scribblemyname | The Rogue 1.2 ~ Breathing: Drowning (Reply)

Story Arc: The Rogue
Fandom: X-Men: The Movie
Story Arc Summary: Rogue and Logan have become a team as well as a family. He helps her to learn who she is after the Cure destroyed what little control she had. But when the people who once took away Logan's memories accidentally take away Rogue's and a mysterious Cajun Thief rescues her, she is caught up in a worldwide manhunt for Gambit while Logan desperately searches for her.
Disclaimers: All characters and organizations (with the exception of small, mostly unnamed minor characters) throughout the series are the product of Marvel.
Canonical Notes: This story arc follows X1, X2, and X3 as canon for characters and events. All else is pulled from comicverse and mixed heftily with my imagination. Origins is ignored, except a few situations and characters twisted to my happy use.
Language and Accents: Cajun French is courtesy of Heavenmetal (many thanks). French is courtesy of Disdainfully Arrogant and Marmottin (many thanks). I will not reproduce accents in this story arc. Imagine them in.

Story Title: Breathing
Chapter Title: 2. Drowning
Story Summary: She took the Cure thinking it would save her. It didn't.
Canonical Notes: Set immediately following the events of X3.
Author's Notes: I thought I was writing this for Without a Trace. Turns out I wasn't, but I couldn't drop it anyway.

"It's coming back, Logan." Her voice was flat in her own ears, and she wasn't surprised when Logan stared at her.

He set down his fork, his cup of coffee, never noticing he'd spilled on the newspaper and a wet, dark ring was forming. He stared into the deadened eyes she had seen in her own face in the mirror, and for one long, endless moment, she was the little girl climbing into the back of his truck again, putting on him a burden that had never been his to shoulder.

"The touch?" he asked. Bewildered, perhaps, but sharp as ever. There was only one thing that could mean so much.

Rogue shrugged with a casualness belying her words. "Just the voices."

She was twisting in the sheets, screaming.

The stench of burning flesh drifted from the ovens of the concentration camp as needle sharp pain tatooed a number on her arm. Her limbs were too thin, getting thinner, and the sweat of her body made her feel like merely food for the ovens.

And this is what happened to God's people?

"The nightmares." She frowned and looked up at him. "Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm me or you."