“Ugh..”
There was a low hum in the atmosphere like a distant machine. Rogue turned her head, yet to open her eyes to assess the environment. Cautiously, slowly she allowed her eyelids to peel back. Smooth metallic walls surrounded her, tipped by long strips of white lighting. Her head felt distinctly fuzzy, like she was reeling from the after-effects of running full pelt into a brick wall. She made a quiet groan, lifting a hand to hold against her forehead, trying to clear the murky throb. Upon moving, several spasms of pain shot through her body all at once and summoned a louder, pained cry.
The sound of quick footsteps hurried besides her, and Rogue peered up blearily as a face swam into view above her. “Rogue?” came a gentle voice. Blinking slowly, Rogue was able to focus her vision on the redhead who hovered over her. She did not instantly answer. It was taking a lot of effort to put a name to the woman’s face.
Eventually, very carefully, “Jean?”
The woman smiled broadly at the response, reaching out and placing a gloved hand over Rogue’s nearest arm. “Yes. How are you feeling?”
“Wrecked,” she answered in complete honesty. “What happened?”
She saw Jean’s smile fade a little, her fingers squeezing a little through the rubber texture of her gloves. “Do you not recall anything?”
Rogue frowned a little at her, before she slowly pulled her eyes away. Information was trickling in slowly. She had only just remembered Jean’s name. She was beginning to recognise her surroundings as the infirmary of the mansion. Memories were barely there. They were distant, but just within reach if she tried hard enough. The concentration needed for this simple task was overwhelming.
At Rogue’s prolonged silence, Jean spoke up softly, seeming perturbed. “Charles tried his best,” she said, as though trying to convince herself as much as she was Rogue. “It’s a delicate process. Fortunately, Stryker hadn’t been unable to administer the full dosage required to fully strip your sense of self. Not only that, you’re only eighteen years old, it’s a lot less to fix than someone considerably older than you..”
As Jean spoke, Rogue laid listening, witnessing according flashbacks at the mentions of Charles and Stryker. Brief, split-seconds images of the events at Alkali Lake were now flashing through her mind at sudden intervals. Jean’s slowly permeating words seemed to grow sharp edges and suddenly stab into her consciousness. “What?” said Rogue quickly, her eyes whirling upon Jean. “Where’s Logan?” she added hurriedly. She proceeded to throw back the covers despite her body’s injuries. She winced, but tried to valiantly stand before Jean took her by her shoulders and forced her to sit back down.
“Rogue, you cannot go rushing around. You’re seriously injured.”
“But Logan! Stryker shot him, Stryker killed him! Did he survive? I can’t remember!” she was getting quickly worked up, her eyes darting about fearfully as she tried her hardest to piece together her scattered memory.
“He’s alive,” said Jean, keeping her hands upon Rogue’s shoulders. “But Stryker..” she drifted off, groping for words to try and finish her sentence.
Her pause was left too long and Rogue proceeded to try and stand once more. “I need to see him, Jean. I need to know.” She was given a small once over by Jean’s eyes before the woman sighed and retreated to fetch a pair of metal crutches for Rogue. She took them with a bemused expression, “Why do I.. ?”
“He fractured your leg.”
“Who did?”
“Logan.”
There was a silence in which Rogue took the crutches without speaking, carefully lifting herself to her feet. If the pain in her leg wasn’t bad enough, then the numerable cuts and bruises most certainly were.
“Are you alright?” asked Jean cautiously; watching as Rogue adjusted herself, trying to keep her winces minimal.
Rogue made a firm, mute nod and proceeded to carefully carry herself across the infirmary with Jean by her side. “Where is he?” muttered Rogue softly as she moved ahead with slow strides of the crutches.
“Charles is keeping him in isolation currently, under surveillance. Alkali Lake has.. changed him.” Rogue’s face hardened at these words, but she proceeded walking valiantly. “And we can’t take any chances and endanger ourselves. Logan is trying hard to resume to his normal state of mind, and he and the Professor are making progress, but please be aware that this will be a delicate and time-consuming process.”
