1
During her questioning, Joan of Arc told the English, 'I told them things that have happened and things that shall happen yet'. Rogue kept this in mind as she refolded the letter she'd received from Irene. Bending down to reach under the cot she considered a bed to withdrawal a metal lunchbox with Curious George gracing it's tin surface.
Flipping the hasp, and lifting the lid to reveal a small wad of cash, an Altoid tin she knew held several brightly coloured pills and a small vile of liquid LSD, there was also a thin silver and sapphire ring that had once belonged to Irene. Placing the letter on top of the other contents, she closed the box and slid the tin back under the bed with a scrapping sound across the wooden floor of the studio apartment Ms. Darkholme had provided.
She sat back on her haunches and rubbed chartreuse coloured eyes rimmed in dark liner. She'd left Mississippi almost 5 months ago. And after several failed attempts at contacting her estranged guardian, she'd received a letter.
Rogue had found the letter from the blind precognitive, really no more than a long series of jumbled rantings and cryptic messages, some in English others in French, more however in unrecognizable languages. The envelope was unmarred asides her own name in Irene's erratic handwriting. No postage stamp or processing mark, which meant either Irene herself or someone else in contact with her had placed the letter directly in her post box.
Rogue rose wearily to her full height, she was tired. Her blood moved like mud through her veins, pulling thick and slow through the delicate capillaries. She reached for the cigarettes off the splintered vanity she'd found at a garage sale, placing the filter between rouged lips, but failed to locate a lighter that worked. Cursing she spat it out.
Pressing the play button on her stereo, she tried to clear her mind as Maynard James Keenan whispered there was a shadow just behind him, she lay down on the bed peeling away her gloves with a sob as the fabric stuck to the healing cuts of her left forearm. Curling into a foetal position she let the slow crawl of skin tickle its way through her body, until she thought she could hear the worms squirm in the ground....
2
Tucking Irene's folded notes into a spiral bound notebook, Rogue made her way towards the back of the public library that held the internet access computers.
Several names had been mentioned in the text, many of which had been vague biblical references, but Rogue had long since rejected the Catholicism of her childhood. She recalled staying with her Grand Mary when her mother overdosed on heroine and was put in the hospital. The old plantation style house was incrusted with the presence of Jesus. Rogue had been scared of that house. She'd had little packages of holy oil that resembled the little foil ketchups you get at a fast food restaurant. Grand Mary used to make her rub her self with it to purify her of her mothers sins. During those late thoughts that lie adjacent to sleep, Rogue often wondered if her grandmother's insane insistence that she drench herself in those oils was the reason her skin betrayed her.
Irene never pressed her to religion, instead into literature. Leaving her know with only fleeting memories of Christian characters. Pulling up several texts and spreading out computer printouts. Jotting down notes on occasion.
'The crows will flock away in madness, The Empire shall fall from their fluttered feathers'
Rogue furrowed her this brows and closed her eyes against the dryness of fatigue.
"Last minute research project?" a voice queried. Rogue's green eyes lifted to look up through sooted lashes to regard a cobalt eyed Jean Grey.
Grabbing at the copious stack of papers and shoving Irene's note into one of the books. Jean looked slightly startled but smiled regardlessly and sat down, placing her own books on the table. Rogue continued gathering her things, while Jean perused the texts she had out.
"I didn't know you understood French"
Rogue raised a brow. "Why would ya? Ya don't know me?" This time her smile faltered.
"Maybe I'd like to," Jean offered.
"Ah'm sure," Rogue muttered, hoping to get her to leave with coercion.
"I, uh, wanted to thank you again, for helping me out with Fred."
"That was months ago," she drawled.
"Yes, but still it was really major of you," Jean grabbed her own books as Rogue rose and turned to make her way to the sliding doors.
"Yea, well Ah'll make sure notta do make that call again," Rogue hurried away clutching at her new information.
"I don't think you would do that, Rogue, I think you'd help me again," Jean called after her.
Rogue spun on her boot heel, "Ya think that, do ya? Ya got anothah' thang comin gal. Ah don't know ya, and ya sure as hell don' know me, what Ah did... Ah can't explain, and Ah don' care ta, so stop following me around like Ah'm your buddy, Ah ain't!"
A college student from the next table looked over in annoyance.
With that final statement, Rogue left, the electronic doors swishing closed after her retreating black clad form.
Terrian came up behind her followed by Kitty. "What is her childhood trauma?" Kitty asked. Terrian shrugged and slung her back pack back onto her shoulder.
"Let's go, Jean," Terrian urged. Jean nodded dumbly and left with her friends.
3
Rogue returned to her apartment, her frustration at the day increasing, dumping her load on the floor of spartanly furnished studio apartment, she flipped on the stereo to drown out the sounds of the couple next door who might be either fighting or fucking. Rogue grimaced at the thought and began to strip first her silver jewelry and then her multiple layers of clothing.
Her living space didn't have a bathroom per se, the toilet was placed in a tiny alcove along with a sink and the shower was simply a stall set into the wall with a glass door frosted with soap residue.
Rogue stepped into the stall leaning under the stream of hot water that scolded her skin pink and created dark tear paths under her eyes from her eyeliner.
Under the sound of running water the voice of the Lizard King ,Jim Morrison, droned out the tale of an LA Woman. She soaked like that for a long while before she picked up the old fashioned single blade razor from the tiled floor, and made a new slash across the wire network of scratch like scars marring the otherwise perfect skin of her left arm. The blood tinged the bathwater pink like the heat did her skin. Number 153.
153 cuts.
153 days since she'd last seen Irene.
One cut for one day. Part punishment to her treacherous skin, part contempt for her soul.
Most had healed completely, but a few hadn't leaving pearly puckered scars. Others only red lines across too pale skin.
One stuck out boldly against the rest. Angry and white, jagged and straight at the same time. a moment of madness and self contempt for her self. It stood vertical to the vein close to her skin. So close she could see the little pushing it's pulse made against the frail flesh. A testament to the time shortly after coming to New York, when she'd neglected to take her meds and her own minds darkness clung to her like a spooked child to it's momma's skirts. She'd taken the letter opener she owned with a grinning pewter faerie perched on it's top and stabbed herself in the wrist. Faintly remembering that you should cut the vein vertically so it would bleed faster.
Since then she'd placed the letter opener in the same metal lunchbox as her pills and other valuables. She hadn't forgotten her medication since, even though it made her blood feel as thick as her accent and heavy as the world. Nor had she forgotten to take any other kind of drug prescribed or not. She also only cut her self horizontally now. Sometimes diagonal. Never vertical. She was afraid of that now. Vertical meant end. End meant no hope. And at the moment hope was everything she had. Hope that she'd figure out her mutation. Hope that she'd be normal or at least some semblance of.
Ms. Darkholme had promised her control, and had yet to pull through with that one. But at least she wasn't homeless, but Darkholme also had yet to reveal why she was harboring her.
The water ran cold, easing her burned skin back to it's natural pallor, but she didn't notice the temperature change for several minutes when she realized she was shivering crouched in the shower corner forehead pressing against the tile walls of the stall.
The ice water trailed down the middle of her back along her spin. The skin of her back pulled tight across her spinal column, the vertebrae protruding and her ribs coming into view when she moved like the rungs of a ladder. And dripping onto her well endowed breasts, luckily the only gift her grandmother's genes granted her. She shuttered at the memory of the insane woman.
Twisting the excess water from her hair, longer than when she first arrived in New York, she stepped out of the stall. She was unwilling to go to a barber for fear of touch, she supposed it would continue to grow. The shocks of white nearly transparent when wet, matted together with dark auburn.
Forgetting her initial intent to bathe, she groped for the towel she knew was there, Drying off and reclading her self in clean clothing, Rogue sat down at the vanity wiping away the dark smudges her makeup had left behind. The vanity itself was made of a dark wood it's tapered legs split from years of misuse, the bottom right corner of the mirror was cracked and hidden by a picture of Irene she'd placed there.
Rogue regarded the picture, with it's frayed edges and image of a woman with white hair and smoked glasses.
A momentary stir of emotions rose, the sting of abandonment, the confusion of isolation all laced with an undercurrent of longing for a woman who'd raised her for 5 years.
Reaching for her lighter and selecting a stick of incense and inserting it into the burner at the corner of the table top. The smell of honeysuckle filled the air with lacey tendrils of smoke.
