Warning: Offensively harsh language lies ahead. Ye be warned.

Runaway Rogue
Chapter 4
Just…Relax

"Are we sneaking out?"

"I guess so." Scott shrugged in the darkness of the garage, trying not to trip over anything on his way to his car.

"Why don't we just ask if we can go out?" Jean whispered, even there was no real reason to.

"'Cause I get the feeling they'll say no." Scott said. "Besides, this way is more fun." Just then, his foot thwacked into something hard and metal, causing him to stumble. "Ow! Sonofabitch!"

Jean sighed and the light flicked on. "More fun, huh?" She shot him a look while watching him hop around on one foot, holding the other.

"Oh yeah, loads." Scott put his foot down and tried not to limp the rest of the way to his car. "So, where to?"

Jean slid into the seat next to him. "Wanna just drive around until we find some place that looks good?"

"Fine by me." Scott started up the car and hit the garrage door opener, the garage door opening slowly.

"I can't believe we're doing this." Jean said as Scott slowly eased the car out of the garage.

"Doing what?"

"Sneaking out."

Scott shrugged. "Bound to happen sooner or later. I blame the violence in video games. Now hang on."

"For what?" Jean was flattened into the back of her seat as Scott floor the accelerator, shooting down the driveway at an alarming speed. "Scott! Slow down!"

They didn't slow down until they reached downtown Bayville. They cruised around for a while, talking and just hanging out while the radio played. Scott thought that he hadn't seen Jean this relaxed since before the Professor began adding on to the numbers of the Institute. He could never tell anyone when exactly he fell for Jean Grey; it just seemed like he had always unconsciously loved her. But he could tell exactly when he became aware of his feelings for her. It had been on a Friday night, a little less than a year ago. At dinner, no less. He asked her what she was doing that night, having a half formed idea of maybe asking her to the movies. Maybe as a little bit more than friends because just maybe, maybe he liked her. But she replied that she was going out with this boy named Duncan who was on the football team. A possessive feeling of jealousy immediately filled him and he had to stop himself from blurting out 'no you're not!'. Scott didn't remember how that conversation had ended; just knowing that he had been filled with a jealous kind of hate for Duncan Matthews ever since.

"Hey, this place looks good." Jean pointed to a place across the street from them, interrupting his thoughts. Scott nodded and found a parking space on the street.

It was one of those revived 50's doo-wop places, complete with black and white checkerboard linoleum and red shimmering vinyl covering the booths that lined both walls. The pair headed towards the back of the malt shop where the counter was. Scott ordered and paid for both double chocolate shakes while Jean picked out a song on the old jukebox over in the corner.

"So," Scott said, after they had received their milkshakes and had sat down at one of the booths. "How's your milkshake?"

"Mmm," Jean nodded, swallowing down a lusciously thick and chocolaty mouthful. "Good."

"That's good." Scott replied. There was a comfortable silence for a few moments until Jean looked suddenly very excited while drinking her shake.

"What is it?" Scott asked, wondering if she needed the Heimlich or something.

Jean pointed up at the ceiling and said, "I love this song."

Scott listened for a few seconds, recognizing the song as 'At the Hop'. "I didn't know you liked Oldies so much."

"I don't." Jean replied. "Well, not that much anyway. It's just this song always reminds me of American Graffiti."

"You like that movie?" Scott asked, hopeful grin starting to form on his face.

"Yeah I love it!" Jean said. "It's like the only movie that I had to watch for school that I actually liked."

"No way, that's one of my favorites too!" He replied, full smile on his face. Jean had the same favorite movie as him, they had something in common! They had something to talk about, they could watch it on a Friday night, they could make weird references to it in conversation and no one would get it but them. Whoa, slow down, Summers. Just because she liked the same movie as he did, didn't mean that they were the perfect match and destined for each other.

"Isn't the best scene when Terry ties down the axle of the cop car and then…" Jean seemed unable to speak for a split second while her eyes darted to and stayed on the front door of the malt shop. "And then the cop pulls out and leaves it behind?"

Scott didn't answer, instead was turned around so he could see what was so distracting. Who else should walk in but a group of Duncan's friends? Scott turned back to Jean. "Do you wanna go?"

"No." Jean shook her head and focused on the milkshake in front of her, tucking an errant lock of red hair behind one ear. She reached out and patted his hand. "C'mon, what's your favorite scene?"

