Title: Losing Everything
Author: Estonia Lockhart, or more commonly known as Gwynje
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Except Logan ::snickers:: . Okay, only a piece of him. Fine, fine, fine! I own nothing but my computer. (lies, lies, lies). So don't sue me. Thanksomuch.
A/N: I know this has taken forever, and I am so sorry! Thanks for your patience. For all those still interested, this is for you.
Feedback: Bring it on.
"Oh God." The knuckles of Jean's fingers drained of color as her hands balled into fists, and her eyes shut tightly. "Scott, she can't be out there."
Cyclops brought his hands up to her shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. "Don't worry," he said softly, trying to calm her. "We'll find her soon. We'll find both of them."
The doctor's light brown eyes shot open. "No," she said shakily, grabbing onto Scott's hands gratefully. "It's more than that." Turning to face him, Jean gave him a meaningful look before continuing. "Scott, Rogue's sick."
"We all know that, Jean, but it's nothing to worry-"
"No!" Her red hair shook emphatically as her eyes shut again, straining to calm herself. "It's more than that."
Scott gazed at her inquisitively, sensing the alarmed fear in her voice. "What do you mean, Jean?"
"Magneto had Rogue on valium most of the time, so that he could experiment on her without her interference, and to keep her body reactions normal. Inevitably, she ended up addicted to it - her body needed it to function. For a while I had her on Phenobarbital, which is an anti-convulsant preventing her from experiencing seizures, as well as other symptoms of her withdrawal."
The memory of Rogue's hollow expression, and the haunted shadows that played across her face came back to his mind. "What kind of other symptoms are there?" Even as he said the words, he knew it would only get worse.
"Scott...," Jean paused, running her fingers perplexedly through her hair. "Anyone who comes off of that many dosages of narcotics as she took in, would without a doubt have hallucinations, seizures, anxiety attacks, and hot flashes that could cause her to break into a cold sweat." The doctor swallowed, turning her back on him again and glanced out the window.
"Why didn't you say anything before this?" The seriousness and danger of the situation struck him instantly.
"Because I didn't want anyone to treat her differently. She was having such a hard time readjusting already - especially since Logan disappeared..." she trailed off, giving her husband a pleading look.
"The important thing is, if we don't find her soon, she could die within a few days. She hasn't eaten - hasn't slept - and with hallucinations, she could jump right off of a bridge."
The jaw muscles in Scott's jaw clenched together tightly as he nodded. "I'll get the car and look for her on the roads. It's only been a couple of hours - she couldn't have gone far."
Rogue panted heavily, taking only a moment to rest and catch her breath. Already, she had lost track of time, knowing only that the sun had set just minutes before, and darkness was spreading rapidly over the city. Even though the sun was gone, it still left a burning heat that caused a ray of moisture to collect over her eyebrows. Her hand lifted to wipe away the sweat, but she stopped, steadying herself when the world began to tilt.
"Oh god," she murmured to herself, clutching her head in agony. Whimpers filled the air, and it was a shock to her system when she realized they were coming from her own mouth. "Oh, god." Panic seized her, and in a mad spur of desperation, she found herself charging into the open street, her arms flailing in the air.
"Help me!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, jumping back as a Rolls Royce almost ran over her toes. "Please help!" Cars whizzed past her, a few pausing to hiss curses and reprimands as they drove past. Tears fell from her eyes, but she blinked them away, trying to focus on the headlights in front of her.
One car was coming straight toward her at top speed, its wheels squealed through the air and its headlights blinded her. She tried to shield her eyes, but as she did a bloodcurdling scream rose from her throat.
It was going to hit her.
The stink of burnt rubber filled the air as the car screeched to a halt, merely inches in front of her. The driver, coated with bright light from the headlights, stuck a head out the window. "Get in!"
Without a second's hesitation, Rogue flew to the passenger door and yanked it open, sliding inside. She hardly had time to buckle her seatbelt before the car picked up speed again, throwing her back against the seat.
"You're going too fast!" she cried out, her voice high.
The driver turned to look at her, a frown deepening above their eyebrows. "I'm only going forty, lady. If you have a problem with that, then you can get yourself out."
Rogue shut her eyes, trying to tune out the sound of screeching tires against the pavement. "Th - thank you for picking me up."
The driver sent her a suspicious glance. "You a hitch-hiker, right?"
She nodded.
"Where you headed?"
