So here she sat, biting at her lower lip in concern, wondering if she'd ever get this over with. She'd finally gotten to the front of the line in New York where they'd grilled her for her name and information.
She'd answered all their questions sweetly and innocently, without complaint and with a full-on southern girl Mississippi accent. She'd lied through her Goddamned teeth.
They'd given her a pin-prick blood test, as a precursor to the injection. She'd watched as the nurse's brows came down and looked at the color results more closely. She'd asked Rogue to hold on one second and then scurried away.
She came back a minute or so later with a doctor, who now held the results. Rogue raised her brows in curiosity, eyes peeking at the bluish color on the stick. The ridiculous looking thing looked like a pregnancy test. The irony prompted Rogue to snort a laugh and then quickly cover her mouth when the nurse looked at her in confusion.
The doctor picked up the clipboard sitting on the table next to the make-shift bed and scribbled some notes before proceeding.
“Miss...Clarence, is it? Yes. You may have noticed that we give these quick blood tests to all persons wishing to seek treatment.”
Rogue nodded.
“Well, they do, in fact, serve a purpose. You see, different levels of mutation occur in each individual. We distinguish them in classes, one through five. Ninety-five percent of the mutant population is Class Three or under and requires a certain dosage. Unfortunately, you are not within this category.”
The world had shifted around her and it had took a moment for her to breathe again. “I'm sorry. I don't quite understand. I'm not a Class Three or under?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. You're not. You qualify as a Class Four. A very strong Class Four." Rogue once again found it difficult to breathe. Class Four?
“Class Four?” The words caught in her throat and cracked a bit on delivery.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “That's not possible. Class Four mutants are...” Her hands waved around clumsily. “I'm not that powerful.”
“According to the blood tests you are,” he pressed. “We wouldn't bring it up except it requires a much more concentrated dose. It's unstable in long distance travel so they're only distributing it at headquarters in San Francisco. You'll have to be transferred there.”
She felt herself exhale loudly. “How do I...?”
The nurse spoke up as the doctor walked away.
“Oh, don't you worry honey. They're providing air transport for any of these cases. It will all be over soon.”
She patted Rogue’s folded gloved hands and walked off. Rogue was left with a chill of fear. She'd been under the impression she was a Class Two, no higher. The professor had mentioned she hadn't yet reached her potential, but...a Class Four?
She swallowed around her dry tongue. She only knew of a handful of Class Fours. Magneto qualified, and the Professor...and John and Bobby were both on the low end of Class Four apparently. Logan and Scott had only been Class Threes.
Jean...was the only Five she'd ever heard of, and that information had just recently surfaced. But she, little Rogue from south Mississippi, terrified of her own skin, a strong Class Four? She felt a certain amount of pride well-up. No wonder she'd had a sick fascination with 'borrowing' the powers of others. It was probably giving her a high no amount of recreational drug-use could have pulled-off.
Her brows shot up the slightest amount as she breathed out one of Logan's infamous crowd-stoppers. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ...”
They flew her to San Francisco's old Alcatraz Island faster than she would have thought. It made her nervous to think they would spend the money for a private plane. Admittedly, she wasn't the only one headed in that direction, but really, it was a lot of money for a publicly-funded cure.
When they finally answered her questions, it only irritated her more. They wanted to use her case for the FDA -- to strengthen their brand name and try to pass European Union standards. She even signed a consent form for her medical visit to be used in research. She wasn't planning to mention her real name wasn't Debra.
Before she knew it, she found herself deep in the inner walls of Worthington Lab’s headquarters. They stuck her with an IV and ran a general physical exam. She growled more than she would have liked. The Logan in her was extremely uncomfortable with so much poking and prodding.
The idea she was being used for experimentation actually made her indignant. She was pretty sure Erik's haughtiness had creeped out then.
The dark-haired doctor, with her own accent, gave gentle words of encouragement. “With this level of serum, you're probably going to feel unwell at first. Give it time.”
Rogue watched, starting to breathe more heavily, as the nurse tied the knot in the rubber around her upper arm. “How long before it works?”
The gentle-looking doctor smiled softly up at her as she prepared the injection. “It should work within moments.” With that she brought the syringe down to Rogue's arm. “Are you ready?”
She couldn't make herself breathe, let alone speak, so she settled for a simple curt nod. The sting of the needle as it pierced her pale skin helped focus her energy. Her nerves were on edge. She closed her eyes and waited.
It felt cold and thick. It seeped into her arm and she felt her skin start to go numb. It crawled down to her fingertips and up past her shoulder, down her spine. Cold numbness. Until it started to burn.
She hissed through her teeth just as the doctor pulled out the empty needle. Every ounce that had been numbed started to turn to liquid fire. Her skin burned. She struggled to her feet and tried to rub at her arms, tried to smother out the flames that were licking at her skin. She ripped off her other glove and scarf trying to get rid of the fire. Two nurses tried to talk her down as she felt herself turn to ash.
Then, finally, the burn started to fade. It left her arm and her fingers, finally smoking out down her back and neck. She fell back on to the medical table shaking.
“I'm sorry...” she mumbled shakily.
