Author's Note:
I'm baaack! After lord knows how long. The whole Cody concept sucked. So it took me ages just to come up with this filler. I seriously need a beta. Anyone interested? I've been suffering a major case of writer's block and a hectic life. Please forgive me )
--
She sighed, all the frustration she felt channeling into that simple sound. Steam wafted around her, clinging to her bare shoulders and face. Raising a hand, Rogue wiped the mirror in front of her, clearing away the mist to reveal a much clearer picture of herself. Pale skin stared back at her, auburn and white striped locks hanging limp and damp. But what struck her most was the empty look in her eyes. A hand tentatively reached out to brush against the emerald reflections before falling away to remain motionless at her side.
The psyches are getting restless Rogue…
The Professor's words echoed listlessly in her head. Seemingly in response, a sharp pain pierced her head, making her clutch her head in silent agony. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Just as fast as it had appeared, the pain faded away in an instant, leaving Rogue gasping. The pain had started growing in intensity ever since she had awoken that day in the Med Bay, the worried faces of the Professor, Logan, Storm and Beast hovering over her, partially blocking the blinding fluorescent light.
These headaches you've been experiencing, why didn't you speak to me sooner about them?
Because she was tired of sitting in the leather chair of Xavier's office, trying to find a way to solidify the weak walls of her mind into an impenetrable fortress. Because she was tired of living her life in constant isolation, never being able to share the intimate touch of another human being. Because, quite frankly, she was sick of living a lie.
We're here to help you Rogue. Please, let us in.
She had let someone in. And she had left him behind in Mississippi, along with a chapter of her life she longed to go back to, yet close off at the same time. Her mouth quirked up in a smile as she thought of Irene, the woman's cane tapping reassuringly beside her as they walked the banks of the river, the older woman listening patiently as Rogue rambled on about the wonders of Mother Nature. And then there had been Cody…
Lord, Logan was right. She was drowning in self-pity. Rogue twisted the tap, cupping her hands beneath the icy water gushing out. An arc of water splashed into her face, the stinging cold jolting her out of her reverie. She could do this. She had faced worse and had managed to come out on top. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Rogue made for the door.
--
Remy watched as the once friendly game of mutant soccer became an all out war. Bobby had frozen up into his iced form, currently attempting to freeze off Magma's fiery hair. Jubilee ducked as Sam whizzed by her, his path marked by a fast breeze. An army of little Jamie's ran amok in the field, the clones and the sole original weaving their way in and out of the chaos to get to the ball.
'Oh no you don't!' Roberto yelled, a small ball of fire starting to form in his upturned palm. The Jamie that faced the older mutant donned a mask of perfect innocence.
A shrill, sharp whistle pierced through the din, making Remy wince in pain. It didn't seem to affect the New Mutants though. The small ball in Roberto's hand continued to gain in size. He watched, amused, as Logan stalked towards the band of teenagers, his fists unconsciously clenching and unclenching.
'Are ya jus' gonna sit there an' smirk all day Gumbo?' Logan growled, surveying the damage. A large crater now marked where Roberto's ball of fire had exploded, grass and mud flying everywhere, drawing more enraged shrieks from the female players.
'M'jus' enjoyin' de peace an' quiet,' Remy replied, grateful for having chosen to reside on a branch of one of the institute's many willow trees. The man known as Wolverine graced him with a glare before turning his full attention to the unknowing group, impatience radiating off him in waves.
A flash of white up on a balcony caught Remy's eye as Logan exploded into a litany of curses he was sure the Professor would immediately frown upon. He squinted, trying to decipher who it was. A lone figure stood at the railing, leaning over with a hand supporting her chin.
Rogue.
Remy's heart lurched unexpectedly at the name. Her unusual hair danced in the wind as she looked out over the grounds, her body unmoving. He hadn't seen her since the day she had well, lost control. The Professor had calmly reminded them all to allow Rogue time and space to adjust and recuperate from her taxing ordeal, refusing to say anything other than that she had suffered a mild relapse. And Remy had agreed, albeit reluctantly. After all, he didn't want to risk drawing the wrath of Logan or Storm.
So he had stayed away. All the while, a multitude of conversations had played out in his head between the two of them. Rogue had gathered both his hands in his in one scenario, pledging her undying love and devotion to him. That was what unnerved him. Love wasn't a word he usually associated with women.
