Slight Return
Part Thirty-Seven
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
Remy couldn't remember what he'd been doing; one moment he'd been...he wasn't sure...somewhere else? Now here he was, on a wooden bench in Bayville park. It felt familiar, he had to think why. And then it hit him...it was the same bench he'd met Rose on. The same one.
And as he turned to see who had spoken, there was a young woman there, beautiful, raven hair in exquisite curls. She reminded him a little of old movie stars, that kind of refined elegant feminine beauty that modern celebrities tried to mimic but never were able to pull off. The dress she was wearing was old fashioned, but looked brand new, bright and colourful, the cardigan draped over her shoulders was the softest colour of pink he'd ever seen, almost white.
He tried to think of why she looked familiar, he supposed it was because she looked a little like a dark haired Grace Kelly, but softer somehow.
Remy pondered on what she had asked him. "No..." he answered. No, he didn't believe in ghosts.
"Perhaps just as well," said the young beauty, she smiled, it was dazzling, captivating, her pale eyes twinkled like crystals, seemed to reflect the colour of the brilliant blue sky.
Giving a shrug he looked down to his hands, he was holding a magazine that he couldn't even remember purchasing. It looked like one of those lame Cosmopolitan type magazines, full of fashion and glitz but very little substance. The pages were open at a particular article, the title read 'is your life a mess' in massive black letters, the article text itself was too small and condensed to make out properly without close inspection.
"So why are you sitting here alone on a day like this?" asked the young woman, she leaned back casually upon the bench, crossed one long well formed leg across the other, dangling her foot playfully, her peeptoe dotted blue shoe dangling off her toe.
Remy thought about this for a moment, why was he here? What had he been doing again? He couldn't remember. Everything was foggy. Why were they the only ones in the park on a day like this? Even the newstand across the small pond was surprisingly shut up. There was no sound, no birds, no...nothing. It struck him how he'd been to this park before but had never taken note of just how many rose bushes there were here. Crawling up wall and trellis alike, peeking out from behind shrubs, large blooms of pink and vivid red, pale peaches and sunny yellows.
Why did his head feel so foggy? Why did he feel so light?
"I..." he struggled to focus, "I needed some time alone."
"Just who are you running from?" she asked.
The way she spoke, so direct, it reminded him of something, the voice was so familiar, the way her eyes met his was so familiar too.
"Who knows," he said, looking down at the magazine. He couldn't remember if he was running from someone or not. He couldn't even remember if he was resting from that run.
The woman reached out and took the magazine from his hands, "is your life a mess," she read the title out, her eyes swayed to him, "is it, Remy?"
Remy tilted his head curiously to look at her, "how you know my name?"
"I know everything, my darling," she rolled up the magazine casually and tapped him on the shoulder with it, "things I probably wasn't meant to know."
"How you mean?"
"I know the sacrifies you've made," the woman tossed the magazine into the nearby trashcan, "I just wanted you to know that it wasn't unappreciated. It made a difference."
Remy squinted, staring at her beautiful face, this...angellic face. Who was she? Why did it feel like he knew her? Why was it he felt a strange connection, like meeting a friend he'd forgotten the name and face of long ago?
"Did...we date?" he asked with a vague laugh.
"Oh no, I hardly think so," the woman laughed, sweet high tinkling laughter, the kind he'd hear at wine and cheese parties while he was upstairs robbing the safe blind. "I'm a little too old for you. Besides, it'd be highly inappropriate...like romancing my grandson."
And then it dawned exactly on him who the young woman of about thirty years old was, why those eyes were so recognisable, why her voice was so familiar. He gasped, although the air was warm around him it seemed he breathed in cold air, that odd feeling of consuming mints and then breathing in for it to feel cool and sweet. "Rose..." he breathed.
"I'm sorry, Remy," said the woman – said Rose – as she uncrossed her legs and sat forward a little, laying her hands on her knees.
"Sorry?" he asked, his eyes blurring, he felt like crying although he wasn't sure if he had the capacity to. "Why you sorry—you..." he thought, confused for a moment, "why am I seein' this...you're...you're not here...you ain't supposed to be here...I...just heard about you last night..."
"I know, my darling, I know..." she placed a hand upon his bare arm, her touch was strangely warm, he could feel it radiating through his flesh, it seemed to tingle and burn in an oddly pleasant way like the first tingle of Deep Heat on sore muscles.
