She follows me down to the sound of
the sea
slips to the sand and stares up at me
"is this how it happens? Is this how it feels?
Is this how a star falls?
Is this how a star falls?"
The night turns as I try to explain
irresistible attraction and orbital plane
"Or maybe it's more like a moth to a flame?"
She brushes my face with her smile
"Forget about stars for a while... "
as she melts...
Meanwhile millions of miles away in space
the incoming comet brushes Jupiter's face
and disappears away with barely a trace...
~Jupiter Crash, The Cure
CHAPTER 6: REVISIONS AND DIVISIONS, PT. 1
The Blackbird landed, and the X-Men disembarked in a flurry of activity.
Bobby carried Lorna with difficulty, but refused to share his burden. Logan exited just behind him, Jean
draped in his arms in a mirror image of his teammates'.
Magnus alone of those who had suffered injury strutted from the jet of his own
free will. "Get them to the med-lab," he instructed both of them. "Theresa, go
with them and help with the equipment," he added, and she nodded once, pausing
long enough to give him a smile that said how glad she was that he was well. He
gave her a faint smile in return, then turned to the
others.
"I believe the rest of us should leave the others to their work. I fear, in all
the excitement, we have missed lunch and
dinner."
Rogue frowned. "But the others…"
"Are exhausted, but uninjured, according to the readings we took in the
Blackbird. They will be fine, Rogue."
"And you?" she asked, a smile playing about her lips.
"I feel as if I have not eaten in years."
Rogue nearly shivered as she realized how true that was.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jean-Luc and Irinee' laid in their beds, throats
tight, minds troubled but still connected by the thin tether of thought that
never quite left them.
We should have said something.
Irinee' shifted guiltily in her bed, rolling over
onto her stomach. I know. But how do we
explain it? And everyone's so happy…
I know, her brother relented after a
moment.
And I'm so tired…
She could feel her brother's hesitation. She knew everyone else thought he was
an arrogant jerk, an upstart with no respect for his elders, but she knew him
intimately, knew his every thought and emotion, and she knew he was never as
unaffected as he seemed.
Me too, he said at last. Been a long day. And… I've been
thinking… and maybe we did imagine it. It's not like we get to use our powers
at maximum every day. I just heard it, and I wished…
I know, she said, pulling him close in a mental hug. I wish, too.
Her brother sighed, and she could almost feel the covers wrap around his
body as he turned on his side and gave way at last to sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"How do you feel?" Rogue asked as she walked at Magnus' side, feeling
full and comfortable. The children were tucked into bed safely, and though they
had seemed somewhat troubled, she suspected it had more to do with their part
in Magnus' transference and the drain on their powers than any sort of mental
distress. She would discuss it with them tomorrow, after they'd all had some
rest.
"I feel…" he flexed his hands, and looked down at them in wonder. "Perfect. Tired, but fit."
They reached his door, and Rogue nodded. "You should get some rest. Been a long day for us all."
Magnus nodded, then waved his hand in front of the
sensor next to the door. The door slid open obediently, and he paused in the
threshold.
"Rogue." He turned his head to look at her, and she
was caught in the arresting allure of gray-blue eyes. "I still do not
understand everything that has happened, but I thank you. If not for you, I
would have--"
She pressed gloved fingertips against his lips. "Don't you dare thank me. All Ah had to do was think of
what life would be like without you and…" she shook her head, at a loss, and
raised her eyes to him. "Ah'm glad there was another
choice."
He nodded slowly, eyes still locked on hers, reached
up and took her gloved hand in his. "I am not that tired. If you would like to
come and talk, I would be honored."
She hesitated, thought a moment, the slowly shook her head. "Another
night."
He nodded, understanding. "You still… it is not right, yet, is yet?"
She gave him that pained, fragile smile, and he felt his heart contract. "Ah
told you the truth when Ah said Ah couldn't let him go."
"Rogue. I do not expect you to let him go."
"Ah know," she nodded, that smile threatening to break. "Ah told you the truth
when Ah said that… and then you died." Her eyes swelled with tears, and he
resisted the urge to reach out and wipe them away. "And then Ah knew Ah was
wrong. Ah knew Ah'd only been holdin'
on to a dream, and what Ah wanted… what Ah needed… was right in front of me."
Magnus did a double take, shook his head in shock. "Then you…"
"It's been almost seven years, Magnus," she said, her voice a bare whisper.
"He's not coming back. And Ah've denied this longer
than Ah would have thought possible."
"But you will not stay?"
Her smile trembled, and she shook her head. "Not tonight. But soon," she said.
