|Rogue (nosouthernbelle) wrote in no_good_deed,|
@ 2011-02-07 14:23:00
|Entry tags:||closed, deadpool, rogue|
Oh, my chains...I can't disengage
Who: Rogue OTA
What: Coming back to the mansion
When: Monday afternoon
Where: The memorial stones
The night Rogue left the mansion, it had been in shambles. There were missing walls, broken windows, dead bodies in the snow, and blood everywhere. Her own hands had been gloved in it. Now the mansion looked almost back to its full glory. The work that had been done on it was so speedy, and her memory of the past almost month was so spotty that Rogue had to wonder if it had all been a dream or not. But then she'd wondered if returning here had been just a dream to begin with.
There was a day she'd run into Paige. That was the day she'd made an appointment at the clinic to get the Cure administered again. Paige talked her out of it, and Rogue returned to her hotel room to question things once more. The next morning her reflection showed her red hair to be framed with white. She'd stood there for a long time, just staring at herself in the mirror and seeing nothing.
She was quick to anger now, possibly because everyone she'd ever absorbed from, with the exception of Piotr, had a lot of anger and hatred in their lives. It came easily, and it lasted for a long time. Sometimes she remembered what happened in those hours, days of rages. Most of the time she didn't. Rogue, by herself, was completely broken. Because Rogue, by herself, no longer existed. Every new experience was linked to an old experience that may or may not have been hers. Every sight, sound, touch. It all blended together into a large mass of memories and sensations that had no clear or real lines. She no longer knew where "they" ended and where she began.
Going back, she found a kid she knew from before. He was outside, helping to clear up the remnants of debris that had made it to the outer reaches of the attack. He recognized Rogue and let her in. A large part of her thought the boy was foolish, while the smaller part was relieved.
Why was she here? She couldn't remember. But her feet seemed to know where they wanted to go. Walking over melting snow on an unseasonably warm winter afternoon, Rogue ran a hand through her two-toned hair and hugged her arms around herself. She stayed on the outskirts, taking the long and less obvious way around to where the memorials sat, untouched and miraculously upright. It was hard to understand why, especially when there was so much emotion swirling under the surface, but seeing the three stones gave Rogue a peace she'd been missing for a long time now.
Her hand brushed over the marker for Scott, fingers running over the letters of his name. There was fondness here, and strong jealousy and envy, even a little annoyance. Jean's memorial stone produced a love so fierce that it brought tears to her eyes, and fear. There was definite fear of Jean. Xavier's stone, the feel of it cool under her palm, was nothing but adoration. People loved the professor, respected him even if they didn't agree with him. There were small feelings of uneasiness, but it was the comfort his memory brought that had her there.
Despite the snow, Rogue got to her knees before Xavier's stone. Her head tilted to the side, green eyes looking sad and lost. "Why aren't you here?" she asked quietly. She was immobile for a moment, just staring at the stone and the profile of Xavier carved into it. When she spoke again, her voice was just a whisper. "I don't know what to do, Professor." A tear slid down her cheek. "I need help."