"Rose..."
"Listen to me, Remy..."
"How you know who I am?" he asked. Again, he couldn't fathom it...how had she figured out he wasn't Dillon? He put his hand to his face and realised he didn't have sunglasses on, he felt almost anxious now.
"I know everything, now listen," she soothed, squeezing his arm, "it's not too late to be happy...I want you to be happy."
Remy dropped his eyes to the ground, he felt giddy, "I don't know how to be..." he managed. "Rose...it's like...one big humiliation after the other...and...and all the joy is bein' sucked out of life..."
"That's because you're letting it be," said Rose. "But its not too late to change things..."
"How...?" he blinked tears. "How am I meant to be happy?"
"You know how you're meant to be happy, Remy. You just don't want to admit it."
Remy looked at her through teary eyes, trying to make sense of her words.
"She will soothe you more than anyone ever will. She is the only person in your life that makes sense and you know that, with her, you'll find the kind of solace you find in no other person. But you have to give it a chance, and you have to be patient. You have to be willing, and open. And you have to stop hiding."
Remy tilted his head, gazing at his pretend grandmother and feeling so much grief that his chest hurt with it.
"Do you understand?" Rose asked gently.
Remy dropped his eyes to the hand of the arm she was holding, he felt something hard within his palm and he opened it. Rose's rings were there, sparkling in the sunlight, they looked brand new, bright and clean, the diamonds dazzled him, the emerald looked like clear green glass.
Rose tenderly brushed away one of his tears, "don't grieve for me, I'm where I'm supposed to be now, with my family...with Dillon..."
Remy closed his eyes and shook his head, "don't go..."
"I have to," Rose sighed, "I have to go where I'm supposed to be...and you have to do the same."
He felt her brush a kiss against his forehead, it was warm, leaving tingles dancing across his skin hot and electric and strangely comforting. And then, just like that she was gone, and he was awake, staring at the ceiling of Rowan's bedroom as the late afternoon sun filtered through the closed drapes.
The feeling of Rose's departure left him empty and heartbroken. The dream left him confused and devastated. In his hand, he felt the two rings he'd fallen asleep holding, they were hot in his palm. He opened it and looked at them, remembering how differently they had looked in his dream. He was sure he'd hidden them before he'd fallen asleep and yet...there they were in his hand.
Must have gotten them back out when I was half asleep or something, he thought tiredly. Deciding he better hide the rings before Rowan happened upon them, he slipped them into half empty Tylenol bottle that was in the drawer at the side of his bed. It was the only place he could think of right now other than keep them on his person and he didn't want to do that, he was afraid of losing them.
Moving naked across the bedroom he pushed the door open quietly and peered out into the living room. Everything was silent, Rowan wasn't home. He found a note on the kitchen counter, she'd apparently gone out to get groceries. His clothes were still drying down in the laundry room.
He'd wanted to get out of here right now, he didn't like being cooped up feeling like this, but unfortunately he didn't have much choice. This was it, this was how things were going to be for now. He had nowhere else to be but his new home, and no one else to talk to but the woman he'd decided to give everything up for.
This was all that was left.
Rogue and Wanda Maximoff didn't get home to Bayville until well after seven. Wanda slept through most of the day, and the brief spells she didn't sleep were spent vomiting while Rogue listened unhappilly through the paper thin walls. It had only left Rogue so very glad she hadn't drank much more the night before, she wasn't sure she'd have wanted the hangover.
As it stood, she felt fine. At least physically. Emotionally, she was drained.
As Wanda pulled her car up the drive, Rogue stared through the windscreen at the mansion, thinking how oddly different it seemed in the twenty-four or so hours she'd been gone.
She wasn't sure if it was her outlook had changed, or the lighting or the how weather was that had made it seem strangely bigger, more homely than it ever had. But regardless, it seemed different, and she felt glad to be home.
The drive had been strangely awkward and quiet, Rogue hadn't been able to help feel that way the entire time. Wanda had been silent for most of the journey, strangely preoccupied, mostly concentrating on the road, not even bother to hum to the music on the radio. The discussion they'd had when they'd gotten back to the hotel following the concert still was fresh with Rogue, every word, every beat. She couldn't get it out of her mind. She wasn't sure how to really proceed with things now. She'd promised Wanda nothing had to change, but part of her wondered if that was even possible. A friendship this new hadn't been built on a sturdy enough foundation to withstand these kinds of events. There were bound to be a few cracks by now and it was only a matter of time before things fell apart.
