Every night she lies in her bed feeling hands. Hands slapping over her mouth, sliding up her hips, fingers in her hair pulling, shaking so bad they tangle, knuckles in her ribs, in a clumsy caress against her cheek. She always curls into a cannonball half convinced that if she looks over Deborah will be snoring softly in the next bed ten years old and that when the door creaks open he won't be dead anymore.
She's tried so hard to keep away from everyone, tried to make sure no one could touch her like that again, ever. She's kept herself covered, kept her distance, kept her defenses up.
He'd gotten through anyway.
It's his hands she's feeling now, his fingers gently tugging her hair in a way that makes her close her eyes and tilt her face up to the empty air waiting for something she never knew she wanted. Her breath hitches as he touches her, as he uncurls her body, catching the fists before they hit, smoothing down her nightgown, holding her to him, not holding her down. She takes his hands in hers, guides them over the curves of her body, the scars on his palms making her gasp, making her shiver.
She wears his shirt and nothing else when she lies down to sleep, pretends it's his arms around her, his skin against her skin. She thinks about what he can do to her, what she wants him to do to her without once trying to stop herself. She plays it out in her mind until she's aching. She can't help it. She's at Fahrenheit all over again, staring through the smoke unable to turn away.
He'd only touched her for a second and two weeks later the power is gone, but not the memories. She still has scraps of them floating around in her head. She still feels like she knows the places he's been, still finds herself loving the things he's loved. She still feels his heart, feels what it felt when it broke and she knows what he did to mend it, what he still does, what he's always done to keep himself from feeling too alone… and it's haunting her, it's keeping her up at night.
She opens her eyes to the two am darkness, listens to her heavy breath. A smooth sheen of sweat covers her exposed skin and she feels shaken, foolish. Angry. She sits up, pulls off his shirt and throws it away before climbing back under the sheets.
She's absorbed a man who craves skin, contact. This hunger isn't hers.
She looks at the silk pooled on her floor and stops herself from reaching out a hand to take him back.
She closes her eyes tight, turns her face to the wall.
She needs him.
She needs him gone.
-/-
Remy's memory guides her back to the abandoned subway tunnel, back to his place. It's been three weeks since she's last been here.
She had hoped his memories, his…urges, would be out of her system by now, that's why she had been putting off bringing back his stuff. She hadn't wanted to face those eyes until she was sure that she was completely herself again and could handle looking into them without wanting to rip his clothes off and-
She hopes he's out.
She slips in between the gap in the doors and stops. His things are gone. A lone playing card sits on the seat where his radio had been. Queen of Hearts. She picks it up and reads the message scrawled across the back of it, "Don't worry chere…I'm right here…" At the bottom is an address for "Xavier's School". She's not sure whether she's annoyed that he knew she'd come back, or glad that he'd thought about her at all.
Chere…
He has a million cheres.
Annoyed.
She crunches the card up in her fist and drops it on the floor. She thinks about taking his stuff with her. She likes the gloves. They're too big for her and two of the fingers on each one have been cut off, but when she puts them on it feels like he's holding her ha-
She drops his belongings on the seat and leaves.
When she gets to the street she pulls a scrap of paper out of her pocket. Raven Darkholme's address in Deborah's slanted writing stares up at her. This is the only address she needs.
-/-
She steps into the elevator and pushes the button for the penthouse. The lobby of Ms Darkholme's building is fancier than any place she's ever been and it makes her wish she'd worn a dress or something. She remembers how smooth and sophisticated Ms Darkholme had looked when she had visited her all those months ago and looking at her own messy reflection in the mirrored doors she wonders why she had even noticed someone like her in the first place.
The elevator opens with a polite ding and she steps out into the hallway. There's only one door. She reaches for the bell and it opens before she can ring it.
A young man stands on the other side and he grins at her, his teeth bright against his tanned skin.
"Hi - You're the one who called earlier, right?"
"Yes, Ah need to speak to Ms Darkholme, please."
"She's in a meeting now, but I'll show you where you can wait."
She nods and follows him down another hallway, her shoes sinking into the plush burgundy carpet. An eclectic collection of paintings decorate the cream-colored walls and she stops when she sees a Picasso.
She squints at it through the protective glass.
"That's not… that's not real is it?" she asks and he shrugs continuing on around the corner.
"Prob'ly. Raven's loaded. We're gonna wait here." He leans against the wall and nods at a dark wood bench beside the matching double doors. She sits down and studies the piece behind him so she won't have to talk and her breath catches in her throat when she realizes what it is.
La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Waterhouse.
"You don't like it?" The guy pushes himself off the wall and plops down beside her on the bench. "She got it for you."
She blinks, looking away from the painting with a frown. "What?"
"It's for you."
"Why would she do that?"
"She always buys something for each of us. I got a sculpture."
"But Ah said no, Ah didn't go with her." He shrugs.
"She knew you'd come around."
