One, two, three, four.
Four bright lights shining above my head. They are my focus, my anchor in the relentless, torrential river of my own memories.
If their memories had behaved as my memories now are, I would have been so frightened that I would've begged the Professor for help much earlier on.
Much earlier.
* * * * * * * * *
My second battle was easier than the first. Strange, isn't that? In a fair world, I could have progressed in steps from slightly difficult to very dangerous. Of course, no one ever said it's a fair world, did they?
We were sent to rescue a group of six newly-emerged mutants from a mob which was chasing them through the streets of Chicago. The last of the scared, confused adolescents was boarding the Blackbird with Jean and Storm guiding them while I stood outside for defense just in case, when three members of the Brotherhood showed up at a run. I guess they figured they'd try and recruit a few young, impressionable mutants who wouldn't know how evil their intentions were. Too bad they were late and that this time they were the ones who were outnumbered.
We weren't looking for a fight with the Brotherhood just then. It was pretty damn inconvenient, if you ask me, for them to show up when we were in the middle of a rescue mission with a mob probably only minutes from finding out our location. So, I did the only thing I could to do at the moment, up against the three of them by myself.
The man who was obviously their group's leader came at me fast. I stripped off my glove and ran to meet him. I vaguely remember hearing Jean yell for me to stop, but I couldn't. My blood was pounding, and I could almost feel my skin itching in anticipation of what I knew I was about to do.
He swung at me with a large fist that resembled a rock. I grinned, ducked, and reached up to touch his bare face with my bare right hand.
I held on only long enough to watch his eyes roll back into his head. Pulling away wasn't too difficult, actually. What he was, his mind and what could be called his soul, repulsed me. I stood there breathing heavily as he crashed to the ground. My hands began to grow and harden, and I glared at his "friends" and sneered. They ran.
Okay, so maybe I looked strange swaggering into the Blackbird with fists twice the size which they normally were. Maybe my eyes were bright yellow instead of the brown they'd been moments earlier. But did that warrant the tirade which followed?
"Rogue! What the hell were you thinking?" Scott yelled at me from the pilot's seat. As soon as we were airborne he turned. I could tell from his clenched jaw that he was glaring at me, and that he was furious.
My guard was up immediately. "I saved our asses out there, that's what I'm thinking now! All they needed were some scare tactics used against 'em! Remember, the bright ones are sent to do the recruiting, Scott, or so you've told me countless times!" I yelled right back, trying to ignore how much my hands ached.
"Enough, both of you! Rogue, come here and let me take a look at your hands," Jean commanded from the doorway that lead to the Blackbird's Small medical unit. I reluctantly obeyed.
"That wasn't exactly a smart thing you did back there," Jean murmured as she examined my hands.
"I know, but I was the only one left to protect us all, and I was pretty sure it would work," I replied coolly, wincing a little when she pressed her latex-covered thumb into the back of my right hand.
"How sure?" she asked.
" 'Bout 95%," I said with a twist of my lips that might have been called a smile, if the person describing it was in a good mood and had nothing against me.
She sighed. "I have to admit, you did what I would have done, Rogue, but that doesn't mean I'm not worried about you," she told me quietly.
For the first time in a long while, I recalled our conversation of over a year ago. I suddenly didn't like thinking that I'd placed so much of a burden on Jean with a few pain-filled sentences. Then the part of me that derived its pleasure from the touch assured me that it was necessary. She would have found out, if I hadn’t kept my guard up and her safely out of the way. Still, I felt the need to reassure her somehow.
I covered her gloved hand with my bare one. "I hardly ever think about what my power can't do for me anymore," I told her. It was true. Instead, I thought only of memories in those days. The ones I had, and the ones I might be able to collect.
Jean looked at me, as if searching for something. Finally, her shoulders relaxed and she smiled slightly. "Thanks," was all she said. It was enough.
