AN: Another cannon rewrite, coming late in the chapter. The twins weren't always so nice to each other. They did this sort of thing fairly often, in 616. A bit of this chapter might seem familiar to those of you who followed AF back in the day. An old fight. So no, I'm not claiming I invented the argument, I just put an Evolution spin on it. Just a heads up. Should you need an issue reference, just email me and ask for it.
My soundtrack, in order (go, download! You know you want to follow along!):
Oasis—Supersonic (God forbid I should use music and not them, right?), Chemical Brothers—Setting Sun, Prodigy—Breathe, Roots Manuva—Witness the Fitness (dedicated to The M!) The Hives—Main Offender, and Kidney Thieves—Zerospace. A large chunk of my bouncy, if sometimes dirty, writing playlist at the moment.
Chapter Seven: The Aurora (Jeanne-Marie)
Jeanne-Marie Beaubier had never had… so much.
So much food to eat. Her metabolism raced so that the Soeurs often suspected her of throwing up her food when she ate and ate and ate and still remained thin. To the point where they sometimes assigned her a day's fast, hoping that would teach her to appreciate what The Lord had given her.
So much affection. Friends who were supportive, unafraid, who were like her. Willing to hug, to touch, to kiss. No one ever touched her, at the school, especially not after they found out about her. They said she was a blasphemer, then, once they saw the light for themselves, or that she was a demon, sent to test them. And they locked her in a dark room, again, without food. Gave her the rosary and told her to say her prayers, and hope that God would take pity on her wicked soul.
So much fun. Flying around as she liked, not running away from something, not in that horrible dark haze that sometimes fell over her mind, clouding it from rational thought. She felt it sometimes, when she felt too happy. That thing coming back to her, making her wild. It scared her. Waking up in Montreal, not knowing what she'd done for sure, memories slowly coming back to her of all her wickedness… but it had been so fun to let go, since she'd been here.
So much… love. Friends. Teachers. A family.
Jean-Paul, her own brother. The part of her that had been missing all those nights in the dark, hungry and scared and knowing she was already in hell for what God had done to her. She always felt as if something was wrong. Some huge, impossible gap in her. She would never eat enough, never fly enough, never steal or dance or kiss enough to fill it, and she knew it.
And then she saw him, touched him, and she knew everything would be alright. For the first time.
And he was a good brother. Spent so much time with her, talked with her. She told him everything, watched his face darken before he gathered her into his arms, promised that nothing like that would ever happen to her again.
Part of her appreciated it, and hoped he would be there to protect her.
And another part of her knew that she didn't need protected. Not anymore. She felt it, when that thing inside of her, that otherness, woke up. In the Danger Room, she felt it.
But still, she loved him for it.
She loved him for his story, as well. Of what a horrible child he'd been, after his second family had died. Of how no foster home would keep him for long, and he finally took matters into his own hands. How he'd impressed a ski instructor, who'd funded his education and training from then on, expecting nothing in return. How he'd learned to use his powers on the slopes, controlling the speed at which he skied. He didn't cheat, he said, in competition. And she believed him. She knew her brother would not lie to her.
Maybe he was too protective. Maybe he told her she flirted too much, was too free with herself around the boys, at times.
But he meant well. He always meant well.
Sometimes, she was still scared. She felt like a child again when it happened. Like it would all disappear. Like she was being punished again, shown a life she could never really have, didn't deserve. She was wicked.
But if she was… so were all the X-Men.
And her friends—Kitty, Bobby, Kurt, Jean, her brother… they were not wicked. They loved her.
"So I fell right through the ceiling!" Kitty was telling her, sitting on her bed, now that she had her own, waving her arms around animatedly. "My parents were totally freaked and wouldn't even talk about it. It really hurt, you know? I thought I was such a freak, or something. And at school the next day, I kinda… well I got stuck in a locker, let's say, and when I phased out, I bumped into Lance," she rolled her eyes expressively at the mention of his name.
Jeanne-Marie giggled at her, "I thought you like him now!"
Kitty shifted, and wrinkled up her nose. "Oh… I do. He's cute, ya know? And really, he has a good heart. No one bothers to talk to him, they just assume he's this punk. There's a good heart under there."
"I tried to say the same to you about my brother," the darker girl reminded her. "He seems grouchy, but he is really a nice boy."
