To Be Strong
Disclaimer: This fic involves a few creations of Marvel, namely Ororo 'Storm' Munroe, Kurt 'Nightcrawler' Wagner, Piotr 'Colossus' Rasputin and the High Evolutionary. I don't own them, neither am I stupid enough to imagine people would pay for this fic. So don't sue.
Note: This takes place during the events of X-Men #99, from the perspective of Peter Rasputin.
***
Kurt, you were wrong.
I suppose, in my own mind, that I have always wanted this.
To be the man I truly feel inside. No more uncertainty about my place in the world. No more rejection, and fear, and hate. No more pain.
Perhaps it is shameful to have felt this way. To have never been perfectly happy about who I was. And to have felt this way knowing that there were many who had to suffer far more than I. Those who had to live with the knowledge that they were hated for simply being who they were, inside AND out. I could always hide away that part of me; to remove the hate, to pretend the rejection wasn't there. To mask the pain. To simply have the choice to think of myself as I am now, never to embrace who I really am, as you have. Kurt, you have been scorned for your physical appearance since your youth. And yet you have prospered, revelled in yourself. It is a strength I will always hold you in high regard for.
Yet when that Armoured God appeared to us in the afternoon sun, demanding our acceptance of his actions, I was happy. We were free.
I ignored the feelings of those I consider my dearest friends. My own selfish pleasure blinded me from the real truth. And even when I knew this truth, I hid it. Trusting that the words of the High Evolutionary would come to pass. That we would all come to accept this 'gift' from above.
But the events of this last week have cured me. I can truly see once more.
I can see Ororo suffer under her regal air. I see how she weeps outside, the chill of winter stinging her cheeks. And her soul. Away from those of us who rely on her. Too often I see the pain in her eyes as another flash of lightning illuminates the sky, a flash which she knows cannot be her own doing.
And here I see you, Kurt, dancing through the air. So fearless. So free.
But it is not you, anymore.
I can see you trailing behind your former self, now. And I can see how it wounds you. You aspire to be the man you once were. And yet he dances above you, as you doggedly climb free of the safety net once again. I can see.
I can see that I have what I had always wanted.
Why, then, do I feel so hollow?
Once upon a time, I could move mountains. I could stop a freight train with my bare hands. I was invulnerable, unstoppable.
I was Atlas. I could lift the world.
But there is no more of that.
Kurt, you say that I lost a choice, The choice to become a steel Titan, being able to change to and fro without any restraint. But, looking back, I know that I had no choice at all. Just as you cannot adjust to life without your real body, I know now, that I cannot live without being the steel Titan.
I have lost a part of myself that I used to wish I didn't have.
And I am afraid.
I will never be Atlas again.
But I cannot let you all down. You all feel that I am finally happy, that I am finally who I have always wanted to be. And I will accept this facade for now.
Some time ago, I saw a beautiful picture, illustrating a young woman holding onto a lone rock, in the middle of a sea, during a terrible storm. The caption underneath this painting was:
I am the rock.
For a long time, I pondered this image. And now I finally understand it.
It is my turn to be the rock. I will be there for you all, to face your fears alongside you, and to support you in your time of need. Kurt, I was wrong. But I will now try to make it right.
For you, friends, I will be strong.
***
Thanks to hetros, my beta-reader, for his help in tailoring some of my confuzzling writing. Much appreciated.
Disclaimer: This fic involves a few creations of Marvel, namely Ororo 'Storm' Munroe, Kurt 'Nightcrawler' Wagner, Piotr 'Colossus' Rasputin and the High Evolutionary. I don't own them, neither am I stupid enough to imagine people would pay for this fic. So don't sue.
Note: This takes place during the events of X-Men #99, from the perspective of Peter Rasputin.
***
Kurt, you were wrong.
I suppose, in my own mind, that I have always wanted this.
To be the man I truly feel inside. No more uncertainty about my place in the world. No more rejection, and fear, and hate. No more pain.
Perhaps it is shameful to have felt this way. To have never been perfectly happy about who I was. And to have felt this way knowing that there were many who had to suffer far more than I. Those who had to live with the knowledge that they were hated for simply being who they were, inside AND out. I could always hide away that part of me; to remove the hate, to pretend the rejection wasn't there. To mask the pain. To simply have the choice to think of myself as I am now, never to embrace who I really am, as you have. Kurt, you have been scorned for your physical appearance since your youth. And yet you have prospered, revelled in yourself. It is a strength I will always hold you in high regard for.
Yet when that Armoured God appeared to us in the afternoon sun, demanding our acceptance of his actions, I was happy. We were free.
I ignored the feelings of those I consider my dearest friends. My own selfish pleasure blinded me from the real truth. And even when I knew this truth, I hid it. Trusting that the words of the High Evolutionary would come to pass. That we would all come to accept this 'gift' from above.
But the events of this last week have cured me. I can truly see once more.
I can see Ororo suffer under her regal air. I see how she weeps outside, the chill of winter stinging her cheeks. And her soul. Away from those of us who rely on her. Too often I see the pain in her eyes as another flash of lightning illuminates the sky, a flash which she knows cannot be her own doing.
And here I see you, Kurt, dancing through the air. So fearless. So free.
But it is not you, anymore.
I can see you trailing behind your former self, now. And I can see how it wounds you. You aspire to be the man you once were. And yet he dances above you, as you doggedly climb free of the safety net once again. I can see.
I can see that I have what I had always wanted.
Why, then, do I feel so hollow?
Once upon a time, I could move mountains. I could stop a freight train with my bare hands. I was invulnerable, unstoppable.
I was Atlas. I could lift the world.
But there is no more of that.
Kurt, you say that I lost a choice, The choice to become a steel Titan, being able to change to and fro without any restraint. But, looking back, I know that I had no choice at all. Just as you cannot adjust to life without your real body, I know now, that I cannot live without being the steel Titan.
I have lost a part of myself that I used to wish I didn't have.
And I am afraid.
I will never be Atlas again.
But I cannot let you all down. You all feel that I am finally happy, that I am finally who I have always wanted to be. And I will accept this facade for now.
Some time ago, I saw a beautiful picture, illustrating a young woman holding onto a lone rock, in the middle of a sea, during a terrible storm. The caption underneath this painting was:
I am the rock.
For a long time, I pondered this image. And now I finally understand it.
It is my turn to be the rock. I will be there for you all, to face your fears alongside you, and to support you in your time of need. Kurt, I was wrong. But I will now try to make it right.
For you, friends, I will be strong.
***
Thanks to hetros, my beta-reader, for his help in tailoring some of my confuzzling writing. Much appreciated.