I wake up every morning with images of a family and places I don’t know, and at night, when I go to sleep, he’s there. I don’t know if the memories are real, but I can feel his touch. I know all of his desires and all of his fears, but what about the most intimate details? I see my skin burning bright red as I sway beneath him. I see my body from his perspective, and there is undeniable lust. I see his body as if it were my own, a hand stroking his most prized possession, breathing labored and erratic. I see a pool of liquid, a cage, and men. I see bloody sweat in my eyes as the bitter cold of the Canadian wilderness lashes at my naked frame. I see blood dripping from my hands and claws extended. I see the faces of a hundred women, thriving with pleasure. There are faces of a thousand men, writhing with pain.
There’s a man, tall and blonde. He smiles at me lovingly and his touch is tender. I hear screams of pain, and there are flashes of light. I fight countless villains. I sip coffee at an outdoor café, a different man sitting across from me. I’m a bridesmaid. A lover. A CEO. A heroine.
It has been a week since I woke up in the med lab. The Professor has worked with me rigorously, and I’ve actually started to weed out some of my own memories, things that happened months and years ago. He sensed my hesitation with Logan, and he advised me that I should keep away from him. There’s too much history with Carol, and he could hurt me. I’m not scared of him, but I’m kind of glad I have an excuse to avoid him. Snapping out of a spasm and finding that he’s got me pinned to the floor was unpleasant. Besides, this whole situation has to be hard on him, too. An old flame shows up in my head, and suddenly I’m trying to seduce him every five minutes.
The students scatter like sewer rats when they see me. The only ones being nice are, surprisingly, Bobby, Kitty, and Jubilee. I guess you could say that we’ve made peace, because, well, I’m not so heartbroken or bitter anymore. I’ve got bigger things to worry about. And, a lot of changes happened while I was gone. Romantic ones. Kitty fell hard for Pete, and Bobby was pissed for a while. Then, Alison showed up, and he got over the jilted lover thing really quickly. He has some competition with that Angel guy, though. Storm has a boyfriend, and it’s really weird to see her in love. I was taking a walk yesterday, and I saw her on the veranda watering the roses. A rather attractive man, who goes by “Forge”, approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Storm smile like that. I felt like I was watching my parents, though.
There’s another guy, named Bishop, who Jubilee goes weak in the knees for. But, apparently, he’s more interested in Tessa, another newbie. Well, to me at least. She’s really nice, and I think she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. She’s like a walking computer. She sat in on one of my sessions with Professor Xavier, and I found out that she has the ability to analyze information really quickly, even DNA. She can repair the mutant gene and make it go from dormant to hyperactive. That’s how Logan and Remy managed to survive.
Remy’s become quite the charmer. He’s taken to doing card tricks for the younger kids, and charging their textbooks so they explode, which pisses Scott off to no end. I worked up the courage to speak to Remy, and I apologized for sucking the life out of him. He gave me the most swoon-worthy smile and said there were no hard feelings. He told me that he followed Mystique to Carol’s place. When things went south, he took Mystique back to the hideout, grabbed my duffel bag, and had my things expedited to the mansion. Then, he went off to join Magneto. He promised that he never thought things would go so badly. He's forgiven, though. Thanks to him, when I finally settled in, all of my clothes were folded neatly in a dresser, waiting for me. He doesn’t like Logan, which isn’t surprising. Logan doesn’t appreciate the danger that Remy faces being a double agent. Personally, I think he just resents the fact that there’s another badass in the mansion, now.
I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, because boredom leaves the door open for Carol. Dr. McCoy has managed to find a few mundane tasks for me, like alphabetizing his collection of medical journals and reorganizing the library. Other than that, I stay in my room and read. Sometimes, I’ll doze off and when I wake up, I’m hovering a foot above my mattress. Last night, I climbed onto the roof and considered jumping off, but I couldn’t muster the nerve. I mean, as ridiculous as it sounds, I can fly. I know it. But what if something went wrong? I’m dying to practice, but I don’t want everyone looking at me funny. Well, more than usual.
I’m sitting in the music room at the lacquered baby grand piano. There’s still a half-hour until dinner. My grandmother on my father’s side taught me to play. I’m a little rusty, so I hope nobody hears me. They shouldn't. Students don't exactly hang out in the classroom wings after hours. The only piece I can remember right now is Beethoven’s Six Easy Variations on a Swiss Tune. That’s just a study piece, though. Anybody can play it. My fingers glide with amazing recollected skill across the white and black keys. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I’ll remember my favorite piece…Chopin’s Prelude in E Minor. I clink out the first few notes of the Funeral March and I can’t help but laugh. That song is so morbid.
It’s raining outside. April showers are my favorite because even though the raindrops are dreary, the air is warm and sweet. In four days, I’ll be nineteen. I haven’t told anyone about my birthday, not even Logan or Bobby. I don’t really think it would make a difference if I did. It’s not like I’ll get a frosted cake and presents wrapped in pastel colors, topped with giant bows. The last time I actually celebrated my birthday was when I turned sixteen. My friends and I went bowling. The next day, my daddy took me to the mall parking lot and showed me how to drive his old Dodge truck. His knuckles were white by the time we went home. He said I had done about 15 years of damage on the clutch in an hour and a half. I haven’t driven since.
