Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply; X-men, Marvel, etc, are not mine. Beth, Genie and Ky are. sticks out tongue. So, um, don't steal them without previous permission.
A.N.: Um, please let me know how this is going. I guess I was on a sugar-high today or something, and I did write this while munching on peanuts and listening to James Blunt. It's past 1:00 a.m. and I just finished writing it, so if it's bad shrugs don't lose hope, I'm going to be writing more and better tomorrow. :-)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rogue cradled her chin in her hands as she leaned her elbows on her knees. She sat huddled on the window-box in the library.
Outside a soft breeze blew a few stray leaves from the trees. A bird suddenly took flight from its perch in a branch, outlined for a moment in the sky, a dark silhouette against the clouds.
She wanted to fly, wanted to take off and never return, never have to face her judgment, because when Remy had finished reading all that there was to read, there would be very little left to her… or, there would be an utter completeness.
So there sat the Rogue, five years older, one man less innocent, one reunion more nervous, waiting in the library for the one man that she loved to make the final decision.
Did he still love her, or didn't he?
The sun was beginning to fall by the time she lifted her head, stretching some cramped muscles that she hadn't even noticed were being bruised.
Physical pain had long been overpowered by emotional pain, leaving no room for her to notice that she had left a clear imprint of her nails in her left palm.
The first time that she had opened up to Justin, as she sat there talking, she had done that to her hand. He had leaned in closer and gently touched her wrists, making her stop hurting herself. She had flinched slightly, but was relieved when the pain went away.
The moon had risen above the horizon, a brilliant sunset was displayed across the sky, covering the entire view from the library.
A white stripe of hair fell in front of her eyes, her head leaned against the windowpane.
"Forgive me," she whispered into the sunset.
The sunset was fading into a cool night as the ship lifted anchor, preparing to take off into the calm seas.
It has been five years, but I remember even the smallest detail, of his face, his gloved hands, his eyes, that searched mine with pain…and, finally, understanding.
"Rogue. Wake up…y' safe now, chere. I'm not leavin' you."
A hand that almost shook as it carefully unwrapped her hands, taking her wrists, gliding over the back of her palm, a light kiss on her bare hand.
It was then that I knew that no matter what the distance between us, of time or of space, no matter how vast, how long, in my heart I had pledged my love to him forever.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
The cold night air blew against her face. Her eyes closed for a moment, her tongue licked her lips once. She had been running for hours. Her muscles were burning, as were her eyes. Her hair glittered in the moonlight, clawed hands found spaces, rocks and roots to hoist her up with.
She could see enough in the moonlight to realize that she was scaling a rocky wall, a cliff. Why? Well, who knows?
Her foot slipped, and she hissed in anger. With her heels, she kicked off her shoes, her toes suddenly developing the same claws as her hands. The muscles in her arms suddenly rippled, developing new depth, new strength as she made it to the cliff top, and kept on running.
There was a pool of water, and she skimmed through it, her feet webbing, scaled momentarily appearing, then disappearing on her skin.
She walked down a cave entrance, through a metallic door, until she reached a room decorated sparingly with a desk and some sculptures.
She stood there, her skin suddenly a milky white. Her hair became long, and jet black, her eyes the faintest blue.
"Master," she bowed to the man.
Suddenly, another figure caught her attention, and she turned around, her eyes widening.
"Sir," she said. This time, her voice was humble.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
"No."
For some reason, he simply hadn't expected to hear that, so…well, so decisive. He had flattered himself that he had a way with women, correction, he had a way with women, but Genie was different.
Jean had told him how, about a year ago, they had gone to New Orleans on a mission…to fight Sinister. He had had a secret base there. As it was, Stormy had caused a freak storm, which left the city covered with snow for several days.
Remy had calculated that that was when he had found Beth. Putting two and two together, it wasn't hard to work out that, probably thanks to the X-men interrupting Sinister's experiments, she had been able to escape, out into the snow.
That was where Genie came in. She had been a dancer at the same theater as Beth, and she had had a bad experience while there. That had been about a year ago, and she still wasn't talking.
After half an hour of coaxing, Gambit was tired of it all.
"What is wrong wit' ya!" be almost bellowed at her.
"Dis is Beth's life y' playing wit', can't you see dat?"
Her eyes went wide with fear, then glittered coldly.
He felt a small tugging at the back of his spine, like a prickle, and then he started to feel very, very light. In fact, he was floating. Everything in the room was, as was everyone else present. The furniture, books, pot-plants, ornaments, pictures, even a carpet and some mounds of dust were dancing slowly through the air.
Her eyes had long lost contact with anything that the naked eye could see. In front of her eyes, she could see memories.
She didn't even move as her voice began to flow out, reliving everything.
It was cold. Theaters are usually quite chilly, so I didn't find that so strange. But then, it was as though the air had turned to steel…I turned on the heater in my room, but the closer I sat to the warmth, the colder it got.
I put on all the jumpers that I had, my gloves, socks, shoes, a hat, a scarf, and nothing helped.
My nails had long turned blue, I was shaking all over. The room began to spin and I thought that it was all going to be over…I was about to pass out…
In the distance, I heard a laugh, then a single scream.
My room was the closest to the stage where we had been dancing our latest show, so I got up and headed towards it. I didn't know how I was able to stand, except that I had heard the scream, her scream, and I knew that I had to do something.
I saw a man, and a girl, a frail dancer. He was forcing her to dance, laughing as she fell, shaking, weak. She was begging him not to—not to hurt the baby…
It was then that the warmth started to reenter my body. I threw off my jacket and suddenly it hit the man, right in the face.
Of course, then it was no use hiding.
The dancer curled up in a corner, clutching her stomach, crying. He turned to me, and suddenly I felt pain…all along my arms and back. I screamed once, and the dancer rushed forward, throwing herself on the man.
The pain stopped, and I fell down.
What happened next…I don't ever care to remember.
The man seemed to hook on to the baby in the girl's stomach, and twisted it. He was about to kill it, and the girl swore that she would do whatever he wanted if he would only spare the child.
So, he did what he knew would hurt her most.
He forced her to torture me.
All I know is that there was blood everywhere. Claws, eyes, thoughts that floated through my head, and pain.
The girl cried so much, and so hard, that at the end I cried with her, and for her, not for myself.
The stage dripped blood, and when it was over, he made me clean it up telekinetically and hide it under the theater, in the pipes.
He twisted my mind, I think, so that I hid the thoughts inside of me, so that until now I have not been able to tell anyone.
You see, that is my power…if I think hard enough about things, well, I suppose you can say that they happen. I don't think it's actually telekinesis, more like my thoughts are powerful enough to move things.
What the man did not know, was that I made a connection with the girl…I gave her some power, some power of thought. I do not know how.
When it was all over, he leaned down and he gave the dancer a shot of something, like some serum.
When I woke up again, she was nowhere to be seen, and if it weren't for the tell-tale smell of blood in the air, I would have thought it was all a bad dream. In fact, I did. Six months later, when I left New Orleans after I failed the theater and met up with the X-men in New York with the help of my brother, I still thought it was a bad dream.
But there was always that nagging thought at the back of my mind.
"What if it was real."
The furniture came crashing down, along with everyone else. They hit the floor without previous warning, and everything went black.
A.N.: This has got to be, like, the worst chapter ever. Grrr, I am disappointed in myself. But, it is another piece to the puzzle, so, um, enjoy. :-D Oh, and by the way, a million thanks to my faithful reviewers...this chapter is for you.