Thanks to everyone reviewing, reading ect. This is one of the longest chapter yet, I think. I went slightly overboard, just don't kill me for the ending. I was personally cheering ever so slightly and the next chapter will be the last (Maybe)
BloodStainedThorns - Yep, dark Rogue is the best but unfortunately no Rogan 'lovin' in this fic, sorry.
RogueNya - One hell of a bump ;) and of course she's right about the spiders LOL.
Tsuki Rae - Poor you! Is it those sugar highs that are causing you to hit your head?
Brit-Babe191 - Hope you're having the time of your life sunning yourself in Africa :) Yes, Logan is God, in fact if he started a religion I would be first in line to join and I'm guessing you'd be the second!
And lastly I'm not a Doctor. I watch House but that doesn't count :P So please don't flame me for anything medical.
With A Little Help From My Friends
Ten minutes have passed and I'm still sitting waiting obediently on the bed. Wait a minute, obediently, what a strange word to use. I would understand if someone had asked me to sit here but I'm the only one that's currently rotting away in this cabin.
What on earth happened last night, why can't I ever remember my nightly outings after drinking? I think it was last night anyway, it's already dark outside. How long have I been sleeping for exactly?
I heave myself off the bed with great difficulty and stumble to my feet. Honestly, I'm never drinking again if this is what happens when you've had one too many. Damn drunkenness and hangovers.
I almost topple over as I attempt to take a step forward and I disturb the sheets that are piled in an established heap on the floor. I gaze down and witness a sizable, black, gruesome, horrid mass of legs scuttle across the ground and seek shelter under my duffel bag.
"Spider!" I hiss and dash out of the room as fast as my legs will carry me.
Walking with due care to check that every step I take remains spider-less, I dawdle into the entrance/lounge/kitchen. Jesus, my head is stinging. Placing a hand to my forehead I discover a titanic bump and I mean titanic, as in the size of the ship in its whole entirety before it was hit by the iceberg type of bump. Did I hit my head?
"Thought I told you to stay put."
I look up and spot Logan standing beside the unlit fireplace clutching the communicator in his hands. "And a hi to you, too." I scoff back. "I think I hit my head..." I pause mid sentence and my eyes widen in disbelief at the sight of the six foot guy clothed in his regular jeans, wife beater and leather jacket, the same guy who left me stranded here for days. "When did you get back?" I demand. "You could have told me. Here I am worrying about your ass and you're perfectly... Why are you looking at me like that?"
He frowns as he stuffs the communicator into his pocket. "This the first time you've seen me tonight?"
If my head wasn't suffering to such a degree, I would be calling him every name under the sun and what an idiotic question to ask. "Yes," I answer sarcastically. "Jeez, it's cold in here, start a fire or something will you."
My knees buckle from underneath me as I walk to the couch and Logan helps me to my feet. "That was strange, it must be all that liquor finally catching up with me." I utter offhandedly. "Hey, you started the fire. That was quick, good for you. I suppose all that training comes in handy."
"There's no fire, kid." He grunts, placing his hands on my shoulders and gazing into my eyes.
"Yes, there is. I can see the flames." Why is he contradicting me?
"The flames?"
"Yeah, the flames. No self respecting fire would be seen without any flames." I scold him. I thought everyone knew that, poor Logan, is must have been a tough mission.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
He lifts me clean off of my feet and places me lightly on the couch. "The Doc's on his way, we should be okay until then, but you need to stay off those feet of yours."
"Doc?" I ask taken aback. "What about Snow White, is she coming too?"
"Just concentrate on stayin' off those feet." Logan orders with a growl. "I need to make another call."
I watch him walk out of the cabin and I glare at my feet. "You heard him guys, now behave yourselves."
"God damn snow" Logan grumbles brushing the snow flakes out of his unruly hair. "Good thing he's bringin' Ro' along for the ride."
He stomps over to the kitchen counter and wraps some ice in a tattered cloth.
