#but what i really want to know is if rogue and gambit took turns sleeping on that couch

[storyofmorewhoa]

Fan Review/Rant: Rogue & Gambit #1

"Ring of Fire:" The arc "Ring of Fire," links Rogue and Gambit with another iconic Southern duo in sharing its name with the 1961 country song written by June Carter and covered by Johnny Cash-- while they were both still married to other people-- equating sensuality with destruction. A line from the song, “I fell for you like a child,” particularly fits Rogue and Gambit. For in leaving home, traveling the world, and in ending up falling in love someone from the other side of the river-- is the unspoken hope of a second chance at childhood. Further layering the multi-tiered work R&G is proving to be, is the possibility that the title could additionally refer to the zone of volcanic and seismic activity that surrounds the Pacific Ocean which is also called the "ring of fire". This is interesting because not only does volcanic activity have the potential to create lush and fertile tropical islands, which is where R&G is set, but because it further alludes to natural intensity churning below the surface which has been essential to much of Rogue and Gambit's relationship.

The cover: The cover of R&G #1 is drawn as though from the perspective of someone about to be punched in the face by Rogue with a split second before the punch lands to enjoy a superb view. Kris Anka’s proportions and foreshortening are flawless. With Gambit’s care-free grin, Rogue’s smug smirk and raised eyebrow, the cover suggests that the series is going to be as much fun as those two are having. Frank D'Armata makes fantastic use of their signature colors, incorporating both the same shade of pink for Gambit’s eyes, armor, and charged playing cards, and the same green for Rogue’s eyes and suit into the series’ title lettering. Though the cover is undeniably enjoyable and gets the reader’s curiosity as peaked as Rogue’s eyebrow, it would have been more engaging if it was specific to this particular issue since the absence of plot-related substance makes it feel slightly generic. However, the technical skill behind it is too solid for any criticism beyond that.

a spread of ice or glass?: The comic begins with nine ordered rectangular panels containing: white blank spaces; images of Rogue and Gambit in a fight that is yet to come; and images of their shared past. The next two pages contain a spread of the two crashing through more past images in broken shards, displaying both Rogue's borrowed "flying brick" powers and Gambit's explosive force powers that break things apart from the inside. The broken shard imagery calls to mind two things: glass and ice. Viewing the shards as glass can be further broken down to two readings-- the first of which is best described by Battle of the Atom's Zach Jenkins as a shattered stained glass window. It is as though their relationship itself is a great mosaic of moments that is being destroyed. The second reading regarding glass is that each shard is merely reflecting Rogue and Gambit, but at a different times in their relationship. This recalls the images of Rogue contained under glass in framed photographs and on screens in Gambit vol.4-- as though their relationship was preserved but inaccessible. Lastly, the imagery also suggests ice, and that what they are crashing through is merely the surface of their relationship. Only once that is broken through can a deeper meaning be discovered. The significance of ice is evident with Rogue #1 (2001), in which Rogue is described as "a river of anger beneath... frozen indifference," the events in Antarctica of UXM #348-350 (1997), and XML #234 (2010) in which Rogue likens her sexual attraction to Gambit to melting snow.

"If time is a circle...": The prologue: “If / time / is / a / circle / then / everything / happens / at // once" indicates that the series will recap the evolution of their relationship. Much of this approach works and is achieved with small details in the writing and art. For example Gambit leaning in a doorway, allied with "Stormy" lightly retreads his introduction in Uncanny X-Men #266 (1990). Pérez gives the characters a fantastic range of facial expressions from smug to sensual, and Gambit's boyishness shines through, especially in the shard containing the aftermath of the X-Men #4 (1992) basketball game in which Gambit grabs Rogue. Gone is the chiseled pirate that Jim Lee drew. Instead Pérez draws Gambit like a big goofy kid, suggesting that even though the basketball game was over, Gambit and Rogue were still playing, although it was another kind of game. My favorite of Pérez's variations on back issues is the addition of Gambit's smile in a panel from X-Men #24 (1993). Pérez's action sequence in the Danger Room is fantastic, particularly when Rogue is so distracted by Gambit that she is hit by a sentinel fist, which takes on symbolic poignancy as a superhero whose powers are initiated through touch is immobilized by a giant hand. After the training session, Gambit ends up on top of Rogue with their lips centimeters apart, recalling Gambit #1 (1993). Their post-breakup friendship which was highlighted in XML #265 (2012) is emphasized as Gambit calls Rogue his best friend, and later Gambit suggests that they seize the opportunity for legitimate romance in the midst of an obvious trap as he did in Astonishing X-Men #4 (2017).

"Same as ever?": Other details in the characterizations do not work quite as well, specifically Rogue's return to her XM #4 (1992) disposition that requires Gambit to insistently initiate any kind of communication, and even worse, perpetuates the stereotype of a woman who says no-- but really means yes. It reads like they are back in the 1990s-- before they lived together, and before they were able to treat each other civilly as friends. Rogue even protests being in the same room as Gambit. While this is done to reestablish their early dynamic within this series, I would rather that behavior be left to the past. I also disliked their discussion on Deadpool. Instead of taking issue with Rogue becoming romantically involved with an assassin (to which Rogue could have rebuffed with Gambit's marriage to the head of the Assassins Guild), Gambit complains, "He doesn't even have a face." A lot of Gambit's charm is not just that he is conventionally attractive, but that he treats others as though they are too, and in Deadpool v Gambit (2016), Gambit even seemed to think of Deadpool as friend. While I understand that it is meant as a joke, and appreciated Rogue's defense of, "I didn't kiss Deadpool. I made out with him," her line: "maybe not having a face makes people... I don't know try harder. Maybe people as pretty as you have it too easy" struck me as too immature to be redeemably funny. In Uncanny Avengers #8 (2016) Rogue is confronted with Deadpool appearing as he would prefer to look, and tries to break the illusion gently knowing he is sensitive about it. Part of what made Rogue's brief romance with Deadpool so memorable was her willingness to take on Wade's scars and tumors in UA #22 (2017)-- especially when taking into account her character growth since preferring to kill Angel rather than take on his physical mutations in Dazzler #22 (1982).

"...something bigger": Shadowcat's line, "You're focused on the wrong thing. These mutants need your help, Rogue," and the inclusions of a gay couple and an interracial couple suggests a progressive social commentary in the background of R&G. Already, two very different sides of Paraíso are shown: a city where people presumably live, and the beautiful exclusive resort that locals probably could not afford to stay at. Perhaps R&G will indirectly touch on the effects of colonialism, or the exploitation of a country's natural beauty while ignoring the needs of the people who actually live there. As Gambit is from New Orleans, which depends on tourism for a large part of its revenue, it will be interesting to see if these dynamics will play a role as the series continues. The greatest of Rogue's and Gambit's many similarities to each other is not that they are from the south or had troubled childhoods. It is their acknowledgement that everyone needs to be accepted regardless of their differences. Being on a team that works towards everyone being accepted as they are and being free to love who they love is what brought them together. It's not just fighting, it's work, and I hope R&G allows them to work towards achieving that acceptance and love for others, and finally for themselves.

[padawanlost]

Something I've noticed recently over the past few months is this trend where people have been diagnosing Anakin with narcissistic personality disorder instead of C-PTSD or BPD, the more commonly seen diagnoses. I personally disagree, but I wanted to hear your "two sense" on the matter if you will, you're one of the best meta-writers on this site.

It’s because people don’t like Anakin as presented on screen. They want Anakin to be as selfish and arrogant as possible so they can blame him from everything that happened. If it’s ALL about Anakin than everyone else can be left off the hook. 

Anakin ‘I don’t want to be a problem’ Skywalker is clearly narcissistic. I mean, he fits all the signs:

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“You would forgo your destiny for Padmé?” Anakin’s brows beetled in anger. “I never claimed to be the Chosen One. That was Qui-Gon. Even the Council doesn’t believe it anymore, so why should you?” [ James Luceno. Labyrinth of Evil]

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Anakin bumped his hand against [Obi-wan]. “Wait. Just—wait.” Embarrassed, he took a deep breath. “Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just—it’s the mission, right? That’s what matters. So—”  “Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s whisper sounded amused. “It’s fine. I was about to suggest it myself when the droids turned up.”  “You were?”  “Play to your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. That’s how a battle is won. That’s how we’ll win the war.”  Anakin had to smile. I should’ve known he wouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah. So—once I’m up and over and nobody raises the alarm, give me a five-count then follow. I’ll give you the best Force boost I can. Not that you’ll need much. Your leap was only a meter and a half behind Master Windu’s. Remember?”  Obi-Wan gave a breathy chuckle. “I remember I had nosebleeds for a week afterward. Don’t ever feel bad for being extraordinary, Anakin. Now off you go. We don’t have all night.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want

“He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.” [Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith]

Exaggerate achievements and talents

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden, ending up with Qui-Gon Jinn and then Kenobi because nobody else would have him. His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them. I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”? Karen Traviss’s The Clone Wars

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

It’s not just Skywalker’s rank that makes us give him one hundred percent. It’s because he treats us with respect, and he puts himself on the line with us.” [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Having worked their way around the village, finding nothing to wake their uneasily sleeping sense of alarm, Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the beaten-dirt square and the charter house. Its doors were open now and a woman who had to be Teeba Brandeh stood on the broad step, hands on her narrow hips, watching the children scatter across the square to play a proper game of kickball. Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own. Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.” Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.”  May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—” Anakin’s amusement vanished.  “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw.  ”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” [Anakin] caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. Then, abruptly, she felt mortified. What was she doing? Weeping like a child all over a man young enough to be her son? Where was her pride? She shifted away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth 

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn.  [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

[Anakin] had worried that Obi-Wan did not have room for him in his heart. But Shmi’s smile rose in Anakin’s mind. Hearts have infinite room, my son. JUDE WATSON’S THE TRAIL OF THE JEDI

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

The fear and dread in her face eased, just a little. “You’re a very sweet young man, Anakin Skywalker.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] humbles me, sometimes. He makes me feel small. He can’t see a broken thing without wanting to fix it. [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

“I’m not giving him to you,” [Anakin]’d told her. “He’s not even really mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I’m a Jedi. I have renounced possessions. I guess that means he’s free now. What I’m really doing is asking you to look after him for me.”  “Look after him?”  “Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He’s a little fussy,” he’d admitted, “and maybe I shouldn’t have given him quite so much self-consciousness—he’s a worrier—but he’s very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat … like, say, a Senator from Naboo?”Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith 

[imaginepirates]

After Life

For the anon who requested a Beckett x reader where the reader is Beckett’s dead wife. Your ghost continues to watch over him, and you’re with him in his final days before being reunited in the afterlife. It follows some of the events that took place in awe. 

