BAD OLD SUMMARY: After Apocalypse thing, Rogue's powers are slipping ever more from her control, and she, from her own mind. Over all, it seems that Rogue would do "anything" for it to "stop". loads of Remy in process
Rogue looked up. The ceiling was white, and Rogue's green eyes bore into it's surface, her smooth pale forehead slightly strained from the effort of frowning. Trying to ignore the energetic freshman that stood next her bed was Mission Impossible, even for the Rogue. For Kitty, that evening, was rambling about what she could wear for her date with Lance.
Rogue slowly shifted her gaze away from the imperturbable ceiling and towards her friend Kitty, who, at that moment, was staring at her reflection, scrutinising her pink strap top, and trying to decide if it looked better than her green one.
Seeing that Kitty was in a fix, and that she might be able to get the freshman to leave sooner, Rogue tried to give her humble advice. "Don't worry, what ever ya wear, he'll have his tongue tied up in knots by looking at ya," said Rogue, praying that Kitty would take the hint. Of course, she could have said this just to please Kitty –which was secretly the case- but she actually did it to satisfy the Lance psyche that was stuck her head. He was presently drooling, and it was freaking her out.
"This is, like, special, I 'really' want it , like, to work," said Kitty taking her pink top off for a blue one with fluffs at the end of the sleeves. Rogue thought that it looked repulsing.
"Not that one..." Rogue said with distaste, or was it Kitty's psyche that had just whined?
"When did you come up with any taste?" Kitty took off the blue one anyway and tried a black one. "This one is, like, too morbid, I don't know even why I bought it!" It was flung in the corner of the room.
"Ah don't mind it," Rogue said getting up and rescuing it from its corner. She lifted it up. It had long sleeves and a deep collar. Right, maybe a little too deep for wearing at the institute. She was sure they had some kind of restrictions concerning clothing.
"Have it," Kitty offered. She had now a white tunic on. "This will be, like, just fine. Now, what about the pants..." She looked through a couple of draws before coming up with some dark blue ones. "Perfect... No..."
Rogue's head was swarming with the names of clothes, colours, shapes and sizes that Kitty had tried on. Worse, the absorbed Psyche Kitty in her head was raving mad, trying to push through the mass of other psyches to be able to help her solid counterpart, who was now giving the last touches to her make-up. Rogue jumped into her jogging trousers, put sweatshirt on and tied her sneakers up.
"Ah'm going jogging," she announced, without giving Kitty another glance. She walked down to the front of the Mansion. A couple students scurried out of her way, Rogue was now wearing a deep scowl, trying to put her screeching Kitty away in the back of her mind.
Finally outside and in the open fresh air, Rogue did some stretching, warming up, hands over her head, before jogging away in the Mansion's grounds. Kitty Psyche had calmed down as she got bored with Rogue's new activity, only to be replaced by Logan barking orders and threats to continue running until she dropped. Nothing out of the ordinary.
As it got dark, sun disappearing behind the horizon, the lamps set up on Grounds were lit so that Rogue could easily find her way and prevent any tripping, falling, or bumping into trees and bushes. She breathed heavely, letting the sent of the day's flowers wash over, and the new fresh air fill her lungs. It was a perfect –from a scenic point of view- evening.
She stopped next to the lake, did some more stretching, let herself slide down onto the grass and then proceeded to watch the shimmering gold reflections that poured on the dark water from the side lamps that were set up at regular intervals.
"That's all?" Logan asked from inside her head. "Don't do enough exercise, surprised ya can still move yar butt from your room, Kid. Ya just stay in there all day..." mumbled Logan to himself and then retreated.
And then there was silence. Rogue sighted and lied down. It felt good. No Kitty whining, no Lance drooling, no Logan barking, no Jean teddy bear thoughts, no Scott moral... She wasn't even counting the dozen other voices that would spontaneously spoke. Ah, and the professor... Rogue was glad he kept quite, most of the time.
The past three weeks, the voices in her head had become clearer, sharper, and at those times, Rogue didn't know who she was anymore. Someone would call out for Jean, and Rogue would turn around. She would sit down in the school's cafeteria with her tray and find it full of vegetarian stuff. And then it struck her, she could hardly remember her "own" childhood.
Rogue looked blankly out. She shivered and not because of the cold.
"Chère should do like Remy," Gambit broke the silence. "Talk in the third person before he forget' his own name." Was that meant to be sarcastic? Maybe it wasn't.
Rogue snarled. She didn't need to do that so she would be able to remember her OWN name. "Ah still know it's..." She stopped, panic slightly raising. She couldn't remember her name, her real name, who she was, is. No, she was Rogue now, she wasn't one person, she was a couple at the same time, she was like a bottle, just a recipient for other people to fill up.
"Rogue, this will leave when your powers will be fully developed. You will be able to separate the two and see clearly. Patience is all you need," said the professor's voice soothingly.
Rogue hissed. Even for Apocalypse, she'd been a bottle from which he'd "drank". Since that frightful day, Rogue had been empty, the voices had left, it had been a miracle, a very good vacation. But they slowly crept back, louder than ever. Rogue wondered if, while the voices had been gone, her powers had been dampened. She still hadn't dared try out. If they had been dampened, she would hug Logan, she decided, for she had heard, just before she'd slipped into unconsciousness by Apocalypse's touch.
Maybe she could find out if she just "accidentally" grazed Kitty's skin... It wouldn't do much harm.
"Sheila, just get over it!" St John Psyche said.
"No!" Kitty screeched! "Rogue, don't! If 'we' are back, so are your powers!"
"Don't worry chère, when Remy got his po'ers, he' just blow up everything he touch." His voice seemed melancholic, sad, something Rogue had never heard in him. Gambit was the rare psyches, including Magneto's Xavier's and Logan's psyches, of which Rogue could not get access their memories. They knew how to hide them. As for Logan Logan, well, he couldn't even remember his own past.
"But how did ya manage to control them?" she asked.
"With time, chère."
The Logan in Rogue's head growled something that sounded like "Liar."
Remy did not answer, or try to defend his word deciding to disappear in the jumble of psyches that was Rogue's brain.
"Cheer up!" Pyro said. "Don't go all flimsy on us!"
"Ice cream cheers me up," Kurt added.
Rogue, still lying down on the grass, looked up into the dark sky, trying to ignore the cacophony echoing in her head. She pressed her index fingers each side of her head, massaging against the headache that would soon appear. They started to get louder, more psyches peeping up, some starting to argue... Oh, how she would do anything to be normal, to not have them in her head, to be able to touch...
But don't we all know better than to not wish for something we might regret, using the term "anything".
Well, what do you think? Getting pretty crowded in Rogue's head, ain't it? Review, and if anyone has any special request/ idea concerning your favourite characters (Rogue and Gambit, of course!) and others, type in and I might mix it up with the rest. Because like, when I read something, it's like: "oh! If only..." Say it out loud and I'll see to it! Of course, the chapter is a bit short... But don't worry, they'll get longer, this like a prologue...
Update : Revised this chapter, tried to sort out Grammar, spelling Mistakes. And with a little luck, you might think that my writing has improved since the last time you crossed this particular chapter.