Snow in April: A Wedding Story
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.
Chapter Six: The Reason
Author's Note: This should be long enough to call it a chapter. I named it after the song recorded by Celine Dion since it's sad and sensible for this story. No humor here, just angsty angst. I think that's what you get while trying to write and watch "Minority Report" at the same time. Enjoy!
Warning: Some violent subjects. John and Lance become foes. No real romance. But only for this chapter *you can stop holding your breaths*
January 18, 2003 2:22 a.m., in my bed
I feel terrible. You know that gut-wrenching feeling that you get when you know that you've broken your mother's grandmother's vase or when you lost your pet's chew toy?
Well, I don't, considering I never really had those things.
But to be certain, I'm literally below anything from this point forward.
My date was a disaster. I mean, it was great for the first fifteen minutes, and then it was interrupted, I got slammed into a wall, and finally caught in the rain. Of course, that was after the first marvelous, most spectacular minutes (sarcasm here) I had with John. Before HELL became a reality. Well, at least for me.
It all started with John. He didn't pick me up in a Ferrari or a Volkswagen or even a modest station wagon.
He walked.
Okay, I'm not really used to the dating bonanza, but I knew for a fact that when he doesn't come in a car, there's something up.
And there was something up - he wants to ~talk~.
So there I stood, with the brown tunic and black skirt, waiting and then all of a sudden, there's this knock and I answer it. It's John, of course, and he's got roses and a great, big smile on his gallant face. Then I took the roses, put them aside, and walked proudly out to discover - he had no ride. He explained that Magneto wouldn't let him take the jet and started going into these really big excuses, until I shushed him up and told him it's a great day to walk anyway.
The restaurant was Vianne Seaux - a small eatery that served Italian food. It wasn't far from the Institute at all (five blocks at the most) and sat off the corner square of Magnolia Gardens. He had made reservations like he said, and we were seated in the middle, a candle and single flower in between us. While it all, John was still talking about himself and I wasn't really listening to him, and then heard, "and the fact that I came to Magneto and met Remy and Peter made all the difference." when I heard the door suddenly clang open. Everyone in the restaurant looked up (there weren't many people actually) to see Peter, standing there, his cloak wet with rain, a look of terror on his face. He moved away from the front door, passed the reservation administrator, and plopped himself down at our table (but of course asking to join first).
John was outraged. "Peter," he hissed, "what do you ~think~ you are doing?!"
Peter looked at him with a hard eye. "I need to speak wit Miss Rogue."
John was annoyed with such a request. "Now?! Can't you see we're in the middle of something?!" he moved his hands, palms up, across the table. I held my own hand up.
"No, John," I said, reaching for his hand, "it's okay." And turning to Peter, said, "What's going on? What's so important..."
Peter didn't even let me finish. "Rogue," he rasped, "Koshka's boy friend..."
"Koshka?" I rose an eyebrow. Peter closed his eyes, trying to find the American word.
"Kitty's boy friend - he knows!" I looked at him, concerned.
"Knows what?" I asked. Suddenly, there was a violent shaking, and everyone is thrown off their chairs. I yelled at John to get everyone out, knowing Lance was there.
"He knows it's me." With those final words of Peter, the front door was knocked over, and Lance appeared, his face streaking with sweat, not to mention anger.
"You!" he pointed to Peter with a sick trace of malice. Peter automatically forced his metal plates upon his body and I watched horrified and unable to move. Lance took a step forward; the ground shook.
"This whole time, I thought it was that fuzzy ELF or that spiked LIZARD in that mansion with her. And do you know how many nights I went without sleep," -he broke a vase here- "thinking that some dude is up there possibly f**king my Cat?!"
Peter's face was unmoved. I watched, in wonderment, trying to see how much of a mess Peter was in.
"And then I come home," -he raised a piece of paper in his scrawny fingers with a damned look on his face, "and find THIS and it all said it here." He opened the note, and read in a sickening voice, "Piotr is up to all this. Stop him if you can." He looked up, and I saw a brilliant fire burn in the depths of those unleaded eyes of his. "And damn right I will!"
By then, everyone but Peter, John, Lance, and I were left in the small, about to be torn apart restaurant. Realizing this, I threw myself at Lance, intending to absorb some of his powers, but he split the ground, flinging me against the wall behind us. Peter came to my defense and tossed a hard fist at Lance. He flew threw the door frame and laid there, strewn with blood running down his face. When he tried to get up, John had placed a foot on his torso, and I heard him say:
"Now, mate. Why you have to go believe so dumb note like that? I'm the darn guy you're lookin' for! Yup, you're looking at the bonifide Sheila jumper right in the eye. I'll be doing none like you think, you ground rockin' caper, and I'll know better now that I've seen what you gone and done to Rogue and to make Peter throw a punch to knock you off your rocker! I'll say. Now," he held out a hand to help Lance up, "make loose ends meet?" Lance pushed his hand away, and got himself up. By then, all the blood had been washed away, and he stood, giving us all a grimacing look of defeat. He walked away without another act or talk of malevolence.
