Sunshine, a x-men: the movie fanfic

Sunshine

Synergy, a lack of energy and a whole lot of sunshine. We are the sounds of the end.

NOTES- Right, master post of this. Edited to make a little more sense. And yes, it has a sequel.

...

It's strange, lying on the edge of the world, face to the sun.

It's stranger lying underwater.

But, stranger than that –and I see dear readers, I see that abject confusion crossing your face 'What does it mean? What does she mean'- is the drop kick feeling of knowing that everything, everywhere is going to shit. That everything has a countdown and you're the bitch pressing down the button millimetre for millimetre.

How many times does a gal get to end the world anyway?

By my count, it's gotta be at least 14 times now.

But anyway, it's strange lying on the bottom of the ocean, listening to lives run past.

It's stranger hearing the countdown in your head.

...

Okay, she has a confession.

This whole 'I'm useless I should totally dedicate my life to saving cats or something' thing was a ruse. A clever one. To lure them into a false sense of security. Or something. Dammit, who cares anyway? This is a ruse and she started it and she really should use proper grammar.

Back to the ruse

Truth is, she has complete control. Absolute, perfect control. She just doesn't want them to know it yet. You see, after she started absorbing people more frequently, when she got over the absolute disgust of having people crawl through her mind, after she accepted what she could do, a little part of her brain switched off. Granted, it took some time for her to figure out how to switch it back on and it was by sheer dumb luck that she didn't touch anyone for those three weeks but hey it worked out didn't it and she doesn't need the commentary boys, she really doesn't-

Wow, hold your horses girl, there's a lot more to be said before you flip out.

Truth is, she can touch and truth is, she didn't take the cure.

The exact why and how though, goes back a little bit too far for her to think about.

Far enough back to make her hate New Orleans

See, there's a choice here

Left takes her to Chicago and the cure

Right takes her to Caldecott and, well, a hole in the ground

"Left or right?"

That shuffling noise you hear is the sound of a heart breaking

Remy Le Beau

God's fucking gift to woman.

Behind her, the constant flick-flick is St John trying to keep away from his newest addiction. She's not sure if it's the booze or the flame throwing suit she should be more worried about.

The blue haired woman is Domino, no real name just a suit, tapping her way through a million safety checks. If she could, Domino would do this without them. But she can't and not even her luck would cover this.

The sounds of the end are rhythmic, shuffle shuffle, flick flick, tap tap-

Maybe it's just her but the sound inside of this van is really fucking bleak.

Maybe it's just her but the end feels really fucking bleak

"Left"

And the bleak crescendo continues

Let's get this straight-

-it starts with a kiss. Not chaste, not innocent, it starts with a kiss that's startling and ravishing, like the bang that supercharged this universe and wagged a finger, knowing down the line that it would come down to her and him and mistakes and a thousand words too little, too late.

Let her restart

It starts with two kisses

One is a loud drunken mistake that go's way, way too far, makes him moan Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!

And the other is a silent whisper of hands and feet and blankets, makes her scream Remy! Remy! Remy!

Funny thing is, as midnight strikes through their relationship, neither are thinking in real words, whole sentences, only god and yes and no.

So now we're going in real time

She's safe safe safe inside the mansion gates and the million waves and voices gate-crashing her head are numbing. In 3 seconds exactly she'll smile at Storm who'll pity her and wave back, in 15 seconds she'll smell Logan coming towards her with cigar smoke and an endless clock tick-tocking away in her head. In 30 minutes Lorna will not so subtly glare at Kitty for being near Bobby, in 30 minutes and 34 seconds Pete will gaze at either Bobby or Kitty longingly, in 34 minutes, 16 seconds Jubilee will-

She shuts it down

Storm approaches, she smiles. 15 seconds, she waves and babbles about her newest pet project. In 30 minutes she rolls her eyes and mutters about 'Spoiled Daddy's Girls'. 30 minutes 34, she pats Pete's shoulder and asks for help in art.

And round and round it goes where it stops-

Well, she knows, and it isn't going to be pretty.

Remy Le Beau was good for two things

Annoying her and target practice

They're cell mates in this shithole holding onto a dream no one wants anymore.

And dammit if the man isn't hot

"So why are you here?"

Ah, so not question time swamp rat

"Then what's your name?"

Leather or real?

"Whatever you want"

Hmm, Rogue sugar, R-O-G-U-E.

