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Chapter 2: Sum of the Past
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Rogue's face burned as she fled the classroom… She could not believe that she had said all that. Sure, occasionally she and Mr. Summers would pass by each other in the hall; he'd glance at her gloves and the radius of empty space around her body while she looked at his eyes – no, glasses… They both shared a brief moment of acute understanding at those times, but no one at the mansion commented on his glasses/eyes – not even in passing.
The only ones to do so were normal humans, new kids, and stupid/foolhardy people. Let it be noted in the record that St. John and Logan were the only ones to directly bring up Cyclops' eyes after being told about his "condition." Well, Rogue internally amended, Xavier does as well, no doubt, but the school's headmaster and patron was naturally above reproach.
How could one possibly hold a grudge against a man (a cripple no less) who exudes such good will to all? Besides, as with Scott Summers and herself, the Professor was physically limited due to events beyond his control.
Flying through the hallways, Rogue tried to ignore the sight of her fellow students shrinking out of the way as she entered their vicinities. It had been a little over two years since her powers first came into being…
Their first appearance brought on a wave of such shock and pure terror that Marie could barely get herself to function, even after her ex-boyfriend's psyche had settled down into the recesses of her mind. Every second of every day since the discovery of her powers had to be given a pause – every move of her body had to be re-examined before being put into action. Was there anyone near? Would someone get too close? How much skin was showing?
But worse than all of that was the haunting question: can anyone tell that she is not quite… human?
Her family could barely look at her after her first absorption. Disgust was evident; fear was ever-present, and Rogue experienced her first true dose of emotional and physical distance. Her parents kept her in the house for awhile, not letting her go to school or to church, telling everyone in town that she was "sick" and couldn't leave the house on account of her health.
For a little while, being imprisoned within her own house did not bother Marie… How could that compare to being held captive by her own skin? Besides, she didn't want to face the world just then. Innocent Southern girl that she was, Marie felt that one look at her would reveal what she had done, as if her crime were written upon her skin, staining her cheeks even as it tainted her soul.
That was what she was now – a soul-stealer. A life-drainer. Death embodied in a young, female form. She wasn't – couldn't be – Marie any longer.
Thus birthed the emergence of the Rogue.
Quelling any lingering guilt, despair, and fear… Marie pulled forward all the latent aspects of her personality.
Some were characteristics she never needed to use before…
Discovering her persistence, the newly christened Rogue spent several days monitoring her adopted parents' movements during the day and night... they had taken to keeping track of her within the house lately.
After a little while, Rogue had chafed under her internment in her parents' house, thus awakening her ambition. She would escape, flee the town, and make her way north to Alaska as she had wanted to for so long.
Her strategy for the "great escape" came into play on Sunday; with the entire town in church, leaving the house was relatively simple. Though her adopted parents had locked the doors, it was easy enough for Rogue to toss her duffel bag out the kitchen window and then climb out herself.
Then, she patiently waited in the trees and underbrush several yards behind the bus stop, avoiding detection from others until the bus finally arrived. Carrying all the cash she had – and some from her family's collective rainy-day pile, the young mutant took buses, hitched rides, and occasionally walked north, testing her fortitude and running herself ragged.
Rogue also discovered attributes that she never had the opportunity use until she was on the run…
The curiosity of her youth that wondered if she could steal something and actually get away with it became a necessary evil stemming from Rogue's own desperation. With the wad of money in her pocket getting slimmer by the day, the occasional convenience store packet of Hostess cupcakes slipped into her pocket seemed of little consequence to the alternative – namely, starvation.
Over time, her daring increased, although Rogue always made sure to be cautious with every shoplifting job. When she could, she would steal fruit off of trees… but if not, then the girl targeted out-of-the-way convenience stores, preferably a little run down and definitely lacking more modern security measures. Each time she entered one, she played up the innocent Southern girl act, asked about a specific item with particulars unrealistic to the store she entered. Thus, in this guise of innocence and naiveté, Rogue was always "passing through" as she stole from these people with a smile and a kind word.
More startling was the realization of qualities she never knew she possessed…
Born and raised in a small town, Marie had been told her entire life about what was acceptable and what was not. But on the move, seeing so many new things, the point-of-view she had grown up with no longer seemed pertinent. After all, how could Rogue judge others when her own activities had been far from spotless.
Gaining understanding through her own "other-ness" and experiencing so many new things led to her internal rebellion against convention. It was at this point that "Rogue" became the name she thought of herself as.
Yet, with all the travel, paranoia became Rogue's constant companion. Every person she met was a stranger, and she was a stranger to everyone. But still, there was always the feeling that she had to run farther, faster, just in case. There was the fear that someone might be tracking her down because of what she did to her boyfriend or because of her exploits in petty thievery…
But worse was the panic that rose up in her throat whenever someone stared at her. Could they tell that she was different?
Yet despite that terror of discovery, Rogue's untouchable skin became a comfort to her in this time on the run. Every night, whether in the grime of an alley or the shelter of the woods (a place becoming less hospitable the further north she got), Rogue slept somewhat peacefully in the knowledge that she was safe. She was safe from attack, rape, and any other danger that could present itself. Her skin – her curse – became the shield that held back the evils of the world, preserving all the innocence Rogue had left.
