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just_rogueWho: Rogue & Remy and any one else in the infirmary
What: Rogue comes to after 2 days of personal hell
Where: Infirmary
When: Following the Attacks on patrols.
Warnings/Notes: Mention of blood and injury, mention of mental health, possibly damn couple cuteness beyond standing.
Rogue spent the next day out cold, she was too still and too pale for most of it. Her mind was filtering through all the recent input and it felt like poprocks in her brain. She had poor Robbie up there, seeing and feeling his guilt and self-recrimination, his fear not for himself but that he would hurt other people. Again. She knew those thoughts all too well, she’d lived them the better part of her life. She also knew how easy it was to fall into that hole and shut yourself off from the world and everyone else.
Even more unpleasantly she had that woman in her head, snippets of her at least. She felt foul and ruinous in her mind, the sort of presence that makes babies cry and flowers wilt. Each time a part of that borrow mind swam up in her thoughts Rogue would cringe and shrink back. Even unconscious she understood the danger of a being so ruthless and dark. It didn’t help that the breathing tube down her throat which was keeping her alive and able to get air just reminded her of that woman’s acts of violence.
After twenty four hours her body had begun to break down the toxins and she began to function on her own again, when it was safe to do so the breathing tube was remove and she seemed to settle more calmly after that. Still receiving oxygen but now in a less invasive nasal cannula helped her get enough good air. Her wounds had been severe and the blood loss was substantial, but she seemed to be recovering well. No small thanks to taking a bit of the woman’s healing with her when she grabbed on.
Still it was deep into the night of the second day before she woke, and she woke with a scream. Rogue bolted up with her hands crossed in front of herself, and that was a bad idea for so many reasons. The pain lanced through her, stitches and freshly mending flesh threatening to tear from the sudden movement. Her muscles ached like she’d been bench pressing Panzer tanks. Her throat felt rough as gravel and on fire.
Some part of her mind that had been trained over years of battles with the X-men told her the smart thing to do now was lay back down, get her breathing under control and figure out what was going on. As much as she wanted to get out of bed she knew that was the worst thing she could do. So she went from upright and screaming to back down and staring at the ceiling with wide green eyes in just a few seconds. She needed to know Robbie was ok, she needed to get caught up, but she wasn’t in a position to do much good about either at the moment.
What: Rogue comes to after 2 days of personal hell
Where: Infirmary
When: Following the Attacks on patrols.
Warnings/Notes: Mention of blood and injury, mention of mental health, possibly damn couple cuteness beyond standing.
Rogue spent the next day out cold, she was too still and too pale for most of it. Her mind was filtering through all the recent input and it felt like poprocks in her brain. She had poor Robbie up there, seeing and feeling his guilt and self-recrimination, his fear not for himself but that he would hurt other people. Again. She knew those thoughts all too well, she’d lived them the better part of her life. She also knew how easy it was to fall into that hole and shut yourself off from the world and everyone else.
Even more unpleasantly she had that woman in her head, snippets of her at least. She felt foul and ruinous in her mind, the sort of presence that makes babies cry and flowers wilt. Each time a part of that borrow mind swam up in her thoughts Rogue would cringe and shrink back. Even unconscious she understood the danger of a being so ruthless and dark. It didn’t help that the breathing tube down her throat which was keeping her alive and able to get air just reminded her of that woman’s acts of violence.
After twenty four hours her body had begun to break down the toxins and she began to function on her own again, when it was safe to do so the breathing tube was remove and she seemed to settle more calmly after that. Still receiving oxygen but now in a less invasive nasal cannula helped her get enough good air. Her wounds had been severe and the blood loss was substantial, but she seemed to be recovering well. No small thanks to taking a bit of the woman’s healing with her when she grabbed on.
Still it was deep into the night of the second day before she woke, and she woke with a scream. Rogue bolted up with her hands crossed in front of herself, and that was a bad idea for so many reasons. The pain lanced through her, stitches and freshly mending flesh threatening to tear from the sudden movement. Her muscles ached like she’d been bench pressing Panzer tanks. Her throat felt rough as gravel and on fire.
Some part of her mind that had been trained over years of battles with the X-men told her the smart thing to do now was lay back down, get her breathing under control and figure out what was going on. As much as she wanted to get out of bed she knew that was the worst thing she could do. So she went from upright and screaming to back down and staring at the ceiling with wide green eyes in just a few seconds. She needed to know Robbie was ok, she needed to get caught up, but she wasn’t in a position to do much good about either at the moment.
