riverviewlogs | I will burn your kingdom down...

who: Remy & Rogue
what: Sickness and feels. Rogue's recovering and it's comatimes for Cajun.
when: Mid May.
where: Remy's floor/bunk in communal housing.
warnings: Sickness talk. Possible language.

The nanites had hit Rogue slow and steady from the beginning, the symptoms manifesting much like the flu mixed with Terrigen mist poisoning, which was something the mutant had managed to live with for quite sometime back home before they were able to develop a cure of sorts. Hell, she couldn't really tell if she were on the mend or getting worse, but many others were falling severely ill at alarming rates.

With super soldiers and gods falling victim to what seem to be a mix of magic and tiny tech that appears to be affecting everyone differently, she's terribly worried for her people. The most important of those people will always be Remy. No matter what level of complication or non-romance they were at, Rogue would love and look after him as best she could. She had his back to the end. Why else would she wear a ridiculous looking
sterile face mask when she visited the other mutant?

To avoid unnecessarily contaminating internal surfaces in the communal housing areas, she arrived via flying up to their outdoor area and carefully walked inside, peering around for Remy, checking the kitchen first before heading towards his bunk. She came with a bag of supplies to actually doctor him should the need arise, but she hoped for this to merely be a social visit where she could attempt to lift his spirits a bit regardless.]

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The exhale that was relative relief at his movement could probably be felt against his skin even through her mask, a genuine smile curling at her lips, eyes brightening against the heaviness of worry in her features. Her hand on his forehead smoothed comfortingly into his hair, pushing it from his face with care, the gesture as much for her as it was for him.

"There's mah favorite swamp rat." She murmured softly, not wanting to speak too loudly in case he had a headache. It looked like he had nearly every terrible symptom the nanites could produce, and she wasn't about to let him slip further. All their issues fell away in her mind. Nothing mattered right now but his health. "How long you been like this?"

Not wanting to lose contact with him, she used the hand now finished taking his pulse (not good) and grabbed the bag she'd brought with her, unzipping it and immediately pulling out supplies and stacking them on the bed with them. "You trust me to get an IV goin' sugah?"

Her words wormed their way into his sluggish mind, a question. They connected with his ideas of what the words meant slowly, as though they were burrowing through a thick putty, which he assumed they were. It wasn't until she'd asked that question that question that he realized he didn't quite have the answer. The licked his lips, dry as they were and smiled tiredly at her note of affection.

"Been here de whole time, cher." But the question, he reminded himself, as he enjoyed the feel of her fingers through his hair. Somewhere, in a disjointed thought process, he knew her fingers were clad in gloves, but it didn't matter. She was here. That's what mattered. "Uh...couple days, maybe..." he'd lost track of time. His brown furrowed, though, in confused and slight concern. Was he that bad off?

Actually. Yeah. He felt that bad. He nodded at her question, licking his lips again. "'course. Ain't the first IV you set up, Rogue." And I trust you, he thought but didn't add.

"You don't look good sugah." She couldn't mask the lines of concern that deepened as he struggled to answer, and she immediately gets to work setting up an IV, wiping down his arm with an alcohol swab after switching her daily wear gloves form latex ones. It's quick work considering how dehydrated he was, but as he said, Rogue's done this many times previous. Still, the mutant has to forcefully relax as best she could manage with him looking like death warmed over.

Once she had the needle and line taped down, she 'hung' the bag on his headboard carefully before switching gloves again. Some further rummaging through the bag and she brought out a chilled, wet wash cloth from a ziplock bag of ice, wringing it out slightly before laying it gently across his forehead. Carefully, she pulled herself further onto the bed, bending the knee closest to him onto the bed so that there was more contact as she resumed smoothing her fingers through his hair, massaging his skull.

Rogue wanted to tell him he should have called her days ago, that she would have been there faster than he could drop a French pet name at her, but she didn't have the heart to chastise him. Besides, the past was the past and she needed to focus on helping him now. "Anythin' you need ah got you. Even if it means draggin' your fine ass to the hospital."

She gave him a slight grin, trying to raise his spirits while her mind raced with prayers. Please let the fever break. Please let him get better and not worse. He was one of the strongest people she knew. He could handle a bit of nanite sickness, right?

Past all the pain, all the mistrust, all the betrayal and heartache, this was what Remy lived for, that love in her eyes, not colored by anything he'd done, or anything he'd failed to do. Just her, there, for him, with him, through whatever the work decided it wanted to throw at him. If she could love him, accept him, through everything, then it didn't matter what the rest of the world thought. All that mattered was them, and if they were good, the world could burn and they'd still be alright.

It felt like his world was burning, come to think of it. He didn't pay attention as the strung the bag, but he did when she slid against him, when her fingers moved through his hair. Those were the things that mattered. This mattered.

He didn't notice how hoarse he sounded, or weak, but he needed to speak his affirmation regardless, and he accented it with a slight nod of his head.

"Oui, mon coeur. I know."

It's in these moments that Rogue felt right, even scared as hell for his health.
She's not overthinking, not finding reasons that they won't work beyond friendship, or deciding that the time just wasn't right. Non, she's just existing with him in the moment, the walls and barriers to her ever-present love obliterated in the face of this very serious situation.

She could handle the world burning, so long as he didn't burn with it.

He hadn't flirted or bantered back at her 'fine ass' comment, and that gave her serious pause. That and the heat of his fever radiated fiercely from him, worrying her further, and acting on instinct, she leaned forward and pressed her her forehead to his after flipping the wash cloth so that he has the colder side still. Her eyes stayed open for a length, finding his and losing herself in them. She smiled fondly through the mask while mustering every ounce of positive thought and love she had inside her. What else could she do?

"If I could touch you and take it..." Rogue trailed off, her voice having already been a soft murmur, her breath shaking as she exhaled and pulled back, gaze slipping to his lips as she considered the option. But her power didn't work like that, she knew. Touching him would likely put him in the coma they were trying to avoid, and she'd never forgive herself if she did that.

As she spoke, the longer she did so, the more comfortable he because. There was a deep haze pressing in at the edges of his mind, urging him to give in, to let sleep take him, to be away from the aching, from the burning breathing caused in his throat, from the growing pounding in his head. Lord but it was tempting to just give in to it, to let sleep take him and be free from this torment, but there she was, loving him, being all he dreamed she would be...

...and then saying that. A frown creased his brow as he shook his head, or at least made an effort to. The muscles didn't seem to want to respond to his urging. "Don't...don't..." say things like that, he wanted to finish, but the words wouldn't come. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and his mind just as coarse.

On one hand, Rogue wanted him to rest, but on the other, she worried that he'd fall asleep and never wake up, something that's been happening with those infected by the nanites.

He started to protest and she shook her head. They both would sacrifice themselves to save the other at this point she's certain, but she'd prefer for the situation to not reach such levels. Without getting caught in her thoughts, Rogue closed the distance and pressed her lips to his, the mask she wore providing a barrier. It's every bit as emotional as she expected, her eyes closing as she failed to fight back tears. Maybe she shouldn't have done it, but given the circumstances and her heart, it felt right.

I will burn your kingdom down...

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