They’ve been standing over there for 10 minutes already. She gets a “Good to see you’re back Rogue,” from the professor before Jean drags him over to the far side of the room. Every now and then one of them looks up at her.
She’s getting really annoyed. At least she wasn’t half naked anymore. Jean had sent Jubilee up to her room and Marie is now comfortable attired in pajamas with little monkey’s all over them, and matching yellow gloves. Obviously Jubilee had delved into her own closet instead of Marie’s.
She lets out a huff and glares in their general direction. Of all that’s happened, they still feel the need to censor their conversation. It’s annoying.
“Are you gonna stand over there whispering about me, or are you gonna come tell me what’s wrong with me?”
The professor sighs, nods and moves toward her. He stops five feet away, giving her one of those apologetic smiles that you know means he’s really, really sorry, and it kinda makes Marie feel like shit for being snippy. “Forgive me Rogue, from what Jean says about how you handled her powers…” He trails off. There’s no need to go on.
“Believe me Professor, I appreciate it.” She smiles, but the sadness is still evident in her eyes.
“Rogue, tell me, do you feel any different?”
“Aside from the dull pounding pain in my head, I feel tired, cranky and sorry I’m being such a bitch.” She tells him honestly. What’s the point in lying to a telepath, right?
The Professor rests one elbow on the arm of his hover chair and settles his chin into it. “Rogue, Jean has to concentrate to read someone’s mind. Her stronger power is telekinesis. When you were using her powers, how many voices did you hear?”
Remembering the noise in her head from earlier, she lifts a hand to her head and stares directly into the Professor’s eyes, holding his blue gaze steady for a moment. “I can’t count that high.”
A sharp intake of breath is heard, and Marie looks over to Jean, who has settled herself into a nearby chair. Her hands are shaking, and the doors slide open and Scott bursts into the room.
Marie jumps down and runs across the room to the farthest corner. The rest of the crowd has followed in behind Scott and she realizes that half the mansion must be awake. Logan takes a step toward her, but stops when she flings her arms out in front of her.
“No!” she screams, she doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and knows that she can’t control all of their powers. Her eyes scan the groups, stopping briefly one each one in turn. Logan, Jubes, Remy, Bobby, Kitty, Piotr, Storm, and Scott, all unknowingly scaring the ever living daylights out of her.
“You can’t come near me, I don’t want to phase through the floor, make it rain, or blast a hole in the wall. Please-” she begs as Logan moves closer. Her eyes lock with his golden ones, and he relents. He must have seen something convincing in them.
She drops his gaze and looks pleadingly at the Professor. He nods and turns to address the gathered crowd.
“Rogue has suffered what I can only term, a form of brain damage.” Every eye turns toward the Professor, except Logan, who’s captured her gaze again. She nods slightly as the Professor continues. “It seems that the damage altered her mutation, so that she can absorb powers by, not only being in direct contact, but in close proximity. Everyone must stay at a safety net of five feet from her at all times.”
“That’s bullshit,” Logan finally breaks out of the spell he’s under. He turns to the Professor anger sparkling in his golden eyes. “She has to stay five feet from everyone all the time. It’s bad enough she has to cover herself from head to toe, now she can’t even stand next to someone. SHIT!”
He’s pissed. She can tell, truthfully, she shouldn’t have expected any less. Logan strove to give her as normal an existence as possible. He never let her wear gloves, insisted she wear tank tops and shorts when it was just them. She smiled sadly at him, and hung her head forward, allowing her hair to fall over her face.
She leaned back into the corner and slid down the wall. She hears footsteps, and looks up. “No, Logan.” She says softly.
“You can’t,” Jean pips up, speaking for the first time since learning that she is apparently no where near her peak level of power. “Logan you could hurt her more than help her. We have no clue as to the power of your healing. The brain is too fragile.”
Logan’s knuckles go white with force as he clenches his fists, but he stands still. Barely.
“C-could-” Marie starts, stutters and starts again. “Could everyone leave, please?” They start to file away, hearing the sadness in her voice. She realizes that Logan thinks she means him, and calls out stopping him. “Stay, please.”
He nods, sends her a sad smile, and moves to reach out to her before clenching his fists again and settling into a stool next to the Professor. Marie figures that they’ll both keep far enough away if they stick together. Ironically that the two people she cares for the most, the two that are probably the only ones that can help her are forced to stay the farthest away.
The Professor turns his chair to face her again, and she gathers her strength. “What’s next Professor?”
The man tilts his head, and thinks for a moment. “I would like to try a few things.” He says finally. “Shall we retire to the Danger Room?”
Marie pulls her brows together and snaps her head up too look at him. Her eyes dart from him, to Jean, to Logan. “The Danger Room?”
