Authors Notes: This fic is actually out of character for me, considering that I really liked that suit Rogue was wearing for the Phalanx thing and the Trial of Gambit. More I thought about it though, I realized just how many bad things happened to her when she was wearing it. I guess the deal of the story is that she´d rather not have around something that reminds her of times when she was nearly driven insane and she´d sooner let the past go.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I could afford a lawyer, which I can´t, so I´d most appreciate it if you didn´t sue.
((Foul Association))
by Christy S.
The untouchable lady opened the box of old clothes. She had dug deep in her drawers and thrown them in for a day when she was sure she would run away. She hadn´t of course, and that was why she was sorting them now. A few shirts and gloves of no consequence were quickly lain aside. When she came across the full-length body suit she paused.
It was old, but there was no doubt that it would still fit perfectly. Rogue brushed her single blaze of white hair from her jade eyes. What had ever possessed her to choose it? It wasn´t even in her regular colors. Purple all over with gold padding and Sh´iar symbols on the shoulders. She had simply grabbed it first, upon realizing that it would bare no skin and would bring on no accidental contact. She didn´t know that the uniform would carry so many hurtful memories..
"The most most confusing moments in mah life happened in this suit..." she muttered to herself. Then she cried. Very hurtful memories. The Phalanx (so many people killed...), Antarctica (the guilt in leaving Remy...), to the homecoming of her team (telling Ororo that Remy was dead...). Now that she thought about it, the collar of the thing resembled a Genoshan collar a little bit.
"Get a´ hold of ya self, gall!" she criticized herself. She looked at it again in an attempt to remain unattached. She held it against herself in the mirror. It wasn´t the same. Her hair was short now. No longer in the long pony-tail which had originally accompanied the outfit. Her eyes were not as confused. Her relationship with Remy, stable. Forgiveness long since delt out. Her hands were red from popping out Wolverine´s claws. She had become accustomed to small pains. And large ones for that matter. Joseph, Moira, Piotr, and Betsy. All long since dead, all long since mourned for.
Rogue laid the outfit on her bed and floated downstairs. She went over to were Remy was chatting with Ororo and asked him. "Got and match for me, Sugah?" Remy handed one to her, a question in his red on black eyes. It wasn´t every day he carried a light on him. She had made him quit smoking long ago. A little while after Antarctica, actually.
Rogue ignored his interrogative gaze. Heading back up the stairway with her prize, she smiled at her teammates. Grabbing the Sh´iar clothing once again, she flew out her bedroom window.
Finding a spot on the grounds with no grass, she landed there. Holding the match in one hand and the clothing in the other. She allowed the memories to envelope her once more. She looked at the suit. Phalanx, Antarctica, Magneto, homecoming, Joseph, Z´nox Chamber, ...Remy.
She whipped out the match, threw down the suit, and burnt it. She watched as the well-made alien fabric slowly burned. By the time the very ashes crumbled, it was dark.
Checking to see that she wouldn´t start a full-scale fire, she flew off. She found her favorite Cajun in the rec room, pondering his lady-love´s request.
"Thanks, Hon." she smiled.
"Anytin´ f´r ya, chere." She snuggled up against him, stating that she was no longer in the foul mood she had been that morning.
"Feelin´ better?" He asked.
"Much, Sugah. Much." And she smiled again.
Finale Authors Notes: Ok, some of you are probably wondering about Remy´s quitting smoking. I don´t have all the issues after Uncanny #350, so I can´t say exactly when he quit, but anyone else notice that since Claremont started writing X-treme Remy hasn´t popped a cigarette once? Sigh
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I could afford a lawyer, which I can´t, so I´d most appreciate it if you didn´t sue.
((Foul Association))
by Christy S.
The untouchable lady opened the box of old clothes. She had dug deep in her drawers and thrown them in for a day when she was sure she would run away. She hadn´t of course, and that was why she was sorting them now. A few shirts and gloves of no consequence were quickly lain aside. When she came across the full-length body suit she paused.
It was old, but there was no doubt that it would still fit perfectly. Rogue brushed her single blaze of white hair from her jade eyes. What had ever possessed her to choose it? It wasn´t even in her regular colors. Purple all over with gold padding and Sh´iar symbols on the shoulders. She had simply grabbed it first, upon realizing that it would bare no skin and would bring on no accidental contact. She didn´t know that the uniform would carry so many hurtful memories..
"The most most confusing moments in mah life happened in this suit..." she muttered to herself. Then she cried. Very hurtful memories. The Phalanx (so many people killed...), Antarctica (the guilt in leaving Remy...), to the homecoming of her team (telling Ororo that Remy was dead...). Now that she thought about it, the collar of the thing resembled a Genoshan collar a little bit.
"Get a´ hold of ya self, gall!" she criticized herself. She looked at it again in an attempt to remain unattached. She held it against herself in the mirror. It wasn´t the same. Her hair was short now. No longer in the long pony-tail which had originally accompanied the outfit. Her eyes were not as confused. Her relationship with Remy, stable. Forgiveness long since delt out. Her hands were red from popping out Wolverine´s claws. She had become accustomed to small pains. And large ones for that matter. Joseph, Moira, Piotr, and Betsy. All long since dead, all long since mourned for.
Rogue laid the outfit on her bed and floated downstairs. She went over to were Remy was chatting with Ororo and asked him. "Got and match for me, Sugah?" Remy handed one to her, a question in his red on black eyes. It wasn´t every day he carried a light on him. She had made him quit smoking long ago. A little while after Antarctica, actually.
Rogue ignored his interrogative gaze. Heading back up the stairway with her prize, she smiled at her teammates. Grabbing the Sh´iar clothing once again, she flew out her bedroom window.
Finding a spot on the grounds with no grass, she landed there. Holding the match in one hand and the clothing in the other. She allowed the memories to envelope her once more. She looked at the suit. Phalanx, Antarctica, Magneto, homecoming, Joseph, Z´nox Chamber, ...Remy.
She whipped out the match, threw down the suit, and burnt it. She watched as the well-made alien fabric slowly burned. By the time the very ashes crumbled, it was dark.
Checking to see that she wouldn´t start a full-scale fire, she flew off. She found her favorite Cajun in the rec room, pondering his lady-love´s request.
"Thanks, Hon." she smiled.
"Anytin´ f´r ya, chere." She snuggled up against him, stating that she was no longer in the foul mood she had been that morning.
"Feelin´ better?" He asked.
"Much, Sugah. Much." And she smiled again.
Finale Authors Notes: Ok, some of you are probably wondering about Remy´s quitting smoking. I don´t have all the issues after Uncanny #350, so I can´t say exactly when he quit, but anyone else notice that since Claremont started writing X-treme Remy hasn´t popped a cigarette once? Sigh