Title: Bad Blood
Series: Gradually Tainted
Author: Autumn
E-mail: autumnleaves@autumnpenguins.com
Summary: Marie's living life on her own terms, but in a way she never expected. The sequel to Not What You Thought It Would Be
Category: Horror, Drama
Rating: R language, violence, images that may disturb the minds of the impressionable
Archive: DH, APE
Author's Notes: This rather vicious rabbit was nipping at my heels in June, and I'd plotted it just a little bit then promptly forgot about it. Come March, I found the beginnings of the story in a notebook and the nasty bugger attacked with a vengeance. And then in a coffee induced sugar high, 'Not What You Thought it Would Be' popped out as the PERFECT lead-in, so here we are;) though I should add, that its not strictly necessary to read the fist story
The origins of this story have their roots in the Stone Temple Pilots song 'Creep.'
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Pavmire, New Hampshire
"Take time with a wounded hand cause it likes to heal. Take time with a wounded hand, cause it likes to steal." The soft voice singing along with the local Alternative station blasting Stone Temple Pilots belonged to a young woman who by all intents and purposes was the girl next door. Her eyes were brown, her skin was pale, and her hair was brown. True, she did have two odd looking white streaks in her hair, but kids these days wore the wildest things in their hair so it wasn't cause for concern. The woman also was always dressed from head to toe, but it could, as easily be a religious thing as a personal eccentricity.
The young woman's name was also a tad odd to natives of the small community, but they simply figured her parents had been hippies. Who else would name their child Rogue? It simply wasn't done. Rogue didn't mind the speculation about her. In the two months since she'd moved from Westchester, she'd assimilated herself into town life and found life to be quite pleasing. Nobody knew her past here, nobody knew her secrets, and most important, nobody knew she was a mutant.
Rogue wasn't ashamed of being a mutant, but she admitted, if only to herself that she loved being able to walk down a street without people giving her a wide berth, fearing for their lives. Another important item on her list was that nobody knew about Logan. To Rogue this was an all-important factor. She'd grown sick of people speculating about a relationship that had never gone anywhere, no matter how much she'd longed for it. She'd thought about Logan every day for two years. It had started with a teenage crush, but had evolved into much more. And the kicker was that she knew Logan at least had some feelings for her.
But that was all in the past. She was here to focus on the present. And at the moment the present included beautifying corpses for their upcoming burials. True, it wasn't exactly a traditional job, but it was one that Rogue rather enjoyed. A year on the X-Men team had desensitized her to death and bodies, having broken up several FOA meetings that got ugly; Rogue was no stranger to death. It was a peaceful working environment, as she worked mostly night hours, and was frequently the only person down in the basement for long periods of time. Another fringe benefit of her place of employment was that she could take her gloves off.
Her skin was still deadly, but only affected living things. She acknowledged to herself that she relished the chance to enjoy the tactile sensations that only skin on skin could bring. True, it was with the dearly departed, but it was better than nothing to a person who'd been deprived of that kind of contact for almost four years. Rogue had yet to venture out into the community's nightlife, but she was content. She owned a small house, she was independent and she was unknown. It was all she could ask of life. Now, if only she could forget about Logan. She'd moved from New York, now it was time to move on.
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Elsewhere in Pavmire…………..
A young pair of dark clad people stood in the shadows of the local undertaker's. The man had short black hair, pale green eyes and pale white skin. His shoulders were wide, and his body lithe. The woman was the color of midnight with scarlet streaked hair and deep, blue eyes. She was only an inch or two shorter than her companion. The couple
"Are you sure its her?" The woman asked?
"Yeah, we followed her last night. Its her." The man answered, never taking his eyes off the young woman in the window.
"What if she says no?"
"She won't. She's about the loneliest person I've ever seen. I can give her something to take that away. Besides, we can always make up her mind for her."
"That's true Steffon, but you know that she has to be willing for the transfer to work."
"Angie baby it'll work." Steffon said, bending to kiss his beloved.
"Alright then, lets get this thing going." Angie whispered, a light glowing in her eyes.
She pulled a small vial of liquid from her jacket and poured it into her own mouth. Angie kissed Steffon he slid his tongue into hers, transferring the substance to his own.
"You've just done enough crack to kill a baby elephant." Angie smiled.
"Let's get me ready for my funeral then." Steffon replied, a smile on his face.
Angie nodded and the two took off hand in hand. They strolled off into the darkness, unnoticed by the world around them.