I can feel that the end of my journey through my life's record in my mind is near. The events of the year following my reckless but ultimately successful actions in Chicago blur in my mind's eye, blending together into a swirling vortex. It's hard to keep track of things like what I got for my nineteenth birthday or who taught me that really cool kick that I used against that fire breather in Massachusets when I'm trying to sort through things to get to the present.
The most recent of my memories shine brightly in my mind's eye now. Damn it all, I don't want to see this! But they're pulling me, making me see, making me feel what I just wanted to shut away, no matter that there was some good mixed with the bad…
* * * * * * * *
I gained access to the memories of thirty new mutants in the space of one year. Sounds like it should be shocking, doesn’t it? And wouldn’t it have been difficult, hiding those things from my teammates, my mentor, and my friends?
Surprisingly, it wasn’t. They accepted the “necessity” of my frequent usage of my powers. And my adversaries made it all the more easy. Some would come at me and grab at my bare face or exposed neck. A few times I encountered mutants who lived in the sections of New York City that were less than exceptional. Each time, no matter what their gender, I seduced them, then pulled back to enrage them and make them attack me. Everyone was convinced that I was just too young-looking and that I appeared to be too much of a target. And it wasn’t my fault that the evil ones had torn my clothing and grabbed at bare skin, now was it?
The one the one who saw through my façade of cheerful, if slightly dreamy, friend and dutiful X-Man was the new woman who had come to live at the mansion, one Carol Danvers. Although she and I quickly became friends as we both had the tendency to wander alone in the gardens late at night and didn’t mind each other’s company, I realized quickly that she was too much of a kindred spirit. Raised in England and taught there by a counterpart group of the X-Men that one of Xavier’s associates had started about ten years before, Carol used all of her abilities to get what she needed, to do the job, despite the costs. Several times she and the Professor had gone head-to-head about this, but always they’d reached a wary agreement. He wouldn’t question her methods as long as she didn’t kill or seriously harm anyone else, barring threat to her own life, of course.
Carol became part of our group, and the rest of us got to know some more about Xavier’s ventures in Europe. Apparently, his network was more widespread than any of us, including the original X-Men, had been aware of. It spanned three continents and was growing, Xavier using all of his many useful connections and all of the ambition in his heart to coordinate things so that his ideal might be reached, so that human and mutant could live side by side.
I wouldn’t access any memories near Carol if I could help it. Although I knew better, sometimes it seemed as if she could read my mind. That wasn’t her power, though, so I shook off the silly feelings and moved on. Besides, I soon had a much bigger problem to deal with.
They were called Sentinels, and they were some badass mothafuckers.
Sorry, there he goes again, taking over my descriptions and adding his own flavor to 'em. Let's see, where was I?
Oh, yeah, the Sentinels. They were frightening in a way which was unique, different from anything we had experienced so far. Created by the evil Bolivar Trask, who immediately sold every mechanical monster he sold to the Humanity First groups around the nation.
Did I mention how Trask was one of our favorite people? Yeah, right up there with Erik Lenscherr, founder of the Brotherhood. Lovely people you can meet in our line of work.
So, the Sentinels became our most difficult opponents. And their numbers seemed endless. Of course, they were machines which could be reproduced at their masters' will, so that made sense. They just never seemed to stop coming, though.
We made mistakes at first, when it came to dealing with them. I don't know how the Professor got the money to pay the city of Pittsburgh for the way our getting rid of our newest enemies in that first fight demolished half a block of warehouses. Thankfully, most of them had been abandoned--and not yet occupied by the homeless. Most of them, anyway. Then there was the day that a group of Sentinels was reported trying to round up some of the Morlocks of New York City's underground. Nah, I don't think the mayor was too happy with us after that one. Wall Street will never be the same.
I should add here that I didn't like fighting the Sentinels much, on a personal level. I didn't get to do much besides keep the Blackbird warm while the others went out and fought. When I did get a chance to join in the fun, it was mainly to guide mutants we were rescuing to the plane. I couldn't touch the victims of the Sentinels. And the Sentinels were made of metal and mechanical parts, which meant there were no memories for me to pick up with "accidental" brushes of skin against skin. Damn them.
I hate an enemy I can't fight against. I hate an enemy I can't fight against and whom I can't touch even more. It's sad, thinking of how desperate I was for touch, for memories then.
It was our fifth battle with the Sentinels when things took a surprising and painful turn for the worst. Surprising for everyone else and incredibly painful for me, anyway. I, as was becoming standard procedure during our battles with the metal monsters, was manning the Blackbird. I was even pouting a little because everyone else got to go out and beat up the damn things and I had to stay behind. Yeah, I know, pretty childish, huh?
