All different voices and projections, separate tones from the same source. A heavy ricochet she couldn't stand. A painful cadence against her temples, a beat on a bass with a annoying accompaniment that never ended.

24/7.

All day, all night. During conversations, in the middle of meals, while she was asleep.

Why. How. Where. Who. You. Me. Memories. Pain. Nostalgia- not the good kind.

The thought shifted into a dark scene, not as unpleasant.

There was a jazzy sort of tune drifting away into the background, it origin still unformed in the landscape. A hazy crowd of people beckoned towards them all around, fuzzy and deeply colored trinkets and instruments were sprawled around in each individual little cubbyhole for all people the peruse.

She felt the vague touches to her side, soft and lulling at first as if to pull her into the display, show her the merchandise, that turned prickling and morbid.

Why. How. Where. Who...

Her body thrashed around and she could make out what could be assumed as restraints on her limbs, keeping her down.

Trapped.

She blinked. Pressure. Cold.

So much pressure. She couldn't shiver...maybe that was just more thrashing...because it was so cold.

Yes, cold. Cold and damp.

A horrifyingly freezing temperature that she thinks it supposed to be concerning splashes heavily onto her body, drenching her in a sticky liquid—sweat? No, too cold for swe-

Her thoughts and movements were jumbled as she rocketed forward, jumping as fast as she could off of the cold, metallic tray. No sympathy for the bed that had become a home over the past few years.

...Or a facsimile of one, at least.

Her eyes blinked open slightly being quickly shut as the florescent lights blinded her. Regaining her usual blurred sight, she tears at her arm in an attempt to get the long prickly needle from her flesh as soon as humanly possible.

She didn't exactly want to come back to the infirmary for ripping medicine from her body, did she?

No, sir.

Her eyes were still coated in a foggy sheen, unclear from the catnap—18 hours, give or take. Her ears, lagging light-years behind her body, were still stuck on the gasp that fell from her mouth the moment she had awoken.

She was forced to stop dead in her tracks, nearly being knocked back into unconsciousness as she did so. Her face was brutally rammed into a heavy boned body, she was rocked backwards into a chair—placed conveniently well. Most of the time she ends up tripping over it.-

Not two steps from the bed and she was already caught.

Must've been a new record.

It had become a habit of hers to run from the Med lab the second she realized where she was. Not that she tried to make a habit out of finding herself in situations where the Bay was needed, but...

Shit happens.

She gripped the edge of the bed and chair trying to steady herself as she landed haphazardly on the plastic furniture.

Ah, God. My butt.

"Hank," she whined. "You know I hate it down here...Why do you insis-"

"Sorry to disappoint." A scraggly voice rumbled from above her, soundly utterly insincere, "But I ain't Big Blue."

Big blu- Oh, Hank. A corner of her mouth twitched up, I guess it is kinda true.

"Oh," she blinked in confusion, green gaze fixated on a spot on the floor. "Does that mean I can go?"

"Not a chance, Stripes." He chuckled.

Stripes? Ugh.

She felt her eyes roll at his unoriginality, Rogue tore her stare from the ground to look to her 'guard' and nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

-Best place for it. A willowy voice chimed in her head, knocking her focus out of balance.

This time she attempted to convey the feeling of rolling her eyes in her head at the snarky psyche.

Back to the original dilemma.

Why is he here?!

Shaking her head to clear her it once again- she can vaguely remember having done it sometime earlier- she felt a foreign gaze on her face.

She picked at her blanched hair placing it subtly over her eyes so he couldn't tell she was watching him.

It was kind of awkward, she had to admit. She cringed lightly as her ears picked up the woman's tone again.

-Yeah, normally it's only you whose doing the staring.

Rogue felt her brows crease together in annoyance, huffing her hair inadvertently back in place leaving her expression of irritation in plain view.

Hush up, you old bat.

-Ha, this is how you treat your elders? I worry for you, child. The old woman's voice scoffed in her ear.

No, this is only how I treat you, Demitra.

-Don't I feel special.

A grin crept on Rogue's face. You bettah.

The conversation was put to a quick end as a rough flick hit the girl square on the head. Jerking her head upwards she glared, for what felt like the second time that day, at the burly man looking down at her.

Ow.

"What? Can't a girl have a conversation in peace?" She bit out at him.

He stood only two feet from her, just watching her in shock, thinking that this girl was clearly off her rocker to be yelling at him.

He couldn't help but be floored by her easy apathy towards him, it's like she doesn't even know who he is—the mercenary Wolverine. The King of the Cage.

Seeing her again make a face and appear to draw into herself in conversation he added onto his first thought.

Okay, so there's that, and the fact that she seemed to be having a rather engaging talk with herself.

There must be something wrong with her...

He felt the beast growl in disapproval of the statement.

Shut it, ya animal. I didn't ask for your two cents.

"Ah, Rogue." A frazzled Hank called. "How are you feeling?"

The staring contest got put on the back burner –for now- and their attentions were redirected to the doctor at the foot of the room making a hasty approach.

She shrugged, keeping an eye on the Wolverine next to her, "'Bout as good as I can be, Doc."

