Rogue entered the med lab to find Hank waiting for her at one of the examination tables. She gave him a small smile and gingerly climbed on when he told her to. Her stomach was feeling a bit better after her shower, but there was no point in jarring it unnecessarily.
“Now, Rogue, what symptoms are you experiencing? Please be as exact as possible,” Hank said as he pulled out the blood pressure cuff and indicated that she should roll up her sleeve.
“Ah slept in this morning. Ah know it sounds a little silly, but Ah'm a morning person, really, and the only times Ah ever sleep in are when Ah'm sick. Ah woke up pretty groggy, and my stomach...Ah think I caught a bug or something,” Rogue said as she complied.
“Hmmm...” Hank murmured as the cuff did its work. “Well, your heart rate is up slightly, but that could just be stress from your body working overtime to build up antibodies. Let's check you for fever next.”
The cuff was removed, and then Hank handed her a digital thermometer. Rogue stuck it under her tongue obediently, and they waited for the tell-tale beep. Hank took the plastic stick and read the little LCD screen.
“No fever, which is good. Have you been coughing? Is your throat sore?” Rogue wasn't sure what to make of the cautious expression that came over Hank's face when she shook her head. The furry blue man turned, fiddled with some things on the tray next to the table before finally reaching out to grab an over-sized Q-tip.
“I guess we will have to do a tissue culture since we cannot draw your blood,” he said doubtfully.
Rogue raised her eyebrows. “What's wrong, Hank? Ah know it sucks trying to diagnose me when you can't even take my blood, but...” she trailed off in confusion as his cheeks turned a light shade of purple. Purple?
“Ah, well, Rogue, that is, I am not sure that you have a virus at all. Perhaps food poisoning?” Hank's tone was hopeful, which really worried Rogue.
“Not unless half the school has it, too. Ah ate here last night,” Rogue told him. “Really, Hank, what's wrong?”
Hank took a deep breath. “As your doctor, I suppose that I have some right to ask these questions, but I have found that there are some instances when the friendships we have developed here make this aspect of my job rather...more embarrassing than I am used to,” he confessed. At Rogue's confused look he continued hesitantly, “Rogue, when was the last time you had your period?”
Rogue wanted to laugh. She knew why that question was normally asked. There was no way. “Hank, Ah'm on the Pill. This is just a stomach bug. Ah'll be fine in a few days,” she said, rolling her eyes at him.
Hank gave her a serious look in return. “The Pill is only ninety-eight percent effective, my dear. There have also been some studies which suggest that the effectiveness in mutant women might only be ninety-five percent. That's not conclusive, of course, but...” Hank found that he couldn't continue while still looking into Rogue's wide brown eyes, so he glanced away as he asked again, “When was the last time you had your period?”
Rogue tried to keep her voice light. “Ah had it last week, silly. It was a little lighter than usual, but it was definitely there.”
“How light?”
“Hank!” Rogue really did not want to discuss this with him.
“How light, Rogue?”
“Dammit, Hank! One day, okay? It lasted one day. Usually it's three or four. Ah figured it was just my body adjusting to the new mutation and stress and all that stuff. That can affect it, too,” Rogue said defensively. She did not want to be having this discussion. She did not.
Hank lowered his voice. “You can still have your period a month or two into a pregnancy, Rogue, especially if you are on the Pill. Please let me test you,” he pleaded even as he saw her jaw firm up.
“No, Hank. Ah am going to go back to my room and nurse this stomach bug now, and we are not going to discuss this again,” Rogue said, jumping off of the table and forgetting her fading nausea. Hank watched her leave with a worried frown.
Rogue did spend that day in her room, but the nausea was soon gone. She raided her stash of snacks for lunch and then again for dinner. When she heard a knock at her door and Scott's voice calling, “Marie?” she buried her head in her pillow and prayed for sleep. Miraculously, sleep came almost instantly.
Waking up the next morning, Rogue looked drowsily at the clock then shot up in surprise when it read 11:02. The bright sun shining through her window told her that it wasn't close to midnight. She moaned and shook her head, especially when she felt her stomach lurch. Barely making it to the toilet, she watched her “dinner” from the night before disappear with the swirling waters. The nausea was almost gone when she finally made herself shower, dress, and head down to the dining room. She convinced herself that the bug she had caught was just affecting her appetite when nothing smelled particularly appealing. So she grabbed a pre-made turkey sandwich and some water before settling herself grumpily into a chair. Two bites into the sandwich told her that it wasn't going to work, so she downed the water and stomped out of the dining room, thankful that there were only a few students still in there. Rogue made it back to her room without seeing anyone and feel back into bed. She stared at the ceiling for a while before pulling herself back up and going to her desk. A few minutes and her computer was up and running. She settled down to do some serious searching. Dinner was put off until the last possible minute and consisted of a few bites of cold chicken and vegetables that tasted like rubber.
Monday morning might have brought a repeat of the same if it hadn't been for her alarm clock. Still, the damn thing received four snooze smacks instead of the usual one, and the nausea was bothering Rogue again as she got ready, although thankfully she didn't actually vomit. Dressed in her usual teaching attire, khaki slacks, nice blouse and with her hair pulled back, Rogue decided to try breakfast.
Scott was in the dining room when she entered, so she really couldn't step right back out the way she wanted to. The smells of pancakes and sausage and bacon and eggs all combined to turn her stomach into what felt like a whirlpool. Rogue grabbed toast, an apple and some juice before heading over to the X-Table. 'Ro was there, too, and Rogue smiled tiredly at her friends as she sat down.
“Are you okay, Rogue? We didn't see you all weekend,” 'Ro said. “Scott was forced to hang out with me and Hank!” The weather witch smiled, but concern shadowed her eyes.