After all, look w'at Cupid gone an' done w'it dis here Cajun…
A memory of blonde hair and blue eyes encased in a black leather suit surfaced unbidden in his mind, bringing with it a torrent of bitterness and betrayal. Yes, love had struck him with a vengeance once before. And it had left him with nothing but a tattered heart and a hefty mark on his head. Remy was no longer welcome in the Big Easy, the one place where he truly called home. He fixed his eyes on Rogue once again, trying to remind himself why this girl was so different from the others he had encountered.
For one, Remy thought with a wry smile, she seemed immune to his charms, warding off his blatant advances with tenacity. That put her above any other girl he had ever had the pleasure, or misfortune, of encountering. While other girls fawned all over him when he let slip a French endearment, Rogue simply raised an eyebrow, pointing out repeatedly that she would never, ever, be his chere. But now…it was difficult to identify the forlorn figure above him with the vivacious Goth he had come to know. After Storm had arrived with Rogue in her arms, he had managed to skim a few details off the gossip that suddenly seemed to permeate every conversation. Rogue loosing control of the many psyches inside her head seemed to not be a one time affair. Apparently, it had happened before during a battle with the now somewhat defunct Brotherhood. The Professor had managed to subdue the raging mental entities, though just barely. He had seen worry crease the Charles Xavier's brow during the debriefing, as well as the concern etched deep into his eyes.
'All of ya better getcha asses down into tha Danger Room-'
A loud sound of protest erupted from the gathered group of rookies.
'Keep that kinda thinkin', and ya last session will look like a cakewalk,' Logan warned, growling loudly. Remy saw several faces pale as a sudden hush descended over the field. The Acadian sympathized with them – his body still ached from the nightmare Logan had put them through after Remy had attempted to maim Kurt.
'Well?'
Feet immediately started scrambling as limbs flailed everywhere in the haste to get to the locker rooms as fast as their legs could carry.
'If anyone needs me, tell 'em I'm occupied,' Logan said before stalking away. Remy ensured Logan was a considerable distance away before descending from his perch, his feet landing lightly on the soft grass. Rogue had disappeared from the balcony. A smirk begun to form on his face.
Maybe she was lonely…
--
Rogue padded silently down the corridor, feet sinking into the plush carpet beneath her. The mansion seemed eerily quiet now, the usual raucous now gone, replaced by the faint thrum of the thermostats. Only Logan's Danger Room sessions could accomplish the unthinkable, she thought with a small smile – pacify the hyperactivity that the teenage years generated. It would be easier then to speak to the Professor.
She tugged absently at the formfitting white long-sleeved t-shirt that she wore over a simple pair of dark stained jeans. She never knew she owned anything so bright, her wardrobe usually consisting of deep rich colours, such as blacks, plums and forest greens. White was the colour of innocence, the psyches had railed, a concept that had long since eluded her. But something about the shirt had struck her, made her pull it over her head before her mind could protest. The white almost seemed to bleed into her pale skin, she noted, looking down at her hand as it glided down the wooden railing. A stark irony indeed - the dove white of virtue against the scarred black of her mental soul. The previous determination she had felt started to crumble, ebbing away bit by bit.
'Bonjour chere,' a familiar voice greeted her. Her steps halted abruptly as she felt her heart start to hammer wildly against her chest. She lifted her eyes to focus on Remy, who leaned against the huge double doors of the mansion, his posture relaxed. Words refused to form, her vocal cords rebuffing the notion of saying anything to him.
But he's my friend. Remy's my friend…
Who would befriend a vampire of souls?
Rogue shook her head, dispelling the second voice. The psyches were getting stronger.
'Chere?' Remy asked, concern lacing his voice.
'Ah'm fahne.' Her voice came out gravelly, like it had been treated with sandpaper. Her accent had thickened too, she noticed.
'Y'sure?'
Rogue nodded in response, beginning to feel nervous under Remy's intense stare. His demonic eyes had never scared her before. It was just a part of Remy that made him…well, Remy. She always felt somewhat unsettled whenever he masked his red on black irises with the holographic watch Beast had passed along to the young Cajun. She heard him clear his throat, trying to break the awkward silence that seemed to have descended upon the two of them.
