Note: This is a companion piece to Lyssie's "I Will be the Last to Know." This story can stand alone, but I highly recommend reading the aforementioned story. I have her permission to be writing this.

Disclaimer: Characters contained within belong to Marvel. I'm not making any money. Kindly don't sue.

Dedication: To Ana Cotton. My virtual twin and occasional Rock of Gibralter.

No Pop-Up or MSTing please.


One Promise Too Late
By: Beverly McIntyre

He crouched down, head hanging against the wind. Blond hair rustled against his pale skin. His breath came in ragged and out like the deepest of sighs. The tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, the only warmth in the alabaster city.

He had been too late. Too late to offer a strong shoulder. Too late to hold her frail hand in his fine-boned one. Too late to see the last embers of light fade into the pitch. Too late to say good-bye.

The X-Men had tried to get the message to him. He had been one of them and deserved to know. Time flowed so differently between here and there. By the time he had arrived, she had slipped out the back door, leaving only a husk.

Yet even the husk had gone by the time he had arrived. It was now buried beneath his feet. Six feet beyond his grasp. Beyond any means he had of seeing her last moments. He could have had some sort of ending. He could have seen the credits roll with his own eyes. A means to know she was gone for good. But that was taken from him by the relentless dance of time.

Longshot looked up, eyes still streaming with tears. The warmth of the tear tracks was quickly replaced by a bitter cold as wind-driven snow whipped past. He tentatively reached out, brushing fingertips across white marble. He caught images. The block of marble being removed from the earth and hewn into shape. A craftsman picking up chisel and hammer and painstakingly beginning to carve out an O. The indifference of stone against the repeated blows. Nothing of her.

She had left before he had even managed to get into this dimension. He came home to an empty house. There were still people there but nothing was inside. They were all hollow. Hollow like the bones that could keep him aloft on the winds. Hollow like every sense felt.

He pushed her name past his lips with a choked sob. He fell forward onto his knees, black leather sending white flakes dancing away. He barely noticed the warm blanket placed around his shoulders. He was oblivious to the pair of strong arms that wrapped around him.

"Ssshh."

He sobbed.

"Ssshh. It's okay."

No. It wasn't. She was gone, and he hadn't had time to say good-bye. What kind of friend didn't say good-bye?

"Ssshh. It's okay, sugah. It's okay." Rogue pulled Longshot in tighter.

"W-why, Rogue? Why?" His eye never left the tombstone. He pleaded. It was as if he hoped his cries were enough. Enough to bring her back. Enough for time at least to spin back.

"I don't know why, honey. Sometimes, it just happens." She had no real answer for him. Rogue was fighting those questions herself.

"But not to us. Not to heroes. Not to St-" He choked. He couldn't admit she was gone. There was no rerun. No way to catch her again. She was canceled. Now and forever.

"Ssshhh," Rogue soothed. "How about we go inside? Get some hot cocoa?"

His mouth moved but nothing came out.

"C'mon. Let's go warm up." She pulled him to his feet. She gently steered him toward the mansion. A biting wind kicked up and seared across the bare skin of her face. She shivered and nestled in against Longshot's shoulder as they slowly walked toward the mansion.

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~fin~