She could pinpoint the exact moment the world turned to shit. It was the moment Jean Gray opened her eyes and let the world know that she was alive and pissed off.
Rogue stood by and watched as her own problems were put on the back burner again. No one cared that she still couldn’t touch without wreaking havoc, no one worried that her psyche couldn’t take any more. No one paid any real attention to her at all. Scott had disappeared. Xavier was busy keeping Jean comatose. Bobby was sniffing around Kitty, although he was at least trying to be sneaky about it. Storm was taking control of the students and making sure that everyone was being good. And Logan was trying to figure out what the hell was going on and too busy sniffing around the med lab.
And then Xavier, the one person she thought could actually help her, died. At the hands of the one woman she could never hope to live up to, no less. Storm buried herself in her work, not wanting to face her own emotions, much less anyone else’s. Beast was busy with Washington.
And Bobby… Bobby was too busy comforting Kitty, making sure she was all right. And it had hurt to see them like that, out there on the fountain, surrounded by all those dead water lilies. She wouldn’t - couldn’t - deny how much it hurt. She couldn’t say it out loud, but she wouldn’t lie to herself, either. Bobby was supposed to have been with her… Instead, he sought out Kitty: he chose her over his girlfriend. Well, his girlfriend was getting a little sick of being second best.
But, if she was going to be honest with herself, that wasn’t what hurt the most. It wasn’t until after she saw the two kiss in the moonlight and saw how beautiful they looked together. It wasn’t until after she went and packed her bag, ready to run but unsure of what she was running to.
It wasn’t until she ran into Logan on her way out. If she had only been a little faster, she would have made it. And when he asked her if she was running again and she got his opinion on the cure, well, it wasn’t the answer she needed to hear. It was the truth, at least according to him, but she needed him to tell her that she didn’t need it, that she would learn control on her own. Or even just a reassurance that she was just fine how she was, that someone special would see past her mutation and wouldn’t care.
Of course, that wasn’t how it went, but these things never go the way you picture them. He just told her that he hoped the she wasn’t just doing it for some boy, but for herself. That he wasn’t her father: like she didn’t already know that. Hell, he even offered her a ride. But did he once tell her she didn’t need it? Nope.
No, the only person who had tried to reassure her was Storm. And even she knew that reassurance had nothing to do with her, but with mutantkind as a whole. Bullshit. She could see where Storm was coming from, though. Acceptance was very important for peace. Hell, she could even understand her high and mighty view, but there always had to be an exception to the rule. There were mutants out there whose abilities made them a threat to everyone, a danger. Mutants who could take a life with the flick of a wrist, who didn’t want that power, had no need for it and who couldn’t find any control. Mutants like her.
So she went and took the cure. It was the first time in a long time that she had made any kind of decision for herself. The first time she hadn’t taken anyone else’s feelings or beliefs into consideration. All her life, she had always done what others thought she should do; even running away was more her parents’ idea than her own. They hadn’t said it in so many words, but every time she turned around, there was another hint.
Five thousand dollars mysteriously appearing in her previously dwindling bank account that really only had a few dollars left over from her birthday. Her mother buying more and more non-perishable foods, especially in cans with pop-tops. Her father picking up that damn green cloak, not saying a word as he left it on her bed. She really liked how her mother had left the fake ID sitting on her dresser. The biggest hint was when she got out of the shower to find his old army duffle bag just outside her room, empty and newly washed.
She left that night, the cloak wrapped tightly around her, bag full with all the things she would need and ATM card snug in her pocket, along with the fake ID. It was late when she left, a Monday night when no one would see her. Her parents were in their room, ignoring the noises she made. There were no goodbyes, no asking for a phone call, not even an “I love you”, nothing. She wondered if they were really sleeping, or if they were just pretending, hiding in their bed from the daughter that could kill them with a touch, holding their collective breath until they heard the front door close. Pitiful, really.
Of course, the one time she actually made a decision for herself, everything went wrong. It backfired. She didn’t blame anyone for her troubles, though. It was her decision and she should have known that it was too good to be true. Seeing the more dangerous mutants - the Class Fives - get singled out for treatment first should have been a warning sign, really.
When Bobby was making his rounds to all of the known clinics welcoming those who wanted the cure, she was being introduced to a doctor with a grandfatherly face and soothing voice; claiming to be a specialist selected to help those with more dangerous mutations. He shook her hand gingerly, his hands protected by the latex gloves he wore.
As Magneto was making his assault on the Golden Gate Bridge, she was being strapped down to a table in an isolated compound, being put to sleep, honestly believing that she was going to get a miracle injection. Her mind was whispering goodbye to all the voices in her head, a bittersweet remorse filling her heart with the knowledge that when she woke, they would be gone.
While Logan drove his claws into the being known as Phoenix, her unconscious body was carefully placed in a waiting van.
And, finally, as everyone was arriving home, congratulating each other on a job well done in the same breath they mourned a monster who was once their friend, the young woman who was pushed aside in the shuffle of events was waking to find that she herself was still a monster. Not only was she entering a nightmare that not even the Wolverine could imagine, she had become one of those mutants who are expendable. She was now a statistic, another one of the forgotten.
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Story Notes:
Special thanks to biohelixx for the beta. I really do appreciate it and can't wait to see where this one goes!
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading!!! This is just getting started and I don't know how long it will be. But I have a lot of ideas to go with it. Feedback greatly appreciated.