It's strange how just a breath of air can make someone break down into a crying, screaming, pitiful mass of muscle, bone, flesh, and tears. The way it feels like you've just lost control of the world around you and how you feel like you'll never get your life back.
I must've sat in Scott's arms bawling my eyes out for at least two hours, just sitting there while he held me and I screamed denial into his ear. It just didn't seem like it could be true. How could he die? Why didn't his healing abilities save him?
Eventually, I didn't even have the energy to cry any more, so I just sat there until no more tears came and my voice silenced, even though I was still crying and screaming. Scott only sat there and rocked me, whispering comforting things, until I was forced to stop.
He didn't even say anything as he picked me up from the ground and carried me back down the hall, away from the Med Lab, and I didn't even have the energy to fight him. I only let my head lay on his shoulder as we went silently up the elevator, avoiding everyone possible in the hallway as he took me up the stairs and began heading towards my room.
But I grabbed his shirt collar and shook it, getting his attention. I shook my head slowly and he looked into my eyes, knowing what I wanted. Without a word, he altered his direction and turned to Logan's door, skillfully opening it without dropping me and carried me inside.
He laid me down on the bed, taking off my shoes carefully and tucking me beneath the covers of Logan's cold, empty bed without touching my skin. Then he stood there for a minute before leaning over and kissing me on the top of the head, his lips coming in contact with my hair and not my skin.
Then he headed for the door, pausing momentarily to look back at me. "…I'm sorry Rogue…" With that, he shut the door behind him, closing me into my sad cocoon. I couldn't scream anymore, I couldn't cry anymore, I couldn't even move anymore. So I just stared at the ceiling through water-glued eyelashes.
And didn't want to believe.
* * * * *
I never really woke up, because I never really fell asleep. I only drifted in the darkness of the room, my mind wandering over loose thoughts about him, about the time we spent together, about how he use to look at me, and touch me. Those memories were so sweet I never wanted to forget them.
I don't know the time at which I drifted, but when I tried to sit up from the bed, a sickness like no other washed over me. I felt the bile rising in my throat as I ripped the covers off of me, and slipped my feet over the side of the bed. Unfortunately, my body followed.
I almost lost it right there on the floor, but I wasn't going to ruin Logan's room. So I did the worse possible thing, I swallowed it back down. I figured that that was what true sickness tasted like, all the guilt and pain and lamentation that couldn't come up as words, had come up as vomit.
And suddenly my throat burned for something to wash it down.
Raising myself on shaky arms and legs, I carefully picked myself up off the floor. My knees felt like rubber, my head pounded, and my throat felt like it was on fire. I tried not to move my tongue around any more than I had to, not wanting to waken the disgusting taste once again from the back of my throat.
I quietly opened the door and was welcomed by a cold wisp of the hallway air. In a vain effort to keep myself warm, I pulled my arms up around my shoulders as I shuffled out of Logan's room.
The hallway was empty, which meant that no one would bother me.
"How's she doing?" Jean Grey's voice seeped from beneath the door and caught my ear, just as I was walking past their room. There was something in her voice, a sense of earnestness that made me stop and listen.
"Rogue?" Scott asked absently back. I perked at the sound of my name, pressing my ear against the thick, mahogany door to get a better listen. "She's not taking it too well." His voice was weighted with remorse.
"Poor child," Jean mentioned and suddenly she began to cry, not like a dam bursting, but a leaking cry that made her sniff constantly. There was a shuffle of noise which I pictured as Scott coming around the side of the bed and wrapping her in his arms, trying to comfort her.
"It's just so hard to accept it Scott! I mean, how in the hell could this have happened?" I heard Jean cuss for the first time in my entire life here at Xavier's School.
"I know baby," Scott tried to calm her, "I know."
"I don't think I can go through with it tomorrow…" Jean said pathetically.
"Then don't, Hank will be there, let him take care of it."
"But the Professor needs my help, and I'm not so sure that I like Hank completely enough to allow him to do it."
"Jean," Scott said directly, "It's your decision, you have to determine what to do." There were more sounds before Jean started crying again and then was muffled as Scott pulled her into his chest. "I know it's hard to decide, but you have to, tonight."
There was a long silence, occasionally broken by Scott's hushings when Jean's voice got too loud, until finally, she was able to speak again.
"I have to do it Scott," Jean said in a shaky voice. "For Logan's sake."
"Are you sure?" Scott asked one final time.
"I have to be. I have to know what killed him."
"An autopsy is the only way."