"Rogue, like rouge. I like it."

You really don't wanna know what I think, swamp rat

"I don't?"

No, you really don't

She leans back and waits for him to realise that not once did her lips move

And in later news we will cover-

This is an unprecedented attac-

The mutant problem is escalating amid reports of –

We are not the problem, you're prejudice is-

When the wheels come down, when the wheels touch ground!-

Then the wheels touched ground, his cards stopped shuffling and those damn earphones they give you in Economy slipped out.

A perky 30 something with blonde highlights and all the right lines walks him off the plane, giggling and simpering about...something

He's stroking a band of white hair and green eyes, trying to remember why he ever liked blondes.

Brunette's were more...mysterious

Harder to keep track of too

But duty calls south of the waistline and who is he to deny himself?

"Take the card cher, I'll see you a lil' later on."

And he plans to, just not for what she thinks.

She decides to do something about her hair

It's gotten too long again, slipping along her back, slipping, sliding, slipping, sliding

(And doesn't that remind you of something else you've done with hair? Slip, slide, slip, slide, you were the fucking communal see saw weren't you?)

Slip, slide, slip slide

Her hair is near the X on her back

She tells Storm –nothing, accident, playing fire with Pyro's powers and flammable liquid

(Doesn't explain the precision though, does it?)

She tells Logan –playing with the X-Jet, those huge metal things are sharp

(Doesn't explain the acrid smell she knows she's carrying)

She tells Beast –it was an accident aaaaages ago when Pyro was still around, Pyro set me on fire and Bobby tried to cool it off, see that totally explains the ridges

(He's a fucking doctor sugar, he knows his shit)

But it never happened that way did it?

The X scar is a lot easier to explain then the 3 dots on her inner thigh she may possibly have gotten on a secret base somewhere that does not happen to have an corporeal form, here, there, anywhere

Hypothetically, of course, if such a place existed and happened to be a facility named after a certain object one might use to stab someone

Certainly not a place in search of a certain 'Cure' Worthington maintains exists already

See, science is a tricky thing, some day's it requires a Petri dish and a couple hours of your time, others, it demands hundreds of semi-willing test subjects and a disease like none other.

Except maybe the plague

But we're all different right, so we need a different hypothesis, right? So this, hypothetical experiment –less Petri more mass suffering happens, hypothetically, in the middle of plain sight on a little stretch of abandoned island.

(What is with the small island thing anyway?)

And, staying hypothetical, if a small minded government decided it needed more test subjects and it just happened to have a list, of say, names of mutants either aligned with 'freedom' organisations or maybe, certain opera-glove-and-leather-jacket girls who just got caught earning some side money dealing in small towns which was not cool man, not at all-

Yes, hypothetically, it had a list and a need and a group of thieves in the loop willing to sell the info for a Picasso and a few gold bars... and that Picasso just happened to be in New York where certain Opera-glove-and-leather-jacket girls happen to be going to a special ol' school for the 'gifted'

Hypothetically, this can't end well

Good thing it didn't happen, right?

Right

If you want two ways to get yourself killed, here are her favourites

1- Make up some bullshit about getting your DNA neutered, steal angry-father-figures favourite bike, proceed at ridiculous speed toward Neverland, nearly die because squirrels have no road sense, stop because the other option is a cliff-dive-and-statistic.

2- Get caught by the police. On stolen property, with no helmet, no licence, trespassing, with dope

Yeah, she's a special sort of gal

So, the police are yelling at her, citing regulation, mutant hate propaganda, how much jail time she's gonna get unless-

Unless, she agrees to help them commit mass genocide

And now for our regular scheduled programming...

Or not

She starts the day as always, proving she's not insane, doesn't really need the help, everything is hunky dory over this way, thanks for asking.

Then she gets fucked over

You see, today is the day Storm invited a friend of hers over for a play date.

Today is the day that she opens the door, yells at Bobby and finds...

"Cher?"

Remy Le Beau

The first thing they do when she gets to this island in the middle of nowhere is to turn her powers off.

The second is to hand her a small knife and a packet of condoms

It takes her three days to figure out what the condoms are for.

Twelve minutes to figure out the knife

For most people, having someone stab you in the back isn't the friendliest greeting.

Here it looks pretty damn common.

"Rogue!" she thinks she knows that voice, its beating from somewhere inside her head, "Long time no see!"