Cyclops and Carol were doing the most damage to the Sentinels. I was pretty proud of 'em, even while I was busy being envious. The whole team worked in sync with each other; Jean, Storm and Iceman providing the support and adding the final touches to finish off the baddies. Gotta love teamwork, even if you're just observing it.
However, probably because of her abilities, which included invulnerability, Carol wasn't being as careful as she should have been. She hacked off one Sentinel's head with the severed arm plate of another, and it was her own damn bad luck that the head fell on her. Of course, that alone wouldn't have been enough to hurt her much. That invulnerability I mentioned. But under the head and over her was the arm plate, and its sharp edge shoved its way into her chest.
I still don’t know why it was able to do that in the first place. Normally, even a sharpen knife couldn’t pierce Carol’s skin. She had demonstrated that to us the first day she had arrived at the mansion. My current theory is that the metal was electrically charged by the cables that had been severed with that head. Really, though, there’s no way to be sure why it happened.
Even as I watched and went numb with shock, I knew that she wouldn't have a chance in hell. Invulnerability doesn't cover internal organs being spilled onto the ground.
Thankfully, the other X-Men noticed what had happened right away. Jean and Storm gathered her up using the technique they had perfected since the Statue of Liberty incident, which I tried to forget as much as I could while retaining Logan's strong presence in my head. They carried her with them as they ran to the Blackbird, Cyclops and Iceman following and providing cover.
I could tell from the blank hopelessness I saw in Jean's eyes as she tried to staunch the flow of Carol's blood--so red, so damn red--that there was nothing that would save her. I gave up the pilot's seat to Scott so that I could go kneel beside where Carol lay bleeding her life out onto the Blackbird's previously pristine metal floors.
"Damn," I whispered sadly, looking into the fading blue of her eyes. She had been one of the few who had never flinched away from an accidental brush of my cloth-covered skin against her, sometimes even touching me voluntarily, a squeeze of her hand on my shoulder, a slight hug when I did something well on a mission. In a way, she was as close to an older sister as I think I'm ever going to get.
Even then, I was thinking of her in the past tense, and I hated myself for it, too. I stared down at her, tears gathering in my eyes, uncertain of what to say to her in those last moments.
When she saw me, though, Carol's eyes lit up. "Let me...live through...you," she whispered weakly, blood bubbling up out of her mouth with every word, with every breath.
I knew what she was asking. I wanted to shrink away from her. There was something different here, something that wasn't me brushing a bare hand against an enemy's bare skin during battle to gain memories. What she asked spoke of love, of kinship that I hadn't dared hope for. It terrified me.
So I did the only thing I could do. Tears streaming down my face, I leaned down and hugged her, letting my bare, tearstained cheek press against her blood-spattered face.
There was something different to the pull this time. It came more quickly, with a snap that made me want to pull away. Almost. And the feeling of Carol rushing into me wasn't anything like what I had experienced before. It was like she was running for her life, seeking a hiding place from the darkness that was ready to swallow her up. Her energy filled my body, and my veins felt like they were close to bursting.
Finally, the pull stopped. I sat up and stared into her glassy eyes, knowing that she was truly dead now. My tears had stopped, though, because she was with me. Her mind bolstered mine, reassured me, and she offered me all that she had had.
It was more than I'd ever absorbed before. So it makes sense that I passed out. It also makes sense that I started babbling in my unconscious state. You don't believe me, you try having a buncha people in your head and then get a big rush of person that is almost as strong as the "you" inside your mind. Then you try telling me that a gal talking while unconscious is unusual. Just try.
They played me a recording of what I said when I woke up. I should have known that they taped every mission. Some sort of idea for using the records for training. Damn them.
I s'pose you want to hear it. Fine. Be my guest. I just want to warn you, though, that it wasn't pretty. Not at all.
"Rogue!" That was Jean, screaming my name as she caught me.
"My god, why--"
"Carol asked her to." The soft voice of Storm interrupting Scott's shocked outburst.
"I couldn't die." That's when I started babbling. The only thing you could call it. "None of us have deserved to be here before. Only me, and Logan, you know. We're the ones who cared for her. She's our family. The others...dammit, I should have realized. You should have realized. Why didn't you, Jean? She's all torn up inside and there's nothing I can do. I'll have to become part of her or I'll be as bad as the ones who haven't yet. Even Erik's managed to integrate himself here. But not the ones who..." The Carol in me, fading out as she came to understand that I probably wouldn't have wanted her to say anything.
