Three violent knocks fill the tiny space and Rogue jumps from her curled position on the floor. She is partly awake and partly dreaming; the residue of Remy's psyche is still hanging on stubbornly to the walls of her conscious thought.
The negating instrument burrowed in her flesh may have taken away her powers, but the voices are still with her: whispering their ideas, fears, and wants. For once, their presence is a comfort instead of a hindrance; they are her only friends.
The door is thrown open and Rogue shields her eyes from the sudden, harsh light. There are two manly silhouettes in the doorway. She scoots to the very back of her cell, regarding them warily.
Feedback is encouraged.