“Ah'm fine,” Rogue replied a little gruffly as she nibbled on her toast. Nibbles were good. Big bites probably not so much. “Ah caught something at the end of the week, that's all. Ah'll be right as rain in a day or two, Ah'm sure.”
Scott looked at her closely. “Did you sleep in again this morning?” he asked her quietly.
Rogue blushed. “Yeah, but Ah'm fine. Ah always sleep a lot when Ah'm sick. It's no big deal,” she practically snapped. Feeling guilty for the way his mouth tightened, she laid a hand over his. “Ah'm sorry. Ah get crabby, too. Don't know if the students are gonna make it through the day in one piece,” she tried to joke. He smiled, and she was taking her hand away when she looked up and saw Logan entering the room. He glared toward their table and then went to get some food.
Forgetting her delicate stomach, Rogue polished down the rest of her food in record time, something that she came to regret as she was leaving with Scott. Excusing herself in a tight voice, Rogue barely managed to make it to the closest downstairs bathroom before her breakfast abruptly left her. Head hanging over the toilet, Rogue vowed that this meant nothing. Not one thing! She quickly repaired her make-up in the mirror as best she could then headed to her first class of the morning. The nausea was almost gone by the end of the class, and she pushed the nagging little question from her mind.
Combat training was usually strangely soothing to her, and that day's class began just as many others had. She taught only the older students since she actually had less patience than the School's other instructor, the one whose name she tried not to think about. The class itself actually lasted two hours, so by the end of it they were all usually at least a little winded. Her students were getting pretty good, too. Rogue was proudest of Nate, a seventeen-year-old whose combat abilities were similar to what hers had been before she absorbed Carol. She usually reserved individual sparring time with him for the end of class since their bouts could get pretty intense. Sometimes she would use her strength against him, to show him what it was like to face an opponent like her and force him to think of creative ways to take her down. Other times, like this one, she held back so that she was about the equivalent of him, simply repeating the patterns of movements that felt second nature to her now and soon would for him.
The kick to her chest was unexpected but not against the normal sparring rules for them. The surprise came from how much it hurt. Rogue gasped and stopped, hand up, which was the sign for Nate to back down. She folded her arms so that she wouldn't be cradling one of her boobs in front of her students, then she gruffly told them that class was over for the day. As the students filed out, the normally boisterous group was quiet. No one could figure out what was wrong with Ms. Rogue, who never ever ended class early.
Rogue stood staring at the wall of mirrors in the training room for a few minutes, not allowing herself to meet her own eyes. Instead, she stared at her stomach. She stared hard, begging silently for this to go away, to not be happening. Finally beyond pissed off at herself, she slammed out of the gym and up to her room, hoping that a hot shower would help settle her nerves. It didn't, so she was wound tighter than she could remember for a long time when she sought out Hank in the med lab an hour later, dressed in jeans and a ratty old T-shirt, her hair still dripping. Brown eyes wide with panic, she uttered only four words.
“Do your damn test.”
Logan hadn't seen Rogue all weekend, but that was nothing unusual. The avoidance games they had been playing might have been close to driving him crazy, but the ironic part was they were probably also the only thing keeping him sane. He hated smelling Scott on her when they happened to pass in the hall or he caught a whiff of scent from her room, although that was occurring with less frequency. He was almost to the point where he was allowing himself to hope that it was all just a fling for them, something to make themselves feel better about the betrayal they'd suffered through. That didn't make his mood any better, but at least it was something to think about besides the smell of sex or the anger he saw in her eyes the few times in the past two months that he had managed to catch her gaze.
Monday morning Logan entered the dining room ahead of Jean to find Rogue, Scott and 'Ro still seated at the table. He couldn't help but notice that Rogue looked particularly tired even as he glared at them. All three were gone when he reached the table. He ate quickly, irritable in Jean's silent presence as always. Something was bothering him about the lingering traces of Rogue's scent. Perhaps that was why he followed it to the bathroom down the hall when he left. He stood there in the doorway and knew, without a doubt, that she had spent time in here puking. Logan told himself that she must have caught the bug going around the School. He even almost convinced himself.
When the Wolverine was a little harsher than normal during class, his students just chalked it up to something pissing him off. It happened sometimes, they knew, so they just accepted their lot for the next hour as beings of extreme suffering then left happily for their next class. Lunchtime passed in a blur as Logan tried to think of anything except Rogue. Finally admitting defeat, he decided to indulge in his favorite afternoon pastime.
It wasn't that he was voyeuristic or anything. Sometimes he told himself that he was just sizing up his opponent, memorizing her moves in case one of them pissed the other off bad enough to start a fight sometime. Occasionally he would even play out scenarios in his head, although he tried to avoid that because in his head sex usually followed the fight, and he tried to avoid thinking about Rogue and sex during the day.
So Logan was watching through the window in the metal door when Rogue was kicked in the chest by her best student, watching when she just froze and then dismissed the class. He pulled back into the shadows and thought about that flash of pain he had noticed in her eyes. Maybe no one else would have, but he did. Rogue's eyes in pain were forever branded in his mind, although this pain had been different somehow. He decided that the best thing to do would be to go somewhere, anywhere she wasn't because there was a thought tickling his brain, one he did not want to fully form.
Logan was wandering the sub-levels aimlessly when he heard her voice echoing down the hall from the med lab.
“Do your damn test.”
The anger and pain and panic in her voice was answer enough. Logan had to fight the howl that gathered in his throat. It looked like another trip to the Danger Room was in order.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I think I will blame Corinne for this. Not that the idea wasn't already floating around there. I was trying to resist. It was difficult, but I was managing. Then one little review and BAM.
Chapter End Notes:
Yeah, you have permission to stone me. I deserve it.