She held his eyes with misty promise, and leaned up, kissing him so near to his
mouth that it was all he could do to keep from catching her up in his arms.
"We have time now," she said, drawing away, tears still shining bright in her
eyes. "Baby steps, Magnus. Ah need… time."
"Whatever you wish, Sabine," he said with reverence, drawing her gloved hand to
his lips and kissing her knuckles gently. "I will be here. I will always be
here," he said, eyes burning into hers with the simple honesty of his words.
"Ah know," she said, and her smile shivered. Then she pulled her hand from his
and drew a deep breath. "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the mornin'."
He nodded once, nothing else left for him to do, and
stepped backward into his room.
"Goodnight."
"Sleep well," she said.
And with one last glimpse of that fragile smile, the doors slid shut between
them.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Rogue moved through the hallway like one in a dream, her fingers trailing along
the metal contours of the wall.
"It's been almost seven years, Magnus,"
she said, her voice a bare whisper. "He's not coming back. And Ah've denied this longer than Ah would have thought
possible."
It was true, she knew, and yet, she could not let go of his ghost, could not
let go of the love and doubt that clouded her heart. He had been her love for
nearly a decade, her husband for the better part of that, and despite whatever
other feelings might have lurked in her heart, she had never doubted that she
was bound, heart and soul, to the Cajun with red-black eyes and a silver tongue
that had won her heart despite its slyness.
She still missed him. Sometimes, it was like the beat of her heart was missing,
as if every hope, every dream had departed with his leaving. He had been
everything; the missing part of herself that had filled in all the gaps in her
soul. She had known then that she would never find another who would fill her,
complete her as he did, and she had accepted it with the stoicism of one who
understands their fate. She had loved him, had given him every piece of
herself, no matter how tiny and insignificant; everything she'd known how to
give, and she'd never regretted an instant of what they'd shared.
She only regretted that he was not here now to share life with her.
Almost seven years in mourning, spent in a haze of regret and remembrance,
tinged with the guilt of loving another. And yet… had he not meant for her to
love Magnus? In his dying words, he had told her that it was up to Magnus now
to protect her and the children, to help them. Remy had always despised Magnus
on some level for the love Rogue held in her heart for him, but he had not been
a stupid man. His final words had been meant to play on that love, even if only
for the safety of their family. But Rogue knew, in her heart, that it went much
deeper than that. Remy had known that Magnus would love her, and that he would
care for her as his wife, care for her children as his own. And so Magnus had… and
Remy must have known how that would end, especially given her soft spot for
Magnus.
Would he have wanted this?
The question tore at her heart, ripping it to shreds. She could only guess what
Remy would have wanted; despite how well she knew him and what she thought she
knew. But that voice at the back of her mind, the one she so seldom listened to,
clamored at her, begged her to understand the love that was given in her
husband's final words.
He would have wanted her to go on. In that, Magnus was more right than she
would ever admit. He would have wanted her to love again, to find someone who
would love their children as his own. For many, such a gift would have been
impossible, and yet, she had someone in her life who loved her and her children
beyond nearly anything, who had been her pillar of support and hope in all her
times of need. And Remy would have approved, she knew,
had she been able to ask him.
So why couldn't she let him go and move on?
Because he had been it.
The one. The
only one to whom she had given the totality of her heart. The
only one that understood her as she understood herself. No one else
could ever give her that… not even Magnus. No one could replace Remy. And that
was the point. No replacement, no, but there was more life beyond him, and he
had as much as told her that she should not live it alone.
She leaned her head against the door of her room, her heart torn in more
directions than she could understand. And suddenly she saw the room beyond, its large, queen sized bed empty and bereft of love, empty
of everything she had mourned for the last six and a half years. Cold sheets
wrapped around her singular form in a chokehold of memory. She could go in
there, and she could continue her life exactly as she had since Remy's death;
sleeping alone and grieving… or she could change her mind. Embrace the final
gift he had given her and go in the direction her heart now pulled her.
Cold metal cooled her forehead, and she peeled a glove from one arm, every
intention of passing it before the DNA recognition system built into the
complex.
Tears climbed to her eyes, and heat built in her throat like the sun itself.
Why? Why do you torment yourself? Her
mind asked in a voice that echoed Magnus' but spoke in her own lilting accent.
She slammed her bare fist against the door and clenched her eyes shut,
oblivious to the large dent she had made in the metal before her.
She sagged against the door, the tears of years coming to the surface and
finally falling free. She sank to the floor, falling to her knees, and then lay
prone against the thin carpet of the hallway, sobbing her heart out.