"Ah don't even know what this place is…"
"We call it The Brotherhood."
The double doors open and a lanky blonde boy saunters out tossing a fireball up and down in his hands. He continues down the hall without looking at them and the young man nods at his back and says, "That's St. John - Pyro."
"Uh huh…"
"And I'm Dominic by the way. They call me Avalanche."
"Why's that?"
He grins again and claps his hands together. The floor rumbles beneath her, the paintings slapping against the walls. The bench cracks, splits, and she tumbles to the ground.
"Damn it, Petros!" Ms Darkholme steps out into the hall her eyes flashing, "If I've told you once-" She breaks off when she sees her on the floor. She glares at Dominic again. "Why didn't you tell me she arrived?"
"You were with Pyro-"
"It was just a progress report. This is more important." Ms Darkholme smiles down at her and holds out her hands. She takes them after a moment's hesitation and straightens her blouse when she gets to her feet, quickly letting go. "I think we'll leave Mr Petros here to clean up his mess."
"Myst-" She points at the ruined bench, silencing him with a look.
"You're buying me a replacement. 19th century. Italian. Get on it," she says firmly and leads her through the double doors into an office. Another painting hangs on the wall over the desk, one of Matisse's Blue Nudes. She stands there looking at it as Ms Darkholme shuts the door behind them with a soft click.
"Do you like it?" she asks motioning for her to sit at the chair in front of the desk. There are scorch marks on the cushions.
"Yes. Ah... Ah have a Matisse poster in mah room…" She murmurs, looking at the burns on the armrests, "Pasiphae."
Ms Darkholme nods, smiles again softly. "I love that one. Do you know her story?"
She shakes her head.
"King Minos insulted Poseidon, and in retaliation the sea-god made the king's wife - Pasiphae - fall in love with a bull. She was so consumed with passion that she begged Daedalus to build a wooden cow for her in which she could enclose herself so she'd be able to make love to the bull. She became the mother of the minotaur."
"Y'kiddin'…"
"That's how the story goes."
"That's… really gross."
"You're not going to be able to look at it the same way again are you?" She shakes her head and Ms Darkholme laughs. "Pasiphae was a woman who desired something she could not possibly have, and yet she found a way to get it. I find that... inspirational. It really is a beautiful piece, I'm sorry if I ruined it for you."
"Ms Darkholme-"
"Call me Raven." Raven sits down on the edge of the desk and motions to the chair again.
"Y'prob'ly wonderin' why Ah'm here…" she says taking it.
"Deborah gave you my address."
"Well, no, Ah found it in our room, but why… why did Deborah even have it? Ah didn' know she talked to ya when ya came to th' orphanage…"
"When she heard you didn't want to come here she caught me before I left and begged me to take her instead. I couldn't of course, but I gave her my address to give to you in case you changed your mind."
"Why? Ah mean why couldn' you take her?"
"I think you know."
She looks down at her hands, at her new black gloves. She looks back up at Raven who nods at them.
"Because she ain't a mutant. Like me."
"I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you in more detail about why I sought you out, but that woman insisted on staying there for the entire interview…"
"Foggerty always does that."
"The woman looked older than dirt. I was afraid the shock of finding out who you were would have killed her. If I had been able to talk to you alone I would have explained why I wanted you here."
"An why did ya?"
"I thought you could help us."
"With what exactly?"
"Gathering intel among other things. Your absorption power would be especially beneficial to us in that regard."
"How d'ya even know about that? How didja even know about me all the way down there in Mississippi?"
"I have a friend who told me about you. She's a mutant like you. Like me."
"What's your power?"
"I'm a metamorph. That means that I can shift the atoms and molecules of my body… in order to change my appearance…"
Raven's skin shimmers as she speaks, her dark hair melting into gold. Her eyes turn a familiar shade of blue.
Shadow to match them and fine, barely-there lines appear in their corners.
A smile with a slightly crooked bottom row of teeth.
A pale smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Down to the last detail is Julia Bennett's face.
She stares at her, her mouth hanging open.
"She beat me to you," Raven says with Julia's voice, Julia's glossy lips. "You had already been adopted the first time I came to see you. I wanted to get to you before it happened, before your power manifested itself, but I was too late…" Raven's features shift back into her own as she reaches out to her. Her fingers stop just shy of grazing her cheek and she realizes she's crying. She never cries. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help you…" Raven says, and she pulls away from her, wiping her cheeks on her sleeve, embarrassed.
"Do ya know what Ah did?"
"Tell me."
"Ah put the first boy who ever kissed me into a coma. He got lost in it and neve' foun' his way out. Ah took him inta mah'self… took ever'thin', his hopes, his fears, his dreams… Ah find myself watchin' the World Series ever' year an Ah get this pang right here-" she presses a hand against her heart, "an Ah know it's comin' from him. Ah don't care about baseball. He loved it. He wanted to grow up ta be a pitcher…" She shakes her head. "He ain't gonna grow up ta be nothin'. Ah took his future away from him. Ah killed him."
