Disclaimer: X-Men. Not mine. Making no money. Just torturing them for fun, much as Marvel does.
Note: I've played with contunity a bit and brought back at least one person Marvel killed off, (Right. Like Marvel's never done that before.) so I suppose this could be considered AU. This will be rated R for possible disturbing imagery, sexual content, and dark, depressing angst.
Takes place loosely after death of Moira McTaggert, before and during time X-Treme X-Men team leaves the mansion. This will be Kitty/Peter fic eventually.
Paper Flowers
Chapter 2 – Reaching the Bottom
He had not come to spy on her. Truly. She would never believe him, but he had only come down here to kill time. How could he have known she would be here?
Without a thought of checking to see if the room was in use this time of night, or morning, he had simply opened the door and walked inside. And there she was, and he had not been able to tear his eyes away from her.
It had been a very, very long time since he had seen her dance. He had forgotten how truly talented she was, her movements flowing gracefully into one another as she seemed to float across the floor. Long, slender legs moved with a fluid grace, arms gliding gently, naturally, from one position to another as she swayed, turned, piouretted in time to the driving beat of the music. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the floor, as if she were dancing on air.
Perhaps she was.
Once, it seemed so long ago, she had loved to dance, had done so often, to the very music of life itself. Her bright, bubbly, cheerful nature had captivated everyone around her. She had brimmed with live and love and joy. But time and circumstance had seemingly destroyed that part of her.
She had come to them a gawky, barely teenager, full of enthusiasm, hopes, and dreams.
He'd been there that first day, and for many days after, watching her grow and change.
The skinny, doe-eyed, bubbly girl had grown into a slender, lovely woman, with a cascade of thick chestnut hair and big golden eyes that held the mysteries of her soul. He had watched it happen, day by day, but had gotten so caught up in his own life, his own problems, that he had not really seen until it was too late.
They had been friends, once.
No. They had been more than that. Much more. But they had both been only children and, what she had offered him freely, wholeheartedly, he had thrown away without a second thought.
She had handed him her heart and he handed it back to her, broken into a million pieces, and gone on his merry way without a backward glance.
Being who she was, in time, she had forgiven him and they managed to salvage a friendship from the wreckage. Until he had succeeded in utterly destroying that as well. There is only so much any one person can forgive.
He had crossed that line with her carelessly, time and time again, believing in his stupidity, that she would always forgive him, always take him back. In his childish arrogance, he had seen her as someone he could always come back to, the one person who would always wait for him, no matter how much he hurt her, no matter how many times he rejected her.
There were no words for the kind of fool he had been.
Though he had loved her all along, he never told her. Not when it mattered, when it could have made a difference. Not until it had been much too late.
Kitty was no longer the happy, bubbly, eternally optimistic girl she once was. She probably never would be again. The life they led eventually leeched the joy of life from a person. It had happened to nearly everyone he knew, himself included. He had nearly let it destroy him, had allowed it to destroy everything he held dear in his life and he knew there was no way to get it all back.
He had been down the road she was about to travel, could read the signs. She was going down the same path he had taken, slowly but surely. It was eating her alive, from the inside out, the consequences of this life they lived.
It was in the way she sat silently over breakfast every morning, the way she rarely left the premises unless it was on a mission, and in the way she was steadily pushing everyone who had ever been close to her farther and farther away.
It was even in the way she was dancing right now. Not with the joy and sheer love of movement she once possessed, but with grim determination, as if the piece was a foe she must conquer at all costs.
These days, she rarely laughed, seldom smiled. It had been so long since he had seen her happy. Not since leaving Scotland.
No. Even before then.
He missed her innocent laughter, he gentle teasing, her endless exuberance and curiosity. They all did. But he did not know how to bring it back, to bring her back.
Peter Rasputin leaned quietly against the wall, just inside the Danger Room door, watching the love of his life try to purge her soul by dancing her demons away, and prayed to a god he wasn't even sure he believed in for guidance, for a way to detour her from her own self-destruction.
She was in trouble, he knew that. What he did not know was how to help her. Or even if she would let him. But he wanted to try. He did not want to see her descend into her own private hell, did not want to see her slowly drown in the pit of her own despair and regret, as he himself had done.
Yes, he had heard the news that had come today, they all had, and had known the effect it would have on her. One more funeral, one more loss, in what seemed an endless stream. One more life cut short in pursuit of what was, more and more, becoming a lost cause.
How much more could any of them take? How many more could they afford to lose before it was enough? Who would be the next to lay down their life, their soul, for The Dream? Each year, the list grew, getting longer and longer, with no discernible benefits to balance it all out.
Had not each and every one of them given enough already? There was not one of them left who had not been touched by tragedy. Should they have to sacrifice everything, their lives, their families, every hope and dream they ever had, for this one cause, for this one man's dream?
Was it not time to step back, look at the situation, at the cost of what they were doing, and perhaps re-evaluate the sanity of continuing as they were?
Perhaps, it was time for one Dream to end so that others could begin.
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A/N: Yes, I realize the first chapters are rather short. The next one probably will be, too, but they will get longer as everything unfolds and we get inside everyone's head. If the spacing is weird, I apologize. My word processing program and ff.net are not seeing eye to eye. Please review. It motivates my life.