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Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
After enough time on the island, it wasn't unusual to wake up and notice things were different. Weather changed and the atmosphere smelled different, the bed you were sleeping in wasn't quite right, the skin you were sleeping in wasn't yours.
Which was just creepy.
This time, though, as Rogue stretched into the sheets and turned her face against the pillow, instead of the nag of unfamiliarity and the typical roll of dread in the pit of her stomach, she felt a deep flood of comfort. She breathed in deep and opened her eyes, slowly, letting the creme colored paint and familiar furniture come into focus. The light from the window meant it was morning. Distantly she could hear sounds of movement, but it was far off, in some distant room of the mansion. The mansion.
She sat bolt upright, suddenly hyper aware of her surroundings. Her room looked exactly as she had left it. This was zero help. The island never pulled the same trick twice in a month. Hell, the island never pulled the same trick twice in a year. She started for the door, turned back and found some shorts so she wasn't running around in a thong and a t-shirt, and then headed out, bewildered and skeptical. She stomped barefooted down the hall for the stairs, her thoughts turning rapidly. If she was home, what did that mean? Shouldn't she have been on that barren plateau holding an unconscious Remy Lebeau in her arms? Or did the world reset itself after the M'kraan hit, and then unhit? It was possible, maybe, that the rift in the timeline Legion had created had done something similar to all the X-Men, sent them someplace else and brought them back. Siege Perilous had done similar. And if that were true, and she was about to be surrounded by a bunch of grumpy, agitated, confused mutants (she'd prefer Sentinels, good Lord) then after the dust settled and they'd been debriefed, maybe she could just give Gateway or Lila Cheney a li'l visit 'n see...
See if the island was even a real place? Home two minutes and you're lookin' for a way back? How is that right...?
The thought had stopped her and she looked up, seeing where she was for the first time since her room. Muscle memory, years of habit, knowing the place so intimately- she'd made straight for the kitchen. Beast stared at her from the beam he hung upside down on, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other, and Iceman sat with a spoon poking out of his mouth and a bowl of rapidly disintegrating cereal in front of him.
"...What?" she said, startled.
"Good morning," Bobby said around the spoon before pulling it out.
"And I inquired as to how you were feeling on this particularly lovely day," Beast added. "But perhaps it's earlier for some of us than others. Coffee, Rogue?"
The young mutant known only as Rogue blinked, twice, and tried to get a grip on reality as she said, "Oh. No thanks, Hank."
Which was just creepy.
This time, though, as Rogue stretched into the sheets and turned her face against the pillow, instead of the nag of unfamiliarity and the typical roll of dread in the pit of her stomach, she felt a deep flood of comfort. She breathed in deep and opened her eyes, slowly, letting the creme colored paint and familiar furniture come into focus. The light from the window meant it was morning. Distantly she could hear sounds of movement, but it was far off, in some distant room of the mansion. The mansion.
She sat bolt upright, suddenly hyper aware of her surroundings. Her room looked exactly as she had left it. This was zero help. The island never pulled the same trick twice in a month. Hell, the island never pulled the same trick twice in a year. She started for the door, turned back and found some shorts so she wasn't running around in a thong and a t-shirt, and then headed out, bewildered and skeptical. She stomped barefooted down the hall for the stairs, her thoughts turning rapidly. If she was home, what did that mean? Shouldn't she have been on that barren plateau holding an unconscious Remy Lebeau in her arms? Or did the world reset itself after the M'kraan hit, and then unhit? It was possible, maybe, that the rift in the timeline Legion had created had done something similar to all the X-Men, sent them someplace else and brought them back. Siege Perilous had done similar. And if that were true, and she was about to be surrounded by a bunch of grumpy, agitated, confused mutants (she'd prefer Sentinels, good Lord) then after the dust settled and they'd been debriefed, maybe she could just give Gateway or Lila Cheney a li'l visit 'n see...
See if the island was even a real place? Home two minutes and you're lookin' for a way back? How is that right...?
The thought had stopped her and she looked up, seeing where she was for the first time since her room. Muscle memory, years of habit, knowing the place so intimately- she'd made straight for the kitchen. Beast stared at her from the beam he hung upside down on, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other, and Iceman sat with a spoon poking out of his mouth and a bowl of rapidly disintegrating cereal in front of him.
"...What?" she said, startled.
"Good morning," Bobby said around the spoon before pulling it out.
"And I inquired as to how you were feeling on this particularly lovely day," Beast added. "But perhaps it's earlier for some of us than others. Coffee, Rogue?"
The young mutant known only as Rogue blinked, twice, and tried to get a grip on reality as she said, "Oh. No thanks, Hank."
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"I mean, sorry for your loss, 'n all," she added, rubbing her back of her neck.
"I dunno what you wanna do 'bout it. You c'n take my car if you wanna split, it's the red convertible."
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He nodded once, and started for the door. As he turned the handle, though, he hesitated, and turned to look back at Rogue. "Uh, I could Sherlock my way to your room, but it'd save me some time if you just gave me some directions."
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"Ah- yeah, c'mon, sugar." Her head felt cloudy. No surprise there. But she'd forgotten how bad it could get. Because it was bad.
She started down the hallway, making an effort not to look distracted, with limited success.
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"I'll make sure no one sees me on the way out," he added just as quietly, mostly to make conversation. Silences made him uncomfortable. "I can be very sneaky."
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"Prof'll probably be too busy grillin' me t'bother ya. He's gotta know somethin's up, even if me'n Wolvie ain't talkin' 'bout it." She stopped in front of her door and opened it, going to the bedside table.
It was strange. Her tv, her laptop, her book collection, the small collection of stuffed animals on her bed. It made her feel painfully homesick and embarrassed at the same time. She opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a keyring, and tossed it to Jamie.
"Should be a full tank."
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"Great," he said, pocketing the keys. He was already heading back to the door before he added, " And Rogue? Have a nice visit."