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official  @groovyfluxie @hellspawn-brownies 

~3400 words

~~~~~~~

          It had been so hard, those first few weeks. Beckett couldn’t hear you, couldn’t see you, couldn’t feel you; and all you had wanted was to let him know that you weren’t gone. You’d spent so much time trying to touch him, watching your ghostly hands push right through his body, your heart breaking each time you realized you would never be able to do so. You’d even gone as far as trying to paint things on the walls, or scratch messages into the wood. Eventually, you lost hope of communicating with your husband, instead trailing a few feet behind him at all times, never able to let him go.

          How could you? He was the love of your life; even now, he still muttered to you in his sleep, and he would talk to you like he believed you could hear him. All you wanted was to let him know that you did.

          It was a cruel trick fate had played on you, letting you die. Now you had to watch, day by day, as Cutler’s suffering whittled away at him. You remembered a time when there weren’t dark circles around his eyes. He grew wearier with each passing day, but you knew him: he would never admit such a thing to himself. Wasn’t it your job to take care of him?

          If only I could.

          All it had taken was a bullet. A single bullet through the stomach had separated you forever, creating a ghost out of you and a shell out of him. He had spent so much time mourning you, you had been afraid that his grief for you would drive him to obsession. Even still, years later, he wore a black ring for you.

          Sometimes, you still did some of the mundane things you’d done in life. You ran your ghostly fingers through his hair, or perched yourself near him as he worked. You often found yourself sitting in chairs you used to read in. On rare occasions, you would allow yourself to curl up next to him while he slept.

          You had realized, long ago, that your ghost could go anywhere it wished. You had utilized that ability so you weren’t stuck in the house all day, but it served a far greater purpose; anywhere Cutler went, you could follow. By land or by sea, you could always be with him.

          Now, you watched him sip tea with unsteady hands. He stared at a map laid out on the table before him. Unnecessarily, you figured. You knew that he had everything on the map memorized, but he was anxious to get to Shipwreck Cove, and he needed to distract himself with something.

          What will you do when you get there? Kill them all? Take them prisoner? Neither option sounds particularly possible. They’re pirates, they’ll run away.

          Ever since your death, it had become an unhealthy obsession for him to purge the seas of pirates. He had never been able let go of the knowledge that you’d been killed by a pirate. His fixation stemmed from that incident, turning its gnashing teeth on every rogue in its way.

          Will he ever be satiated? When every last one of them is gone, will he be content? You knew the answer. He is never content. He is a man who wants everything, and he can’t have that without me.

          You’d been afraid, at first, that he would remarry. It was the common thing to do; part of a man’s social status was determined by having a good wife. Yet he never had, and you were eternally grateful. Perhaps the only thing worse than watching him suffer would be to watch him happy with someone else.

          “I would do anything to have you back, you know.”

          You jumped—well, as much as a ghost could. You stared at Cutler with wide eyes, almost expecting him to look at you, but you realized with a sinking heart that he was looking at the wall behind you.

          “I’ve come close. I thought maybe the compass would show me something. It never did.” He stared miserably at the wall, pulling out a decanter of brandy and filling a glass. “It really isn’t the same, without you.” It was a whisper, as if he were afraid someone could hear.

          You drifted over to him, cupping one of his cheeks with a hand.

          “I’m afraid to die, you know. I don’t particularly believe in heaven; even if I did, I doubt they’d let me in.” He scoffed, downing a mouthful of burning liquid. “I would be less afraid if I knew you were waiting for me. It wouldn’t be so bad, then.”

          You wanted to scream, to tell him everything, to calm his fears and strip him of his worries. But you stayed silent, stroking his cheek.

          “Do you know how many times I’ve thought that I’ve seen you places?”

           Do you know how many times I thought you’d seen me?

          “How many times I went to speak to you, only to realize that you weren’t there?”

          How many times I’ve fruitlessly, wordlessly, noiselessly answered you?

          “How many times I wished I could reach out and hold you?”

          How many times I’ve held you? Caressed you?

          “How many times I would have given anything and everything, just to see you one more time?” His voice finally broke. “Dear god, I hope you know that if I could have anything, it would be you. I don’t need any of this.” He waved a hand around vaguely. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his wedding ring. He sniffed once, then straightened back up, eyes darting around the room.

          You knew that method; it was his way of grounding himself before he lost control. He hated to cry. He prided himself on his control over his emotions, and it was no wonder why. You’d never met his father, but even outside of Cutler’s stories, you’d heard how cruel he could be. For fear of punishment, Cutler had learned to control everything about himself.

          He’s afraid to die, you thought, but he’s afraid of so much else besides. Fear and ambition paired themselves in him. And they are such good motivators.

          He blinked a few times, then set his face to neutral. He moved the maps back to their places, taking care to roll them up gently, setting the decanter of brandy exactly as he’d found it, tidying his desk until everything was just as he’d had it that morning, save for the tea-tray sitting to one side.

          Death has been on his mind lately. Why? Does he think this will be the end of him? Not likely—not with the Dutchman on his side. So why now?

          Though even you had to admit, there had been quite a theme, lately. Sao Feng, Governor Swann, and then that poor Norrington boy. You’d been quite fond of him. It was a shame he’d died, though you weren’t entirely sure where his soul had gone. Maybe yours only hung on because of Cutler, and that was why you were still here with him.

          It made no matter, you supposed, though it did make you wonder: where would your soul go when he died? You clung to the idea that you would be reunited, though as he’d said himself, it might be a false hope.

          The days passed in that slow way that they do, when one is at sea. Unchanging scenery made you feel stagnant. Even though ships were vessels of travel, you felt like you were going nowhere, unmoving on the vast canvas of shimmering aquas and deep blues.

          Then you found them.

          At first, you had assumed they were just barrels, but the seagulls swarming around them told a different story. Even dead, you still cringed when the corpses were brought aboard. You internally thanked Cutler for burying yours as each body was pushed back into the water, sinking slowly to the great depths below.

          A small smile played on your husband’s face. “A breadcrumb trail. And we’re meant to follow.”

          The lieutenant behind him watched the water warily. “A betrayer among them, or a trap?”

          “A gambit. By a skilled opponent.” Cutler watched the horizon. “Adjust course, lieutenant.”

          “Sir?”

          Beckett raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turned up, amused. “We can only hope to reach our destination before they run out of bodies.”

          The hours progressed, and you watched hollowly as bodies bobbed up against the ship, limply plopping into the water as they were cut from their barrels. Beckett was in his office, you knew, plotting his next move. It always was that way with him.

          A spluttering sound came from below, and you nearly screamed—not that you would have made any sound—to find a live boy tied to one of the barrels. You drifted down to examine him. His clothes were heavily water-clogged, and you suspected that he had tied himself to the barrel. It was a wonder the waves hadn’t yet pulled him below.

          There was a scuffle to get him aboard, and then he was standing, shakily, clinging to the rail, but rather determined looking. It took a moment for you to recognize him. Oh dear. He’s caused my husband quite a bit of trouble, you thought. I’m sure there’s more yet to come.

          There was. Much more.

          You knew Jones by the hollow step of his claw on the deck of the Endeavor. You hated that creature; you tried your best to stay out of his sight. You were somewhat afraid that he would find you, somehow, that he would take you away. His job was, after all, to ferry souls to the other side. Cutler was always partial to such tales.

          You stood at Cutler’s side, now, forcing yourself not to leave. I will not be afraid of that thing. I will not. Still, a chill ran down your spine as the doors were forced open and Jones shouldered his way into the room.

          “I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup,” he spat.

          “Apparently you can.”

          Jones stopped, turning to you. He looked at you then. Not through you, as Cutler had so many times, but actually at you, like he could see you.

          “What’s this?” he questioned, stepping closer.

          You laid a hand protectively on Cutler’s shoulder, drawing in a breath and trying to stand tall, no matter how much you wanted to flee the captain’s gaze.

          “Ah.”

          Beckett looked confused, as did Will. They stared at you without seeing you, squinting to understand what Jones saw. The attention was quickly taken off of you and put on Will as Jones turned to the boy. Jones’ eyes flicked to you during the ensuing conversation. He knew you were listening.

          You watched accords being made, and as Will produced an all too familiar compass from his pocket. You wanted to laugh. A magic compass, Davy Jones, and me, a ghost, all in the same room! It sounds the beginning of an awful joke.

          Jones finally turned his back to leave, but not before making one last remark. “And Lord Beckett,” the squid smiled unpleasantly, “congratulations on your beautiful wife.”

          Beckett whipped to one side, staring right at you with wide eyes. “She’s here?” There was so much hope in his face, hope that nobody could see but you.

          “She always has been,” Jones replied. “I don’t think she’s left you since she died. She, at least, understands what it is to be true.” You knew he spoke of Calypso.

          “Can you…” Beckett trailed off, but you could tell from his watering eyes what he wanted to ask. “Can you bring her back?”

          “Nothing can bring back the dead.”

          Tears welled at the corners of Cutler’s eyes. “Leave. I don’t wish to speak of it.”

          Jones did as he was bid, and you were left with your husband. He dragged a chair out from its place at the table, sinking into it. He ran his hands over his face, letting them rest over his mouth and nose. He almost looked as if he had himself under control. Then the tears slipped over his cheeks, leaving little red streaks over his face, and he rested his arms against the table, burying his face in his hands to sob.

          You ran your ghostly hands through his hair and over his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his back and pressing yourself against him. Someday, it won’t be like this. For either of us.

          Much ensued in the following days. To your surprise, the pirates had chosen to fight instead of flee, a shocking decision, given their predisposition to self-preservation. Your husband seemed unbothered. And why shouldn’t he be? We have the Dutchman on our side, and we even have Jack as a captive. You knew just how much that fact pleased your husband, given their history. You too would be glad to watch the scoundrel go.

          Still, something seemed…off, to you. You weren’t sure if Cutler could sense it. He always has been so confident in himself. You tried brushing it off, telling yourself it was nothing, but for some reason, the lingering feeling simply wouldn’t leave.

          “They’ve elected to fight,” Culter said to the empty room before him. “Finally.” He twirled a piece of eight between his fingers. “I don’t know, dear, if you can hear me,” he looked a little self-conscious, probably feeling ridiculous talking to someone he couldn’t see, “but know that even if things go wrong, I’ll be alright. I don’t want you worrying over me.”

          Has there been a day in my life—or beyond—when I haven’t?

          “I just hope that Jones will do his part. I’m afraid the creature still has feelings, and those feelings can easily cause him to blunder.”

          No. You wouldn’t think of it. Even if Jones did fail, the British armada could easily defeat the sorry gathering of pirates present.

          “Just know, if things go south, that I have loved you, every day since we were parted. There has not been a day when I haven’t thought of you.”

          His words did nothing to quell the horrible feeling in your gut. If he died, where would you both go? You knew, one day, that he would, but you didn’t want it to happen so soon. And no matter how much you hated being stuck a ghost, following him endlessly, never able to communicate with him, the idea that you might never see him again was worse. His death didn’t guarantee your reunion.

          He was fetched to watch the ensuing battle play out, and you could only follow. A wind had picked up, ripping through the rigging. Interesting, given the calm of the day, but the weather over the seas is not always predictable. As the Dutchman moved forward to meet the Pearl in battle, things only got worse.

          The rain first fell in a drizzle, but soon escalated to a full monsoon. You could see nothing; only the masts of the two ships were visible, occasionally highlighted by a crack of lightning. The waters churned, and you were reminded of all those awful Greek tales involving the Charybdis.

          Cutler muttered beside you, squinting into the maelstrom. Even he seemed unsettled by the quick change. No storm just pops up this quickly. Whatever magics those pirates are using, it won’t save them.

          It seemed to go on for hours. By the time the rain receded and the waves returned to lapping gently at the hulls of the ships, the Dutchman was nowhere in sight. Surely it’s lurking just beneath the waves, as it always does, you told yourself. It often sails beneath the water. But you knew, deep down, that something was terribly wrong.

          “It seems that Jones has failed us. If you want a job done, you must do it yourself, I suppose.” Cutler turned, giving the order to advance. You were unsure if the Endeavor could take the Pearl one-on-one, but given the fact that the Pearl had just suffered at the hands of Jones, your husband had a good chance.

          Cutler visibly relaxed when the Dutchman resurfaced. Thank god. I don’t want him to go into this alone. Why Cutler felt it was his personal responsibility to annihilate the Pearl confused you. It would have made more sense to send other members of the fleet out first. But Cutler wants to do this himself. He wants to see them all die firsthand.

          It was only as the ships began to change course that you felt your fear rising again. Your own worry was reflected in Cutler’s eyes. The Endeavor was set to sail right between the Pearl and the Dutchman…who weren’t firing at each other.

          You could only watch with mounting horror as you sailed between the two ships. You wanted nothing more than to force your husband to abandon ship, but there was nothing you could do. So you did only what you could; you walked with him, staying by his side as the Endeavor was bombarded.

          You only turned towards him as the flames surrounded you, knowing it was the last glimpse of him you’d ever see. For a brief moment, he looked back—at you, this time—and you knew he could see you, even for the shortest of instances. Then he was swallowed by flame, and you were gone, too, ghostly limbs drifting like ash on the winds.

