This fic was inspired by a random burst of inspiration from Rogue/Magneto Discord.
Story starts shortly after the events of Ultimate X-Men #12.
For those who may not be familiar with the Ultimate Universe (a reimagining of Earth 616 starring in the early 2000's) and reading this because it's a Rogue/Magneto pairing: The Ultimate Universe, IMO, asked bold questions. Such as, what if they are no quintessential, "good guys"? What if the gritty reality of the early 2000's and its political landscape influenced and permeated throughout every character's action and choices?
There are no heroes here and our technically canon compliant story follows suit. This is pure filth (NSFW) with plot. You've been warned. Might be dead dove for some. Tag included just in case.
This story is completely written and will be uploaded, chapter by chapter, over the next ten weeks. (To give me time to work on other stuff XD)
Please enjoy
Say My Name- Chapter One:
Rogue, Marian Carlyle, walked through a park in downtown Queens with a little pep in her step. She was free, for the first time in months. Weapon X couldn't control her any longer. No more broken bones or torture sessions for Colonel Wraith's and his men's amusement. No more missions. No more fighting other mutants.
She remembered when that delusional redhead Jean Grey had asked her and Cain to join the X-Men. Good lordie had they had a good laugh about that before setting off to go find the Brotherhood instead. They had been with Toad and Blob briefly, but had gotten separated during the escape from Shield's forces.
Without knowing where those two were, they hadn't located any others yet. Cain hoped they'd find some contacts in New York, but with Magneto dead, the Brotherhood's members had crawled into the shadows, fearing the same treatment Charles Xavier had wrought upon his supposed oldest friend.
And with Cain's size, it's not like the big thug could gallivant around Queens without causing some kind of ruckus. So, it was on her to go out to scavenge them up some clothes. Not that anything of an average size fit Cain, and she hoped the oversized shirts she had stuffed in the backpack over her shoulder wouldn't be ripped to ribbons as soon as she gave them to him. Maybe she could salvage a shirt and make him some improvized tanks. It was the best she could do for now, with their limited resources.
She didn't have as much of a problem clothing herself, fortunately. The outfit she'd stolen for herself from a little thrift shop had her mighty happy. Blue jeans that fit like a glove, a long sleeve green shirt of a deep emerald green, a black hoodie that clung to her body like a warm hug and a pair of nearly new black leather gloves. She felt fine as rain in her new ensemble.
Next on her itinerary was getting them some food, while keeping her ear to the ground for any Brotherhood contacts. And while she wasn't having much luck, even as her stomach was growling something fierce, she was having a blast walking through the park. It was so peaceful. The cool breeze in the air; couples sitting, eating; children and parents, running, laughing, playing, throwing balls, tossing frisbees. It was nice, sweet. Kind of reminded her of back home. Just with a lot less cursing or sounds of glass breaking or parents fighting or children screaming…
Okay, maybe it wasn't like back home at all. Maybe this is what she wished growing up in the trailer park had been like. What growing up anywhere had been like.
Either way, Cain didn't need to know how long each task should've taken her. As long as she showed up with some food, the big thug wouldn't care. He was simple like that. They both were. Just simple folk who grew up near each other, then captured by a Rogue government outfit and tortured and held together. And now they were free together too.
'I'm taking my time getting back,' Rogue decided. Not that she didn't like him, but Cain was- being around him sort of felt like she was still stuck. Especially with the way he looked at her, like he wanted to touch every inch of her deadly skin.
And the big guy was just dumb enough to try it, and his touch wasn't the kind she longed for. She didn't want him, or their history together hanging over her head. Just like it would've been back home if there hadn't been any prospects and she hadn't turned out like a 'fuckin' freak' like her daddy called her. She certainly didn't want big and dumb, she wanted thoughtful, experienced, romantic, slow and sensual. All the things she'd never be able to have.
Something hit her foot and Rogue stopped abruptly.
"Miss, would you mind throwing that back?" a voice called out to her.
"Huh?" Rogue asked, as she glanced up to an older gentleman with neatly white hair looking at her with a bright smile. He pointed downwards as he sauntered in her direction. Glancing down. Rogue found a frisbee laying at her feet. "Oh," she exclaimed as she bent down and picked it up.
"Kid's got one heck of an arm," he said, as she returned to her feet. The warmth in his voice brought a smile to her face.
"Here ya go, sir," she said, offering it back to him, as she glanced up at the man standing only a few feet away from her now.
