* Disclaimer in part One*
The songs in question belong to Marilyn Manson, Hole, and Elton John.
Previous Parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com
Or Fanfiction.net under PearlyJammer
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Rogue reported to work two days later and was surprised to see only one body to be worked on. As a rule of thumb, there were always at least two or three stiffs as Logan so callously referred to them. She shook her head, clearing all the Loganisms from her head was sure to be a challenge as the man had shared space in her head.
She strolled to the radio and flipped it on, hoping to find something work appropriate.
"We sing the dead song kids, cause we've got no future.
And we wanna be just like you." Somehow, Marilyn Manson didn't seem terribly appropriate for dressing a body.
"Hey yeah they really want you, they really want you they do." Courtney Love's grating voice could only be tolerated in certain circumstances; this wasn't one so Rogue turned the dial again.
"And you can tell everybody this is your song, now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I wrote down in words
How wonderful life is, when you're in the word."
Rogue smiled, she'd always been fond of Elton John, and this song in particular. Satisfied with a station, she finally walked back to her task. She hummed to herself as she set the cosmetic tray. She peered at the chart lying next too the body, and out of morbid curiosity her eyes strolled to the cause of death-overdose. "What a waste" she said softly to herself. The young man couldn't have been older than 25. She wondered idly if he'd been a first time user. He didn't appear to have any of the long-term symptoms of drug abuse that she herself had witnessed.
She consulted the chart again to check for the make-up request. Rogue's brow furrowed as she saw the box reading 'none' was checked, but a woman named Angie had signed the request, or lack of. Something didn't click. In general, the only time a corpse wasn't made up was if there was too much head trauma, which required a close casket funeral anyway, or the few times the body was simply being held before heading off to be cremated.
Rogue turned, still pondering the mystery of the man on the table, and why no make up had been requested. He was awfully pale, even for a dead guy. A little blush and some light foundation could do him some good. At least he'd look alive again. She shrugged it off and retreated to the desk in the corner. She needed to log in at least a couple hours of work, and there was always plenty that needed doing. Rogue pulled out a writing tablet and was fishing for a pencil, when a blurb in the newspaper article caught her attention.
Mutant Registration A Go-Go
AP) Tension builds in New York as the emergency UN summit prepares for its convention that will focus exclusively on mutant registration, and mutant rights. US Ambassador Lori Jensen stated "The function of this summit is to rid us all of the mutant problem. Certain countries have let this go on for far too long. We need to take an international stand on this issue and fight for the rights of humanity."
Should the proposed resolution be adopted in the UN, it seems certain that the bill proposed by Senator Angleman of Georgia will slide through legislation without a hitch. This could very well be the end, as they know it.
A cold pit settled in her stomach. The end as they know it, that phrase scared the shit out of her. Mutants were already treated as a sub-class in many countries. How much worse would life become if it suddenly became 'legal' to continue that sort of behavior. It was something she didn't want to contemplate. As an afterthought, Rogue dug through the desk to find an envelope and a stamp.
She was sure that Xavier monitored every aspect of mutant activity, but it never hurt to send him occasional clippings anyway. Finding her stamp and envelope, Rogue sealed the clipping into its white container and addressed the envelope in a practiced block style. Charles would know whom the letter was from, but nobody else at the mansion, should they care to take a look would recognize the handwriting. She would also have the letter postmarked from another city. It was a little paranoid, but she really didn't want someone from her old life knocking down her door, and exposing her.
Rogue wasn't ashamed of being a mutant; it was just that she enjoyed the freedoms her new life allowed her. This was the closest she'd come to convincing herself that she was happy. Life at Xavier's had been good in many, many ways. She'd had three square meals a day and a roof under her head. Rogue had been able to finish in high school, something she'd given up on when she ran away from Mississippi. It had given her a chance to have people like Scott, Kitty, Charles, Jubilee, and Logan in her life.
It really had been a good time in her life, but things had begun to fade back to black again. The professor had informed her after nearly a year of meditation and therapeutic tequniques that her mutation appeared to be incurable. Her relationship with Logan had never gone anywhere; well it hadn't gone where she'd wanted. And then there had been the Carol factor.
Superhuman strength was hers now, but it had come at a terrible price. One she hadn't expected, and hadn't wanted. Aside from her own guilty feelings, there had been repercussions at the mansion as well. From then on she was treated much, much differently. She'd been given a wide berth that she didn't want. The younger children had refused to come near her anymore, and even some of the staff looked upon her with contempt.
Murder. Its what they had accused her of, not in so many words, but she got their point. And she'd had to go through it alone. Logan hadn't returned, and he sent no letters. Its when she gave up on her and Logan, she knew that now. The idea of them had died that day in the courtyard with Scott. His relationship with Queen Jean had ended, and the death of one that existed only in her head took place. Rogue missed Scott. He himself had been a bit wary of her after Carol, but he at least had the balls to admit that it had scared him.
Her relationship with Kitty and Jubilee had cooled at about the same time. They were vague friends when she left, but Rogue realized she hadn't thought about them once until tonight. What sort of friendship was that?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the stroke of the clock. She started when she realized that she'd been here for nearly four hours already. Her tasks had been completed while she'd been dissecting when exactly her life had gone down the toilet. She made a mental note to check her work over again tomorrow. Cracking her neck, Rogue scooped up the last of the mess on the desk and tidied it hp a bit.
She was looking forward to sinking into a nice hot bathtub and indulging in a good book and a glass of red wine. It was one of her favorite traits left over from her days with Erik on her mind. He had impeccable taste, and she much preferred it to Logan's predilection to cheap beer.
"Who's Logan?"
Rogue whirled around and her heart skipped a beat. The man who'd been on the table wasn't as dead as she'd thought.
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TBC evil eh?