Rogue has been spending what spare time she can in the garage working on machines. The only vehicle in here she won't touch is Logan's motorcycle - he takes care of it himself and gets grumpy if she changes things on it without asking first.

She's tuned up most of the vehicles in the garage over the past few months. Right now, though, she's spending time beneath her Karmen Ghia. Her baby hasn't needed anything special but spending time with her car helps her ignore everything else. Ignore the fact that Piotr and Kitty are oh so very happy. Ignore the fact that she's re-applied for law school. Ignore the fact that she and Bobby.... Ignore the fact that she hasn't seen Remy in months. Ignore...

Well, she's ignoring a lot in bonding with her car.

Cars are simple and understandable.

And that includes sleeping.

The sun is up outisde her window and that normally helps keep away the worst of the dreams. Rogue has been dredging around in her mind, though. Trying to fix things means that sometimes you have to go through some bad things first, your mind has to do some digging before you can set about on the right path.
( This has not been a dream free rest. )

Logan didn't leave and she's glad. She's not going to tell him that. At least not outloud. She knows what it is like to want to just get out for awhile. She knows what it is like to need to get out for awhile. Even if it wasn't something in her make up, it is in enough of the others that it is something she'd understand.

But she's glad he didn't go.

If only everyone else would stay for awhile. She hasn't seen Remy in what feels like forever. Piotr's off on a mission with Kitty. Storm's back though. Rogue smiles at that thought. They should talk. She needs to talk to Jubilee too. And probably a lot of other people. Whenever someone leaves, she knows that a part of her holds its breath until they get back. A long, long time ago she learned that people don't always come back.

Even if the X-men seem to break that rule more than any group of people should.

Looking down at her arm, she sighs because her tan is almost faded and she doesn't know when she's going to really get the chance to get another one. Of course, she could just fly down to somewhere sunny and get another one. Maybe she should do that. Head down to Florida for awhile...

But later. Right now she's going to stay here and enjoy being home. She's going to do her best not to worry about people who aren't here and just relax. Slipping her headphones on, she picks up a book and encases herself in sound, letting the words ease her worries.

In between projects, which she's doing rather well, she thinks, Rogue makes a stop in her room. It is one of those moments, where she knows she meant to come in here for something specific and now that she's here, she can't remember at all was the hell it what she meant to get.

Standing there, she stares at her room blankly for a moment. Her eyes skim over the things here - the map on the wall, her collection of three stuffed animals, the sketchbook she'll eventually give back to Piotr... once she finishes marveling over the fact that those lines manage to make up her on the page.

Turning, she starts to walk toward the bed for a different angle on the room when her boot thunks against a box half shoved under her desk. Frowning, she reaches down to pick it up, as she does so realizing it is her last package from her Momma. No, it doesn't have her name on it or anything like that but Rogue always knows from the little things which packages are from her Momma and she hasn't opened them on principal.

Or something like that.

Settling down on the bed, she starts to open the box. On top are chocolates. Kinder Eggs and other fun things like that. Rogue smiles a little at that, remembering long summer days with Momma and Irene. She's somewhat ashamed at the wetness that starts to form at the corners of her eyes. The next thing she pulls out are pairs of elbow length gloves in different colors - mostly satin. There is a pair that is especially fine which Rogue smiles at knowing she only wants to use them for something special.

Peering into the box, Rogue moves some things aside, resolving to look at what they actually are later. There is a faint sound of annoyance at the condoms. As if, were she having sex, she couldn't get them for herself. Thanks, Momma, for believin' that yah hadn't raised a total idiot.

Getting to the bottom of the box, Rogue blinks for a few moments and frowns. Then she looks at the rest of the things that came in the box. It is like an odd math equation as she slowly puts it all together. It would be comical were someone here to see the awareness that lands on her face before she starts to close the box and slide it beneath her bed.

Standing up, she heads out of her room, closing the door. She needs to go grab another beer.

Rogue gets her mother settled in the care of Dr. McCoy and heads on her way. Yes, she has wounds that could be tended to but there are people who need much more medical attention than she does.

And honestly, people sewing her up is a pain in the ass for everyone involved. Invulnerability and her skin make things dicey. Instead, she's gotten used to taking care of herself and having others look her over to make sure that things are healing as they should.

First step is a shower. There is a lot of grime and salt and sand covering her. The water is a dingy grey as it slides down the drain beneath her. The hot water feels good and she almost falls asleep in the shower. She did sleep thanks to Jean on the way here but she's still tired. Still fatigued. Getting out of the shower, she slips into her nightgown.

It has faded pink bunnies on it. She doesn't wear it often because it has pink bunnies on it but today she needs the extra comfort. It is thick and comforting and warm. A quick stop in her room brings her to her bed but after a few moments of staring at it, she instead grabs her pillows and Flower and trudges further down the hall.

He's not here. He won't mind.

She isn't sure he'd mind if he were here but if he were, she wouldn't be doing this. He's not here. He's off... somewhere. She's mostly certain.

Still, there is some hesitation as she opens the door to Remy's room. It is sparse, as usual, but she's not looking for things. She's just looking for phantom comforts. She curls up around her pillows, putting her hair damp head on his and after a few minutes, she falls asleep, the stuffed skunk sitting by her head, watching over her.