Finally, she opened her eyes, a sense of purpose and searching filling her. She was going to find Logan. No matter what, she would find him and keep him safe from the likes of Magneto. It scared the hell out of her, knowing she'd probably have to face her enemy again. But her fear was minimized by her concern for Logan. The adamantium-clad man was no match for a mutant who could control metal. She could save him. She could.
"California," she answered quietly, her eyes focusing on the road, willing it to lead her. "Or as far as you can get me."
The driver chuckled. "Well, you're in luck, lady. I'm on my way to Nevada. That's more than half the distance."
Pyro ducked low to the ground, his eyes searching out into the darkness. So far, there wasn't a sound, but an alarm didn't go off for no particular reason. And it was way too coincidental that barely seconds after the alert sounded, the lights would go off.
"This is stupid," he hissed, peaking around a corner. "It's probably just a squirrel or something like that."
"Shut up." Toad didn't turn to look at him, but his face was drawn into a fixture of stern command. If he spoke again, Pyro knew he'd pay for it. Instead, he just made a face and stared into nothing. "We have to be cautious," the human amphibian continued with a hiss, "This base hasn't been used for years, but it's not completely secure. Anyone could find it if they looked hard enough."
St. John bit back a sour remark, clicking his lighter open and closed.
"Stop that now!" Toad spit at him, coating the lighter in his mucous so it would no longer open. St. John opened his mouth to protest, but he hushed immediately. "Go that way," he gestured down the left side of the hall, where very few emergency lights lit the pathway. "If you see anyone, burn them."
He was still unused to the cold-blooded command of 'kill them', and always had trouble following it through. Now he only hoped it really had been a squirrel. With a long swallow, he nodded to him, and slinked around the hallway, crouching low to the ground as he proceeded down the hallway.
"This is stupid," he muttered again, once out of his overseer's earshot. Instead of creeping around their own base, trying to find out whether or not there was an intruder, they should be running out to meet their enemy head-on, ready to defend their territory. If, in fact, there were FOH agents sneaking through their facility, Pyro would be more than happy to give them what they deserved.
Then he grimaced in disgust, trying to pry Toad's rapidly drying mucous off the lighter with his fingernails. If it didn't come off, he promised to burn off that frog's tongue; it might even make the bad breath go away.
"Grrrrr," he swore under his breath, scraping off barely enough to slip his finger through. He stopped in the hallway, and focused intently on freeing his lighter. He'd definitely kill that toad if it stuck permanently.
There was no way he could have noticed the silent padding of footsteps, even if he had been on the alert. What he did notice, however, was the sound of claws ripping through flesh.
::::sing::::
"Where the hell is he?!"
Pyro's eyes widened as he was grabbed from behind, blood trickling down his cheek. He tried to lift his hand to the wound, but found his arms pinned behind his back by one strong, adamantium hand. His heart pounded furiously as he remembered that voice; it belonged to a man who had once been shot in the head, only to stand moments later just as growly as ever.
"Wolverine," he breathed, at once regretting the air he had used to say it. Claws glinted in the dim lights, pressing sharply against his neck.
"Where's Magneto?!" Wolverine repeated, his voice much more threatening. Pyro shrieked in pain as the blade pierced his skin again.
"I don't know, man," he replied, gasping for oxygen. Blackness crowded his vision, and he tried to shake his head, forcing his thoughts back in order.
The blade pressed harder. "If you don't tell me, you'll die."
St. John grimaced, trying unsuccessfully to thrown the man's grip off of him. His eyebrows furrowed as realization and immense panic struck him as one, powerful hit. "This is about Rogue, isn't it?"
In answer, he felt himself being tossed to the ground, his skull connecting to the pavement with a sickening crack. Blood poured from his mouth, but unfortunately he was still conscious. Pyro moaned, kicking his legs weakly as he tried to lift his head; it seemed as heavy as the adamantium molded into his attacker's body.
Hazel eyes glared at him, fire burning in them so fiercely in the dimness, Pyro in his confused state wondered if he could manipulate it. "He-" more blood spilled from his mouth, "He's on the bottom floor. That's-" he paused, gasping for air. "That's all I know."
Logan grunted, a small twinge of regret stabbing at him. This - This was just a kid. He'd been one of Rogue's friends only a few months ago, and now he'd probably broken more than a few of his bones. In fact, he had no idea if this kid would live.
Logan's eyes narrowed. Maybe he'd come back to check on him later. But for now- now, he had someone to kill. His nostrils flared, and six inch claws stretched out into the air, supported in their menace by a blood-thirsty growl.
Then Wolverine continued hunting.