The dark-haired doctor smiled. “It's quite all right. Like I said. It can be jarring.”
Rogue nodded and looked at her hands. She didn't look different but she wasn't expecting to. How would she know if it worked? Before she could finish her train of thought, a delicate hand fell on her forearm, gently stroking with its thumb.
Rogue blinked at the contact, unable to register the touch. The hand was cool and carried no roughness. Her skin crackled with the sensation. She could feel it reaching out, wanting to take in the life-force of the person brave enough to challenge it. But nothing happened.
Rogue moved her eyes up to the doctor, who in turn, smiled gently at her.
“Congratulations, my dear.”
Joy started to creep up Rogue's back, threatening to spill over in an embarrassing display of tears. She opened her mouth to thank her when the look in the doctor’s eyes changed. They grew gray and pained, as veins began to stick out along her face.
Before Rogue could pull away, thoughts came crashing in. I don't understand! Why does it hurt so? Please make her stop!
Rogue yanked back so hard she flopped over the back end of the table and crashed to the floor. The doctor fell to the floor in a dead faint.
***
Rogue pulled at the ends of her opera length gloves, tucking them further up under her sleeves as Mr. Worthington closed the door to his office. She didn't hold out much hope. Her skin, the only mutation to resist the cure.
She scrunched her nose in distaste. “Figures,” she mumbled.
In a world full of mutations, hers was the only one that hadn't responded the same as all the rest. “A rogue mutation,” the doctor had whispered to Mr. Worthington. Her only reaction was to raise a single eyebrow. They'd whispered about her for a good ten minutes, never thinking she could hear them.
Mutations she'd pulled from others faded quickly, within five or so minutes. But if she held on longer, she'd keep them longer. She'd been able to toy with metal for a good week after Erik had forced himself inside her head.
Logan, however, had held on so long and giving her so much that she still had residuals of his mutation, even after this long. She could hear much better than most, and her sense of smell had grown disturbingly. She couldn't handle foofy flowery smells any more, not that she even liked them to begin with. And while she couldn't pull off one of Logan's fantastic instant regeneration tricks, it took half the number of days for scrapes and cuts to disappear neatly from her skin. Scars begone!
She stood in the office trying to figure out a plan. Mr. Worthington hadn't known she was listening and had spilled the beans.
“Keep her here! Yes, yes. I know protocol, but it doesn't matter. If word gets out that the cure doesn't work on everyone, we'll have a PR nightmare from hell! Just...find a way to keep her here. If she won't stay willingly, use the soldiers.”
His hushed whispers had come out nervously agitated and upset. Rogue paled considerably.
Erik and Logan would have attacked then and there. They would have sent metal flying into Worthington’s stomach so fast, he wouldn't even have had time to blink. By flying metal furniture or slashing metal claws, it would have happened.
Rogue's instincts told her to fight -- fight hard and fight fast. But she'd been trained. She'd sat in class after class with Scott and Rogue, the Professor, even Logan. Each teaching their own strengths, their own knowledge. And even though the personalities in her head wanted her to lash out, Rogue did what Rogue would do.
She sat and pretended, biding her time. She nodded at the invitation to stay and do some tests, but asked if she could please call home and let them know she'd be taking a bit longer. She would stay as long as she needed too to get rid of the disease.
Mr. Worthington nodded, letting out a breath of relief. “Please, come use my office to notify your family.”
He closed the door behind her and walked away, going off to give instructions for a room to be set-up for her to stay in. She gave it ten seconds before she launched herself at the phone.
She picked up the receiver and punched in the mansion’s emergency number, cursing when the satin gloves got in the way and she was forced to redial. Her breath came in short pants, and her hands shook. She'd managed to stay calm in front of the camera, but she was slowly starting to fall apart.
She waited as the second ring ended and she heard the tell-tale signs of call-forwarding, the clicking and redirection in progress. She scrunched her nose. Why is it being forwarded? They only forward it when...
The line picked up and she could hear some sort of engine running in the background before 'Ro's familiar voice came through. “Yes?” Her voice was hard and professional, all business.
Rogue didn't wait to figure out what was going on. “Storm. It's Rogue. I'm in trouble.”
She could hear the pause of confusion and then a quick breath in as the words struck her.
“Rogue? What's wrong?” She was about to fill her in when she heard shuffling and voices in the background. She thought she heard someone swear before Storm argued, “Logan. I've got this. Let me...Logan!”
She heard the moving of the phone and a rough growl.
“Rogue!” His voice came out hard and tense. She smiled and breathed out in relief. Something about his voice always made her feel reassured, made her calmer.
“Logan. I might need a little help here.” She looked back towards the door trying to listen for any footsteps.
“What happened? You alright?”
She rushed with her words. “They don't want to let me leave. They were talking when they thought I wasn't listening and they want me to stay. They want to run some tests and...”shnike She heard the sound of his claws spring out and her eyebrows shot up.
“They fuckin' want to what?” It was a growl and it was so low and dangerous she decided to just spill it.
“Yeah. I kinda got myself into a pickle here. I'm not even in New York anymore.”
“Where the hell are you?” It came out roughly and she swallowed past the next words.