"Grumpy!" I shriek excitedly. Now if only I could remember the others.
"Here."
I stare at the bundled scrap of cloth in Logan's hand. "I'm trying to name all the seven dwarfs." I say petulantly. "You're interrupting my train of thought."
"Use this, it'll help with the swellin'." He remarks solemnly.
"Why so serious, Logan?"
My companion sighs heavily and settles beside me. "Cause' a head injury can be fatal, Kid."
"Wow, I feel sorry for anyone who has a head injury." I smile at Wolverine and pat him reassuringly on the thigh. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were tryin' to piss me off." He growls placing the cloth to my forehead.
"Get away." I whine slapping his hand and taking the cloth. "I don't need it. I don't have one of those head thingies."
"Just humour me, okay?"
"Dopey!" I squeak, dropping the cloth and clapping my hands together in glee.
"Marie!" Logan barks sharply.
"Did you recall one too?" I question enthusiastically. "So far we've got... Um... Aw man, I forgot."
"Listen to me." He demands and I nod my head. "You need to keep this on your forehead until they arrive, understand?" Again I nod, of course I understand. "Can you do that for me?"
"I'd do anything for you, Logan, you know that."
He regards me silently for a few minutes but breaks out of his musings when the sound of an aircraft disturbs our heart to heart.
"About damn time. Fur ball flies slower than One Eye did."
Wolverine jumps to his feet and runs to the bedroom emerging with my duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"Leave that here!" I screech, pointing a finger at him. "You're aiding and abetting the... The... I bet its in there now, waiting, just waiting for the right time to strike and then there will be millions."
He shrugs off my anti-spider tirade and throws the bag down at my feet. "Logan, we'll be over run. It'll find a mate and settle down, have babies and they will find me. They have an agenda..."
"Where the fuck is Hank?"
The door opens and in walks a giant animal, a monster covered in slow flakes. "My apologies for the delay, Logan. We've had some grave..."
"I don't give a shit. The Kid's gettin' worse!"
I scoot away from the angry voices and perch on the edge of the couch wiping my sweaty palms on my pants legs. I feel like I'm locked in a sauna, a sauna plagued with spiders and hairy monsters. "Logaaaaan," I moan, a bead of sweat crawling into my eye. "Can you put the fire out now, I'm boiling. I know the flames are pretty but its hot, way too hot. I'm pale, I burn easily and we have no lotion."
"See what I mean? I'm freezin' my fuckin' nuts off, this place is a damn icebox."
"Yes, indeed." The monster is wearing spectacles and clothes, how strange. Not as strange as the colour of his fur though. "How long has she been displaying such symptoms?".
"Bout' an hour"
"Logan?" I whisper, beckoning him closer.
"What?"
"He's blue."
"Well, I believe I've seen enough. We should continue the diagnosis in the X-Jet." The monster declares leading both myself and my feral friend to the waiting aircraft.
"And do you remember how hard you hit your head, Rogue?"
"You're blue" I announce baffled. "Logan, he's blue."
"Yeah, I can see that, kid." Logan grunts, kneeling beside me and strapping me into the seat. "Don't want a repeat of last time, do we?"
"Last time?" I ask puzzled. What happened last time and is that the reason why I'm being treated like an invalid?
"I'll tell you about it later, now answer the good doctors question."
"You can't be the doctor, where's Jean?" I visually search the confines of the X-Jet but I can't see Jean or Scott for that matter.
Logan and the new doctor share an anxious look as I fidget in my seat. "And I thought you said we were going to meet Doc? He's too tall and he doesn't even have a beard... and he's blue." I complain eyeing the dwarf impersonator. "Did I mention he's blue?"
"I apologise if my appearance startles you." The monster smiles shifting in his seat beside me.
Startles me, no, intrigues me yes.
"If it bothers you that much, kid, don't look at him." Logan snorts with a smirk, standing up and folding his arms.
