"I screwed up."

Her voice is tired, soft, small. She's tremblin' a little in my arms, an' it runs through me like an echo, bouncin' off the walls o' my bones like Hello Canyon. Don't wanna put 'er down, but it might be best right now; holdin' her, I just wanna take care o' her, protect her, make it all better. An' she ain't gonna go for that; she's healin' too good. Already gonna be back on her feet in a minute or so. Mystique told 'er ta hold onta me, that she'd need my strength, but Rogue don't hold onta nobody. We're a lot alike, 'specially in that way, but sometimes I just wish... I dunno what I wish.

"Did she survive?"

She's askin' about her momma, 'bout Mystique, but I can't help lookin' at her an' hearin' somethin' diff'rent. I can't help wonderin' if Rogue survived. She's always loved Mystique, even when she left ta join tha team, an' I know it ain't easy to turn your back on somebody like that - I know it tears ya up inside. So I don't let go of her just yet - maybe she ain't as healed as I thought she was.

"Just rest." I repeat it to her, in case she got it in her head not to listen the first time I said it. An' this time, I realize the kinda rest she really needs. Maybe she can hold onta my strength a little while after all.