You're the one who's always chokin' trojan. You're the one who's always . . . bruised and broken.
If she stared up at the endlessness of the night sky for long enough, she could almost pretend that she was home.
Sleep may be the enemy, but so's another line. It's a remedy . . . you should take more time.
Some people, particular one particularly annoying and vapid creature known to the world as Jean "I Have One Brain Cell" Grey, would argue with her that she was home. And though Rogue would much rather suffer through the Black Plague than to agree with her highness of haughtiness, she could see how the red headed telepath might form such an opinion. After all, she'd been at the Institute for almost two and a half years now. She'd fought alongside her teammates against a number of big bad . . . bad guys and more than earned her place as an X-man. All the people she trusted and cared about lived underneath the same roof. All but one.
I understand the fascination. The dream that comes alive at night. But if you don't change your situation, then you'll die. Don't die. Don't die.
But then, home was supposed to be a safe house. The single place in the world where you always feel comfortable and you always feel like you belong. Even though life at the Institute was comfortable, Rogue had never been able to shake the feeling that she was a fish out of water. Partly because of her background, partly because of her powers, and partly because of the inherent loneliness that she never seemed to be able to alleviate, no matter how many people she surrounded herself with. The only place she could remember being really and truly happy was within the fifteen miles of land that made up Caldecott County, Mississippi. It was where she had stolen another's life for the first time, but it was also the place where she had taken her first steps, ridden her first bike, faced her first rotten day of kindergarten. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember walking towards the school, her backpack riding high on her shoulders and her stomach somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. Irene had walked her to the front door, her white cane tapping a rhythmic beat on concrete. Then the tapping had stopped.
She missed her guardian. She missed the smell of jasmine that permeated the air around her house. She missed the slow, easy way people took their time speaking. She missed everything. The hot sun, the murky air, the muddy waters of the Mississippi River, her entire goddamn life before her "gift" had cropped up and ruined it all.
Her hands curled unconsciously around the balcony railing and she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the anger burn through her. She could hear the stone cracking beneath her fingers and concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths. Her head began to pound and her insides twisted violently. It wasn't fucking fair. Nothing was. Why did she have to walk the earth as some godforsaken soul sucking leech?
Just as abruptly as it had come, the anger drained away and was replaced with the same tired, miserable feeling she carried around on her shoulders like a golden cross. Her fingers went lax on the railing, but not before putting ten new thin grooves into the stone. She opened her vivid green eyes and glanced down at her hands. Even though she was alone, she still kept her fine leather gloves tugged up to her elbows. One more layer to the untouchable Ice Goth.
". . . . . that there's something wrong."
"Of course there's something wrong. The girl just unleashed the most powerful mutant to EVER walk the earth. Even though she was being controlled by Mesmero, I can't imagine she's feeling particularly happy right about now. I doubt you'd be a bundle of joy either. I mean, you get pissed when you trip on the stairs in the morning."
At the sound of arguing voices, and the blatantly obvious reference to herself, Rogue leaned forward over the balcony for a closer look. She rolled her eyes at the couple that came strolling passed her window, completely unobservant as usual.
Jean and Scott walked hand in hand, talking in their annoyingly high pitched voices like the brainless dolts that they were. Did it even occur to them to look up and see if she was standing there BEFORE they started talking? Of course not! Honestly, Rogue didn't have any clue as to how Jean managed her telepathy. It was hardly any wonder the girl passed out after using her mutant ability. It had to be exhausting trying to exercise a brain the size and consistency of a rotten turnip.
Let's see now, Rogue thought, leaning her elbow on the railing and settling her chin in her hand. Annoying voice, brainless dolt, brain the size of a turnip. That's three nearly consecutive Jean-bashing thoughts in a row. Not mah best recorah, but then they ain't done talkin' yet. She glanced around and frowned slightly. Mahbe Ah outta be writin' these down.
Scott stopped and turned, taking a moment to rub his hand behind his head in his typically gesture of deep intellectual thought. "Look, we're a team right? And when one of our members is down, we all need to pitch in and help right? That's all I'm saying."
