Rubbing my eyes to correct my blurred vision, I sat up on the uncomfortable, thinly cushioned metal bed in the infirmary ward of the lab. The lights were dim and giving off a loud buzzing noise. There was no one else but me around, not even Dr. McCoy. The digital clock on the wall read five-fifteen. The med lab was eerily quiet. It had to have been the morning. I didn’t think I could’ve been out for more than fourteen hours because, aside from a bit of wooziness, I felt fine.
I slid my legs over the side of the bed. The sterile floor was cold under my bare feet. To keep from shivering, I closed the long, thick wool robe that I found had been placed over my bathing suit. If Rett and Bobby weren’t here that meant they were okay, I deduced, and that was good news if I’d ever heard it. But where was Bobby? Where was Logan? I had been kicked out of the med lab the few times I’d had cause to visit him, but surely he could get them to let him stay. If he wanted.
I caught sight of a pair of long, black gloves, which were laid out on the table next to me. That was a message, loud and clear. My guilty conscience curdled in my stomach. I’d practically killed two people in one fell swoop, all in the name of getting a tan. And one of them had been just a kid. The only reason Rett had walked away was because he’d taken my power with him. I wished he’d just taken it altogether. I welcomed him to it. It was a useless mutation, anyway. Nothing good could ever come of it.
“Stupid goddamned gloves,” I gritted through my teeth, pulling them on without finesse. My middle and index fingers were jammed together. I felt like growling.
Logan had touched me, I realized. Though the impatience was mine, I recognized the extreme reactions as his. When had he touched me? I must have been when I was unconscious. Maybe he’d put the robe on me. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. There was an impression of him there, stronger than it had been before. Alarm, sorrow, guilt, anger…It was nice to have him back in the forefront of my mind, but I hardly ever got any good emotions from people. It was overwhelming at first, but all I usually remembered was just what they were feeling when they touched me, a little of what they were thinking, and sometimes vague snapshots of memories.
Logan had been mad at me for being reckless, that much was clear. His anger was tempered by concern for my well-being. I allowed myself a moment to bask in the peculiar consolation his specter-like presence gave to me. Literally feeling the emotions of another human being is probably one of the most intimate contacts two people can have, yet it’s not as fulfilling as you would think. There’s power in the physical. Knowing he cared was one thing; having him there when I woke up was quite another. It was childish, but I needed a hug.
Subdued, I left the med lab and went out into the steel-encased hallway. I quickly got inside the elevator, impatient to escape from the cold, impersonal walls. Upstairs was warmth and wood and, as Bobby had said, home.
Tying the robe around me securely, I stepped out of the too-bright elevator and went in search of the only person whom I knew would be awake. I found him on the couch in the living room, listlessly watching a documentary on lemurs.
He must have felt me standing hesitantly in the doorframe because he commented, “Their mating call sounds like they’re saying, ‘She-fuck, she fuck!’”
“Jones,” I choked out. I’d never heard him swear before.
“I’m not as innocent as everybody thinks,” he informed me, switching stations with a blink of his eyes.
“If you say so,” I replied, taking a seat on the far end of the couch.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked in his calm, level tone.
I shrugged, not surprised he’d heard about what had happened. Jones always knew the gossip. It was partially because he never slept and partially because he was so quiet that people tended to forget he was around. “What’s the damage?” I asked him.
“Flea’s mad that he’s getting in trouble, so he’s telling everyone that you went crazy and tried to kill Bobby and Rett. But only the really stupid people believe him. So most of the school thinks you’re psycho.”
I snorted. Jones sure knew the appropriate way to deliver bad news.
“I overheard Bobby talking to Hellion – that’s what they’re calling Julian Keller now, you know, since he rearranged Cyclops’s classroom on the ceiling a couple days ago. Anyway, Bobby’s really worried. He heard Professor Xavier say he wanted to talk to you first thing when you woke up. Have you talked to him yet? He gets up pretty early.”
I shook my head. “You think he’s mad?”
Professor Xavier, he with his telepathic abilities, chose that moment to wheel into the doorway. The touch of a smile that was on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not mad. Just disappointed. Nothing for you to runaway over. Come along, Rogue,” he said, backing out. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
Jones and I exchanged nervous looks. “Good luck,” he mouthed.
Stomach curdling again, I followed Professor Xavier to his office. He had me close the door behind us and take a seat opposite his desk. I arranged the robe to cover me completely, wishing I’d taken the time to change. I kept my eyes on the wooden floorboards, hoping he could see from my thoughts that I really was sorry.
He sighed. I heard the creak of his chair as he leaned back. “Yes, I know you’re sorry. I’m not going to punish you for yesterday’s…incident. However, I am still very disappointed in you. I would’ve expected you to have exercised more caution. You’re an intelligent young woman, Rogue. You shouldn’t have been so careless.”
I hunched forward in my seat, willing myself not to cry. I’d been disappointing people my whole life. My parents, Bobby. Myself.
Professor Xavier heaved another sigh. “Perhaps it’s my fault.”
I winced. For admitting me in the school, for trusting me to have good judgment, for letting someone as immature as me into the X-Men – there were so many ways he could go with that one.