Ah don't want it to, Rogue despaired. It had been so long since she'd connected with anyone since Remy. She had friends, yes, but none of them understood things the way that Wanda did.
Logan was where he always was after dinner: standing outside the garage with his cigar, smoking, the one vice he ever let himself have. He flicked ash into his paint-can ashtray and gave a grunt as Wanda parked in the one empty space that was left. Rogue climbed out of the convertible wearily and moved to get her bag from the trunk.
"You both look like hell," said Logan, he bit at one of his fingernails, apparently a hangnail was bothering him. He briefly eyed up Wanda, "you especially. I can smell it on you from here."
Rogue noted that Wanda didn't even seem remotely offended by the accusation, she simply went to the back to get her things from the trunk, saying nothing.
"You think I can't smell the pot?" asked Logan disapprovingly.
Rogue supposed it was inevitable although she'd tried to take precautions to avoid him noticing. She'd showered several times, she'd had the hotel clean her clothes twice just to be sure. She'd practically bathed in Wanda's expensive perfume, she'd brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash half a dozen times.
It had all been for naught; Logan's powers were hard to trick. It had been stupid to even hope she would be able to avoid him finding out.
Wanda gave Logan a look, and shrugged, "I smoked it. She didn't."
Rogue gazed at Wanda, amazed at how the girl could just take the rap for her like that. She was sure Logan wasn't going to be fooled.
"Open the bag," Logan instructed, moving over after stubbing his cigar out in his hand then pocketing it.
Wanda scoffed, "you're seriously going to check my bag?"
"I'm seriously going to check your bag. Both of them," Logan grabbed for Rogue's bag and put it down on the hood of his jeep and began digging through it, nostrils flaring as he smelled around trying to find if anything was hidden in there.
For a moment Logan stopped, examining the rolled up corset she'd shoved to the bottom of the bag. He unrolled it and examined it, his expression dark and dangerous. He turned and looked at Rogue with an almost accusing expression, and Rogue felt her cheeks grow hot as she looked away in absolute dismay.It was bad enough she'd seen him touching the bra she'd worn yesterday afternoon and the panties (although both had been cleaned by the hotel staff), he'd had to find that damn corset. That obscene thing that was far more daring than anything she had ever worn. She felt her stomach churn to imagine what he must have thought of her at that moment.
"It's like having a drug dog," Wanda rolled her eyes, she stood with her arms folded, waiting for Logan to be done. "Only hairier," she commented darkly.
"You know the rules," said Logan, stuffing the corset back into the bag unceremoniously, his cheeks getting redder and more furious, "no drugs, no alcohol, you've had both," he looked between the pair of them discriminatingly.
Wanda frowned, "Yes, we know the rules, no drugs on the premises, no alcohol," she pointed out, "but we weren't on the premises."
"You're both minors," Logan grunted.
"Like you ever stuck to the law when you were a kid," Wanda snapped, "and when was that anyway?"
Logan eyed her critically, "you want to cut that attitude out before I cut it out for you?" he warned.
"Can I go now? I've been on the road for almost four hours, I need to take a wicked piss," Wanda pursed her lips stubbornly.
Rogue hadn't seen Wanda have an attitude like this for some time; she could only assume that either Wanda was starting to revert to her old ways or this was simply due to a lingering hangover. She told herself not to question it right now, and stayed silent.
Logan checked through Wanda's bag and tossed it towards her, "don't think I won't be telling Professor Xavier."
Wanda didn't seem all that intimidated by the threat, she took off in a slow lazy walk out of the garage and into door leading to the kitchen, she disappeared leaving Rogue to Logan's wrath.
When she'd finally gone Logan turned to Rogue, his expression dark and disapproving. "Thought you'd know better..." he grunted.
Rogue sighed, but could say nothing.
"S&M clothes?" Logan muttered, "drinking and drugs..." he shook his head furiously. "Never had any of this with you until she came through that door."
Rogue didn't want angry tears of humiliation to burn her eyes, but they did. Somehow, she managed to take control of herself, and force them back, "can you just cut me some slack. It's not like Ah ran out and did heroin."
"Drugs are drugs," Logan muttered.