"So, how hard would you say you hit your head?"
Who hit their head, is he talking to me?
"No, you must be mistaken," I reply politely. "There's nothing wrong with my head."
"I believe we're going around in circles." The monster sighs removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I think we all agree on the fact it was a hard knock to the forehead, yes?"
"Yeah," Logan answers. "One hell of a crack."
"Right, and the symptoms are the following; Hallucinations, dizzy spells and to a certain degree, memory loss?"
"Don't forget the shit she keeps spoutin'."
Well that's rather harsh. I feel sorry for the poor person he's talking about.
The doctor scratches his chin and scribbles the symptoms down on a sheet of paper. "Any spells of unconsciousness or bouts of sickness?"
Wolverine shakes his head. "Ugh, I hate flyin'." He groans as he lowers himself into a seat as the X-Jet takes off albeit rather shakily. "How bout' keepin' this thing in one piece, Ro'!"
"I'm trying my best, Logan." Storm remarks gravely. "How's she doing Hank?"
"As well as can be expected, Ororo. It'll be easier to examine her in the med bay." He stands, clutching his clipboard and pen. "Let me know if there is any further deterioration in her condition, I believe I'm needed up front."
I observe the more than friendly interaction between Storm and the monster as he greets her with a kiss to the cheek and seats himself in Jean's chair. Maybe Jean herself is a little too busy with Scott to co-pilot the X-Jet or the Professor most likely decided that two X-men were enough for this rescue mission. I still don't understand why we needed to be rescued though, is Logan fed up with my presence already, do I bore him? Yes, that's more understandable. This is a mission to save his sanity but I'm not the problem its those spiders, they've driven him to the brink.
"Logan, those pesky, troublesome, spiteful, foul and heinous pests will never leave us alone, we have to stand our ground." I inform my partner in crime. "No, I have a better idea. You can stand our ground, fight off the masses because you're brave and I can visit home for a little while."
"Home?" He asks, unfastening his seat belt and turning to face me.
"I haven't seen my folks in ages. I bet they'll be happy to see me." I wonder why it's been so long since I've seen them, dad must have been busy. He was setting up his own business the last time I saw him and Mom was feeling slightly run down.
"You can't, Marie."
"Why not? I'm homesick and my parents would love to see me, wouldn't they?" My lips quiver into a sorrowful frown and I gaze at Logan. "They would, wouldn't they?"
He sighs, hunkers down in the empty chair beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulders. "Anyone in their right mind would want to see you, kid, see you and get to know you better. I know I would and nothin' you ever did would change that."
I thought he already knew me well. We would be considered friends, wouldn't we?
"You're nice, Logan, so sweet." I whisper drowsily, my head resting comfortably on his shoulder.
"I ain't a nice guy..."
"Yes, you are." My eyes close and I fall into a blissful sleep as panic erupts around me.
My eyes pop open and I'm greeted by the sight of a concerned Dr. Henry McCoy peering over me. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He immediately demands, his fingers appearing in my line of vision.
Wow, he really needs to work on his communication skills. Where was the, 'Hi Rogue, how are you feeling this fine day?'
"Three." I answer sullenly. I'm in the fucking med bay, they know I despise it in here. It's way too white and clinical for a start, I can't understand why they refurbished it in the first place. Okay, Jean and her Phoenix friend might have destroyed a great portion of the lab but all that was needed was a slight tidy up and bit of dusting.
"Yes, correct. I should introduce myself," Dr. McCoy says holding out a hand for me to shake. "I'm..."
"Uh, Hank, I know who you are."
"Ah, your memory has returned then and there are no lasting effects?"
"I guess so, but my head hurts." A bright and rather blinding light is flashed in my eyes. "Was that really necessary?" I groan, blinking away the little dancing spots swimming in my vision.
"Of course, we can't be too careful with your health, can we?" He advises me softly. "Now, I think we need to recap the last few days..."