It was 7:35 on a Friday night
Time to get drunk.
4
Rogue liked pool. It was a good way to concentrate on something other than what you needed to.
Jakob Pike had taught her how to play in his basement rec room. Jakob was a death rocker who played guitar in a band and lived across the street from her and Irene's home.
The rec room had a fully operational wet bar, which the two utilized quite often, though somehow Jakob's father Colonel Pike never seemed to notice his missing alcohol, even though the Colonel ran his house strict. Jakob had still found plenty of room to rebel against his father and for the most part got away with it, til he caught him in the rec room with his pants down with the Lauder's boy.
Jakob hid out in Rogue's room for a few hours looking out the window occasionally waiting for the lights in the house to go out, then descended out the window to sneak back in to get his stuff. They'd made a plan to head a little further south to New Orleans. Jakob knew a guy still that he'd met when his father was posted there. Only a three hour drive, but he'd said even if they got lost they'd have fun on the way.
Jakob didn't come back from the house, and Colonel Pike was charged with murder of a minor, the authorities hauled him off to Biloxi, and Rogue didn't go anywhere. Until the following week when her mutation emerged.
But she didn't head south as planned, Darkholme scooped her up and began her on heavy training. She now wondered if she should have stuck to the original plan and found the friend himself. Talked to him on the phone once. Nice guy, sweet talker, but Rogue didn't get much of that. Her stick struck the cue and several balls clicked into the pockets.
She leaned against the stick with her hip cocked to the right as her opponent took his shot. She grinned at his final performance. "Good, but it ain't good enough, sugah." She collected her money with a saccharine sweet smile cast upon cupid bow lips. Tonight's shade of choice was vampire wine. How apt she thought wondering why she even bought the berry shade of lipstick to begin with, vampires drink the life out of you I just get to suck it out.
"You wanna play again, sweetheart?" Her grin grew, they always came back for more and she always got paid. Well there were less reputable means of acquiring money.
"Maybe lata sugah, gal's gotta eat."
Logan glanced at her from under an oil skin hat, cigar in mouth. Then keeping cerulean coloured eyes downcast as she made her way to the booth behind him. Catching a brief whiff of the gingerlily oil she lightly wore through the cigar smoke as she resumed eating her previously abandoned buffalo wings. He grabbed his beer mug twisted and sat down at her booth facing her.
5
Caught mid bite, chartreuse eyes wide as dinner plate Rogue threw the chicken down in the serving basket and grabbed for her purse.
"Lookin fer this, darlin?" Logan asked holding up the black knit bag he'd grabbed from under the table. Rogue's eyes flared and she grabbed for the bag, the leather lips of her gloves stained with BBQ sauce.
"Gimme mah damned bag" She drawled darkly, Logan grinned and tossed it at her. Catching it on her chest she made the move to leave but Logan caught her arm provoking a flinch. He frowned.
"I'd like to talk to you kid, maybe shoot a round. You game?"
She looked around backwards at the bar and pool tables, no one was paying attention to them. Rogue twisted back to face him.
"Let. Me. Go," she hissed at him, apprehension coming off her in waves.
"Look kid, we're in a public place, I couldn't hurt you here, and I wouldn't otherwise, so sit down."
She resumed her spot on the seat opposite him with a grunt grabbing her own beer and taking a gulp.
"Yer too young to be drinking that."
"You gonna rat me out?"
"No."
"Then you're point would be?"
"Just a statement."
Jade eyes searing at him. Calm blue ones stared peacefully back, her grinned at her puffing on his black cheroot.
"Jean said she saw you at the library."
She raised a brow. "Ah, don't have a computer, so?"
"I don't take ya fer the studying type."
"What is that supposed ta mean, ya think Ah'm stupid?"
"Know ya ain't. 153 IQ, made good grades in Mississippi, fluent in two languages, took advanced classes since you were in the 3rd grade." She looked up at him in confusion. "I also know you have a shitty attendance record, the Professor has your file," he offered as an explanation.
The crossed thin arms over ample breasts pushing her cleavage against the dark blue neck line of her shirt.
Logan diverted his eyes back up to her face and took a sip of his beer before shrugging. "He likes to be thorough with those he's interested. Especially if they're attacking his team."
"Y'all attacked me remember?"
"Believe that if ya want kid."
"You should leave me alone."
"Alone's not a good place to be left, kid, I know."
"Quit callin' me that!" she demanded.
"Sure, Rogue."
"Listen mistah-"
"Logan."
"Mistah Logan-"
"No, just Logan."
"Ah don't know what y'all want from me, but Ah don't want nottin from y'all."
"We want to help."
"Why?"
He paused, another sip and another drag, then gestured at the people sitting at the bar. "Those men over there," her eyes followed the direction the cigar stub was pointed, "What do you think they'd do to you if they found out yer a freak? They'll drag ya out back and have their way with the pretty little mutie who dared to show up in public. And America would justify it as appropriate punishment for an abomination. They would just turn their heads at it." Rogue's eyes shot back to him.
"Ah'm doin just fine on mah own," she replied diffidently.
"Whatcha doin' ain't livin, darlin', it's just surviving and barely too." She looked away from him. "I'll make you a deal. We play one round," he made a motion towards the pool tables. " I win, you come back tomorrow and we talk some more, you win we don't mess with yu anymore." Rogue looked at him doubtfully. "Come on, kid, even if you lose all you'll have to do is talk."
She hesitated then nodded unsurely.
"Fahn." She rubbed the sauce from her faux leather gloves, left over from a Halloween costume a year ago. Then rose, him following watching the subtle roll of her hips.
'Letcher' he chided himself and brought his eyes up to her hair, medium lengthed and curled at the ends. She turned on her heel and tossed him a stick, Logan caught it with grace as she set the rack.
She came around to where he stood to take her next shoot, tan suede hung low hugging the sharp contours of her hips and the dark blue long sleeved shirt she wore rode up as she bent, revealing a lotus tattoo on the small of her back. She sunk the last two balls and turned, full lips pulled across sharp little teeth in a feral grin.
"Ah win." She tossed him the stick and headed back for her table.
6
Logan cursed silently and made his way to the bar and perched himself on the metal stool.
Rogue grimly sat back at her booth nursing a fresh ale, pushing her tongue against the faint after taste and attributed it to cheapness. But a haze soon began to build behind her eyes halfway through the cloud she closed her eyes and frowned. 'Oh damn' the thought echoed in her head. She groped for the purse she left on the seat and threw a crumpled twenty on the table, standing shakily. Rubbing her temples as the fog began to spread and swirl within the small confines of her cranium and down her spine.
"Hey sweetheart, you ain't lookin so peachy." It was her pool partner from earlier, Eddy her mind numbly recalled.
She ignored him and tried to walk towards the door. He grabbed her arm and she pushed against him unsuccessfully.
"How about I take you home and give an aspirin and a warm bed?"
With closed eyes she parted her lips and shook her head, "uh uh" barely made it across her vocal cords.
Logan appeared pulling Rogue away from him and pushing her into the booth. Eddy foolishly swung a punch that connected with Logan's mandible. He twisted and slammed Eddy against the support beams, fore arm pressed against the other man's neck. One inch of metal pressed against his abdomen 8 more inches waited to shoved through his gut.
"Get gone."
By now Eddy's friend's had taken notice, Logan shoved the man away, slinging an arm around a barely conscious and grabbing her purse before Eddy's party could start anything more and headed for the door.
Rogue was trying to fight him as he loaded her into the passenger side of his truck, throwing her bag in after her. He doubted she even knew she'd left the pool hall.
She muttered something as he drove before falling over in her seat, her head landing in his lap.
Logan attempted to ignore where her head was located and concentrated on driving. Pulling into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant and guided the truck to rest under a post light. He grabbed her bag from it's fallen location on the floor and dumped it's contents; Lighter, a set of keys, the crumpled white and gold package of Marlboro lights, a few bills, a stick of eyeliner, and paydirt- an ID. It listed her as Amy Jebs and over 21. Fake. He rummaged some more til he found the real one. It listed her address, so that's where he took her.
7
The air outside was several degrees cooler when he finally found the two story apartment building and got her to her standing outside of the front door. Logan fumbled with the keys, finally able to open the door.
The smell that greeted him was a mix of cigarettes, incense, and weed. And Rogue. He'd found the right place.