Scott cast a lingering glance back at the group of teenagers in the front of the store before speaking. "I like the scene where Curt and Debbie are watching the submarine races and Debbie starts telling him about the serial killer or whatever and they both get scared shitless."

Jean laughed. "That's a good one. How about when--"

Two hands slammed down on the table. There were bangle bracelets around one wrist which lead up two long arms to Taryn's scowling face. "You. Bitch."

Jean felt her eyebrows rise on her head. She had expected some kind of backlash from Duncan's friends, but Taryn looked downright ready to kill her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me you goddamned soul-sucking cunt." Taryn sneered. "I knew you were an ice-queen but I can't believe you'd actually go that far."

"What are you talking about?" Jean said, hoping against hope that this wasn't going to get out of hand. She took her eyes off of Taryn for a second to see two more girls that were part of Duncan's little pack of hussies that he liked to keep around him at all times. The guys they brought with them seemed content to watch everything from a booth near the door. Taryn smelled like something familiar…. "Taryn, are you drunk?"

"Fuckin' no." The other girl said in a manner that seemed to confirm that she was at least a little buzzed. "I'm fucking pissed off at you for killing my friend!"

At that moment, the two girls who had been approaching now flanked Taryn in an oddly ominous show of feminine posturing.

"Look, I don't know what you heard, but I didn't kill Duncan." There was an undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice that Jean damned herself for, hoping it wasn't noticeable.

Scott knew what Taryn was like when she got mad. It wasn't anywhere near what the tall dark-haired girl looked like now. He sense he should probably step in and mediate before it turned into a cat fight. "Taryn, leave her alone and go sleep off whatever you're on right now."

"Shut up Summers!" Taryn snapped at him. "You're pathetic you know that? Going after this red-head of a whore."

"Hey! You leave him out of this!" Jean shouted, standing up from her seat. "You got a problem with me, take it up with me."

"Aw, what's a matter sweetie?" Taryn mocked in a sickly-sweet voice. "Did I hurt your next piece of man-meat's feelings?"

Jean stepped right up into Taryn's face, keeping her voice low and even. "You have no idea what went on between me and Duncan, I love him and I would never hurt him."

"If you loved him so much," Taryn said, her voice matching Jean's. "Why did you let him fall?" She swept her gaze over Jean. "I heard you pushed him over."

"I did no such thing!" Jean cried, to which Taryn responded, "Like hell you did!"

There was a loud slap and Jean reeled back, clutching a hand to her still bruised cheek. The same cheek that had been slapped by Duncan a little less than twenty-four hours ago. Scott was in front of her in a flash, keeping her back from lunging at Taryn and keeping Taryn from further injuring Jean.

"That's enough Taryn!" He said using the loud, authoritarian voice Jean had heard him use with the younger students at the Institute when they were in trouble. "Leave her alone." He grabbed Jean's hand and led her out of the shop, and didn't stop until they were seated in the car.

"I'm-"

"Take me home." Jean pleaded, interrupting whatever Scott was about to say. She was curled up in the passenger seat, knees drawn to her chest and her hand to her cheek still. The pain that had started to slowly ebb away with a day's worth of time was now back in full force, just as if she was still standing on that balcony watching the fight between Duncan and that strange man. Watching him go over the edge, seeing the look of absolute fear and shock as he knew the end was here. Was it her imagination or did he lock eyes with her for a second? Did those brown eyes plead with her to save him? Ask why she wasn't doing anything to save him? Wonder why she hated him so much? Did she hate him? She started crying, the single day's worth of distance not being enough to stop the hurt, the guilt, the self-blame from enveloping her again.

"Jean, relax. Its okay, it's okay. Calm down." She was in Scott's arms again; he was holding her, trying to soothe her. He was running his hand up and down her back, having half pulled her into his lap. She looked around and saw that they were home, in the garage at the Institute. She leaned back into his shoulder, taking a few minutes to collect herself.

"Are you alright?" Scott asked a few moments later, holding her by her shoulders at arm's length. "Do you need me to go get the Professor or Hank or something?"

"No." Jean sniffed, her voice still having that unique strained quality that only came with crying. She wiped her eyes and looked at Scott. "Thank you."

"It's no problem Jean; you know I'm always here for you." He said, brushing hair away from her face.

"I know." She sniffed again. "I really appreciate it."