"That wasn't your fault-"
"Maybe not but th' other one was. Ah knew what Ah could do then, Ah figured it out. He came ta me an Ah held his hand down on mah knee an' Ah pulled with ever'thin' Ah had. When Ah felt the bad thing comin' Ah urged it on. Ah wanted him gone. But he's still here… Ah have problem's breathin' sometimes. Just a little shortness a' breath that comes an' goes…" She looks down at her hands, at her tears on the leather. "When he was touchin' us he hated himself for doin' it. Ah took that from him too - th' disgust as well as th' asthma… There was a boy at school Ah kinda liked but Ah think even if Ah had mah stupid mindsuckin' powers under control Ah still wouldn't a' been able to go through with anythin'. Ah woulda felt like Ah was doin' somethin' wrong, disgustin'… Ah haven' wanted to touch nobody because a' all that shame rollin' around inside me… Ah've been glad Ah can't…"
But now here's Remy still in mah head weeks later makin' me want…
"I'm so sorry you went through all of that by yourself, I should have come back before that last time, but Irene didn't know where you were… I can't tell you how shocked we were when we found out you had been brought back to the orphanage, that you had been there for so long…" Raven reaches out again, lightly runs her fingers through her hair and she doesn't turn away. She leans into it and she wants to cry again.
"Ah shoulda gone with you then…"
"I understand why you didn't. I was too late. It must have seemed strange, this woman blowing in out of nowhere, asking especially for a seventeen-year-old girl with…distinctive features." She tucks the streak of white hair behind her ear and she closes her eyes feeling weak and raw in the face of Raven's gentleness, her kindness. "It's alright, you're here now..."
"Ah haven't told ya why Ah am… it's Deborah. She disappeared weeks ago an Ah've tried ever'thin… Ah filed a report, Ah talked to… people. Ah jus' remembered yesterday that Ah'd found y'address with her things. But if y'say y'only gave it to her for me…" she shakes her head frustrated that once again her lead is leading nowhere at all. "Ah was hopin' y'd know somethin', but if y'haven' seen her since the orphanage…"
"You're worried about her."
"Ah'm scared fo' her… An don't ya give me that "this is New York and stuff like that happens so get used to it" crap cause Ah've heard it before an' it don't do nothin' but piss me off."
"You're right to be pissed off. You shouldn't have to "get used" to things like people disappearing, getting hurt, but unfortunately it does happen all the time. We're all targets. Especially people like you, like me."
"Ah ain't a target. Nobody can touch me."
Raven shakes her head.
"If they know what you are, what you can do, they'll find a way, believe me… We protect mutants here - myself and my partner Irene, St. John and Dominic… when they aren't destroying the furniture anyway... We use our powers to stop those who want to hurt us, who want us to live like second class citizens." Raven's eyes cast over, storm clouds brewing in their depths suddenly making her look dangerous and cold. "Measures are being taken even as we speak to control the "mutant problem". Those of us deemed too dangerous to live are hunted down like animals. Laws are being proposed that will require tracking devices to be embedded into a mutant's skin - even those who have no real power, but simply look different will be forced to undergo the procedure… And it's all being covered up, every murder, every proposal… Half the country doesn't even know what a "mutant" is. But they're going to. It may be their world now, but we're going to take it back." She looks deep into her eyes, her hand on her shoulder and says quietly. "You can't help Deborah, but you can help others, others like you. You can help us make sure that they don't disappear like your friend."
"But… what can ah possibly do?" she whispers overwhelmed by Raven's anger, her intensity, as well as everything else she has seen and heard since coming here.
"Did you see the Waterhouse out there in the hall?" Raven asks and she nods.
"Dominick told me y'got it… for me."
"I did. Another inspirational woman…"
"But she's a monster…"
Raven smiles softly, squeezing her shoulder. "She's a woman who has the power to get what she needs to survive. Use your beauty as she does, lure them near, make them want you to touch them and when you do take what you need from them to protect yourself… to protect us all."
She shakes her head feeling sick.
Gathering intel…
"Ah told ya, the people Ah touch… Ah kill them… an' they… they haunt me. They may fade to the background, but they're never really gone… There's a price f'what y'askin'… Ah don't wanna hurt nobody…"
Raven is quiet for a moment, still looking into her eyes.
"Would you consider staying here for a while? You don't have to help us if you're not willing but… I'd like to try and help you in any way I can. Maybe together we can find a way for you to control your powers. Maybe we'll discover a way for you to use them safely - for yourself as well as others…"
"Why do ya care so much…"
"I can't help it… I look at you and I feel… I feel like I was meant to protect you, shelter you, help you find your place in this world and not be ashamed, not be afraid. Will you let me try?"
She looks into Raven's earnest gray eyes and she wants to trust her, wants to believe her. She doesn't know what else to do.
Raven holds out her hand and for the second time this afternoon she takes it.