Ethan laughed and closed the door again, wisecracking about it being the wrong room. The next one had one of his friends in. They entered, and he sat on the floor by the bed, Rogue sitting next to him. His friend was heating a golden liquid in a spoon with his lighter. She knew what he was doing, she wasn’t that naive. It must be heroin.
He drew it into a needle, then tied a bit of elastic around the top of his arm, holding it between his teeth, and injected himself in his vein. His eyes glazed over, and he let go of the elastic as his mouth went slack.
Rogue watched with fascination. His head tipped back, and he smiled lazily. Then she watched as Ethan took the spoon, put some water on it along with the heroin, heated it, and injected himself with it. After a minute or so, he held the same glazed expression as his friend.
He leaned towards her, took the joint out of her mouth, kissed her, and then placed it back between her lips. Smoking more and taking another ‘e’, she drifted in and out of euphoria.
She was aware that she was just staring at the ceiling of the room, white flaking paint hanging limply towards her, strange marks that if she looked long enough she was sure moved. She was hot and could feel the sweat on her back as she leaned against the bed. Ethan was in front of her, mumbling something about how wonderful she was going to feel, how beautiful the world would be.
She felt the scratch of the needle as it went into her arm. Ethan’s voice counted to eight, and then her body arched as she felt a wave, a rush of pure bliss fill her. She immediately felt cold, her breathing shallowed, and every care she had left in her mind floated away like a soft blowing breeze.
She let her body slip slowly sideways to the floor. She could see the door, the dim lights that came through, and the shadows of people stumbling past. The distant beat of the music slowed and matched her heartbeat, pounding noisily in her ears, along with the gentle whooshing sound of her blood through her veins.
The first time she came to, she was still on the floor. Her body felt cold and limp. She tried to move, but she couldn’t. She tried to speak but found she had forgotten how, and it confused her. Her mind swam with all the things that had happened to her. Meeting Logan. She felt her body jump as she remembered how he accidentally stabbed her. The train. His promise. Magneto’s machine. Falling out of the jet and Alkali Lake. She smiled at the memory of him looking at her, his eyes, his strong face.
The second time she came to, she rushed into the small dirty bathroom to be sick. Ethan followed her in and helped her back to the bed, laying her on it. “It’s ok, baby. I’m going to make it all better.” She tried to protest. She flapped her hand in his direction only to have him secure it under his knee. She arched off the bed as she felt him inject her again.
A fresh wave of nothingness hit her. She opened her mouth and tipped her head back, gasping at the sensation, too amazing and euphoric to describe. Time drifted by as if it never existed. She lay there looking at the window, watching the darkness slowly evaporate into the bright uncaring light of the sun, only to witness it slowly sink back down into the dangerous gloom as she finally fell asleep.
Waking up for a third time, she found she was laying face down on the bed, her clothes missing, the air in the room cool on her naked skin. The vision of that girl being used flashed into her mind. She looked to her left to see Ethan asleep in a chair against the far wall; he was fully clothed. Turning over, she nearly stopped breathing.
Ethan’s friend, she had no idea of his name, was lying next to her sleeping. He was naked as well. The bleak realisation that she must have had sex with him hit her, making her feel sick. She crawled off the bed, silently sobbing as found her clothes on the floor. She was still incredibly high, but somehow knew she needed to leave, right now. The two men slept on as she staggered out of the door.
She hailed a cab and cried in the back as he drove her to her apartment. She rested her head against the window. Let the coolness of the glass soothe her burning skin. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep until the cab driver yelled at her.
“Hey, wake up, and get your junkie ass out of my cab!”
“Hey, I’m not a….” She didn’t finish her sentence. Realising that, yes, she was. She chucked him a twenty and ran for the solace of her apartment. She passed her neighbour, Mr Sompting, on the way, ignoring the words he spoke.
The apartment was just as she had left it. Clean and neat. She had no idea that it was Sunday; she had been out of it for four days straight. She took off her jacket, shoes, socks and went into the kitchen and drank some water straight form the tap. She felt like she hadn’t drunk anything in years. As she drank like a thirsty cat, her neighbour was making an important phone call.
He dialled the number that the two men had left. The one with the funny sunglasses had been very polite, but the other taller, harder-looking man had made it perfectly clear he was to call if she came home. He spoke to whom he presumed was the nicer man and explained that she was indeed home.
She laughed at the way she was drinking. Opening her cupboard to get a glass, a small plastic bag filled with small round pills fell out. She looked at it and then at her reflection in her window. She looked pathetic, and at that moment the pills held a more promising option. She filled the glass with water and opened the bag.
At the now familiar feeling of the drugs nullifying her body and numbing her mind, she dropped the glass, watching it fall in slow motion, and it shattered and splintered on the floor. She didn’t care, honestly, wondering if she was capable anymore.