'About w'at happened dat day at de-'
'Ah don't want to talk about it,' Rogue replied shortly, trying to ignore the brief shadow of hurt she had seen cross Remy's face. The whole thing seemed so unreal, and maybe if she could just bring herself to wake up, this would all be like a dream…a nightmare that constantly loomed on the horizon.
You think this is a nightmare? Like, try getting stuck in some freako Goth's head for all eternity and then we'll start talking about bad dreams!
This time the psyche's voice – had that been Kitty? No one else she knew used the word like quite like the suburban valley girl herself – was like a bullet wound to her skull, impacting and resonating with as much subtlety as Wolverine in a feral rage. She felt her body pitch forward, both her hands coming up sharply to press hard against her temples.
Why can't you just leave me alone? What have I done to you?
Done? This time it was Logan's psyche, the animal side of him becoming unhinged, leaking his raw rage deep into her mind. Ya call drainin' someone of their memories nothing? Ya call takin' pieces of me that I don't want anyone to know about absolutely nothing?
'No,' she rasped, feeling Remy's footfalls as he rushed forward to catch her body. 'Please, just leave me alone!'
In the distance, she could hear Remy frantically call out to her, his fingers trailing lightly across her scalp, some of the warmth from his fingers suffusing through the thick covering of her hair. A part of her latched onto his tenderness, desperate to find an anchor.
Get away from him my dear daughter, Mystique's mental residue echoed cruelly in her head. What kind of man longs just for an emotional bond? He wants the physical part of a relationship Rogue, something which you can never provide.
'Remy?' She whispered, trying to focus. But the strain was just too much. They were pressing in on all sides now, each voice she heard sending a cacophony of hurt slicing through her already fragile mind.
'Remy…help me.'
That last desperate plea, made by her own voice in a barely audible whisper, was the last thing she heard before she found herself surrounded by the psyches, each one laughing as they sent her into a fresh wave of agony.
--
'Merde!' Remy cursed, seeing Rogue's eyes roll up into their sockets, the white of her eyes ominously exposed. The full weight of her deceptively slender body now slumped wholly against him, testing his time-honed reflexes as he struggled to maintain a proper sense of balance. All the white, he ensured that every inch of her exposed skin stayed away from his bare arms. He cursed again, rebuking himself for not wearing his trench coat today of all days.
His mind now rationalized the next best course of action. An unconscious Rogue, he decided, was not a good thing. Particularly after what the Professor had told them that day in the War Room…
Xavier!
Hurridley, he slung one of her arms around his shoulder, his hand reaching across to rest on the side of her covered arm. Finally, he started off at a fast pace, holding Rogue's body close against his side, his mind mulling over the five minute drama that had just unfolded.
Ma'be Remy pushed her too hard? After all, de fille still recoverin', from w'at Remy can gather…
The look of pain that crossed her face did not belong there, he surmised. She was too good a person, too beautiful to be faced with anymore of the hardships life had decided to send her way.
Woah dere Cajun. Y'readin' way too much into t'is here entire t'ing. Focus on gettin' de chere to de Professor before we even t'ink of sortin' out dat t'ing y'call a heart…
The hallway came to an end and Remy ducked into the main foyer, fingers reaching out to rapidly punch the button on the wall.
'C'mon,' he breathed, shifting Rogue's drooping arm onto his shoulder again. A soft ping sounded and the carved wooden wall in front of him slid away to reveal a stainless steel interior. Remy stepped quickly into the interior, pushing the button labeled 'subbasement'. He had overheard Beast telling Storm how, together with Xavier, he was going to go over something, a stream of meaningless medical jargon going through Remy's ears and out in an instant.
The elevator shuddered to a halt, the doors opening once again. Remy darted through the subbasement, his boots clanking loudly against the metal tiled floor. Protective walls wrapped around him, the path in front of him forking off to the various other rooms the X-Men were forced to conceal from prying eyes. He heard the whirr of the containment cell, the sounds of battle coming from the Danger Room.
'It's medically impossible but it seems to have somehow bonded itself to the blood sample,' he heard Beast's cultured voice before Remy raised a fist to pound on the door to Doctor Henry McCoy's haven – his lab.
'Professor! Quelque chose s'arrivé (Something's happened)!'
The sound of harried footsteps was heard before the door opened with a depressurized hiss. He saw the eyes behind the Beast's reading glasses widen, taking in the sight of the unconscious Rogue hanging off Remy's shoulder.
'Oh my stars and garters.'