~~~~~~~

          You next awoke on a boat. It was a little thing, a dinghy, really. There were others, too, drifting aimlessly around you. There was little you could see through the fog, but you knew that the boats continued on into eternity. This will be a boring way to spend eternity. Maybe I’ll pass by someone I know every few hundred years. The thought did little to help.

          The silence was interrupted by occasional shouts, though the words were lost in the swirling mists of the endlessly dark sea. Where am I, exactly? Is this purgatory? You caught glimpses of others; a red coat here, a white dress there. You could swear that you passed the former Governor Swann. Cutler killed you. I’m not particularly sorry about it, either. You were always a slightly ridiculous man.

          At some point, you closed your eyes, letting yourself fall away from your surroundings. Perhaps endless sleep wouldn’t be so bad.

          Something bumped into your boat. You opened your eyes, a little surprised. It was another boat. You glanced up at its occupant. It seemed doubtful that you would know who it was, given that you were in an endless sea of dead, and you had no idea how many time-periods these people came from. For all you knew, some of these dead could be hundreds of years old.

          You gasped. The man beside you stared back with wide eyes, and he had grabbed you boat, keeping you from drifting off.

          “Were you really there, the whole time?” Cutler asked.

          “Yes,” you breathed. You touched your throat. It had been so long since you’d been able to speak, you had almost forgotten what your own voice sounded like.

          “Even through all the things I’ve done?”

          “Why would I leave you?”

          “I’ve done awful things. I don’t even regret them. It’s hard to imagine that somebody would stick with me through it all.” His voice cracked, and you watched tears spill over his face. He hastily wiped them away with the back of a hand.

          “I love you. The rest of the world can burn, for all I care. You’ve always been what matters most to me.”

          A brief look of shock crossed your husband’s face, replaced by one of annoyance. “Whoever designed this afterlife is horrible at their job. It took us hours to find each other.” He stood, a little unsteady in his boat, and quickly stepped into yours. Seeing the confusion on your face, he grabbed your hand. “I’m never letting anything separate us ever again. Especially not some stupid little boats.”

          You laughed. “No, you wouldn’t.” The feeling of his hand in yours was the best feeling you’d had in years. I haven’t been able to touch him for so long. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

          He smiled softly, the first smile you’d seen on him in months. “I’d like that.”

          You both turned, watching the fog swirl around you, drifting together into the endless nothingness. But at least I have him again, and that’s all I ever wanted.  

[changingourdestiny]

Coronation Part 4: Too Good to be True...

Summary:

With the Vanguard now briefed on the Taken's new...change of management, it initially seems that things have taken a turn for the better. But an observation from Ikora reveals that things may be too good to be true.

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“Let me ensure I have heard this correctly.” Zavala glanced between Cayde and Rae who were awkwardly standing there, sharing nervous glances with each other as the Titan Vanguard continued, “You went on an unsanctioned mission to the Dreadnaught with the Drifter and Marcia – which was brought on by a ‘hunch’ she had – and left with Marcia becoming the new ruler of the Taken.” “Yep. That’s pretty much the gist of it.” Rae chuckled nervously. Zavala sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking, “Are any other Guardians aware of this situation?” “Nope.” Cayde replied, “We told Marcia to keep it on the downlow until we told you-” Cayde was interrupted by a knock on the meeting room door as a member of Dead Orbit entered, “Sorry to interrupt, Vanguard, but Arach Jalaal requested your presence at the Hanger. Something about a ‘Taken Conga Line’.” “Oh no.” Rae and Cayde said in unison as they rushed out of the room, followed by Ikora and Zavala. The Vanguard quickly arrived at the Hanger entrance where Jalaal was leaning against the entrance. “Jalaal, what’s going on?” Rae asked. “You may want to see for yourself, Vanguard Rae.” Jalaal motioned to the Hanger. Rae entered the Hangar and her face went pale as she muttered, “Oh Traveller, why?” A conga line of many different Taken – ranging from Dregs to Goblins – were parading through the Hangar with Marcia leading the dance party. Amanda was watching from her post with an expression of confusion and concern on her face. “What has this Tower become…?” Rae heard Saint say from his ship. Adam was standing a few feet away with his face in his hands as he slowly shook his head while muttering, “Why do the crazy things always happen to us…?” Cayde, Ikora and Zavala entered behind Rae and just stared at the sight in front of them. “I dunno whether to find this hilarious or downright weird.” Cayde whispered as he swore he saw a Thrall holding maracas in the conga line. Rae was snapped out of her shocked stupor when she saw Blaze at the caboose of the line. “Wh- Blaze! I told you to make sure Marcia kept this on the downlow! Why are you encouraging her?!” “I couldn’t help myself!” Blaze yelled back, “The power of Taken Conga compels me!” Upon hearing Blaze yell, Marcia took notice of the Vanguard standing in the Hangar. “Ah! You’re here!” Marcia exclaimed as she clapped her hands twice, “Alright, guys, fun’s over. Head back to the Dreadnaught and we’ll do some Gambit training later. Your Queen loves ya!” Marcia watched as the Taken disappeared before addressing the Vanguard, “Who knew Taken knew how to party, eh?” “You had one job: keep the whole Taken Queen thing quiet until we got it sorted out with Zavala and Ikora.” Rae exclaimed, “And you decide to parade the Taken throughout the entire Hangar?!” “Not just the Hangar. She was in the Courtyard and the Bazaar.” Jalaal added as he walked back to his post. Rae glared at Marcia. The rogue just shrugged, “I got bored! Besides, it’s not like we were doing any harm.” Rae looked closely at Marcia. She noticed that Marcia looked a little tired – like she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep or had been fighting a lot. “Are you okay? You seem tired.” Rae asked. “Nah, I’m good.” Marcia smirked, “Just partied a lil’ too hard. You missed out big time!” Rae sighed, “Just meet us in the meeting room. We need to discuss this new alliance with the Taken and the City.” “You the boss.” Marcia grinned as she walked out of the Hangar with Zavala, Cayde, Adam and Blaze. Rae went to follow them when she noticed Ikora was lost in thought, a look of concern on her face. “Ikora? Is something wrong?” Rae asked. “I’m not sure…” Ikora began, “Something doesn’t sit right with me about this whole ordeal.” “What do you mean? I thought you’d be happy about the Taken being on our side.” “It’s not that.” Ikora shook her head, “The Taken feed on Light. It’s how they survive. So if the Taken are now allied with Guardians – if they’re no longer seeking out Light – how are they surviving? What Light are they feeding off of?” “I’ll look into it.” Rae reassured. Ikora nodded as she left the Hangar, Rae trailing not far behind. ‘She’s right though…’ Rae thought to herself, ‘If the Taken aren’t feeding off the Light of Guardians, what Light are they feeding off of? Or worse… …whose?’ ——————————————————————— A few days later… The Tower library was quiet – as libraries should be – with the only sounds being the odd page turning and the footsteps of Warlocks as they browsed the shelves. Rae and Ikora sat at a table, surrounded by books on the Taken and Oryx. “Anything…?” Rae whispered. “Nothing.” Ikora sighed. “Well this is frustrating.” Rae closed the book she was reading and placed it in a pile, “Hmm…maybe it’s a Paragon thing? I mean, Marcia said it was Paragon that called her to the Dreadnaught and gave her the power to Take.” “Maybe…it’s hard to say for sure since.” Ikora replied, “After all, there’s no written sources of Paragon or her descendant tribes.” “Psst! Hey, Rae! Over here!” Rae looked over to the library entrance where Blaze was waving her over with Adam beside her. “I never thought I’d see a Hunter in a library.” Ikora gave a small smirk. Rae gave a quiet chuckle before excusing herself and heading over to her teammates. “What’s up?” Rae asked as they exited the library. “Alright, just to be clear, I don’t really care about what Marcia does in her spare time. She can do whatever she wants.” Blaze began as her expression turned to worry, “But something isn’t right with her.” “What do you mean?” Rae asked as Adam spoke up, “Marcia’s been…off. She hasn’t been in Gambit and some days she doesn’t even leave the Dreadnaught.” “Drifter’s been worried about her too.” Blaze added, “He’s been up to the Dreadnaught to check on her and he says she looks more and more tired each time he sees her.” “That’s not like her…” Rae muttered, “She’s always quite energetic. The only times I’ve ever seen her tired is…” Rae cut herself off as her confused expression slowly turned to one of realisation and fear, “Oh no…no, no, no…” “What? What’s wrong?” Blaze asked, a trace of panic in her voice. “Ikora said the Taken feed on Light to survive. I thought maybe their being kept alive by Paragon or something, but I don’t think that’s it anymore…” Rae glanced between Blaze and Adam with fear in her eyes, “They’re not feeding off Paragon’s Light…they’re feeding off Marcia’s.” Adam and Blaze looked at each other with horror as Rae continued, “We need to tell Marcia. If the Taken drain all of her Light, who knows what will happen!” Blaze and Adam nodded in agreement before following Rae to the Hangar. ——————————————————————— “Marcia! Traveller, why is this ship so damn big?” Rae cursed under her breath as she called out, “Marcia, where are you?” Blaze and Adam followed Rae through the Dreadnaught. Blaze spotted a Taken Wizard float by and whistled to get its attention, “Hey, uh, do you know where Mar- er, Queen Marcia is?” The Taken Wizard just pointed to a hallway that lead to the Hall of Souls. “Thanks!” Blaze gave a thumbs up as she, Rae and Adam made their way through the hallway. They arrived at the altar where Marcia was sleeping against the portal frame that once lead to Oryx’s throne world, snoring lightly. “Marcia!” Rae shook Marcia awake, “Hey! Wake up!” “Huh- wha- yep! I’m awake!” Marcia jolted awake as she rubbed her eyes and sat up straight. Rae was able to get a better look at Marcia now. She looked even worse than Blaze did after her time in the Tangled Shore. She had bags under her eyes, her skin was pale and her Paragonialan markings, which only a few of them were corrupted, were now nearly all a sickly tealish colour. “Paragon above, Marcia, you look awful!” Rae gasped. “Gee, thanks.” Marcia replied sarcastically, “Every girl wants to hear THAT first thing in the morning.” “It’s noon.” Blaze corrected. “Is it?” Marcia seemed surprised, “Huh…guess I’ve slept in.” “Yeah! For the 5th time this week!” Blaze added. “And we think we’ve figured out why.” Rae finished, “Marcia, the Taken feed off Light to survive. I think they’ve been feeding off yours!” “What?” Marcia raised an eyebrow, still half-asleep, “Nah, nah. Paragon…Paragon wouldn’t give me this power if it’d put me in danger…right?” “Marcia, look at yourself. You’ve been getting weaker every day.” Rae began, “If this is affecting you this badly, you need to talk to Paragon.” Marcia seemed to think for a moment before giving a tired sigh, “Alright…alright…head back to the Tower. I’ll talk to Paragon and send word when I’ve gotten this mess sorted out.” “Okay.” Rae nodded as the trio of Guardians went to leave. “And Marcia?” Rae began as she turned back to her before leaving, “Please be careful.” “I got it.” Marcia nodded. Rae left with her Fireteam as Marcia stood up and gave a frustrated sigh before calling out, “Paragon! I know you can hear me!” The Taken dome from before appeared around her. There was a flash of light as Paragon appeared before her. “I think I know what this is about…” Paragon sighed. Marcia gave her a tired glare. “We need to talk.” To Be Continued...

