If only she could fast forward time to get to tomorrow quicker – get to sleep faster- do anything to get this pain, this torture to stop.
She forced herself to breathe evenly, slowly, methodically, knowing that if she allowed herself to cry the pain could be - would be - much, much worse. She needed to remain calm. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She rocked back and forth in a fetal position within the dark closet of her bedroom, her windowless refuge. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? The professor had warned her that it could take a long time, had warned her that these headaches would be an unfortunate, but necessary side effect. It indicated that her mind was repairing itself, cementing the new blocks that the professor was helping to build, ensuring their permanence. She needed to be aware. No painkillers, no sedation. No respite.
He warned her that once he began, there would be no turning back. He would be ripping down her previously self-made defenses, to make room for the newer, stronger confines he would place within her mind. He had to take away what little control she had managed up to now, leaving her powerless to protect herself in the interim. If they stopped, her mind would be consumed by the many psyches that ran rampant within it.
He said it was up to her, but Rogue knew there wasn’t really a choice. She needed to control the many mutations she absorbed since her own mutation manifested itself. The personalities that accompanied them were gaining strength in her mind. The twisted cutlery in the kitchen, the burnt out back garden, the frozen pool, cars found on the school roof top… it was getting out of hand, and it had to stop. She needed to be stopped.
Professor Xavier knew that she knew this. She had offered to end it all. Scared but bravely accepting her fate. A part of her always knew that this would happen – and she was so tired of living the nightmare that her life had become. But he refused. Charles Xavier was determined to save her.
The professor began small, easily putting the human psyches into one box; those faint and weak traces of others who couldn’t claim her. Day after day, Dr. Henry McCoy monitored them both, keeping track of their vitals as they lay on separate beds, side by side in the sick bay. Most of the occupants of the school had no idea what was happening deep underneath the academy’s floors. No idea of what was at stake. The remaining X-Men who stood outside the enclosed room, each and every day, did however.
Kitty, Jubilee, Bobby, Piotr, Kurt, Ororo and Scott were very afraid for her. Each wanted to do more than just wait, each willing give their strength, their own mutations to save her. But they were also prepared to intercede – in whatever means necessary – should she lose control of the multiple mutations that the professor was attempting to rein in.
It made for little conversation between them.
Charles Xavier was strong and very, very powerful. Slowly, reassuringly, he moved forward - determined to win. The trapped psyches in her mind demonstrated their malevolence towards her, furious at being constrained. To prevent the most powerful ones from possessing her, the professor placed her in her own box, battling them in her place.
And her Inner Logan stayed with her, protecting her, knowing that it was during these times when she was the most afraid.
But only in here, a solitary voice reminded her, and she realized, with a start, that it was hers. That’s how she knew it working, when her thoughts belonged only to her.
Her Inner Logan couldn’t comfort her at night, and the real Logan had been gone a long, long time. Professor Xavier attempted to locate him but Cerebro was unable to pinpoint his location. And that could only happen if the Wolverine wanted it that way.
She bit down hard on her lip as the familiar ache thudded into her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and refocused on her breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
She tried to keep pace with the shards of pain that continued to stab her head, still tried to convince herself that she could become one with the pain. With a growing sense of horror, she could feel bile rise up inside her. She reached out for the bowl she kept next to her, despite knowing there would be nothing to fill it with.
Incredibly intense, excruciating pain exploded through her skull, her body twisting and bending into itself as she violently threw up nothing. She cried in earnest now, what little composure she had obliterated by the added agony. She whimpered, wanting to die, for her suffering to end.
Just. Please. Stop.
Time passed. The bowl slipped through her fingers and fell to the side as she felt it coming.
thankgodthankgodthankgodthankgod
A wisp of darkness from the back of her mind began to creep forward. Sinking into its nothingness, her last conscious thought was – as it was night after night – that she didn’t die this time; that she made it through another day. A ragged sigh escaped her emaciated form, and she passed out across the hard, mahogany floor.
Minutes passed. The closet door opened slowly, revealing the lithe frame of Kurt Wagner. Catching sight of her on the floor, her tear streaked face now peaceful in its unconsciousness, his frown deepened. Behind him, Scott Summers stepped into the darkened bedroom and pulled down the sheets of the bed, the shadows of the remaining X-Men pouring into the room from where they stood in the doorway.
Kurt gently lifted her into his arms, placing the young woman on the bed and Kitty Pryde pulled the sheets over her best friend. Gasping back a sob, she reached for Jubilation Lee’s hand and the two young women walked quickly away, Piotr Rasputin and Bobby Drake following, solemn-faced.
Professor Xavier sat down in the chair located by the bed; the light from the hallway disappearing as Ororo silently closed the door behind her. He took her gloved hand into his, his voice barely a whisper.
“I won’t lose you too, Rogue.”
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