Rogue's Kiss

The man called Wolverine sat against a wall in his dark room, staring at the blank wall, a beer resting between his feet. Only his eyes and shaggy hair were visible from behind the barricade of his arms resting on his bent knees. His room was Spartan bare. Only a bed, desk, and chair were its furniture. Very out of place was a Samurai sword hung on the wall. He knew how to use it but he didn’t know from where.

Never in his sporadically remembered life had he wished for his powers to just disappear. Never before in his life did he wish he could get drunk until he simply passed out and the world of hurt swam away.

On the heels of that was the need to simply hop onto his bike and head for the mountains, countries, wherever! As long as it was away from the pain of this place! But he couldn’t leave. What kind of man would he be if he left these people when they really needed him? He had been there to pull these kids out of the fire when they were about to get burned in this hateful world and he wanted to leave when they faced an enemy they couldn’t blast or phase through? Not likely, bub.

But Rogue was still dead. How do you apologize and protect from that? She had died on his watch, it was his job to teach her to stay alive in this world that would burn her at the stake if they could. How do you tell a crying girl that everything was going to be okay when you didn’t believe that shit yourself?

He had been through some fucked up things, he knew it even if he couldn’t remember and this was one time when he couldn’t just pop his claws and take out whatever it was that was bugging him. He would survive this though. They all would. This wouldn’t be the first tine someone close to them would die. They were being brought up to fight for people who hated them against people who would never understand them.

But he had still failed that girl.

He drained his can of beer and took another, crushing it in his hand when the piercing scream drilled his sensitive ears. He was out the door before the can hit the floor.

There are precious few times in this life when something can completely and utterly surprise you. Surprise parties? Whatever! After all you know that something is going to happen right? Getting raped? You knew that was a possibility when you went down that ally, right? Getting killed? Well everyone dies! Speaking of that, why am I looking at my dead best friend right now?

Kitty’s consciousness decided to stall for a moment and go off on its own metaphysical tangent…. that’s the word right…when she had looked up to see Rogue’s pale face hovering over her. Everything seemed to stand out in perfect clarity in that moment. Her hair was matted with dirt, face streaked with the face makeup she had applied and the muck of newly moved earth. The dress was no longer straight and prim but ragged and ripped. The arms holding her had more of those brown streaks against the pale skin. Dirt was packed under the nails and scraped off against the shirt Kitty wore. Kitty’s neck creaked up to look into the eyes. They were so blank but seemed wise and young. None of this really got to her, maybe just the shock of the death (her? Death?) was still on her but she didn’t scream it was only when that dead, raspy voice, as if it hadn’t been used for so long spoke.

“Please don’t cry, Kitty,” it said. “I’m here again. Don’t cry.”

Dimly Kitty could hear a shrill scream that sounded suspiciously like it was coming from her. A look of fear and confusion came over the figure that looked like Rogue put her hand over Kitty’s mouth to still the noise. Kitty went ballistic, to panicked to phase but fighting against the arms around her.

Rogue had spoke the words as a kind of way to comfort Kitty. It was drilling right into her soul that Kitty was hurting over her so she had done what she would have done before. Hugged her and told her that everything was going to be all right. Once Kitty had gone into hysterics when a boy she had liked when out with another. Just one of those teen things that seem so big at the time but a weak later you wonder what you freaked about. Only Rogue had been able to calm the girl down. She wanted to do that now, help Kitty and do something normal, make herself feel normal.

That thick blue mist that had almost been choking her suddenly went from that deep aqua to a pulsing gold that nearly blinded her and Kitty had screamed.

The fear was like living thing, hysterical and beyond reason. It sank into Rogue in sickening waves of terror that confused Rogue only more then she was.

Why is she afraid of me? Doesn’t she want me back?

The hand moved without her knowing to over Kitty’s mouth in some effort to stifle the fear and scream. Her hand clamped over the mouth and squeezed lightly. The screams doublnd Knd Kitty began to fight in pain as brutal strength ground her teeth against her soft lips and cut them open in six places, blood flowing out onto Rogue’s palm.

Rogue was just about to pull back in horror when three sharp points of pain gouge her through her back and through her stomach, severing her spine so she flops onto the three bloody points protruding through her front.

Logan belted down through the hallways, passing by students who come out of their room and tell the Professor’s inquiry that he was already on his way. He broke through the back door and into the garden that Storm kept. He quickly inhaled and caught Kitty’s scent, now laced with fear. He sprinted towards the woods edge, the thought “not another” exploding in his head.

He saw them. A dark figure in black hunched over the struggling Kitty, trying to shush her. The scent coming of this guy was heavy and evil. He didn’t think anyone could actually smell evil but this guy did. The old rage hit him like a brick wall so he leapt forward, claws, extending before he registered that beneath the evil the person smelled familiar.

His arms shot forward and shoved the tips of his adamantium-laced claws through the guy’s spine, making the bastards legs go weak and slump forward. Only then did he notice the dress, the hair, and the underscent.

“Rogue?” his voice croaked out into the ensuing silence.

The dark head turned to show the pale face, blood dripping from the corner of the lipstick smudged mouth.

“Hey, Logan,” she said before closing her eyes.

Scott and Jean laid in Scott’s bed in the afterglow. Hands still subtly stroking every part of the other person, amazed at this coming together, longing not to lose it but it was shattered with the scream and Jean’s stiffening.

“what is it, Jean?”

in a voice more dead then anything Scott had ever heard she replied.

“Rogue’s back.”