'the end is beginning is end is-- stare.' I don't know what she meant. I had no clue I would never see Raven again, and if I had, I don't know what I would have said, asked, that I never got the chance. Perhaps nothing.

I didn't ask her whether she thought we were going to survive. She kissed my cheek, murmured something either threatening or comforting, and went back to gamble. Mystique is a fan of gambling. Maybe that's why she chose me.

I left.

When the rumors of her death started, I couldn't afford to think about it. There were bigger things to deal with. At least, I thought there were.

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