:: She was still there in one of the examination rooms, one of the antechambers of hell. Surgeons looking down at her, their faces covered with masks and glasses. Latex covered hands poking at her skin, scalpels cutting deep into her flesh and her blood gushing out in dark red rivers. She was aware of everything that was happening, they wanted her to be. It hurt so much and she screamed for someone to help her, to make it all go away but nobody ever came to her aid. Then the cuts knit themselves back together and left unmarked skin in their wake, like nothing ever happened, but in her mind and in her heart each cut kept bleeding and it hurt so much that she wanted to die, she hoped a million times that she wouldn’t survive but death never granted her its rest and shelter. They were approaching again, she couldn’t move, she was cuffed to another cold metal table. They plunged her into a tank of sullied water surrounded by dozens of small power drills. Her heart was twisting with fear but she couldn’t scream, the tube they put down her throat and mouth blocking the way of the full blown sound building in her chest. And then it started and she could feel the hot metal setting her every bone on fire, her brain almost immediately overtaken by the unbearable pain. She wouldn’t survive, not this time, and she didn’t want to but yet, she couldn’t let them continue. ::
The girl started thrashing in her sleep, sweat pearling on her forehead, tears streaming down her drawn face. Her back suddenly arched at an unnatural angle, her hands searching the air for support. She was having a nightmare. The man looked on in a panic induced haze as the girl fought the demons of her sleep, strangled moans and half formed pleas filling the air around him. The shock of seeing the girl’s fragile form twisting in the covers, arms and hands stretched out toward empty space, brought forth feelings of dread in him. Never had he witnessed such agony in his life; he could literally taste the young girl’s pain and anguish. He had to do something to help her, he had to make it stop!
The thin face was a mask where dueled the darkest agony, bottomless pain and powerless rage, the small body bending over backwards under the strain of invisible tortures, bones creaking in an ominous and disturbing metallic sound. She was the epitome hopeless misery. The man wanted to help, he wished with all his might but he felt completely overwhelmed by the strength of the scene he was witnessing, hands hovering, fingers flexing, wanting to hold and soothe but not wanting to hurt.
There…one word escaped the ghostly white, straining throat, an exhale of breath: “Help…”
The man hesitated no more.
“Wake up! It’s just a dream! Wake up!” He shouted.
The young girl, in her delirium didn’t seem to hear him, prisoner of her devastating dreams. So he carefully grabbed her by her shoulder, his gloved hand securely setting on the cotton covered area, and shook her none too gently several times.
“Please, wake up, come back!”, His voice now pleading, praying almost for her to rise back up from the demoniac haze that seemed to have overtaken her body. The man shook her one last time, dragging her up to him by her arm.
Two brown eyes, wide in panic shot open, pupils overtaking almost all the iris. The girl took hold of his gloved hand on her shoulder screaming her head off, claws extending from both hands. She didn’t see him, no, she was not in the cabin with him, she was still in her dream, still in hell, and now she was setting herself free from it all, her body turned inside out by the pain coursing through her.
He felt it. The shock first, then the pain concentrated where the claws on her right hand had hit and then spreading throughout his body. She aimed the heart and didn’t miss her target. She could hear it slowing down dangerously; feel the thick blood cover her hand where it was buried knuckles deep in the surgeon’s chest and flowing down her arm in a warm liquid caress. But the smell was different.
Yes, she could smell fear and shock, but there was something wrong. She blinked once, then twice and saw the face inches away from hers. She saw green-golden eyes digging into hers, confused but not hateful, she smelt citrus, earth and wood and concern but not the disinfectants and nauseating hatred that usually stuck to the surgeons in the lab.
Realization hit her hard, her eyes even wider in shock as she took in the scene. He could feel his heart slowing even more with every passing second, her warm hand against his chest, her body so close to his, their stomach touching, her legs straddling his left thigh; so close to him.
No one in the past fifteen years ever came this close to him without wanting to bolt, or without dying or being hurt for that matter. She was touching him, reaching deep inside of him and taking his life away with her naked hand; and those claws. She could touch him deeper than anyone else, and something inside him recognized this as something good, desirable. The man didn’t want her to feel bad about this, he was not angry, no he could even thank her for giving him that before he left this world. Still it was a shame that he had to go now without knowing who she was, without hearing the sound of her voice. He would have loved that. She was all he could see now and slowly he felt his body giving into the darkness. It was the end. His head leaned into hers, forehead against forehead, lips against lips.
The pull started almost imperceptibly, sluggishly, but then tore at her life with so much force it made her scream; every emotion, every drop of her own life essence speeding their way into the man’s lifeless body. She was going to die, her life siphoned out of her. Every bone screaming anew as the girl felt her flesh literally burn under the man’s cooling skin. She pressed her eyes shut tight against it all. What was going on? Was it revenge for her newest killing? But by God it wasn’t her fault…or was it? Would he hate her now? ‘Please let him not hate me, please’, she prayed to no one in particular as she felt darkness swallow her.
Strong hands pushed the small body away violently, and it rolled off the bed, twisted by seizures. The man dropped his gaze to his chest where he could feel the cuts left by the girl’s metal claws knitting themselves back together, life running wild through his body and the strong echo of her mind inside his. She was so strong, so much stronger than anyone he’d ever touched before, and she didn’t die, she was still breathing. She was unconscious, yes, but even after such a prolonged touch she was still alive and shaking on the floor.
His senses were assaulted by everything in the small room; the brightness of the fire, the feel of the leather of his gloves on his fingertips and smell of his own blood mixed with her scent, the heady and alluring spice of it making him feel too warm in his own skin. Foreign feelings and a deep primal need to taste her on him left him rooted to the spot. Then he realized that it wasn’t him but her who wanted that, needed that so much that it almost drove her insane; make sure he was alright, that he didn’t hate her; still hers...