Rogue almost laughed right then, "yeah? And what's that in your pocket? Tobacco ain't it? Last Ah checked that was considered a drug too."
"It's a cigar."
"It's a stimulant," Rogue reminded, "just because you have a healin' factor doesn't mean you're excempt from the rule either," she grabbed her bag from the top of his jeep where he'd left it following his search.
"Judging by your attitude, I'm gonna go on the assumption you didn't have a good time in Heartkey," Logan remarked.
"Ah had a splendid time," Rogue snorted, she supposed she had right up until the moment Wanda had professed her attraction and Remy had showed up ready to try and save her from nothing.
"I'm telling you, Rogue, I don't like the way you're actin' lately. You didn't do all this hard work with therapy just to go and mess it up by letting Wanda encourage you to start doin' idiotic things," Logan folded his arms.
Rogue stared at him. "Are you sayin' she's a bad influence?"
"You know fine well I'm not directly allowed to say that," Logan muttered, "but if I was-"
"If you were?" Rogue dared stubbornly.
"If I was...I'd say think real sharp about your decisions, Rogue. Before Wanda got here, you were progressin'-"
"Will you lay off?" Rogue demanded, "you're not my father!"
Logan stepped back a little, seeming quite offended and for a brief second almost hurt. He recomposed himself quickly, he sniffed indignantly, his nostrils flared.
"Ah make my own decisions. No one influenced me to do anythin'..."
"Whatever. Look, Professor asked me to pass on a message. You've to call - or skype or whatever it's called - your therapist, apparently you missed the last session."
She winced, she had missed it. It hadn't been intentional of course, it had been completely overlooked, forgotten about by so many things happening in her life. Right now, she didn't want to speak to her therapist. She simply wanted to go to bed and sleep this off. She wasn't hungover, she was just drained and sleepy.
"Ah'll call him tomorrow," said Rogue flatly.
"No, you'll do it now."
"Look at what time it is," Rogue pointed out, it's probably gonna be Midnight in the UK by now," Rogue tried as she rolled her eyes, "Ah'll call him tomorrow."
"Don't pull that crap with me, you know full well he's in Boston right now. That excuse isn't going to work. He's expecting your call so go do it."
Rogue glared at Logan, "stop tellin' me how to live my life! Ah wish you'd all just stop tellin' me what to do and how to do it and let me figure it out on my own!"
"You want us to stop, then start figurin' it out, and start makin' smart choices," Logan snapped, "and stop yellin' at me. You know I'm only doin' my job."
Suddenly feeling slightly guilty, she dropped her eyes and could now find no response. When he used that tone it always made her feel childlike and lost.
"Call him. Now. It's not a request."
Rogue slowly and reluctantly made her way to the library without any further argument. Still shouldering her bag of clothes she made sure to keep her pace slow and deliberate, hoping perhaps that if she took just five more minutes to get to the library then perhaps her therapist would miss the call because it had gotten too late.
At the large touch screen computer to the back of the room Rogue took a seat and she logged into the Skype account that the Professor had had set up for her. Only three contacts were on it, her main therapist, Dr. Harvey Foster, who she was meant to be speaking to at least twice to three times a week to discuss her troubles, Dr. Ian MacTavish, the psychiatrist who'd helped her through her anxiety issues by prescribing and adjusting her medications while on Muir Island, and Mary Lamb, her dietician, who she hadn't contacted in almost two weeks, feeling she didn't need to any more.
With a grunt of disapproval to the whole idea, she sent a call out to Dr. Foster and waited. It was some time before she got an answer – the whole time she'd sat hoping that simply her call would be missed and had almost clicked end call when the answer eventually came. The video image showed Dr. Foster, the wiry man in his fifties with his too-modern glasses and his too-modern hair for a man his age. Even his t-shirt was too modern for a man in his fifties – the kind of brand she normally seen her fellow students at the institute wearing.
"Rogue," he said, sounding almost delighted, he shifted his seat, "it's been a week without a session...what has kept you?"
Rogue sniffed a little, "it's been chaos here, a lot going on. Ah didn't mean to forget...Ah didn't even remember until now."
"Yes, I talked with Professor Xavier when you didn't call during the usual session time, he assured me you seemed to be doing well."
Rogue wondered what that meant. So much emphasis on seemed. Seeming was not to be believed? Could all be an act? She thought to ask but somehow couldn't get the words out. Instead, she decided to play along, hoping that perhaps it might help prove to Dr. Foster that she was doing fine enough that soon she wouldn't even need his help any more.