...

Rewind. Pause. What?

"Pyro?"

"Damn right baby." He twirls her into a hug and simply slides the knife on home, "How ya been?"

Something is wrong here.

The policeman just asked her to willingly let them go Nazi on her genetic coding. Like she would agree, she didn't spend all that time with some old guy in her head and Logan's crazy just to let them do some goddamn experiments on her.

"Help you?" she slams the back of an open palm across his face. "Why would I help you?"

The man stops, shivers, shifts into someone else.

"'Ello Rogue."

Mystique. Her childhood nightmare.

"You lost yours" her eyes shutter, "you lost yours"

Mystique extends one blue leg, "Not fast enough and you, you owe me."

"Why?" and hell no, there are tears on her cheeks, "why are you here?"

"Because. Thieves aren't that picky about who steals with them." Mystiques smile, the one with all the teeth, falters for a second. "It's time."

Then she does the impossible, she pulls out a yellow envelope, one she's sure she lost in the Canadian snow.

She first meets this thing at age 15, she's running high on something that may have once been a tree, driving too fast down a road littered with the devils due.

She's gonna kill someone out here tonight

She closes her eyes, hands off the wheel, drifting

When she opens them again she's flying toward a tree. At the very last second something –someone- flips in and saves her. One moment she's alone heading for the second-star-to-the-left and next she's sitting pretty next to a girl dressed in blue. Shock red hair too.

The woman in blue grabs the wheel and pushes down on her leg over the brake.

The car shudders to a halt.

"Huh, what a waste that would've been" woman-n-blue mutters, she turns and tawny gold eyes smile at her, "I'm Misty. Who are you?"

As far as Marie's concerned she's still high as hell and this woman is her mind fucking her over, "I'm Marie. Anna-Marie. I'm a life sucking mutant with no home and 3 kilo's of dope in the boot."

Misty tilts her head, smiles, "Well Marie, you're in lucky 'cause I'm in need of something like an accomplice."

So starts a partnership that would define her

She and 'Misty' ride high, sell lows and cause generally mayhem.

It's all good for about three weeks

Then the shit hits the fan

So it's a Sunday and Rogues wearing her best, Misty is making pancakes and the sweet lil' villa they rented is rocking out soft jazz and the highway to hell.

Doorbell

Rogue alternates between not opening the door and hoping Misty will, eventually the high pitch of the ring gets to her and she, herself, opens the door, "Who the hell are you?"

A man, dressed impeccably, tips a hat and breathes the smell of gunmetal on her, "Is Mystique here?"

Mystique

Misty

"What was your name?" Rogue smiles, sneaks a hand for the shotgun behind the door.

They had a bit of trouble convincing the local branch of stupid that not only where they not lesbian lovers, they had enough kick-ass between them to run a small country. Granted, neither of them needed the gun. Seems walking outside covered in fake blood wielding a machete was all they needed to do.

Metal man smiles back, "Erik"

"I'm sorry Erik, I don't know-"

Now Misty usually has impeccable timing but today it seems not only is she off by galaxies, she's threatening equilibrium.

"Marie, who's at the do-"

The bowl, blue bottomed and faceted, cracks perfectly

Tomorrow she'll think about it and wonder if this was when she entered the ninth circle.

"You need me to do what?"

She sips her sweet tea and tries her best to look something other than, well...really damn confused.

"Help us steal something." Erik-the-metal-man says, and passes his tea to Misty for more sugar. Rogue briefly worries about his sugar intake, then remembers that he's bat shit insane.

"Right now."

"No, in the future. But when the time comes you will know." Erik passes her a bright yellow envelope from in between his left breast pocket and his heart. She takes it and it has her full name on it.

Right, okay, this is much too creepy for her, "I'm not helping you." holding it by the edges she tries to hand it back to him.

Misty looks her in the eyes and she catches something, a flicker, a colour change? "You are."

"Yeah? Why?"

And Misty, the friend she fucking trusted, peels back her skin and all the layers or friendship and sisterly love to something more basic, something more primal.

"'Ello Marie."

Mystique

She lived with Mystique ( who was Raven then not this shifting monster) for 5 years, from her 5th birthday to her tenth.

She remembers close to nothing, but she knows she dreams about it. Every night for 6 years after she was shuffled into a nice safe environment she wets her bed and wakes up screaming, the name of two women on her tongue and blood up and down her arms from where she's scratched off all her skin.

