Disclaimer: I do not own anything. ANYTHING!!!
A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, especially Remy's Rose and Professor Horatio Hufnagel. I hope I didn't give you a heart attack. The climax was very ...climactic, wasn't it. Hehe...
It was about 3:30 in the morning in downtown Las Vegas, but far from quiet. Various emergency vehicles were deployed in front of the construction site, and news reporters were interviewing witnesses. Rogue stared hollowly at the scene before her as the light from the EMT truck illuminated the lone tear making its way down her cheek. She was standing unnoticed on a nearby rooftop, struggling to keep her composure. For the past 45 minutes she had battled internally with the inner Remy taking over. In fact, until ten minutes ago, when she caught a glimpse of her reflection, she thought that she was Remy.
Suppressing his instinct to run was the hardest part of all. Remy was yelling at her, pleading with her, to get away from there. She had to argue with him to at least let her return to the scene. For what, she didn't know.
Denial is a very comfortable and euphoric state (1). It was the only thing keeping her sane. As long as she didn't see the body, Remy was alive. Right?
A sudden motion caught her eye. Her breath caught in her throat as the paramedics wheeled out a lone figure on a stretcher. It was too much for her. Rogue turned on her heel and ran to the rooftop door. Heart racing, she made her way to the car that Remy had "rented" and started to drive off.
six days later.
Rogue drove up to the magnificant gates of the Xavier mansion, completely exhausted. She had barely slept in the past week. Rogue reached over to the next seat for her gloves and put them on, hoping that they wouldn't explode. She furrowed her brow worriedly and checked her reflection in the mirror. Instead of bright green eyes, she was met with dull red on black ones. Dieu, Ah look lahke crap. She grimaced. Her accent had thickened and blended into a mix of Cajun and Mississippian dialects.
She took a deep breath and got out of the car. Undoubtably, Wolverine already smelled her coming. Just thinking about how they left things caused knots to form in her stomach. She paused at the front door. She could feel the sweat forming on her hands, and reached for the door. To her surprise, it was open.
As soon as she walked in, she could tell something was up. Following the voices, she walked into the rec. room, only to find Peter sitting down, looking beaten and worn. Apparently he had just gotten in an argument. She lingered at the door, unsure of what to say. She cleared her throat, and lamely offered, "De more things change, huh Pete." Colossus turned around, shocked.
"Rogue?!?"
(1) Prof. H.Hufnagel, thanks for the inspiration for the third paragraph. You and Remy's Rose inspire me to write, especially with the last reviews. I admit, I'm gonna be a little stuck, so I need some ideas now that Rogue's back home. This goes for any other readers, too. It's clinically proven: reviews are a cure for writers block.