Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution. I don't own much, except alot of Godzilla movies. And imported soup.
Author's Notes: Randirogue is the epitome of godliness and badassness. 'Nuff said.
-----------------------------
Teetering
Chapter Two
It's late, and it's dark, the only light coming from the dim lamp behind me. I stand and lean on the railing of the balcony in my room and stare off into the darkness, calm and serene, losing in the swirling mass of my thoughts.
The silence.
For some, the silence is excruciating. They can't sit still and quiet for too long. A particular furry German comes to mind...
But I...I enjoy the silence. The calm, soothing silence, like watching a sunset over the ocean horizon, not like the eerie, gut-wrenching silence as you step down a dark alley, late at night, hoping someone won't jump out and stick a knife to your throat for your wallet.
But the quiet and silence means no ill-will is afoot (even if it may be soon thereafter). It's...well, soothing. There's just no other way to describe it.
I never did figure out what quite happened from those tremors. No more followed the first two, and I was just too tired to deal with any problem at that moment.
So I went to my room, sat out on the balcony, and just watched the world go by, waiting for the night, when I was most at peace, despite the things that went on in my mind.
The night.
I used to hate it when I was young, especially in the summers. I didn't want those fun-filled days to ever end. I miss that feeling, like I miss my parents, like I miss seeing color, and how I miss...my innocence.
It's not easy, having everything so important (whether you knew it at the time or not) and so dear to you taken away in the blink of an eye.
In the blink of an eye.
I hate that phrase so much.
Seems petty, doesn't it?
But I guess it's fair to say that I'm rather sensitive about anything pertaining to eyes and sight.
I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if none of this had happened - no head injury, no X-Gene, no accident...
Well, I'm lying. I don't wonder just some of the time about that. I wonder about it all the time.
I think about what might have been, what could have been.
When I'm feeling my worst, I usually think of it as 'what should have been.'
I think about what could have been instead. Alex wouldn't have that stupid surfer accent, I wouldn't need 'protection,' dad would still be in the Air Force...hell, I'd probably be ready to ship out for boot camp around this time.
And I think about what wouldn't have been, and I feel a little guilty.
I have a hard time deciding if the good outweighs the bad.
There would have been no Professor X, my second father, and the man responsible for my being alive and well.
I wouldn't have met my fellow mutants, teammates, friends; my new family.
And of course, I think of Rogue. Which is so odd, because up until a year ago, that name would have been 'Jean.'
I think I had a crush on Rogue since that night in Mississippi when we unsuccessfully tried to recruit her. I don't know when I accepted that my feelings for her were more than just "Wow, she's pretty...in a dark, Gothic way."
I like to think it was in New York City last Christmas when I fully realized just how much I cared for her, but didn't really accept it at the time. I mean, I was in love with Jean; beautiful, brilliant, always level-headed Jean. Not the alone, sad, lost Rogue.
I felt guilty about liking Rogue, especially after being abandoned in Mexico. I wouldn't have made it out alive without Jean. There's no denying it. And in some ways, it rekindled my feelings for her. And I finally took a step forward. Which explains the weird, pseudo-relationship I'm in with her. I suppose, technically, we're boyfriend and girlfriend, even if we don't act that way too often.
And that always makes me think of something else, which creeps me out. When I associate a beautiful girl to something so grim, it makes me shiver. Especially because both of them do it to me.
Death.
A girl shouldn't make me think of death, right? Much less a girl I claim to have romantic feelings toward? It isn't her fault. Hell, their fault. I guess I wasn't clear on which girl...I'm sometimes not even sure myself, but the both of them do it. And it still doesn't change the fact that I so often associate them with death.
I know it sounds sadistic and brutal, but if I ever come across Mystique again, I will show her no mercy whatsoever.
I know, one wouldn't think I would be capable of such an act, since I'm such a 'responsible young man,' with 'morals' and 'principles' and 'compassion.'
...Compassion be damned.
I'll show her the same compassion she showed me when she pushed me off the ledge to the icy waters below, when she incinerated the mansion with me and the others inside, when she left me blind and alone in the desert...
I showed her, and everyone else, that I was more than capable of showing my dark side. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
No one knows that I feel this way, surprising since I live in a house with two telepaths, a place where secrets are hard to keep.
Or if they know, they don't let on, for which I am grateful.
Either way, I put the mental shield that the Professor taught me to good use.
You wouldn't think it if you looked at me, that such a cavalcade of feelings, varying from one extreme to another were floating around in deepest recesses of my mind, or how how two very different girls can make me feel a single emotion, and it not be the most obvious one.
How I go from feeling sadness to confusion to fury is beyond me.
I take one last look out the balcony window and crawl into bed, click off my bedside lamp. The room plunges into the darkness and soon enough, I succumb to the sleep...