"Your bones and musculature have been elarged and hardened, as you can see. I'm a little concerned about the flow of blood to and from your hands, but we'll monitor you closely until the mutation begins to fade. Don't worry, it shouldn't be too long," Jean said at a normal volume as she ushered me into the main section of the Blackbird. I nodded like this had been our conversation all along.
Neither Scott nor Storm talked to me on the way back to the mansion. I didn't really mind. I was busy, actually, trying to press down the new memories, which were incredibly dark and full of anger, pain and loneliness. Those feelings were so close to my own, the only differences in the twisted state of the new feelings, the pleasure that the pain had brought the man whose name I knew, after thinking about it for barely a second, was Suicide. Well, yeah, he'd sure been that.
I heard him calling my name as soon as the Blackbird landed gently in the hangar.
I wasn't about to argue. I suddenly wanted away from the people I'd let get so close as to call them "friends," even though we weren't friends in the usual sense. So I rushed out of the hangar and took the elevator to the upper level, where the X-Men's headquarters ended and the mansion which was a school began.
He was sitting behind his desk, wearing that calm look which had always made me wish I could infuriate him, just once. I wondered if he and Jean had been talking telepathically about me. They probably were. I never asked, not during that interview, not afterwards. I never will.
"Rogue, please sit down," Professor Xavier said heavily. He leaned forward and folded his hands on top of his desk.
The Eric in me recognized this gesture was one he made when he was about to give one of his "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but..." lectures. I groaned inwardly, as quietly in my mind as I possibly could, and settled into a chair facing him.
"Thank you. Now, Rogue, I'd like to say first that I'm very worried for you. You are still underweight, no doubt from training too hard and missing a meal or two a day. That's not healthy for you, and you know it. However, I've begun to think that you aren't merely physically unwell, especially after Jean's report to me earlier...Rogue, what were you thinking?" he asked me, unconsciously echoing Scott's question from earlier but in a softer, kinder voice.
I stared down at my hands, then I answered, "I knew that we had to stop them. I was sure that scare tactics were all that was needed, and I was right. The other two ran. The third member of their little party will probably wake up in a few days--unless that mob got to him?" The thought hadn't occurred to me, and it made my voice sharper than I had intended to think that Suicide might not survive. Strange, isn't it, what having someone in your head will make you feel? Protectiveness towards that guy was the last thing that had been on my mind an hour before, but now I was worried that he might be killed by that damn mob.
"No, his Brothers managed to get him to safety. But, Rogue, what if you hadn't succeeded? What if they had ganged up on you? You're not invulnerable, you know. Logan is. You are not him, no matter how much of his personality you may have absorbed," the Professor said, his small smile acknowledging the faint traces of Logan which could sometimes be seen in my behavior.
I seriously thought about this for a minute before replying. "If those kids had made it here safely, Professor, then it would have been worth it. As long as we're playing 'what if' here, well, then what if those goons had managed to get on the Blackbird? More than my life was at stake, sir," I said slowly.
Professor Xavier nodded. "I see that you realized that, instinctually perhaps, and that you acted on it. I can't say that I approve wholely of what you did, but I understand, and I'm very proud of you," he told me.
I felt a burning sensation in my eyes. For the first time in a long while I was close to tears. I let my eyes shut and sat there for a moment, then I opened them and smiled at him. "Thank you, Professor."
"You may go get some rest now, Rogue. You've earned it," he told me.
I smiled and stood up, leaving silently and in a much better state of mind than I'd been in on entering that office.
And when I got to my room, I laid down on my bed and accessed the new memories. Maybe there was something worth my time in them . . .
* * * * * * * * *
Five, six, seven, eight.
I count them over and over as I lay here and review my life thus far. At the time I have just described, my downward spiral, my dance of self-destruction, was almost complete. I know that I am as near to normal as I have ever been right now, so I can say this with confidence.
That wasn't the end, though. No, my final steps were close, but this time, no cigar.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Author’s Notes: This story has been revised to make up for the author’s formerly stupid approach to them. Hopefully, it's much better now.
A/N 2: < > Indicates telepathy
A/N 2: < > Indicates telepathy