Peter helped me up and John joined us all. He gave him a scolding glance.
"See what I told you!" he said, shaking his head, "You could've got Rogue killed and possibly us all! Don't you see how much your wit and your ignorance is making us all suffer? I rather.."
"Oh, shut up John!" I cried, taking Peter's arm. He stopped, his mouth hanging in mid-sentence. There was an awkward silence before John turned around and walked away without another thought to stay.
I watched after him, thinking how merciless he was until I noticed Peter's face splashed with tears. He had changed back to himself again, shaking, and I knew he thought better of all of this.
"I never meant to hurt him," he said, slowly. I took his arm and walked him out of the restaurant. Rain was pouring, and I remember how steely it looked - like Peter's tears.
"I know, Petey, I know." We stood there, side by side, and watched carefully the fleeting cars. Soon, news crews and police cars would board up the place. I notified him of this and heard him sigh with despair. I offered to walk him back to Magneto's, but he said that he'd be fine. Then he offered to take me back, but I refused, even without a hood or an umbrella, and we walked our separate ways through the shallow rain.
It was a long way back. The tunic was drenched and blotchy as it stuck to my skin; my black skirt wet with pitiless rain. My hair sunk and caught against my face and neck while my boots got soaked and my make-up was a mess.
My whole life is a mess, come to think of it.
Then half way down another block or so, a car came to my side and rolled down the window.
It was Remy, and he was in Scott's car with the cloth hood up.
"Get in!" he told me sternly, and I obeyed, seating myself while drenched to the skin against the leather. I put my hands on my face and frowned. The rest of the way was quiet until we were parked in the garage. Sitting there amidst the silence, I could hear Remy's breathing, the darkness separating us both. Then he spoke.
"Everything all right?"
The question was bold, almost as though it was meant. I felt tears rise to my eyes once more. The real nightmare was that I found myself crying silently in front of the guy - crying about everything: my life, John, Peter, the wedding, Kitty, Remy, even Lance. Crying because I couldn't answer; I couldn't say, no, everything's not all right because of you. You are the reason I love and yet you choose to ignore that justified fact.
Then I unlocked the door and bolted out, my tears mixing with the rain. Ran and stayed in the bathroom, cried some more, came out semi-dry and worn, changed and tried to sleep (which is hard when you're half dry and depressed). So I resort to you, and so on and so forth.
The same crap playing over and over again.
Kitty, I've found, hasn't moved from her bed, completely oblivious to everything.
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.
Chapter Six: The Reason
Author's Note: This should be long enough to call it a chapter. I named it after the song recorded by Celine Dion since it's sad and sensible for this story. No humor here, just angsty angst. I think that's what you get while trying to write and watch "Minority Report" at the same time. Enjoy!
Warning: Some violent subjects. John and Lance become foes. No real romance. But only for this chapter *you can stop holding your breaths*
January 18, 2003 2:22 a.m., in my bed
I feel terrible. You know that gut-wrenching feeling that you get when you know that you've broken your mother's grandmother's vase or when you lost your pet's chew toy?
Well, I don't, considering I never really had those things.
But to be certain, I'm literally below anything from this point forward.
My date was a disaster. I mean, it was great for the first fifteen minutes, and then it was interrupted, I got slammed into a wall, and finally caught in the rain. Of course, that was after the first marvelous, most spectacular minutes (sarcasm here) I had with John. Before HELL became a reality. Well, at least for me.
It all started with John. He didn't pick me up in a Ferrari or a Volkswagen or even a modest station wagon.
He walked.
Okay, I'm not really used to the dating bonanza, but I knew for a fact that when he doesn't come in a car, there's something up.
And there was something up - he wants to ~talk~.
So there I stood, with the brown tunic and black skirt, waiting and then all of a sudden, there's this knock and I answer it. It's John, of course, and he's got roses and a great, big smile on his gallant face. Then I took the roses, put them aside, and walked proudly out to discover - he had no ride. He explained that Magneto wouldn't let him take the jet and started going into these really big excuses, until I shushed him up and told him it's a great day to walk anyway.
The restaurant was Vianne Seaux - a small eatery that served Italian food. It wasn't far from the Institute at all (five blocks at the most) and sat off the corner square of Magnolia Gardens. He had made reservations like he said, and we were seated in the middle, a candle and single flower in between us. While it all, John was still talking about himself and I wasn't really listening to him, and then heard, "and the fact that I came to Magneto and met Remy and Peter made all the difference." when I heard the door suddenly clang open. Everyone in the restaurant looked up (there weren't many people actually) to see Peter, standing there, his cloak wet with rain, a look of terror on his face. He moved away from the front door, passed the reservation administrator, and plopped himself down at our table (but of course asking to join first).
John was outraged. "Peter," he hissed, "what do you ~think~ you are doing?!"
Peter looked at him with a hard eye. "I need to speak wit Miss Rogue."