“San Francisco's headquarters. On Alcatraz Island.” She cringed and waited for the string of curse words she was sure would follow.
It didn't come. He was silent for a moment before he finally decided what to say. “We're already there, 20 minutes, tops.”
Her mouth fell open. “Huh?”
“You sure as shit have some timing, Rogue. Magneto's on his way there, too. He'll be there before us.” Her vision dulled and she had trouble breathing. “Listen, you keep under cover ‘til we get there. There's going to be a fight either way. I don't want you pulling any shit 'til we get there. Understand?” She nodded dumbly. “Rogue?”
She shook her head and finally focused. “Yeah. Understood.” Then, “Logan, I still have my mutation.” She heard him let out a breath. “I can help.”
He growled. “You're by yourself. I don't want you doing anything ‘til we get there. Stay low and...” He was cut off by an explosion coming from her side. She grabbed onto the desk and postured herself in a defensive stance. The walls shook and pieces of drywall cracked and fell to the floor around her.
“What the fuck was that?” he yelled into the phone.
She still held the phone, though slightly away from her ear. Still, his profanity came through loud and clear. She brought it back up to her face. “Um, I think he's here.”
“Shit.” He spoke to Storm for a moment before he came back on the line. “You stay low, you hear? We're coming.”
“Ok.” She looked up at the shaking ceiling. And then she heard gunshots. “Hurry up.”
“Ten minutes, max. Just...” The line went dead and rogue stared at the phone.
***
She stepped into the hallway and looked in either direction. After five minutes of gunfire and blasts, she couldn't stay in the room any longer. People were obviously in danger and she felt cowardly hiding out in this office. She reasoned if she could make it outside by the time the team made it there, she'd be able to help.
It was shockingly easy to walk the halls. Exit signs were posted as clearly as in any facility. There was no one in the hall to even bother her. She made it to the entrance of the building as the sounds outside became more and more violent. She heard the sound of jet engines and smiled.
She peeked around the corner to the main doorway, past the crowd of medical officers and soldiers. Outside, a line of soldiers, and on the far side, at least a hundred civilian dressed people...mutants. Her skin tingled and her breathing became more rapid. The gloves and scarf became bothersome. Her fingers itched to touch and take.
She'd been downright pissed when she'd realized the cure was completely useless against her. She wanted touch so badly. Now, it was time to cut her losses and move on.
They'd wanted to run tests, see if they could 'cure' her. And she was sure that anything they tried would only ever be temporary. Her skin crawled with the desire to touch and absorb. The idea that the cure could be strong enough was ridiculous. Her powers would just overwhelm it and take it in, use it up and move on. Why had she been so stupid as to think it would be any other way?
And now, standing here, seeing the smorgasbord of mutations in front of her, her mouth went dry. She wanted those mutations like she wanted water. She gave a small smile and let her tongue wet her lower lip. She wanted those powers.
She ripped at the gloves and threw them to the floor. Her scarf was tugged off and discarded. She pulled off her cloak and let it fall. She wore a sweater over a tank top and jeans. She'd need as much skin exposure as possible at first.
She had nothing to really work with. She'd have to grab and brush against a few of them before she'd be able to really become effective or she'd never get through that line of soldiers let alone fight any one mutant. Logan had been teaching her hand- to-hand combat, but she was still limited. She huffed out a sigh and then ripped the sweater off, leaving pale skin to glow against the black tank. It would just get in her way, anyhow. She wished that she had a band of some kind to get the hair off her face but she'd have to live with that.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and looked back around the corner. She saw, one by one, the X-men form a line. The soldiers backed off in confusion. She found her opening and sprinted past the crowd, squeezing under and between as many as she could avoiding skin contact with the humans.
There were some shouts of surprise. Someone must have recognized her because she heard the slur 'mutey' as she passed out the front door into the chilly air.
Logan must have heard it too because he turned his body so he could see behind him. His face was a hard mask of energy, a growl grinding its way through his bared teeth. His eyes focused on her as she sprinted past the soldiers who moved out of her way. She breathed heavily as she stopped in front of Logan.
“Miss me?” she asked through gasping breaths.
He looked at her attire and raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “Gonna be difficult to grab up some powers with only bare hands.”
He glanced back up at Magneto and asked, “You got enough control for it not to hurt you?”
She scoffed. “I'll be fine. A few grazes and I'll have what I need.”
He nodded and looked around him.
“Shit.” he growled. He reached out and grabbed her behind the head and pulled her in. His gloved hands protected him from her skin and she could feel the sing of metal next to her ear.
He kissed her forehead, leaving contact for a few seconds. She felt his senses rush in first. The smell of burning metal and ash. Men's sweat and blood. Her hearing spiked and she could hear even the sound of feet scuffing the ground. Then the healing came crashing in and her skin wrapped around it, keeping a hold of the way it pulsed through her veins.
He pulled away, heaving. She felt her own breath rushing out quicker. She smiled at him. “Thanks.” He'd given her the first hit. Given her something to work off of.
He nodded and faced back towards the crowd.
“Just don't get killed.”
She snorted and faced the crowd of mutants. Her skin crackled with electricity and want. So many mutations, so little time.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
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Chapter End Notes:
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