Ah, a Movie!Mortie story...something nice and normal...or whatever romantic fanfiction really is. Anyay, Rogue/Toad fanfiction again, but I think it works nicely in the Movie-verse. In fact, there's a yahoo-group for it, though Lord knows it hasn't been posted on in a while. Shame. I guess I should mention that this was probably inspired by the fanfics "A Little Understanding" and "A Sticky Situation." Last one was, kinda, too. I'll go edit that.
Before we begin, a moment of silence, please, for Hank McCoy of the Ultimat X-men universe. Definately my favorite incarnation of the lovable blue furball.

There. I feel better.
X-men is (c) Marvel. Not mine.

"Lunch time, gel." Rogue started as her cell door slid open and one of her captors, a short, lean young man, walked in and set down a plate of food on the foot of her cot. She looked up fearfully from the corner where she was huddling in a little ball. He was the first person she'd seen since her kidnaping. As he was walking out, she found her voice.

"Wh-why ah y'all doin' this?" Her captor half-turned in the doorway and glanced at her, a bored eyebrow raised, as if to say "That's for us to know and you to find out."

"Y'gonna eat that or not? 'Cos it'll probably be the last meal y'get." Rogue's heart plummeted at his wording.

"What's that's s'posed ta mean? Ah y'all gonna kill me?" The young man's gaze flattened and slid away from her for a moment--he looked uncomfortable-- then he looked back at her with his mouth set in a firm, disapproving line without speaking. Rogue felt something drain out of her as the numb realization hit--she was going to die. With a quick sigh, the man left the room. She heard the key click in the lock with an ominous finality. Just as the smell of meat wafted up to her, making her stomach growl --a glance down showed her a hamburger and fries on her plate, a homey meal that seemed humorously inappropriate for her situation-- the beginnings of a plan popped into her head.

"Hey. Hey, wait!" She ran to the door and craned her neck, trying to see down the dark hallway. The man stopped, but did not turn.

"What?" He sounded irritable.

"I can't eat this," she began, nervously.

"Oh please," she heard him mutter under her breath. She could practically see his eyes searching skyward for patience. Determined, she went on.

"No, really. I'm...I'm a vegetarian." She tried to sound as ditzy as possible, since only a complete moron would be asking terrorists for a salad. "I mean...if you're really gonna...gonna..." She stopped and bit her lip. Even just acting, she couldn't say it. "Well, can't I at least have a last meal I can eat?" After a pause, she heard him sigh and saw him run a hand through his spiky hair.

"Right, fine. I'll see if I can find you somefin' ta eat, Princess. Anyfin' else yer 'ighness might want?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.

"Well, ya could let me outta here," she muttered and heard a quick bark of laughter from the man.

"Heh, nice try." With that, he walked away. Rogue sat next to her cell door listening to his footsteps disappearing down the hallway, and slowly pulled off her gloves.

"Right, Princess, one salad, courtesy Mystique. Don't expect no more favo--hey!" As the man re-entered the room, this time bearing a large bowl filled with lettuce, Rogue sprang at him and grabbed a hand. Finding a glove, or part of one, covering most of the skin, she yanked him down and pressed her other hand to his face, ruthlessly willing her power and curse to drain him dry.

And then the images came.

Flashes of memory, much better kept, much clearer than Logan's, invading her head and making themselves hers. Toad. She was--no, he was Toad, Mortimer Toynbee, a name that had long ago been thrown away. Toad. A lifetime of abuse and pain seemed to force itself on her all at once and she couldn't let go. She couldn't even tell which of them she was, whether it was her hand on her own cheek, damp with unwilling tears, that she was trying to dislodge or--

In a haze of pain, Toad managed to grab her wrists and shove her off of him. He stood there in shock, hearing his own breathing rasping shakily in his ears. He shut his eyes tightly and blindly sought for support. His groping hand found the cold stone wall and he sagged against it tiredly. His body was nothing but pain and exhaustion--briefly, he recalled having the flu. It was similar. But even the aching in his chest was nothing compared to the old memories dredged up by the girl's touch. As he fought to control his breathing, his initial shock gave way to rage.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he roared, standing up and looming over the girl where she lay, shaking, on the ground.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." she whispered, holding herself and rubbing her arms, as if trying to get warm. Toad's eyes flared.

"Oh, you bet you're bloody sorry, you little bi--" He stopped as he actually heard what she was saying.

"He's not breathin'. He's not...Why's his face look like that? I didn't mean to...I just...I was just so cold..." Toad's breath caught and he eyed the girl with a new kind of unease. "I didn't mean to kill him..." she barely choked out. Toad bit his lip.

"Who didn't you mean to kill?" he asked carefully. Rogue looked up at him, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her eyes were glowing slightly, a damp, burnished gold, and Toad knew he didn't want to hear the answer.

"The man with the coat," she whispered. "I didn't mean to kill him, I just wanted his coat. I'm so cold... And then this stuff came out of my mouth, and I didn't know what to do, and--"

"Shut up," Toad hissed through clenched teeth. He gabbed her by the collar and shook her once, hard. "Shut up! Y'don't 'ave any right...Get out o' my memories!" Slowly, the gold faded from Rogue's gaze and her eyes darted around the room, lost and frightened.

"I--" she hiccupped as a new wave of sobs came. The look Toad gave her was one of such seething hatred that she recoiled as if burned. With a furious snarl he threw her to the ground, where she stayed, not daring to raise her head, even as the door slammed and the lock clicked.

Toad didn't even have the strength to leave the hall. He sank down beside the door and buried his head in his hands, trying to chase away old ghosts and demons, unearthed by her touch, that had returned to haunt him.

When Rogue finally did have the courage to look up, Toad was long gone. A bowl lay on it's side next to the door, lettuce and croutons scattered around the small room. The hamburger, now icy cold, still sat on the bed. She wasn't very hungry.