[ludi-ling]

(Just a little Valentine’s day Romy fanfic with accompanying fanart done during my commute today. Happy Valentine’s!

PS: It’s set after the current Rogue & Gambit miniseries. Even if I don’t know what the hell is gonna happen in it XD).

***Valentine’s Day***

She didn't often take time out.

There was always something occupying her, teaching or superheroing or mentoring or shopping or organising or hanging out with friends... Training and sparring and conferring with teammates over strategy, policy, PR and legal issues… And then tied up with that was study, keeping up with case law, preparing the classes she'd taken, marking assignments and doing student benchmarking...

Really. It'd been a long, long time since she'd had some downtime, since she'd found a moment to wind down. Honestly, she was wound up so tight these days, she was beginning to fear she was on the verge of losing it.

"Take some time off," Kitty had said to her. "Go on vacation."

And she'd scoffed and said:

"But I'm needed here."

"Rogue," Kitty had said in that headmistress voice she was becoming so accomplished at using, "you're no good to us on the verge of a mental breakdown. You need some time to relax, to reset yourself. When was the last time you took a holiday?"

She'd stared blankly at the wall. For the life of her she couldn't remember. 

"See?" Kitty had piped up pointedly. "Look. Take a break. Go somewhere nice. Somewhere you can relax. Bermuda. The Seychelles.  I went to Lisbon last summer. It was gorgeous. And everyone speaks awesome English. You'll love it!"

She'd frowned. Somehow she didn't feel she was allowed to relax. How messed up was that?

"I dunno, Kit-Kat..."

"Rogue," came the severe reply, "Go. That's an order."

"Oh yeah? Or what?"

"Or I tell Gambit you need some time off, and get him to book you both on a dirty weekend away."

Well, that had sealed the deal.  She stomped off in a huff, and once she’d got back to her room, she booked herself some holiday.  Three days – not too long, but enough to keep Kitty from making good on her threat.

A few days later and here she was.

Valle Soleada, standing in front of the house Irene had left her.

It was a long time since she'd been here. She'd half considered selling it, or renting it out, but for some reason she never had. Standing here, on this lazy California beach with the sun pounding down on her, she was reminded why. There were few places she'd truly felt at ease, at peace. Some of the happiest moments of her life had taken place here, moments that now seemed so bittersweet. It was that bittersweetness that had made her reluctant to return, that had kept her away so long. But now... She was glad she was back. She felt liberated, free from all the cares and responsibilities that came with all the superheroics that were her business.

She gave a little smile to herself and walked the wooden steps up to the veranda. She felt in the pocket of her denim cut-offs for the keys and unlocked the door. When she stopped inside the vestibule she was surprised at how fresh and inviting everything seemed. She paid a maid to come and take care of the place every week, just to keep it in a liveable condition, with the intention of spending more time here than she actually did. She didn't regret the decision now.

She dumped her bags in the hallway and immediately went straight out the back door and onto the beach. A warm sea breeze hit her, the sound of the waves washing over the shore a glorious soundtrack that she realised she'd missed. How many times had that sound lulled her to sleep at night as she'd lain in the warmth of his embrace?

She half frowned, half smiled. The memories were pleasant yet... irritating. Irritating because they were so damn perfect, and she'd been stupid enough to let perfection go.

Things change, gal, she told herself sternly. But some things didn't, and trying to make sense of the stew left behind was something she'd never been particularly good at.

She gave a sigh and headed back indoors. She was wondering now whether she could brave heading into certain areas of the house, but she figured she was a big girl and if she didn't face this now she never would.

So she picked up her bags and climbed the stairs up to the bedroom, and gently opened the door.

She'd slept in here once since they'd left. She'd taken some time out after the whole Legacy thing, trying to re-orientate herself. After one night she'd moved to one of the guest bedrooms, finding the ghost of his presence a distraction from the purpose of her visit. It hadn't changed much since then. The maid did a great job keeping everything dust and dirt free. A light fragrance filled the air and she realised her housekeeper had left a cute little bowl of pot pourri on the dresser. She laid her bags down on the bed and peered into the closet. Her leathers were still hanging up in there, and she gave a wry grimace. Somehow, it felt like a different person had worn them.

She wasn't sure where his old X-Treme uniform was. She'd definitely seen him wearing the boxing boots once or twice since, but the rest...

She shook her head and closed the closet, moving on.

The curtains were closed and so she went on over and opened them up, throwing the window open too while she was at it. The room was suddenly filled with light and air and the scent of the sea, and she breathed it in with relish.

That was when she heard a sound. Floorboards creaking down the corridor.

Her senses were immediately alert, and she crossed the room back to the door, the adrenaline kicking in, her muscles getting ready for a fight. The footsteps were suddenly right outside the door, and she was just about to yank it open when it swung right open and slammed into the wall with a bang.

She gaped.

In the doorway was Remy LeBeau.

"R-Remy?!" she exclaimed ; and she might've believed this was all just a dream until he cried in exactly the same tone of voice:

"Rogue!"

"I thought you were in intruder!" they both said at the same time, which shut them up for a few seconds.

She glared at him. Standing there in sweatpants and a T-shirt with bleary eyes and a bedhead. It was clear she'd literally just woken him up.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him testily, cross that he'd spoiled her vacation yet again.

"On vacation," he answered in an equally sour tone - he was probably thinking the exact same thing.

"So am I," she huffed. "And this is my house."

"So?" he grumbled. "I got here first. Got everything unpacked and I stocked up the fridge and all. So I ain't goin' nowhere, if that's what you're suggestin'."

She growled. There was no way in hell she was leaving now, not for his benefit.

"Fine," she said. "Just... Just don't ... Get in my way. Okay?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh right. I'm the one should be sayin' that to you, chere. You're the one goin' round makin' noise and spoilin' my beauty sleep."

"It ain't my fault you're such a light sleeper!" she groused. "I could drop a pin and you'd hear it! Remember that time when--"

She quickly caught herself mid-sentence. He saw the look and smirked.

"No need t' say it, petite. I know what you're thinkin'."

She blushed. The only things to come out of that little incident had been the discovery that Gambit could not be handcuffed to a bed without being woken up (one accidental little jangle of the chain had had him sitting bolt upright in a flash), and a couple of days worth staggering around because all sorts of unmentionable muscles were unbearably sore.

"Look," she began, chastened out of her bad mood by the memory. "Truth is, I came here to unwind, to have a little space to myself for a couple of days. I was kind of expectin' to be on my own... But I ain't gonna throw you out on your ear, Cajun, and it's nothin' personal. Just... lemme have my own space and we're good. Okay?"

With him, honesty was always pretty much the best policy - ironic, considering the trouble he had with it himself. He put up his hands with an agreeable little smile.

"A'right. I'll keep outta your hair, if that's what you want.  Don't wanna get in the way of your 'me time'."

He backed off slowly, but the smile on his face told her he wasn't being sarcastic. After the turmoil and angst their relationship seemed to have been in recently, it was a welcome relief.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"No problem." He half turned to leave, before adding with a pointed look at her: "Yah need anythin', I'm in the guest room down the hall.  Where Sam used t'stay."

And with that he left.

-oOo-

After that it was useless to have any ‘me time’.  Not because she found his presence off-putting per se, but because she was trying to analyse everything.

She wondered why he was sleeping in Sam’s old room and why he was even here at all. She wondered why seeing him here had rattled her so much and why she’d been so defensive.  Since their time in Paraiso things had been… good between them. The last thing she’d wanted to do was spoil that.

It was just that he had endless ways of catching her unawares, of getting up under her skin without even meaning to.

Truly, she’d come here to be by herself.  But she felt guilty now for insinuating that him being here offended her.  She didn’t want him to think that, because it wasn’t what she felt.  The past few weeks things had changed between them, for the better… And she didn’t want to lose that.  It just felt… weird… not to be slapping away his affection at every corner because of her own fears, her own inadequacies, and really… He hadn’t even offered any affection.  Even if she secretly knew that he was always offering it, with a simple glance or a smile.

Besides, she couldn’t stay cooped up in here like this, not in their old room.  It was only bound to make things worse.

So she sighed and left, headed out and down the corridor to the guest room.  She gave a knock and when she heard his “come in!”, she entered.

She was surprised to see he was packing.

“You’re leavin’?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look put out by it, contrary to expectation. “Figured it’d be best.  You’re here for some space, and I’d just get in the way.” He folded up a shirt and put it inside his duffel bag before standing straight and glancing at her. “Don’t look at me like that, chere. I ain’t angry ‘bout it.  Just don’t wanna mess up your vacation.  Or mine, neither.”

That stunned her.

“You think we’d mess up each other’s vacations?” She couldn’t help looking a little hurt at that. “Remy, honestly… You don’t haveta go.  I’m sorry I sounded so… pissed off back there.  I didn’t mean it.”

He regarded her a moment, apparently turning her suggestion over in her head.

“Rogue,” he finally spoke with sincerity. “We can both kid ourselves that you and I are gonna stay in this house and not disturb one another, but seriously.  You and I both know that ain’t gonna happen.”

She chewed on her lip.  After what happened in Paraiso, he was probably right.  The only thing was, she didn’t think she’d mind so much anymore.

“Well, where’re you gonna stay then?” she asked him.

“Oh, Paint and Jack’ll let me sleep on their couch, if I promise to babysit their kids.” He paused and glanced at her. “You remember Paint and Jack, right?”

This time she was really offended.          

“Of course I do!” She pouted. “Yah mean you’re still in touch with them?”

“Well, yeah. I pay ‘em both a visit every time I’m down here.  They always ask after you.  Keep on goin’ on about seein’ you on the TV wit’ your Avenging friends. I tell ‘em you’re doin’ great. Although most of the time, I don’t really know.”

There was a little bit of bitterness in that statement, but in truth she’d barely heard it. Something else he’d said had caught her attention.

“Wait… … You said ‘every time you visit’… … How often do you actually come down here?”

He shrugged, going back to his packing.

“Once every couple of months…  For the same reason you’re here.  To get some time out.  To be alone. To get a little perspective.  To remember.”

The last was lightly delivered, but said a lot more than any of the other stuff. She swallowed a breath.  She was both touched and humbled to hear him admit that he came here often, and that a part of him came to remember what they’d shared here.  She was affected even more so that he’d maintained a life here, kept their old friends and probably hung out at their old haunts.  It made her feel like she’d run away from just another good thing in her life, like she’d thrown away yet another something that could and should have made her happy.

