Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine.
Thanks to Randirogue, TheRealMai, GreenFairyGirl88, ishandahalf, Antonia, Sara, and Aro, for reviewing my last chapter of Barely Breathing.
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How did I even get here?' They young woman shook the dust from her hair, climbing to her feet. Her vision was a little blurry, and she blinked a few times, clearing the crud from her eyes.
A slight stinging feeling distracted her, and she slowly bent her head down, acknowledging the glass shards that had embedded their way into her arm. Her mind felt fuzzy, her muscles like molasses. She began to pick the shards from her skin, ignoring the pain as tiny drops of blood decorated her arm.
She could feel her breath moving in and out, thudding loudly in her ears. When she had pulled the last bit of glass out, she lifted her green, desolate eyes up, taking in her surroundings.
A long expanse of highway. No car. No sign of what had broken and bit into her skin. She shuffled her feet around in the gravel. One clammy hand rose to her forehead as she started walking to a railing a dozen yards away that protected the edge of the road.
When she reached the metal strip she rested her body against it, leaning over. A large body of water resided below the railing, stretching out significantly, forming a huge lake. It had to be a hundred degrees out; she could feel the sweat pouring down her neck as she stood her back against the sun. She had an urge to jump the hundred feet down, into the water to cool off.
She swallowed, realizing her throat was parched. As she took a deep breath she could hear herself wheeze. Her nails began to dig into the railing, as one hot tear slid down her cheek.
She had no memories before this moment. She wasn't even quite sure what her name was. She tried focusing on the area on the other side of the lake where she could just make out the shape of a large house. Maybe they could help her.
She could hear the honking of a car in the distance. She didn't turn to it though, her mind was processing things very slowly, and her energy was low.
The spitting sound of gravel and an engine shutting off came moments later, as two pairs of feet began to walk towards her.
"Excuse me, Miss? Are you alright?" The voice sounded genuinely worried. She looked down to her arm, covered in a red tint, shiny with her blood. She turned to face the man, as she tried to choke out words.
He was a good looking man, standing there eyebrows furrowed, decked out in red sunglasses. A red head shuffled behind him, trying to get closer.
"Ah-Ah don't know." Her eyes became more confused at the sound of her voice. Ah'm from the south? She thought, turning her attention back to the couple.
The man glanced to the woman beside him quickly. "Look, my name's Scott, and this is Jean," he pointed to the red head. "Why don't you let us help you? What's your name?
She swallowed. "Just uh, call meh Rogue.
The man nodded. "Ok, well, Rogue, we work in a hospital just across that lake." Rogue glanced in the direction of his pointer finger.
Jean rushed forward then, a white rag in her hand that Rogue had not noticed before. "Let me help you with your wound Rogue." Jean smiled, wrapping the cool clothe around Rogue's arm.
The three began to walk back to Scott's red convertible in silence, as Rogue fingered the soft clothe on her arm. She took a back seat, returning her vision to the large house across the lake. The car rumbled to life as Scott moved back onto the road. No one spoke for a few seconds.
"What kinda hospital is that anyway? It looks like a mansion ta meh." Rogue muttered.
She heard Jean clear her throat. "It's more like an institute Rogue. Not necessarily for mentally ill people." Jean paused. "It's uh, more like a place for people who are different to say the least. People who can't be a part of this society.
"It's run by a man named Eric Lensherr," Scott added, glancing in the mirror to look at Rogue. "You'll see Rogue. We'll help you.
The rest of the car trip was silent as they drove up the long winding road to the mansion. She felt like she belonged in a horror movie as she took in the creepy wrought iron gates laced with vines. Looking to her right as they entered, she could make out a garden, and what looked like a graveyard on top of the hill to its side. They pulled to a stop near the front steps and Rogue joined Jean and Scott as they exited the car.
As they entered the front lobby, Rogue could see a young girl in the corner near the grand staircase. Her back was to the trio, and she made no move to face them. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail and she seemed to be staring at the empty wall in front of her. Jean and Scott were musing over what looked like a bundle of mail, and paid no attention to Rogue nor the girl in the corner.
Slowly, the young girl turned her head sideways, her blank expression eying Rogue. She gave a short smile, but her eyes remained eerily hollow. Rogue spun around to face Scott and Jean.
"Who's that girl over there?" Rogue asked in a hushed whisper. Jean and Scott looked behind her, their expression confused. Scott removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes.
"What girl Rogue?
Spinning back around, the girl was nowhere in sight. Rogue cursed herself, wondering if she had been seeing things.
"Ah think Ah need ta sleep, or somethin'.
"That's probably a good idea Rogue," Jean agreed, "But first I'm going to take you to see Hank, our resident doctor, so he can patch your arm up.
