Title: Little Things That Kill
Fandom: X-Men
Author: GirlAnime
Summary: Sometimes saying nothing at all can be worse than the harshest slight.
Rating: General
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Rogue/Remy
Warnings: It helps if you've read/know about the Antarctica thing. What I'm referencing comes from the Gambit 1999 Annual special.
Author's Notes: A BIG thanks to luciademedici for helping me flesh out my X-Menology. Also, I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I may have made. I only wish I would've taken more English classes. This was meant to be a little on the morbid side but I'm not sure I've gotten it so ragged as to deserve a darkfic rating or anything. :/ And yes, yes I did take the name from a Bush song so nyyaaah:P Oh, and reviews are nice like candy. I like candy.
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to their respective owners (which I'm pretty sure has to be Marvel and not me).
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Little Things That Kill
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"I know."
It was all he had said; all he needed to say.
Nothing more had been said on the matter, not then and not since.
"I know."
With only two words Remy had crushed the awkward, invisible distance between them and it felt, almost, refreshing. Almost.
After embracing her for a short time, he lifted her chin up by two of his only four glove-covered digits and gazed into her eyes.
His gaze was piercing and poignant. It was a knowing stare and Rogue did not miss his cue that the subject was to not be broached again—not by him, not by her.
"I know."
Still, there was an underlying current beneath the words, something unseen. It made it's presence known like a lumbering, overhanging responsibility. Like clothing that fit tighter than it used to, the situation still felt as if the seams were close to splitting.
A wound, still bloodied and exposed but with hasty and premature stitches.
An infection could spread if one wasn't careful.
"I know."
It was the only salve he had allowed for himself and for her. Purposefully.
The pain was still there. All the hurt, all the betrayal, and all the insecurity remained but was now glossed over with the hope of new beginnings from deep mutual trespasses. A familiar varnish that very seldom lingered for any amount of substantial time and fooled those who were new to the game.
However, neither Rogue nor Gambit were new to the game of betrayal.
A man who was a self-made Brutus. A woman whose every touch was like a Judas kiss.
"I know."
Two words was all it took to seal them both in their misery. Together.