Rogue was now murmuring and trying to push away from him, but quickly lost her posture and pitched forward. "Oh no you don't, kid," he said catching her with one arm around her waist and the other coming up vertically between her breasts, barely missing her bare collar bone, now completely out.
Logan had to hoist her up to get Rogue past the doorway. Kicking the door with a grunt, he quickly located the cot she used as a bed and deposited her there.
Returning to the door and locking it. 'Girl ain't liven in the best of areas' he thought grimly regarding the unconscious mutant with empathy. He'd been there and back and on a return trip with detours til he found a place with Xavier's band of merry men.
He then took to exploring the tiny apartment. The walls were plastered in monstrous black and white posters of androgynous beings, eyes dark with depression. Logan could only assume the music that made them famous would be as such. Which brought him to her music collection stacked haphazardly on the floor surrounding a small silver stereo, a back pack next to it with a half finished essay on top.
On the far wall near the shower stall and endenture that held the toilet and sink was a small book case crammed with what looked like every book from here to Rogue's native Mississippi. Messy volumes in both hard and paper bound editions ranging from Lovecraft and Camus to Poppy Z. Brite and comic books.
The floor next to the case was a small forest of marble mushrooms and pewter faeries. Logan shot a glance over his shoulder to the drugged girl on the cot and back at her fantasy collection that betrayed her youth. Beside the little illusion of perfect innocence was a well thumbed and dog eared edition of Joan of Arc. He picked the book up, the cover dry under his calluses and the violet light from a lava lamp making the white paper purple. 'Doesn't exactly peg me for a Catholic' he was proved wrong by the crystal rosary he found strung around knob of the vanity, there he also found pagan religious texts also dog-eared and a small silver pentacle necklace. 'She's converted' was his conclusion.
An old picture was wedged between the mirror and it's frame. Irene Adler. He recognized the woman from the file the professor had on Rogue listing her as legal guardian. A vertical crease ran through the laminated paper making the wrinkles on the woman's face even more prominent. He flicked the photo back on to the vanity and returned to the fridge and removed a Guinness. Striking the cap on the counter to open it, Logan took a gulp before taking a seat on the bean bag chair opposite of the cot.
8
Rogue awoke with he sensation of cotton jammed within the small confines of her skull. She gulped down the vertigo that rose with her first conscious breath, licking at the desert in her mouth.
"Mornin' sunshine," a gruff voice called from her left. Rogue shot up, flinging herself from the cot, trying to ignore the acid biting at her throat.
"What the hell are ya doing here?" Rogue pressed her back to the wall, it's coolness seeped through the fabric of her shirt tickling the skin along her spine.
"You were drugged at the bar." Logan rose taking several steps towards her. Rogue closed her eyes against the pain that had begun spidering it's way through her torso. "I got you out of there, brought ya here." She opened her eyes to look at him. Her eyes darted to the bed. She hugged herself shaking.
"No, no I didn't do that darlin'. Just brought you here, stayed the night on your chair, I wouldn't do that, kid," he explained somewhat disgusted she would think he took advantage of what happened. "But that man he drugged you would have." She was still quivering. "I told ya, kid, all I want to do is help. Remember what we talked about last night? All that still stands."
"You lied," Rogue croaked, the dizziness spreading to her arms and fingers. "You said if Ah win you'd leave me alone."
"Yeah, well that was before some hick tried to rape you." Her head fell against the wall with a hollow thud. For a moment she wondered if her head would press through the flaccid divide.
"Oh, gawd." The words barely slipped past her lips.
"You okay kid?"
Rogue fell the few feet to the toilet just as the remains of her last meal purged it's self from her stomach. Logan came up rubbing her back and pulled her curly mop of hair away, as wretching gave way to dry heaving.
"Just let it out darlin'. It'll clean your system." He helped her up and brought her to the sink basin and turned on the water allowing her to wash her mouth out. Logan reached over to flush the vomit away and turned back to the shaking girl leaning against the sink. Rogue turned and faced him.
"You drank all mah beer."
"I'll buy you some more."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Is it so hard to believe someone would try and help you with out expecting something in return?" She stared at him. Apparently it was.
"You do want something. You want me ta go ta those people ya live with."
"Only if you want," Logan offered. "The Professer could help you." She crossed her arms. 'Good game face for a kid that just spilled her guts' the thought brought a tug to his lips.
"Ya mean he can fix me?" she asked immediately becoming alert.
"No," her face fell, "He can teach you to control your powers." Rogue looked at skeptically.
"Darkholme keeps promising me the same thang," she replied still standing rigidly.
"And what exactly do you think she's been training you for in return? Jean said she saw you two in the gym sparring."
"Jean can shut the fuck up."
"Watch your mouth, girl, ya ain't white trash."
"Darkholme's teaching me ta protect mahself. People don't exactly like folks like me." Mississippi dripped off the words.
"People like us." She looked away. "We could do the same for you, if that's all you want. Xavier's had a lot more success helping with control than Darkholme. I could get you out of this dump." Logan kicked at the black plastic roach trap on the floor.
"You could get me out?" she asked her arms uncrossing and taking a small step forward.
"Get a shower you'll feel better. Or would you rather have food first?" She sniffled pushing away from the sink weakly.
"Food." Logan grabbed her arm to steady her not noticing her flinch under the pressure on her left arm. Rogue opened one of the cabinets and withdrew two cans. "You want?"
"You live off Spaghettios, Rogue?"
"12 for three bucks at the store"
"Get a shower I'll take you to breakfast," She looked confused. "My treat." She looked at the shower stall and it's clear door, feeling her skin burn.
Logan held himself from laughing at her modesty. "Don't worry darlin' I won't peek." She looked doubtful for a moment.
Logan went to the front area of the apartment, kicked the bean bag chair into position and took a seat facing the book case. He heard her moving somewhere behind him and begin to remove her clothing as he absently flipped through one of her music magazines.
Rogue peeled off right glove, then began with the left. Pulling the long sheath of leather away from the half healed cuts that it had grafted itself to. Biting her tongue against the hiss that escaped.
"Hey? You alright?" 'Oh damn he heard that' Logan stood looking at her, catching her swing her left arm uselessly behind her. The other arm rising in an attempt to cover what her bra and underwear didn't. He disregarded her embarrassment and reached behind her grabbing her by the glove she hadn't fully removed.
"What the hell?"
9
Rogue tried to wrench away, but Logan held fast.
"Did you do this to yourself?"
"Let the fuck go!" She tried again and failed. Rogue made a tight fist and forced it into Logan's solar plexus a the tip of the sternum. A crisp wet snap came with the fracture and displacement at the end of his breast bone. She felt it snap back into place under her knuckles. Rogue's eyes grew at the discovery of Logan's mutation, but he didn't flinch, instead taking her arm over her head and twisting her around so her back was against his chest. "Let me go, please?" They were child's words and she was sobbing and shaking now, Logan tried to ignore the added friction. The inchoate scabs on her wrist split and cried warm blood down her arm, staining his flannel shirt and disappearing under her half removed glove. "Let go" it was weak and barely uttered.
"No," came his answer as he tried to disavow her iniquity. She lost the support her knees offered and he fell to the floor with her, still protected by the heavy flannel. He refused her request and still she cursed him through guilty tears, her plea becoming an anathema. She quieted into sobs.
"Shh, darlin'," he whispered bringing his hand up to her tear stained face. Logan felt him conscious drip into her just before it became a flash flood.
10
When he woke an hour had passed and Rogue was crowded in a corner hugging herself, head bent, hair dusting her knees. "Hey?" Logan asked raising tentatively to his feet. His healing factor pulling the dizziness out of his blood. Rogue didn't respond. "You alright?" Logan spoke again taking a step closer. Rogue impelled herself backwards to the glass door of the shower stall, a hand coming up behind her to the wall to steady her still crouching form. Three bone claws were silhouetted against the soapy glass door. "Shit" blood dripped down her hands and onto the floor. Rogue's other hand came to press to her face. A duplicate set of talons came from the other hand cutting her chin as it came up. Head still bent, rusty brown and white hair hiding her face and tangling in the claws. The blood from her hands stained the platinum bolt.
"It hurts," she sobbed, not sure if she meant her hands or head, Logan grabbed the blanket off the bed. Rogue growled softly but allowed him to wrap her scantly clothed self in the thin sheet.