"They what, Carol? Who are you talking about? Rogue wouldn't touch anyone unless there was extreme danger to us. So what the hell are you talking about?" Bobby, trying to act all big and manly. Okay, maybe he was by then, but not so I ever noticed in a female sort of way.
"Hush, Bobby. Neither Rogue or Carol in her mind need the third degree right now." Scott, calm again.
"But you want to know, don't you? You rat-bastards wanna know what this little bitch did to us. Well, I'll tell ya. She raped us. Or good enough. She's been running around touchin' mutants in battle for the last year, getting away with their memories. Bet ya sorry fuckers don't know why she's doing it, either. Maybe I'll tell ya." Don't ask me. One of the mutants I've absorbed lately. I can't even tell you now which one.
"Oh?" Jean wouldn't ask anymore than that.
"Yeah. Bitch deserves ta be ratted on. See, the girl got it inta her head that she could experience touch through the memories of the peeps she took power from. None of us have faded much, what with her riflin' through our memories looking for the good stuff at least twice, sometimes as much as ten times a day. The girl just goes off into a trance and lets loose on the little images in her mind. She's gotten pretty good at it. A while back she got the bright idea that some of the enemy would have some memories that might take lookin' into. Guess she got tired of the same old, same old, even Logan's very fascinating sex life. But ya don't wanna know about that. So she's got us rattlin' around in here, and she tries to pretend that we don't exist except to drag memories out of. But this new bitch she let in is gonna change that. I can tell." The voice, mine and not mine, was smug.
"Pardon me, my friends. I let one of her victims take control for a moment to let you see what she has become. I suspected, but I had no proof. Who was I to object to her almost constant meditation? She kept her distance from me, though, as much as she could and still call me friend. It was as if she knew that I was close to discovering the truth. So it wasn't until now that I was sure. You must help her, Jean. You, and the Professor, you are the only ones who can help her. Except--" Carol's voice coming from my mouth stopped, as if she didn't want to complete that thought.
"Except who, Carol? Rogue? Oh, god, is this confusing." Jean only mutters to herself when she's really frustrated.
"I shouldn't say. He's been gone for so long. His presence in her mind has lessened with each person she has violated. Truly, though, Jean, she never hurt any of them." Carol's plea for Jean's, for the team's understanding was a ruse. I could tell from her tone. She was trying to protect me, I believe. Protect my feelings, even after all she had found out about me. "They only remain in her mind because she holds so tight to their memories. If she'd let go...if there were just some way for her to touch...I don't know what to do!" I believe that was me, but I still can't be sure. “Perhaps there is a way…but I will have to look deeper, become more a part of her before I can say for certain.”
"We'll help her," Jean promised.
"Thank you." Carol or me. At that point it was like our voices were merging.
There was silence in the plane after that, a silence that reigned over practically everyone until I woke up in the Medlab.
That's when all hell broke loose. If I thought that everyone had been angry with me over the incident with Suicide and a few others after that, it was nothing compared to what they felt now that they knew, really knew, what I'd been doing to myself for the past few years.
I started crying at some point in the various tirades lashed out at me. I remember screaming above their voices, "I'm sorry! I just didn't want to be alone! I wanted to touch."
They were all quiet again, and then Storm did something that I will always be grateful to her for. She came over and wrapped her arms around me. Okay, yeah, she still looked pretty damn mad, but she was offering me her comfort and support anyway.
"We're going to have to work with you to get over your addiction, Rogue. It's going to be painful, but we have to," the Professor said as his chair rolled over so that he looked up directly into my eyes.
I nodded, my head throbbing and my eyes sore from crying. I wanted it all to end, finally. The memories weren't worth it any more. I began to see what they were. A way of hiding from the world, of keeping myself apart even when I thought I wanted to get closer to people. They were my excuses to stay out of the big game called life.
And I was sick of them.
Jean ordered me to lie back down and try to get some real rest. I obeyed because I was too sick at heart not to. As I slipped off into sleep I heard something that, had I been less exhausted, would have had me bounding out of the bed and running outta that mansion quick as you please.
"I'm going to use Cerebro to locate Logan. Then we must call him here."
Well, damn.
* * * * * * * *
My dance through the stars is done. Now, all I have to do is try to find some happiness and peace in my own life. Which, you know, is pretty hard considering the fact that the Professor just informed me that Logan's on his way and I really don't know what the hell to think about that.
But I do know that I'm gonna be okay. Someday.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
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.