"That's what friends are for." Scott replied. "Why don't I walk you up to your room?"

They walked up to Jean's room, Scott's arm around her shoulders the entire time. He was such a good friend to her, even when she treated him badly and ignored him all those times for Duncan. She didn't deserve his support.

"Well, here we are. Good night, Jean." He said once they were standing outside the door to her room.

"Good night Scott." She replied, opening her door as Scott walked off towards the boy's dorms.

"Hey, Jean?"

She turned around to see him a short distance down the hall. "Yes, Scott?"

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay. I will." She nodded. She turned to go back into her room but found that she couldn't. "Scott?"

Scott turned just in time to see Jean rushing towards him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. It lasted just long enough for Scott to get over his initial shock and wrap his arms in return around Jean's waist. Suddenly, she pulled away.

Oh my God! Taryn's right! I am just some man-eating monster! The abject fear of that single thought reflected clearly in Jean's eyes.

"I'm sorry." She whispered and before Scott could reply, the door to her room slammed shut.

"No, it's ok….really, it is." Scott murmured to himself and then sighed, ashamed of him self. Jean didn't need him salivating over and pawing her right now. What she needed was a friend and that was all they were ever going to be, he sternly reminded himself. He turned around and headed for his own room. Women. They just had to make being a nice guy so ridiculously damn hard.

The next morning, Sunday morning, dawned bright and sunny over Bayville. The air was crisp and clean, promising pleasantly warmer temperatures later on in the day. The younger students probably would spend the day basking in the glory of the nice weather and the fact that the school year would soon be coming to a close. The older students…well, they were a different story. The ones that had been at Duncan's party had to go to questioning with the police today and none of them were really looking forward to it. For Rogue, however, that was an understatement.

Rogue was freaking the fuck out.

What if they found out about her drugs? What if they arrested her? Hell, she was a mutant; they'd probably just shoot her in the fucking head thanks to Kurt's little malfunction at the party. Hell, going along those lines those damn pigs were probably just using this whole questioning thing as a line up of sorts to just pick out the weirdest one out of all of them and just pin it on that one. Which was Rogue, obviously. She stuck out like a sore thumb around here; she never belonged here in the first place. And the cops hated her too, always picking on her for stuff. . . . That damn guy had been asking to be punched in the face.

Rogue leaned on the counter in the bathroom, pushing her two-toned hair out of her face and looking at herself in the mirror. She needed to calm down about this or she may as well just march in there, tell them she was a stoner and hand it all over.

"Alright. Deep breaths." She said to herself. "They don't know nothin' about me, Ah'm just some punk kid ta them at some disciplinary school or some shit like that."

She stared herself down in the mirror for about three seconds before sighing harshly. This easy breathing yoga shit wasn't going to work; she was going to need some help.

"Rogue! C'mon, we're gonna be late!" She heard Scott call from out in the hall way.

"Just a minute!" She called back, leaving the bathroom. She rummaged around on the mess that was the top of her dresser, a picture of her and Kitty and Kurt catching her eye for a minute. It was during one of her short-lived sober stretches, before she met Remy. She shook off the nostalgia before it got a hold of her and started opening up drawers and tearing through them, the clothes in side getting sloshed over the edge and onto the floor.

"Where the fuck did Ah put them?" She whispered to herself agitatedly, slamming one drawer shut and opening another for another vigorous search. The sound of a plastic baggie hitting the floor was heard and Rogue looked down at her boots. There they were!

Rogue picked up the baggie from the floor and held up the contents to eye-level. Inside were three marijuana cigarettes left over from….sometime, she couldn't remember when. She opened he bag and sniffed at the air inside them, figuring that they weren't the ones she paid extra to be dipped in wet. She didn't need to go completely bat-shit on some cop in the interrogation room. She took one out and stuffed it down the front of her shirt, securing it snugly in her bra.

"Rogue! Let's go!"

"Alright, Ah'm comin' already, keep yer goddamned pants on!" She hollered back, dropping the bag on the floor and leaving.

Scott took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the glass of water on the table, drinking from it. The room was just as he'd imagined it would be. Sparse. White washed cinderblock were the walls, bland linoleum on the floor, a table with two metal chairs on either side and a single set of fluorescent lights hung over head, giving stark white light to the room. Oh, and of course, the obligatory mirror that took up one side of the room that everyone knew was a one way window. His reflection stared back at him next to one of Warren Worthington's expensive lawyers.

