She stares at the ceiling overhead, brown eyes drifting closed as she thinks back on all the things she’s seen today. After the failed attempt to convince a 15 year old with the ability to control currents in water to come back with them to Xavier’s, Marie and Jubilee had went back to their hotel to grab a seat at the bar. There were big bay windows. People, pools, miniscule human contact that everyone else takes for granted. Jubilee, to her credit, didn’t suit up and join the others. The girl was a really, really good friend.
“California sucks,” she whispered, to no one in particular.
“Whaddya mean?” Jubilee asked.
Marie lifts herself up onto her elbows, eyes scanning the expensive hotel room before settling on her friend. She gestures lazily toward the television where some Hollywood teeny boppers are coming out of a bar, hanging all over each other, cameras flashing non-stop.
“Look at them. They’re too drunk to appreciate it!” she huffs, “All that skin, all that touching, and they have no idea what they’re taking for granted. Which is exactly why I hate coming to places like this. It’s almost too much.”
Jubilee, once again, lives up to her reputation. Without an ounce of fear, she crawls over to where Marie is sprawled over the bed, grabs a throw blanket and wraps the other girl up into a hug.
“I know it’s rough, chica. We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
Marie settles into her friends embrace, “It’s just they have no idea. I would give anything for just one day. Just a day, to be like that. Oh, what I would do…”
Moments later she’s shaking off the melancholy. “Enough of me wallowing in my own misery.” She plants a quick kiss on her friend’s blanket covered hand, “Have I told you lately how great a friend you are?”
“Not in the last few hours,” Jubilee replies, snatching the remote off the floor and flipping through the channels.
“Remind me to do that,” she hops off the bed and heads into the bathroom. A few seconds later, she emerges, and checks the time. “Up for some Chinese?”
“Always, you know I love the stuff.”
“I just got a hankering for pork fried rice, and it won’t go away.”
An hour later, they’re seated in a small Chinese restaurant boasting a name that neither of them could read, let alone pronounce.
“This place is really nice, very traditional.”
“Hell chica, I wouldn’t know. What, are you gonna ask me to read the other side of the menu next?”
Marie flashes her a glove covered finger, and giggles erupt from their table, earning glares and looks that had been heretofore avoided. Well, as avoided as possible considering that one of them is covered practically head to foot in the middle of July, and one is running around in a bright yellow tank and matching short gloves.
A waiter comes around and brings their food, and there’s silence for the next twenty minutes while they inhale everything on their plates, broken only by a muffled ‘mmmm’ or ‘ahhhh’ every few seconds.
“Now for the best part!” Jubilee announces as she pushes her plate away and grabs the fortune cookies in the center of the table. She tosses one to Marie, and digs in, cracking the sweet shell and unfurling the small slip of paper. She pops a small chunk of cookie into her mouth then groans, annoyed. “Ugh, that is sooooo cliché. What about yours?”
“Same here,” Marie replies reading her own fortune. “‘Be careful what you wish for, the future is full of surprises.’”
“I don’t know why I expected anything different from ‘True love is hard to find, you must seek it in yourself first.’ Maybe because this place looks so authentic, guess that’s what I get for stereotyping.”
“Let’s get outta here,” Marie says, and tosses enough money on the table to cover their tab. She and Jubilee leave the restaurant, and after a moment of indecision, take a left. They’re walking for fifteen minutes before Jubilee lets Marie know she’s uneasy.
“It’s later than I thought,” Jubilee squeaks out, “It’s really dark out now. I think I missed a turn.”
“Maybe,” Marie agrees, looking up and down the dark street. “We can’t be that far off course, let’s back track.”
After about five minutes of walking back in the direction they came and not happening upon familiar territory, they’re starting to get edgy. Jubilee starts digging in her pockets for her cell phone to call a cab.
Marie settles down on a bench, and watches as her friend sprawls out next to her. Brown eyes dart around them again, and she tugs on the edges of her gloves. She tries to tune out Jubilee’s chatter figuring out where exactly they were. She notices how deserted the street is, and is about to say something when her attention is immediately captured.