"Come on darlin', put em away," he urged pulling her erect. The tendons in her hands tensed at the proximity. "Relax, okay?" Logan half dragged her towards the door. "Shit." She whimpered and they slipped back into her arms, the entry wounds pulling shut. Realizing his intent, she brought her foot up and shoved against the door jam. Logan lost his grip on her and Rogue fell, quickly swinging herself up. The blanket falling away, Rogue spun quickly bringing her heel into his rib cage, Logan bent over grabbing her foot before she could spin completely and thrust it up over her head. Rogue right hand came above her head and she pulled herself into a back roundoff to avoid falling, landing in a crouch before leaping into the air and brought the top of her foot into his lower jaw forcing his head up. 'Guess she has been training' Logan thought, annoyance growing. 'A few more hits to let her think she has me and...' Her reflexes were still impaired from the combination of the acid she'd dropped the night before and whatever Eddy'd slipped her. Logan's borrowed mutation hadn't siphoned out all of it yet. She couldn't move fast enough to block the punch that slammed down onto her collar bone, Logan felt it rupture under his fist. Rogue stumbled back feral face glaring as the dent near the V of her neck straightened itself as the fleeting vestiges of Logan's mutation corrected her injuries. She was dizzy, he could see it in her slight wobble. Logan shoved her down and she immediately grabbed for the forgotten blanket to cover her near nudity.
"Please, jus' leave me alone." Losing all choler and her pleas giving way to an innate innocence. "Please?" she bunched the grey sheet closer.
"Like hell kid, gimme yer hand." She shook her head. "Just do it," he demanded. Her head snapped up the animosity returning. Logan knelt next to her ripping the blanket away and withdrawing her left arm to audit the slashes. All that remained were the past healed scars. The wounds that were still fresh had cleared with out reminisce. "Get dressed."
"Fuck you."
Logan rose grabbing discarded clothing off the floor. "Get yer clothes on Rogue"
"Ya ain't mah fathah!"
"Yeah, I'm still around." Rogue flinched at that remark and accepted the denim and cotton. Logan frowned regretting he'd thrown that bit of attained knowledge in.
"At least Ah know who mahn is, can ya own son say that?" Logan ignored that comment, realizing she'd also gotten his memories.
"Put your fucking clothes on Rogue."
"Turn around"
"No." Rogue's eyes grew wider and she held the blanket tighter.
"Then get the fuck outta mah house." Logan frowned again unwilling to leave her unsupervised even two feet from him, though realizing that refusing her request would only lead to a stalemate with her half dressed... He relented and soon learned his mistake.
11
Rogue's balled fist came down on the juncture between Logan's neck and shoulder, smashing the pressure point and brining him down long enough to get out the front door. Logan spun chasing her down the outside hallway of the apartment building and watched her vault the railing and landing on the fabric canopy and dropping from there to the community pool deck. Almost falling into the green sludge of un-chlorified water, she caught herself and dashed forward at full speed vaulting another fence in a fashion that registered as a gymnastics background. Clothes still clutched in her hands she disappeared behind the building.
Logan frowned doubting the canopy would support the weight of a metal skeleton dropping two stories on to it. Instead he took to the stairs, thankful he hadn't been successful in getting her in the shower. Stronger scent to follow. He turned down the alleyway beyond the pool.
Rogue cursed as she realized Logan had left her bike at the bar. Once in the alley she put on the clothes she'd had enough sense to grab during her flee from Logan. Standing straight she shoved her now ungloved hands her pocket, the long cotton sleeves of the green shirt covering her arms. The wide leg skater jeans she donned sheathed her bare feet.
For a moment she was reminded of her bayou hometown of Caldecott, with it's oystershell roads that produced hard calluses on those who walked barefoot. The memory made the cigarette burn on the small of her back itch under the tattoo that hid it. Drea a blonde girl with messy dred locks and a gold nose ring had inked it on. A black lotus she recalled from mythology would permit the forgetfulness of sorrow. Hadn't worked yet. Rogue had cried through the secession quiet tears pouring down her cheeks, terrified that the latex gloves the tattooist wore would tear and there would be an accident. Drea had attributed it to low pain tolerance. Soon as it was done Rogue accepted the travel sized tub of Vaseline tossing 30 bucks on the table and ran out the door crying in relief and continued as she steered her truck north piled with all the belongings she could manage before the cops came. Trading it for the Harley once she'd gotten to New York. Like Jakob's, only his had been black, hers was red. Hers was also in front of the damned pool hall. "Fuck"
"You shouldn't talk like that, darlin', ya sound like trailer trash." Rogue looked up slowly. Boots. Worn Levi's. Big fucking belt buckle. Flannel and leather. Mutton chops. and an oilskin hat. Logan.
"Fuck." Rogue stumbled back.
"Healing factor should've cleaned out what ever that fat shit put in your drink. The fact it hasn't is a shit load of bad." Rogue only half listened as another wave of vertigo rose. "I'll take you back to Xavier's, figure out what's wrong." Rogue didn't answer, Logan barely caught her before her head struck the ground.
12
"The compound is actually derived from the reproductive spores of Psiloaybe Semilanceata-"
"What?"
"Magic mushrooms, Logan." Ororo spoke before gesturing for the professor to continue.
"Thank you, now the ingestion of these mushrooms induces a euphoric condition which would render someone more pliable to someone else's commands, leading them to do things they might otherwise not participate in."
"Especially if the person is dealing them to you. I found a prescription bottle on her counter. Looks like Darkholme's using medication as a cover. Rogue's not the kinda person who'd go looking for professional help on her own." Logan said looking up from under the brim of an oil skin hat.
"Indeed, now in addition to the Psiloaybe I found equal amounts of narcotic."
"If those were mixed together in the same pill, then the narcotic would insure continual use."
"Correct, Ororo. Now if we only had actual samples to test further..." Xavier trailed off turning to Logan. He took his cue and rose from his seat withdrawing three yellow pills from his pocket and depositing them on he desk. Prof shook his head with a small smile at the other man's assiduousness. Logan absently wondered if it was a good thing that the professor expected him to steal Rogue's medication. Shrugging he resumed his seat.
"But, Professor, if Rogue has been taking these pills for an extended period of time then why now have they shown ill effects?"
"Good question, now the test conducted on her hair sample shows that she's been taking these regularly for at least five months. That would coincide with her arrival in New York. And seem to make are assumptions on Ms. Darkholme more solid. Now for the cause of Rogue's black out, she does participate in recreational drug use particularly LSD and other hallucinogens, among others. Now certain amounts of these chemicals are stored in the spinal fluid sometimes for the rest of one's life, causing periodic flash backs as it were. Now Logan, when you allowed Rogue access to your power, your healing factor moved to cleanse these toxins from her body releasing them into the blood stream. Unfortunately the factor began to fade before they could properly filter through her kidneys. It simple shocked her system"
"She over dosed?" Logan looked up with a heavy frown the cheroot in his mouth bobbing.
"Not exactly and with much luck. She simply shut down in order for her body to heal more. She'll be fine, now Logan is the only reason you allowed Rogue to absorb you because of the drug the man slipped her?"
Logan stared him straight in the face. "Yeah, Chuck, she was pretty wobbly." Xavier nodded.
"Alright, now if you'll both excuse me I have some more pressing matters to attend to." Ororo and Logan rose leaving the office. Xavier reached across the desk and scooped the canary yellow tablets into his hand. "Why drug a teenage girl? What are you planning Mystique?"
13
Rogue awoke to a lazy start, unfolding herself from her curled position. The room was almost the same size as the whole of her apartment. Furnished in mahogany and dark green. Expensive. All of it. Shit. The tall window was shrouded in hunter curtains. The sun's light formed a cornea around the rectangle. Sheets in the same dark thick fabric covered her on the bed. A matching overstuffed chair under an ornate reading lamp stood next to a mahogany book case. At first the wallpaper seemed to be made of cream and gold, though it's colour still made the room dark, though upon closer inspection of the wall behind her head, Rogue realized it wasn't wallpaper but hand painted.