The door opened and a man walked in, wearing an empty chest holster over his white dress shirt. He looked the stereotypical overworked detective nearing retirement. "I'm Detective Marvin Katz." He said sitting down across from Scott and the lawyer and placing an ancient looking tape recorder on the table between them. He shuffled the papers in his folder while gruffly stating, "I'll be handling your questioning."

He looked up from his papers at Scott. "Relax, Mr. Summers." From the way he said it, it sounded like Scott should do anything but relax. Scott nodded and set down the glass of water, now empty. Marvin Katz pushed a button on the tape recorder and mumbled off something about case numbers and stuff.

"State your name for the record."

"Scott Summers."

"So, Mr. Summers. From what I hear, you and Mr. Matthews didn't get along very well, did you?"

Scott glanced at the lawyer and at her slight nod, answered the question. "Honestly? No." He said. "He hated me and I wasn't too fond of him either."

"So what were you doing at the party then?"

"My…" At the thought of Jean, the kiss from last night flashed through his brain. "friend invited me to go."

"Friend?"

"Yeah, Jean. Jean Grey."

Detective Katz made a noise in his throat, nodded and scribbled something down on his legal pad. "She was involved with the deceased?"

"Uh, yeah. They'd been going out for a while."

The detective looked up at him with a piercing glare. "You like her?"

"What?" Scott said, obviously thrown. How did he know? Would he tell Jean if he told him? Or was she being questioned by someone else right now?

"I fail to see the relevance of that question." The lawyer next to him spoke up. She had closed cut hair and was wearing a purplish-red woman's suit. She seemed…bitchy.

"Just trying to get to know the kid a little bit." The detective said, slightly defensively, raising a hand.

The lawyer nodded but Scott didn't feel like answering the question still.

"C'mon." Katz said. "When I was your age, any red-blooded American kid like yourself would be jealous of Matthews. Unless you're…."

"Oh, no. No." Scott shook his head. "Not that there's anything wrong with…but I'm--"

The detective held up his hand to stem Scott's babbling. "That why you it him? Got in a fight with him?"

"No. He was drunk and acting like an asshole. Someone said something about hickeys and the wide receiver, he thought it was me and came at me. I only hit him in self defense." Under Detective Katz's penetrating gaze he added on, "I might have been a bit jealous of him. But he deserved it."

"That jealousy why you pushed him over the edge of the balcony?"

"No!" Scott vehemently declared. "I might have thought the guy was a complete dick, but I wouldn't kill him."

"We have witnesses--"

"Well they're wrong!" Scott shouted. "I was in the kitchen watching my friend Pete hurl up massive amounts of puke into the sink when I heard Jean start screaming and I ran out to see what was going on. When I got there it was too late. Jean was trying to go over the edge and get Duncan, I guess she was delusional or something, but I held her back." Better to lie and tell him that than Jean could fly and he was really just keeping her from getting up close and personal with Duncan's dead body.

Detective Katz nodded and wrote some things down. "I still have a few more questions…"

Just breathe. Remember those yoga things Ororo told you. I have nothing to hide, I should be fine…right? Kitty smiled nervously at the detective, Detective Lee Mason, across from her. He looked angry. Almost like some one had woken him up from a nap too soon. But he was still kind of dreamy in that whole cop way.

"State your name miss." He said.

"Kitty Pryde, er, Katherine. Katherine Pryde . . . but I prefer Kitty."

"Okay, Kitty. I want you to do something for me." Mason said. "I want you to take a deep breath and relax. I'm just going to ask you some questions. No one's in trouble … yet." He winked at her.

She breathed in deeply, the action doing nothing to calm her nerves. Yet. No one was in trouble yet. That meant they thought someone should be in trouble. What if it was her?

"So, Kitty, did you see what happened to Mr. Matthews?"

"No, I was, like, in a different part of the house."

"How did you find out what had happened?"

"I heard someone screaming and went to see what was up and then someone like totally flipped out, screaming that Duncan was dead and then people started saying he was pushed, that he fell off, stuff like that."

"Do you know who pushed him off?"

"Some guy I think was fighting with him and he went over."

Detective Mason wrote something down on his paper. "Do you know where Scott Summers was?"

"Ohmigod! You guys think Scott did this?!" Kitty cried. "You've totally got it all wrong! It was like a total accident--!"

