Rating: PG - adult "themes"
Summary: Bobby muses about John's leaving, Rogue helps him deal with it.
Spoilers: I assume you've seen X-Men 2? If not, turn back.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stan Lee, Marvel and their many, many well-paid lawyers. I am NOT making any money off this, nor am I trying to infringe on anyone's copyright. Believe that.
Authors' Notes: Allusions to Bobby/Rogue/John as a "relationship", if you get my meaning. Also, I dunno why the hell my fics keep double spacing when I post them here. But whatever. I hope you enjoy this one anyway!
Questions, Comments, Suggestions: Send to donnacsopranonetscape.net. All flames are read, laughed at then deleted with extreme prejudice.
"Like oil and water we don't mix/ But something keeps us tied together ..." - "Fire And Ice", Joan Armatrading
"Median" by Net Girl
Iceman. That was what he called himself. Ice. The word drummed up the impression on impenetrability, of a strength that most other elemental substances did not have. Stability. One knew when ice would disappear. It took time to break down, to transform into water and be gone forever. A person was able to prepare himself. Yes, ice was dependable in that respect, unlike other things. Such as fire.
He'd liked the name Pyro for John. Bobby often joked that "Psycho" would be a better fit. Funny thing was, John didn't protest the comment - much. When he would, it was a thing of legend. Once, when irritated by the teasing, John incinerated three trees near the basketball court. He probably would've done more damage had Rogue not stopped him. She had a way with him that Bobby couldn't figure out. Finally, he attributed it to the crush John had on his girlfriend. He was always kinder around her. Always.
That was John's personality, though, as unpredictable as the flames he controlled.. Bobby should've seen it coming long ago - John's leaving. The signs were there, he'd never paid them any mind. Acting out so spontaneously and, sometimes, violently, was John's way of dealing with the world around him.
Fire contained a certain type of power, a power more seductive than ice, John had told Bobby once. The element was unlike any other. Air breathed life into it, the flames consumed material to grow and, with the simplest of gestures, it could be destroyed. At the time, Bobby didn't understand that the "speech" was a metaphor for John himself. A monster was at John's command, one he enjoyed letting loose on people and property, and he enjoyed it entirely too much.
Professor Xavier was the force who wanted to control the boy who was master to that monster. The lecture at the museum was only one of many scoldings from Xavier, and a rather minor one compared to those previous. When John left him and Rogue at Alkalai Lake, Bobby knew why the other boy couldn't allow anyone to control him and, in turn, regulate the one thing he loved more than himself - his fire.
Bobby didn't need to hear the words, either. It was all there in John's eyes when he cast that final look back to him and Rogue. The look that clearly asked 'Is it worth staying?' Was it? To surrender to the administration of Professor Xavier? He liked to think so. Xavier had the best of intentions for his students. But then some days ...
Shifting his gaze away from the window in his room, Bobby noticed that, during his contemplation of John, his arms had developed a thick sheet of ice up to his elbows. Turning his hands palms down, he wasn't alarmed by it, merely intrigued. So he had more than the ability to create ice walls and pretty figurines within him? With the same ease as he executed those tasks, he forced the ice to retreat, leaving him with two, normal arms. He flexed his fingers.
"Bobby?"
He turned when he heard Rogue's voice. She stood just inside of his doorway, concern on her face as she regarded him. She'd seen his latest trick. He didn't have to ask her if she had. "Pretty neat, huh?" he asked as she came closer. "It just ... happened," he went on as she took a seat beside him on his bed. "I ... I don't know why."
One of the white locks of hair fell across her face as she looked down at his hands. Carefully, her gloves hands took hold of one of his. "What were you thinking about?" she asked, quietly. "It ... was about him, wasn't it?"
He nodded, shrugging a little. "Yeah."
"It's been months, he's never coming back," she told him as she lifted her head. She saw the expression on his face. "I miss him, too, Bobby."
"I know."
She weaved the fingers of one hand with those of Bobby's left hand. "We have to believe he's happier where he is." A pause. "Instead of with ... us."
He gripped the girl's hand tightly, looking away from her for a moment.
Then there was Rogue. The mediator between ice and fire; the one who understood both sides. She could because she'd tasted each of them with her touch. Her touch that drew into her the powers, personalities and memories - though temporary - of each boy, and it left her with an enlightenment most spent a lifetime trying to achieve. She'd left herself once, albeit for different reasons, but she'd gone. She had it within her to be like John. She had the stability, the dependability, of Bobby as well. A balance, yin and yang personified, stated with the dark-brown hair drastically contrasting against the stark white strips.
Slowly, Rogue removed one of her gloves while Bobby watched, curious. Once free of the fabric, she reached out to touch her cool fingers to the warm flesh of his cheek. In the brief moment of contact, he found comfort in it. Beyond the tingle that accompanied the effects of Rogue's power, it reminded him of better days. Somehow, it was like he was there again.
"Why'd you do that?" he asked as she let her bare hand drop into her lap.
"I'm a part of you both," she replied with a smile, a smile that reminded Bobby of John as well. "We're far too connected to ever be truly apart."
He understood. A lot of history was amassed between the three of them. Rogue brought the extremes together within herself and, in turn, she could give it back whenever she chose. Not quite the same as the real thing, but it was the closest they would come to it.
Unless John returned, and Bobby doubted that would happen. He loved only one thing more than the both of them. And it's hold on him was greater than theirs.