And somehow, this time, it was a cleansing of emotion rather than a dwelling in
the past. She cried, and the years fell from her with the passing of tears, and
she knew, in her heart, that this was the last time she would cry for him; for
this room, for the time that they had shared. That this time was over, and it
was far past time to move on.
But even that knowledge did not stay the breaking of her heart, or the breadth
of emotion that passed through her, feeling too large for her constricted
throat and aching heart.
It was time. But that meant that he was truly gone, and she needed a naked
moment to let that information process, to feel the true loss of him as her
heart surged in her chest.
Her head hit the floor, and she coughed a despairing laugh at the ceiling,
still unable to believe it even after all this time. Almost seven years, and
she still had not let his ghost rest.
He was gone. All gone. And all that remained before
her was her life without him.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Magnus lay in his bed, elbows resting on the pillow and hands tucked behind his
head as he stared at the ceiling.
He barely understood the circumstances that had brought him here, though he
knew whose body he inhabited. He was made whole, made young again, with all the
chances he had never had as a grown man. Suddenly, there was time to change,
time to grow, time to be the man he had always hoped
he might be. Time, to be the man that Charles Xavier had ignited him with the
hope to become.
He could feel the pumping of his heart, the flow of blood, so warm and
familiar, the heat of youth and all its suppositions and arrogance. And yet, he
was too old in memory to fall prey to that sublime drumbeat. Joseph's memories
warred with his own, sparring for dominance, but there was no question of who
was in power here; never had been. They shared many of the same thoughts and
goals, so much so that it had been a simple thing for Magnus to absorb and
understand them once the Shadow King had departed. He was the one in control…
and yet, there beat in his heart a rhythm that commanded the attention of them
both. The Master of Magnetism had been a solitary, refined man, one who rarely,
if ever, spoke of his feelings. But Joseph had been younger, prey to the
feelings that gnashed and ground within his chest, and Magnus felt himself
imbued with their impatience, even now.
Give her time, he thought, and closed
his eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Her sorrow played out at last into the thin carpet below her, Rogue heaved a
shuddering sigh. She pressed a hand to her face, and bit back the emotion,
knowing it had run its course. She felt cleansed; a tabula
rasa on which anything could be written.
She was an independent woman, almost desperately so; had been, ever since the
union of her and Remy had been severed. But she knew, as John Donne had said,
and as she had learned in the school of Charles Xavier, that no man was an island.
It was time to move on.
The tears receded of their own accord as she rose, and she turned away from the
door and all its empty promise without a second thought.
It was time.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Rogue?" Magnus asked, his face a cacophony of
confusion as the door slid open. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," she breathed as if in discourse, the words released in relief.
"Do… would you like to come in?" he asked, still baffled.
She did not answer; instead she slid her arms around his waist and pulled him
in.
He felt his muscles flex against her, the thin inhalation and exhalation of
breath released. "Rogue…" he breathed, his voice caught between desire and
knowing.
"Seven years, Magnus," she said, her eyes blazing truth, and he understood the
existence of anger in its wake. "Seven years, and you're alive."
"Ah've been chained longer than Ah can remember. Ah
don't want to be chained anymore," she said, voice desperate, emerald green
eyes beseeching his.
He closed his eyes, unable to look at her, sighed as he spoke his next words.
"I would not ask this of you."
"You don't need to ask," she said, and pressed her mouth to his, pushing all
the doubt from his mind. He couldn't seem to help himself as he responded,
tongue slipping between her lips in an intricate dance.
"God, Magnus," she whispered, her syllables warm breath against his lips. "Ah
can't believe Ah've waited this long."
It was enough. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him, letting the
world and his conscience fall away.
He pulled her into the room, and she curled against him like a lightning bolt;
powerful and eager.
He turned the weight of their bodies toward the bed and laid her down,
spreading her hair away from her face in a gorgeous fan of pure white and
auburn.
"You're sure?" he whispered, breathless in the face of her vulnerability, her
beauty.
Her eyes were bright, despite the haze of passion that clouded them. "Ah'm sure."
"Sabine…" he asked, his voice desperate, held in check by force of will alone.
"Erik," she said, gazing up at him with an expression he had only hoped he
might ever see. "Please."
"Even this body…" he began, then trailed off, not
quite willing to admit what he felt. And God, she was pressed so close against
him, every curve of her body flush against his, straining with passion that
made his mind recede. Who was he? Joseph? Magneto? Magnus?
"Wants me," she finished, reaching up to caress his face, pulling him close to
her own. "Needs me. Loves me…?" she asked, her voice
trembling on the last words.
He warred with secrecy of emotion in his own soul and closed his eyes. "Yes."
