Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men unfortunately, they are the property
Marvel. The song Mississippi is by the band Train.
Author's Notes: This is my first ever attempt at an X-men story so I'll understand if you all think it's rubbish. It's sort of an alternate reality thing, my idea of what some of the x-men would be like in our world. It's based around the song Mississippi by Train, the story just sort of appeared as I listened to the song and refused to go away until I wrote it.
Mississippi
They call her Mississippi But she don't flow to me Spends her light on the Bayou
But she don't come to see She's the one that makes my dreams
They call her Mississippi But she don't flow to me
The Louisiana summer day was characteristically hot and humid. The heat hung heavy in the air making the day still and dead. Anyone who ventured outside found themselves coated in a thin layer of perspiration within minutes. It was definitely not a day to be driving especially in a car with a broken air conditioner. He thumped the dashboard above the a/c hoping against hope that the miracle would happen.
It didn't. He sighed and tried to concentrate once again on his driving. It would pick today of all days to start acting up. He'd already put off his visit home for far too long and he had the feeling he may have used the broken air conditioning excuse before and they would remember that. They probably kept a catalogue of his excuses just waiting for the day he'd screw up and use the same one twice. He didn't understand why it mattered to him; he was a grown man for God's sake he shouldn't have to make up excuses for not visiting his parents. If he didn't want to he didn't want to.
His gaze fell on the woman dozing peacefully beside him. A lock of her brown hair clung to her face and he could see the gleam of sweat across her forehead and down her neck. She was curled into a very peculiar position made all the more uncomfortable looking by the seatbelt she wore; yet she looked perfectly at ease. He couldn't understand how she could manage it.
Then there was a lot about his on-and-off again girlfriend he didn't understand. Maybe if he understood her their relationship would be better. He didn't really want to start thinking about it right then. They were in the early stages of an on again period, which meant things would be good between them for another month or so. When things went sour again, when one of them let their eye start to wander then he'd start thinking about why their relationship always seemed to falter and eventually fall.
She moved suddenly and mumbled in her sleep. He wondered what she was dreaming about, if he played a part in her dreams. It was probably not the best thing to wonder about considering his own dreams. He didn't think he'd ever actually dreamed about her, fantasised about her sure, dreamed about her, no. Someone else entirely ruled his dream world and had done for a long time now. Someone he could never be with in the waking world became his everything in his sleep and only in his sleep. There had been a time, a chance but he had let it pass him by and now that chance, that dream flowed further and further from him.
The shape of her horizon Makes the morning sun
When she puts her eyes on Each and anyone
She's the one that makes me fall Midnight moon shines through it all
It was late in the afternoon when they finally pulled into his parents' yard. The heat hadn't receded any and it was silent and still as if everything was poised in anticipation, waiting for something to happen. When he stepped out of the car he felt sticky and grimy. The palms of his hands were slick with sweat and he wiped them on his jeans. Marie had woken up and was incredibly cranky. She'd complained non-stop about the heat and the crick in her neck she'd developed from sleeping awkwardly. He'd reminded her that she was the one who'd insisted on coming and that he had wanted he to stay at home. That had just sent her into a huff; it looked like the honeymoon period was over even earlier than usual.
He began to collect their luggage swatting away a couple of mosquitoes that were intent on making him their next meal. It was only after he had lugged all the bags to the porch that he noticed the black clouds on the horizon. He smiled softly maybe the weather would break soon and they'd get some relief from the endless heat.
His mother had been cooking dinner when they'd arrived but as soon as she heard them on the porch she rushed out to greet them. It had only been six months since he'd seen her last but it seemed to him she'd gotten much older and when he hugged her she felt much thinner and frailer in his arms.
His father's greeting wasn't exactly the Bible version of the return of the prodigal son but he had gotten a hello that in terms of his father was pretty close to a fattened calf. He had also gotten a raised eyebrow when he saw him put both sets of bags in the same room. He was pretty sure his father was going to say something but his just as staunchly Catholic mother hushed him. However both of them treated Marie with nothing but politeness and kindness, not as though she was family, much better than that.