The thoughts too much for him to handle, the man crawled to her trying hard not to make things worse. She had stopped shaking and her eyes were fluttering open, the brown orbs rolling in their sockets as the girl tried to regain consciousness. When she saw him so close to her, she cringed hard, backing away from the hazy form kneeling next to her, pressing herself in a shadowy corner on the other side of the room. Her breathing was erratic and shallow, the previous events rushing back to her in a painful sequence.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to…I’m so sorry…I killed you…I…” She was shaking hard, sobbing and choking on her own tears, looking at everything but at the man who was now very still; shocked.
“I’m…It’s okay…Oh God, are you alright? Please tell me you’re alright.” he begged, arms uselessly hanging on his sides, afraid to cause more arm.
The question stunned the girl but she answered nonetheless, trying hard to make sense of the words and emotions tumbling and crashing against each other in her fragmented mind. She had killed him, she *knew* she had, but then he touched her… Something happened when he touched her!
“I’m so…Yes, I’m fine…I’m…What did you do to me? What happened?”
The man’s heart instantly sank through the floor at hearing this simple question, the girl’s voice a shaky whisper over the sound of his harsh panting.
“I’m sorry… I touched you…I didn’t want to, I was…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you…Oh God.”
“No, you…you were dead, I know I hurt you bad…you were…What the fuck happened!!?”
Now the girl was well and good agitated, eyes frantically seeking the empty space around her for something to focus on, her mind losing its grip on reality a little bit more every passing second. He should be dead! Maybe she was still in the nightmare…
“…I touched you…I’m…sorry. It’s you…you healed me. I never meant to hurt you, please…It’s okay, it’s over.” The man said, voice pleading, overcome by grief and silent rage at his cursed skin. She would hate him now. He knew she would. He had hurt her and scared her. It would have been okay if he had died tonight, but the last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain, be the source or her pain. She had already been through so much.
“What?” Her hoarse whisper came to him in conveyed puzzlement.
“I touched you and… You healed me.”
He was hard pressed to find something else to say. Seeing her still somewhat shocked by the fact he was still alive, he felt compelled to explain a little more. “It’s my mutation, it’s what I do. I absorbed you when my skin touched yours. You can heal…and it seems that I took it from you…I know I hurt you too, I promise I won’t touch you….I can kill with one touch...”
But she was apparently unharmed by it, she hadn’t died… but the man decided not to dwell too long on the fact and its implications for the moment. As far as he was concerned, he had hurt her and she was now scared of him, of what he was.
Against all expectations, the young girl moved closer to him on all fours, trying to wrap her mind around what the man was saying. She saw it in the cage and later with the bartender, but she didn’t know he could kill, yet she felt it; if he had held a second longer, she would have been dead. He could end her life, he could end her pain and she could give him life. She had almost killed him, she knew she had. His heartbeats were almost silent, he was exhaling his last breath, and then he touched her, he kissed her.
“You kissed me…” she said, bringing a shaky hand to her lips.
The incongruous whispered statement made the man look up at her then drop his gaze. Yes, he had kissed her. He could still feel the softness of her lips beneath his and he was disgusted with himself for having found it pleasurable. Just what kind of life sucking monster was he?
“I’m sorry…” He said again.
With that same hand, she reached for his face, but he grabbed it before she had a chance to make contact. Although he craved it, he wouldn’t hurt her again… Never touch her again; that decision not sitting right with something buried deep within him.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“My name’s Logan.”
“I’m Rogue…” The girl said with a timid smile. Logan…she decided that she liked that name very much. It was a good name, and it suited him.
“Rogue?” Logan retorted, puzzled. Just what kind of a name was ‘Rogue’?
The young girl smiled gain at his arched eyebrow, raised at her as if in question. “That’s the name they gave me, I don’t know any other name, that’s what they always called me.”
“The men in the labs…”
“How do you know?” Rogue had a movement as if to step back away from the man in front of her, for the first time feeling suspicious of him. But the look in his eyes as his amber colored gaze swept over to her, burned the last of her resistance away.
“Yes” The girl said, whispered, “and I escaped because I know I haven’t always been there…” she added weakly, her voice breaking with the last word.
She squeezed his hand as it still held hers and lowered herself to the floor where she started to sob uncontrollably. Then in one swift movement she plunged to his chest and burrowed her small face in his chest where it was safely covered by fabric. He cringed, afraid to hurt her again; she was so close to him again, to his skin.
“I won’t hurt you Logan…I promise…Please…I won’t ever hurt you again, hold me, please...” She said between sobs.
“I’m afraid to hurt *you*.” The man said, amazed to hear that she was worried about hurting him and not the other way around, just like all the people he’d met since he’s mutation popped out fifteen years ago.
He’d barely had any physical contact since that day. He had rarely held anyone this close in the lonely years that followed, and there she was clinging on to him, sobbing in his chest like it was the safest place in the world. She was in his arms and she wasn’t afraid. So hesitantly, ever so slowly, he let one of his gloved hand tangle in her messy hair as his chin gently dropped to the top of her head. It wasn’t a direct contact but it was the closest as it could get for him, and for the first time in his mutant life, he felt that he wasn’t alone anymore.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm in a bout of productive frenzy (don't eat, don't sleep, don't go out of bedroom...), and here it is: chapter 3 where Our favorite pair has a bit of a run in with each other... Nuf said... Enjoy!!
And please, keep reviewing!!!!!
PS: :: For dreams ::
And please, keep reviewing!!!!!
PS: :: For dreams ::