"Then love me," she said, eyes burning, bright and earnest. "Love me."
And letting go of everything that defined him of being an enigma, of being an
island unto his own, he lowered his mouth to her invitation, and felt her take
all of him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Love took them, and they stretched and strained in the darkness, bodies moving
together in a rhythm old as time; sweet and beautiful as a symphony as at last
they let go of the feelings that had held them captive for more years than they
could count.
She took, and he gave; he took, and she gave, and every moment was sweet
harmony, a release of love and joy he had scarcely imagined. Her eyes gazing
into his, he pleasured her in every way he knew possible. It was beautiful, sacrosanct
in its perfection, and he kissed her mouth as he moved atop her, wanting to
preserve every memory, wanting to memorize the feel of her beneath him, of
himself inside her.
God… how could there be more than this? He wondered as
he climaxed. And yet he knew there was more, so much more, that he had yet to
experience. The slight giving of her soul tonight, the truth she had laid upon
him, were more than she had ever given, and he knew there could only be more to
follow.
She kissed him and clung to him, her arms wrapped around his body, and he felt
her find satisfaction again beneath the rhythm of his body. He stiffened, spent
his passion, and collapsed at last within her arms, still kissing her, mouth
still joined to hers. At last, she was here, alive and breathing in his arms,
and though he could scarcely believe it, he knew one thing for certain—he would
never let her go.
She sighed, contented, and at long last, they subsided. They fell asleep, still
locked in the embrace of their passion.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
She woke him with a kiss and a smile.
"How do you feel?" she asked, gazing with vulnerable innocence into his eyes.
"Better than ever," he admitted with a smile that rose up to claim her lips.
She kissed him back, fervently, passionately, then drew
away, her mouth still smiling.
"Hungry?" she asked with a knowing smile.
He chuckled and nodded, still marveling at the feel of their bodies pressed
together, fascinated by how comfortable it was, how easy. "Yes. Very hungry."
"Ah'll make us some breakfast," she said with
a grin and a small kiss upon his lips before rising.
"I do not care much for food at this point," he said, eyes locked upon her
naked body as she pulled away.
"Plenty o' time for that," she said with a giggle, and he marveled at the sound
of freedom in her voice. "Ah'll rustle us up some
breakfast, we'll deal with the team, and then we'll get right back here."
"Promise?" he asked, gray-blue eyes beseeching hers with hunger.
"Ah think it's forgone," she said with a chuckle.
He watched her dress with reverence in his eyes, admiring the temple of her
body. So smooth, so perfect and beautiful. Breasts and
hips wide with a voluptuousness that would have boggled modern day models, she
was the epitome of woman; the epitome of all he desired in this strange, new
life he had been given.
"Ah just gotta get to mah
room, get some clothes, and then we'll be on our way."
"Hurry," he pleaded with breathless sigh that betrayed the younger origins of
his body.
"Ah will," she promised with a grin and a wink.
He watched her leave the room with a slow smile. This was only the beginning of
what they might yet share.
And the young heart that beat in his breast could not wait for more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rogue waved one hand over the bedroom door sensor, hardly giving thought to the
fact that her fingers were bare. It was time, and she had shed her gloves like
a snakeskin last night, revealing the tender heart beneath. Magnus was not
Remy, but he understood her more than anyone else left in the world. He was her
best friend, her partner in this world, and she was left contented by the
knowledge that she had at long last brought him into her life as a lover.
It felt right. He was everything she had left in her life that did not belong
to her children, and—
The door to her room slid open, and she entered without any sense of
expectancy, the years before having ground her desire and hope into
nothingness. She expected nothing more than the peaceful flow of sheets and
blanket, laid flat with the absence of her presence.
She was wrong.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Cool blue sheets shifted and churned, and a body sat up, disturbed by her
intrusion.
She clapped numb hands to a face that suddenly could not feel.
"Where am I?" the body demanded, eyes narrowing on her though the thin veil of her
consciousness.
She cried out, her voice stifled by the hands in front of her. She was
dreaming. Still held in the comfort of Magnus' embrace, her
guilt the impetus of this mirage.
"Why am I here?" he demanded, the sheets falling from his body, like a veil of
memory torn from her mind. She knew him in that instant, recognized him on an
intrinsic level that went far beyond conscious thought.
"Oh mah God," she breathed, consciousness falling
from her.
She fell to her knees and the world swirled around her in a maelstrom of
emotion. This couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Better she had died than have
her prayers answered now, of all times.
"Remy," she gasped, her voice the hope of years too long denied.
And then she was gone.