"Um, alright." Rogue continued to look around the lobby, half expecting to see the girl again.
She felt a hand touch her shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you to the infirmary.
They began to walk down an empty hallway, once again in silence. But it was just Jean and Rogue this time, Scott had business elsewhere.
Rogue peeked in every room they passed. The setting sun had begun to create dark shadows, making the details of each room hard to make out. A large archway marked the next room, which seemed to be the kitchen, as Rogue picked out a stove through what little light was left.
But she stopped when she noticed a figure crouched on the counter, one leg dangling over the edge. No overhead light was on, covering the man in a shroud of darkness. She paused, enraptured by the man somehow, as if he were silently calling to her.
The man rose his head as if he felt he was being watched. Rogue felt herself gasp as two red dots made themselves visible. Suddenly she was tugged away rather forcefully by Jean.
"Jean, wait! That man in there had-
"He didn't have anything Rogue. Around here it's best to forget those sorts of things. Especially when it comes to that man.
Rogue ripped her arm from Jean's sharp grasp. "Whaddya mean around here? What is this place?
Jean
continued walking, and Rogue began to pace slowly behind her.
"This
is just a hospital Rogue. For those that think they are something that they are
not; that don't truly understand their condition.
"Ya mean they are crazy people then?
"Some of them, yes. But most are just confused and scared." Jean pressed an elevator button, and after the soft ding of the door opening, she stepped inside. Rogue followed her.
"So y'all just let these people wander the mansion?" Rogue asked sarcastically.
She noticed Jean's jaw tighten. "I was once a patient here Rogue. Eric is a great doctor. He understands that his patients are still people.
Rogue just nodded as they reached a pair of glass doors. As they walked into the sterile white lab, Rogue noticed a largely built man, bent over a microscope.
"Hello Hank." Jean greeted him.
He held one finger up to signal that he was almost down. A few moments later he stood up, a large grin on his face. He pushed a pair of dark rimmed glasses further up his nose. When he noticed the blood soaked clothe on Rogue's arm, his face scrunched up.
"Oh dear. This must be the patient Scott spoke of.
"When did you speak ta Scott?" Rogue asked suspiciously.
"Over the intercom my dear," Hank replied pleasantly. "My name is Hank McCoy. I am told you go by Rogue. Is there a last name?
"No.
"Fair enough. Have a seat." He gestured to a padded table, and Rogue sat down.
Jean began to head out, waving good bye. Hank moved over to a silver tray of equipment, picking up a few antiseptic pads. As he pressed them to Rogue's wounds, he began to hum.
"They really didn't pierce meh too bad Mr. McCoy.
"Please, call me Hank," he smiled as he threw the used pad into a nearby trashcan. "How did this happen Rogue?
Rogue tried to direct her attention to her arm. "Ah, uh, don't remember.
She noticed Hank pause. "Is that why you couldn't tell me your last name?
"Yes," Rogue replied embarrassed. "Ah don't remember anything bout' meh life before today.
Hank sighed, moving to his desk. He grabbed a clipboard.
"I'm going to run some more tests on you Rogue. It sounds like you may have amnesia.
Rogue swallowed and nodded, her feet kicking against the table.
"Ok Hank.
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"I don't know what you were thinking Remy! I should report you to Eric for this!" The red head fumed, placing her hands on her hips.
The Cajun's expression remained still, unrevealing. He exhaled the smoke of his cigarette in annoyance, never looking at Jean as he sat on the outside steps lazily.
"It ain't my fault Jean. No one told me we were having a fucking guest tonight." His words were spoken in a calm tone; one fluid, non-committal sentence.
"We don't have to keep you here you know," Jean threatened.
This caused Remy to smirk, as he rolled his eyes upwards at Jean. "What's de matter Jean? Tired o'me setting your nerves on fire?" Remy tapped the ash away, his eyes glued to hers in disgust.
Jean grimaced, her muscles tightening as she crossed her arms as if to protect herself. "I'm tired of you not playing by the rules." She countered, trying to raise her chin, hide her fear.
Remy turned his gaze forward again, stubbing his cigarette out on the stone steps.
"Not all o'us can be Scott Summers." It was his last response, as he allowed his eyes to gleam dangerously. Jean marched away on angry steps, leaving Remy by himself, as the sun disappeared, covering the sky in darkness.
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Rogue breathed a sigh of impatience. She had been stuck in Hank's lab for four hours, waiting for a series of test results. For the last five minutes she had been listening to him grunt and murmur, without actually wording anything to her.
Finally he turned to face her, his expression grim. "Rogue, I'm sorry, but, it looks as if you may have to stay here for awhile longer.