Three months later, I got my first kiss, and oh was it the kiss of death. My parents took me to every specialist they could find. I was prodded and tested more times than I care to remember. David’s mom threatened a lawsuit, but she had no case, so her attorney husband advised her to drop it. Everyone at school found out, and the principal asked my parents to consider switching me to another school. My mom spent her days crying and my daddy ignored me, and I knew I had to leave. The last straw was when we came home from grocery shopping and the front window was smashed in. Our sunny living room was splattered with large red letters: M-U-T-A-N-T.
I packed my bags and left in the middle of the night, 46 dollars in my pocket. I walked for a long time, just waiting for something bad to happen. I went to the 24-hour diner at the truck stop near the interstates, and I scoped out everyone for a ride. I found an older woman named Vicki, and she took me to the Virginia state line. She gave me the name of a friend who was heading up north and my twenty bucks back. I didn’t want to take it, but she insisted. She said that I’d made her trip shorter, and she was grateful we crossed paths. Sure enough, Lou showed up a couple hours later. I was out front of the gas station when a tall, skinny guy with a denim shirt that said “Lou” across the pockets emerged from the mini-market with a new pack of cigarettes. He was less friendly, but he took me, and half of my money, to a small town on the Canadian border. Things got a lot more difficult from there.
I hear my name being called. It’s Storm. “I’m in here!”
“Ah, there you are, Rogue. You should come join us in the dining room. Dinner’s ready…”
“What’re we having?”
“Lasagna. No meat. Special orders.” She winked.
“Thanks,” I smile back. “I’m famished!”
Logan is staring at his plate like it’s a poisonous snake. I’ve been watching him for several minutes, and it’s rather amusing. There’s a little too much cheese on top, but other than that, the lasagna is excellent. Oh shit, he caught me. The look he’s giving me is making me thirsty. Where’s my lemonade? Really, I resent the insolence in his gaze. If he’s trying to make me feel guilty, it’s not going to work. He knows why I didn’t sit next to him…why I chose the seat furthest from him. He knows why I can’t speak to him or see him. But still, he’s trying to make me feel bad. I have to look away. This is getting intense.
Remy leans over and whispers in my ear, “Looks like da Wolverine tinks his manhood is jeopardized by squiggly pasta.”
Oops, I laughed a little too loudly. Now everyone’s staring at me. Good defense mechanism—shoving a pile of food into my mouth and pretending to be very interested in the butter dish. I guess it worked. They’re back to their respective conversations. Whoa. Did Remy just put his hand on my thigh? He did. And Logan is glowering at him. He couldn’t possibly have seen, though. But, Logan is the jealous type, and he doesn’t hide it. Wow, I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to handle a one-night-stand with him, but it looks like he’s the one having a problem.
I giggle into my napkin. No wonder Jean let Logan trail her like a puppy dog. I could get used to this. No, I can’t. I can’t use Remy, because I actually like him a lot. And from what I can tell, he feels the same way. Besides, the age gap is smaller. Ouch, why do I feel bad for saying that? I feel like I’m hurting Logan. I shouldn’t care so much and I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Remy’s a lady’s man, fair and square. He’s Logan with a N’awlins accent. I can’t just assume that he’s going to fall for me. I’m going to have to work for it. That’ll definitely keep me busy, and right now, I need all the mental stimulation I can get.
I can’t sleep. This must have been Bobby’s old room, because I feel like I’m in an icebox. Okay, that was a bad joke. I’m tired and frustrated, and my teeth have been chattering for so long that my jaws are numb. Carol keeps trying to wiggle through the cracks, but I won’t let her. I really don’t want to sleep walk into Logan’s room because it’s fucking freezing beyond these blankets. I know, because an hour ago I got up to put on three pairs of socks and my gloves. Add my tights and sweatshirt to that equation, and I’m just oozing sex appeal. Just thinking about those nights at the Peach Tree and all those skimpy outfits makes me snuggle closer to my pillow.
I wonder if Logan would’ve thought I was good. He’s probably seen a lot of strippers in his day. I wonder if Remy enjoyed it. Back on that road trip to San Francisco, we camped out at a trailer park in Utah. I had my first taste of Bourbon, and I talked Remy’s ear off while I wiggled my hips. My face is burning up just thinking about it. He was a gentleman though, and wrapped his trench coat around me, laughing. Would you believe that he called me a River Rat? Oh brother, did I just sigh? I guess fancying a good ol’ southern boy is better than my foolish Logan hero worship.
I’m making a decision right now. No more Logan. I’m going to show him that I’m a grown woman who is immune to his brute animal magnetism. I have to get my life in order, and I can’t do that unless I distance myself from things that make me feel confused and insignificant. You know what? Logan’s not that sexy, if you really think about it. He’s just a big jerk. Wow, I’ve had many reactions in regards to Logan, but I’ve never been physically disgusted before. I think this is a step in the right direction.