She walked over the shattered glass fragments. The sharp points cutting and digging through her delicate skin into her bare feet. She felt nothing. Leaving nothing but bloodied footprints and clothes as she walked into her bathroom and stepped in the shower.
As she turned on the water, she smiled hazily at the way the water turned red when it reached her feet. She pressed herself against the shower wall and sank to the floor, picking the glass out of her skin and tossing it out the shower door, not caring if that’s where she stayed for the rest of her life.
When Scott screeched the SUV to a halt outside ‘The Lucky House’ takeaway, it was difficult to tell who dove out of the car first: Jubes, Logan or Scott. Logan was definitely the first one to her door. He banged on it, calling her name.
Jubes began to dig around in her bag. “Wait, caveman, I have a key.” She was having trouble finding it.
Logan pushed her out of the way. “I can smell blood!” He reared back and kicked the door in. It swung on its hinges, but didn’t break.
The three rushed into the apartment, Logan immediately running to the bathroom, following the scent of blood. Scott looked at the floor, noticing the small bloodied prints leading from the kitchen. He went to investigate that.
Logan opened the shower door. “MARIE!” The water was freezing. God knows how long she had been there. He picked up the naked, cold, wet, and unconscious girl easily, taking her into the bedroom. Jubes grabbed a huge towel and wrapped it around her as Logan placed her on the bed, then covered her in blankets.
Jubes moved Logan out of the way and checked for her pulse. She let out a quick “Phew,” when she found it. Then she pulled up Rogue’s eyelids to look at her eyes. Finally she moved the towel and looked at her arms, sighing at the needle marks. She turned to Logan. “You need to go and call Hank. She is well out of it, man! I mean seriously smacked!”
Scott came in with a small plastic bag. “It looks like this is what she’s taken, but I don’t know how many.”
Jubes pointed to her arm. “She’s taken more than that.”
“FUCK!” Logan ran his hand through his hair. He looked at *his* Marie, taking in her drawn-out face, sunken eyes and grey complexion. “I *ever* get my hands on that little prick!”
Scott let out a sharp laugh. “Get in line!”
Over the next hour, many phone calls were made. Hank arrived and did what he could to help her. He bandaged her feet. She had regained consciousness and been sick. Hank had ushered the others out while he cleaned her up and saw to her. He asked her what she had taken. She told him quietly and honestly. He gave her a black drink that made her sick, again. Then he gave her something to help her sleep.
They had left her snuggled under blankets on her bed, shivering and sweating in her sleep. They were in the living room. Logan hadn’t stopped pacing. While Hank and Jubes sat on the sofa, Scott sat on the edge of the coffee table.
Hank took blood samples, but had already said he thought it was heroin. He studied the needle marks, their angle, placement, and concluded, to Scott, Jubilee and especially Logan’s relief, that she could not have injected herself.
“I don’t understand why she would let someone do that to her.” Logan stopped pacing when Hank answered his question.
“It is possible that she was quite inebriated already. She might not have been able to protest or even realise what was happening. She doesn’t have any obvious bruising, so I wouldn’t say she was restrained at the time.” Logan suddenly had a series of other horrible thoughts of what else she might not have been able to protest about.
Jubes spoke quietly, still trying to process what had happened. “What do we do now?”
“We wait and help her in any way we can. I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with this kind of thing, but I know that abstinence is the only true way.”
“You mean, like, cold turkey?” Jubes sounded shocked, secretly hoping there was a quick fix. Hank nodded.
“What if I touch her?”
“Firstly, she would have to be conscious and lucid for you to do that. Her mutation doesn’t take concentration -- she simply either turns it on or turns it off. Secondly, *she* has to get through this; you can’t just wipe her slate clean and hope she doesn’t do it again. It won’t be easy though. She will experience shivers, convulsions, sickness, and increased irritability, not to mention painful stomach cramps. She will need to be kept a close eye on; the temptation to simply have more to take the pain away will be immense. We will all have to be extremely dear friends to her.”
“Yeah, cause we’re such good friends, we noticed she had spiralled into a one-woman weapon of self-destruction.”
The room fell silent at Jubes’s comment. They all knew she was right. They had missed it. They didn’t know why she was doing it. It could have been harmless. But it wasn’t. No one felt it more than Logan did. He knew she had been smoking dope. He had smelled it on her, but honestly didn’t see the harm. Now he did.
Hank took his glasses off and cleaned them with his hankie. “There is another issue.” He had everyone’s attention, but he couldn’t meet Logan’s gaze. “On closer examination of her, her lower abdomen is very tender and slightly… well I think… I think she might be pregnant.” Logan’s hands flew to his hair, and he paced to the wall and rested his head against it. “I will need to do a test to confirm it, but I‘m pretty sure.”
“I need some air.” Logan slammed the door on the way out. The others let him go. They knew how he felt about Rogue, even if Logan didn’t.
************END OF PART TWO
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Summary: “It’s ok, baby. I’m going to make it all better.”