'God, he’s beautiful,' she thinks as she points out the map on her wall, unaware of the way she keeps rambling on about a stupid trip that even she knows is just a pipedream. Blue eyes and blond hair, athletic, smart and just cocky enough to be sincere, he really is the epitome of the all-American boy. And he is lying here on her bed, watching her point at a stupid map as she continues to ramble.
But that isn’t so unusual, is it? This isn’t the first time he has ever been in her room. They've known each other for years. Since toddler days spent playing in the sandbox at the park at the elementary school, they had celebrated birthdays and milestones together. Now, here they are, preparing for their senior year in high school and what's going to come next.
So what's changed? Why isn’t she looking at this boy she's known for longer than her memory spanned like the brother she's always thought of him as?
It's because of the dreams; because he isn’t her brother. Not even close. This boy sitting on her bed, on the verge of manhood, this boy that her parents trust enough to allow in her room alone without checking on them, this boy has invaded her heart in a way she had never thought possible. He makes her stomach knot, and her brain malfunction with the simplest look. And he makes her heart ache with doubt that he even sees her as a girl.
“So when do you plan on taking this adventure?” Cody asks as she bounces back onto the bed next to him.
Suddenly shy, she looks away, shrugging lightly. She can’t even remember what she had actually said. It not a real trip, just an idea, even if the thumbtacks marke each town she will stop in. “I don’t know… After graduation, before college.”
She only knows that she is hoping that he will kiss her. They are close together now, only a breath away, really. All it would take would be for him to lean in just a little. It isn’t until his lips are on hers that she realizes she isn’t imagining it. He wants to kiss her as much as she wants him to. The kiss grows deeper, and she can feel everything - even what he’s feeling. She pulls away fast, realizing that his lips are no longer responsive. Gasping, she watches his body lose all animation and collapse, before going into seizure.
She screams as she jumps from the bed, not even realizing her parents are by her side until her mother tries to reach for her. But she doesn’t want to hurt her, so she screams again.
“That was your first kiss?” the psychic projection in her mind asks as the memory unfolds before her. It’s strange, watching her own memories like this; almost as if they’re just movies, precisely scripted. Beside her, Psylocke too watches the memories.
Rogue says nothing, and just continues to watch each projection.
She’s on her own now, hitchhiking across the country on Interstate 70, just past the Colorado border, slowly making her way north. It has been three months since she left home. Three months since she put the only boy who had shown any interest in her in a coma and her parents had stopped speaking to her.
She is currently in the cab of a truck headed to California. The driver smells of greasy food and something chemical. He also has the look of a man who hadn’t slept in three days and is going for more. He’s definitely flying high on something. She’s pretty sure it comes in a little baggie, maybe still in rock form, but doesn’t ask questions. Already, it’s nearly December and getting colder every day. The rides are coming further and further apart.
She doesn’t trust this driver; something about him makes the hair on back of her neck stand up. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s driving the rig like a bat out of hell and might kill them any moment, or if it’s the way he keeps sidling glances at her, flashing a smile warped and decayed by twenty years of bad hygiene and worse drugs.
She didn’t even want to get in with him when he offered her the ride, but there was no one else and she had been walking forever. Plus, Denver is coming up soon. She’s going to get off there and start traveling north on I-25. She might stop for a while and find a job, make some more money before the summer. She still has some money from the job she took back in Arkansas, but not enough. She had spent too much time there, too.
Not enough money in that crappy little bar, but the owner hadn’t cared much about her age, and they were one of the few mutant-friendly places, if you want to call a job that pays 50 bucks a day with shared tips and ten-hour days, seven days a week mutant-friendly. She had stayed there for two months without any hassle, but only because of the mutant she had bunked with: a man called Bear.
Close to eight feet tall with shaggy brown hair, yellow eyes, sharp teeth and hands that were really like a brown bear’s paws. He was a good man, though and had never tried anything with her. More importantly, he refused to accept a dime from her, so she was able to save almost every cent she earned, with the exception of buying a new pair of shoes and food. But then Bear disappeared and she knew she had to go before she did the same. Plus, she didn’t want to be around when summer hit; she would have to be in Alaska before spring. She’s sure that she could get away with covering up there year-round. From what she’s heard, Alaska is more supportive of mutants living there.
He’s doing it again, leering at her with the rotting smile of a man with a sick mind. She wishes that she had just kept walking. It would have been better than putting up with this. Someone else may have come along, but then again, she might have just frozen in the snow.
“We’ll be in Denver by morning,” he says quickly as his eyes wander up and down her body. She feels like she’s going to vomit from the come-hither look in his eyes. She can’t wait to find a cheap room so that she can shower off the grime his looks are leaving behind.
“Great. I’ll get off there,” she says with what she hopes is a sweet smile. Maybe he won’t do anything to her. Maybe he’ll just let her off at a motel and be gone. He hasn’t asked her any personal questions, and she is secretly relieved she didn’t have to lie again. Maybe she should have taken that as a sign.