She becomes aware of two things simultaneously. The first, is the cold feel of metal against the back of her head, the second is the clatter of plastic as the phone Jubilee has been speaking on is knocked from her hand. She freezes, and watches out of the corner of her eye as her friend is hauled backwards over the park bench and out of her view. Panic white and hot rises into her throat, but the barrel of the pistol warming from her body heat stops her from doing anything.
“Stand up!” Comes the harsh command from behind her, and she feels a large strong hand grasp her elbow and yank her out of the seat when she doesn’t comply fast enough. She’s shoved backwards, toward the alleyway, where she stumbles and falls into the filth. She knocks her head on the rough brick, and wonders absently why people always feel the need to knock her unconscious. Her attention is drawn back to the situation at hand when Jubilee is thrown onto the ground next to her.
“Empty your pockets!” The man screams. “Give us all your jewelry and cash. Make it easier on yourself, don’t fight.” Marie looks over to see Jubilee’s pleading eyes, her hands were tied behind her back, rendering her nearly useless. Marie decides that this is not the first time that she had much more exposed skin than just her face.
“Move!” the word is accompanied by a kick in the head, and Marie fights off the sparkles behind her eyes, blinking to keep unconsciousness at bay. The movements are sluggish, but she manages to empty her pockets and dump everything on the floor in front of her. She tries to get a good look at her attackers, but they’re wrapped up as tight as she is, with the lovely addition of ski-masks. Bastards.
“Your friend too. And move a little quicker unless you want another knock.” His voice is harsh, and close to her face. The smell of his breath makes her want to wretch. She feels her vision swim as she tries to focus on him. Something isn’t right, every time she tries to focus everything goes blurry. It’s as if her vision is in an unfocused state … like when you have to see one of those magic eye posters.
She struggles to see, thankful for her gloves as she quickly removes Jubilee’s earrings, her bracelets are behind her back, and she hopes they won’t notice. She empties the other girls pockets and places everything on the ever growing pile in front of her.
“That all of it?” the man asks, glaring at her. At least she thinks he was glaring, her vision is whirling away from her again, and reaches a hand up to her head, rubbing slightly. She tosses her hair and rubs her neck, nodding at the man. Anything to get him to leave them alone.
“Yeah, that’s all…” her voice trails off as she feels the barrel of the pistol again.
“Now, why would you go lying to me sweetheart?” The barrel slides a trail along her face, from her temple to the curve of her neck, it catches on the chain of Logan’s tags and her breath hitches.
“They’re nothin’, just dog tags, I promise, they’re not worth anything. I promise. Please, leave them.” He chuckles at her and reaches out with his other hand, she freaks, then remembers they’re gloved. Bastards. It really is too bad they’re worried about fingerprints.
The chain jerks against her neck and snaps. Tears gather in her eyes, as the man inspects the tags. He laughs and threw them back at her. “They really are worthless. Don’t say I never gave you anything.” His words hurt just as much as his fist when he reaches out and cuffs her in the head again, the butt of his pistol connecting with her left temple, the wall connecting with the right.
For a few seconds it’s touch and go, as she wars within herself for her vision. When she’s able to focus, Jubilee’s screaming at her, and the small pile is gone. She clutches the tag in her hand, and it’s a few harrowing seconds before her searching eyes land on a still struggling Jubilee. She braces herself on the wall trying to balance her vision enough to grasp a nearby piece of glass and cut through the zip tie holding her friends hands together.
Finally free, Jubilee dashes to the end of the alley, looking for their attackers, but comes back empty handed with a worried look on her face.
Marie cradles her head in her hands, fading in and out of awareness. The last thing she hears is Jubilee using the communicator on her yellow leather wrist band to call for Jean and the Blackbird.
Marie opens her eyes the merest slit, struggling with her surroundings to come into focus. She’s starting to think that this is getting ridiculous. Her vision comes into focus for a moment, and she sees brick. Apparently she’s still in the alleyway, and she wonders why they haven’t gotten her up yet.
She feels hands shifting her, and hears Jeans soft voice above her dolling out instructions. Frantically she wonders who all’s here, and why can’t she move. She begs silently for no one to accidentally touch her. Even semi-unconscious she doesn’t want to hurt anyone.