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Ah don't think so Hank. This place gives meh the creeps.
Hank sighed. "Rogue, has anyone explained the nature of this place to you?" He pulled up a stool beside Rogue.
"Briefly. It's an institute for crazy people. People who think they're something they ain't.
Hank smiled, but quickly it faded to a frown. "Close, I suppose. You see Rogue everyone here is sick. They have a gene that is slowly screwing up their growth process, affecting quite often their mental health, making many crazy.
"And what kind o'gene is this?" Rogue asked, curiously.
Something passed over Hank's eyes, his face suddenly becoming stern.
"That isn't the important part Rogue.
"Well, Ah ain't crazy. And Ah don't feel sick, so Ah'm leaving if you won't tell meh more." Rogue slid off her seat, but Hank grabbed her arm.
"You have the gene Rogue. You will be affected soon enough.
Rogue ripped her arm away. "Ah don't believe ya.
Hank put his smile back on. "Rogue, I am not here to harm you. If you do not start treatment immediately, you could very well die.
She stood there unmoving, as Hank moved to a counter, his back to her. She closed her eyes, trying to understand everything. She couldn't be dying. But then again, she couldn't remember anything about her life.
Hank returned with a bottle of pills. "Take one of these twice a day Rogue. I will schedule for you to meet with me once a week. I will send for Jean again, and she can lead you to an open bedroom.
"This place is a like a hospice," Rogue whispered, lightly clutching the bottle of pills. "It's a place for people who're dying.
Hank looked to the floor. "Yes, Rogue, I'm afraid it is. Everyone here has the same disease. But some do recover.
"Ah saw the graveyard out front Hank.
His eyes roamed to the counter. "Yes, it is unfortunate how many have been buried there.
Rogue wanted to know more, but she could feel the fatigue in her bones. She heard the doors swoosh open, and Jean call for her.
"Ah'll be back tomorrow Hank. Ah want ta know more.
He nodded distractedly, returning his attention to his microscope as Rogue followed Jean out.
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Rogue had returned to the kitchen that evening. She told herself it was to grab a glass of water to swallow down her pill. But truthfully she hoped to see the strange figure again.
She rummaged through the cupboards, laughing silently at herself for keeping the lights off, in hopes of attracting the man. Finally she found a glass, and she moved to the sink. She let the water run through it, as she gazed out the window. One white pill lay nestled in her palm.
She raised her hand up to place the pill on her tongue, when a hand swooped around and clasped over hers. Startled she dropped the water glass back in the sink. Her scream was muffled as another hand pressed against her mouth. It was surprisingly gentle against her lips.
"Y'sure you want t'be taking dat cherie?" The voice asked quietly. He removed his hands, her pill now in his possession.
"Well, Ah'm sure Ah don't want ta die," she began, spinning around to meet her attacker. She felt her body jolt slightly as she took in the handsome man before her.
He held the pill up in front of her face between two of his fingers. "Well, dis pill is guaranteed ta make y'crazy chere.
Rogue crossed her arms, suddenly feeling at unease. The man was standing incredibly close to her, his warm scent intoxicating her nose. She began to feel the same pull as she had before.
"Ah was told Ah would go crazy if Ah didn't take it.
The man laughed bitterly. "Dere be a lot bout' dis place you don't know about. Yet.
"Why should Ah believe you?" Rogue asked.
"Because chere, y'already trust me.
Rogue laughed. "Excuse meh? Are y'all one o'the people that's already crazy?
Remy's hazel eye's saddened. "Non chere. I'm one o'de few sane left.
"Then why are ya still here? Why dontcha just leave?
"It's complicated chere.
Rogue cocked her head to the side. "Ya were the man Ah saw earlier in the kitchen. Ah swear your eyes looked red.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of voices in the hallway distracted him. Quickly, he leaned in closer, his mouth near her ear.
"Trust me belle." He whispered
Rogue closed her eyes, her breath catching.
When she re-opened them, he was gone. But Jean and Scott were in the doorway. As they flicked the light on, they finally noticed her presence.
"Oh. Rogue, what are you doing in her with the light off?" Scott asked.
"Oh, uh," Rogue began to feel something in the palm of her hand, and she looked down. It was the pill. He had given it back. Quickly she pulled her glass out of the sink and refilled it. "Ah was just getting a glass o'water." She slipped the pill into her pocket and scurried past the two, avoiding eye contact and whispering good night on her way out.
When she had made it safely back to her room without another confrontation, she took the pill back out, staring at it once again. Her mouth tightened as she considered the stranger's advice. Clasping her fist tightly, and grunting in frustration she put the pill back in its bottle and collapsed into bed.