“Yes come along dear, you have 23 hours to kill.”
Ten minutes later has Marie, standing next to Jean, blissfully almost alone in her already crowded head. The Professors got a block on her, so she doesn’t go all crazy in her mind and end up curled into a ball in the corner holding her ears. He says it’s a temporary block, that he can easily remove, from a safe distance, after Jean goes away.
Jean thinks that they should leave it in place, so that she can treat Marie if something crazy happens. That way they can work on medical things, Jean also thinks that it won’t be hard for her to master the telekinesis. Logan wants to know why he can place a block on her reading everyone’s mind, but he can’t place a block on her powers.
Marie wonders if the block is working, because she’s trying really hard not to think about anything, let alone what Jean or Logan is thinking. She figures that maybe it’s because she’s always wondering what Logan’s thinking, and they’re Jeans powers, so maybe the block is working. Whatever.
She focuses her brown eyes on Jean’s green ones and smiles faintly. “What do I need to know?”
Jean worries her bottom lip between her teeth, obviously choosing her cords carefully. “Everyone controls their powers differently. For Instance, Bobby knows instinctually about temperatures and water properties. Kitty uses her molecules on an individual level. When I use my telekinesis, I concentrate carefully, and try to envision all the dimensions of the object. It’s like when I use it, suddenly my eyes are like little CGI simulators that show every possibly dimension, and where exactly I need to move the object and how. I have to choose a path before I can actually move the object.”
“Hmm…” Marie tilts her head and looks at the small red marble a 15 feet in front of her, it’s small swirled with white. It makes her want to line up more and start a game. She assumes this is from Erik, she’s never touched marbles.
The process that Jean explains happens in a millisecond. She doesn’t examine the object, she doesn’t concentrate, she doesn’t choose the path before it moves. She didn’t even have to think the words. It happened automatically, instinctually. She looks at the small red marble in her hand, and back toward each of the five points the marble bounced off of. Small dents in the floor around where the marble had been set. Five points in a star.
She places the marble in her other hand, she examines the now empty palm. There’s no red mark. The marble landed softly in her hand after 5 hard bounces and a fast trip from 15 feet away.
“Holy shit!” She hears Logan over the speaker system and can’t help but smile a bit. She turns back to Jean, and hands her the marble.
Green eyes study the entire surface and dart up to the Observation Box, where Marie can now see Scott and Storm standing behind Logan and the Professor.
“There’s not a mark on it.”
“Amazing.” The professor is clearly impressed. Wonder how often that happens. “Rogue, your gift is obviously far more powerful that we had originally thought. I suspect that you could control any gift you encounter. Would you care to try Jean’s telepathy?”
Marie shakes her head quickly, “No Professor, whether I’m capable of controlling them or not, I’m not comfortable with possibly being able to cause severe damage like that.” She tries to suppress a shudder and doesn’t quite manage. “No. Plus I was thinking, Jean’s right. Now that we know I can control the telekinesis I’d prefer that you kept the block in place. At least I know that I can be near her.”
She smiles at Jean again. She returns the smile and grabs Marie’s hand. Her smile wavers a bit and she rests her head on the other woman’s shoulder. The appearance of the Danger Room changes and suddenly they are standing in a comfortable library, a large grouping of sofas and chairs appears and Marie settles into one.
The doors open behind her and she hears everyone stumble in. Logan takes a seat as close as he can get, which is still two chairs away. A wave of depression washes over Marie, and she suddenly doesn’t know if she can do it.
The Professor sits on the other side of Logan, and turns his attention toward her once every one is comfortable. “Rogue-” He’s speaking and she’s not listening. She’s looking at Storm, completely comfortable, relaxed, and serene.
She’s watching Jean and Scott, obviously not trying to touch, but unable to help themselves. A brush of a leg, fingers sliding along the back of a hand. Her heart aches as she looks Logan over, brooding into a glass of expensive whiskey he’s managed to get from somewhere. He keeps looking over at her, especially now that she’s sure her scents radiating sadness, discomfort and heartache. He’s got one fist clenched so tightly around the glass she’s surprised it’s not breaking.
She fights the childish urge to rub her fists into her eyeballs to hold off the tears. The pain that she’ll never even have the semblance of normalcy she had before stabs her like a hot poker in the heart. The confidence, the excitement, the awe and wonder from before are gone. She’s no longer excited about her mastery over the telekinesis. All she wants is to be able to crawl into bed with Logan when the nightmares get too bad. To be able to sit with him and watch a movie, a hockey game.
She’s fairly certain that she’s got to be projecting her misery, but she can’t help it. The Professors voice is soft and comforting now. Belatedly she realizes that there’s only one comfort that she wants. She manages to stay in her chair, and knows that Logan can smell her misery by the way the arm of the danger room simulated chair splinters under his free hand. She still amazed he’s managed not to break the glass, but she notices that it’s fuller than it was before.