He chuckles now, a sound that makes her heart beat faster. He’s up to something; she can see it clear as day. “Well, now, maybe it’s a good time to talk about repayment.”
She looks at him, shocked by his words. Nobody had asked for payment before. She had a little money left, a couple hundred dollars. She had left Arkansas with about $2500, but that was a month back, and even cheap motels get expensive. Plus, she had to buy this green cloak, since she didn’t have anything really warm and this was all she could afford. She’s down to around $450. Maybe he just wants some lunch money or something. But the look in his eyes is telling her something else.
“There’s a little rest stop just off the next exit. We’ll stop there.” He’s smiling now. She doesn’t even think he is talking to her anymore, but planning it all out in his head. She has to find a way out of this before he does something. Before he gets off the interstate.
She’s wearing her seatbelt. He’s not. The idea forms quickly: if she just reaches out and touches him… She’s not sure what will happen or if it is even going to work. She’s not entirely sure she’ll survive. But, it’s sure as hell better than going out like that. Plus, it’s not like they’re on a highway. It’s the interstate, nothing but land around them. They’re not in any cities or towns yet and it is late enough that there aren’t any other people on the road.
Taking off her left glove, hoping that he’s too lost in thought to notice, she reaches for him and grabs his face, holding on. The seizures start right away and they begin to swerve.
She hopes there isn’t anyone coming even as the rig drives off the road and flips. She finally lets go. She screams and closes her eyes even as she feels the rig stop, on its side now with the driver’s door on the ground, and Charlie’s lifeless body pressed against it. At least he’s not looking at her.
She’s still in her seat, unharmed. Seatbelts. She’ll have to remember that.
“That was the second time you touched someone after your mutation manifested?” Psylocke asked as the memory began to fade.
“Yes,” Rogue’s mind whispers back, a good sign to the telepath. “He was dirty and an animal, but… He wasn’t the monster I thought he was.”
“You got his thoughts? His memories?”
“I wasn’t the first hitchhiker he had picked up,” Rogue said slowly, everything around her still in black. She couldn’t see the other woman, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Rogue just hadn’t thought it necessary to give the other woman a physical form in her mind. “He slept with a few, but never forced them. He was proud of that. If a hitcher didn’t want to sleep with him, well he would just threaten to leave them by the side of the road. If they still didn’t give in, he would make good on his threat.”
“What happened next?” She knew that the younger woman didn’t want to talk about the memory anymore, but Psylocke still had to find a way to bring her around.
“I ran.”
She was watching another memory.
Safe, she thinks, as she looks him over after jumping into the cab of the small truck. It’s the first time she’s been able to truly identify that word with someone, even if he is the Wolverine.
“Put your hands…” He’s reaching for her hands, her gloveless hands. How could she be so damn stupid? She knows he’s a mutant, too, but that doesn’t mean that he is going to accept her own mutation.
She pulls away quickly, swallowing the scream that is threatening to choke her.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Kid,” he says with confidence, mistaking her actions for fear of him.
“It’s nothing personal, it’s just, when people touch my skin… They get hurt.”
“I don’t want to see that,” Rogue whispers as the memory fades again.
Psylocke is stunned by how easily she stops the flow. She hadn’t realized the girl was able to control it herself. She had thought they were watching all of this for a reason, maybe these were things Rogue had to see again.
But now, Psylocke wondered if these were things Rogue wanted her to see, to help her understand.
There were more memories, more uses of her skin. When she ran away from the mansion after absorbing Logan’s healing abilities. When she was on top of the statue. The only kiss she had shared with Bobby and when she had stolen Pyro’s flame.
But these memories swirled by in a hurry. Nothing that they saw here made a difference.
“Shhhh…” She’s in her cell, being pinned down again by the five men who love to torture her. This isn’t the first time she’s been raped by them, and it won’t be the last.
Psylocke released her hold slowly, not wanting to send the girl into further shock. She felt the moisture of tears clouding her eyes, and did little to hold them back. She had seen the rapes, or what Rogue had wanted to show her, and had felt the honesty. And she had seen what had happened afterward, when she was given to Victor like an old chew toy. She had seen enough after that.
“Colossus. Will you ask Logan and Victor to come in here, please?” she asked lowly, her accent sharpening as she struggled to control herself.
The young man didn’t answer, but simply nodded and headed for the door.
Beast watched him walk away before turning toward the Asian. He cleared his throat, getting her attention from wherever her mind had wandered. “Are you sure that’s wise? I mean they aren’t the best of acquaintances, you know.”
“Yes, I know, but she needs them. I’m afraid that… I don’t think she wants to live any longer, Dr. McCoy.” Psylocke paused, collecting her thoughts. “She’s been through so much since her mutation manifested, so much pain. I think she… I think she’s waiting for Carol to take over. I don’t think Rogue wants to keep trying.”