"Yeah, things are fine," she said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, a brief look crossed his face, even with slight pixellation she caught that look and instantly regretted not being careful about her answer.
"I called yesterday hoping to reschedule, but you were away I believe."
"Yeah, I went out to a concert with a friend."
"Really?" asked Dr. Foster, looking almost impressed, "for you that's such a large step."
"Yeah," Rogue supposed, sighing.
"A lot of people in the audience?"
"Yeah."
"Were there any anxiety issues?"
"No," Rogue admitted, "Ah mean, at first, just a little but...we were front row, so...Ah had a lot of room, you know? Ah didn't feel so...trapped...or...like Ah was gonna hurt someone."
"Such a large step really shows how far you've since you left Muir Island."
Rogue hated the way he always talked about everything being steps, like life was on giant staircase she was supposed to climb. It seemed to her no matter how small these steps were, Dr. Foster always made them out to be some kind of steep climb (Only to her, it almost seemed the staircase didn't go anywhere anyway). It was so condescending, it made her feel like a five year old showing a bad finger painting to a teacher and the teacher acting as if the painting were by a renaissance master. It always made her shudder inside just a little.
"Did you have a nice time?"
"It was fine," Rogue shrugged at him. She hated how perceptive he was because even in his slightly fuzzy image on the screen she caught how he picked up the fact that it hadn't exactly been fine.
"Tell me...are you still taking the medication?"
"Yes," Rogue said, she stared down to the table. She hadn't taken it today, she hadn't been home to. She supposed right after here she would have to go to see Hank. She'd been feeling slightly anxious in the car but had had a hard time determining if it was general anxiety or simply anxiety because Wanda still probably had alcohol in her system.
"Lexapro and...Xanax?"
Rogue caught him look down for a moment, yes, he was reading it off notes. Something annoyed her about that, as if her whole life was simply a pile of notes to be checked during every discussion.
"Yes," she responded, trying not to feel irritable about it.
"Have there been any changes?"
"No, Ah'm fine."
"Are you taking it when you're scheduled to take it?"
"Sometimes," Rogue looked away almost guiltily, "Ah take the small dose of Xanax in the mornin' when Ah get up...which can be any time. The Lexipro Ah get at night because it makes me really sleepy."
"Yes, it has that effect on some patients," Dr. Foster nodded, "are you sleeping all right at night? Uninterrupted sleep?"
"Sometimes," Rogue admitted, "but right now it's so hot here Ah sometimes wake up feelin' too hot...soaked in sweat. Then Ah have trouble getting back to sleep."
"Are you still on the same dosage?"
"Yeah," Rogue sighed.
"Perhaps you should speak to Dr. MacTavish about whether your dosage needs to be altered."
"You think it needs to be?"
"I didn't say that," said Dr. Foster, "sleeping problems can be caused by an intolerance for higher doses of that prescription. But you'd need to discuss it with either Dr. MacTavish or Dr. McCoy since they're the one who deal with what you're prescribed."
"Fine, Ah'll ask about it...later," Rogue shrugged it off. She wasn't convinced it was the prescription that was causing the sleeping problems. The sleeping problems had only really arisen since her return to Bayville, that to her meant it was something here (other than the heat) that was the underlying cause.
"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"
Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Not really."
"Are you certain? You seem to have something on your mind."
"It's complicated, Ah guess," Rogue shrugged.
"I'm here for the hour, Rogue."
"Ah don't think an hour would do," she cracked weakly.
"It would help to talk about it. You know that. That's the reason we have these sessions, Rogue, for you to talk about these things."
"Ah know," she said irritably.
"Then please, talk to me. I'm here to help."
"Remember how...when Ah told you Wanda had come to live here how Ah started...havin' the attacks and stuff...and it was really stressin' me out?"
"Yes, of course," he nodded, listening closely.
Rogue remembered relaying the story to him, and she remembered his reaction, at the suggestion the Professor had made that perhaps to get past the tension that she should make an effort to get to know the girl, how it would make things easier, make it hurt less. He hadn't exactly disagreed. She had been dismayed that even he couldn't give her useful advice after Wanda had once tried to kill her. It was all he ever did was not give useful advice. That was how therapy seemed to work...pay for no advice whatsoever...just to come to your own conclusions...it had always seemed like a waste of money in her opinion, but it was a condition she'd agreed to nonetheless.