Jean slapped a hand to her forehead and resisted groaning. "She's a person Scott, not a rescue mission. Why don't you put your anal retentive squad leader uniform in the laundry and just give the girl some time to herself. The last thing she wants is to be bothered."
Well well, Dr. Grey. That's fifty points fer ya.
"Since when do you have all this profound insight into Rogue? Two weeks ago we had to drag you off of her kicking and screaming something about mud pies and dog shit," he commented, pushing his ruby lenses further up his bulbous nose. Jean's eyes narrowed to thin slits as she recalled the incident.
"Well, can you blame me? She put dog shit in my hair while I was sleeping! DOG SHIT! IN MY HAIR!! IN MY BEAUTIFUL RED HAIR SCOTT!!"
Okay, looks like mah time is done here. Turning away from the love birds before her snickering caught their attention, Rogue headed into the room she shared with Kitty and over to her stereo, thinking now was the perfect time to blast out a little Godsmack. Nothing like a little metal to level her mood. It was really too bad the Christina Aguilera's voice made her want to gouge her eyes out with toenail clippers. "Dirrty" really would have fit the situation.
Before she could reach the on button though, Kitty came sliding through the door humming loudly to herself. The valley girl took one look at Rogue and beamed a mile wide grin that looked like it belonged on a patient in a mental ward.
"Like, don't touch that dial! Did you forget what day it is?" she asked in her very bubbly voice. Rogue raised one pencil thin eyebrow and felt a nagging sense of impending doom.
"What's todah?" she questioned warily, involuntarily glancing around for possible escape routes if the words "facial", "plucking", or "bonding" were mentioned. Another wide grin. Another smothering wave of doom.
"Like it's totally N'SYNC Friday! All N'SYNC, all night long!"
And with that, the Shadowcat bounced her way over to her own stereo and cranked it on to max volume. Instantly the cheery, disgusting sugar coated vocals came pouring into the room, threatening to eat away at the dark, moodiness that Rogue had spent so much effort cultivating.
"Oh Mah Lord, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy nahme."
Holding her two index fingers out like a cross in front of her, Rogue blindly made a beeline for the door. She nearly broke it down in her haste to get it open, already feeling the cold chills of terror racing down her spine. The sight of Logan standing on the other side, one arm poised as if to knock brought her up short. He raised his bushy eyebrows at the look of extreme panic and horror that was splayed across her pale face.
"N'SYNC Friday, eh Stripes?"
Bobbing her head frantically, she stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind her, trapping the god awfulness inside. Finally safe, she let out a long sigh.
"Yeah."
Shaking his head, Logan gave his own shudder and Rogue laughed lightly. The wolf-man had made his own feelings on the boy band phenomena abundantly clear once by hacking one of Kitty's prized cd's into fifty million pieces. Of course, then he had felt guilty and shown his soft side by giving her three more for her sixteenth birthday.
Taking a careful, concern study of her face he could see the faint line between her brows that meant she was feeling annoyed, angry, upset, or some variation on that theme. He was worried about her; the last couple months had been particularly rough on her. In fact, nothing in her tenure as an X-man had been smooth sailing for the teen. Kid probably feels smothered in her, every one walkin' around her on eggshells, trying to avoid bringin' up Apocalypse. Reaching into his pocket, he made an impulse decision that he figured he would pay for later either in blood or money. But the misery in her green eyes was enough to compel him. He lifted his left arm and dangled a set of keys in front of her. She stared back at him, not comprehending.
"Go on, get outta here. Just don't get you and anyone else killed." He paused, and then added sternly, "Unless you absolutely have to."
Blinking slowly, she stared at him for another few seconds out of sheer disbelief. Then she snatched the keys from his hand before he could retract the offer. She had been wanting to get away from the mansion for a while now but something had always come up. Injuries, random acts of possession.
"Thanks Logan." Her eyes lifted to meet his and they lightened slightly as she smiled. "Ah 'preciate it. Ah'll be careful. Ah promise."
"Famous last words kiddo. Remember. No killin' unless you have to."
"Gotcha."
****
Commercial For Levi's by Placebo