It should have been the best news of her life. Instead Rogue stared at the phone, in a potent mix of fear and dread, trying desperately to comprehend what she was hearing.
Bobby. Awake.
"Thank ya. Ah'll be right down."
She felt like she was dreaming as she hung up the phone and turned around to face the other occupants of the kitchen. Logan was clearly able to read the shock on her face and trying to figure out what it meant. Storm looked concerned. And Remy...
Her thoughts faltered abruptly. "Bobby's awake," she said flatly and brushed past the students filtering in. She didn't exactly flee out of the kitchen, but she walked very briskly.
Upstairs was no better. None of her clothes were good enough. She could barely even remember what Bobby used to like. She'd spent seven years becoming her own person again and to him, nothing but a single long night had passed.
This was supposed to be the best moment of her life. She couldn't breathe as she sat down on her discarded clothing choices in the middle of the floor, couldn't breathe, couldn't stop sobbing, not sure why nothing in the world would reconcile. This wasn't the best. Not even close.
What kind of a horrible person am Ah?
Bobby was her husband. Her husband. She should want to see him, hold him in her arms again, hear his quiet laughter, see the love shining in his eyes.
This was all her fault. She had put him in that coma, and she had failed to keep his memory alive. How could she stare into that faultless love and know she didn't love him back?
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timeasmymeasure
Oh, drat it. This one's going to hurt.
Date: 2012-03-29 07:31 pm (UTC)Bobby. Awake.
"Thank ya. Ah'll be right down."
She felt like she was dreaming as she hung up the phone and turned around to face the other occupants of the kitchen. Logan was clearly able to read the shock on her face and trying to figure out what it meant. Storm looked concerned. And Remy...
Her thoughts faltered abruptly. "Bobby's awake," she said flatly and brushed past the students filtering in. She didn't exactly flee out of the kitchen, but she walked very briskly.
Upstairs was no better. None of her clothes were good enough. She could barely even remember what Bobby used to like. She'd spent seven years becoming her own person again and to him, nothing but a single long night had passed.
This was supposed to be the best moment of her life. She couldn't breathe as she sat down on her discarded clothing choices in the middle of the floor, couldn't breathe, couldn't stop sobbing, not sure why nothing in the world would reconcile. This wasn't the best. Not even close.
What kind of a horrible person am Ah?
Bobby was her husband. Her husband. She should want to see him, hold him in her arms again, hear his quiet laughter, see the love shining in his eyes.
This was all her fault. She had put him in that coma, and she had failed to keep his memory alive. How could she stare into that faultless love and know she didn't love him back?