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Rogue's Kiss	By : Ramsey Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General Views: 5768 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

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Professor Charles Francis Xavier. Teacher. Telepath. Mentor.

He held his hands up in front of him, staring up at the cloudless sky, ruled by the full moon. To see him was to think he was in deep contemplation, when in fact he was praying. Silver rays of moonlight spilled through the high window and into the dark study of the man who was all these things. The light gleamed on the steel parts of the chair he had been trapped in for the past twenty years.

Not many people knew just how religious Charles Xavier was. He preferred to keep his faith a private matter and not try to put any of his students ill at ease. He sat now, trying to calm his tortured mind and conscious by asking forgiveness for his sins against others. Specifically the ones against Rogue.

�Heavenly Father, forgive me for letting Rogue die when she still had so much life ahead of her. So much potential�.�

Hot tears traced the old lines on his face as he sobbed late into the night, never finding that forgiveness that he asked for.
Kitty Pryde sat with her legs bent and pressed against her chest, chin resting on her knees. She was outside at the forests edge that bordered the school. The light wind played over her face, sweeping the young and tear-ravaged face. For the moment her tears had dried up and she sat numb and too exhausted to sleep. She didn�t fool herself. She knew that there would be many more tears ahead for her. Just thinking about having to go back to the room that was now devoid of Rogue�s presence. The rough bark of the tree dug into her back with the harsh sob that cut through her.

�Rogue is gone,� Kitty whispered into the night wind. �Like deal with it, okay?� the wind didn�t talk back but carried her words away.

She had done all she could do to make sure Rogue would have liked her funeral. A harsh laugh escaped her at the thought. If there was anybody she knew who would have been pissed off at having a boring, normal funeral it was her room�former roommate. It had been surprisingly easy to convince the professor to let her plan the whole thing, from the coffin to what the reception would be like.

She had agonized most over what kind of clothes she was going to bury Rogue in. she was sure that if she buried Rogue in a white dress or something she would be haunted for the rest of her life.

She finally decided on a black lace dress that reached her knees. And of course the black combat boots that were her trmarkmark around the house. It was easy to know where Rogue always was; you could here her heavy treads punishing the floorboards as she passed. Her make up was classic Gothic with black and purple colored nails alternating from stiff finger to stiff finger. Much to the undertakers chagrin she had painted those nails herself.

Only when it was gone did everyone realize just how quiet the room was. So devoid of life. Rogue�s life.

The coffin had been easy as was the spot near a rear corner, away from most of the others. The headstone was maybe the only thing she would have had a beef with, Rogue always had a beef with something. She probably would have preferred a gargoyle rather then an angel.

But it wasn�t just a sense of responsibility that made her take this task was it. No. Maybe the professor had seen why too and let it go so easily. She needed to do this or she would not be able to do anything. The night that the police had arrived ae doe door was a merciless blow that still stung, like a punch in slow motion. It hadn�t taken long for all the students to gather outside the professor�s study. And it didn�t take them long to see who was missing from the crowd.

If she hadn�t taken on the job of the preparations that punch would have knocked her out into nothingness. She didn�t know what she would have done. But now with all the work done but life still moving on she couldn�t hide anymore.

Her stomach started trembling and it spread through her until the sobs clawed into her guts and ate her from the inside out. The pain welled and took her in its current, washing her away. Salty water ran her face into her mouth as she cried.

When the wind dropped and cold arms reached around her and held her, she leaned into the comfort for a second before inhaling the scent of deep earth into her nose. She felt the dirt gritting against her skin and she opened her eyes. The tears blurred her vision so she could only hear the soft southern accent float on the wind.

�Please don�t cry, Kitty,� it said. �I�m here again. Don�t cry.�
Rouge�s eyes snapped opened again. She sat bolt up right, the scream to be let out pushing at her lips. She looked around wildly and saw herself still in the dark graveyard, sitting up on the crisp grass beside a jagged hole in the ground.

Her breath came in great gasps of terror, her chest rising and falling in her black lace dress she wore. Her eyes were held hostage by the hole in front of the grave with her name on it.

There was a long moment when her mind was close to just chucking it all away. It said that it was ridiculous that she had clawed her way out her own grave. Stuff like that happened in Anne Rice but not in real life. Shit like that just didn�t happen. So don�t worry about it. Just curl up into a ball and ignore the world for a while, deal? And if that �awhile� turns into forever, so what?

Her mind worked like some bloated machine that was over worked and overfed, the gears churning slowly.

While her mind decided whether to shut down or not, she looked herself over. She was wearing a black lace dress that stopped short at her pale knees. Her shins glowed with paleness in the frail light before meeting with her favorite pair of combat boots. She raised her trembling hands to her eye level and stared at them. Shiny Black and purple polish alternated on her fingernails. Without the aid of a mirror (something she would never need again) she knew that her face was powered white with purple lipstick and black eye shadow. She gave a little grin.

�Thanks, Kitty,� she whispered.

For what? Her mind whispered back.

�For dressing me right,� she answered back.

Why would she dress you?

With a shuddering sigh, Rogue answered her own question.

�Because only she knows how I would want to be buried.�

Buried? Don�t be ridiculous� op!�op!� she ordered herself. �Stop trying to block it out!�

Her mind reluctantly obeyed her command. It had spent the last three years learning to block out unwanted thoughts and didn�t know when to quit.

When the admission was out the shock set in.

She was dead. They had buried her. But she was alive. She sat here breathing. What had happened to her?

And why could she see in the dark?

She suddenly realized that she could see perfectly well in the night�s darkness as if it was daylight. Shadows showed her their contents and the full moon nearly blinded her, as if she was looking into the sun. She slowly got to her feet and cried out as stiffness cramped her legs painfully. She managed to stay on her feet as her oxygen starved limbs unknotted themselves. She took a few shuffling feet towards the front gate, grimacing.

When she could see the gate she rested in the shadow of a tree, some how comforted by the shadow that enveloped her. She knew that no one could see her but she felt as if she were part of the shadow now.

Two older teens passed by the high wrought iron. Something seemed to flex in Rogue�s mind, like a muscle flexing by reflex. Bright auras surrounded the teens, illuminating the night around them. Rogue didn�t notice that she had stopped breathing as she stared at the two passing by. The boy had a bright red aura around his bulky, football player frame. A sense of intense sexuality ran through Rogue when she looked at it. But that wasn�t the right word. She was looking into it. She felt that if she looked hard enough she could see right into him.

His arm was around the waist of a girl half his size whose aura was a shifting chaos of colors, shifting from a bright blue, to a deep red, and a dazzling yellow. Feelings and images flashed through Rogue�s mind and her very soul. A confusion of feelings like sadness, fear and sexual arousal reigned for a few seconds before she tore her eyes away and let the two pass. She heard their whispered conversation as they passed.

�Come on, no ones at my place,�

�I don�t know��

�Come on, everyone but us is doing it, I bet Stacy would do it��

Threat!

�I want to but I need time��

�I�ve waited so long��

The voices drifted away, leaving Rogue alone under her tree, feeling more confused then ever. She began to shamble towards the gate, getting one thought clear in her head. A chant that kept the growing hysteria at bay.

�Have to get home. Have to get home,� she breathed, forcing herself to walk.
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Rogue's Kiss