John was annoyed with such a request. "Now?! Can't you see we're in the middle of something?!" he moved his hands, palms up, across the table. I held my own hand up.
"No, John," I said, reaching for his hand, "it's okay." And turning to Peter, said, "What's going on? What's so important..."
Peter didn't even let me finish. "Rogue," he rasped, "Koshka's boy friend..."
"Koshka?" I rose an eyebrow. Peter closed his eyes, trying to find the American word.
"Kitty's boy friend - he knows!" I looked at him, concerned.
"Knows what?" I asked. Suddenly, there was a violent shaking, and everyone is thrown off their chairs. I yelled at John to get everyone out, knowing Lance was there.
"He knows it's me." With those final words of Peter, the front door was knocked over, and Lance appeared, his face streaking with sweat, not to mention anger.
"You!" he pointed to Peter with a sick trace of malice. Peter automatically forced his metal plates upon his body and I watched horrified and unable to move. Lance took a step forward; the ground shook.
"This whole time, I thought it was that fuzzy ELF or that spiked LIZARD in that mansion with her. And do you know how many nights I went without sleep," -he broke a vase here- "thinking that some dude is up there possibly f**king my Cat?!"
Peter's face was unmoved. I watched, in wonderment, trying to see how much of a mess Peter was in.
"And then I come home," -he raised a piece of paper in his scrawny fingers with a damned look on his face, "and find THIS and it all said it here." He opened the note, and read in a sickening voice, "Piotr is up to all this. Stop him if you can." He looked up, and I saw a brilliant fire burn in the depths of those unleaded eyes of his. "And damn right I will!"
By then, everyone but Peter, John, Lance, and I were left in the small, about to be torn apart restaurant. Realizing this, I threw myself at Lance, intending to absorb some of his powers, but he split the ground, flinging me against the wall behind us. Peter came to my defense and tossed a hard fist at Lance. He flew threw the door frame and laid there, strewn with blood running down his face. When he tried to get up, John had placed a foot on his torso, and I heard him say:
"Now, mate. Why you have to go believe so dumb note like that? I'm the darn guy you're lookin' for! Yup, you're looking at the bonifide Sheila jumper right in the eye. I'll be doing none like you think, you ground rockin' caper, and I'll know better now that I've seen what you gone and done to Rogue and to make Peter throw a punch to knock you off your rocker! I'll say. Now," he held out a hand to help Lance up, "make loose ends meet?" Lance pushed his hand away, and got himself up. By then, all the blood had been washed away, and he stood, giving us all a grimacing look of defeat. He walked away without another act or talk of malevolence.
Peter helped me up and John joined us all. He gave him a scolding glance.
"See what I told you!" he said, shaking his head, "You could've got Rogue killed and possibly us all! Don't you see how much your wit and your ignorance is making us all suffer? I rather.."
"Oh, shut up John!" I cried, taking Peter's arm. He stopped, his mouth hanging in mid-sentence. There was an awkward silence before John turned around and walked away without another thought to stay.
I watched after him, thinking how merciless he was until I noticed Peter's face splashed with tears. He had changed back to himself again, shaking, and I knew he thought better of all of this.
"I never meant to hurt him," he said, slowly. I took his arm and walked him out of the restaurant. Rain was pouring, and I remember how steely it looked - like Peter's tears.
"I know, Petey, I know." We stood there, side by side, and watched carefully the fleeting cars. Soon, news crews and police cars would board up the place. I notified him of this and heard him sigh with despair. I offered to walk him back to Magneto's, but he said that he'd be fine. Then he offered to take me back, but I refused, even without a hood or an umbrella, and we walked our separate ways through the shallow rain.
It was a long way back. The tunic was drenched and blotchy as it stuck to my skin; my black skirt wet with pitiless rain. My hair sunk and caught against my face and neck while my boots got soaked and my make-up was a mess.
My whole life is a mess, come to think of it.
Then half way down another block or so, a car came to my side and rolled down the window.
It was Remy, and he was in Scott's car with the cloth hood up.
"Get in!" he told me sternly, and I obeyed, seating myself while drenched to the skin against the leather. I put my hands on my face and frowned. The rest of the way was quiet until we were parked in the garage. Sitting there amidst the silence, I could hear Remy's breathing, the darkness separating us both. Then he spoke.
"Everything all right?"
The question was bold, almost as though it was meant. I felt tears rise to my eyes once more. The real nightmare was that I found myself crying silently in front of the guy - crying about everything: my life, John, Peter, the wedding, Kitty, Remy, even Lance. Crying because I couldn't answer; I couldn't say, no, everything's not all right because of you. You are the reason I love and yet you choose to ignore that justified fact.
Then I unlocked the door and bolted out, my tears mixing with the rain. Ran and stayed in the bathroom, cried some more, came out semi-dry and worn, changed and tried to sleep (which is hard when you're half dry and depressed). So I resort to you, and so on and so forth.
The same crap playing over and over again.
Kitty, I've found, hasn't moved from her bed, completely oblivious to everything.