Yeh. First X-Men Fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, or anything else by Marvel.
What's in a name? An identity? A home? A life? A love? A choice?
Maybe.
To many, a name is the most important thing anyone can ever have, especially when they have little else. You may have been born and raised on the streets, living on wishes, picked money, and a name. A simple name, because no one cares about it but you, a name that holds no meaning, no memories, no life before the life you live now. Nor do you want to remember, it's the past, why worry about it now; now you have more important things to worry about, so you better run. Because they will chase you down, you will stumble, they will push you, your knees will weaken, but you will not fall, you will never fall, because you have a name, an identity that makes you real, and for as long as you're real you will always stand your ground, always stand where your faith and hope are, always stand where you're name is.
To others it's a tie, something to remind them of what they have, and how hard it was to get it. You could have had a big family, dozens of people you've known your whole life, living and working side by side to survive, and every time you think about it your heart aches with the pain of finding out that none of it mattered to them as much as it mattered to you. They used you, built you up and up, pretended to care, pretended to love. But now you know and you're gone. Away from the people who took your name and dirtied it with praise and lies. Now you have a new name, a new home. And now your heart is feeling an entirely new pain, and good pain, a pain that makes you want to cry out in happiness that you've finally found the place that was made for you. The place where that new name means everything you've lived, and survived through.
Some, don't even know there real name. Lost, long ago to reasons unknown, reasons that possibly might not lead to such wonderful things. But from experience, you know it's better to know hell, than wonder about paradise. A rule like many others you follow from day to day, minuet to minuet. Your tired, jaded; the walls are up and their made of adamantium. There isn't anything that can break them, you think, nothing can, never. Your name is a curse, a promise of destruction and fear. You're made to never know, to never feel. You don't even know what love is. But you knew enough that you were sure it didn't belong to you. Were. Now you don't know, because now you're sure that whatever it is that's swelling in your heart right know was caused by the little girl you took in so many years ago; the little girl who took your cursed name and jaded heart and turned it on its side. Now your name means so much more than destruction, now it brings safety, and you'd be damned if you didn't live up to it.
Others don't want to remember their name, don't want to remember what happened; that life never happened. You were so young, and small, you couldn't do anything to stop it. Your skin showed with unnatural color, unlivly green, peppered with black and blue. Terrified, that's what you felt, always. Every time you wake up, every time you're with people, every time you're alone. You can't escape it, you try to run, to forget, pretend, but it's always there, every time you write your name down on your school work you're reminded of what you are, who you've come from. What you were give as a life. You know your life is ruined when your own name brings you to rack shaking tears. It takes all your self control to not visibly flinch every time your name is called. You want a new name, one that's said only by people who care about you, a name you can be proud of. One that holds meaning of a new life, a life where you doesn't have to be afraid anymore. Not anymore.
A few people even have two names, with two completely different meanings. But sooner or later they always have to choose one of them over the other. Your cool, collected, patient, spontaneous, smart mouthed, and hot headed. You don't know who you are; you're two different people sharing the same body; half of you wants' to write that book so you can rub it in their faces. While the other half just wants to prove them right so you can watch it turn blow up in smoke. Two names, two personalities, two choices. Pick one. One or the other, it's not hard. It shouldn't be; but it always is. One name leads to a life surrounded by safety and assurance, but freedom, and true-self are the price you pay. The other forcing you into a world of cold, harsh reality, you're free to do whatever you please as long as you repay with a battle ready heart, innocents and love are lost to you. So you better pick carefully before your name isn't even yours anymore.
What is in a name? An identity? A home? A life? A love? A choice?
Maybe.
Many people believe it's their name that makes them who they are. Makes them who they've become.
But one person knows it's not. Knows, because she has seen life through their eyes, seen what they are, who they are, and knows that names are nothing compared to the people behind them. Compared to the people she loves.
And it's ok if they don't understand. They don't have to.
Because she does.
I'm proud to announce that my weirdness is expanding…sort-a'.
Characters included in this fic. Are Jamie, Ororo, Remy, Rogue, and Wolverine.
Try and guess who's who.
Thank you for reading.