Her social worker says –it's nothing, just childhood suppression

Her foster mother says- she's a kid, she'll grow out of it

Xavier says nothing

The dreams fizzle out when her powers begin to spiral out of control.

She's not sure what's worse, sleeping through the night because you have to take 20 pills to get to sleep or being so terrified of going to sleep you do dope because it's just that much fucking easier.

Remy tells her his story once

About being on the streets and finding the guild. About Belladonna and her brother. About loving so much you'd do anything for it. About duty and honour and the skin that burnt off his hands. The joys of stealing and loving ('because some women, cher, are not fucked they are loved. With my penis.'). And she thinks about him and their cosy cell and how it seems like a home almost.

And that right there, yeah, that should have been her first warning.

Power suppressers

Now brought to you by mass-murderers-are-us

Did they really think no one would notice when people went missing? Or when they came back missing vital organs? They're genetic fuck-ups not mentally disabled. Did they really think they wouldn't notice?

Rogue figures it takes about three hours for the new batches of suppressers to come out. Two days to tell what the side effects are. She's always one of the guinea pigs. First, they reactivate her powers with a little shot to the inside of her leg and then they inject her with the suppressant.

Then comes the knife fight.

See, all that literal back stabbing is just practice.

And quite frankly between the boy in her cell she's fucking and the mutiny she's planning, she's damn good at it now.

It was fine, it was dandy, she could handle it. Beatings, sex, drugs, lots of drugs. More fighting. More sex. More death.

Then they brought in the children

First it was a little boy about 11, he turned things into glass.

They stole his fingertips

Next was a little girl of about 9, she teleported and had a minor regenerative power

They cut out her bones

Between one day and the next a hundred more children floated through, each younger then the last.

The very last straw is a pregnant German woman by the name of Alicia.

'My name means noble hearted'

That was the first thing Alicia says in English.

She raves about her unborn baby. Her boy. To anyone who'll listen. Usually that's only Rogue.

Rogue doesn't care though, her baby belly is adorable and it just makes her want one that much more.

And if she stops taking the pill –which they have to give the female inmates, starts sleeping around more. Well, who can blame her?

Alicia goes into labour 'round 3 in the morning. She and Rogue are busy playing cards with one of Gambit's spare packs, really, that boy has hundreds of decks in that smelly old coat of his. They're playing go fish through the bars, Rogues naked as the day she was born and Alicia is wearing standard blue.

It makes the water easier to see.

When it happens Alicia is telling her about the sky in Berlin ('nothing more beautiful than grey-summers day, ja?) and Rogue is trying to twist her way around basic vowels. One minute she's trying to ask about the weather the next Rogue's eyes are glued to her crotch.

It takes a comedic intervention from the cell across ('Man, are 9 months up already?') for it to hit home.

Alicia is having a baby

Having a baby

"Medic!"

Alicia is having her baby.

It takes all night and then some.

Rogue walks up and down her cell the entire night, footsteps interrupted with 'Cherie?' and 'Calm down' and 'She'll be okay, really Rogue, she'll be okay'

And it really doesn't matter that they all say she will be because until Alicia is in the cell across from her smelling like a bad period holding that little something that makes her toes curl and something inside her flip, she won't believe it. She won't believe anything anymore until she can see it.

Alicia comes back in the evening, a baby with ten toes and ten fingers and a cute lil' wisp of sunshine on his head screaming like all hell in her arms. She lets Rogue touch his head and she falls so fast for the boy.

The next morning he's gone and Alicia is crying. Rogue cons the guard into her cell and uses her unsuppressed powers (this batch only worked for 4 hours on her, it killed the guy three cells down) to fish around for information. She finds it.

And tries desperate not to cry when she tells Alicia

"He was a level 5."

"No. They can't have taken him! They can't-"

"I'm so, so, sorry."

Alicia kills herself the next day, strung herself up by her toes, no one is surprised.

Rogue opens the yellow envelope the same day.

Purple, no. 7. Take it to the Chicago house.

Mystique hands another cup of tea.

"You'll know when to open this"

Rogue looks from Mystique to the tea to the old man sitting in the chair.

She says- "Why?" when she really means how and who and when.

A spoon appears and twists around in her tea.

"Because. You might actually do it this time."