Again, Kitty wrinkled up her nose. "He's just a little scary. I mean… famous and cute and all that."
Jeanne-Marie nodded, "I can understand. If he was not my brother, maybe I would feel the same."
"He gets along with Rogue fine," Her friend rolled her eyes.
"Maybe they are friends because they are both grouchy?"
They laughed about this for a minute, and when they finished, Kitty asked her, "So seriously, how did you figure out that you had powers?"
Jeanne-Marie's heart jumped into her throat. And she fell quiet. And she felt a very old, familiar darkness pulling at her.
The other girl's brow furrowed, and she reached out to take her hand, reassuringly. "I'm sorry, JM, if it's hard for you—,"
Kitty's touch brought her back to herself, from that darkness. And she shook her head. "No, it's alright. You are my friend," she took a pause here, to order her suddenly scattered, disordered thoughts. She wasn't sure if she wanted to curl up in a ball, or fly out the window and never look back. Sometimes, this happened to her… "I was on the roof. I had been beaten, for talking back to the Soeur…"
Kitty's other hand suddenly went to her throat, and she gasped slightly, "Oh, god!"
But she couldn't stop now, or she'd never make it through the story. "And… I was going to jump." She closed her eyes now, felt the cold wind on her face again, the feeling of gravity pulling at her insides insistently. Calling her. Unstable roof tiles, under her feet. Shifting, sliding. Breath pooling before her, clouds of condensation. "I stepped off, hoping that the fall would… kill me." She opened her eyes to see Kitty's expression of terror, and felt the girl clutch at her hand. Again, reassuring. "But… instead… I flew."
Without further need for explanation, her friend threw herself onto her bodily and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, holding her close. "Oh god, Jeanne-Marie, I… we never knew it was that bad."
Her heart was still in her throat, but as she relaxed into Kitty's friendly, warm hug, she found that she no longer needed to curl up into a ball, to sink into blackness. Or to fly away, to lose herself in the lights and sounds and smells of the city, to forget it all. "It's ok now, Kitty. I have my friends, here. And I have my brother. I am safe."
Kitty rubbed her back, gently, like a mother would, "Yes, you are. You're with the X-Men now. And Jean-Paul is one hell of a force to be reckoned with."
She gave a little laugh, though she knew it sounded sad. "Yes. He is, very much. And so are you."
Kitty had asked her what she liked to do, what made her happy. And only two answers came to mind.
"I like to fly… and I like to dance."
So, they were dancing.
I need to be myself
I can't be no one else
I'm feeling supersonic
Give me gin and tonic
You can have it all but how much do you want it?
Ah, she knew this feeling. The feeling of loud guitars coursing through her veins, like electric, like the light she could create.
She smiled at the girl next to her, dancing happily, twirling and mouthing the words like she was asking Jeanne-Marie the question.
Jeanne-Marie wanted it.
She jumped up and down, totally free. Electricity instead of blood, coursing through her. Feeling the bass of it. Forgetting who she was in it. She was the words. She was the shifting of the tones and the thumping of the speakers.
Kitty took her hand and laughed, spinning under her arm, and she laughed back. Kitty's laptop was hooked up to Alex's speakers. Thumping away with a sort of recklessness she'd never really known, but always wanted.
You're the devil in me, I brought in from the cold
You said your body was young but your mind was very old
Your comin' on strong and I like the way
The visions we had are fading away
You're part of the life I never had-- I'll tell you now it's just too bad
Alex had joined them, along with Bobby and Ray, jumping up and down now. The guitars were gone and only the slide of electronic bass remained. She saw Amara dancing in, closing the door behind her. Kitty's computer flashed, the only light in the room.
She felt the sweat creeping, as she took her friend by the hand again, shaking her head, the nape of her neck wet with it. They laughed at each other. Feet planted wide apart, darkness, flashing of white. She spun and laughed aloud, watching the boys jump up and down recklessly. She moved over and took Bobby's hand in her own, watched him grin at her, grin up at the ceiling, try to move in rhythm when his body told him to do otherwise. He bounced happily, face split in half with a smile, clutching her hand and laughing with her.
Joyful. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the music, but the lights flashing and the music pounding and the people grinning.