Summary: Bobby muses about John's leaving, Rogue helps him deal with it.
Spoilers: I assume you've seen X-Men 2? If not, turn back.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stan Lee, Marvel and their many, many well-paid lawyers. I am NOT making any money off this, nor am I trying to infringe on anyone's copyright. Believe that.
Authors' Notes: Allusions to Bobby/Rogue/John as a "relationship", if you get my meaning. Also, I dunno why the hell my fics keep double spacing when I post them here. But whatever. I hope you enjoy this one anyway!
Questions, Comments, Suggestions: Send to donnacsopranonetscape.net. All flames are read, laughed at then deleted with extreme prejudice.
"Like oil and water we don't mix/ But something keeps us tied together ..." - "Fire And Ice", Joan Armatrading
"Median" by Net Girl
Iceman. That was what he called himself. Ice. The word drummed up the impression on impenetrability, of a strength that most other elemental substances did not have. Stability. One knew when ice would disappear. It took time to break down, to transform into water and be gone forever. A person was able to prepare himself. Yes, ice was dependable in that respect, unlike other things. Such as fire.
He'd liked the name Pyro for John. Bobby often joked that "Psycho" would be a better fit. Funny thing was, John didn't protest the comment - much. When he would, it was a thing of legend. Once, when irritated by the teasing, John incinerated three trees near the basketball court. He probably would've done more damage had Rogue not stopped him. She had a way with him that Bobby couldn't figure out. Finally, he attributed it to the crush John had on his girlfriend. He was always kinder around her. Always.
That was John's personality, though, as unpredictable as the flames he controlled.. Bobby should've seen it coming long ago - John's leaving. The signs were there, he'd never paid them any mind. Acting out so spontaneously and, sometimes, violently, was John's way of dealing with the world around him.
Fire contained a certain type of power, a power more seductive than ice, John had told Bobby once. The element was unlike any other. Air breathed life into it, the flames consumed material to grow and, with the simplest of gestures, it could be destroyed. At the time, Bobby didn't understand that the "speech" was a metaphor for John himself. A monster was at John's command, one he enjoyed letting loose on people and property, and he enjoyed it entirely too much.
Professor Xavier was the force who wanted to control the boy who was master to that monster. The lecture at the museum was only one of many scoldings from Xavier, and a rather minor one compared to those previous. When John left him and Rogue at Alkalai Lake, Bobby knew why the other boy couldn't allow anyone to control him and, in turn, regulate the one thing he loved more than himself - his fire.
Bobby didn't need to hear the words, either. It was all there in John's eyes when he cast that final look back to him and Rogue. The look that clearly asked 'Is it worth staying?' Was it? To surrender to the administration of Professor Xavier? He liked to think so. Xavier had the best of intentions for his students. But then some days ...
Shifting his gaze away from the window in his room, Bobby noticed that, during his contemplation of John, his arms had developed a thick sheet of ice up to his elbows. Turning his hands palms down, he wasn't alarmed by it, merely intrigued. So he had more than the ability to create ice walls and pretty figurines within him? With the same ease as he executed those tasks, he forced the ice to retreat, leaving him with two, normal arms. He flexed his fingers.
"Bobby?"
He turned when he heard Rogue's voice. She stood just inside of his doorway, concern on her face as she regarded him. She'd seen his latest trick. He didn't have to ask her if she had. "Pretty neat, huh?" he asked as she came closer. "It just ... happened," he went on as she took a seat beside him on his bed. "I ... I don't know why."
One of the white locks of hair fell across her face as she looked down at his hands. Carefully, her gloves hands took hold of one of his. "What were you thinking about?" she asked, quietly. "It ... was about him, wasn't it?"
He nodded, shrugging a little. "Yeah."
"It's been months, he's never coming back," she told him as she lifted her head. She saw the expression on his face. "I miss him, too, Bobby."
"I know."
She weaved the fingers of one hand with those of Bobby's left hand. "We have to believe he's happier where he is." A pause. "Instead of with ... us."
He gripped the girl's hand tightly, looking away from her for a moment.
Then there was Rogue. The mediator between ice and fire; the one who understood both sides. She could because she'd tasted each of them with her touch. Her touch that drew into her the powers, personalities and memories - though temporary - of each boy, and it left her with an enlightenment most spent a lifetime trying to achieve. She'd left herself once, albeit for different reasons, but she'd gone. She had it within her to be like John. She had the stability, the dependability, of Bobby as well. A balance, yin and yang personified, stated with the dark-brown hair drastically contrasting against the stark white strips.
Slowly, Rogue removed one of her gloves while Bobby watched, curious. Once free of the fabric, she reached out to touch her cool fingers to the warm flesh of his cheek. In the brief moment of contact, he found comfort in it. Beyond the tingle that accompanied the effects of Rogue's power, it reminded him of better days. Somehow, it was like he was there again.
"Why'd you do that?" he asked as she let her bare hand drop into her lap.
"I'm a part of you both," she replied with a smile, a smile that reminded Bobby of John as well. "We're far too connected to ever be truly apart."
He understood. A lot of history was amassed between the three of them. Rogue brought the extremes together within herself and, in turn, she could give it back whenever she chose. Not quite the same as the real thing, but it was the closest they would come to it.
Unless John returned, and Bobby doubted that would happen. He loved only one thing more than the both of them. And it's hold on him was greater than theirs.