"Remember how Ah told you the Professor said Ah should try to just...see through our differences and try to be congenial?"
"Yes."
"Well...Ah...gave it a chance, kind of. Ah don't know, Ah guess it just sort of happened...we started talkin'...next thing Ah know we're talkin' more and...now we're friends."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"When did this happen?"
"Ah don't know, a few weeks ago? Everythin' kind of runs together sometimes when you haven't got much goin' on in your life, it's hard keepin' track..." Rogue admitted.
"I'm surprised you didn't mention this in the last session, Rogue. I asked you several times if anything significant had happened in your life and yet you didn't mention this."
"Ah wasn't sure Ah should," Rogue admitted. "Ah didn't think it really was all that significant."
"You've taken a huge step to move forwards and overcome your past resentments, Rogue. Why would you see that as anything other than significant?"
"We hadn't really hung out much at that point, Ah wasn't sure there was anything to mention – it kinda felt like if Ah brought it up it'd be jumpin' the gun or somethin'."
"You reconciled with a girl who you say tried to kill you and you didn't think it was worth mentioning or noting? Rogue..."
"Ah just...didn't want to talk about it, okay?" Rogue sighed. "Ah didn't want to talk about it until Ah knew for certain what Ah thought about it."
"And have you decided what you think about it?"
"Not completely."
"But you want to talk about it now?"
"Yes," Rogue decided. Yes, she did want to talk about it, because she couldn't with anyone else. The others picked sides, Dr. Foster could only remain neutral.
"What's changed since you decided you didn't want to talk about it?"
"Well...last night she drops this bombshell on me that she thinks she wants to date me..." Rogue groaned, "it was so awkward..."
"You don't feel that way about her, clearly."
"How could Ah? Ah'm not gay."
"So...what happened? What did you say?"
"What could Ah say? Ah had to let her down...make up stuff, tell her that Ah still loved Remy."
"And do you?"
Rogue winced, she hated speaking about Remy to anyone, but especially hated speaking to Dr. Foster about him. She didn't expect him to understand, it didn't matter how much training he had, these weren't the usual circumstances that someone like him would be used to dealing with. "That's not even important right now."
"How did you feel when she told you?"
"Shocked, Ah guess. Ah always figured Wanda was a man-eater through and through...Ah mean, there was this one time she made this move on me, but Ah figured it was just...you know...'cause she's fucked."
"I see."
"Ah mean, isn't it possible that all this is just her way of takin' a safe option because she got used by a bunch of people and rejected by a whole lot of others? Is it possible that she's focused on me because Ah'm the first person who didn't cast her aside?"
Dr. Foster looked thoughtful for a moment, "it's hard to say, Rogue. Wanda isn't my patient, you are," he explained. "I can hear a story about someone and think I have a vague concept of what the person is thinking or perhaps feeling, but it wouldn't be fair for me to make that assumption, and especially not with someone else."
Rogue groaned.
"What do you think about what Wanda told you?"
"Ah think...it's just...you know...confusion. It can't be anythin' else."
"Why are you so reluctant to believe that Wanda's feelings could be genuine?"
She paused, "Ah...never said Ah thought her feelin's weren't genuine," she pointed out, caught off guard by the question.
"You didn't need to, you worked your way around it by suggesting that she was settling for you because you're the one person who hasn't betrayed her or used her in some fashion. By saying this to me, what you're really saying to me is that you believe she couldn't care for you because you feel you're not a special person, that she couldn't be interested in you because you're not an interesting person, and that she couldn't be attracted to you because you're not an attractive person."
Rogue frowned, "that's not what Ah meant."
"Did you question it when Remy cared for you?"
"Of course Ah did," Rogue snorted.
"Not as much, it seems," Dr. Foster noted.
"Me and Remy are more alike than me and Wanda, it makes a little more sense to me...but Wanda likin' me just...doesn't."
"Why do you think Wanda couldn't care for you?"
"Because she's fruit loops," Rogue shrugged, "because she's never cared for anyone like that," she paused.
"She had a relationship with Remy though, didn't she?"
Rogue winced. Here it came, the part where Remy became the focus of the entire session again.
"Tell me about her relationship with Remy."