Rogue blinked a little startled as she stared up into his crisp blue eyes. She'd seen those eyes before, hadn't she? Maybe not in person, but what mutant hadn't seen his image.
"Thank you, miss," he smiled, taking the item back as she took a good look at him. He had a beard currently, neatly cut, framing his mouth, that gave him a sort of distinguished gentleman vibe. But it was an article of his clothing that caught her attention. He was wearing a scarf of light lavender. The color against his complexion was almost iconic, instantly recognizable.
"Yeah, that's okay," she said uneasy as she watched him turn and throw it back to the kids. 'No, it can't be him, can it?' she thought, doubting herself. If it was him, why was he laying low in Queens of all places? 'I mean, it ain't like me and Cain ain't doing the same thing,' she reasoned.
"Thanks, again," he said, turning to leave with a friendly wave.
But he was- wait, did those kids have Down's Syndrome?
Okay maybe this guy just looked similar to the leader of the Brotherhood? And he was dead, wasn't he? Killed in Washington… by Charles Xavier… the pacifist?
She glanced back over at him.
'Only one way to be sure,' she thought as she slipped off a glove. She took a step closer to him and hesitated. If this was Magneto, she wasn't sure how much he would appreciate having his mind siphoned into hers. "Hmm, sir?" she decided to ask instead.
"Yes, miss?" he asked, turning back to look at her.
"I've got kinda an odd request," she said and she watched his eyebrow arch with curiosity. "Could I shake your hand?" she asked.
"Well," he said, a smile tugging at his lips, "that is typically how you would introduce yourself," he said as he extended his right hand out to her. "I'm Erik Lensherr. And you are?" he asked.
"Marian Carlyle," she smiled as she took his hand and she felt a surge of static as their hands connected, not the usual pull she felt, it was different? No, it would only be a moment before the images started. She closed her eyes in anticipation and reflexively pulled. Soon, but a little slower than Marian expected, she saw an array of images flooding her mind. God almighty, she hated this part. They were always so fast and she had to try and make sense of them. Or at least slow them down just enough to actually learn something…
There was a blonde haired middle aged woman, handing someone, no- him, a glass of wine. They stood in a little kitchen, the remnants of dinner still on the kitchen table; two plates that had served steaks, mashed potatoes and green beans; along with a smaller plate that had a few uneaten pieces of mac and cheese. The room was connected to a living room, where a little girl was playing with a doll on a couch, the television playing a children's program in the background, some nonsense he had no interest in. He's watched enough of it with his students.
"Erik, want to watch a movie after I put Stephanie to bed?" the middle aged woman asked.
There was a documentary he was interested in, the one on the Brotherhood of Mutants, exploring their carnage in their war against humanity. He didn't know why he was gratified toward that group, but Betty was growing tired of it. Hence, the movie suggestion. Not that he was in the mood for it. They'd just gone to the cinema the evening prior and while enjoyable, there was more to do with one's time. In fact, another notion popped into his mind, of a far more intimate use of their time together.
"I thought we might go to bed ourselves," he replied, a hint of a grin on his lips.
"You're so bad," the woman teased, feeling a hand on his shoulder. "You and that silver tongue of yours."
"Oh, ho ho!" he exclaimed. "So now you have complaints regarding how I use my silver tongue?" he asked knowingly before taking a sip of his wine and tilting his head suggestively.
"Erik," the woman reprimanded while trying very hard not to giggle, her fingers suddenly kneading slightly at his shoulder.
Erik glanced down at the woman, now pressing herself up against him and in the back of his mind felt an underlying sense of disgust. Who did they sapien, this overweight harlot, think she was?! Didn't she know who he was? Didn't he-
Erik blinked as the thought was cast to the far reaches of his mind.
What had he been thinking again?
"Erik?" the woman repeated, with a twinge of concern in her voice. He blinked, recalling what they'd been speaking about. A smile came to his face as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't quite get that. Was that a complaint?" he asked.
"Stephanie," the woman called out. "Time for bed sweetie," she announced as he took another sip of his drink.
"But, mom! It's not even dark yet," the little girl of nine years protested.
"Now, young lady," she ordered, while keeping her eyes on him and all he had to offer.
It wasn't too long before he had her on the bed, naked, her blushing face pressed into a pillow, her moans muffled so as not to wake her daughter, as his silver tongue worked its magic between her eagerly spread legs and folds of her womanhood, on her swollen little clit.
Rogue pulled back from the memory, blushing herself, as she realized she was on the ground, or rather the grass.
