Rogue punched at the wall, her fist making a sickening cracking sound on impact. She did not stop, did not look at her hands. Instead, she kept punching the hard concrete wall, tears falling from her eyes, until her thin black gloves were wet with fresh spilled blood. Slowly Rogue looked down at her hands, and seeing the blood, she seemed to reel, her eyes rolling back as she fell backwards. She did not feel the strong arms try catch her before her head hit the hard floor, she didn't see the worried look on her rescuer's face, didn't hear the diagnosis.
Slowly Rogue blinked her eyes open. The pain in her head was the first thing she was aware of, the second was the bright light blinding her slightly. She blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the brightness, but after a minute or so, she gave up and closed her eyes again. This time she focused on the sounds around the room, the soft hum of machines, the constant beeping, which she was pretty sure was connected with her still beating heart. The medical sounds scared Rogue; she had to be in a hospital of some sort. She forced herself to open her eyes again, this time she ignored the pounding pain in her head and tried to sit up, only to find herself secured to the bed. She tried to move her hands, only to find them covered by something heavy. Okay, this makes sense, somehow, she thought to herself, mostly trying to convince herself that she wasn't in danger, even though she had a feeling she was lying to herself. Slowly the pain in her head over took and Rogue fell back into a dreamless sleep. Only once her breathing was soft and it was obvious she was asleep did her rescuer step out from the shadows. He looked her over and then picked up her left arm, frowning a little when he noticed she had bled through the heavy bandages on her hand. Carefully he unwrapped her hand, put some more salve on it, and then redid the wrapping hoping there wouldn't be an infection. Rogue stirred slightly in her sleep causing him to tense and he almost ran from the room in fear that she would wake, but she didn't. Instead, she moaned softly tears trickling down her face. He carefully wiped the tears away, trying his hardest not to touch the sleeping girl. He knew if she knocked him out, he'd be no help to her.
"Shh, it's okay, Rogue, you're going to be okay. You just sleep here for now, I'll find you something to eat for when you wake up," he promised gently taking one of Rogue's heavily bandaged hands in his. He looked at her one last time and then left the room to make sure the arrangements he had been making for Rogue were set up exactly how he wanted them.
Rogue woke again a few hours later and noticed that some one had set up an IV of something. The light was no where near as blinding as it had been before.
"Hello," she whisered soflty her voice raspy from her dry throat. Looking around she noticed that the restraints on her arms had been loosened slightly and her hands hurt a lot less. Slowly she tried to make sense of what had happened. The last thing she remembered had been the announcement in the newspaper, a New Orleans paper she sometimes read in hope that he'd be in one of the articles. He had, she remembered, along with some girl named Belladonna, his new wife. Rogue tried to fight the tears but the slight pain it caused was enough for her to abandon that attempt and start crying, her make up smearing.