Breathe
the pressure
Come play my game I'll
test ya
Psychosomatic addict
insane
Come play my game
Inhale inhale you're the
victim
A sound like a whip crack, and she snapped her body around with it. Twisting in time to it, letting it move her, knowing she couldn't move it. Time did not exist in this world.
Kurt had stumbled in, looking for Kitty, followed by Berto. She laughed at the fuzzy elf, stood in front of him and shook her hair out, turned around and put her arms around his neck, watching his eyes glow, watching his laughter.
She spun away and into Sam, who seemed utterly lost. Put an arm around his waist and her hip against his, showing him how to move. His eyebrows shot up, his expression turned ridiculous, and he let her move him, so uncertain she wanted to kiss him.
But she didn't. She let go and twirled around once, finding Kitty again and locking hands with her, laughing aloud once more with her friend. The room was filling up now, bodies bouncing in time, or off time, no one really caring who was watching, who was thinking, who would hear or understand.
It was drunken. It was dizzy.
Witness the fitness
The Cruffiton liveth
One hope, one quest
Thumping, pounding, like humanity had never evolved. No such thing as natural selection or mutation. Just this, the sound of their veins thudding, their blood rushing, their minds forgotten.
A slowly glowing light, from the door. Rogue stepped into her room, eyebrows high, and Jeanne-Marie ran to her, pulled her inside. Her brother followed after, scowling.
She took him by the hand and laughed at his expression. Maybe he didn't understand right now, but he would learn fast. She closed the door behind him and pulled him into the melee, twirling under his arm and letting go. She took Rogue by the hand now, gyrating wildly, feeling the warmth it pushed through her limbs, out from her very center, the very origin of her every movement, of her life, of her breath. She kissed the gloved hand in her own and giggled as the girl spun with her now, laughing. No rhythm of her own, borrowing it from the music, from Jeanne-Marie, from Jean-Paul and Bobby and Amara and Kitty and Kurt and Berto and Sam…
Maybe not so much from Sam…
I'm stuck in ways of sadistic joy and my talent only
goes as far as to annoy.
I'm on my way. This is my main offender.
This is what I've got and it got me saying - Why me?
She jumped up now, wrapped her legs around Ray's waist at the singer's squeal. He caught her around the waist, holding her close and laughing. The guitars had returned, slamming out the chords in a rebellious sort of rhythm. He spun her around, arms around her waist, and swung her down when she let go with her legs. She put her hands on his shoulders and didn't even have to tell him what to do. He picked her up, holding her by the waist, and her legs swung to the right, then to the left of him, then she landed on her feet again, laughing at the impossibility of it.
Without even thinking, she spun away from him this time, her hair flying all around her, into her brother. She shook her hips and turned to face him, pointing at him like a child she was reprimanding.
He tried to look at her sternly and failed, a rare and real smile splitting his face.
She took his hands again and shook herself, as if he should do the same. He started to move, just a bit, and she could tell he was a good dancer already. He was laughing now, a coveted sound she could barely hear over the din of the guitars, the pounding of the drums.
Kitty was behind her, wrapped an arm around her and she spun into her friend, laughing joyfully, blue eyes flashing in the light show from the computer.
Space in your face I'm gonna drink
the fucking ocean cause I ain't from a coast I'm just coastin
Said I was an afterthought you'd bring along,
well who you after now, bitch? Run,
mother fucka, run
Scott and Jean looked utterly confused. Scott was trying to ask her something, but she didn't care. She pulled him into the thick of things and pushed against him, holding Jean by the other hand. Shook her head carelessly, rolled her hips against his. The heat in her middle rose with the grind of the guitars, the spit of the electronics, the dripping sarcasm of the singer.
She wasn't Jeanne-Marie anymore. She wasn't afraid.
She was Aurora. Light and blood and alive. Flashing and violent and pure and hot. She didn't need to be protected. She didn't need to be coddled or held or taken care of. Just like in the clubs in Montreal. Just like in the Danger Room.
Only this time, it was all for her.
Industrial pounding behind her ears, in her chest, shaking her down to her core, questioning her existence, stripping her of anything but what it gave her.
All around her, the others bounced. She didn't even see them anymore, just felt the heat of them. Against her, next to her, laughing and jumping and dancing and smiling smiles of pure unadulterated freedom. She wrapped her arms around the one who held still, blonde and self-conscious.