"Miss, are you alright there?" a deep voice asked. "You look a little flush," he added and only caused her to blush more.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, trying to process what her powers had shown her before her eyes snapped to the concerned man kneeling down, on one knee, next to her. "Are you?" she asked Magneto.
"I'm perfectly fine," he said, somewhat bewildered.
"I don't think ya are," she muttered mostly to herself, looking down at her bare hand, wondering if she should try again, to learn more. It was definitely Magneto, had to be. But why was he here? What had happened to him? Who had done this to him?
"Then perhaps, I should have a sit down, as well," he said, glancing up at him, she saw a mixed expression. Something between confusion and empathy, maybe. "Did you hear my name earlier?" he asked.
"Erik Lensherr," she answered, as he sat beside her, now facing the same direction as her. The children he was with were still tossing the frisbee back and forth. He wasn't leaving. That was good. She could try and think, figure out what to do.
"It's nice to meet you, Marian," he said smiling. "You don't hear that one often, do you?" he asked warmly.
"No, sir," she said, matching his kind expression. And she blinked realizing he was studying her.
"You still look a bit flushed," he commented. "And I don't mean to alarm you but you were unresponsive for a few moments back there. I had half a mind to call for an ambulance," he said and Rogue felt her eyes widen.
That was the last thing she needed. The moment someone tried to touch her skin, she'd be exposed as a mutant and then what would happen to her? No way could she let that happen.
She watched his eyes flare, he must have seen her fear.
"Have you eaten or drank anything in the past few hours?" he asked next.
"No, sir," she answered honestly, shaking her head. "I haven't eaten since-" she started to say before her voice trailed off. Had it been yesterday she'd stolen from that street vendor? It wasn't much. Just an apple but-
"Wait here, Marian," he ordered as he stood. Rogue felt a sense of apprehension. Should she follow? What if he was- oh, he was walking over to the hot dog cart and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. She watched him hold up two fingers.
'That sounds so good right now,' she thought to herself. It wasn't long before he returned with two paper containers loaded with a hot dog each.
"With or without sauerkraut?" he asked, glancing up at him, she noticed the two water bottles he had stuck in either of his front pockets.
"With, please," she answered, pulling out her southern mannerisms, smiling up at him as she stripped off her other glove. This might get messy. He handed her both containers, before unloading the water on the grass and sitting down beside her. She handed him back one of the hot dogs.
"Mmm," she moaned as she enjoyed her first large bite. It tasted so good and she hadn't had a hot meal in a while. A little of the sauerkraut fell onto her finger and she quickly licked it clean, not wanting any of it to go to waste.
It was then she noticed, he was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, with a raised eyebrow and Rogue felt her face blush yet again. Right, hearing a woman moan next to him probably wasn't how he thought his afternoon was going to go.
"Thank you," she said after swallowing, vowing to consume her next bite with a little more ladylike decorum.
"You're welcome," he said.
She took a smaller bite next, she mulled over what to do. Cain liked to call her the brain to his brawn. The truth was, she was just smarter than him. She didn't know what to do about a problem this big. Coming up with plans for something this intense?! She'd stumbled across Magneto. The Magneto. If only she could ask for his advice, he'd know what to do. Not that she-
'Wait, can I?' she asked herself as she swallowed. He was sitting right next to her. "Sir, I've kind've got this problem that I don't know how to handle. Could I ask you about it?"
"Ha!" he said, letting out a hearty laugh. "Requests for advice are an occupational hazard," he laughed and she looked at him funny, tilting her head. "I'm a teacher," he elaborated. "I teach fourth grade at the Institute of Special Education in the Bronx," he explained further. "We like to take the students all around town for their after school specials."
"So, that's a yes?" she prompted before taking another bite, this one was such a big bite that it got her about a third of the way done with the dog already.
"That would be a yes, yes," he grinned.
"Thanks," she said, her mouth half full. "Sorry," she said next, covering her mouth with her hand as she chewed.
"There's no rush," he said. "I'm here for another fifty or so minutes until the students' parents arrive to retrieve them. I don't mind the excuse to stay seated. Those youngsters can take it out of you," he said warmly. And she smiled before swallowing. She put the dog down to grab the water bottle he provided and take a nice long gulp of that before finally turning her attention back to him. "Hey, eat while it's hot," he advised and she nodded, picking up the dog to finish it off.
"Okay," she said a couple of minutes later, the empty container on the ground next to her and she made use of a napkin he'd pulled out of another of his pant's pockets. He'd done the same, finishing his snack alongside her. "Let's say that someone is in danger. But they have no idea they're in danger and even if ya told 'em they might not even believe ya. But you know they're in trouble. How would you help them?" she asked.