Rogue said nothing, but continued to limp ahead, hands gripping upon the rubber handles of her crutches tightly. Jean bowed her head gently at the lack of a response, and instead proceeded to silently guide the younger woman towards where Logan now resided. Together, they exited the infirmary, passing through the smooth silver-walled corridor to enter the laboratory. Within, Charles was sat at the arrangement of computers in apparent thought. At the sound of their entry, he looked round, welcoming them with a gracious smile. “It is good to see you up and about, Rogue.”
But Rogue wasn’t looking at the Professor, despite being addressed. She was staring towards the wall on their left, in which sat a closed door and a glass window. There was a small room within where Logan lay on one of the infirmary beds, asleep and attached to beeping monitors. His unmoving form was partially propped up on the head of the bed, clean blankets up to his midsection, but not enough to hide the clear wires that stuck to his chest and face. “Logan..” she muttered weakly, using the crutches to ease herself closer to the glass.
Charles turned his chair towards her slowly, rolling forward until he stopped by her side. “He’s a fighter,” he said softly, “He won’t give up easily.” At this point, Jean bowed her head gently and retreated to leave the pair to their much-needed discussion. Rogue continued to stare through the glass at Logan; unable to stop her eyes from stinging as they teared up. She gave a quiet sniff, glancing downward as the droplets broke free from her eyelids and began their trail down her pallid face.
“Jean said Alkali Lake had changed him..”
“What she told you is correct. You may or may not be able to recall the exact events at Alkali Lake, nor may you even be able to remember the changes you went through yourself. But Logan’s mental defences have been severely weakened from Stryker’s intrusion. It’s becoming more and more difficult to keep his subconscious, Wolverine, out of control and therein lays the danger.”
Rogue rested her forehead on the glass, tears continuing to trickle down her cheeks as she spoke in a low whisper, her breath misting the glass. “He looks peaceful to me..”
“That’s because I’m keeping him that way,” said Charles solemnly. “When he next wakes, we do not know if Logan will be in control, or Wolverine; ever raging for domination. I’m trying to restore the physic blocks, and cage the beast again.”
“You helped me,” said Rogue softly, closing her eyes. “You saved me. Why can’t you do the same for him?”
“As Jean said, you’re eighteen years old, Rogue. That’s a small amount to repair and contain. Logan’s age could even exceed my own, and his amnesia does not make the restoration any easier. His mind is fragmented and torn, portions are lost. It is increasingly hard to put together a puzzle when so many pieces are missing. Your mind, fortunately, remained whole, just scattered.” Charles looked towards Logan slowly, going silent for a short moment before he spoke again. “Rogue, you already have my promise that I will do all in my power to help Logan. His stats are improving, but it may be a while before Logan is back to the man he once was, with his existing memories intact. An element of patience is required in this situation, my dear, as well as your support. Logan needs you now more than ever.”
“He’s got me,” sobbed Rogue, closing her eyes as tears rolled free. “He’s got me..” She lifted a hand from, one of the crutches in a bid to wipe her cheeks dry. Glancing up, she saw Logan stir a little in his sleep. “When will he wake up?”
Charles watched Logan for a short while longer before he lifted to head to look at Rogue. “The more sleep he has the better. His mind has a lot to repair and can do so much more efficiently when his consciousness and subconscious can mould in and out of each other safely.”
“Can I keep comin’ to see him?”
“Of course you can, but for now, your own health needs to be your utmost concern. You suffered many injuries at Alkali Lake, and I don’t think Jean would be best pleased if her hard work was wasted.”
Rogue managed a watery smile towards Charles, nodding her head in understanding. “Thank you Professor, for everythin’.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, returning the nod as he watched the young woman turn and slowly navigate out of the laboratory with the use of her crutches. He was right, Rogue needed to consider herself now. It was a time to be selfish. But even so, she couldn’t keep her concerns off of Logan; despite the fact he had delivered the injuries that adorned her weakened body. But Rogue was not about to break her promise, Logan needed her as he had before, and there would be nothing that would stop her. Nothing at all.
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