The sound of Jubilee crying reaches her ears, and Marie wants nothing more than to tell her friend that she’s going to be fine. A little rest and Jean will have her right as rain, but she still can’t fucking move. Her mouth isn’t even trying to form words, and her arms won’t move, and she can’t even keep her damn eyelids open. Fuck, she curses them as she’s lifted.
She remembers that she was gripping the tags, and prays that she still has them. Maybe they were tangled around her fingers, maybe Jubilee has them. She concentrates but can’t feel them in her hand, but that doesn’t matter because she isn’t feeling her hands at all and she assumes it from being hit in the head so many times.
Is her face that irksome that it causes people to hit, and kick it? Why does the sight of her make people want to knock her head into walls?
She feels the blackness closing in again and she is being carried. She welcomes it.
When she slips back into consciousness, she is greeted by the familiar sounds of the Blackbird, but doesn’t know if they’re taking off, or landing, or still flying. She can’t force her eyes open this time, but Marie can still hear the muffled sounds of Jubilee’s crying, so she hasn’t been out for that long.
She hears the familiar sound of metal scraping on metal and does a little happy jig in her head. She feels much calmer knowing that Logan is here. She wonders suddenly why he hasn’t touched her yet. Not that she wants him to, she hates hurting him, but she’s surprised he hasn’t tried yet. She realizes that people around her are talking, it’s Jean and Scott. They’re close to her, and possibly whispering, although they could be screaming and she doesn’t know how they would sound through the gray haze of pain fogging her mind.
“No, this is her brain Scott. I’m not risking it.” Definitely Jean, and she’s angry. Not common.
“I’m telling you, Logan is right. It’ll help.” Wow, that is one comment no one thought would ever leave Scott’s lips, but ‘Ole One Eye tends to surprise us every now and then. Like that time he started the food fight in the cafeteria.
“As much as it pleases me greatly to find you and Logan in agreement on something, I’m not risking her brain on him touching her.” Bing. Marie knew it, the had to be a reason that Logan hadn’t brought her around by now. She forces herself to pay attention to the rest of the conversation. She can feel herself fading, and wants to know more before she passes out again.
“Logan’s healing hasn’t done anything to heal any possible brain damage he has. You don’t have years of amnesia for nothing. The brain is very complex. On top of that, we still don’t know exactly how Rogue’s skin works. With the level of possible brain damage, the draw on her powers could put her body at an even greater risk…”
No, no, no! Marie fights to stay awake, she needs to hear this. Damn…
She feels the blackness closing in again and Jean’s voice is silent now. She fights it.
Finally, she’s awake again. A quick scan of her body tells her that she still can’t feel anything, and that she still can’t move either. Her eyes won’t open so she concentrates on the noise around her. He hearing seems clearer every now and then, maybe it’s noises that are closer.
The sound of wheels rolling across smooth surface echo’s off the walls and into her ears. She’s in the lower levels on her way to the Med-Bay. Her mind is swirling around her, images flashing so fast she can’t make out anything but a jumble of colors. Unconsciousness beckons again, she strains to stay awake, but no ones talking, so she surrenders.
Her mind is a chaotic mess. Thoughts and feelings and things she can’t control. This shit really pisses her off. She doesn’t understand how to control the others in her head. It scares her. She’s scared. She keeps trying to hide, trying to run, but unfortunately you can’t run from your own mind. Even the oblivion of sleep is evasive. The more she comes out of her haze, the louder the voices around her get. It’s a cacophony of noise and ears can’t distinguish one from the other. And who talked this loud anyway, aren’t we in the Med-Bay by now?
She finds she can finally, finally, move again and brings her hands up to her ears. “Ahhhhh…” the shout rips itself from her throat. If everyone would just stop talking. Suddenly an onslaught of fearful exclamations assaulted her. Logan growls, it echoes off the walls repeatedly.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up…”
“Rogue, open your eyes. I need you to open your eyes for me.” Jean’s voice. Soft and soothing it makes Marie wonder how she can sound calm and scared at the same time.
She cracks her eyes open just a bit. “Jean… Jean please, just tell them to be quiet. Please, quiet.”
Jean pushes her glasses up a little further on her nose and darts a glance around. Marie watches her eyebrows draw together in confusion as she meets her eyes again. “Rogue, honey. No one is talking.”