“And you think those two will be able to pull her through?” Hank asked, somewhat startled. He had been given the opportunity to get to know Logan a little better, and found the feral man had more depth than he first anticipated. But he wasn’t so sure about Sabretooth.
“They’re the only ones. I’m not sure about Logan, though; he’s let her down so many times. But Victor has a good chance, she trusts him.”
They filed into the room, Logan walking in first in case Victor decided to attack. He would be in danger, yes, and every instinct he had told him not to do it, but he would also be between her and the monster.
“Can you help her?” Logan asked slowly, his gaze locking on the Asian woman.
She sighed, turning away. “I believe we can, but it’s not going to be easy. She’s got all of Carol in her mind now, and Rogue doesn’t really care what happens to her. She’s not going to fight the other woman off when Carol is ready to seize control.”
“Why hasn’t she already?” Victor asked, ignoring the way Logan seemed to tense at the sound of his voice. He was careful not to go too close to the bed, lest the smaller man feel threatened. He wouldn’t put the frail in that kind of position.
Psylocke shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I didn’t even see her in there. It could be that she’s still trying to adapt, or it could be Rogue hasn’t made up her mind, as she has led me to believe, and is holding her back. Rogue didn’t tell me any of this. She really didn’t tell me anything, actually. She just kept going through her old memories, showing me moments in her life. I’m not even sure if this is what she really means, but it’s the only reason I can think of that she would insist on sharing those moments with me.”
“So what can be done to help her?” Logan asked, his eyes falling to the still form on the bed. She looked so small, so helpless.
“I have an idea, but I will need to contact another telepath and get her opinion. And, I will need her help with this,” Psylocke said ruminated. She had doubts that it would work. “If it does show any kind of promise, you will both be needed. I should have an answer for you by the end of tomorrow night.”
“Logan, may I speak with you?” Beast asked as he hurried after the two feral men quietly leaving the examination room. It was apparent that they were doing their best to keep their mutual hostility to a minimum, and the good doctor applauded their efforts, but that didn’t hide the animosity.
Logan turned, keeping his eye on Victor. “Not now, Beast. I’ve got to babysit.”
“Sit on this,” Victor replied, raising his middle finger and growling at the smaller man.
“This is important. And, actually, Mr. Creed, I may need to ask you a few questions, as well,” Best said, looking between them. “How many times have you each touched Rogue while her powers were active?”
Logan thought for a moment, unsure what this had to do with anything. “Four or five times, I guess. The first time when I accidentally stabbed her.” He heard the growl Victor emitted, but chose to ignore it. “When I saved her on that damn statue, and a couple of times while we were running training sessions. The last time, I was trying to get her to use her abilities more aggressively, and she dropped me. I was out for a few days.”
“And did you, Mr. Creed, ever have cause to lend Rogue your mutation?” Beast asked slowly, turning his attention.
“Yeah, once. When we escaped from that lab in Nevada,” Victor replied gruffly. “We came up with this plan to escape that involved her getting hurt. We were trying to get my collar taken off. They took hers off instead. She lost a lot of blood setting the others free. By the time we were somewhere safe enough for me to pass out, too, she was barely there. I was out for a week after that one.”
Logan held back his own growl, not wanting to sink to the same level as the other man. He still didn’t understand what this was about, though.
“Well,” Beast said, looking back to the chart he carried in his hand, “it would seem that while Rogue’s unique transmutation not only scrounges the mutant augmentation from those she comes into contact with that carry exceptional gifts, it also amalgamates those abilities and incorporates them into her own DNA if a sufficient amount is absorbed.”
“Meaning?” Logan asked slowly, wishing not for the first time that there were an interpreter present. Victor’s eyes had simply glazed over.
“Well, in English, as you would say,” Beast said, clearing his throat indignantly, “meaning that Rogue’s mutation seems to have borrowed from both your and Mr. Creed’s combined healing abilities and enhanced senses enough times that both have become embedded in her own DNA.”
“She’s a healer now?” Victor asked, catching up with the blue mutant.
“A feral mutant, actually. Minus the claws since that part of your mutations seems to differ and this has come about through both of your abilities.” Beast looked from one to the other.
“Well, that explains it,” Victor chuckled. Beast and Logan looked at him, both sets of eyes full of questions.
“Before all this happened, she couldn’t figure out why she still had my mutations. Why nothing had faded,” Victor explained, a bitter smile on his face. “She’s going to live as long as us now, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Beast agreed slowly.
“Wonder how long it’s going to be before the animal gets to her and she loses her mind, too.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Logan asked, holding his temper back with effort.
“You and me.” The smile left his face as he looked at Logan questioningly. “You don’t think we’ve both been like this since the beginning, do you? This kind of insanity, this kind of animal instinct - it takes years to hone this. You really don’t remember anything, do you, Jimmy?”
Victor didn’t wait for a reply. He only chuckled sadly, turning and walking away to find a bed to sleep in.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This will probably be the last chapter posted before Christmas. I will try to have the next chapter up before the beginning of the new year! HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!!!