He was sitting on the porch after dinner smoking a cigarette and watching the dark clouds roll in with a secret smile on his face when his mother came out and sat with him.
"Marie's gone to bed," she informed him first off and then smiled as she followed his gaze. "She's here you know," she said softly, "on holidays from college. She still does it."
That was all she said that cryptic message but he knew exactly who and what she meant. He known she'd be home but he'd intended to avoid her, not to see her at all costs. Though this seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. He'd see her for just a second and that would be it. Without giving it anymore thought he grabbed his jacket and headed off towards the house of their nearest neighbour.
When he came in sight of the house he stopped; this was a stupid idea; he shouldn't be doing this. Then he saw her. She walked out of the house with her face turned upwards watching the ever-approaching clouds. It was a familiar sight, a ritual he had watched her perform a hundred, no a hundred hundred times and he still didn't know how she did it, she always seemed to know just the right time to come out, just when the storm would start. And as if to prove his point a streak of heat lightning blanched the sky seconds later followed quickly by a peal of thunder. The air seemed filled with electricity but the heat just became more oppressive as the rain stayed away.
He watched the curve of her neck as she continued to look at the heavens and thought how regal she looked. She had told him once that her mother had been an African Princess but he always thought that had just been one of her fantasies or else her uncle exaggerating her parents' lives to her but looking at her right then he could believe it was true.
The guys in high school had always mistaken the regal appearance she possessed as aloofness and talked about her as if she was this unattainable, unreachable goddess but he had never thought of her like that. How could he when he'd seen her with her face covered in birthday cake on her 7th birthday and the first time she'd gotten drunk, when he'd seen every embarrassing and humiliating occurrence in her life and been there for all the good times too.
He'd seen her at her lowest points, seen her slave over her books to get the scholarship she needed to get into college. Seen how she always put her responsibilities towards others before herself. He'd seen her at her most human and he'd loved her for it; for his entire adolescence his sun and moon had rose and set in her.
He watched as she raised her arms to the skies and then as if she commanded the heavens themselves the skies opened with a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder. He watched as she slowly began to dance in the rain. First her hips began to sway and then she moved her arms slowly tracing the path the rain took down her body, first through her hair then down her face, her neck and down her body. He had forgotten how sensual the dance was, forgotten what it could do to him.
Watching her dance with that abandon, that passion made him remember another evening three years before just before she had left to go to college and he was getting ready to move to New Orleans. On a similar night they had sat together on his porch and watched as the sun went down and the moon came up. They'd talked for hours and then suddenly out of nowhere she had kissed him. He could still remember the passion, the desire and the need she had radiated into him and remembered how she had reacted when he had stopped her. She couldn't need him, he'd just end up hurting her, he wasn't the kind of good person she should be with, he wasn't the kind of person she should need. It wouldn't work, it would end and then their friendship would be destroyed and then he lose her from his life forever.
He tried to explain it to her but she'd stopped him short. He'd seen her heartbreak in her eyes as she stood and left. And that had been that, in trying to save their friendship he had destroyed it. He still knew it wouldn't have worked between them because she was too good for him, the other guys had been right she was unattainable, always out of reach, too good for mortal hands to touch, well for his hands anyway.
He watched as she opened her mouth and let the rain run into it. He watched as her chocolate hands became tangled in her silver hair. Then his ears filled with her joyful laughter as she just spun and spun in the rain celebrating the world, celebrating nature. As he watched her the reason he had given her her nickname came back to him and he felt the desire to call out to her.
" `Ro time to come in," her uncle called just as the word spilled from his lips.
"Stormy."