It was in Canada that she met the Wolverine. He was in a cage fight in a bar; Rogue could only watch as fists pounded against flesh and bone, yet despite the ferocity of the fights, the Wolverine only had the blood of others splattered on his skin – never his own. Even when the fights turned rougher than any the girl had ever seen, not a bruise or a welt blossomed on his skin. The Wolverine was unconquerable and – though sweaty – unfailingly pristine.
As she watched the man rule the cage, the thought crept into her mind unbidden that maybe… just maybe he was different from most people. Maybe the Wolverine was different in a similar way that she was. For the first time since absorbing her boyfriend, the girl did not feel so alone. The idea buoyed Rogue up, compelling her to wait at the bar…
Doing so wound up changing Rogue's life.
It brought her to the X-Men and to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. The former presented her with an ideal, a goal for the future that was as bright as the path towards it was hard. The X-Men were the means by which mutants protected others, regardless of genetic composition. The idea was enticing, but Rogue already had too many people in her head to believe in it without doubt; she knew better than most the darkness within people – grabby-handed truckers, flirty store clerks, would-be muggers, attempted rapists, good Samaritans, and a good ol' Southern boy were all crammed up in her head.
Yes, the Rogue knew darkness… and she wanted to give the light a try, even if it might be a hopeless cause.
As for Xavier's school, initially it was a dream come true. A community of mutants… and mostly teenage ones? What better place for Rogue to live? But then the truth came out. The Rogue was a freak amongst freaks. Subtly and even obviously, the young woman was feared and avoided in this "haven of mutant-kind."
Being captured and used by Magneto was an abrupt and unpleasant event in the sequence of mishaps and misfortunes that Rogue's life had become. Having the metal-manipulating megalomaniac's mind in her head was excruciating. Setting aside his plans for herself and the fact that briefly – for that one moment in which Rogue became Erik Lensherr – Rogue wanted to sacrifice herself to turn the world leaders into artificial mutants… remembering Erik's past and understanding the reasons for his actions was almost as painful as the machine Rogue had been placed into.
Dying – or nearly dying – at that point had been a relief. Rogue did not want to remember losing her parents in the Holocaust because of Magneto. She didn't want to experience herself becoming a human lab rat because of Logan. She didn't want to live dozens of different lives. She did not want to live her own life.
What pleasure was there in existence if one is not capable of truly living? Touch is life. Touch is how humans know they are alive and not alone. And by this point, Rogue was tired of being alone. Dying would have been a blessed relief.
It was then that Logan forced her to absorb his healing capabilities. All his concern for her, the panic at her dying form, the determination for her to live… it all streamed into her, giving her an updated blueprint of a mind she had already copied into her head. No, she couldn't die now.
In fact, the idea of ending her existence herself never really crossed Rogue's mind; perhaps it was her innate mulishness, but the girl did not intend to perish easily. Death was always something she tried to fight against – especially if her own body was the means of termination. However, now and then she would think wistfully of that moment before Logan healed her on the Statue of Liberty… and how Magneto's machine would have been a wonderful excuse for her to give up.
Now, Rogue was a couple of months from turning eighteen and in her last year of high school. The future was a blank, even as it seemed to already be written out before her.
She would take some online college courses in a field that could somehow benefit the school and the X-Men… And then, she would get a job through the Professor's connections – or maybe even as a teacher in the mansion – and be grateful for it. What other options did she have after all? It is not as though she could put down her mutant powers on a resume and expect employment… Her powers were a danger to others, and as such, Rogue could not expect to lead a normal life.
Finally, Rogue entered her bedroom, shut the door quickly, and slumped down against it to the floor with a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a previously unexplored notion presented itself. Was Scott Summers ensnared into accepting this life just as she was?
It is not as though he could live a normal life with his eye-beams constantly hidden behind ruby-quartz glasses. He was a student here once, Rogue knew. He had no family – or none that the girl knew of. Unlike many of the other mutants at the mansion, Scott Summers could not just traipse home to visit his parents.
He was stuck here, just like her. Mutant High was the only home they both had and the community here their only family. They both had uncontrollable powers that would make assimilation into normal, human society difficult, if not impossible. Like mail-order brides, they were promised to the mutant cause from the moment their turbulent powers emerged. If Xavier had not found them, was it not just as likely that Magneto would have taken them in? Fighting for a cause – any cause – they could relate to was the only way that life became less of a farce. Maybe Magneto's Brotherhood was made up of those that could not possibly belong anywhere else but in the fight for mutant rights…
Yet, as shown by Xavier and Magneto, there was a difference between peacekeeping activists and warmongering terrorists…
Scott, Rogue realized, was like her in so many ways… But somehow, he had found happiness in spite of the odds. He had fought for his happiness and now, with Jean as his fiancé and a life of bliss ahead of him, he was all the more willing to fight for everyone else's happiness as well.
Silently, the young mutant stood up off of the floor and flopped onto her bed. Taking deep breaths to rid herself of the ever-present torrent of thoughts, Rogue decided that maybe it was time she fought for her own happiness – her own future…
The question was… How could she possibly do that?
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