She can’t control the snort or laughter that escapes her lips at the idea that he managed to get the Professor to let him bring alcohol into the Danger Room.
She realizes everyone is looking at her. She can’t seem to care.
“I need some time to think.” She tells them, then stands to walk out the door. “Logan, will you meet me back in the Med-Bay at-” she glances at the clock on the wall. “lunch?” Six hours, plenty of time.
“Sure” he replies, taking a long drink of the whiskey. “Lunch.”
The door clicks behind her as she heads down the hallway toward the elevator and up to her room for a much needed shower.
6:55 AM, Marie’s Room
Marie’s standing in front of the once foggy mirror staring at her reflection. A cursory once over doesn’t show any signs of change, any signs of damage. There’s no difference from the girl who stood in front of a different mirror, in a different state yesterday afternoon. None except for the large black and blue marks on either side of her head. God, why didn’t anyone tell her she looked like shit?
She dries quickly, pondering how so much can change with so little to show for it. She’s in front of the mirror again. Long black peasant skirt, V-neck light blue top, sheer black scarf, black silk opera gloves. The gloves are a pair of her favorites, Logan bought them. Had told her that the thick lightening bolt embroidered on the out seam reminded him of her. She’d smiled and thanked him, kissed him lightly on his bearded cheek.
She runs a finger over the white bolt, and smiles fondly at the memory. Another quick once over and she’s suddenly hit by the realization that now people can’t get close enough to touch her. She sighs, wishing she could fore-go all the layers, but there’s still Jean, she’s gonna need to be able to be near her and not be afraid. And there’s still all the little kids, they won’t know any better, especially if she goes skin baring.
Then there’s Logan. Jean’s only gonna be able to hold him off for so long. As of yet, Marie’s still undecided on her course of action. Which is why she needs these six hours. A quick glance at the clock, tells her that she’s only got five hours left. Shit, five hours. Grabbing a brush, she pulls it through her slightly damp locks. Trying to arrange them to cover the bruises and failing. She quickly pulls a head scarf from her drawer and ties it on, wondering absently how long she’ll need it. She whirls and heads out into the danger zone known as Xavier’s.
7:45 AM, Communal Kitchen
Marie grabs a muffin out of a large bowl on the counter and settles into a stool. She takes a bite, enjoying the fresh blueberries, letting her thoughts wander. She’s been thinking hard on her situation, taking everything Jean has said about her brain into consideration.
The possibility that it can cause further damage, slip her into a coma, increase the small radius around her. The possibility that it won’t fix it, that nothing will happen. It’s possible that she’s been thinking too hard. She doesn’t hear Piotr enter. She doesn’t even notice when he settles into the seat next to her. Until he slides a tall glass of orange juice in front of her.
She freezes, fear settling over her like a mantle. A really heavy mantle. Her head swivels and her eyes flash at Piotr. He’s gaping in shock at her and she can’t figure out why. Marie reaches up to brush a long strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes and tuck it back into the head scarf. That’s when she sees it.
The glint, like the metal of Logan’s claws. Except adamantium is prettier. Suddenly she remembers why she was afraid of him being so close. There’s not much of her skin showing, but she looks at the patch on her arm and sure enough it resembles steel. No wonder fear suddenly got heavy. Usually it’s a light airy feeling, making her want to take off in flight. And come to think of it, her perspective is a bit higher, not much, but apparently things look different from a few inches up.
She locks eyes with Piotr, only to find his blue orbs studying her. She thinks it’s probably weird to see what you should look like in reverse. He’s staring into her eyes, her now silver eyes, and he smirks at her. She scowls.
“How do I turn it off.”
“How did you turn it on?”
“What kind of question is that? I have no idea.” She’s annoyed again. Can’t he just open that big Russian mouth of his and tell her, not ask her all kinds of round about questions.
“Rogue, treat this as the learning experience it is. What happened when you turned it on?” His gaze is boring into her, willing her to answer him. It’s not surprising when she does. They’ve always been able to talk.
“I didn’t realize you were here until you passed the orange juice over.” She says thoughtfully, “I freaked, froze like I always do. No one realizes how scared I get sometimes when you guys get too close.” She’s thinking again. “So, it’s instinctual?”
Piotr’s still watching her, she thinks he’s remembering but she can’t be sure. “It wasn’t for me. I had to consciously think I wanted something for protection. Came in very handy one winter at home, when I went without a coat. I had to train myself. Like Kitty, she's trained herself. With you, it’s like instinct. You felt the urge to need protection from something and you changed. I have to actually think about it.”
