Hey all. SO so so sorry it took me so long to update this one, I've been busy. So here's the last chapter. Never fear, everything will be explained, I know the first chapter was kinda confusing, it was supposed to be. Huge thanks to Harpiebird and irocksocks for reviewing. Read, Review, Enjoy!
When Warren woke it took a long time for him to realize where he was. When he first opened his eyes all he could see was the blinding florescent light above his head, but then even that was drowned out by the massive headache that suddenly informed him of his presence.
He groaned, although he didn't hear it, and closed his eyes again quickly; almost praying for unconsciousness again was the waves of pain and nausea swept through him.
"Here," said a soft, soothing feminine voice from somewhere above him, "Swallow these." He realized a hand was being held to his mouth, felt the slightly scratchy feeling of cloth against his lips, opened his mouth reflexively and felt two pills being put in. Then there was an arm under his neck, helping him sit a little and drink from the glass that was being held to his lips.
He coughed a little, choking slightly on the water, then laid back with a sigh and prayed that whatever drugs she'd given him would start working soon.
Luckily, before long, they did, at least enough for him to cautiously open his eyes again. To find her worried face hovering over him.
"You," he murmured fuzzily, blinking at her, "You're still here." Then memories of the night before began to float back into his blurry mind. He remembered drinking, going up to the roof, cutting off his wing, then she'd come… oh god, how much had he had to drink? After she'd showed up, that's when his memory began to get really fuzzy.
"You asked me to be," she said, her voice, it was so beautiful, so gentle, an angel's voice.
"W-What exactly happened?" he found himself asking, although from the blurred flashed of memory he was getting, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know.
"Well…" she seemed unsure of how to answer. But that was all right, his mind was slowly filling in all of the blurred, awful details of it.
"Never mind, I remember now," he moaned, saving her from trying to fumble through an explanation. God, how could he have done those things, said those things?
"You broke your leg," she told him softly, "When we fell."
When I pushed you, he thought, but said nothing.
"And a few ribs, Hank said, but you should be fine. He even said your wing should grow back in time," she sounded like she was trying a little too hard to be cheerful.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, attempting to make his eyes focus on anything but her face.
She shrugged and said simply, "You were drunk," as though that made it all right. He still didn't meet her eyes.
"But… I was wondering," she continued hesitantly, "Up there, you-you kept acting as though you knew me, I mean, that could have just been the alcohol, you could have thought I was someone else, but I was just wondering…" she fumbled, her words coming too fast as though she was afraid she might loose the nerve to say them. Her eyes were scanning his face, trying to find the answers she sought there. "It wasn't just the alcohol… was it?" she asked after a moment of waiting for a response and not getting one, "But I've never talked to you before in my life."
"Actually," he corrected quietly, "You have."
"What? When?" she asked. There was a faint crease between her eyebrows and Warren found his eyes drawn irresistibly towards it.
"It was five months ago," he said, his voice was soft. He shifted, struggling to sit up so as to be in a more comfortable position to talk. Automatically she reached out to help him. Once he was settled, he continued, "Well, four months and twenty-eight days, to be exact."
She frowned, obviously trying to remember what she'd been doing four months and twenty-eight days ago. Then her face cleared slightly, then clouded even more with confusion, "I was in line, to get the cure," she said. He nodded. She shook her head, "But then I left, I chickened out."
He nodded again. "As you were walking away, somebody came out of an alley and asked you-"
"Asked me why I'd changed my mind," she finished, remembering. She stared at him, new realization and wonder filling her eyes.
Warren nodded for a third time, "And you told me, that if getting the cure was what it took for people to love you, then-"
"They weren't worth my time," she finished for him again in amazement. But then she frowned again, once more going over the conversation, if you could call it that, of the night before. "But you were acting like I'd stopped you from… from… before?" she shook her head in confusion.
"That day, when I asked you," he said, studying his hands, "I was considering going back to my dad, telling him I'd changed my mind. But your words convinced me not to. So I decided to find someplace else, start a new life."
"Here."
He nodded. "But it didn't work so well. I tried; I tried as hard as I could. I watched you, I watched the way that asshole treated you, I watched while you cried over him, but I could never work up the courage to speak to you, since you obviously didn't remember me. And I couldn't escape, my dad kept calling me, trying to convince me. It all just built up. Then…" his voice faltered, "That's when the dreams started."
"Dreams?" Rogue asked.
"They were different, every time. How I chose to did it. The roof, the bathtub, a knife, water, the ground, pills, every way possible. But one thing, one thing was always the same," his voice lowered to a whisper so soft she had to lean forward to be able to hear him, as he carefully studied his hands in his lap. "Every-every time, just before I died, an angel would show up. She was so beautiful, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," he glanced up at her now, though he didn't quite meet her eyes. His eyes were shining with something, something she couldn't quite place. Admiration? Infatuation? No, Love, his eyes were shining with love.
"And she would just stand there," he continued, his voice reverent, "And she'd ask me, she'd say, 'What are you doing?' and I'd tell her, 'Ending this miserable, worthless existence,' I'd say. Then she'd just shake her head, and smile, such a beautiful smile. Her head cocked slightly to one side, smiling innocently at me, she'd say, 'If that's what it take for them to love you, then it isn't worth it.'" His hands, clasped in his lap were shaking as he stared at them and whispered, "But she was always too late. That smile was always the last thing I saw as I died."
Rogue said nothing; she wasn't sure what to say. She was still confused, not quite making the connection, and she was beginning to wonder if Warren was really insane.
But then he looked up at her, and now he did meet her eyes, and there was an odd, gentle smile on his lips, that soft love still dancing in his eyes, and he said quietly, "That angel was you."
"Me?" she asked in amazement, shocked, "I'm no angel."
"But you saved me," he said simply, as though that was all it took, "So when I saw you last night, well, I began to think that I was just dreaming again. But I didn't want to be, I really was ready for it all to just be over."
Rogue was silent for a long minute, and Warren said nothing either. He seemed to be waiting, quite patiently, for her to process things, for her reaction. "Right before you passed out," she whispered at last, "You begged me to still be here when you woke up…" she trailed off, leaving her question to her tone.
He smiled, a smile that immediately made her heart back. "Who wouldn't want to wake up to the face of an angel?" he said.
At that her cheeks became very red.
He lifted a hand, gently brushing at the blush. Instinctively she pulled back, but he didn't let her. "Shh," he murmured, smiling, "You won't hurt me." She wanted to protest, she knew she should pull away again, but her body refused to obey her. And so she sat frozen while he caressed her cheek, practically quivering as she waited for that awful cry of pain, that look of terror they always gave her when it began to happen. But that never came. Only Warren's face, slowly coming closer, and closer, until gently, their lips met.
When at last they separated, Warren didn't draw back all the way, instead he ran his fingers through her hair, smiling at her.
"Will you always be there when I wake up?" he asked quietly. His voice was quiet and gently, but his eyes held fear, fear that she would say no, that she would disappear and leave him alone again.
"Will you try to kill yourself again?" she asked, her tone matching just as perfectly as the look in her eyes did.
"Not as long as I have you," he whispered, and he meant it.
She smiled. "Then yes," she answered, "I will always be there."
"Good," was all he had time to whisper before their lips met once more.
The End