Logan had brought her to Xavier's. Hairy bastard. Hairy bastard with the tight jeans... "Fuck" Rogue bolted upright mind frantically trying to assess the situation swinging her legs over the side of the bed and instantly startled at the surprisingly large drop to the floor. Rogue looked back at the bed. It was unnecessarily high like the antique beds that had been at the Nottingway way plantation she and Irene had visited the previous year in Louisiana. Scowling at the memory of abandonment Rogue turned stubbing her toe on the small stepping stool next to the bed capped with the same rich green as the rest of the room. Ignoring the slight bleeding from under her toe nail as she made her way to the heavy door. Reaching an ungloved hand out to the nickel handle and found it locked. Uttering a string of curses and not finding anything capable of picking the thick looking lock. Moving to another door that almost escaped her notice next to the mammoth dresser, she twisted it smiling in relief as she heard the hammer click and the knob begin to turn. The smile disappeared as she found out what lay beyond the sturdy wood. Throwing herself against it in a failed attempt to shut the door she was quickly slammed onto the ground as Logan pushed the door open and stepped through.
"Yer awake" he noted, a lit cigar propped between his teeth. Rogue jumped up quickly fetching her composure. Choler burning in grey green eyes. Rogue turned on her heel walking over to the vanity that held what had been in her pockets during her run from Logan. Blushing, Rogue frowned in embarrassment as she realized someone had undressed her as she found her clothes neatly folded and perched on the vanity seat still warm from the dryer. Looking down at herself she discovered her new attire, pale blue pajama bottoms and a white tank top. 'What'd ah do? Fall inta the Gap?' fumbling with the half crushed cigarette box she found and undiscovered joint. Lighting it with the plastic lighter she turned to him taking a large drag allowing the sticky sweet flavour to move down her throat coating it like syrup. Exhaling deliberately in his face.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you to just say no to drugs?"
"I did, they just never listened." Logan smiled at that remark, Rogue was still tensed despite the calming effect the weed was taking.
"You still up to that breakfast?" Rogue's stomach answered for her. Blushing and covering her stomach unconsciously she nodded. "Good, after we'll go get your bike from the bar. We need to talk anyway, get yerself dressed kid" Turning around to allow her at least that amount of privacy. Rogue took another drag off the dry paper of the joint and snuffed it between callused finger tips placing it on the vanity, before picking up the folded clothing. Glancing back at the locked door and then at the open one that seemed to lead into Logan's own bedroom. Rogue's mouth dropped in a little O at the meaning conveyed in that, casting an unsure look at Logan , who was still puffing on his cheroot with his broad back still pulled towards her. Guessing going out the window was an impossibility she resided to pulling on her now cleaned jeans and long sleeved shirt. At the sound of her zipper Logan turned fishing out a pair of black cotton gloves from his jacket tossing them at her. "Jean left you some flip flops, they're over there." gesturing with his cigar he pointed to the bright orange throngs that had some how managed to fit her tiny feet. "Let's go, I don't wanna have to wait for a damned booth. " He then fished out a tiny nickel plated key fitting into the lock opened the door then planted the key in her now glove shrouded hand. Rogue followed mutely.
14
Logan watched on in amusement as Rogue shoveled ketchup drenched homefries past cupid bow lips.
"Better than Spaghettios, huh kid?" Rogue looked up, grey green eyes widening blushing at her hunger.
"Ah, um, sometimes forget to eat," she responded now only pushing potatoes around with the bent fork. The tomato sauce began to separate and form small oily yellow pools.
"Why?" Rogue looked up again surprised by the question, the consonance of the diner seemed to pitch an octave higher then and a big haired waitress appeared next to them. Logan's nose squinched at the odor of hairspray and bleach.
"You or your sister want anything else?" a New England brogue slurred her speech like sticky chowder. Logan grunted a negative and 'Lisa' disappeared into the throng of people occupying the restaurant inclining another side-glance at Rogue, who shifted uncomfortably in the faux leather booth.
"How'd ya end up with Adler?" he asked frowning as she jumped slightly as people passed her on the way to the bathroom. Her small hands, ungloved to eat, evanesce into the long sleeves of her shirt.
"She adopted me," Rogue answered seemingly fascinated by the rising bubbles of carbonation in her drink as they ruptured on the surface with minor pops.
"No shit, kid, why were you put up for adoption?" Rogue looked up yet again the pupils of her chartreuse oculi dilating. She managed a feminine snort as a cigarette appeared seemingly effortlessly in her right hand, canvassing him through sooted lashes. Rogue arched her back allowing access to her wallet she hadn't had the foresight to remove the previous day only to doff a decrepit piece of folded paper, tasseled and yellow, and tossing it across the table at Logan. Picking it up and attempting to dry the magazine page off from landing in the small water puddle before it permanently warped the fiber. The image was of a nude woman, spread out and smiling at the camera. The makeup artist had failed to completely cover the track marks on her arms, the cakey yellow mismatched with the woman's nearly deathly pale skin. She competed with Rogue for thinness but lacked the trademark bolt through chestnut hair. Rogue's face favored the woman's. Slightly feral, strong cheekbones, pale as veal, antique features.
"That's mah momma," Rogue whispered flushing again through a coalesce of shame and anguish still not facing him. Logan flipped the Playboy center fold over to view the newspaper clipping stapled underneath. "Trevor was her boyfriend. Beat the shit out of her, stole her stash. We didn't have a phone so I couldn't get help right away" Rogue burned again at the slight comfort that the abusive woman was dead. "It's not like the fat fucks that call themselves cops would have done anything. We wouldn't have been able to handle the hospital bill anyways." She swiped stubbornly at the tears begin to trail. "By then Grand Mary was already dead so the state handed me over to Rennie." Logan did the math in his head while looking at the date on the clipping. She'd been 12. Jesus Christ. A familiar upwash of grief flooded her once again and Rogue obstinately grabbed for a new cigarette attempting to ignore the salt sting in her eyes. "Guess Raven wasn't much better than the other 'Mothers' huh?"
"Then maybe ya don't need a mother. you could just need a friend." She remained silent a moment before her hand came up to her temple, rubbing the sensitive pressure point. "You okay?"
"Mah head hurts" Logan nodded folding the portrait and Mississippi news clip heralding the violent murder of Evangeline Draven; unmarried, mother of one.
"The narcotic, you're hitting withdrawal. Come on we'll get your bike and I'll help you pack." Logan signaled for the check, pleased at him self how convincing her to stay with them at the mansion. With him.
Once seated in the truck, Rogue turned looking Logan in the eye cautiously. "The others, they eh don't know about mah cuttin mahself do they?" She asked abominating their glances as Logan and she walked out the front door. Especially the sad smile Scott forced and infallible Jean as they passed.
"No," the statement eased her chagrin only to be replaced by her shyness at the conclusion of the comment, " I'm the one that changed you" unable to help laughing at her innate modesty, "Don't worry, kid, ain't nothing I haven't seen or had before" Rogue twisted abruptly to face the road ahead turning the full spectrum between pink and red.
"What the hell?" she demanded as they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. Multi coloured lights and officers dazzled the asphalt. Drug busts were common in this neighborhood, but not fire fighters parading through Rogue's apartment trailing a snake like hose. "Fuck."
15
Rogue turned in slow circles surveying the ravished room, Logan watched on sadly as she examined the remains of her home. The fire hadn't destroyed the apartment like it was meant too, really only localized to the centre of the place, but smoke and heat had ruined most of her belonging. The looming figures on her posters were scorched brown and peeling around the edges. The small forest of faeries and mushrooms she'd created on the floor, were now warped, the pewter bent and the gossamer wings singed away. A good portion of the room was displaced. Someone had been looking for something. Informing Rogue of as much she weakly nodded and continued her rummaging.
The cursory ransacking of the apartment and the scent confirmation lead to Lance and Todd. "Quake and Slimey did this, kid, what were they looking for?" Rogue twisted away from the broken lip of her sink basin to face him.
"Ah don't know," she responded shakily. "Money Ah guess, Lance always smokes more than he sells. He'd have to make up the difference somewhere" unconvinced but letting it go Logan allowed her to continue her search, before she pushed past him and hit her knees reaching underneath the now hole ridden cot, pulling out a fire scorched metal lunchbox and sitting on the ground to peruse the contents she popped the lid with a resistant grind. She smiled apparently the contents remained unscathed.
"What's in there darlin?" Her smile faltered slightly and she looked up culpably.
"Nuttin' just pictures." She held up a Polaroid of a her and purple haired boy as proof. He nodded and gave a scorched pair of jeans a little kick. Rogue slapped the lid shut and tucked it under her arm before walking up to the vanity that still stood sturdily.
