There was a time when she'd wished for someone else to understand her pain. For someone else to know how it felt to spend day and night wrapped in fabric that was heavy and hot and restrictive--and there for everyone else's safety.
There were times, in those lonely days after Logan left for the final time and she knew--she knew in her heart that this time he wouldn't be coming back and this was the time when she had to get over her need for him--there were times where she believed in her heart that if a mutant appeared with her twisted gift, that she could live happily knowing that someone else lived as she did. And maybe, in her heart, she hoped a little--because Xavier and Jean both had telepathy, which meant two people having the same power wasn't impossible.
His name was Shawn. Freckles dusted his generous nose and red hair fell over one eyebrow to cover blue eyes. He burned when he was in the sun for too long and she laughed once at how silly he looked, his forehead peeling and his ears bright red.
He laughed with her, and took her gloved hands in one of his own, and they loved feeling his gloves and her gloves touch because they understood that for the two of them, cloth was skin.
He didn't get along with Scott and Jean, and it was only Xavier's forgiving heart and Rogue's overwhelming love for him that granted him asylum. In the days to come, both suffered guilt over their parts in what would be the downfall of their ways of lives--but Rogue was young and in love, and Xavier was happy to see her that way, and so they let themselves be blinded.
Shawn didn't get along with Scott, and he was far too old for school, so he became the all purpose repair man around the mansion, and any objections anyone had to his continued presence dissolved on the day they discovered that Rogue and Shawn could touch each other, if fleetingly.
It was dangerous, and frightening, and took a lot of trust because if one of them held on too long, they could drain the other one dry--and even though Scott wanted to protest he couldn't bring himself to, because Rogue was happy, and it was such a new and novel thing that no one really wanted it to end.
But it did, as all things do. It ended with Storm, Kitty, and Xavier in a coma while Shawn phased through the walls and buried the mansion under a blizzard, slipping away to give Magneto every thought that had ever rested inside of the Professor's head.
Xavier and Storm woke up.
Kitty lay in a coma for days that dragged into weeks, until Jean offered the tentative opinion that Shawn had taken too much of the younger girl, and the only chance she had was if Shawn were to relinquish his hold on her.
He needed to die. Rogue knew it in her heart, knew it before Jean and Scott sat down with her and told her in gentle voices that offered no accusation, only remorse and support.
She'd made the decision herself, and it was a sign of their desperation that they didn't fight it. Scott agreed to ready the jet. Jean agreed to help her into the uniform she'd worn a few times before. Storm and Jubilee and Bobby rode silently beside her as the jet slid smoothly through clouds and mists alike, going to the last place the Professor had found the remnants of Shawn's mind.
She went in alone, and prayed she'd be strong enough.
"So, I didn't get enough of him." Shawn didn't seem surprised to see her, but he still had bits of one of the strongest telepaths ever sliding through his mind.
"You didn't get enough of him." Her emphasis on the pronoun was obvious, and he quirked an eyebrow and laughed at her.
"So, which one won't be waking up?" He still wasn't moving, but she could see his bare hands as well as he could see hers, and they both knew that the confrontation coming was going to be one that left one of them standing and one of them a husk of a human.
She smiled the feral smile that she remembered from Logan. "You, Shawn. You won't be waking up." And because she knew she was going to lose her nerve, she leapt.
He was bigger and stronger, and he wrestled her to the ground and pinned her hands to the side of her head, his bare fingers resting teasingly just along the line of her flesh. "How do you know it will be me?" he asked so softly, and she wanted to struggle but she was afraid of letting his skin touch hers before she was ready.
He kissed her, his lips sliding against hers in a familiar, horrible way that made her blood heat even as it ran cold. His hands slid to hers, and their fingers entwined as she clutched at him, feeling the power of him rushing into her as her own rushed towards him.
It only took a few moments for her to realize that her life rushing into him was a torrential river, and his into her a placid stream. And in those few moments, she knew she was going to die.
He knew it too, and he pulled back to stare into her eyes. "I did like you, Rogue," he whispered, watching her eyes as his life-force tugged at her own. "I really did--but you were too attached to them. They'd let the humans chain us and lock us up like animals, Rogue. Do you want that?" His fingers tightened on hers, and she started to feel drowsy as she felt memories slipping away, becoming his.
New memories took their place. She saw Charles Xavier as a younger man, saw him reaching out and wrapping his hand around a pale brown set of fingers that she knew were Storm's--were hers--were--
She screamed, and he winced slightly, pulling her hands to that both were trapped under one of his and freeing his fingers to run softly down her cheek. "Not much longer, Rogue. It doesn't hurt, does it?"
She saw herself, sitting terrified at a desk with a slim pencil wrapped in her gloved fingers, and even though there was a boy in the way, she knew that her eyes were transfixed on the little ball of fire suspended above his hand. In a moment she'd have to scold Johnny again, because he wasn't supposed to be playing around during her--Storm's--her history class.
She screamed again, and the fingers slid to cover her mouth. "Shh, Rogue. I don't need them coming in yet."
Rogue? She was Storm. She was Kitty. She was Logan. She was Xavier. She was Eric. She was--
"Shh, Rogue. Almost--"
She was . . .
"Almost, Rogue. It's almost over."
Rouge? No. She was . . .
"I'm not Rogue," she whispered, staring up at the boy above her, the boy she'd trusted enough to let into her school, trusted enough to let court one of her dearest students--
"I know you're not," he whispered. "Tell me, Rogue. Tell me what you see."
She stared up at his eyes. They were--blue.
"Blue," she choked out. It hurt now, it hurt--she felt like she was being sucked dry again, on the Statue of Liberty with Rogue lying nearly dead in her arms. It hurt, it hurt almost as bad as the first time--but let her live. Please let her--
"Tell me what you see."
Red. His hair was red. She'd tried to dye Rogue's hair red one night. It had been silly, but Rogue had been trying so hard to pretend it wasn't because Jean had red hair. It wasn't because Logan flirted with Jean. It was just because she wanted red hair. Rogue had said it so seriously that she and Jubilee had tried to be nice, but--
No. She wasn't Kitty. She was--
"Good bye, love."
She'd said goodbye to Eric when he left.
She'd left Charles and said good bye.
"Good bye, Rogue."
Rogue?
The world exploded and then it collapsed, and the words chased her as she spiraled down into the darkness.
"Tell me what you see."
She saw so much.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Dedicated to: Donna, Nanciwan, Gowdie, Mistika, and Shaz, who have put up with waaay too much of me being temperamental over this gosh darn movie. :) And a special thanks to my big sis and new roommate, Carita.