“Okay,” she finally said in a small voice. “Well, I’ll feel better knowing you’ll be stayin’ with friends… I don’t wanna turf ya out…”

“Rogue,” he spoke firmly. “It’s fine.  Don’t worry. Take some time out, relax.  God knows you need it.  Just promise me you won’t do no work, okay?  I jes’ know you brought those kids’ assignments wit’ you.  If you take ‘em out, I’m gonna steal ‘em and hide ‘em somewhere you can’t find ‘em.”

He’d said it to make her laugh, but all she could manage was a faint smile.

“I won’t, Remy.  Promise.”

Her ears were starting to rush and her heart was starting to pound, and it was becoming way too much for her to process, so she left.

-oOo-

She stood at the window of her room, their room, and struggled with herself.

Why had she walked away?  Why couldn’t she be brave enough to open herself up to him and let him in?  Still, after all this time and all the ground they’d recently covered?  

You love him, she told herself helplessly. So go back and tell him.  Tell him you don’t want him to go.

The thought had her trembling, had her stomach in knots.  She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed.  She tried to talk herself into the thing she wanted most in the world. How hard can it be to reach for the thing that you want?

She’d almost psyched herself up to just go and do it when he got there before her.  The door to their room opened softly, and quietly he crossed the floorboards and came up behind her.  There was nothing so sweet or so comforting as the way his arms wrapped round her, the way he held her tight, the way he pressed his face into her hair.

And suddenly it was all bleeding out of her, the tightly coiled knot inside her was unwinding, and she was herself again, even if only for just a moment.

“D’you really want me to go?” he asked her, and she leaned back into him, shook her head.

“No.”

And they stayed just like that for a while, watching the seagulls circling the sky and listening to the lullaby of the sea, just as they’d always done.

“You do know what day today is, chere?” he murmured, brushing his lips in her hair. For a second she was nonplussed, until she remembered.  February 14th.

“Aw, geez,” she muttered humorously. “Fate sure has a way of kickin’ me in the ass.”

“I dunno,” he chuckled. “I think fate brought us here, together, on this very special day, for a reason.” He propped his head on her shoulder. “Y’wanna work out what that reason might be?”

She twisted her head and gave him an arch look.

“Neither of us needs a reason, sugah,” she bantered back. “Except that I love you; and I’m pretty sure you love me.”

“Amen to that, p’tite,” he grinned; and they both laughed lightly before sharing the first of many kisses that night.

-END-

[theprattlp]

I do some fan-fac short stories from time to time. Wrote this a LONG WHILE ago to address something that before the #Rogue & #Gambit mini had not even been brought up before. References stuff from the last arc of Chris Claremont’s X-Treme X-Men. In it, Gambit and Storm made out. It was random and pretty provocative and came out of left field. All the times that several years after that Rogue had gained control of her powers and began borrowing abilities from those around her on a regular basis. What if after one of these instances accidentally took too much from #Storm and got whiff of that kiss? Let me know what you think.

TOTAL RECALL

It’d been weeks since she’d spent more than a few hours at the mansion. Being an Avenger had taken over her life so much, it barely felt like home anymore. She’d been aimlessly wandering the halls for hours. Rogue wasn’t lost, per say, she was trying to make sense of some images in her mind. Not too long ago she was forced to absorb Storm’s powers, but the situation was so frantic she didn’t have the presence of mind to not take anything else. Something, other than the Weather Witch’s powers, had come along for the ride. A single memory of her closest friend and debatably the love of her life, passionately kissing by a waterfall while said friend lacked any bit of clothing. It didn’t compute to her. There wasn’t a timeframe in which she could place it happening that she and Remy or Ororo and T’Challa weren’t together in some fashion or another.

 Lost in thought, she snapped back to her senses in time to see she was about to cross paths with Gambit in the hallway. Every fiber of her being wanted to corner him and drag the truth out. But she hesitated. They’d barely spoken in weeks and he’d been so involved in his own world it felt out of place to go at him in a hostile manner over something that could have happened years ago… or last week. Besides, she thought, he’d probably charm and snake his way out of it, probably calm me down in the process. She didn’t want that. Rogue wanted to preserve the rawness of it all. This first had to be between Storm and herself before anyone else, even Gambit. It was late though and she thought it best to address it come the morning. So she decided to get a quick bite and then hit the sheets.

 As she turned the corner into the mansion’s obnoxiously large kitchen she quickly realized fate had other plans of how she’d spend the remainder of her evening. Storm sat alone at the breakfast nook’s table nursing a cup of tea. The beautiful Nubian X-Man ran her hand through her wild, white, Mohawk and nonchalantly turned toward the kitchen’s threshold as Rogue sauntered in.

 “Good evening, child…” Storm sang in the calming way she’s known for.

 “Ro…” Rogue responded almost curtly. She couldn’t believe how hard it was to be angry at Storm, but she still found herself sizing the woman up.

 “I see you are having as much difficulty finding sleep as I am” she assumed, as she casually crossed her legs. She then pulled the string of a soggy tea bag from her cup and laid it on a small saucer that rested underneath.

 “Ah guess so…” Rogue walked across the room and sat in the nook’s window seat and starred out of the window into the night sky.

 Storm knew her friend all too well and had become accustomed to picking up on Rogue’s mannerisms when something was bothering her. Her body language was stiff, but the fact that she chose to sit away from her and avoid eye contact threw her for a loop. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear they weren’t talking to one another.

 “Is something bothering you, Anna?” Storm asked cautiously, just slightly cocking her head to the side as she studied her fellow X-Man.

 For the second time that night, Rogue hesitated. She wanted to get right down to it, but in a way, she also didn’t want to know.

 “If ah’ asked yah a question…” Rogue paused. “Even it’s crazy, or perhaps none of mah business… would yah answer me straight, Storm?” Rogue turned and looked her friend straight in the eye.

 Storm immediately felt her guard go up. She didn’t do it consciously, but she definitely felt backed into a corner, and this was just a lead in question. She figured it was of a personal nature, perhaps about her divorce from ‘Challa, or goddess forbid, having to do with Rogue’s “Ex”, Magneto. Reluctantly, Storm took a long silent breath and smiled. “If it would help put whatever is bothering so to rest… yes, Rogue, I would… I will”

 Rogue almost regretted hearing those truthful, painfully sincere words. She swallowed and hugged herself in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Not since she’d been in control of her powers. She felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn just slightly as her resolve began to crumble, but before that happened she thought it best to spit it out.

 “A couple days ago, when ah’ absorbed yah powers… Ro’ ah’ took something else with them.  A memory, maybe a dream, Ah don’t know how old it is but...”

 Storm involuntarily raised a single brow. She couldn’t think of anything that could disturb Rogue like she was seeing. She wasn’t the saint most people make her out to be, she knew that, but there were only a few issues that could shake a woman that had fought and beaten gods.

 “Ah-Ah took a really vivid image of yah and Remy… kissing”

 And that was one of those issues.

If it were a button, it was a big red one that had the words “DO NOT PUSH” printed in bold letters across it. What made it all the worse was she knew exactly what kiss she was referring to. She and Remy had kissed plenty of times in the past but that was one that if they weren’t interrupted, may have turned into something more, perhaps much more. Her feelings for Remy weren’t inherently sexual or wholly romantic. It was a relationship of familiarity. She felt as comfortable kissing him as she would her husband, but Storm held him in the esteem of her most trusted confidant. Their relationship was platonic, but always held a spark of ‘what if ‘ within it.

 Storm’s posture changed from concerned to flattened to ashamed in a matter of seconds. The back of her neck was burning and her throat had all but dried. She unconsciously took a sip of her tea, almost afraid to break eye contact with the other young woman. “Anna…”

 “Ah mean really kissing… kissing yah, like he’d kiss me.” Rogue continued, almost mechanically. “Yah was near a waterfall, ah think?”

She wasn’t a fool by any measure. Rogue noticed the shift in Storm’s demeanor and through that knew what she was saying held some kind of validity. This made her a bit more desperate, and oddly enough wanted to deal with it even less. What if more happened? What if it just wasn’t a kiss? The sheer idea of it horrified and terrified both at the same time. “Can ya, help me understand it, Ro’… this was before me and him, right? Ah’m overreacting, aren’t ah?”

 Storm looked downright sheepish. She knew how to lie, but how do you mislead someone that you knew, knew the truth and even had proof. Even worse, she owned it. If they shared the same memory, then Rogue had seen the whole thing through a first-person view, her view no less. No. She wasn’t going to lie to her friend.

 “Rogue… it was not- it did not mean anything”

 “Yah were naked…” Rogue leaned forward with her hands placed on her knees for support as she looked at Storm with suspiciously narrowed green eyes. “Ya were naked as a wet bullfrog on a log in the middle of summer, sugah… and as for it not meanin’ nothin’ for yah, ah’m rememberin’ a whole lottah emotion from yah but indifference wasn’ once of em’, hun. Concern? Maybe” she leaned back with her arms crossed across her chest. “But more excitement, enough to override any unease, at least.”

 Storm had recovered from the initial shock of it all while Rogue spoke. She had the time to regroup her emotions and she found that she wasn’t in the mood to explain herself to Rogue on the matter of Remy, especially with the track record she’d had with him as of late.

 “Rogue, I apologize for it happening, but it was some time ago.” Storm began as she moved her eyes up to meet her friend’s own. “However, I do wholeheartedly regret it happened while the two of you were still together…”

 “While we were together?!” Rogue exclaimed.  “Just when do-… yah mean when me an’ Remy had lost our powers an’ the two of yah met up while he was away?” Rogue started putting the pieces together. Mostly due to the nature of her powers and the way they worked in terms of recalling foreign memories. The more Storm spoke, the clearer the memory got for her. Rogue closed her eyes and grasped her head. More and more of the moment began to flood into the forefront of her mind.

 Concerned, Storm stood up and stepped toward Rogue placing her hands on her shoulders “My friend, do not torture yourself with-”

 “Shut up!” Rogue snapped, pushing Storm away. A long time ago, that same reaction would have put Storm through a wall and in the ICU for weeks, if not killed her outright. “Ya betrayed me! Ah- Ah know how ya felt when ya kissed’em, don’t try n’dance around it, Storm”

 Storm kept her composure and her distance from Rogue. She understood that Rogue had grown and matured since her younger years, but she also knew her well enough to realize that this could escalate into more than a war of words if not handled cautiously.

 “I betrayed you? Child, not to sound insensitive-… no, I will if it is necessary.” Storm took a step forward and calmly crossed her arms in front of her. “You aren’t the impertinent child I once knew. It’s far past time someone spoke to you without fear of hurting your feelings”

 “About what exactly?” Rogue asked with a sarcastic smirk and matched her friend’s demeanor.

 “Magneto.” Storm spat. “I did not think that would be much of a surprise, to be honest.” Storm took another step forward.

 “What are yah- No! That’s none of ya damn business, Storm!” Rogue shouted and stood. She then cautiously scanned the room. She didn’t realize how loud her voice had gotten. The last thing she wanted was to have her personal life become ‘the talk of the town’, again. “Mah personal life, is mine, yah got that?”

 “Not when that personal life includes one of our oldest, tried and truest foes, child.” Storm curtly retorted, emphasizing on the word ‘child’. “I understand why he was on Utopia with us. We needed his might, his name. But I cannot for the life of me comprehend why you chose to be with him. Did you ever stop to think what that would mean to us, to the X-Men, or for that matter, to Remy?”