Irene's photo was blistered and ash crumbling in soft chunks as they fell between her fingers. The rosary was remarkably undamaged, soot wiping away under her gloves to reveal the crystal beads underneath. An open tube of lips stick had melted leaving a waxy coat in 'Vampire Wine' across the wood. Several vials of nail polish, Rogue's personal indulgence, had shattered in the search and burned those areas worse than others. A film from the several extinguishers used had formed across much of the vanity, blurring her image in the mirror. Giving her water drenched clothing that had been pulled out of her dresser a dissatisfied look. They were burnt beyond reproach. turning t Logan she spoke again.
"Ah think Ah have a load in the laundry room, lemme go get Ah'll meet ya in the truck." Nodding Logan allowed Rogue passage and followed her out leaving the door open.
Pulling the last of the now wrinkled clothing into a crack plastic basket, Rogue dropped it and stood stiffly at the density change in the cramped laundry room. "Logan?" Her voice lulled over the word, readying herself to kick. Her neighbors were less than gentlemen.
"Please tell me you aren't shacked up with that ill bred heathen." Rogue twisted around to face the next betrayal after her skin. Raven Darkholme.
"Get outta mah way, Raven" Darkholme raised a curious brow at the subtle disrespect by being addressed in such a casual manner. Momma was a whore, didn't mean she couldn't be a lady. Now wasn't the time for prim and proper Rogue reminded herself.
"I heard about the fire, I came to make sure you are alright. I have already prepared a guest room in my apartment for you." Already? The preparation spoke to affirm Logan's assumptions. Swallowing her disappointment at the surrogate mother she spoke, voice losing all traces of moonlight and magnolias*.
"Ya the one who told them to do it."
"Nonsense, child why would I do that? I sent them to fetch you. I know Irene Adler sent you a letter." Her faded German accent peering through with the pronunciation of Irene's full name. " She left it with you to give to me." Rogue's mind flittered back to the lunchbox on top of the dryer, but refused the urge to look at it, instead cocking her hip to the right and arching a manicured brow.
"And why not just send it directly to you?"
"To let you know she was alive. She has not seen you since the manifestation of your gifts." Rogue nearly laughed at it being termed so pleasantly. "She also knew you would know how to help me interpret them. Irene scant understands the things she sees unless it involves her directly. But you know this." Rogue's mind briefly recounted events of walking in on the blind woman in the middle of a vision. Once while in the bathroom and demanding Rogue give the blind woman lipstick to write down what she saw on the floor. Rogue didn't use that bathroom after that.
"Then why drug me?"
"The medication is for your mind Rogue. We've discussed this. Don't they help?"
"Quite fuckin around. Ah know what's in them" Mystique's genial guise dropped as she face slithered back into her true self. "What do ya want from me?"
"What every mother wants for their children." Rogue wasn't expecting that one. Pulling her defiant posture straight she narrowed near gray eyes at her.
"What?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
Rogue shook her head furiously. "No, mah momma was-"
"Who? That insipid slut Evangline? Come now child, do you honestly believe one who indulged herself so would have given birth to a live child? Especially while in a little shack in the middle of a bloody swamp?" Rogue's mind stepped back again this time to the memories of her mother's drug paraphernalia and two miscarriages at 6 and 11.
"But..."
"She had a child yes, but the stupid bastard was dead the minute it's deformed head hit the floor." Rogue's clutched at her own stomach at the recollection of a blood stain that had soiled the carpet of their house. Sepia black and smelling slightly. "Believe me I was there, girl" Evangeline never let her forget the pain her birth had caused her. Had even tried to inflict equal amounts back onto an 8 year old Rogue as penance with a branch. Her back still carried faint trace scars.
"Irene found someone who looked enough like you would, to pass. You'd been a premature birth." Raven paused a soft smile played her lips. "2lbs, 3oz. Even then you were a strong little thing. By then you were a month old and big enough to pass for an average sized baby."
"Y-you left me with that woman?" Rogue croaked at the thought someone would willingly leave her with someone like Evangeline.
" I did it to hide you from Magneto" She allowed a moment of absorption before continuing. "When the stupid wench died, I ensured you were placed with Irene" Mystique's visage shimmered again. Red hair becoming blonde and eyes Cajun black.
"Josette?" Rogue whimpered. The woman who'd come for occasional visits with Irene in Rogue's five year stay with her. Every time insisting she play the piano for them and giving an unapproving look when she learned Rogue's interests had turned to the guitar. 'undignified' she had called it. That had all been Mystique spying? Too much. Too, too much. "No.." Rogue twisted and knocked the lunchbox on top of the clothes and bolted out the door. Throwing the basket in first and climbing up into Logan's pickup.
Looking over at the shaking girl and catching a whiff. "She's here," Rogue choked out. "Drive please, drive" Logan nodded flicking the nub of a cigar out the window and doing as she asked.
16
Four days after the confrontation with Darkholme, Rogue sat perched in the over stuffed chair next to the book case. One leg draped over the arm, vainly trying to concentrate on Brite's Wormwood. Still unable to placate the feelings arisen by Mystique's revelation and even less accepting of her self. Looking away from the text to the window. Dark clouds had begun to pervade the purple sky giving the appearance of white paint being poured into water. The horizon looked angry. Rogue distantly wondered if something was bothering Storm.
Her attention twisted away from the dark scene and came to meet with her own reflection in the vanity mirror.
Those weren't Evangeline's eyes. Those weren't Evangeline's features. She wasn't Evangeline's daughter. A mixture of relief and resentment rose through her system. The concept was still foreign, but the betrayal was fresh as ever. Once again contemplating picking up the original plan of heading for New Orleans she closed the book dog earring her page. Jakob's friend was a mutant, she'd spoken to him just after the funeral. He'd come to pay his respects. Mutant. That was her first thought as he removed his shades and kissed her gloved hand. Handsome too. He reassured her that the invitation was still open before leaving. Rogue's thoughts fluttered to the square of rice paper that was stained with his address and number.
Rogue's thoughts became interrupted by the awareness of someone else in the room. Her head snapped up to the door that connected to Logan's to find the man standing next to the bed post. By now she'd become accustomed to his lack of knocking and smiled in spite of herself.
"I got you something." Rogue stood and crossed the floor to him and accepted the wad of newspaper. "Sorry about the shitty wrapping" he threw in a cocky grin.
"Coulda been worse. At least it's not used toilet paper" pulling away the grey and black material to reveal a porcelain creature that resembled a demonic angel. A lavender hue almost made the statuette glow. Large black wings spread out from the it's back, head bent slightly looking up with small tips of fangs revealed. Morbid. Beautiful.
"I knew you liked faeries, but I couldn't find any, I thought that was pretty close." Tearing her eyes away from the gothic creature at the fact that he'd gone shopping. He looked almost shy. "Since your collection got ruined."
"Thank ya, it's nice" apparently content in himself he moved forward as Rogue turned to place the gift on the dresser, turning back to face him his hand came up to cup the side of her face. The suede of his glove bristled across her skin. Mouth parted and brows furrowed "Whs-?"
"You're welcome, how's your head?" The headaches she'd suffered for sometime had only begun to intensified in the last few days, heightened by being cut off from Mystique's medication.
"Still hurts a little" she managed meekly as his other hand came up to hold the other side of her face as well, massaging her temples with his thumbs, and backing her into the mahogany dresser with a small rattle. "Ah-" she choked looking up at him her own height only reaching his collarbone. Bracing her hands on the furniture behind her as he moved one knee between her thighs. Closing her eyes and absorbing the contact, only to have green orbs flash open at the wet sensation that darted across her lower lip. His tongue traced up to the cupid bow of her top lip before slipping back into his mouth and smiling at her. Thumbs still kneading her flesh, closing her eyes again and bringing her own hand up to caress his chest, growling lowly in approval, Logan pulled his right hand behind her head to rub the base of her neck. Craning into the movement Rogue released a whimper as he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. Her hands began to roam as Logan's left hand came to her breast then both hands under her arms to heft her onto the dresser with a small bump and squeal before resuming his ministrations. Leaning up to brush her wax coated lips across his chastely, she was rewarded with a low chuckle. Pulling back and blushing at him, "Wha-?"