Rogue hated this part of their conversations, hated having to bear her soul over and over and over again. "Ah've already told you, she had this thing with him."
"You glossed over it, you mentioned possessiveness, that she had tried to kill you...you didn't speak much about her relationship with Remy. Whenever I've asked you've avoided answering."
Rogue owered her eyes to the keyboard, "Ah guess her relationship with Remy was just...Ah don't know, sex. Just sex. That's all she focuses on with most guys from what Ah've heard...she's practically a nympho..."
"She didn't care for Remy?"
"When Ah had Remy's memories for a while, one memory kept replayin' itself over and over in my head that Wanda said she had kinda fallen for him, that she only ever felt happy when he was with her. But Ah think lookin' back that maybe it was just like she said she liked me...that...it's just because she didn't feel used or...that it felt stable or something. Ah don't know...you're the shrink, you figure it out."
"I'm not here to figure it out, Rogue. I'm here to listen, and to help you understand why you feel the things you feel."
Rogue looked away from the screen, feeling slightly miffed that she wasn't sure he was doing a very good job at it right now.
"You've been back home for a while now, tell me, how are things going with Remy?"
"Remy is livin' at his girlfriend's house now...he wanted a more stable life Ah guess," Rogue admitted. She wanted to completely avoid mentioning the event that had been a huge part in his leaving, that it had been all her lies about it that had finally been the last straw.
"How did that make you feel?" Dr. Foster asked curiously.
"Ah don't know," Rogue looked away, "like...he's throwin' his life away...like he's tryin' to live someone else's lif-"
"No," interrupted Dr. Foster quickly, "I asked you how you feel, not what you think he's trying to accomplish."
"How do you expect me to feel?" Rogue threw a look.
"Angry...hurt?"
"Ah feel..." Rogue sighed, "Like Ah fucked up. Guilty, Ah guess."
He pushed his glasses up his nose and sniffed, "why?"
"Because everythin' here is my fault. Everythin' came from the choices Ah made. If Ah hadn't wanted my powers fixed, Remy wouldn't have gotten hurt, wouldn't have lost his identity. If Ah hadn't blabbed about everything on Friday he wouldn't have gone to run off and live with this big boobed freckly legged bimbo."
Rogue regretted how bitter and hateful she sounded. She'd thought she was past this, she'd thought on Saturday night that she'd moved on and shrugged everything off but now she had to wonder if perhaps it had been the alcohol and the medication interacting that had given her the bravery to say the things she wished she could feel.
"When you say you 'blabbed'...what do you mean exactly? You already told me you had told him about how he had lost his memory...was there something else?"
"Look...Ah...it's kind of-"
"Rogue, you're omitting things...you should be honest, we can talk about anything..."
"It's embarrassing..." Rogue groaned, "it makes me...real uncomfortable to talk about it."
"I'm here to help."
Rogue stared to the keyboard, thinking about the words she wanted to use, "this...thing happened with Wanda and Remy...something that he didn't remember happened. But Ah guess he sensed somethin' was off about her..."
"Rogue..." warned Dr. Foster with a sigh.
"This thing happened...and Ah have two different accounts of what actually happened..."
"Which are?"
"Remy's account is that Wanda came into his room while he was asleep, and...uhm..."
"She...?"
"Had...sex with him against his will. He woke up like that...he asked her to stop, she didn't."
"Oh my."
"Ah not only heard it from Remy, but Ah saw glimpses of it that way...but...then Ah have Wanda tellin' me it wasn't that way at all, that this was normal, that he had been interactin' with her...she didn't realise he hadn't woken up and that she didn't know he wanted her to stop...because they played rough a lot..."
"And Remy didn't remember this after you absorbed his memories?"
"No...but Ah think he sensed somethin' like it might have happened...somethin' was off, he hated her...just...inexplicably, without knowin' about it."
"And you told him the truth..."
"Ah dropped the ball, Ah said somethin' Ah shouldn't, it came out...he was furious...he left...because of that. Because he couldn't deal with it all any more, he couldn't be in a house with her after that, and not in a house with me because Ah befriended her knowin' what she did."
"Who do you believe?" asked Dr. Foster.
"Ah don't know who to believe any more...Wanda seems so genuine, but Ah seen things from Remy's side and Ah know it happened...that he freaked out. Wanda was in one of her insane phases back then, which she claims didn't help the situation..."