 The mention of his name made Rogue break eye contact with Storm.  Out of all the reasons she named, that was the only one that held real weight with her. Of course, she thought about Remy and but she rationalized that away with the need to think about what her heart wanted… or was it more what Legacy wanted? “And what does it matter any? Erik and ah’ are over, Storm... Don’t try tah change the subject!”

  “And what is the subject exactly, Rogue?” Storm asked with an arched brow, shifting her weight onto her heels. “Your precious feelings?”

 “Feelings? An’ what exactly do you know about feelings as o’late, Ro? You've been colder than Bobby since you and T’Challa separated…” Rogue snarled. “But since you ask me about Remy, let me ask you a question … Since he came back to the X-Men, have you once talked to him about what happened with Apocalypse? Or were you too busy running around ya’ palace, and ruling ya’ country with your king?”

 That stung. She hadn’t spoken her ex-husband’s name aloud to many people since the annulment. Storm looked past Rogue into the darkened heavens and then with an uncharacteristically malicious smirk she responded;

“My marriage was probably as distracting for myself as much as the view of Magneto’s room's ceiling was for you…”

 Rogue didn’t expect something so coarse from Storm. But nothing as of late had been overly typical of Storm’s behavior. She had a bitterness to her that Rogue had never seen in her before. But truth be told, Rogue didn’t mind going tit for tat.

“Ouch, Stormy. Didn’t think ya had it in yah…” Rogue said with an exaggerated ‘hurt’ facial expression and her right hand faintly land upon her chest “Did Logan teach you that during pillow-talk, or was he too busy-” Rogue’s comeback was interrupted by Storm’s fist striking her jaw.

 The young woman stumbled back against the wall paneling that separated the breakfast nook window another large pane of glass and slide down it, stunned. Rogue was genuinely surprised. She’s heard villains, racists, bigots and everything in between say and do far worse without her losing her composure. In a way, it made the strike hurt even more… but not so much as to let it go unanswered.

 Rogue blinked looking up at the Amazon. Storm’s eyes were on fire and at the same time in pain. Rogue swallowed and wiped a tiny trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Then all in one motion she sneered, turned onto her side and swept Storm clean off of her feet. She fell to kitchen’s warm wood paneled floor with a “thud”. Before Storm could gather herself, Rogue had scrambled back onto her feet and dove onto her teammate. Once she pinned Storm’s left arm down with her leg, Rogue delivered solid blow across her once perfectly smooth cheek.

 A flash of blood and saliva escaped Storm’s mouth as her head snapped to the right. Years of combat training allowed the weather-witch to respond near instinctively. With her free arm, she pushed Rogue back and then contorted her body enough to reach forward with both of her legs and wrapped them around Rogue’s head. Then like a rubber band, slung the younger woman backward and off of her. By time Rogue had been able to look up, Storm was already in an all-fours crouch, a manner that reminded her of the Black Panther. With speed Rogue could compare the same to, Storm landed a stiff kick across her teammate’s face sending her careening into the table where she once sat.

 With a loud crash, the table flipped over sending everything upon it into the adjacent wall and shelving. Rogue lay shaken amongst the rubble of broken wood for quick a moment, then launched her into the air with a roar. Storm matched her howl as they collided and fell to the ground once more, both with hands firmly clasped around the other’s throat. They exchanged wide-eyed, enraged glares with one another just before either realized what they were doing. At that moment, both women seemed to experience an epiphany. Grips loosened. Breathing resumed. Tension plummeted.

 “WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!” The outraged shriek of Kitty Pryde echoed throughout the room. The combatants broke their gaze on each other to notice Kitty, half their teammates, and even several of the students were standing awestruck in the kitchen doorway, among them, the topic of the night, Gambit, who was as confused as anyone.

 “Wouldn’t we get detention for this?” Quentin Quire rhetorically questioned. “The hypocrisy…”

 The two women then looked at one another again and then broke out in hearty laughter that frightened and confused the crowd even more. They helped each other up, shared a long hug and strolled out of the kitchen together arm in arm. Rogue broke her laughter long enough to glare at Gambit just for a second as she bumped past him. The stare was long enough and the bump hard enough for Wolverine, who was amongst the gathering, to pick up on. He jabbed Gambit in the ribs with his elbow.

 “What the hell did you do this time, Cajun?” Logan probed. Gambit, however, responded with a simple shrug.

“Dunno…”

  *The story references happenings of X-Treme X-Men.

[putris-et-mulier]

Deadpool & Rogue are going to be the next "it" couple

Since the beginning of Uncanny Avengers people speculated that Deadpool and Rogue were going to fall in love and so far they've just become good friends but now is a pretty good opportunity to turn that into a romantic relationship.

I've never made it is secret that I love Rogue and that when she isn't with Gambit my heart is broken. Unless it's bad writing I'm okay with seeing them get together with other people because they have an open relationship and if anyone could do polyamory, they could.

So Uncanny Avengers begins and I'm very suspicious of Rogue being on a team with Deadpool because they didn't seem like a good combination. They can certainly relate, they have a lot of common trauma and similar issues but Deadpool relies on humor to deal with it and Rogue doesn't laugh much, she shoves all her pain down and uses it to fuel her determination while fighting on the front lines and she's always fighting on the front lines.

Another thing I wondered about was Rogue being the team leader. Rogue isn't exactly a leader. Storm is a natural leader, she can handle the burden of being a huge population's only hope, she can command an audience of militants, and there's just something about her that demands respect and loyalty. 

Rogue just really likes getting in and getting the job done, politics is not her thing.

And she works really well when someone like Storm is calling the shots

Awesome.

and Rogue hates the Avengers. She likes individuals that are and have been members but she was one of the very first mutants to ever fight them and she has lived through every one of their attempts to aid the genocide of mutants

but Deadpool is super excited!

Rogue and Deadpool have never really met but they have run into each other in passing so Rogue does what everyone does and judges Deadpool on his reputation. Meanwhile, she secretly has been poisoned with the Terrigen Mist so her body is slowly becoming deformed while she slowly dies from a terminal disease

That's something Deadpool has lots of experience with so you know from the get go that they are going to at least commiserate

Like I said, Rogue works well as a tank or free agent but she has hard time leading. On their very first mission everyone but Deadpool ignored her orders and went off to do their own thing.

Deadpool seems to be one of the few people who understood and cared that Rogue being leader or even on the Avengers at all came with a lot of subsequent dangers because of racism

Deadpool also isn't a natural leader, like Rogue he works best when you just tell him where to go and let him do his thing. But he's loyal and even though it seems impossible he is more upset about casual racism toward her than she is.

Cable shows up with bad news from the future as he is want to do and he is a leader, a leader both Rogue and Deadpool have worked with. He's also someone that Deadpool loves and respects immensely. Rogue isn't opposed to Cable taking over but before she entrusts him with her teammates lives she wants to know what his objectives are and surprisingly Deadpool agrees with her

It's no surprise that the team is a mess. Captain America stuck a bunch of people of different races together, some pulled from segregated communities, to sell diversity to the media but as always he doesn't exactly understand racism and the team fractures. Cable, Rogue, and Deadpool stick together and actually work behind Captain America's back (which is huge for Deadpool) to find a cure for this poison that was exterminating mutants and stop the Red Skull who had taken the deceased Charles Xavier's brain and was using it to take over the world.

Rogue and Deadpool are actually really good teammates, Deadpool even does things to remind Rogue of home and her family (the X-Men)

(that's a signature X-Men finishing move Colossus and Wolverine use when they are tag teaming)

they even make their own signature move

and they are badass

Rogue puts her faith in Deadpool that he will have her back but still remained wary because he was still Deadpool and she still has all of her baggage and trust issues but suddenly the whole world changes.

Everyone is human, can't remember ever being superheroes, and the world runs like a 50s sitcom. Everyone but Rogue is happy. She's never lived in a world where at least one person wasn't constantly trying to abuse or kill her so even though she doesn't know what's going on she's suspicious of peace

No one knows Rogue's real name so if someone isn't calling her Rogue they usually just call her a few names that sound like it fits and for some reason Rogue has always been fine with that but in this instance it's supposed to be weird

All the X-Men and the kids at their schools have extensive training in blocking psychic/telekinetic/mind control etc. so they can keep their privacy in all of the mutant compounds despite the fact that the biggest gossips are always psychic. Also so shit like this doesn't happen. Rogue arguably has the most training in this for someone who has no psychic powers and through her safeguards she makes herself remember everything and now she has to go find everyone else that is supposed to be on her/their team.

Luckily one of them, Johnny Storm, lives next door so she reminds him that he can control fire by lighting him on fire. Also, he thought his name was Chet

Rogue doesn't give a fuck

Everyone is rounded up pretty quickly and Rogue wakes people up her own way

(Ms. Marvel isn't on her team but she was bicycling by so Rogue snagged her)

No one knows where Deadpool is so Cable, and this is hilarious, has been on so many adventures with him he knows he just has to present an opportunity and Deadpool will appear so he calls 911 and Deadpool immediately shows up in a fire truck 

but he doesn't look like himself

Every time Deadpool gets changed into his ideal body he looks like a 70s porn*

So Wade Wilson lives in this pseudo-universe as a "handsome" able-bodied man who is everyone's hero, a firefighter. It's kind of extremely sad and Rogue takes special care with him, much to Johnny's chagrin

I think it's notable that Rogue just has to tell him something is going on and he immediately remembers who he is. Besides he and Rogue, it seems hard for everyone to accept that this picturesque life isn't real. The both of them grew up experiencing the worst of humanity (we don't really know about Rogue's childhood but she was raised into early adulthood by her mother's, so it still couldn't have been super easy considering they were all mutants and also a queer family in the 70s) they are both also very isolated in their own way, a peaceful happy world is so beyond their comprehension so it's artifice would be easy to deconstruct.

You don't see how Cable comes to but I'm pretty sure he immediately was like "not this shit again"

The current mutant genocide is getting worse and Captain America tries to use how much Deadpool admires and loves him to be his informant but Deadpool remained loyal to Rogue and Cable

Captain America wants them to trust the government to save their race to which they said "LOL" and he and Cable fight but Rogue gets fed up

Deadpool tries to explain to Captain America that he had no choice but to side with the X-Men because his daughter is a mutant and is going to die 

Deadpool takes the dressing down but Rogue defense him

They are both fired but they still stick together to discuss what they should do and Rogue suggest… Well, she suggests that they go rogue

Rogue isn't a great leader but she's really great at heading side missions or defecting to get the job done with the more hands-on approach. This is up Deadpool's alley so they take off for adventure.

And one protecting the other has become my fetish

We just recently got the conclusion of Rogue, Deadpool, and Cable's team up objective. The Red Skull is using Charles Xavier's brain to infiltrate everyone's brain 

and eventually he finds a way to break into to Rogue's mind while she sleeps

and they made a clubhouse with stuff they took from the Avengers

So finally the Red Skull has to be confronted for the final battle and it relies on Rogue and Deadpool. No one has the ability to infiltrate Deadpool's mind because his psyche is so shattered so he's immune and Rogue has training to protect her mind and is one of the few people who can actually take him down so they get to it and call in any support they can get

Cute highlights:

When the tide turns in the battle Rogue is overtaken by the powers of Charles Xavier's brain and the Red Skull has complete control over her, so he uses her as his personal weapon

God, I love her

Thankfully Deadpool is used to things failing so he had a plan. Rogue kills Deadpool as much as she can, the Red Skull gets overconfident and let's guard down, then Deadpool sticks an old helmet of Magneto's on Rogue's head. Seems like that should have been the first thing they should have done but Deadpool getting himself kill over and over got her close enough and in a position where she could take the Red Skull down while he was unaware

But Deadpool had intended to be the one to kill the Red Skull once Rogue incapacitated him but she had hurt him too much

Deadpool is worried that Rogue is going to take it upon herself to kill the red skull as much as she doesn't want any more blood on her hands but the guy has Charles Xavier's brain inside of him so she goes home and the X-Men play operation

That's it! That's their whole story so far. So, should they get together?