The spoon twists and rusts.

"Do what?"

Bends. Breaks. Bursts in to flames.

"Save us"

And Rogue blacks out to the sound of time running and her entire destiny changing.

When she wakes up, the envelope is still there and her tears are already dry

So, it was easy

Betraying her species- easy

Plotting their downfall- easy

Convincing Eric to help- easy

Getting the guards to sneak her Kick- easy

Providing Domino with the weapons she needed- easy

Organising a riot- ridiculous, but easy

Convincing the boy in the cell to love her- easy

Convincing the suicidal best friend from three years ago to burn stuff- My god, that was easy, like 20 dollar whore easy.

Letting go of all her morals-

Well, that should have been harder than it was.

Three days later and she's all ready for the end

Pyro's checking on the guards, Domino's 'inspiring' the troops and she's macking on the guy she's spent the last however long living with. She's absolutely certain that he'll never see her again. Death or life they're a little too fucked up to keep this going.

He leans back and hands her the King of Hearts

She tucks it into her shirt and cuts off a lock of her hair.

They don't talk and she slips back into her clothes and he takes a smoke and she doesn't bother to say goodbye.

The last she hears of him is the flick-flick of his cards

Trekking down the corridor with Domino and a little kid they call Lacy, she's telekinetic.

"If this all goes wrong?"

"It won't."

"If it does. What's the safe word?

"The safe word? The safe word is-"

This is when time beats backwards

"-Sunshine"

"Sunshine!"- is the last word Lacy screams before she's just a pile of burnt bits on the ground, still twitching hand clutching the vile of purple murk. The cure. The right one. The one so many people died for.

Sunshine is the last sound the guards make before Pyro burns them in their fire retardant suits.

Sunshine is the slice of light that cuts across her face as she and Domino run toward a doorway. Find another million dead faces and one baby body opened on a slab of silver metal.

"Sunshine," Domino breathes, "Sunshine is the reason we're doing this."

And stabs the needle of purple murk into Rogues jugular

Somewhere between her powers exploding and her dying she realises that Sunshine is just the chorus of this stupid song.

Thirty two minutes, fifty one seconds. She's awake and the voice of the universe is whispering to her.

"Cher..."

So, it's the morning after the night before, this is a hotel in New Orleans and whoop-de-dee she's sneaking out of the room.

"Please, don't..."

And is he begging? He doesn't beg, no one begs for her. No one!

"Don't you fucking dare." And are you aware you're hissing?

"Wait"

Here it comes

"You don't have to leave, I-"

Desperation- "I don't care, I refuse to be abandoned"

"I won't leave you."

Denial- "You don't know that. You can't promise me that."

"I can-"

Anger- "Cannot, you cannot"

"Goddammit girl, do you ever listen?"

Acceptance- "Buh-bye now"

"No"

No?

You see, there is one thing she didn't factor into the game plan

Remy fucking Le Beau

More specifically, growing attached to him

Like picket fence attached

Fuck

Remy...

Remy...

Crap.

"Um, I don't think I know you." She back peddles, looking for some footing, Storm, yes, she can hear the winds and crackle of lightning, "LetmegetStormforyou!"

"Ro-"

"Bye!"

She leans against the closed door, foot slipping out from underneath. Soon, the voices all nice and suppressed push forward like a living thing and clasp their greedy hands on her mind. She shakes them off with a stern mental push and flips her face forward into Logan. He streamlines in her head all tick-tock and growls. His mind slips over hers and covers the rush of all those memories she wishes she never had. All those feelings.

"Stripes?"

"It's nothing, nothing at all"

See, that's not so hard, it was nothing at all.

There is nothing at all waiting for you on the other side of that door.

"Who was at the door?"

That's Storm

"Some guy who smells like cigars."

And that's Logan

That crying pathetic mass, yeah, that's her. Logan lifts her carefully to her own bed and lays her down, she rolls onto her side and cradles his constant tick-tock in her head. Holding onto the unbelievable strength of his mind to keep herself inside the present, inside this room. She lays a hand open on the blankets and he places his own in it. She draws more of him in and falls into his nightmares.

They're better than her own.

They are bloodstained and victorious

She's limping with Domino into a van, Pyro and Gambit following. They're sitting in the car, quiet and contemplative. She reopens the yellow envelope and dumps the empty syringe in. Licks it closed, tucks it between the drivers manual in the glove box. Adjusts her mirrors. Looks at Pyro when he complains about her being too slow.