"Alright, calm down Miss Pryde." Lee Mason said "You still haven't answered my question."

Kitty looked over at one of the lawyers that the Professor got for them. He made a gesture that basically said 'go ahead and answer'. "I'm not sure where he was." She replied. "But I know he wasn't near the balcony. In fact, I think he was out front."

The detective raised a brow and simply stared at her.

"Alright, fine!" Kitty sighed. "That was a lie. I honestly don't know where Scott was, but I know he didn't like, push Duncan or whatever. I don't know who said he did, but they're wrong."

"Duly noted, Miss Pryde." Detective Mason smiled slightly for a brief second before getting back to business. "Was there a Mr. Alvers at the party?"

"Lance? Uh, yeah, he was there." Kitty replied, eyes darting right, then left then back on the detective across from her.

"Do you know what he was doing there?"

Enabling Rogue she wanted to spit out, but didn't. "Um, probably just enjoying the party like everyone else."

"He wasn't selling drugs or anything else?"

"Not that I know of." She lied. Of course he was there selling drugs, Rogue was proof of that. But she couldn't exactly rat him out without ratting out Rogue too.

Detective Mason looked at his papers in front of him, picking one up to read. "We've heard that there was an altercation between you, Mr. Alvers and a Mr. Wager. Is that true?"

"Yeah." Kitty said quietly, hesitantly. She tried not to remember the way Lance pushed himself up against her, the way his smell choked her senses . . . the way that a secret, teeny-tiny part of her might have liked the attention from Lance.

"Care to explain what happened?"

"I. . ." Kitty stared, closed her mouth, swallowed hard and then tried again. "I was mad at Lance. We just broke up not too long ago and it was nasty and ugly and stuff and when I saw him, I kinda like, picked a fight with him. He thought I was coming on to him or whatever and then he just like…attacked me."

"Attacked you? Did he hit you?"

"No, he like totally tried to do me right there against the wall."

"Did he hurt you?" The detective's voice was tinted with concern and maybe…triumph? Excitement?

"No." Kitty shook her head. "He didn't get that far. Kurt like, saw him and totally fought him off. Very knight-in-shining-armor-like." She found that she was smiling slightly at the memory of Kurt heroics.

"Uh-huh." Mason nodded, scribbling something down on paper. "This Kurt is Mr. Wagner I presume?"

"Yeah." Kitty nodded.

Detective Mason put his pen down and folded his arms on the table, leaning in. "You wouldn't be able to tell me why there were reports of a 'blue demon' shortly after this fight, would you?"

A flash of panic shot through Kitty before she remembered to keep clam and stay neutral. "Blue demon?" She laughed, hoping it sounded real. "I think you might have been like, interviewing too many kids who were on acid at the time."

Detective Mason smiled. "Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but I had to ask. Department policy for when a bunch of people say the same thing, you know how it is."

Oh thank god he bought it! Kitty was elated and unbelievably relieved on the inside, but remained relatively unfrazzled on the outside. Or at least, that how Kitty hoped she looked.

"Just a few more questions and then we'll finish up…"

"And then, get this, then she comes running up to me and kisses me."

"No vay!"

"Seriously! I had no idea what was happening. . . I only wish I had known ahead of time so that I might have been able to, you know, work some of the Summers magic."

" Summers' magic? Zhat vas gross, but I totally get vhere you're coming from man."

Rogue rolled her eyes and bounced her knees nervously while listening to Scott and Kurt inane and trying-to-be-quiet-but-really-not-succeeding banter. The detective's department, or where ever the hell they were in the dumpy police station was quiet, Bayville not really being big enough to employ 24/7 detectives. That was unless they had two rich snobs up their asses trying to find out why their son was killed. Then the detectives came in on their weekends. All three of them apparently. Jesus, this was taking forever. She could understand why Jean was taking so long; after all, the redhead had been right there. But what the hell were they talking to Kitty about?

Fuck! That little brat better not be ratting me out! She thought suddenly, panic and anger creeping in. No, she told herself, Kitty wouldn't do that. She was too loyal for her own good. Rogue sighed irritatedly, looking up at the ceiling in boredom, and decided that she needed a break from being in here. At that moment, Ororo's hand clamped down on her bouncing knee.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom, child?" The weather goddess asked, not looking up from her issue of People.

"Actually, yeah." Rogue replied. "Can Ah go? Or do Ah need ta be chaperoned?"