“So, I could turn it off, what? By wanting to?”
“Yes, more or less. It’s easier to turn on than off. You have to think about it. Or I do. We could practice, if you’d like.” She does as he suggests and the metal melts away. She feels lighter again.
“Piotr, can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Do you think I should let Logan heal me?” She asks him, sighing. She takes a drink of the orange juice and chews a bite of muffin while she waits for his answer. The taste of the blueberries explode in her mouth.
“I think that you should do what’s best for you.”
“Oh, yeah. Heaps of help you are,” She snorts. “It’s just, Jean says it dangerous. That it could cause more problems. Like, increase my ‘radius’, or put me in a coma, or it might not even work.”
“Jean is a smart woman,” Piotr says thoughtfully, “and a good doctor.”
“Yeah, I know,” she’s picking at a loose thread on the edge of her skirt. “It’s just, not everyone’s powers are like yours. Not controlling your powers doesn’t hurt anyone. What about being near Jubilee? If my mutation makes me able to instinctually control everyone’s powers, then I could get annoyed and send fireworks out, I could burn people. Or like Bobby, I could accidentally freeze someone, and really hurt them.”
She’s practically ready to cry now and she slides her brown eyes over to meet Piotr’s blue ones. “That scares me.”
Her statement is simple, and truthful. She’s scared. Piotr shifts his form, and she feels cool metal touching her forehead as he places a kiss there. “You will figure it out, Rogue. I’m sorry that I could not help you more.” He turns and leaves the kitchen, leaving Marie to ponder her situation.
8:36 AM, Storm’s Garden
After spending another twenty minutes in the kitchen brooding, Marie decides a lift in spirits is in order. Which is why she’s now standing amid the vivid blooms and lush greens of Ororo’s personal garden.
Spring is beautiful in Westchester. Her gloved fingertips caress a bright blue tulip as she absently blows on the streaming mug in her hands. Coffee, sweetened with sugar and milk. It’s not Irish, the way Logan sometimes likes it. Her mother used to say that she likes ‘a little bit of coffee with her cream and sugar’, except now she makes it a lot stronger. Consequences of having absorbed Logan so much, she assumes.
She sips the coffee as the familiar buzz of the Professor’s hover chair reaches her ears. She turns toward him, sitting as he is across a small rainbow colored expanse of tulips, lilies, roses, and shiny green ivy. Ironically it’s just far enough across to remind her that she’s a leper in every sense of the word. People shouldn’t come near her, and she still has to wrap herself up. She shakes off the thought.
“Hello, Professor.” She sends him a smile that actually reaches her eyes, she loves this man who’s been more of a father to her than her own.
“Hitting the caffeine already I see.”
“Well, if Jean’s gonna make me stay up for 24 hours.”
“It’s necessary, I’m afraid.”
She sighs, loudly. “I know, head trauma and all that. It’s just annoying. Everything is annoying,” she mumbles. She’s trying to maintain a cheery outlook. It would be such a shame to bring depression to the lovely scene around her. She takes another sip of her coffee, it’s still too hot to gulp, and tries to organize her thoughts.
Seeing her brows knit in concentration, the Professor sits patiently, knowing she’ll talk when she’s ready. Its several minutes before she does.
“I think I’m going to let Logan get close to me at lunch,” she tells him. She’s still uncertain, it’s written all over her face, spelled out in her eyes. “Mostly because I can’t not let him,” she clarifies. The Professor nods his head, but stays silent.
“It’s not that I don’t think he’ll listen, although I don’t think that it’s Jean’s edict that he’s not allowed that’s keeping him away. He’s afraid of hurting me.” She pauses, there before continuing. “I can’t not let him, because I need him to be close to me. Especially now, when I’m uncertain, and still scared. He’s my rock. My immovable foundation. It’s killing him, not to be able to help me.”
She kicks a stray pebble with her bare foot, and moves over to a bench, being sure to keep the same distance between her and the Professor. Whether or not she instinctually controls other powers. She doesn’t want to wish desperately for everyone to shut up and send them all into a coma with her subconscious. That’s a lot of people in a 250 mile radius. They’d probably haul her off to jail.
At least in jail, they’d enforce the 5 foot radius. She won’t have to bottle up her skin anymore.
“Rogue.” The Professor admonishes. She blushes and turns away. She really needs to get her mind under control. She’s probably shouting at him. “You are.”
“I’m sorry, Professor. I’m just a bit, preoccupied.”
“It’s understandable Rogue. Just remember that your decision is based only on you. No one else.” He smiles that serene smile at her and turns away.
Marie stares after him for a few minutes, lost in thought. She takes another sip of her coffee, and realizing it’s at the perfect temperature, downs the rest of it. Another cup is in order.
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