I'm biased but don't they make the best brOTP? I love their friendship so so much and it's great to see it slowly develop instead of the writers just miraculously having them get along because it's easier for the story.

Do I think they should date?

Hell yes I do.

It is nice to have genuine friendships in comic books, especially between people of different genders, but this is just too good. Because their friendship was such a slow build the sexual tension feels really organic and that's almost impossible to get in a medium like this. They haven't been friends forever and just because it was convenient they didn't suddenly hook up to further the plot. They are significant characters with significant back stories and the relationship doesn't contradict either of those things. They haven't been almost getting together and getting torn apart like you would have to sit through if story of the relationship was just about their romance.

I'm fine if they remain friends but (unpopular opinion) it would be an amazing relationship with a lot of potential between them; a lot of good and a lot of bad potential which makes the best stories. Unfortunately I don't think they will ever get this opportunity for a "slow build" in other books so how long it will remain interesting would depend on the writer. 

And the time schedule.

And whether you guys would buy those issues or not.

Let me know what you think. If you totally hate them together that's cool, I want to hear your perspective. What would you like to happen between them?

[gambitxlebeau]

Mona Lisa

By GambitXLeBeau Short Piece Based on Panic At The Disco's, Mona Lisa... A few weeks had passed since anyone had heard from the swamp rat last. No one knew what he had exactly been up to and he had left the X-Men team for a while now. Not even Jean had known where his son had ran off to and no thief could track down a location. That is until Rogue had left the cajun a message, "If yah still alive swamp rat, ah'd like yah to meet me at that restaurant where we first went. XOXO -Anna Marie." That was the reason a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle LS-6 pulled into the parking lot of a Chili's on the outskirts of New York City. He struck out the butt of his cigarette while stepping out of the vehicle. Passing eyes checking out himself and the car as he closes the door and looks longly around himself. He walks on the sidewalk and enters into the restaurant that two teenagers in love had once came to. The food was good as far as he could remember, but seeing her back turned to him, all he could think about was the pair of them drawing toons on their hands. Her curly hair still a beautiful mess and her body as slender and petite as any lover could remember. "Don' tell me ya already started drinkin' before moi." He teases as she calls his name, "Remy," and gives him a hug. He reads her over and studies her voice. The way she says his name. The way she seats herself at the table. The way she looks at him. He knows this trip will be quicker than expected and he can sense that both of them are testing the sins of the other. "Been a while since Gambit been able t'hear that sweet southern drawl." He smiles back at her and sits down across from her. Anna blushes and furrows her brows, "Oh shush up ya ol' swamp rat." Remy chuckles while she grins playfully. "How's life been treatin' ya from da insides, good?" He asks her in attempts to strike up a conversation. "Oh yah know me, Remy, Ah've always been tha survivin' kinda gal. What about yah, sugah? Everyone keeps sayin' yah ran off tha radar for a few days? What's all tha mess about that?" She asks him and he can tell the worry in her voice that she tries so hard to hide but only fails. "Been busy." He only replies. "Doin' what?" She asks and then tries to turn around and sound friendly, "If yah don't mind me askin'." He studies her for a moment and then orders a drink of sweet tea, the liquid plays with his tongue just as the two past lovers play with each others minds, and leans upwards to talk to her. "Jus' about tha future. Where we goin' an' how we gettin' there, ya know?" Anna nods and believes she knows what he talks of. It had only been so recent that she had finished her recovery and put forth an effort to try and salvage whatever she could with the man she had once loved. "Well, with tha new roster Ah'm sure ya could do some good as an Avenger. Ya not as bad as yah wanna believe, swamp rat. Why don' ya come an' spend time with me there? Ya always used ta talk of wantin' ta repay past sins-" She speaks but watches his mouth move to speak and cuts herself off. She feels as if he is hurting but cannot tell well enough due to his usual facade. She wants to help him and only believes that she cannot. For Remy's sins lie deeper under the skin than he believes she could ever tell. Far deeper than the massacre or the freezing tundra. Every word she speaks in that accent plays through his ears again and his heart tries to beat because that was where the innocence had fleed to. Where his demons could do nothing but die every time she opened her mouth. He felt comfortable and safe...at one time. A time when everything was simple and all he had to do was lick the strawberry off her lips from the ice cream. A time when he could feel her quiver underneath him and the sheets. "An' what if I asked ya to come help me an' join de X-Men team once more, Rogue? I t'ink dare we would feel mutual, hein?" He questions her and hurts her just a little in spirit. After all it was there that she was even qualified for her place among the Avengers. The X-Men would always be her home but, "Remy... Ah do more if ah stay with tha Avengers. Ah don' mind helpin' out every now an' then but the world is much bigger than we could had imagined, cajun. Ah'd hope if anyone could understand that than it'd be ya." She speaks in only words and he knows this. The world was never bigger than he could have imagined it to be. It was a lot smaller when you took out the fillers and got to the point. He knew she could never admit that she simply loved being an Avenger more than being an X-Man. Her entire life she had been dreaming for anything else than to be a mutant, drowning in the memories of others, and finally she could do more. Gambit was right in his accusations and for once he could not let her slip by. All he wanted at that moment was for her to admit that she was happy and he could benefit from it. He could feel better because he could sleep again knowing she was where she wanted to be. Nevertheless Anna Marie was like catching wildfire and nothing was ever close to the surface for her. His eyes just begged for the truth and his war between being himself and being her lover raged on. "Gambit understand, chér. Gambit understand a lotta t'ings. Ya do good, yea. I do good fer da X-Men. Jus' like you tho', Gambit got no place in da Avengers. What he do dare? Be closer ta you so ya can watch mah every move? Make sure I'm still alive in da mornin'? Is t'at it, hein?" He questions her with the honest truths and she is hurt but she is desperate. She wants this conversation to go another way. She wants him to believe her but she runs out of words to say too quickly. She wants to tell him everything he wants to hear but she knows he would never have the same passions as she did. "I'm a t'ief, girl. Ya know what mah line o' work is. Mah sins are all rite, cause I got family in da X-Men an' so do you. Jus' tell me where ya t'ink we could go? Ya called me fur a reason an' here I come. Why?" He asks her and she looks at the table. "Ya happy, Remy?" She asks and then looks back up at him, "Are ya really happy leadin' tha X-Men?" He wears thin and he can tell in her own eyes that she is as exhausted as himself. Neither of them expected any of this and each one has enough blame for how they tore each other apart. She only stayed because it made him happy and now she could tell as plain as day that, that was not the case anymore. "I don' know what I am 'nymore, Anna. Dis has all changed how I am an' who it is I wanna be. I learned not t'make future plans anymore cause dare ain' no tellin' what'll happen wit' today." He admits to her and she tilts her head in agreement. "Bein' an X-Man an' a thief is what I kno'. We are betta left not t'gether at t'e moment." Her lip trembles to hear him say those words but in her mind she knows more than her heart, "Ah'll agree with yah there, swamp rat..." He reaches out his hand like a comforting friend, "Maybe we'll learn ta get past this, chér. I'll learn ta love you again. For now we'll jus' keep in touch, yea?" She looks at her hand and then back at Remy with those southern emerald eyes, "Sure thing, Rem." Remy leaves enough money on the table to pay for her food, drinks and a tip before excusing himself from the booth. It is written that love sometimes fights to beat on if the pulse beats true. Remy contemplates this and the words of his father. He thinks of the girl he is still fighting to make things right with. Yet, he is lost in question, of whether his choice will be right or wrong. Questioning if whether if the right choice is being spoken by the wrong voice. If his life is becoming nothing short of static noise.

[omegabard]

Backstory of a Bard

The smell of bread coming up through the floorboards filled my nose. It was just the push I needed to get moving. I rolled to the edge of the bed and let my feet dangle. It was ok sleep for a free room. I rubbed my eyes and caught a glance of myself in the mirror.

“Good lord Persephone, you’ve got to stop going to sleep with wet hair,” I giggled at myself, “especially if it’s beer soaked.”

The previous night’s performance got a bit out of hand. It turned into everyone tossing beer at each other during my final number. I slide off the bed and put my trousers on. Slowly I glide my hand around the waistband, shoving my shirt into it as I go. My hot pink pants and pale pink shirt made me easy to spot in a crowd. I really enjoy the attention of being a performer.

I laced up my shoes, slung my lute across my chest, and put my rapier on my belt. “Lookin’ like it’s time to get a hair cut. Put that on the list of things to do.” I smirked, “I put it on the itinerary ma’am.” I shoot myself a wink in the mirror and head down stairs to the bar.

“Miss Melody!” The barkeeper yelled out as I came down the stairs. “ I trust you slept well after last night’s show! You really know how to make the folks forget their worries!” He smiled a big toothy grin causing his cheeks to almost force his eyes closed.

Mr Tugal was a dwarven man with a beard full of copper jewelry. His arms had scars that looked like goblins had dragged their claws across them. He always tells stories of his time as a rouge in the forest. If you were willing to listen to his tales, more often than not, you’d get something on the house. Tugal had heard me play once in another town, and since, has invited me to play many times.

“Of course I did!” I hollered out.

Then I leaped from a few stairs up and gracefully landed on the floor below, barely making a sound. I thrust my arms up to pose. I then take a bow. Only one other man was there aside from Tugal, so I got no applause.

“I trust you made quite a bit of money on refills too.” I giggled and pointed to the rats nest I was sporting as a hair do.

“Aye Miss Melody! Plenty enough to cover paying you and giving you breakfast on the house,” Tugel laughed and slid a plate of warm bread to me. “The baker just dropped this off at sunrise. I know how much you love it. I saved you some for tonight if you’ll come back for an encore.”

A smile was still painted across his face while he filled a mug with water and slid it down the bar. It stopped right next to my plate. I looked over at him, smiled, and gave a few nods of ‘I see what you did there’.

“I’ve no where to be for two days,” I paused then gave Tugal a wink, “for a room and the rest of this bread, I’ll put on a show for half my usual cost.”

He scratched his beard and shook his head, “I can’t be taking money out of yer wallet because you like me miss Melody.”

“Yeah. You see though, I insist. You keep inviting me to you bar, it’s the least I can offer,” I smile and get up to head to the door, “you can’t say no. I’ll just put it in your pocket when I leave.” I flashed a devilish look at him, “my hands are faster than the eyes of an old rogue you know.”

“WHY YOU,” he yelled from behind the bar as I slammed the door.

I walked the dirt roads of the town. The bread was releasing steam into the chilled, morning air. I was a bit late last night when I got to town. I only had time to run through the gate and straight to Tugal’s. This morning everyone seemed to be out. The baker and Fish monger were arguing over who did a more honest days work. A few kids were tossing stones at the well trying to see who could land one in. All in all, a fine spring’s day. I stopped a woman who had her hair cropped pretty high with short bangs. She was able to tell me a barber was located near the gate I came in. I thanked her with a silver coin.