"Let me ask you a question," said Dr. Foster after a moment, "when you told him the truth on Friday, when you'd finally told him everything you feel he had to know, how did you feel?"
"Stupid," Rogue replied, "devastated...the look on his face, he was so hurt and mad...Ah hated makin' him feel that way."
"Did you feel nothing else?"
What did he expect her to feel? Happy?
"No sense of relief?"
Rogue thought about it for a moment. How was she supposed to feel relieved?
"You unloaded some heavy things, you got off your chest the things you've been hiding...you went to the concert the next day, did you not?"
Rogue sighed, "yes."
"And you had a good time?"
"Yes, Ah had a really good time," Rogue admitted quietly, she looked away, considering this. "Ah...haven't had fun like that in a long time, hadn't felt like everythin' was just this gapin' black hole that I had to go back to."
"How does that make you feel?"
Rogue sighed, "Ah don't know...Ah don't know how to feel about anythin'. Ah still felt guilty about it. Sometimes Ah feel like...there's hope. Sometimes Ah feel like there could be a future for me somewhere, Ah...just don't know where. Ah just...can't push out the guilt...every day knowin' it was my fault, everythin' Ah did led to it..."
"When was your last panic attack?"
Rogue couldn't remember, had it been a week? There'd been tears on Friday, certainly, not what she'd have called anxiety. It was hard to truly remember, it seemed so oddly far away since she'd had a real episode. It would have made sense if she'd had an attack on Saturday night after all the things that had happened, but she'd been strangely and eerily calm. "Ah...don't know, maybe a week, maybe over...it's...so hard to say. Ah think...maybe two weeks ago...around the time me and Wanda started hangin' out maybe...Ah have mini freak outs but...nothin' like Ah used to."
"And how does that make you feel?"
Rogue hated that question. She was so tired of it, always being asked how she felt, always trying to figure out what to feel or what she was supposed to feel. Right now, she had to consider things carefully. It hadn't occurred to her about the anxiety attack issue. She doubted it had gone away of course, there was always the lingering chance it would return should something occur, should her medication be tapered or should she feel particularly overwhelmed. But right now, to know that it had been weeks and she had held herself together somehow without falling back into her old ways? It seemed almost unreal.
Finally, she straightened up in her chair, "surprised."
"Surprised?"
"That Ah could go that long without somethin' bad happenin'."
"By something bad do you mean suicidal thoughts?"
"Maybe. Or just...you know...a huge freak out where people get hurt...where things get broken...that kind of stuff."
"And what else do you feel?"
"Ah don't know," she shrugged, "glad...maybe," she stared into space, thinking about her life, about everything, about the way things had gone and the way things were going.
"What are you thinking?" the Doctor asked knowingly.
Rogue drew her breath, "Ah'm...thinkin' Ah really need more time to think," she decided. "Can we call this session a day? Ah'm kind of tired, it's been a long weekend..."
"Of course, but I'd like you to call me at the usual time, and this time we should take the full hour."
"Yeah, whatever. Later, doc," Rogue sighed and she ended the call abruptly, she sat back in the chair and stared up to the ceiling. He'd given her a lot to think about, right now it wasn't fair to expect immediate answers on any of it. She needed to consider things carefully, her head was a muddle with the weekend drama and the things she was feeling. The last thing she needed was to be rushed. Besides, she was exhausted, all she wanted to do right now was sleep.
End of Part Thirty-Seven
Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge thanks to Ekster for giving me advice and helping me out with the therapy session portion of this chapter. I know there'll be some who'll nitpick and say it still wasn't accurate. None of us can exactly know how a discussion like this would go between Rogue and a therapist under the circumstances, lol. I'm not a therapist clearly (I can't even figure my own head out let alone anyone else's), so I've done my best. All I can do is guess to what the discussions would be like (which is why this is the only time it's ever been put in the story). Ekster has been a huge help to helping me figure out what the conversation might go like and she deserves huge praise here (especially for putting up with me AFTER the chapter was written, haha!). Couldn't have done it without her (had such huge block trying to write it before).
Thanks to all for the reviews, I'm glad to see so many are still enjoying the story (and the angst, lol). Yes, it is hard to believe there's so few chapters left. Is there a happy ending? Can't really say at this point, it'd give too much away. In the meantime, hope you all had a good weekend and will have a good week, and hopefully will be putting the next update up in a few days. Love you all :)