Disclaimer: X-Men aren't mine. I offered my brother for Rogue, but Marvel said no… sigh

Ok, I am SO sorry you guys! I promised some of you to have Chap 2 out… er… a long time ago. But I got caught up in all those end of grading term projects. Actually, I'm still caught up, but I decided I needed to work just a LITTLE bit on this story or else people will think I abandoned it.

Which I actually almost did.

You see, I sat down to write Chap 2, got half-way through, and then I realized that I didn't like where the story was going. AT ALL. My brain lied to me when it said I had it all planned out.

I considered starting over completely, but then decided against that. So I then decided to keep chap 1 as kind of a prologue, and move on to 2 with a new direction.

Which I am doing now.

So here I am presenting, The New and Improved, Redirected, CHAPTER 2!!!!


It was dark.

But not pitch dark.

There was a dim light illuminating the room, but for the life of her she could not figure out where it was coming from.

The cement-walled cube of a room seemed to be cast in a pale blue light, but there were no windows. The lights were off under the crack of the metal plated door.

It was dark.

But not pitch dark.

Rogue shifted where she lay, her knees bent and fingers curled in front of her face.

She let her mind wander.

Big mistake.

How long had she been here again? The last that she could remember…

Remember. The word struck a chord deep inside of her.

She remembered waking up in that dismal white cell with the glass. She remembered Evan's voice. She remembered Logan. She remembered those splotches of red cast on the white like a twisted attempt at abstract art.

She remembered Evan being dragged out of his cell by a noose around his neck. She remembered them poking and prodding him, yanking out his spikes like dentists pulling a child's teeth and putting them back again. She remembered the muted screams.

And then she remembered them coming for her, Opening the door to her cell. She remembered lashing out, clawing, hitting, punching, slapping, kicking, kneeing, elbowing, anything she could do to hurt them. Hurt someone.

And then she touched one. Then another. And another. They fell like flies. She ran. Straight to Evan's cell, but he was unconscious. He couldn't help her. She couldn't find his door, so she had to leave him. And Blob. She would come back for them. Now, she had to get out. There wasn't much time. She would come back.

So then she ran. Hard and fast, down one corridor and then another. She took random turns, having no idea where they would take her. And then the shouting. The footsteps. She pounded down the hall, faster, faster, faster. Breath. Heartbeat. Breath.

And then the footsteps were too close, and her world went dark with a crack.

And she woke up here, in a modified hospital gown with sleeves and a back.

It was dark.

But not pitch dark.

She'd only been out once since, and that wasn't pleasant.

Remember. Another strum.

She remembered how tense she had been at the approaching footsteps that day. Friend, or foe?

Turned out to be foe.

Unfortunately, they had learned from last time.They were covered from head to toe, absolutely no bare inch of skin that she could possibly get a hold of. Not that she didn't try, of course.

But the were prepared for that one too, and they knocked her hard with one of those batons police guards have. She didn't remember much of what happened next. She vaguely recalled passing through grey hall after grey hall, not remembering to note the turns, passing a door with a small barred opening with low growls emitting from it. Logan? She had managed a gurgle. There was no response.

Then her memory started to clear a little. The white room.

They brought her through The Door to the white room where she had first woken up, and she spotted Evan pacing in his cell and Blob on the floor in his. Her old cell, in the middle of theirs, was empty. Immediately Evan leapt at the glass and started yelling, but she had only caught the beginning of her name before those little circles closed up again and it was silent.

Damn it her head hurt.

She could barely think enough to struggle, and even then she only managed a twitch here and there. Blood trickled into her eye.

And then she was laid on the table.

It was already tarnished with blood, and she had imagined hers was soon to follow.

They latched on the shackles, but they might as well not, she had thought, because she couldn't think straight enough to contemplate escape.

And then the scientists came in.

This time it was only two of them, already equipped with gloves and apparently already clean-handed (or as close as people like them could get) as they moved straight towards her. Her vision swam and her head pounded.

She lightly pulled on the shackles, but knew it would do no good.

And as he pulled out the scalpel, she tried her hardest to clench her eyes shut and block it all out.

Didn't quite work out.

She remembered the pain. The sticky feel of her blood running down her arms, her legs, her face. The sting of the blade. The blazing hot fire of open wounds.

The seeping, thick, sludge of violation she felt when she realized how intimately they were exploring her body.

She was swimming.

They had sliced off her skin. Everywhere, it seemed. She couldn't tell. It all burned.

And the blood. They would have to build an Ark soon if they didn't fancy drowing.

When she felt she was just about ready to give up, she felt them cleaning up. They were sloppily wiping off the blood with towels and lazily slapping on bandages. For being surgeons, they seemed to not know basic first-aid. Or maybe they just didn't care.

Well, they cared enough to keep her alive. For more testing, at least.

And then she was being lifted. Back to her cell, she supposed. As she moved upright, the blood rushed to fill the lower regions of her body, and left her brain. She was pretty sure she passed out there for a second. Couldn't even tell.

She never even opened her eyes.

And soon she heard The Door shut behind her, and she was back in the hall again. She hung limp and voluntarily blind from the men's grasp, feet dragging across the cold, hard floor.

She only opened her eyes when a voice penetrated her pain.

"Stripes?" Wolverine. Logan.

She barely lifted her head, opened her right eye a crack, and saw his concerned hazel eyes gazing softly at her through the bars of the small window situated high in the door. She could imagine how she looked with how his eyes widened at her.

They were suddenly hard.

And then he let out a vicious roar, followed by a loud SNIKT!

The guards all but ran down the rest of the hall with her in tow, but she could hear the Wolverine's anger echoing behind her.


She shook herself, it was easier not to remember.

But she looked at her body anyway. The stiff, blood-soaked bandages still adorned her limbs. There was a small one on her right cheek, a rather large one covering most of her right thigh, one smothering her left calve, another on the inside of her right bicep, and a long, thin one on the inside of her left forearm. It seemed like they wanted a sample from everywhere. She dared not to peel them off, but she could tell they had stopped bleeding.

She sighed, then winced as she slowly turned to lay on her other side, facing the door, and began to count the scratches on the floor.

One. That was a baton clattering across the cement.

Three. That's a scrape of a gun, sliding over the floor.

Five. Those are fingernails.

It was dark.

But not pitch dark.

Well, guys, hope y'all liked it!

Oooo it's 9:11.

So, PLEASE REVIEW!!! And if I don't update anytime soon, PLEASE pm me or review and tell me to get my ass in gear and update already, because I need the encouragement.

By the way, if you happen to have any information on Cote D'Ivoire or the Ivory Coast in Africa, I'm doing a project on it and could use the help, so pm me if you want to help.

Reccomended Songs:

The Big Fight - Stars

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead – Stars

The First Five Times – Stars

The Very Thing – Stars

Just check out Stars, basically.