"That's not how you kiss darlin," Logan said into her ear, groping for the gauze scarf that was draped on the peg of the dresser's mirror and pressing the azure fabric to her face fully intent on demonstrating a proper kiss as she nipped playfully at his chin. Pressing her face with his own, the light stubble and gauze itched across her skin and lips. Grinning further at her change in scent as he coaxed her mouth open, a hand dropping down to rub the juncture of her thigh and hip. Rogue groaned into the unfamiliar sensations as his hands wandered further.
"Rogue? You wanna come to dinner?" Jean Grey's voice was dulled through the heavy wood of the door. Still eliciting a startled jump from Rogue and a rather disappointed growl from Logan.
"Damn kids" Rogue neglected to remind him that she was a year younger than Jean. Jumping down and blushing furiously as she straightened the black cotton of her long sleeves and ignoring the brush of a hand across her rear as Logan pushed past her and disappeared through his own door.
"Rogue? You awake?"
"Yeah, whatever, Ah'll be there in a minute," Rogue called out still focused on Logan who smirked as he shut the door.
17
Polliwogs. There were polliwogs squirming with in the small confines of her skull. They wiggled and shook, and began to drip down her spinal column. Some splattering on her tongue others slithered down her throat splashing into the pool of blood she imagined filled her chest cavity. They swam in and out of her ribs taking chunks of meat as they churned.
Rogue's hands came up to cradle her head as retching sobs spilled forth from her mouth. The tadpoles now moved into her veins and she could see their black heads crawl beneath pale skin, their thin tails whipped and tickled her fingertips.
She needed to get them out before they ate her all up. She went for her vanity sobbing in success as she found a eye pencil sharpener and broke the white plastic, removing the now free razor blade and began peeling small slivers of skin away from her arms. Pushing across her forearm in an attempt to drive them from her flesh.
Her chemical induced thoughts became more rapid. How did they get here? They must have swum in when she was swimming in the lake. This was all Scott's fault. He's the one that wanted her to go swimming with her. Just them. And he'd been so nice, who couldn't abide? She could feel the dark little beasts pluck away her meat and she couldn't help but fall on the ground damning the tears in her jeans that allowed her knees to be rug burned as they scrubbed across the carpet.
Damned her jeans. Damn Evangeline, damn Irene, damn Scott for convincing her to go swimming.
Rogue was now shaking violently, teeth smashing together as she dropped the razor and bringing her hands up once again to hold her head.
Crawling into the corner next to the nightstand, her eyes came to rest on the painting above the fire place. The archaic woman scowled down on her the cacti that stood next to her swayed like sea anemones.
"Oh, gawd" her head dipped down to view the fringes of her jeans that twisted out from the denim that clad the lower half of her svelte body. The tendrils pulled away from the jeans and began to web and claw their way across her skin and floor. Grey green eyes ripped away upwards to the mirror to see the glassy surface expel drippy silver orbs from it's cold being. The orbs drifted slowly across the room and splashed down shattering as if an unseen fist smashed them.
She realized she'd knocked over a stack of CDs Kurt had been burning for her.
She wished she could protract to when this would all be over.
18
Logan came through the door after she knocked over the CDs. Rogue was crouched under a mammoth poster of Trent Reznor. Bits of chewy severed tissue was scattered around her accompanied by the tool she'd used.
"Fuck," crossing the distance and knelling before the quivering mass of girl. The pupil of her chartreuse eyes were swollen as if soaked in Belladonna. Glitter dappled her face and remnants of the makeup she'd worn to the concert were trailing down her face in angry smudges marked her face.
"They're under mah skin" Rogue whispered pleadingly.
"What?" Confused, Logan lifted her to her feet by her arms. "What's going on, darlin?" Shit. He couldn't deal with a teenager breaking down, especially this one. Storm was acting as chaperone for the other students on vacation in Palm Beach and the Professor was still in DC for the Rights Conference. Fuck. This was far from good.
She was sitting again swatting at her arms, sobbing.
"Shut up, please?" damnit he knew Xavier should have tried to clear her mind. Too many people. Not enough space. "Do you think they'll eat me all up?" She asked looking at him crying still. "What would they put in the grave then?" She was walking on the balls of her feet, hidden by the flare of her jeans hem, only to fall over when her shuttering increased.
"Rogue, darlin', what did you take?" no response came, she was now curled in a foetal position. Crouching down again, "Come on kid, I need to know so I can fix this." She opened her eyes through the net of hair that obscured her face.
"Gwen gave them to me, but *they're* here now and they had to have been before, cause Ah went swimming and they got in it's just Ah only now know they-"
"Gwen gave you what?" Gwen was a pink haired mutant Rogue knew outside of her school. Logan made a mental note to shred her. Rogue tried to sit up, knees drawn in and poking through the tears in the old jeans. He reached over to rub her cheek. " Do you know what's going on? Can you tell me?"
"Ah want mah motha" she stated through phlemey sobs, "But she don't want me"
"Hey, come one kid." He gathered her up without protest, "She doesn't but I do"
"Promise?" he blinked realizing what he'd said.
"Yeah, I do, now do you know how to fix this?" She shook her head against his chest.
"Cold" she whimpered.
"Okay," he pulled her up onto the high bed with little trouble. Then turned off the lamp before following her in. She was curled facing him in the dark.
"Can you swim?" she asked.
"What the hell kinda question is that?"
"It's so dark, we'll drown and I can't remember how." The scariest part he thought was that she was serious.
"The bed'll float he rumbled back and received a swift nod before falling asleep.
19
The position he woke in the next morning had to uncomfortable for her. Legs tucked up to her chest and upper torso twisted straight by his own arrangement that reached across her chest with a possessively heavy arm pinning her small fist to the pillow beside her head.
Disengaging himself from her after a slow awakening, meant to prolong his comfort, he stood and the bed bounced at the absence of a metal heavy skeleton. The movement began to rose Rogue from her own soft slumber as he crossed to the dresser.
The statuette he'd given her stood vigil at the end of the dark wood furniture piece. A crystal and silver rosary was draped about it's feral body and wings like Mardi Gras beads on a prostitute. He began opening the drawers with fervor and peeking under clothes before slamming them shut.
"What the hell are ya doin?" She was awake now and balanced on her knees with the blanket wrapped around her petite form, studying him.
"Where are they?" He demanded and she blanched.
"Wha-?"
"The drugs ,Rogue" he called as he moved to the vanity opening compacts and checking in her jewelry box before finding the metal lunch box. Dumping the contents unceremoniously on the floor and pushing through the money, photos and papers until he isolated the scent he was after. Holding up a small plastic baggy with two sugar cubes in it. He could smell the chemicals that had been dripped onto them under the saccharine aroma.
"Are these what you took last night?" He was angry. That much was obvious.
After a meek nod he proceeded in picking up an Altoid tin before moving to her back pack and withdrawing a Tic Tac container filled with a myriad of brightly coloured pills.
"Come on," he growled. Rogue was scared now and didn't move. Grabbing her by the wrist harshly and ripping her off the bed. Rogue fell hitting her knees and screaming at the pain induced, but Logan continued to drag her into the bathroom.
Throwing the drugs onto the counter top and rummaging through the medicine cabinet. In a house full of teens, someone was bound to get nicked somewhere. Purposely selecting the iodine instead of the peroxide he yanked her arm towards the sink examining the new tissue missing amongst the previous scars.
"The fact I haven't told the others about you fucking yourself up doesn't mean I've forgotten." He spat as he poured the dark brown fluid over the still open wounds.
"Jesus, fuck!" she screamed trying to pull away put he held fast knocking her against the counter top.
"You're stopping this shit. You really think everyone's going to be this nice when you freak out like last night?"
"Nice? Bull fucking shit" she finally succeed in wrenching her hand away from Logan.
"The next one'll probably fuck you raw, girl, you think your skin'll protect you? Trust me darlin', there's ways around that." Her eyes spread wide and he knocked the door shut to prevent her escape. "This stops now" Logan pushed her into the tub, momentarily regretful as he heard her head smack against the tile wall above the bath tub and the dizzy look that fell over her eyes. It cleared and she flared in choler, but didn't move. Logan dumped the sugar cubes into the toilet, instantly beginning to dissolve. Cracking open the pill capsules to allow their power to sprinkle into the stale water and crushing others before flushing the load away. "Get up and get dressed, we'll go get breakfast"
20
She sat in front of him shoveling homefries into her mouth. Her face cleansed and a fresh coat of liner applied to her eyes and her lips glossy with pigment. A black lycra tank top was under a long sleeved green gauze shirt, a pair of jeans with overly wide legs was her choice of out fit today, short little leather gloves sat on the table beside her plate. Logan examined her as he ate his own meal of cornbeef hash.