Ororo ignored her attitude and looked down the hall. She pointed to ladies' room sign that stuck out from the wall. "Five minutes. If you not back by then, I'm coming in after you."

"Alright, alright." Rogue breathed, getting up from the bench along the wall outside the interrogation rooms and walking down the hall.

Once inside the bathroom, Rogue leaned against the door, breathing a sigh of relief. That had been easier than expected. Ororo and the Professor really trusted her too much. If she were them, she'd probably have herself on one of those baby-leashes. Rogue snickered to herself as she went along and peeked under the stalls, finding that she was alone. She then stuck her hand down her shirt and fished around in her bra for the joint that she stashed there. It looked a little worse for the wear, but it should be fine. Taking one boot off, a lighter that she had stuck inside clattered to the ground. Boots were really handy for hiding stuff in. Yeah, a couple of tokes off of this and she'd be just fine. She stuck the joint in between her lips and lit up. Maybe after this she'd go see Remy. . .

"Ah, you're just in time Ms. Darkholme."

Rogue returned from the bathroom, feeling much, much better and relaxed. Ororo and some detective guy were standing up, obviously waiting for her. Jean and Kitty had finally finished their questioning, Kurt was now gone as she saw. Kitty looked like she could use a stiff drink and Jean looked like she could desperately use some kind of narcotic pain killer. Or an anti-depressant. There were two other people, two other detectives Rogue presumed, a man and a woman standing a good distance away from the group chatting about something. The man she remembered from last night, he was one of the two guys that came to the house. The other one that had come to the house was standing next to Ororo.

Rogue drew even with the detective and Ororo, glaring at the detective. "Don't call me that." She all but growled.

"Rogue." Ororo immediately warned.

"Please." She added on, giving a falsely bright smile.

"Alright then. Rogue." He said, as if trying out the word for the first time. He held open a door to one of the interrogation rooms and motioned her inside. "I'm Detective Lee Mason. If you'll come inside I'd like to ask you a few questions about the other night."

"Whatever." Rogue shrugged and walked past the detective into the room. She slouched down in the chair and waited for him to sit down across from her. She winked at the people on the other side of the one-way window while he prattled off some information about cases and stuff.

"Ms. Darkholme. Rogue." Detective Mason started off, quickly correcting himself about Rogue's name. "You've had some problems at school." He said, looking over what Rogue guessed to be her file. "Ms. Munroe was just telling me outside that you were grounded from that party. I would think a girl like you would want to stay out of trouble, consider you've come mighty close to winding up in the system."

Rogue snorted. "Ya ain't gonna scare me. Ah've been in the system. Six foster homes in three years. Juvie ain't gonna scare me, so why don't we just get down ta business so we can all get out of here and ya can go back ta screwin' your wife or whatever." Rogue sat back in her chair. Something didn't feel quite right; she usually wasn't so snappy while high on just some tame, dry, joint. Whatever, like she cared.

"Okay." Detective Mason smiled tightly. "Where were you when Mr. Matthews was killed?"

"Sleepin' off some great sex. What's it to ya?"

"Could you be a bit more detailed?"

"Well, first Ah kissed Remy down stairs and then he shoved me up against the wall, Ah squeezed his fine ass--"

"Not those details." Mason said, holding up a hand in a 'stop' motion. "I meant afterwards."

"Oh, okay." Rogue nodded. "God, is it hot in here?" She rhetorically asked, taking off her purple zip-up sweatshirt. "Better . . . So, anyway, Ah wake up and hear someone screamin'. Ah got dressed, went down stairs ta see what all the hub-bub was about and Kitty stopped me and filled me in on what happened. Ah never even saw the balcony."

Detective Mason nodded as the door to the room opened and in walked another man. "Rogue, this is my colleague, Detective Marvin Katz. He's going to be helping me out."

"What's wrong, am Ah too much for ya ta handle?" Rogue drawled, a lazy smile curving her lips.

Mason gave her a condescending smile and Rogue could have sworn she heard a "yeah, right" under his breath while he was looking down at his paperwork.

Detective Katz however plowed on. "Ms. Darkholme, we've had numerous reports of you attacking a girl at this party. It's been mostly her friends coming forward on her behalf, but so far she hasn't said anything. Would you know anything about that?"

