AFTER SCHOOL:
"Welcome to my humble home." The door swung open to admit Truman and Rogue. He slung his backpack off of his shoulder and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. "Here, you can put your stuff here, and hang out on the couch. I'll get the video camera."
Rogue perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch's seat and looked about the room. Like any living room, there was a television set-up, a couch facing the TV, and framed photographs above the "entertainment center".
Truman came clattering in from another room. His arms were filled with an old video camera and AC adapter. "Well, here it is. It's old, but it still works."
Rogue picked up her copy of 1984 and read the scene they had decided to do. "Hey Truman, we might have a problem."
"What?"
"Well, Ah can play Julia, an' ya can play Winston, but who is O'Brien?"
Truman considered this, and right on cue, the front door opened. Truman turned to see who had come in. "Dad can play him!" He ran up to his father. "How was your day, Dad? Will you help us? It's for a school project."
"Uh, sure. What do I do?"
Truman handed him the book. "Will you please play O'Brien?"
"Sure, Truman. Let me just put my stuff down, read my part, and sit for a couple of seconds."
"Yeah, thanks Dad." Truman's father disappeared into one of the rooms. "Well, while we wait for Dad, we can practice. Where should we start the scene?"
"From the part where O'Brien turns off th' telescreen?"
" 'Kay, that works. And where do we end?"
Rogue flipped through a bit. "This O'Brien talks a lot. How 'bout we skip over the part with th' food and move raht ta th' real conversation. We can end at th' part where O'Brien says 'Good, then that is settled'."
Truman looked at his own book. "Yeah, that's a good place to stop. I didn't really like the manservant dude anyway." His father entered the living room. "Hey, Dad, you ready?"
"Yes. Where do we start?"
Rogue repeated her instructions and Truman's father made markings in his son's book. Truman set up the camera and they ran through the scene. None of them had made any mistakes, and the two students decided that the video only needed a bit of commentary to make it perfect.
Truman took the camera off of the tripod. "Here, you do the commentary. You're much more comfortable in front of the camera anyways."
"Okay." Rogue described the scene to the camera, and explained its significance in the novel. She used sweeping hand gestures, and became thoroughly engrossed with her interpretation.
When she had finished, Truman turned off the camera. "Aaand, cut. You're really good at this. Why aren't you in the drama club or something?"
Rogue waved a dismissive hand. "Ah don't think they accept mutants. Besahdes, been there, done that."
Truman hooked the camera up to the VCR and pressed play. It showed the part where Rogue acting as Julia refused to be separated from Winston. "Unless being a good actress is part of your mutant powers, I don't see what's so wrong. I've never heard of the acting mutation." He began recording the short film onto a blank tape.
"Yeah, well, tell that ta them." Rogue stood up from where she had been sitting and studied the photos above the television more closely. "Who's this?" She pointed at a wedding portrait.
"Oh, that's my mom and dad when they got married."
"And this?"
"Heh. That's me as a baby. I was a cue ball."
"No doubt." Rogue paused at another family picture. "Who's that?"
Truman looked at the figure in the wheelchair. "That's my little sister. She was born disabled. I. I," he looked down at his feet, and then smiled sheepishly. "I never can exactly remember the scientific name for her condition, but she was born with too much brain fluid and took sick right after. It affected her developmentally."
Rogue's eyes widened. She'd assumed Truman was the average Joe, playing soccer by day, attending Boy Scouts by night. Not someone who dealt with anything different. "Where is she?"
Truman grinned. "Millie doesn't live here. We couldn't give her that twenty-four hour care. She lives in a sort of . residence with other kids."
"Oh." Rogue sat down. "Is she.? Is Millie the reason you're not afraid?"
"Of you? Well, yeah." Truman remained standing. "I just see it as the luck of the draw. I was given brown eyes, Millicent got hazel, and you got green. Just the same, you got superpowers, I didn't, and Millie got her wheelchair. I probably got the worst deal." He shrugged. "Brown eyes are boring."
"Truman, Ah," she searched for the right words. "Ah'm sorry."
"Why? 'Cause she's disabled? Don't be. I was only three when Millie was born, and I've grown up with her. Actually, I'm lucky. She taught me to accept others the way they are."
"Really?" Rogue thought of her housemates. Kurt still wore his image inducer, and Evan had left the X-Men completely. Neither of them felt that they could be truly accepted, they were too fearful that they wouldn't be accepted any other way.
"Yeah. You should see how people react when I'm out pushing her wheelchair. There are only two reactions. Either people can't take their eyes off of the wheelchair, or it's like we have an invisibility shield on and they can see right through us. Never in between." Rogue shifted uncomfortably. Ever since she had been branded a mutant, the same things had been happening to her.
"There we go!" Truman pressed Eject on the VCR. "All done! Do you need a ride to your Institute?"
Rogue shook her head. "Nah. It ain't that far away. See ya later, Truman." She picked up her things and headed to the front door.
Truman ran to intercept her. "I just thought of something. Do you want to meet Millie? My family is going to visit her on Sunday. You can come along, too. I think she would do you some good."
Rogue mentally checked her schedule. "Sure, Ah'm free on Sunday. Can Ah bring a friend?"
Truman's expression became thoughtful. "Who?"
"Kurt Wagner."
He recognized the name. Obviously, he didn't think that the class clown really belonged. "Um, sure, if you really want him to. I suggest you warn him, though."
"Yeah, okay. See ya Sunday. Ya know where th' Institute is, right?" He nodded, and she left the house.
**
A/N: There is no romance in this fic! Geez! It'd only take away from the whole point of the story. Sorry. If you want romance, go to my other fic. One more chapter on this one to go.
