The Secret
Chapter Two: Rogue
Rogue sat quietly at the edge of her bed. Bad dreams came with the territory when you absorb other peoples memories. After a while, unless they're re-occurring, you just dismiss them. After you're done shaking, crying and occasionally screaming.
But Rogue particularly disliked this memory.
It was Jeans.
Rogue found herself standing on the stairs of some tall building's fire escape. It was raining and dark so she couldn't make out more than the metal stairs in front of her. Something was tied tightly around her waist.
She was vaguely aware of a voice behind her, perhaps speaking to her, but she had tuned it out.
She was aware only that people were coming after her, and she had to go down these stairs to get away.
But the stairs seemed to end far too early. Maybe they should have wrapped around the corner, or continued down, but they did not.
They stopped short.
And Rogue, feeling like and seeing herself as Jean, stepped on to the last step and slipped.
"No!" She cried out harshly as her legs shot out from under her. She lashed out with one hand. Briefly she caught the metal handrail, but for some reason, her first thought was of fingerprints, and she let go instinctively and irrationally, realizing that she had left them anyway.
Surely the rain will . . .
But that was all she had time for, as the horror of slipping out in to that wild and stormy night was just too much for her.
And she found herself sitting up, her legs hanging off the side of the bed, but afraid to stand up off the bed for fear of falling.
"Stupid." She chided herself, standing up just to dispel the fear, but hugging herself closely just the same.
And then she looked at the clock. It was still early. Early enough that she should go back to bed unless she wanted to drag herself through the afternoon and evening.
She pulled herself in, under the blankets, and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she was asleep and dreaming again.
But it was different this time. She was still falling, still drenched and cold, but it was controlled. Jean must have caught herself with her powers. She thought.
The earth was climbing slowly and steadily towards her, visible only in the occasional lightning. Her entire focus was on the ground. She was aiming to put herself down in a creek, surrounded on all sides by trees and wilderness.
Then almost too quickly, she was on the ground. She banged one knee, and it hurt, but she laughed out loud as the thunder rolled and lightning flashed across the sky.
Something was wrong. The echo didn't sound like Jean. The echo sounded like a man's laughter.
But she had no time to consider this. She had gotten tangled in some form of spider web or clothesline and had to fight to extricate herself. And that meant letting go with her left hand.
She looked purposefully and intently toward the green duffel bag in her hand. She set it down on the bank of the creek. She wanted to tear it open and laugh in mad, naked delight at her success.
But, first things had to come first. And a moment later, she was free of the rope and clutching the bag with both hands as she checked her compass and began heading out of the woods.
A soft humming rose up out of the night and became overpowering in pitch and volume. When it had Rogues full attention here eyes flew open and focused on the clock. It was her alarm. It was time to get up.