Sam. She put her lips to his ear and laughed, made his hips move with hers, in time to the urgent thudding of the music. It slowed and she did too, nothing existing for her but the heat in her middle and the feeling of him against her, still cold, but warming slowly as she showed him how to move.
Loud again, guitars slamming, bass tripping over her, through her, into her, voices yelling, singing. Knees bent, lips parted, panting and smiling at him as he stared wide-eyed.
No words to this song. Just a swirling of sound, like someone had mixed up what was left of an explosion and put it over a thudding bass memory. Her hands in the air, her body twisting like it wasn't even her controlling it. Sweat through her shirt, in her jeans, running down her face. And she didn't care at all.
Jean-Paul in the corner, dancing with Rogue like he'd done this a time or two before, the two of them laughing and pushing against each other like they knew how to get what they wanted. Bobby and Kitty and Kurt and Ray jumping up and down like children, bouncing off of each other, landing with huge grins on their faces. Amara had a hold of Sam and was continuing the lesson she'd begun. Berto was behind her, spinning and jumping like he'd had lessons already, perfectly in time with the pulse of the electronic music flooding from Alex's speakers. Alex stared into the computer screen, his face lit up and grinning as he chose what the next song would be, leg twitching in time to the music. Jean had her arms around Scott's neck, trying desperately to make him move as he laughed at her, refusing to acquiesce to the demands of the music.
The door opened again, as the music waned.
"What the hell is this noise—,"
Jeanne-Marie ran to him, grabbing him by the forearms and pulling him inside.
Mr. Logan, for his part, just shook his head at her. And smiled.
The next morning, nearly everyone was in a good mood.
She particularly enjoyed sitting next to Sam Guthrie at breakfast, in fact. He couldn't even look her in the eye. It made her want to laugh, made her think of the absolute freedom of the flashing lights and the pounding music. Made her think of the press of bodies and the smell of sweat and the absolute nothingness. The surrender to that thing inside of her that allowed her such freedom.
And this time, she'd remembered everything. Not a moment forgotten. Not a moment of shame or fear or panic. It had just felt… good.
Jean-Paul shot her a sidelong glance as she moved into the conference room, where all of the X-Men were expected to be after breakfast this morning. To talk about their new exercises, they'd been told. Something about taking it into the field. She sidled up to him and smiled beguilingly, wrapping his arm up in hers. "Good morning, brother," she said, in English.
"Sister," he spared her a half smile, and continued looking straight ahead.
"You're upset."
It wasn't a question. She could feel it, really. She wasn't sure how it happened, it was an entirely new thing for her. But when Jean-Paul was angry, happy, anything but empty, she could tell, if he was near enough. And it wasn't his face. He rarely showed anything on his face.
"No."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not a liar."
"I didn't call you a liar, my brother. I said you were lying right now."
No reply from Jean-Paul. He just kept walking with her.
"Why are you angry?"
She'd pinpointed it now. The kind of upset coming off of him. They'd only been together a little over two weeks, but it wasn't difficult to tell. Not for her.
"I'm… concerned."
"Everyone else is happy."
"Everyone else had you hanging all over them last night."
She dropped his arm instantly.
He stopped walking.
She stood in front of him now, eye to eye, fearless. Face flushing with blood, anger of her own. One night. One night of happiness. And he had to start this again. Just when she was so happy.
He'd done it before, of course. But only in what Kitty had termed a "hopelessly passive aggressive" way. Hinting around that she'd flirted with Bobby too much. Kissed Roberto on the cheek one too many times.
Something inside of her flashed. The Aurora.
"Is that jealousy?" She knew it wasn't, but she said it anyway, because she wanted to make him angry. To make him feel what she was feeling.
He wrinkled his nose at her, and made a definite attempt to stay calm. Had she been anyone else, she knew, she would not have seen it. Would have fallen for it completely.
But it didn't matter, to her. She felt it under the surface. Boiling in him like it was boiling in her.
"You are my sister. How can you even say such a thing? That's not what I mean, and you know it."
She had seen it, of course. When her brother had kissed Pietro Maximoff. She knew. Did he think she needed to be told such things?
"You're mad."
"Angry, yes. Insane, no."
::Let it be.::
His switch to joual now was pointed. He did not want to discuss it where others would hear.