"I think I'll need a little more context before I can provide any advice," he said. "Can you have a conversation with this individual?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"And have you tried that?" he asked.
"Telling them they're in danger? No, not yet, but I know they've tried to tell themselves but it keeps getting-" she said before cutting herself off.
How did she explain this without bringing mutant abilities into this. She didn't want to freak him out and make him leave. Her and Cain's whole goal was to hook up with the Brotherhood and she'd just found their long-lost leader. He couldn't leave until she had a plan.
"Keeps getting what?" he asked.
"I don't know the word for it," she said.
"Try to describe it to me," he suggested.
"Like, when a memory happens and then the person doesn't remember it anymore," she said.
"Repressed?" he asked, his eyebrow raised even further.
"Yeah, that's it. Even if the person kinda starts remembering they're in danger, they repress the memory and go back ta-"
"Being ignorant of the danger they're in," he finished, supplying her with the words.
"Yeah, that!" she agreed. "So, how do I help 'em?" she asked.
"Well, you-" he said before pausing. "You can't assume they'll repress it every time. You have to try, at least once, to tell them the truth of it," he said.
"Magneto, but what if that doesn't work?" she asked him, deliberately testing her ploy. She was rewarded for trusting her instincts as she watched his expression go blank. Before long, his eyes were back on her and she held in a breath, wondering if that was enough, if she done it-
"You can't assume they'll repress it every time. You have to try, at least once, to tell them the truth of it," he said and she sighed, knowing he had no idea he'd repeated himself.
"Okay, let's pretend I tried that. I call them by their name, right ta their face and instantly they forgot about it," she said. "What do I try next?" she asked and he held her gaze for a long moment.
"Marian, are mutant abilities in play?" he asked curiously.
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Sorry, I- I didn't know if you'd believe me," she said.
"Pretend you tried-" he repeated before he cut himself off, his eyes darting back and forth, as he reasoned out what was happening. Bright blue snapped back to her green. "Am I the one in danger here? Is this advice for me?" he asked.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, before a sense of unease overtook her, worrying her that the conversation would be over, right then and there. "Please don't leave," she said, deciding to confront it head on as she put her hand on his clothed arm. "I don't know how to help you but you need help, Erik," she said. "So, what do I do, sir? Just tell me and I'll do it," she said, with a sense of urgency in her voice.
"What exactly do you believe has been done to me?" he asked, placing his bare hand over hers. Rogue felt a surge of static energy as his hand was now over hers, but not the pull- "Are you alright?" he asked.
"That doesn't hurt?" she asked him.
"Holding your hand?" he asked and she nodded. "No," he answered. "Is it supposed to?" he asked.
"Yeah, I usually knock most people out flat," she answered before looking down at their hands. She placed her hand over his. "I haven't touched someone else's skin without hurting them in- it's been years," she said, feeling a tear run down her face.
"Is that your mutant ability?" he asked, placing his other hand over hers, completely engaging hers. The contact was so much, she was trying not to cry and failing, tears running down her face.
"Part of it," she answered, unable to help herself as she entwined their fingers. She was grateful he allowed it. "I can- I can see inta people's head," she said.
"Like a telepath?" he asked.
"Kinda," she shrugged. "Do you believe me?" she asked him.
"I believe that you believe it," he answered.
"That's better than a no, I guess," she said and he sighed at that.
"What did you see in my mind when we shook hands earlier?" he asked.
"You and Betty just finished dinner, streak, mashed potatoes and green beans," she said as she watched his eyes widened. Her stomach growled at the thought of more food, but she ignored it. "Stephanie was watching TV, playing with her doll. Betty wanted to watch a movie, but you wanted to watch the documentary on the Brotherhood of Mutants. You knew she wasn't gonna wanna, so you suggested doing something else," she finished, her eyes lingering on his lips before she quickly glanced away blushing again.
"That was last night," he said, his voice somewhat hollow.
"Sorry, I know it's an invasion, but I recognized ya and I had to know if it was really you. Now that I know that it is, I'm tryna figure out why you don't know you're you," she said. "And I'm afraid ta say your name again cause when I tried ta a couple minutes ago, you just repeated yourself," she said, overexplaining the situation due to his memory loss.
"Try again," he said. "Say my name," he ordered.
"You're Magneto, Master of Magnetism, Leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants," she said before his face went blank before refocusing on her.
