A short song-fiction inspired by Missy Higgins' "They Weren't There." Italicized are the song lyrics, of which I own nothing.
Post X-3, Rogue's POV. X-Men copyright Marvel Comics. Used without permission, no intent to sell.
You breathed infinity into my world
and time was lost up in a cloud and in a whirl.
We dug a hole in the cool gray earth and lay there for the night.
I watch the horizon, searching for the silhouette that I know would not appear. My arms tense as a cold gust of wind hits me, its cold and bitter nips causing the hair on my skin to rise, even through the heavy coat.
I turn my head down, letting my chin nestle in the heavy scarf wrapped around my neck. My attention settles to the heavy oak tree in front of me.
It's funny how such ordinary objects can become so iconic in their meaning. Memories of a life that seemed forever ago but with emotions that felt as strong as the day they were formed: their essence was now a part of this old tree, barren and buried beneath a foot of crisp snow.
A hand comes to rest on my shoulder.
Then you said, "Wait for me, we'll fly the wind;
we'll grow old and you'll be stronger without him."
Words are exchanged, curt and icy like the weather around us. He leaves me, throwing his hands into his coat frustratingly as he makes his way back to the car.
My eyes travel back to the oak tree. I know I am waiting for something the tree could never provide—that no one could ever provide—and yet my feet remain cemented to the ground. My stillness allows the numbness of the cold to seep and burn through my skin, despite the heavy garments I'm wearing.
I ignore it.
But oh, now my world is at your feet.
I was lost and I was found,
but I was alive and now I've drowned.
He and I had been planning to leave, but I had to say goodbye. Everyone expected forward motion; progress. But I could only look back, waiting for the day that time itself would rewind and I could feel truly happy again.
Years ago everyone had also expected that our relationship was doomed from the start. A classic failure that had started with an innocent crush.
But they hadn't known the connection. You're in my head; you've always been a part of me. And I had always been more grown and mature then they could ever see through the facade of age. What are years when you have had the thoughts of a Holocaust survivor haunt you nightly? How can age label my understanding of the world when, inside my head, the thoughts and memories of full grown men deflower me in every way possible?
No, they didn't know. They never would.
So now I will be waiting for the world to hear my song
so they can tell me I was wrong...
It had started by the oak tree. Stumbling across one another when we both had had a nightmare—yours. It was innocent, finding comfort in one another. You, speaking of your missing past; me, telling you what it felt like to have another entity inside my head.
We understood each other so well. I confided in you about taking the Cure, and you told me the guilt you had over killing her.
What we had had never been out of pity, or loneliness. Not even desperation. It had been so much more than that.
It didn't take long until we were seeking each other out, waiting by the oak tree in the warm summer nights. After a long but intimate conversation we would part ways, turning in before dawn but with every intention of returning the next night.
Eventually, however, we stopped parting and you led me to your room.
I wasn't young in my head, but I had yet to experience the feelings you gave me that first night. I had been an outcast that hurt others, and with the Cure I became the outcast that had given into fear and desperation.
You showed me that I was human. I made you realize that you weren't an animal. Together we made the world swallow its tongue. It was never awkward or hesitant.
It had been right. And I hadn't wanted to say no.
You sighed and I was lost in you,
Weeks could've past for all I knew.
You were the blanket of the over-world and so I couldn't say,
I wouldn't say no.
Our relationship was never a secret, but the oak tree remained our meeting place. I think a piece of our souls mended there, so that when we were away a part of us was left there, waiting. And each night we sought out that missing piece.
But they all said, "You're too young to even know,
just don't let it grow and you'll be stronger without him."
I wasn't as young and innocent as they had thought I was. You weren't the beast they made you out to be.
We had ignored their disapproval.
But oh, now, my world is at your feet.
The howl of wind brings me back to the present and I look towards it, letting it whip my hair away from my face. A few yards away stand three well-known headstones.
You, however, wanted the oak tree as your marker.
I was lost and I was found,
but I was alive and now I've drowned.
You could have possibly lived forever. But now you lay six feet under the earth, further hidden by a blanket of white. There is no indication that a fourth grave exists here; those who ultimately killed you would want your body.
The Cure was my freedom. It was your suicide.
So now I will be waiting for the world to hear my song
so they can tell me I was wrong...
They had finally captured you, using me as bait. We should have run away together months before it had happened, if not for our stubbornness. You felt obligated to be a part of the team, and I ... I was where you were. I wasn't of any help to them after the Cure.
Not then, anyway.
We had wanted them to understand us, too. To accept us as us. I think we were getting close—right before I was taken outside of the school grounds. I was alone and stupid enough to believe I was useless to everyone after the Cure. I had let my guard down.
To them, however, I was only bread crumbs, leading to them what they really wanted: Weapon X.
I was powerless to stop it when you allowed them to trade me for you.
But they weren't there beneath your stare
I saw you briefly as they led you away, your arms voluntarily handcuffed with adamantium chains. Your eyes held love, and I had sentenced you to your death.
They had abandoned me on a deserted road hundreds of miles away from you. But they had underestimated us. They hadn't known another telepath was on our team.
I had mentally cried for her, as we'd all been taught with the professor. She had used Cerebro to find you again.
It hadn't been long. A week, maybe.
And they weren't stripped 'til they were bare
They had tortured you long ago, given you those claws of indestructible metal. When they took you again, their plans had been to wipe your memory and reassert their control over you.
You were their perfect soldier. They had been determined to save their millions of dollars of research.
But the fear of losing your memory had sunk you.
When we finally found you again ... you were dying.
You had given yourself the Cure.
Without your healing ability the metal around your bones began to poison you.
But they weren't there beneath your stare
A car honks in the distance, startling me. He is waiting for me.
And they weren't stripped 'til they were bare
It's been years. They all expect me to move on. I've pretended to.
With him, at least.
Of any bindings from the world outside that room.
Where we first made love was where you died. I haven't been able to step foot in there since.
And they weren't taken by the hand
You had apologized to me. You had told me what had happened, and why you did what you did.
And led through fields of naked land
You left me because of me.
I pull my hand out of its glove, bringing my exposed fingers to rest on the trunk. Even through the layer of ice I can still feel the small letter "L" carved into its thick bark. It is the only indication of a history I wish were my present and future.
I take a step back, my hand falling away from the tree. I know I have to leave.
It's for the best.
Where any pre-conceived ideas were blown away...
I turn and walk towards the car that's idling and waiting for me. Along with him. Along with a new life. This will make me stronger, they say.
But they don't know.
They weren't there.