She, for her part, didn't care. She held her ground, before him in the hallway. So he could not get around her. ::Why do you deny me my one happiness? I saw you dancing, saw you with Rogue.::
::Rogue is a friend.:: He sniffed it, like Jeanne-Marie was beneath him somehow.
He had this in him. This creature who thought he was above the rules, above the rest of them. Two weeks, two days, it didn't matter. She knew it. She knew him.
And he knew her too well to imply such things about her intentions. ::They are my friends. All of them. They understand.::
::You think those boys aren't dreaming of you?::
::And who are you dreaming of, Jean-Paul?::
He sped up, she felt it. Watched what she knew others would see as a blur of his form, watched him use it to get around her.
Watched him continue down the hall without her.
::And who is Rogue dreaming of?:: She fired at him, desperately. Anything to make him stop, turn, wait for her.
He just kept walking.
She chewed her lip the entire meeting, barely hearing any of it. She had no idea, in fact, what they were all talking about. She spent the entire time chewing her lip, and avoiding her brother, who sat just next to her, as usual.
Not that he was looking at her.
Infuriated. She was a grown woman, almost. Seventeen years old. Did she need a guardian to tell her who she could kiss and when? Who to dance with, to touch, to smile at?
Did he? Did she say a word when he'd done what he did?
No. She'd only laughed.
Why couldn't he be happy for her? Why didn't he understand?
She could not remember being so angry before. It was an unfamiliar emotion, really. Fear, distress, hopelessness. She knew all of those well. But never really anger.
Only on those flashing nights she could remember in pieces. Only on the nights in the city, when she flew away from Madame's and into the night. But even then, she was so rarely angry.
Why would he do this to her? Make her feel this way? Didn't he love her?
She glared at him sideways, while Scott was talking.
He stared at the older boy, as if what he was saying were immensely important.
She knew it was an act. They'd made fun of Scott in joual so many times since he'd come here, laughing over his efforts as fearless leader. They liked him, but he was so uptight. It made them laugh.
Them.
Why wouldn't he look at her? He was her family!
"Aurora designed these new costumes," Jean was saying, and it caught her attention when her code name was mentioned, "For herself and Northstar. We were wondering if anyone else would want to change their costumes as well. It's been a year, and I'm happy with mine, but if you ask now, you might even be able to convince her to help you with them."
She returned Jean's smile, attempting to look happy.
"They look great," Scott was saying, "I'm almost tempted."
A snort escaped her brother now, the first noise he'd made in the past hour. Quiet enough that only she would hear it.
But she glared at him, and spoke so that they would all hear. "Did you have something to say about it?"
"I can't imagine what that would look like, is all," he made a face that clearly said it didn't matter much to him, either way. Shrugged, nonchalantly. His voice was quiet. Across the table, they probably wouldn't even be able to understand him. His words were for her alone. "More spandex, perhaps? Or maybe less?"
Red flashed behind her eyes, and when she could see again, he was staring right back at her. Glaring with pale blue eyes the mirror of her own. Narrowed.
"I never expected to hear you complain about handsome men in less clothing, Jean-Paul."
There was an audible gasp as they sucked in a collective breath at her words. The entire table, all of the X-Men, Professor Xavier included. They'd all heard, and understood.
She felt it from him. The rush of anger, of betrayal. And then, suddenly, nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"Aurora, Northstar, that's enough," The Professor said, finally, in that horribly smooth, even tone he had. The only one he had.
Jean-Paul turned now, face completely composed, to look at Scott. "Are we done?"
"Don't think I didn't see it, brother," She hissed at him. Why wouldn't he look at her? "When you kissed him."
Scott was looking between them now, mouth agape. "Ah… um… well…"
In fact, they all were.
And Jean-Paul was still cold to her. She felt… nothing. He stared at Scott expectantly, jaw clenched.
Her vision blurred. "Jean-Paul, look at me!"
"Are we done?" Jean-Paul insisted, as if he hadn't heard her.
"Yes," Jean finally said.
He stood, and stalked out of the room. Fast. But not Northstar fast. As if he wasn't running away from anything at all.
She felt Kitty's hand on her arm suddenly. And then everyone else, looking at her.
Unlike her brother, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier disappeared from the room faster than any of them could have seen. And proceeded to lock herself in her room for the rest of the day. Completely forgetting who Aurora was altogether.