"Try again, say my name," he ordered as soon as sense returned to his face.
She repeated herself this time, varying her answer, ten, fifteen, twenty more times, all to the same effect. The kids were well-behaved, allowing the two adults to have their time to converse quietly while they played among the colorful equipment and their own games.
"This ain't working, Magneto," she said to his next reiteration of the same question. At least she got to hold his hand, that was kinda nice. She missed skin-to-skin contact. Cain could say she was harping over nothing all he wanted. There was value to this, to connection and the more time she had to go without it, the sadder that simple truth became.
"Try again, say my name," he ordered yet again.
Time…
"Do you have a watch?" she asked, suddenly an idea coming to mind.
"I'm afraid not," he answered, as she looked down at his wrists, saddened they were bare. "I stopped trying to wear them weeks ago, I kept breaking them," he said and Rogue felt her eyes widen.
"How?" she asked, her fingers tightening against his.
"The hands always spun like a compass then just stopped dead at magnetic north. It was the strangest thing," he said.
Seeing a glimmer of hope, she asked, "Erik, which member of the Brotherhood can control Magnetism?" she asked.
"Magneto," he answered and she laughed.
"Can you say that name again?" she asked.
"Magneto," he repeated easily, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, now can you say, 'I am Magneto?'" she asked and she watched as his face went blank yet again. "No! We were so close!" she exclaimed.
"Try again, say my name," he ordered, his eyes refocusing and she groaned, realizing they'd lost the slim amount of progress they'd made. He raised his eyebrow at her reaction before his attention was turned away.
"Mr. Lensherr," a voice called out from across the field. He pulled his hand from hers and Rogue let out a defeated sigh.
"Excuse me a moment. It appears they're early," he said as he stood. Rogue quickly stood.
"No, they're not," she said firmly, standing, putting her hand on his arm. "I said your name," she said, pulling him to look at her. "Your real name, over and over and over and over again. So, you go ahead and ask them what time it is," she ordered. "Let 'em tell ya. So, you'll come back over here and let me keep trying," she said.
He nodded, a little unnerved before he took a step away from her.
Rogue sat back down on the grass, as she watched him walk over to the two children and their parents. She sat in utter anticipation, scared beyond belief he was going to take off. She didn't know how it'd look if she tried to run after him. But she couldn't let him leave her sight until they had a plan.
Then to her relief she saw one of the parents, the father raise his wrist and look at a watch. Magneto stepped backward, like he was taken back by what he'd been told.
'Come on, come on, come on,' she chanted in her mind, as she tapped her foot against the grass, waiting.
Erik Lensherr stood with Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and their children, the twins who suffered from Down's Syndrome, making the adequate amount of small talk, utterly aware the young mutant was still sitting on the grass behind him, waiting. He hadn't wanted to believe the girl, but it wasn't possible that what he recalled of their conversation had been said in the allotted time.
He was missing time.
And if he was being honest with himself, this wasn't the first time he'd been aware of that. But he had dismissed it as absent mindedness on his part. The girl, Marian, offered him an explanation. And in this world filled with shadow governments, secret societies, Mutants, and every other insanities featured on the eight o'clock news; who was the fool, the one who denied such curiosities, or the one who embraced them?
At the very least, he'd hear her out.
Having said his final farewells to the Johnson's, he lingered for a moment, seeing them off, before he turned back to look at the girl. She had a sort of nervous energy, like she was getting ready to bolt and he wondered if she intended to chase him had he not returned to her.
Rather than force her to worry a moment longer, he gestured with his hand, beckoning for her to join him. She was quick to her feet, marching up to him. She placed her hand at her sides, like she was standing at attention for a general.
"I need to make a phone call and then we can continue," he informed her.
"Where?" she asked. It was a blunt question, to the point; non-argumentative, rather seeking clarification. Whoever she thought he was, that man commanded respect.
"My apartment," he said. "Come with me," he ordered.
"Yes, sir," she agreed easily, with a stern nod, ready to follow him.
Something about issuing orders like this felt… familiar, natural even. Or perhaps that was power talking? The girl seemed like she'd do anything he'd ask of her. She had said as much. That was a heady feeling, lesser men had let that sort of power go to the heads. And he certainly wasn't unaware of the blush that hadn't truly left her cheeks since she touched him.
Perhaps his apartment wasn't the best choice of location. But where else could he freely enter a fugue state without drawing unsolicited attention?
No, it would have to do and he just wouldn't take advantage of a potential delusional girl many years his junior.