Rogue however, had she been coherent enough to do so, would have just figured out that she had not, in fact, smoked a "harmless" blunt in the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago. But rather, the baggie she had found had contained her wet sticks, marijuana joints dipped in embalming fluid. And the high was just starting to hit her. . .

"Rogue? Ms. Darkholme? Are you listening?" Detective Mason said.

Rogue just sat perfectly still, except for her eyes darting wildly around in her head.

Both detectives just watched her for a second. "Shit. You don't think she's high on something, do you?" Mason asked, leaning over the table slightly and peering at Rogue like she was some kind of specimen.

"Not sure." Katz replied, getting up from his seat. "Probably though. Have you seen her rap sheet?"

"Not to mention the other reports she's been mentioned in." The other man replied, going around to the other side of the table to stand next to Rogue. "Rogue? Can you hear me? Ms. Darkholme?"

The laying of his hand on her shoulder had been a mistake. There was no absorption as her brain was too muddled with chemicals to handle it but those same chemicals were causing Rogue not to see two detectives in an interrogation room. What she saw was a dirty, bloody, scary room with shackles hanging off the walls and two snarling drooling beasts with claws the size of her fingers coming towards her. Something heavy landed on her shoulder and she saw one of them there, breathing its hot putrid breath on her face, emitting a low hungry growl. Truly terrifying. This was why at that moment, Rogue let out an ear piecing scream.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" Mason yelped, letting go of her shoulder as if he had been burned.

"Get the hell away from me!" Rogue screeched. "Stay away!" She scrambled backwards towards the wall, knocking over her chair in the process. Once her back hit the wall, her eyes lighted on the chair (a flaming torch in her drug-induced world) and she seized it, holding it out in front of her like a weapon.

"Get Ramirez in here, I think we're going to have a problem with this one." Katz ordered and Mason fled out of the room, past a group of bewildered looking X-Men.

"Easy Ms. Darkholme, just calm down." Detective Katz said, hands up in a defensive manner. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Fuck you!" She screamed back at him, white locks falling into her face.

"What is going on in here?" Ororo was in the door way, and was quickly pushed aside to let Detective Mason and a woman detective, Ramirez apparently, back in.

"Ma'am, we'd appreciate it if you'd stayed out in the hall. We don't want you, or anyone else, getting hurt." Detective Ramirez said on her way into the room.

"Let me outta here! Leave me alone!" Rogue was screaming.

"We will, we will, just put the chair down." Detective Mason said with his hands up, taking a few tentative steps towards Rogue.

It was a mistake. Rogue let out a rage-filled scream and hurled the chair at the three detectives, who managed to duck away from it. As it clattered against the far wall, Katz shouted, "Now!"

Ramirez and Mason dove at Rogue, taking her down to the ground. She began screaming and thrashing, managing to knee Detective Mason in the face. The air was filled with even more cursing as Mason lurched back and Katz managed to pin Rogue's feet down to the ground.

"Try and get her on her stomach!" Ramirez yelled over the din.

"Fuck you!"

"Rogue, stop resisting—!"

"Ow! She bit me!"

"Get the hell off of me!"

Eventually they forced Rogue onto her stomach, with a bite mark on her arm for Ramirez, a knee in the face and a nasty scratch on his arm for Mason and a couple of kicks in the shin for Katz. It took another five minutes for the three of them just to get Rogue cuffed and by that time, other officers who were in other parts of the building had drifted down from what they had been doing and were utilized to help transport Rogue to the holding cells.

"Where are you taking her?" Ororo asked as four burly officers bodily carried off a loudly protesting Rogue.

A medic had been summoned down as well and was looking at Detective Ramirez's bite wound after handing an instant cold pack to Detective Mason, which he clutched to his face while answering Ororo. "We've got to hold her at least over night for assault on an officer. I've got two uniforms searching the bathroom for whatever she's high on…I would keep these lawyers of yours in close contact for a while." With a slight glare at Ororo, he left her, going over to where Katz was on the phone.

Charles was going to catch an earful from her.

A/N: Well, I hope 12 pages on Word is enough to make up for the last update and long period of time since. So yeah, looks like Rogue is really in for it now, huh? Leave me a review and let me know what you think! And speaking of, I'm going to try my hardest to answer reviews when I get them and not when I update. So if like, two weeks pass and I still haven't replied, nag me at my e-mail address.

And thanks to all the people who left me one-line or anonymous reviews, I love you all!

Mercedes Watson.