Knocking. Come in. Wait, it’s not my door. It’s outside. A woodpecker? No. Please don’t make me get up. Why are you making me get up? It’s so bright outside. Daylight? I really don’t remember falling asleep. Where the hell is that noise coming from? There. Logan. Is he….? He’s chopping down a tree! In April. It’s a perfectly nice tree. Why is he killing it? Maybe it’s one of his mountain man things. He has to chop a tree down once in a while. Build a cabin. Make fire. What time is it? Oh come on, Logan! Eight thirty in the morning and you have to fulfill your undomesticated urge to be one with the wilderness? They don’t even serve breakfast until 9:15, so you just robbed me of another half hour of sleep. Thanks a lot, you big ogre. Well, I’m awake now. Might as well take a shower.
I never thought that it mattered where you eat a plate of pancakes, but I have been proved wrong. Bobby, Kitty, and Jubilee invited me to sit with them in the boathouse, and there’s just something about the lighting in here and the view of the lake that makes my fluffy discs of flour, eggs, and milk taste spectacular. Yeah, they’re a little cold from the long walk, but I don’t mind. The conversation is carefree and fluid. According to Jubilee, Logan was chopping that tree down because a statue is being built in its place. A statue for Jean. I feel like an ass.
Why is it that just when I’m trying to find every possible way to stop glorifying Logan, he does something sentimental? Yeah, it’s at the Professor’s bidding, but he could have said no and he didn’t. I wonder how Scott feels about sharing this venture with him. It has to feel like a slap in the face, right? He’s building a memorial to the woman he loved with all his heart, and the target of her mental adultery is clearing the land. Did Logan feel the same way when I died? I can’t remember it, but clinically speaking, I kicked the bucket. If I stretch my brain hard enough, I can see blood on my hands, but that’s about it. Nobody will tell me what happened, and I’m sure I want to know all the details.
There’s my name again. “Rogue? Rogue?”
“Yeah?” I’m so bad at pretending to pay attention.
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Haven’t you been listening at all, chica?”
“Er…no…sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. What did I miss?”
Bobby shrugs. “We were just talking about whether or not the younger students should receive combat training. The shit’s kind of hit the fan…”
“What do you mean?” I haven’t been reading the newspaper or watching television that much. I’m out of the loop when it comes to world events. Oh no, they’re giving me that look. The look you give someone when you don’t want to hurt any feelings.
“Things are just a little more tense now, ever since the SFPD blamed Carol’s disappearance on mutant terrorists.” Suddenly I’m glad I haven’t been listening. “But nobody blames you.” Um, thank you?
“Rogue, don’t get mad. All Kat means is that Mystique’s stupid plan has created a big problem. It’s affected all of us.” Marie, just calm down. These people are your friends. Just try to understand. “But, anyway, that’s not the point. We were just saying that it’s more beneficial to learn useful defense tactics than to run laps for P.E., especially if we were ever to be attacked again.”
“What she said,” Kitty smiles weakly. I smile back, because I want her to know that it’s okay.
I don’t know how I feel about that. “It depends. Some of the kids here are only seven and eight years old. Can they handle the discipline?”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be regimented. If someone other than Wolvie teaches it, it could actually be fun. What little kid doesn’t want to play ninja once in a while?”
“Wolvie?” I snort.
Jubilee sets her plate on the workbench behind her. “What? Wolverine sounds ridiculous, because he may act like a furry little mean weasel, but he doesn’t look like one. And I can’t call him Logan because…I don’t like calling my teachers by their first names. Could you call Professor Xavier ‘Charles’ or Storm ‘Ororo’?”
“I can’t even pronounce Storm’s name,” Bobby smirks.
“Bobby!”
“Wolverine sounds ridiculous, but Wolvie doesn’t?” Kitty has a good point. “Anyway, maybe you could bring it up with the Professor today, Rogue.”
I have a meeting with him after lunch. Usually I’m too uncomfortable and worn out to make small talk. “I guess…”
We all jump as the clock on the wall cuckoos. Jubilee grabs her dish and skips to the door. “Oh my gosh! It’s ten, guys. We have to get to the foosball table before the rest of the runts.”
“I hope Pete’s ready for his Saturday morning ass-whooping!” Bobby hurdles over a pile of scrap wood with Kitty hot on his heels.
“Oh no you don’t, Iceman! Last time you got us in trouble!”
It’s true. Apparently, Bobby got frustrated and froze Pete’s entire team, along with half of the table. Needless to say, ice melts…and he flooded the Rec room carpet. Storm was not happy. She had to evaporate it, and the bottom floor was like a sauna. I wasn’t there because I was still hiding out in my room, but it was the talk of the mansion for almost two days. I should thank Bobby. It got all of the students to stop whispering about me.
“Rogue, you coming?” Yeah. I’ll be there.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: The X-men and their liknesses belong to Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox, not me.