She heaves into first, points anywhere but here and putters out.

Behind the sounds of the end grow

Down four floors, across two corridors and through a silver door a meeting is taking place

And she's late

She doesn't dash, doesn't meander, simply walks slowly toward a room buzzing with noise no one else can hear. When the door opens she steps through and listens to the silence.

Then the static starts

It crawls up her spine, jumping up and down on her self-control screaming- look at me! I'm here! Look look look at me! I am here never gone come back stay stay stay stay stay!

She breathes and asks about the commotion.

Everything returns to what it once was, the song in her head beating out double time. She sits down between Kitty and Logan, listens to the beats and waits for something that is inevitable.

Storm stands, goddess, time and temper so very short, says"Pyro is dead. Gambit came to invite us to the funeral." Sits again.

Rogue gives into the rush.

They spent two months in New Orleans

She spent most of it on her back grinning like all hell, the drumming in her head only stopping with the white fuzz of really great sex. It feels like the first time, like coming home and one day before she can stop herself she's calling Bobby to tell him it's over, Remy's better and she's pretty damn fine herself.

Kitty answers on the fifth ring

She finds herself, naked, moonlit hair 'just fucked' beautiful and unwashed, listening to Kitty groan 'Hello? Who the fuck is this?' into her boyfriends phone, angry that he would cheat on her like this. She hangs up and looks at the boy next to her and tries to remember who the hell she was before this, all this. She can't.

And that's terrifying

Its four days down the road, a truck stop on the side of the highway. She left N'Awlins alone, with nothing more than 50 bucks and 'Oh shit, oh shit who the fuck am I, I just don't know anymore and why am I okay with that, I shouldn't be okay with that. He smells nice I don't think I mind not knowing as long as I can stay with him, oh shit!' running on steroids through her head.

She's wearing jeans and a hoodie and a tight smile. The drumming only getting worse with everyday she spends in withdrawal. It might be from lack of sex (really? She can manage 16 years but someone asks for week without it from him-) it might be because she's trying to be what she can't anymore but it gets worse the closer she is to home (-and just when did that become a dirty ol' cell, or hotel room, or brothel toilet or anywhere she was with him) and she just can't convince her body that it's better off without him. Whatever the fuck he was for her.

Things get harder with every absorption. It's like the more voices she has the more insistent the beat becomes till she just starts listening to it instead of herself. It whispers time and secrets to her and she finds herself letting it lull her to sleep and her body turning to it instead of what's been a constant warmth for four months-

-four months? That long since she's been up north? Shit, Logan's gonna flay her alive-

- finds herself minus him in the counter-time.

At some point she barely notices he's not there anymore.

"Why do you hate me, cher?"

He catches up to her in the elevator, shutting her in with Logan's tick-tock and his endless static.

Why now, why now? She was doing so well.

"I don't know what you'r-" she attempts shakedown, avoidance altogether

"Don't you dare." And he's having none of it

For the first time in what seems like forever that familiar craving for him pops up. Ears are taken up by frantic pounding, hands shake and it feels like getting off dope all over again. She never noticed him turning into an addiction. She should have. Of all the things those voices whispered-

Of all the secrets and all the endings...

But she didn't listen, didn't listen, didn't listen because every time she did it ended the same way.

Bleakly

She realises she's pregnant somewhere in Kentucky

She realises it's a miscarriage in the middle of running away, so, somewhere in Utah.

She realises it was his -must've been, who the fuck else?- over dinner when everyone's tense and quiet and he's sitting across from her and looking so gosh darn miserable.

And she knows, and she hates it, that there is no happy ending for them but...he wants to know so badly. She can give him that.

She hates him for two things.

The baby he couldn't give her and the time he took from her.

She knew from the first time he touched her and his skin didn't sizzle, that he was going to be there for a damn long time. That she'd had him coming her whole damn life. She pushes him into a corner, pins him down with illusions like –'lover' and 'friend' and pins him down harder with her emotions; she keeps him close enough to touch but far enough to drive insane.

She wants him to know exactly how long she's been waiting for a boy like him. She wants to tell him how long he's been waiting for her.

The voices tell her things about herself she wished she never knew.

She listens to them and hates him for a third thing.