"I hit my head, it hurt like hell, I was talking an absolute load of crap and then I passed out on the X-Jet."
"I couldn't have put it better myself." Hank replies. "But that was a significant head injury, Rogue, you've been unconscious for four days. There was sufficient swelling to your brain."
"Four days?" I cry, sitting up. "I've been out four damn days?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so and there have been a great deal of unpleasant occurrences that you've missed."
"I didn't miss them, I slept through them, Hank. What's been happening?"
"I believe Logan has volunteered to explain them to you." Beast responds avoiding my questioning stare. He volunteered? I think Henry meant to say that Storm has once again forced Logan into talking to me.
"Where is he then?" I demand impatiently, the suspense killing me. I want to know what the hell has been happening while I've been playing the part of Sleeping Beauty.
"He left ten minutes ago, he needed a bite to eat and a shower. Logan hasn't left your side since you've been here." He smiles and pats me on the shoulder. "I'll let you rest, Ororo is waiting for news on your condition."
"I can rest in my room." I inform his retreating back.
"If its all the same, I would rather you recuperate here until I'm convinced you're well enough to rejoin your peers." And with that said, Hank walks out of the room and leaves me here all alone to my recuperation.
This is fucking pointless, only five minutes have passed and I'm bored absolutely shitless. I don't need to recuperate or rest I'm damn well fine. There's nothing wrong with me at all. More importantly there is no television to watch, no magazines to read... And that does it. I won't lie here watching the seconds tick away on that fucking annoying clock.
I elevate myself carefully out of bed and look around the room. "Where the hell are my clothes?" I can't walk around in this hospital gown. Why the heck couldn't they leave my clothes on? Now everyone will know that I self harm, gossip like that will spread around the whole mansion like wild fire.
I firmly yank the drip out of my arm and watch the blood trickle down my skin in a trance. Once again the sight of my own blood calms me and I evaluate my situation. I find something, anything to wear, sneak upstairs, pack my stuff, then I leave and this time I will be leaving alone.
Peeking out of the sliding doors, I sigh contentedly when I discover the coast is clear. I tip toe into the room opposite and close the doors safely behind me. Phew, that was easier than I thought it would be, now for phase two. Noting that one of the cubicles curtains are drawn I spurt out a quick apology. "Sorry about this, I just need to find something to wear. I can't go around flashing my ass at innocent bystanders, can I?"
Although that could help me with the difficult task of finding a ride, hitch hiking can be such a pain. "Bingo!" I dress quickly into a long sleeved hooded jacket and grey sweat pants that are embellished with the X-Men logo.
"You're rather quiet, you know. Were you hurt badly or something?" I creep over and peer through the curtain. "Don't worry, I've found some clothes and..."
Oh, its something alright. I step through the curtains and approach the bed. "Uh, hello?" I whisper faintly, my voice trembling.
I lift the sheet with a curious and quivering hand and brace myself for the unthinkable. Someone's underneath there and they aren't moving. "Holy fucking shit!" I howl, jumping back as my eyes rest on my discovery. "He... He can't be. You can't be, can you?"
I scold myself for being so... Why am I scolding myself? This can't be happening, it can't be. Walking gradually closer, I place a hand on his ashen skin and wait. Wait for him to wake but he won't be. I know he won't be, he's cold. He's as cold as ice.
"Bobby?" I whimper. "Is this a joke? No, it can't be, you don't have a sense of humour, do you?" I throw my hands over my mouth and wince at my choice of words. I'm insulting my ex-boyfriend, my seemingly dead ex-boyfriend. "Sorry…"
Oh my fucking God, Bobby died. Look at him, he's really dead. We'll never exchange insults again because he's dead. I'll never be able to gaze into those beautiful baby blue eyes when I tell him he has a small penis and he was useless in bed.
Bobby's dead. Bobby has died. Bobby isn't breathing anymore.
Why the fuck didn't someone tell me Bobby had died?