((A/N: Takin' a break from Life Goes On to write down one of the many one-shots that's been plaguin' me lately. Super short, I know, but I hope this is a cause of quality over quantity. ;) This is just the way I see things goin' had we seen any aftermath to Rogue taking the cure. That woulda been the only thing that woulda saved that micro-plot for me, some consequences. Anyways, on with the show!))
What was in a touch? It was something she had longed for for so long, something she had craved. One of the five senses, a basic human need, something so simple that it was often taken for granted. Something she couldn't experience since her powers had manifested without risking injury to the other party. Something she wanted more than anything, something she'd give anything for.
And now she had it. Now she could touch whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted without the risk. She was cured.
So why wasn't she happy?
She could touch Bobby now without hurting him, yet it rarely happened. If he caught her off guard she would flinch or pull away on instinct, and the moment would be ruined. If it was mutual, it was still way too awkward. It was like now that he could touch her he was scared to. But Rogue was through kidding herself. For her, it was the way he looked at her now, the way they all did.
She was no longer one of them.
She was a traitor. By taking the 'cure', it was the same as admitting that mutants were diseased. That there was something wrong with all of them because they still had their powers; that she was better than them now that she didn't.
Rogue had grown used to their fearful looks in the hallways, nobody wanting to get close to her for fear of what she could do to them with just a touch. Now, they avoided her for different reasons. She actually thought she preferred the fear to the scorn and hatred their glances now held.
She had wanted so badly to be normal, but now that she was she no longer belonged here. She was of no use to the X-Men, and the Institute was of no use to her, but where could she go? Would her parents accept her back now that she wasn't a mutant? Would she want to go back to them if they did? They were supposed to love her no matter what. Nobody loved her that way.
She didn't even love herself that much.
Zipping up her luggage, she donned a pair of gloves out of habit before hefting the bag off her bed. It was strange how something she had cursed for so long now seemed to offer her comfort; how something she had wanted for so long only seemed to cause her pain.
Walking down the hallways, she felt their eyes on her but she didn't look. She kept her face forward, her head held high. This time nobody tried to stop her. This time nobody tried to talk to her and make sure she was doing this for the right reasons.
This time she knew she was never coming back.