She's the one that makes me fall Midnight moon shines through it all
She's the one that makes my dreams They call her Mississippi
But she don't flow to me They call her Mississippi
But she don't flow to me
Author's Notes: This is my first ever attempt at an X-men story so I'll understand if you all think it's rubbish. It's sort of an alternate reality thing, my idea of what some of the x-men would be like in our world. It's based around the song Mississippi by Train, the story just sort of appeared as I listened to the song and refused to go away until I wrote it.
Mississippi
They call her Mississippi But she don't flow to me Spends her light on the Bayou
But she don't come to see She's the one that makes my dreams
They call her Mississippi But she don't flow to me
The Louisiana summer day was characteristically hot and humid. The heat hung heavy in the air making the day still and dead. Anyone who ventured outside found themselves coated in a thin layer of perspiration within minutes. It was definitely not a day to be driving especially in a car with a broken air conditioner. He thumped the dashboard above the a/c hoping against hope that the miracle would happen.
It didn't. He sighed and tried to concentrate once again on his driving. It would pick today of all days to start acting up. He'd already put off his visit home for far too long and he had the feeling he may have used the broken air conditioning excuse before and they would remember that. They probably kept a catalogue of his excuses just waiting for the day he'd screw up and use the same one twice. He didn't understand why it mattered to him; he was a grown man for God's sake he shouldn't have to make up excuses for not visiting his parents. If he didn't want to he didn't want to.
His gaze fell on the woman dozing peacefully beside him. A lock of her brown hair clung to her face and he could see the gleam of sweat across her forehead and down her neck. She was curled into a very peculiar position made all the more uncomfortable looking by the seatbelt she wore; yet she looked perfectly at ease. He couldn't understand how she could manage it.
Then there was a lot about his on-and-off again girlfriend he didn't understand. Maybe if he understood her their relationship would be better. He didn't really want to start thinking about it right then. They were in the early stages of an on again period, which meant things would be good between them for another month or so. When things went sour again, when one of them let their eye start to wander then he'd start thinking about why their relationship always seemed to falter and eventually fall.
She moved suddenly and mumbled in her sleep. He wondered what she was dreaming about, if he played a part in her dreams. It was probably not the best thing to wonder about considering his own dreams. He didn't think he'd ever actually dreamed about her, fantasised about her sure, dreamed about her, no. Someone else entirely ruled his dream world and had done for a long time now. Someone he could never be with in the waking world became his everything in his sleep and only in his sleep. There had been a time, a chance but he had let it pass him by and now that chance, that dream flowed further and further from him.
The shape of her horizon Makes the morning sun
When she puts her eyes on Each and anyone
She's the one that makes me fall Midnight moon shines through it all
It was late in the afternoon when they finally pulled into his parents' yard. The heat hadn't receded any and it was silent and still as if everything was poised in anticipation, waiting for something to happen. When he stepped out of the car he felt sticky and grimy. The palms of his hands were slick with sweat and he wiped them on his jeans. Marie had woken up and was incredibly cranky. She'd complained non-stop about the heat and the crick in her neck she'd developed from sleeping awkwardly. He'd reminded her that she was the one who'd insisted on coming and that he had wanted he to stay at home. That had just sent her into a huff; it looked like the honeymoon period was over even earlier than usual.
He began to collect their luggage swatting away a couple of mosquitoes that were intent on making him their next meal. It was only after he had lugged all the bags to the porch that he noticed the black clouds on the horizon. He smiled softly maybe the weather would break soon and they'd get some relief from the endless heat.
His mother had been cooking dinner when they'd arrived but as soon as she heard them on the porch she rushed out to greet them. It had only been six months since he'd seen her last but it seemed to him she'd gotten much older and when he hugged her she felt much thinner and frailer in his arms.
His father's greeting wasn't exactly the Bible version of the return of the prodigal son but he had gotten a hello that in terms of his father was pretty close to a fattened calf. He had also gotten a raised eyebrow when he saw him put both sets of bags in the same room. He was pretty sure his father was going to say something but his just as staunchly Catholic mother hushed him. However both of them treated Marie with nothing but politeness and kindness, not as though she was family, much better than that.
