**Story Note: This is what Rogue experienced during and after the events I described from Remy's perspective in "My Own Private Antarctica." I figured she deserved her own explanation of what happened. Here it is in her own words. Enjoy.**
"Hey there." Kitty waved to me as I came into the kitchen.
"Hey." I looked for the apple juice.
Wow. That was the first time in a month I'd looked for something I wanted in there. I guess I was getting better.
You see, I was kinda out of it for a while. My ... I don't know what to call him, boyfriend, lover, the man in my life, Remy LeBeau ... split my mind into a million pieces. To say he has issues is an understatement, sugar. But then again, I'm not super functional, either.
Anyway. I absorbed his memories and his feelings once, with my powers, but I held together at the trial Magneto hosted for him. I had to. I don't know how I made it, though. As soon as it was over, I shattered. I had to just drop him and try to sort things out.
It was so bad, I don't even remember taking him back to the mansion, though they say I did. I remember only feelings, memories scattering before the wind. Hatred. Loneliness. Love. Desolation. Self-hatred was a large part of it, though other emotions swirled through me. I did think, once I let him go, because it was easier without him there, touching me. Shattering me.
I forgot who I was when I heard his voice. I spun in a void, not him, not me. No one. I had to get away.
Now, of course, I felt guilty about having stayed away. The professor kept telling me that I should talk to him, try to explain. Easy for him to say. How do ya say, "Hi, sweetie. I love you. But having you around makes me crazy, so I avoid you like the plague?"
Well, at least I don't have to tell him, "Hi, sweetie. Glad you survived, even though I left you alone in a frozen wilderness to die." At least I don't have to attend his funeral. I shivered. I'm amazed I managed to take him back here as it is. I must really love the swamp rat.
"How are you?" Kitty put down her milk. I shrugged.
"I'm me today, at least. You get kinda tired of being someone else after a while, even someone as interesting as Remy." I found the juice and gulped it down. "Tell you what, chere, absorbin' powers sucks."
Kitty's eyes widened, and I thought back over what I said. Damn it. "I did it again, didn't I?"
"Did what, Rogue?" I knew that drawn out voice. He'd stopped talking to me a couple weeks ago, but I'd heard it plenty before then. Oh, God. I had to hold on to me, that sense of me the professor had been drilling into my head.
"Talked like you." I looked over. He was there, trying to look casual, with dark circles under his eyes and more lean than when I'd last seen him. I should try to talk to him.
He snorted. "Why a woman want talk like a man she abandon, Gambit not understand."
"What are you talking about?" I slammed the apple juice bottle to the counter. "I didn't leave you. You split me apart, cher. Couldn't think wit' you fightin' for control all the damn time!"
"You blamin' me?" He blinked. "You call me cher? Since when'd you do that?"
"Since I absorbed you into me, Remy." I walked toward him. "Can't help it. Can't integrate you like the others, bub, and then you end up freein' everyone else I've ever taken. Thanks, Cajun."
Damn it. I hadn't been Logan for a week. I wanted to crush something, slash it to bits. My claws extended, and I stabbed a chair viciously. Kitty muttered something about school and left. Gambit watched me, head cocked, as I ripped the back of the chair off and threw it to the ground. I felt my self melting away again. No! Hold on, Rogue.
"You losin' yourself." He pushed away from the wall and took a step toward me.
I retracted my claws. The Cajun wasn't a bad guy, really. So why was I so pissed at the sight of him? "No more than usual, Cajun." There was a ripped up seat back in front of me. Huh. Maybe I'd gone into a rage again.
"Rogue?" He walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I stared at it. He's not normally the touchy-feely type. I thought a little, then decided to let him live. He must be hurtin' over something. Probably a woman. He goes through them faster'n I go through beer.
"She ain't a bad kid." I reached for my cigars. Damn. Musta run out. Maybe the Cajun has something I can use.
He looked at me strangely. "Logan."
I nodded. "Got a cigarette? I'm tapped, and I gotta smoke somethin'."
He handed me a butt, eyes widening. "You gonna be all right, chere?"
I drew myself up, amazed at his arrogance. "Mystique is always all right." Then I looked around and saw I was in the Xavier Mansion, and frowned. "Maybe I will not. If you will help me get out of here, I shall reward you. I am loyal to those who are loyal to me." The man was not responding. I grew impatient. "Why do you not answer me?"
I dropped the cigarette I was holding. What the ... ? Gambit was looking at me like I was crazy. "Mystique?" he asked, wary red eyes on me.
"No, Remy," I said, slowly. "Did I lose it again?"
He nodded. "You been doin' that a lot?"
I sat down in a mutilated chair. "Every day since I got back." I covered my eyes with my gloved hand.
His arm came down and held me, and I started to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair.
I sniffled. "It's okay." I wiped my nose on a paper napkin. "I will help her integrate, but it will take some time, Gambit, and I have been too busy to tell you what we were doing. For that, I should apologize to you."
He stopped holding me, which I appreciated, and backed up. I am all for familiarity among my X-men, but Gambit can be too familiar at times. "Sorry, chere. Can't stay here while you doin' this. Come see me later?"
"Of course." I had a business to run, X-men to help, and numerous other difficulties on the horizon, but Charles Xavier always makes time for people who are important to him. I would indeed see Mr. LeBeau later.
He left, and I tried to move my chair. It was stuck in place.
I raised my claws and slashed the legs out from under it. Then I stood up.
Hey. My cigarette was on the floor. I picked it up and walked out. Maybe the elf was up for some hunting, or maybe I should see if Hank was up for some pool. It sure beat sitting around the kitchen doing nothing.