Truman: a faithful, or loyal man (Old English) Millicent: (1) strength, (2) thousand saints
"Welcome to my humble home." The door swung open to admit Truman and Rogue. He slung his backpack off of his shoulder and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. "Here, you can put your stuff here, and hang out on the couch. I'll get the video camera."
Rogue perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch's seat and looked about the room. Like any living room, there was a television set-up, a couch facing the TV, and framed photographs above the "entertainment center".
Truman came clattering in from another room. His arms were filled with an old video camera and AC adapter. "Well, here it is. It's old, but it still works."
Rogue picked up her copy of 1984 and read the scene they had decided to do. "Hey Truman, we might have a problem."
"What?"
"Well, Ah can play Julia, an' ya can play Winston, but who is O'Brien?"
Truman considered this, and right on cue, the front door opened. Truman turned to see who had come in. "Dad can play him!" He ran up to his father. "How was your day, Dad? Will you help us? It's for a school project."
"Uh, sure. What do I do?"
Truman handed him the book. "Will you please play O'Brien?"
"Sure, Truman. Let me just put my stuff down, read my part, and sit for a couple of seconds."
"Yeah, thanks Dad." Truman's father disappeared into one of the rooms. "Well, while we wait for Dad, we can practice. Where should we start the scene?"
"From the part where O'Brien turns off th' telescreen?"
" 'Kay, that works. And where do we end?"
Rogue flipped through a bit. "This O'Brien talks a lot. How 'bout we skip over the part with th' food and move raht ta th' real conversation. We can end at th' part where O'Brien says 'Good, then that is settled'."
Truman looked at his own book. "Yeah, that's a good place to stop. I didn't really like the manservant dude anyway." His father entered the living room. "Hey, Dad, you ready?"
"Yes. Where do we start?"
Rogue repeated her instructions and Truman's father made markings in his son's book. Truman set up the camera and they ran through the scene. None of them had made any mistakes, and the two students decided that the video only needed a bit of commentary to make it perfect.
Truman took the camera off of the tripod. "Here, you do the commentary. You're much more comfortable in front of the camera anyways."
"Okay." Rogue described the scene to the camera, and explained its significance in the novel. She used sweeping hand gestures, and became thoroughly engrossed with her interpretation.
When she had finished, Truman turned off the camera. "Aaand, cut. You're really good at this. Why aren't you in the drama club or something?"
Rogue waved a dismissive hand. "Ah don't think they accept mutants. Besahdes, been there, done that."
Truman hooked the camera up to the VCR and pressed play. It showed the part where Rogue acting as Julia refused to be separated from Winston. "Unless being a good actress is part of your mutant powers, I don't see what's so wrong. I've never heard of the acting mutation." He began recording the short film onto a blank tape.
"Yeah, well, tell that ta them." Rogue stood up from where she had been sitting and studied the photos above the television more closely. "Who's this?" She pointed at a wedding portrait.
"Oh, that's my mom and dad when they got married."
"And this?"
"Heh. That's me as a baby. I was a cue ball."
"No doubt." Rogue paused at another family picture. "Who's that?"
Truman looked at the figure in the wheelchair. "That's my little sister. She was born disabled. I. I," he looked down at his feet, and then smiled sheepishly. "I never can exactly remember the scientific name for her condition, but she was born with too much brain fluid and took sick right after. It affected her developmentally."
Rogue's eyes widened. She'd assumed Truman was the average Joe, playing soccer by day, attending Boy Scouts by night. Not someone who dealt with anything different. "Where is she?"
Truman grinned. "Millie doesn't live here. We couldn't give her that twenty-four hour care. She lives in a sort of . residence with other kids."
"Oh." Rogue sat down. "Is she.? Is Millie the reason you're not afraid?"
"Of you? Well, yeah." Truman remained standing. "I just see it as the luck of the draw. I was given brown eyes, Millicent got hazel, and you got green. Just the same, you got superpowers, I didn't, and Millie got her wheelchair. I probably got the worst deal." He shrugged. "Brown eyes are boring."
"Truman, Ah," she searched for the right words. "Ah'm sorry."
"Why? 'Cause she's disabled? Don't be. I was only three when Millie was born, and I've grown up with her. Actually, I'm lucky. She taught me to accept others the way they are."
"Really?" Rogue thought of her housemates. Kurt still wore his image inducer, and Evan had left the X-Men completely. Neither of them felt that they could be truly accepted, they were too fearful that they wouldn't be accepted any other way.
"Yeah. You should see how people react when I'm out pushing her wheelchair. There are only two reactions. Either people can't take their eyes off of the wheelchair, or it's like we have an invisibility shield on and they can see right through us. Never in between." Rogue shifted uncomfortably. Ever since she had been branded a mutant, the same things had been happening to her.
"There we go!" Truman pressed Eject on the VCR. "All done! Do you need a ride to your Institute?"
Rogue shook her head. "Nah. It ain't that far away. See ya later, Truman." She picked up her things and headed to the front door.
Truman ran to intercept her. "I just thought of something. Do you want to meet Millie? My family is going to visit her on Sunday. You can come along, too. I think she would do you some good."
Rogue mentally checked her schedule. "Sure, Ah'm free on Sunday. Can Ah bring a friend?"
Truman's expression became thoughtful. "Who?"
"Kurt Wagner."
He recognized the name. Obviously, he didn't think that the class clown really belonged. "Um, sure, if you really want him to. I suggest you warn him, though."
"Yeah, okay. See ya Sunday. Ya know where th' Institute is, right?" He nodded, and she left the house.
**
A/N: There is no romance in this fic! Geez! It'd only take away from the whole point of the story. Sorry. If you want romance, go to my other fic. One more chapter on this one to go.
Truman: a faithful, or loyal man (Old English) Millicent: (1) strength, (2) thousand saints