Marie glared at the pretty doctor. “I’m not an idiot Jean, and I’m not deaf. I just want them to shush so I can concentrate.” She pauses, using her fingers to massage her temples. “Please, it’s just so loud.” She gritted her teeth, “Scott, for the love of God, please shut up, I’m FINE!”
She squeezes her eyes shut again, a whimper escaping her throat. There is a constant low growl as Logan mumbles to himself.
“Rogue,” she heard Scott again, “I didn’t say anything.”
“Scott, I heard you. ‘What is happening to her? Why is she hearing things? Is she going to be ok? What is wrong with her?’ you keep repeating the same damn thing and it’s getting annoying.” She keeps her eyes closed, rubbing her knuckles into them. “Please, Scott. Just be quiet. Logan, that goes for you too. The mumbling and growling isn’t helping anything.” She hears shuffling across the room, and recognizes the sound of the doors sliding open and closed.
“Rogue, just sit tight for a minute. I need to go talk to Scott.” Jean says, Marie moves her hands and watches the doors swallow her whole.
Silence. Blessed silence. She rubs her temple again. Minutes pass. She finds herself wondering how long they’ve been landed. How long was she unconscious this last time. The doors slide open again, and Jean comes in. She pauses, staring at Marie for a moment before walking to her desk and taking a seat.
“Can you hear anyone now, Rogue.”
She’s got to be kidding. Marie levers herself up into a sitting position, and eyes the doctor. “No. There’s no one here Jean, who would I hear?” She rubs her forehead again. “Look Jean, can I go? Please, I think I just need some sleep.”
“Absolutely not, no sleep for 24 hours. Concussions are nasty things. They can kill you. As it is, I’m worried about possible brain damage.” Jean’s voice was stern, all business.
Marie feels her heart skip a beat. Brain damage? She knew it couldn’t have been good to take that many blows to the head. “What are you talking about Jean?”
“Rogue, earlier, when you were begging the others to stop talking, there really was no one talking. I think that your concussion caused some problems with your mutation.”
Marie stares at Jean, her mouth has fallen slightly open and she just sits in shock for a moment or two. Suddenly her mouth closes with an audible snap. “Like, how?” she asks, releasing a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.
Jean stands, and takes a step toward her. Marie stiffens drawing a breath. She’s not sure if she likes this. Jean’s not going to touch her, right? She wouldn’t dare, would she? Marie looks down and realizes that at some point they’ve stripped her. She’s wearing nothing but a white hospital gown. Great, everyone on the team has now seen her very nearly naked. Thanks, Jean.
Which brings her back to the fact that Jean is coming ever closer. She starts approximating in her head. Four feet. Three. Tw- “Ahhh-” Immediately the voices are back. And with them, dawning realization. Jean takes a step back and the noise is gone, makes a note on the chart. It’s nothing like having the three personalities in her head she already does. They don’t linger, but it’s literally a bunch of people talking at once, but they don’t blend together to form a low murmur, like in the cafeteria. They are each distinct and poignant, but indecipherable.
One thought burns through her in her aftermath. Ok, two. First, “How do you do it Jean?”
Jean glances up from the chart she’s studying. “Do what?” Obviously the woman wasn’t paying her any damn attention.
“Deal. With the voices.” This time Jean actually gives her a bit of attention. Her eyes narrowed.
“How many do you hear?”
“You mean other than the three I normally hear?” she snorts, “When you come near me, it’s like I can hear everyone in the mansion.” She looks down, glowering at her glove covered hands. “It’s actually rather ironic, not only can’t I touch without stealing peoples lives, Now I can’t even be near them without stealing people powers.”
But, Jean wasn’t listening. She was scribbling on her notepad. Then that specific brand of concentration comes over her face, the type that you just know means she’s having some internal conversation with the Professor. Which means he’s coming down here. Which means she can’t just wallow in her own self resentment in a dark corner somewhere. The next few days are going to suck.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
This is an old story that I'm picking back up again. I've got some chapters pre-written. I'll be updating this when I finish posting those!
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is the first Chapter. I've got a few more written that I'll be posting over the next few days. I didn't write it in here, but Marie is 21 in this story. Jubes is just a few years younger.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading come back soon for the next chapter!