The blue man came over to examine her looking unsettled, tsking at the IV that was now dripping uselessly onto the floor. "At least turn it off next time."

She hid a smile, looking at him in false outrage, "'Next time'? You plannin' on me getting hurt a lot?"

He paused for a while in his fiddling with the IV drip, glancing to the floor trying to hide his face from her. Hank managed to compose himself just in time and still he drew back, gasping at the thought, "Of course not! Oh, my stars, I would never wish harm upon any of you." Hank shivered. "What horrible thing to sa-"

Hank cut off mid-sentence frowning at her smiling face. "This is no laughing matter, my dear."

Her shoulders rocked in suppressed laughter, a grin lighting up her face as she shook her head. "I'm joking, Hank. Breathe."

He gave her a chastising look, but she saw the small smile that threatened his stern expression before he turned away to get her some water.

Hank gave her the cup, kidding about how he wouldn't mind her stopping by more often, hurt or not.

"It's boring down here, Rogue. I need some fresh air sometimes. Any word from the surface?" He laughed with her, but she noticed that there was a certain tone to it that now worried her.

She stopped in her amusement to give him a concerned look, "You alright, Hank?"

He refused to meet her eyes as he replied his well-being.

He's hiding something...he's always a stickler for eye-contact.

A throat cleared nearby, jostling their attentions.

Logan stepped forward, a look of confusion juggling annoyance on his features as he walked up to them.

Rogue stopped the little plastic cup half way to her lips to face him dropping the problem with Hank for the time being. She raised an eyebrow in curiosity at him. Now of a clearer mind she thought of the words to ask her question, preventing him from beginning his rant. "Why are you here exactly?"

His shoulders tensed and his lip twitched into a grimace, "I'm kinda wondering the same thing."

With both similarly cocked brows and puzzled expressions the two turned to Hank, who was now across the room shuffling about nervously, trying to avoid the questions asked.

"Hank."

"But I-" He frowned to himself, "I don't think either of you will particularly like what I have to say."

"Hank, for God's sake, man. Spit it out."

He sighed, gazing solemnly to Rogue, conveying his apology before he had anything to be sorry for. Hank shook his head, determined now to get it over with, "Okay, well you see, Rogue, our big friend here seemed to have asked you your age last night." He didn't have to explain further. She'd get it.

Logan, on the other-hand, now had more questions, "Hold it, what does that have to do with anything?"

Understanding dawned in her eyes, "So the psyche's, I'm assuming as they always do, got a little too rowdy to answer him?" She expanded as if it answered for everything.

He nodded gently, almost afraid to continue, "Yes, but, you see. This time was different."

Rogue gave him a look as if to say 'What do you mean, different?'

Logan watched to two of them back and forth wondering just what the Hell secret code they were talking in.

Psyches? What are they and what do they have to do with what happened?

He tried to open his mouth to demand an explanation, feeling so out of the picture that he couldn't even find the frame anymore.

"He-" Logan started.

"I mean that..." Hank went on, not even seeming to notice Logan's attempt at his own clarification.

He was ignored...has he ever mentioned how much he hates to be ignored?

"You know how when they try for control, they usually settle soon after." At her nod, Hank continued hesitantly, all former doctor indifference lost. "This time, they didn't. Settle, I mean.

"They rampaged, I had to keep an eye on the brain monitor the entire time and they were unusually active for the majority of your time unconscious. They even managed to keep up their energy during the whole expedition. I'm not sure how, but it seems like they've found a way to siphon your energy—which is most likely what kept you out and them up."

Rogue slumped in her seat, blinking heavily at nothing, "So...what?" At his face of concern, it clicked. "They're...They're getting stronger?"

How did it get to this?

She couldn't help but to think of how the nightmare memories now brought physical pain and how the voices had gradually gotten louder...

-It's true. Demitra called out, sounding smug.

Hank squatted in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly as she reached a hand up to the side of her head in pain.

He didn't have to answer.

Meanwhile, a bitterly oblivious Logan just stood there, watching the exchange in disbelief.

So what? The girl fainted...they're blowing this whole thing way out of proportion.

Heeey, again. I'm back. Decided to try to draw up a storyline for this- warning, I'm no good at it, beware of plot holes- if you feel like anything is left too open and unanswered. Tell me. It helps.

I know weird chapter. It feels rushed to me...but understand that she and Hank have been going through these motions for a while now. Logan's the only one without a clue.

Ask me anything you don't understand- Dudes, and dudettes please.

If there's anything you guys would think would be cool to see, mention it. I'll see what I can do -Psst- greenskinned, this is how you help me get to that point of 'loooong story' -wink, wink-

I've realized that I'm not going to make this rely heavily on the movie plots-as many of you may have noticed- A lot of it will be explained...but for now-

-Scott's alive.

-Jean's, obviously, dead. Probably not coming back, I really hate her.

-The Prof. I'm debating...if you guys want him in here I'll save him, but if not...I can make either work.

Thank you to all of my beautiful reviewers, I love you all so much! So great, all of you. And my favorite-ers and followers, you all have my love.

So, you know what you should do? Continue with your love! Cause I need it...and you want to...you know you do.

Byee,

I-V