He was sitting on the porch after dinner smoking a cigarette and watching the dark clouds roll in with a secret smile on his face when his mother came out and sat with him.
"Marie's gone to bed," she informed him first off and then smiled as she followed his gaze. "She's here you know," she said softly, "on holidays from college. She still does it."
That was all she said that cryptic message but he knew exactly who and what she meant. He known she'd be home but he'd intended to avoid her, not to see her at all costs. Though this seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. He'd see her for just a second and that would be it. Without giving it anymore thought he grabbed his jacket and headed off towards the house of their nearest neighbour.
When he came in sight of the house he stopped; this was a stupid idea; he shouldn't be doing this. Then he saw her. She walked out of the house with her face turned upwards watching the ever-approaching clouds. It was a familiar sight, a ritual he had watched her perform a hundred, no a hundred hundred times and he still didn't know how she did it, she always seemed to know just the right time to come out, just when the storm would start. And as if to prove his point a streak of heat lightning blanched the sky seconds later followed quickly by a peal of thunder. The air seemed filled with electricity but the heat just became more oppressive as the rain stayed away.
He watched the curve of her neck as she continued to look at the heavens and thought how regal she looked. She had told him once that her mother had been an African Princess but he always thought that had just been one of her fantasies or else her uncle exaggerating her parents' lives to her but looking at her right then he could believe it was true.
The guys in high school had always mistaken the regal appearance she possessed as aloofness and talked about her as if she was this unattainable, unreachable goddess but he had never thought of her like that. How could he when he'd seen her with her face covered in birthday cake on her 7th birthday and the first time she'd gotten drunk, when he'd seen every embarrassing and humiliating occurrence in her life and been there for all the good times too.
He'd seen her at her lowest points, seen her slave over her books to get the scholarship she needed to get into college. Seen how she always put her responsibilities towards others before herself. He'd seen her at her most human and he'd loved her for it; for his entire adolescence his sun and moon had rose and set in her.
He watched as she raised her arms to the skies and then as if she commanded the heavens themselves the skies opened with a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder. He watched as she slowly began to dance in the rain. First her hips began to sway and then she moved her arms slowly tracing the path the rain took down her body, first through her hair then down her face, her neck and down her body. He had forgotten how sensual the dance was, forgotten what it could do to him.
Watching her dance with that abandon, that passion made him remember another evening three years before just before she had left to go to college and he was getting ready to move to New Orleans. On a similar night they had sat together on his porch and watched as the sun went down and the moon came up. They'd talked for hours and then suddenly out of nowhere she had kissed him. He could still remember the passion, the desire and the need she had radiated into him and remembered how she had reacted when he had stopped her. She couldn't need him, he'd just end up hurting her, he wasn't the kind of good person she should be with, he wasn't the kind of person she should need. It wouldn't work, it would end and then their friendship would be destroyed and then he lose her from his life forever.
He tried to explain it to her but she'd stopped him short. He'd seen her heartbreak in her eyes as she stood and left. And that had been that, in trying to save their friendship he had destroyed it. He still knew it wouldn't have worked between them because she was too good for him, the other guys had been right she was unattainable, always out of reach, too good for mortal hands to touch, well for his hands anyway.
He watched as she opened her mouth and let the rain run into it. He watched as her chocolate hands became tangled in her silver hair. Then his ears filled with her joyful laughter as she just spun and spun in the rain celebrating the world, celebrating nature. As he watched her the reason he had given her her nickname came back to him and he felt the desire to call out to her.
" `Ro time to come in," her uncle called just as the word spilled from his lips.
"Stormy."
She's the one that makes me fall Midnight moon shines through it all
She's the one that makes my dreams They call her Mississippi
But she don't flow to me They call her Mississippi
But she don't flow to me