“For expecting too much of you,” he amended softly. “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment or that I think you’re immature. You’ve done remarkably well considering your particular mutation. I suppose it’s unfair to begrudge you for wanting a day of normalcy, especially since I can see that you harbor so little hope. You’ve been at my school for months now, and I’ve offered you none. For that, I am sorry.”
“But I…” I cut in, confused. “Storm – Ms. Munroe – She said that it didn’t work like that, that you couldn’t cure me.”
Turning toward the window, he replied, “No, not cure. The idea that mutation is a disease to be gotten rid of is an idea that we must fight if we are ever going to be able to take our place as equal citizens of this world. Society isolates people with diseases, especially ones believed to be contagious.”
“Like AIDS victims in China,” I said, remembering the parallel brought up in current history last week.
“Yes. And even here in the United States, though it isn’t as blatant.” He turned his head back around, addressing me gravely. “I cannot cure you, Rogue, but what I can do to teach you to use your gift. In time, you might be able to control how much energy you take in and be able to let go at will.”
“You mean stop it completely? So I could touch people?”
Professor Xavier hesitated. “Aside from general and pressing health concerns, like regulating medication, I do not typically allow research to be done on my students. I feel that it is neither necessary nor beneficial to them to be made to feel like laboratory mice. However, Dr. McCoy convinced me to make an exception in your case. I hope you can forgive me.”
I nodded eagerly. Stick me in a maze and call me Squeakers; I’d have done anything to be free.
Again, he hesitated before continuing. “Whilst you were unconscious, I had Dr. McCoy take a generous skin sample from you. It was quite remarkable, what he found. You have two sets of pores. The standard type, of course, and a much smaller, much more numerous set directly on your epidermis. It is through those pores that you extract the life essence of the people you touch.”
“Is it possible to close them?”
“I’m afraid they’re always open and likely always will be. Your control will come, in time, with your ability to draw power in slower increments.”
“There has to be something that can close those pores,” I argued a little desperately. “A…I don’t know, maybe a lotion. I know it probably couldn’t be permanent, but it’d be something. Like Mr. Summers’ glasses. They’ve got be annoying to wear, but at least he can see people with them. I wouldn’t mind having to put on lotion all the time. I do it twice a day anyway.”
“Rogue, I understand what you want, and I want very badly to give it to you, but there is no magic lotion. The ruby quartz of Scott’s glasses was an once-in-a-lifetime find, which was, I have to admit, mostly pure luck. That isn’t to say that Dr. McCoy won’t continue to work with your skin samples – he is very interested in your gift – but he does have other matters to see to as well. As for learning control, it will be incorporated into your X-Man training, if you see fit for it to continue. It isn’t my intention to rob you of your youth. If you’d prefer to wait a few more years before dedicating yourself to the team completely, I’d be glad to store your uniform for you in the interim.”
But what else did I have now besides the X-Men?
“Training tomorrow same time as usual?” I asked, since today was Sunday.
Professor Xavier smiled a little, and it did reach is eyes. “Come here after your regular training with Logan in the Danger Room, and we’ll discuss your experiences with your power.”
“Yes, sir,” I agreed, standing.
“Oh, and Rogue?” he said just as I opened the door. “Don’t let me catch you wearing that bathing suit again. Despite what some of your classmates seem to think, we do have a dress code here.”
I flushed. “Right, Professor. I’ll go change.”
“Not too much,” he said softly, picking up my earlier train of thought, which led him to yesterday’s incident. “You are an asset to this school and to the X-Men. Don’t ever think otherwise.” There was worry in his expression. He probably thought I was suicidal. I wasn’t really. Sometimes it was just easier to wallow. “I have faith in you, Rogue. You’re going to be just fine.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
I couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. How was I an asset? I hadn’t done anything. Well, I did stop John and pilot the Blackbird – God that was a horrible experience – but I hadn’t done anything otherwise. Bobby could have done either of those things had I not been there. Bobby could do a lot of things if I wasn’t there, come to that.
That thought ate away at me as I made my way down the silent corridors to my new room, infinitely grateful that it was mine and I didn’t have to share it with four roommates. I collapsed backwards on the bed and stared up at the ceiling morosely. I had learned my lesson about wallowing, so I decided to brood – which is, as everyone knows, exactly the same thing, only brooding is for adults. Logan did it all the time.
So, the Professor wanted to help me control my powers so that I could be a more effective weapon. Well, if that didn’t murder any hope for normalcy left in me, I didn’t know what would. It was going to take time, he’d said, and I wasn’t going to get the one thing I wanted out of it. Moreover, I didn’t even think it would really work. All of us students had to take classes on controlling our powers. While Jubilee had been juggling sparklers and Bobby had been crafting elaborate ice sculptures, I’d been given a bunch of tapes that were supposedly to get me centered. They didn’t help by any means, though at least I’d looked like I was participating instead of being left out.
People at the school sometimes went out of their way to make me feel included, even though it would’ve been easier just to ignore me. Professor Xavier was doing more of the same. Not that I wasn’t grateful, on at least some level. One that was squished flat between exasperation and despair.
I decided then that, while I would go along with whatever Professor Xavier wanted me to do because I owed him, I would do it without emotion or hope. I just wanted my powers to be left alone. I didn’t want the responsibility of living up to anyone’s expectations anymore. I was untouchable girl. It was time I started acting like it.