I backed away from the door, my hand in my mouth as I realized what they were talking about. Tomorrow they were going to cut him open, and to prove it to myself in a horrible truth, that he was truly dead.
I must've sat in Scott's arms bawling my eyes out for at least two hours, just sitting there while he held me and I screamed denial into his ear. It just didn't seem like it could be true. How could he die? Why didn't his healing abilities save him?
Eventually, I didn't even have the energy to cry any more, so I just sat there until no more tears came and my voice silenced, even though I was still crying and screaming. Scott only sat there and rocked me, whispering comforting things, until I was forced to stop.
He didn't even say anything as he picked me up from the ground and carried me back down the hall, away from the Med Lab, and I didn't even have the energy to fight him. I only let my head lay on his shoulder as we went silently up the elevator, avoiding everyone possible in the hallway as he took me up the stairs and began heading towards my room.
But I grabbed his shirt collar and shook it, getting his attention. I shook my head slowly and he looked into my eyes, knowing what I wanted. Without a word, he altered his direction and turned to Logan's door, skillfully opening it without dropping me and carried me inside.
He laid me down on the bed, taking off my shoes carefully and tucking me beneath the covers of Logan's cold, empty bed without touching my skin. Then he stood there for a minute before leaning over and kissing me on the top of the head, his lips coming in contact with my hair and not my skin.
Then he headed for the door, pausing momentarily to look back at me. "…I'm sorry Rogue…" With that, he shut the door behind him, closing me into my sad cocoon. I couldn't scream anymore, I couldn't cry anymore, I couldn't even move anymore. So I just stared at the ceiling through water-glued eyelashes.
And didn't want to believe.
* * * * *
I never really woke up, because I never really fell asleep. I only drifted in the darkness of the room, my mind wandering over loose thoughts about him, about the time we spent together, about how he use to look at me, and touch me. Those memories were so sweet I never wanted to forget them.
I don't know the time at which I drifted, but when I tried to sit up from the bed, a sickness like no other washed over me. I felt the bile rising in my throat as I ripped the covers off of me, and slipped my feet over the side of the bed. Unfortunately, my body followed.
I almost lost it right there on the floor, but I wasn't going to ruin Logan's room. So I did the worse possible thing, I swallowed it back down. I figured that that was what true sickness tasted like, all the guilt and pain and lamentation that couldn't come up as words, had come up as vomit.
And suddenly my throat burned for something to wash it down.
Raising myself on shaky arms and legs, I carefully picked myself up off the floor. My knees felt like rubber, my head pounded, and my throat felt like it was on fire. I tried not to move my tongue around any more than I had to, not wanting to waken the disgusting taste once again from the back of my throat.
I quietly opened the door and was welcomed by a cold wisp of the hallway air. In a vain effort to keep myself warm, I pulled my arms up around my shoulders as I shuffled out of Logan's room.
The hallway was empty, which meant that no one would bother me.
"How's she doing?" Jean Grey's voice seeped from beneath the door and caught my ear, just as I was walking past their room. There was something in her voice, a sense of earnestness that made me stop and listen.
"Rogue?" Scott asked absently back. I perked at the sound of my name, pressing my ear against the thick, mahogany door to get a better listen. "She's not taking it too well." His voice was weighted with remorse.
"Poor child," Jean mentioned and suddenly she began to cry, not like a dam bursting, but a leaking cry that made her sniff constantly. There was a shuffle of noise which I pictured as Scott coming around the side of the bed and wrapping her in his arms, trying to comfort her.
"It's just so hard to accept it Scott! I mean, how in the hell could this have happened?" I heard Jean cuss for the first time in my entire life here at Xavier's School.
"I know baby," Scott tried to calm her, "I know."
"I don't think I can go through with it tomorrow…" Jean said pathetically.
"Then don't, Hank will be there, let him take care of it."
"But the Professor needs my help, and I'm not so sure that I like Hank completely enough to allow him to do it."
"Jean," Scott said directly, "It's your decision, you have to determine what to do." There were more sounds before Jean started crying again and then was muffled as Scott pulled her into his chest. "I know it's hard to decide, but you have to, tonight."
There was a long silence, occasionally broken by Scott's hushings when Jean's voice got too loud, until finally, she was able to speak again.
"I have to do it Scott," Jean said in a shaky voice. "For Logan's sake."
"Are you sure?" Scott asked one final time.
"I have to be. I have to know what killed him."
"An autopsy is the only way."
I backed away from the door, my hand in my mouth as I realized what they were talking about. Tomorrow they were going to cut him open, and to prove it to myself in a horrible truth, that he was truly dead.
