DISCLAIMER The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used without their
permission. Sikudhani McCoy is the property of Darqstar and is mentioned in this story with her
permission. This is a work of fanfiction, intended for entertainment purposes only.

The Reflection In The Mirror
Part Eleven
By ScarletLady

Hank gazed thoughtfully at Rogue for a long while. She fidgeted, not meeting his eyes.

"Noah?" Hank asked

Rogue's head whipped around. "What?" she almost snapped.

"Just checking." Hank stifled a chuckle at her half covered resentment. "So, how do you feel about telling me your real name?"

"Nervous. Not sure I did the right thing." Rogue was visibly edgy.

"Why are you nervous? What possible harm could I do by simply knowing your name?"

"Mamma always told me ya don't give information about yourself away. Ya never know what they'll do with it." Rogue's voice was halting, but she was determined to make herself deal with this problem.

"It strikes me, Noah, that despite everything Mystique has done to you, despite knowing she was terribly misguided in her actions, you are still doing your best to please her. Why?" Hank was prodding her to understand her actions, instead of merely reacting.

"She loved me, Hank." Rogue said, like it was such an obvious a conclusion a two year old should have gotten it.

"Serial killers can love people, too. Does that mean people live their life like Charles Manson would want them to?"

Rogue ran head on into the fact that however much she might not like Henry McCoy right now for pointing that out, he was right. She was still trying to please someone who didn't deserve it. Mystique was not a nice person, even though she'd been kind to her as a child.

Rogue dealt with that for a minute in silence. "Ah got some thinking to do, Hank." She walked slowly out of the room, eyes focused inward.

Hours later, Rogue was still sitting on the roof. It was here that she felt closest to Remy, and she needed that uncertain contact right now. She was in the middle of altering her whole world, and she needed something stable to anchor herself. Her relationship with Remy was nothing like stable, but her emotions were telling her that it was the only acceptable thing about her life at this moment. She examined her character like Sherlock with a new mystery. Conclusion A: She wasn't a very nice person. Conclusion B: She wasn't very proud of herself, either. Her depression was growing by leaps and bounds as she looked at her life with an eye towards seeing just how far she'd let Mystique's teachings dominate her thinking. Oh, she'd known it in an offhand sort of way, but this was the first time she'd really thought about it.

**All right. So Ah don't much like mahself, right now. Mostly 'cause Ah don't think before Ah do things, and people get hurt.** People like Remy, who'd never in any way, shape or form done anything to her to deserve what she'd done to him. **This ain't right. Ah want to change. Ah'm goin' to change.** Determination gave her thoughts the strength of iron. She felt the rightness of that decision settle over her like mist on a meadow.

Rogue constructed a vow to herself. No more thoughtless reactions. She was going to make herself actually think before she said a single word to anyone for the next week. Saying she could do it forever was a pie-crust promise; easily made and easily broken. But she could do it for a week. After that, she'd do it for another week. And another. And another. Until she didn't have to promise herself she'd think before she said something that couldn't be taken back. Words could cause pain that may be forgiven, but wouldn't ever stop hurting unless they were forgotten. What she'd thrown at Remy wasn't words, but that only made it worse. She'd struck at the heart of him, and the damage she'd done would always leave scar tissue, if it managed to heal at all.

Henry had shown her the way to find her own answers. No one could make the changes for her, it had to come from her heart. **Was this how Remy felt when he found Ororo?** For the first time, Noah thought about how Remy must have had to change, too. She deepened her understanding of the Cajun, and felt somewhat in awe of the strength of purpose and convictions he must have had, to make a complete about face from his old life.

She began to understand that there was so much more in addition to what she already thought she knew about Remy Lebeau. She wondered, **Can your example teach me how to be better, Remy? Can you believe me when I say you've already taught me to admire you? Can you teach me how to love you?**

No, she realized, that was one thing that she didn't need to be taught.