She never once regretted him

Outside. Rain. Tomorrow they burn down for John

He's sitting, smoke drifting up. She stands behind him and places a hand lazily in his hair says-

"I was pregnant. It was yours. Miscarried. I love you. A lot. I hope it's enough. I can't do this anymore. Sorry."

-And turns away

He wraps an arm around her legs. "Do you remember what you said when you were leaving?"

"Yeah."

(I don't care, I refuse to be abandoned)

"Do you remember what I said?"

(I won't leave you)

"Yeah." She can feel every spot he's touching. Touch. It's a gorgeous word.

"I stand by that."

And the beating stops for her to think for herself for once, just once.

And she hears his heart pounding in time with hers

"How'd he die?" Kitty asks over breakfast on D-Day

"Chicago. He took a cure. Hacker-knifed him too high and his powers self destructed. He burnt himself to death." Rogue says; she's not paying attention, listening to the rhythm of Logan at war with a dead Scott and the thought that maybe the comatose body in that-place-that-stabs is really Jean. He has this problem. A lot.

"How did you know that?" Storm, the crackle of freshly burnt ground, "I only heard that this morning."

Rogue sighs, switches from Logan's tick-tock to the sound of filtered sunshine, "There was only one cure. I took it." She looks at Remy who's ashen faced and static erratic, "Do you remember Alicia's baby? His power was the ability to change anyone's genetic traits simply by touching them."

She stands and begins to walk out.

"Unfortunately, that cure results in madness."

Storms are made of lighting and wind and rain

Storm is exactly the same. Harsh wind and hard strikes and the soft pitter patter of water on roofs.

"You could have mentioned this. That you knew Remy." She says talking more to the winds that carry her than Rogue herself. "You're the girl he's been looking for."

"I couldn't."

"He died Rogue, Pyro died from a cure that didn't even work and Remy, you all but broke him"

Rogue closes her eyes; she knows that, she always knew he was going to die like that. Even before sunshine he was always stepping places she couldn't go back to. Not ever.

And Remy...

"He burnt himself down. That's the way we all end. In fire." She tries to explain it, really does but Storm is wind and water. The kind that never lands long enough to understand. She is the goddess of the Storm, she is its eye and she can't see beyond the wreckage she creates. She can't explain that she and Remy were never gonna make it anyway. Couldn't explain the stupid pull and push dymanic that would go too far if she let. Couldn't explain the frantically bleak pounding against her mind that screamed for her to leave everytime they got too close. Couldn't explain that everytime they touched something in her burned.

Couldn't explain that she can't choose him.

Storm looks her in the eyes for the first time in years, "I hope you understand the choice you're making."

And Rogue laughs because really-

She knows exactly what choice she's making

Canada. Before Magneto decided to fry her brain.

She's sitting in a bar, holding a drink and waiting. A yellow envelope is in her bag and she wishes she could just burn it the fuck away.

Two hours from now she'll meet a man who will save her and end the world in two turns. He'll have a beautiful old clock in his soul that'll call and call to broken down people like her. He'll sound like time itself.

Two hours and fifteen minutes and this envelope in her bag will be thrown into the snow while she hopes for something better.

Better will come in the form of an old house and classes full of people she can relate to.

Better will only last a little while

Logan disappears halfway through Pyro's funeral. She's a little miffed. His tick-tock is always calming and squashed between the horny wet crawl of Bobby and the hot, hot static of Remy she'd like that. Remy's hand strays toward her and she all but punches him in the face with her emotions. Bobby is much less subtle, he places a hand on her ass and a jolt of his ice begins to crawl up into her brain.

She sends a purple shock straight down his pants.

He sits up straighter and blushes all the way down, almost as embarrassed as the sudden wet patch on his jeans. He excuses himself and everyone else chalks it up to him getting over-emotional.

Well, he was over something but it sure as hell wasn't emotional

She leans back, pulls out some origami paper and proceeds to make paper cranes. The funeral ends as her fingers fly over number 86, red and orange wings and a purple centre.

All 86 go in with him.

"Jean Grey is alive" Logan growls, tick tock heavy with sleep deprivation, "and she's in the infirmary"

The countdown in her head jumps forward and her head goes in her hands. No, no, she can't be. Not this time. Why? She did everything right! She posted the letter and learnt control and stopped the war and found the boy but didn't...she didn't keep him...and this time she should be dead!