"How was that concert last night?" He asked, Rogue looked up at the question still chewing. Apparently she was hungry, he thought as she scooped another bite before answering.
"It was Deftones," she said flatly.
He raised an unscrupulous brow. "And?"
"It was great." He nodded and left it at that. "So where is he?"
"Who?"
"You're son. Ah remember that from when you made me absorb you" She dusted some pepper onto the potatoes and eggs.
"Japan."
She nodded, though a frown marred her pale features. "Doncha think he might like to know his papa?"
Logan's frown deepened. "He's older than you, he don't need me interfering."
"How do you know that? Do you even know him? What would you know about what he'd want? Do you even know what his favorite colour is?"
"What's yours?" he asked, noting the way she sat. Shoulders back, head straight.
"Pardon?"
"Your favorite colour." He repeated.
"Ah like purple." another bite of food, sip of soda.
"Those Deaf people your favorite band?"
"Deftones" she corrected. Bite of eggs then a puff and flick of her cigarette. "And no, Ah like Nine Inch Nails betta, but Tori Amos is my favorite pianist."
"She any good?"
"Ah wouldn't like her if she wasn't. You never answered my question though"
''It ain't your business" Rogue flinched slightly at that.
"Ah just never knew mah daddy, and Ah think Ah mighta liked to of, don't you think he might of liked to know you?"
"I saw him last year." Rogue looked up. "He didn't much wanna see me, so I left it at that." Rogue nodded regretting bringing up the subject. "You can honestly say that you'd want to see the dumb bastard that got your mother pregnant?" She looked up at him again, her face twisted up sadly. "Jesus, kid I didn't mean it like that kid. I just meant that he abandoned you and your mother in the swamp and didn't do anything afterwards. A real pump and dump."
"Yes, Ah would actually, Ah'd wanna know why the hell he didn't do anything if he knew how and who mah momma was and why he didn't at least put me up for adoption if he didn't want me."
"Liar." He grinned at her, "You'd wanna punch him. Hard too."
She laughed then, a crystalline sound but still husky from a smoking habit begun at an early age. "After Ah got mah answer, yeah" She laughed again and ordered a slice of cheesecake.
"So who's your favorite band?"
21
Raven Darkholme stared through her black rimmed glasses at the girl in the opposite chair, the over stuffed chair dwarfing her already small frame.
"I'd like to congratulate you on the publication. I'm quite proud." Smooth, professional, but there was an urgency for Rogue to believe her. The girl remained reticent, so Darkholme continued as the girl examined the multitude of jelly bracelets spangled from her wrist. "I read the stories, they're rather good, though macabre" Raven gestured to the hard back copy of Borderland's 11. It was a yearly publication show casing the year's best horror fiction. Rogue had been excepted for two of her short stories. " You have a gift, dear one."
"Ah ain't here about that" Rogue finally spoke.
Raven nodded sipping her Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. "I assumed as much. What it you need, daughter?"
"Who is he?"
Raven's expression passed as clueless. "Who's who?"
"Mah fathah, you said you left me with Evangeline to protect me from Magneto. Why not just leave me with him instead?" She paused as a new thought form in her mind. "Or does he even know about me?"
Raven took another sip of the strong brew thoughtfully, it's redolent flavor stung bitterly at Rogue's nose. "He does not know of you and that is best, he also has definite connections to Eric."
"If that's all true than why'd you tell Magneto about you being mah momma at all?"
"Because the time was right, and I wanted to know you."
"You mean you wanted those papers Irene sent."
Raven put the cup down with unnecessary force and a water fall of dark fluid poured on to the desk.
"Why is it so hard for you to believe I care?"
"17 years of you not being there!" Rogue cried out despite the new fact that she'd been there at various times, disguised as Josette, as if tapping through her train of thought Raven spoke again,
"You know you were rather marvelous at the piano, I had Irene record you playing once. I listened to it over and over til it wore out and broke, I'd asked Irene for another but you had already abandoned playing for that other wretched instrument." The guitar. Jakob had been teaching her in his attic. Rogue stilled, her focus dragging past he knees her black skirt bore and to the knee high Doc Martian's peeking just above them. The left one was untied but she made no move to adjust.
"Ah can understand making sure Irene got me, but Ah don't understand Evangeline and why ya found me now if Magneto's so dangerous"
"Evangeline, as regrettable as the situation was, prepared you as well as kept you away from Eric."
"Prepared me fo' what?" Choler raised in her voice as gloriously green eyes dilated.
"For life" Raven said as if that was explanation enough. "You are very well capable of caring for yourself, and do not give your trust freely, venerable qualities, dear daughter."
The threat of tears scorched Rogue's sinuses and quivered her lip. "Do you know there were week's when all I had was a jar of peanut butter? I had to ration it out until Evangeline's dealer left town or one of her tricks bought me dinner to keep me quiet. And there were times when Ah was really sick and she wouldn't take me to tha doctor cause she was afraid he'd realize she was high. Do you know that she beat the living shit out of me everyday because Ah'd 'Ruined her liagh'?" Rogue stood and was now visibly shaking. "Did you know that when Ah found her dead, Ah laughed before Ah cried? This ain't a damned soap opera, now tell me who the fuck is mah fathah?" Rogue flinched as she felt her nails bend and break as they burrowed into her flesh. Had she looked down at her palms, she'd find weeping crescents with small slivers of black nail polish.
"Xavier" Darkholme said trying to remain philometric.
Rogue's eyes grew wide and she fled, ignoring a gap faced Jean Grey out side the door as she pushed her way to her Harley at full gate.
Jean crumpled the principal meeting pass in her hand and tossed it in the trash before running to find Scott.
22
"Are you sure that you heard it all correctly?" Scott Summers stared at Jean with what would be incredulous eyes behind his visor. Jean Grey nodded furiously.
"I think that Darkholme's Rogue's mother, that maybe that's why she's been isolating herself from us." Jean persisted, clawing at carmine tresses that whipped at her face in the wind of the school's courtyard. The gust carrying with it the ammonia residue from last night's dye job. Scott refused the impulse to wrinkle his nose at the odor. Jean's accusations and the elan she explained them with stroked a flame of malaise in Scott.
"Yeah, but the Prof and Darkholme? Not likely."
"Not likely, yes, but not entirely impossible, think about it Scott, they've known each other a long time, how are we to know if we can trust that?"
"You're basing all of this on a conversation you were eavesdropping on, maybe you heard her wrong" Scott was trying to reason, he liked Rogue and the idea she could be involved in something that could hurt her like that was worrying to say the least, she was a good kid with a shit deal in life, but Scott felt he was slowly making her come around, at least with him, they'd even gone to a punk show at The Chili Pepper, a small club in Bayville that often featured local bands, they'd had fun, she even smiled a couple of times, so if what Jean was suggesting is true than that could only mean more hurt. Scott for one didn't fancy Rogue going through any of that again. Scott Summers took care of his friends.
Jean's conspiracy theories drove deeper as what had once been speculation over something turned into outright slander of the often saturine girl.
"And think about it Scott, she's always lurking around like she has something to hide, and I bet she's some kind of drug addict, and I've heard rumors that she sleeps around, and-" Scott cut her off with a warning hand.
"Jean, will you listen to yourself? The girl tucks tail and runs if someone tries to hug her, I highly doubt she would sleep around, and how could she with a mutation like that? And to top it off that stupid rumor was started by Geoffrey Richer the whose nose she broke her first day here because he slapped her ass. You're becoming worse than a tabloid hound." Jean's utterly infallible persona crumpled at Scott's discredit. At first Jean had really wanted to try and be friends with Rogue, but the girl was completely non-responsive to her attempts. Eventually Jean had degraded her to bitch status, and deemed unlikable.
"Yeah, but, but, what if Darkholme is Rogue's mother?"
"And what if the Prof is her father? That's a poor basis for argument Jean, and you know it. Look, class is going to start soon I'll see you later." With that Scott turned towards the Sussex Building and into AP Literature, only to be confronted by Rogue's empty desk next to his.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Dedicated to Dark Ferret who's story 'Basic Needs' is extraordinary and is highly recommended and also follows the Evolution time phase. Hurry up with the sequel gal!