Author's Notes: Randirogue is the epitome of godliness and badassness. 'Nuff said.
-----------------------------
Teetering
Chapter Two
It's late, and it's dark, the only light coming from the dim lamp behind me. I stand and lean on the railing of the balcony in my room and stare off into the darkness, calm and serene, losing in the swirling mass of my thoughts.
The silence.
For some, the silence is excruciating. They can't sit still and quiet for too long. A particular furry German comes to mind...
But I...I enjoy the silence. The calm, soothing silence, like watching a sunset over the ocean horizon, not like the eerie, gut-wrenching silence as you step down a dark alley, late at night, hoping someone won't jump out and stick a knife to your throat for your wallet.
But the quiet and silence means no ill-will is afoot (even if it may be soon thereafter). It's...well, soothing. There's just no other way to describe it.
I never did figure out what quite happened from those tremors. No more followed the first two, and I was just too tired to deal with any problem at that moment.
So I went to my room, sat out on the balcony, and just watched the world go by, waiting for the night, when I was most at peace, despite the things that went on in my mind.
The night.
I used to hate it when I was young, especially in the summers. I didn't want those fun-filled days to ever end. I miss that feeling, like I miss my parents, like I miss seeing color, and how I miss...my innocence.
It's not easy, having everything so important (whether you knew it at the time or not) and so dear to you taken away in the blink of an eye.
In the blink of an eye.
I hate that phrase so much.
Seems petty, doesn't it?
But I guess it's fair to say that I'm rather sensitive about anything pertaining to eyes and sight.
I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if none of this had happened - no head injury, no X-Gene, no accident...
Well, I'm lying. I don't wonder just some of the time about that. I wonder about it all the time.
I think about what might have been, what could have been.
When I'm feeling my worst, I usually think of it as 'what should have been.'
I think about what could have been instead. Alex wouldn't have that stupid surfer accent, I wouldn't need 'protection,' dad would still be in the Air Force...hell, I'd probably be ready to ship out for boot camp around this time.
And I think about what wouldn't have been, and I feel a little guilty.
I have a hard time deciding if the good outweighs the bad.
There would have been no Professor X, my second father, and the man responsible for my being alive and well.
I wouldn't have met my fellow mutants, teammates, friends; my new family.
And of course, I think of Rogue. Which is so odd, because up until a year ago, that name would have been 'Jean.'
I think I had a crush on Rogue since that night in Mississippi when we unsuccessfully tried to recruit her. I don't know when I accepted that my feelings for her were more than just "Wow, she's pretty...in a dark, Gothic way."
I like to think it was in New York City last Christmas when I fully realized just how much I cared for her, but didn't really accept it at the time. I mean, I was in love with Jean; beautiful, brilliant, always level-headed Jean. Not the alone, sad, lost Rogue.
I felt guilty about liking Rogue, especially after being abandoned in Mexico. I wouldn't have made it out alive without Jean. There's no denying it. And in some ways, it rekindled my feelings for her. And I finally took a step forward. Which explains the weird, pseudo-relationship I'm in with her. I suppose, technically, we're boyfriend and girlfriend, even if we don't act that way too often.
And that always makes me think of something else, which creeps me out. When I associate a beautiful girl to something so grim, it makes me shiver. Especially because both of them do it to me.
Death.
A girl shouldn't make me think of death, right? Much less a girl I claim to have romantic feelings toward? It isn't her fault. Hell, their fault. I guess I wasn't clear on which girl...I'm sometimes not even sure myself, but the both of them do it. And it still doesn't change the fact that I so often associate them with death.
I know it sounds sadistic and brutal, but if I ever come across Mystique again, I will show her no mercy whatsoever.
I know, one wouldn't think I would be capable of such an act, since I'm such a 'responsible young man,' with 'morals' and 'principles' and 'compassion.'
...Compassion be damned.
I'll show her the same compassion she showed me when she pushed me off the ledge to the icy waters below, when she incinerated the mansion with me and the others inside, when she left me blind and alone in the desert...
I showed her, and everyone else, that I was more than capable of showing my dark side. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
No one knows that I feel this way, surprising since I live in a house with two telepaths, a place where secrets are hard to keep.
Or if they know, they don't let on, for which I am grateful.
Either way, I put the mental shield that the Professor taught me to good use.
You wouldn't think it if you looked at me, that such a cavalcade of feelings, varying from one extreme to another were floating around in deepest recesses of my mind, or how how two very different girls can make me feel a single emotion, and it not be the most obvious one.
How I go from feeling sadness to confusion to fury is beyond me.
I take one last look out the balcony window and crawl into bed, click off my bedside lamp. The room plunges into the darkness and soon enough, I succumb to the sleep...