Everyone else visits during the day with gifts and hello and how are you dripping from their lips. Rogue avoids it every way she can and holds on to Remy. They sleep a lot and tell stories and are generally together. Three nights later when its past midnight and the song is heavy on her brain she crawls out of her window and sidles her way onto the roof.

"I know your secret"

The Doomsday Clock in her head now stands at five to midnight.

"I knew it was you" she says and turns to look at the pale, should-be-dead face of Jean Grey.

Jean smiles, and for a moment she thinks she sees a beak instead, "Of course you did. You've been waiting a very long time for this haven't you Marie?"

"No" she lies and steps closer to the thing that's currently using Jean's body. It walks forward her head saying, feathers and fire and power and death even as Jean's eyes say trust me.

She wraps Rogue in a hug and whispers into her hair, "Yes. Don't worry, it'll be fine now. Just say you choose me."

The air gets hotter.

"If the choice is between letting you kill everyone and me dying, the choice isn't hard." She pushes back and her lips briefly touch Jeans skin. The thing tries to follow the contact inside.

Four to midnight

Jean dances away, long red hair tracing lines through the sky, "You wouldn't die. That's not the choice. The choice is your happiness, you remember that don't you? Happiness? Sunshine?" she grabs Rogues hand, throws her onto the ground. Pins her down with her claws- hands and Rogue tries to hear her over the squawking and shrilling, "You give up the boy and he self-destructs without you. No need for any Death. But if you stay, if you stay, he will become Death and the world will turn to Ice." She punctuates Ice with a sharp stab to her abdomen.

Three to midnight

"Maybe. That's a maybe." She flips them.

Jean rolls her eyes and whispers, "But, if you choose me you can have it all. I take your body and you take your happy ending."

"What are you, the devil?"

"No honey, that's you. The one with her finger on the countdown. If anything I'm your saviour."

Two to midnight

"What are you saving me from?"

"Yourself"

"And if I choose to take my chances with Ice?" her resolve is slipping a little. And her hands slide to the sides of Jean's head. This is when she knows shes not strong enough. She wants things too badly. She wants Remy and a home and a baby. Good enough to kill for but never quite enough to save and if this cycle is never ending she'll be stuck to it for the rest of forever. And maybe thats Jean too. A constant cycle of life and death. Maybe she wants Rogue to be strong enough to break this.

She won't be. She never is.

One to midnight

"I'll still burn you down." This time it's the Phoenix, low and seductive and just a little bit tired. Rogue has made her choice and they'll both have to live with it.

"I choose-"

Midnight.

This is the story you never wanted to hear

This is the moment in every horror film when the heroine opens the door or turns around and you know that the bogeyman is waiting around the corner. This is the moment everyone gives up to the terrorist in the pilot seat. The moment before the mine blows away your brother-in-arms. The moment your sister takes her last breath. The moment you realise that the brakes just aren't working.

This is the moment the countdown hits zero and we're all drop kicked into oblivion

Ladies and gentleman

Welcome to The End

It comes in Fire

She shudders awake, the sharp tang of sunshine hot under her tongue.

"Sleep well?"

That's Remy

"Like a charm," she smiles at him. Takes his hand in hers and places it over her bulging stomach. He holds her and she thinks of happy things, of silence and thinks maybe this is missing something. Then her baby kicks and she forgets. She asks for a tomato sandwich and in no time at all it's in front of her. She thinks about what to name her child and they're suddenly talking about it. She roams around a little cottage and wonders why she's never bored of the scenery. She's always, always happy. And she's happy to be happy. She has two children- a boy called Oliver and a girl called Rebecca. And they are perfect.

Later, much later –or is it no time at all? There are no clocks here. No way to tell time- she is sitting in her rocking chair, she's old and losing mobility in her fingers. She finds an envelope in place of her usual knitting needles.

It's a bright yellow envelope.

Inside she finds a dank piece of paper and an empty syringe.

With shaking fingers, she opens it-

It's strange, lying on the edge of the world, face to the sun.

It's stranger lying underwater-

How many times does a gal get to end the world anyway?

By my count, it's gotta be at least 14 times now.

But anyway, it's strange lying on the bottom of the ocean, listening to lives run past.

It's stranger hearing the countdown in your head.

And at the bottom written in her own flourishing cursive-

Attempt 16

The world resets

I. Finished it.