I found the barber, his shop advertising the best service in town. It looked like a fairly new building. I honestly had never needed a hair cut on my prior visits here. I pushed the door open. A skinny man was sitting in a reclined chair. He seemed to be asleep. His arms were limp, nearly touching the floor. He was dressed in a white, billowy shirt. His pants and shoes looked very well kept.

“Uh. ‘cuse me buddy. Do you know if the barber is in?” I spoke softly as to not startle him.

The man looked over with his eyes barely open. He blinked a few times then they shot open.

“Oh a customer! So nice to see you! Yes yes! My name is Archibald. Come have a seat.” He scrabbled up and held out a hand beckoning me.

“Well at least you kept the seat warm for me,” I smirked and giggled.

He cackled, “Indeed I did. Now let’s get you taken care of.”

His produced his scissors out of thin air it seemed. Then a brush in the same manner.

I took my weapon and instrument off and took a seat.

As Archibald started combing out my knots he spoke softly, “I saw you came in with a lute. Are you the one behind the performance at the bar last night?”

I nodded, “Yep! Tugal really likes when I come to town.“

He narrowed his eyes, “just a bunch of racket that kept me up all night is what it was.”

I was a bit taken aback by his statement. It made me think twice about mentioning I’d be performing again tonight. We chatted about how I’d come to town a few times. The fact that I usually leave about this time. He seemed to have gotten over how much sleep I’d caused him to lose. Archibald was just about finished combing the last of the knots from my hair when he spoke again.

“It’ll be 25 gold for your hair cut today. You better be able to pay,” he stated bluntly as he set down the brush and picked his scissors up.

Shock must have rushed over my face. I felt a wind rush past me as I blinked. Archibald was nose to nose with me, his scissors next to my ear.

“You have it don’t you?” He hissed at me again. “You will need to pay up now!” His glare now very intense.

I nodded and shifted to grab my pouch from my belt. My heart sank. On my way out I’d forgotten to get it from Tugal’s safe.

“Of. Of course I do. I just need to run back to the bar and grab it,” I meekly whispered out. I could feel the blood draining from my face, “Tugal pays me well.”

‘What was the guy going to do to me? I did not mean to keep him up? Had I done something to him before?’ Thoughts were rushing through my head as I panicked. Then Archibald stood up, something cold ran across my throat. Then I felt the tip of his scissors on the side of my neck.

“You know since you like to please people you can do me a pleasure. I haven’t had a woman in years. How about you use that lovely throat of yours to please me,” He said softly as he was peering down his nose at me.

I could see him from the corner of my eye using his free hand to lower his pants. Then I felt his erect penis pressing against my cheek. ‘This wasn’t happening!’ I screamed in my head. I was shaking. He was going to force himself on me or kill me. I kept myself from yelling out. I didn’t want to open my mouth even a little. I could feel his gaze on me. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“Come on little miss. Treat me to a performance I’ll never forget,” he pressed his scissors into my neck as his spoke.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything I was panicking. ‘What do I do?’ Then he pressed the tip of his penis onto my lips. I push them together tightly to keep him from penetrating. ‘I can do something. I have to be able to.’ Blood was starting to trickle from the wound his scissors was creating.

“You kept me up all night. You come into my business with no money,” his eyes narrowed as he raised his voice. “You will open your mouth or I’ll make my own hole!”

My vision tunneled as tears started to run down my cheeks. I need to focus on a word. ‘Come on Persephone you can do this. When you open your mouth you get one word. Come on!’ I was trying to calm myself enough to pull off a final gambit. His penis pressed harder against my tightly closed lips. I took a deep breath trying to make eye contact with him through my tears. He wasn’t going to get pleasure from me and I sure as hell was not dying here. My hair changed to a bright pink to purple gradient and flowed through the air almost water like. I used my legs to push my mouth just above his penis and with every ounce of courage I had screamed the word at him.

“DANCE!” I screamed as my voice cracked from the stress.

The man looked confused. His eyes locking onto mine.

“Really? You open your mouth for that? Your dying word is dan...” Archibald was cut off mid sentence when his arm shot up and his legs slammed together. Within seconds he was dancing to a beat no one could here.

I collapsed into the barber chair and sobbed. I leaned over and vomited. This happened numerous times. Archibald was stopped.

Thanks to my bardic collage of glamour I was able to command him to do something non fatal until I ‘caused him harm’. The tears streamed down my face. My hair had returned to its black, unkempt form. I just kept crying. It was relentless. Every time I blinked I could see the events like they were still happening. I could feel him against my lips. I managed to stand up and turned to the door.

“l won’t be dispelling this,” my voice was quivering and may body ached from vomiting, “You will dance until you bleed and your body crumples to the ground. You don’t deserve to die a quick death.”

I made sure to lock the door and blow out the torches. No one would know the barber was dancing in the dark with his pants around his ankles.

The walk back to the bar was a haze. I kept wiping my lips. The tears had stopped but it hurt to wipe my eyes anymore. Since I had to use my mantle I was also tired from that. I pushed the door of the bar open. Tugal was closed at the moment but was asleep in one of the booths. As quietly as I could I crossed the wood floor to the stairs. As I began my assent I heard a voice. It sounded like it was a million miles away.

“Miss Melody. I made sure to change your bed sheets,” it was Tugal calling out to me.

I turned and gave him a weak smile. I couldn’t even bring myself to speak. I continued my climb up the stairs and to my rented room. I collapsed on the bed face down. The feelings rushed over me again and I sobbed. I just sobbed and sobbed. Then a knock came from the door.

“Miss is everything ok?” Tugal’s warm voice had concern in it.

I don’t know if he’d ever seen me anything but bubbly. My body refused to move or audibly respond.

“Miss if you need anything I’ll be downstairs.” I heard him start towards the stairs, “Please don’t hesitate.”

Every time I closed my eyes my mind kept trying to replay my entire interaction with the barber. I know he was mad at me once he knew about my performance. I know it was dumb to have forgotten my money. I don’t feel like sexual pleasure is payment for services rendered. I just kept thinking about how it was my fault I was in the position I was in. Then my mind would get to the part. I could still see it so vividly.

I looked up from the bed and I met my own gaze. I managed to pull myself up, staring at my body in the mirror. My hair was laying on my shoulders. I hated what I saw. It made me furious. I slid off the bed and walked over to my rapier. I slid the pink sword from the scabbard. I randomly grabbed chunks of hair and sliced it off. My hair was left uneven and frayed. I stared at myself in the mirror growing more angry.

My thoughts were spiraling at this point. I just wanted to forget. To go back to this morning. My hair started to glow. The pink to purple gradient was now being capped with white when it reached my frayed ends. Instead of looking like a beautiful sea, my hair now looked like the raging waters during a storm. The effect was fading in and out. I wasn’t meant to do this more than once a day. I didn’t care. I couldn’t focus on anyone thought. I just wanted a reset.

I locked eyes with myself in the mirror. What do I say? One word command spells can be like a wish from a genie, up to interpretation if you don’t do it right. Too many thoughts. Too much in my head. Hell with it!

“Scramble!” I blurted out.

My hair flared around my head then fell black and lifeless. I felt a fog wash over my thoughts, then darkness. When I came too I could hear a knocking on the door.

“Miss Melody, everything alright?” Tugal’s voice sounded low and concerned.

I leapt out of bed and threw the door open, “everything is great! How are you? Is everything ready for tonight? Are you ready for a show? Do you like my hair?”

What was I saying? Was I even breathing between thoughts? Every sentence was every thought I was having all at once. What happened? Why would I be like this? What happened to me today?

Tugal took a step back and smiled, “I’m glad you’ve gotten your spirt back.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Did I seem strange? What happened?” I was talking a mile a minute.

“I have you’re area prepared and some food down at the bar with your name on it,” he told me as he headed down the stairs.

“Thanks Tugal! You’re the best! My show will be awesome! You’re going to make so much money!” I yelled out to him, waving like mad.

This is me now. A fast talking, quick whited, pink clad bard. Not a care in the world and always ready for anything. Good thing nothing bad has ever happened.

[scarletkate1881]

Coming Down - Chapter Two

Float 

After three days on the road, I'd finally arrived back in Bayville, New York. It was strange being back here and as I climbed out of my shabby pickup truck, I noticed the mansion was under repair, a blue tarp covered one of the large bay windows and the corner of the building looked like it had been blasted off.

I knew from Logan that Xavier had shut down the mansion as a school; he wanted it to be a safe haven for young mutants, but since it doubled as the X-Men's base, it was the target for numerous attacks from the Brotherhood, other pissed of mutants and the new anti-mutant group, Friends of Humanity, so really it was no place for children; now it was purely X-Men business. At least it'd be a bit quieter.

"Rogue!" The wind was knocked out of me as my old roommate Kitty Pryde ran into me and gave me a tight hug.

"Hey Kitty, I missed you, too," I laughed as I patted her back and then pulled away; she hadn't changed much in the six years I'd been gone; still the small little bundle of excitement with her hair in a high ponytail that swung with her movements.

"Oh wow, look at your hair," She noted, the smile on her face was a nice, familiar sight.

"Yeah, I kinda got sick of dying it and straightening it." I used to have to get up two hours earlier than her to work on my hair; it was naturally curly and it took a lot of work to get it in order, if I didn't dry it properly after the shower, it'd look like an afro. As for the color, I'd like to think I'd gotten over my gothic faze, and went back to my natural red.

"You look totally different! Like in a good way, though, you don't look so scary anymore," Kitty stopped, her bright blue eyes widening slightly. "Not that I was scared of you, or anything, but others totally were. Want help with your bags?"

"Nah, it's okay, only got the one," I replied, going round the back of my truck and retrieving my small rucksack from the backseat.

"Is that seriously all you have?" Kitty's eyebrows pulled together and I rolled my eyes but smiled.

"Yes, unlike some, I don't need fifty dresses and two hundred pairs of shoes." I mocked and headed toward the front door; Kitty skipped along beside me. I tried to hide the nervousness I was feeling as I open the door and walked inside.

Standing in the lobby, memories flooded my head of my time here; when Bobby slid down the banister and ended up breaking his arm, running around after Kurt when he ate the last of my cereal, I know that my time here wasn't all bad, there were some good memories; but I'd felt like I was in a cage; just sitting around waiting for the next fight.

The strong smell of sulfur signaled the arrival of my furry blue little brother, Kurt, he smiled at me, showing his sharp teeth, but there was a hint of sadness in his yellow eyes.

"Hey Rogue, I'm glad you're back, I didn't believe Raven when she said you were coming," Kurt had definitely had a growth spurt since I'd been gone, at a guess, he'd have to be at least six foot one.

"What can I say? Mystique really sold it to me," I replied lightheartedly, but instantly realized my mistake when both Kitty and Kurt's face fell.

"You're only here because Mystique spoke to you? I thought you were just coming home," Kitty asked, coming to stand in front of me to look me in the eye.

"Does it really matter? I'm here to help with Sinister," I muttered, feeling mightily uneasy. "Look, I've had a long drive here, I'd like to get some rest. Where am I staying?"

"Jean's old room is empty, I guess you can stay there," Kitty replied, but the energy from her voice was gone, after speaking she walked off toward the kitchen. So glad to see Kitty still gets offended over the smallest thing.

Turning to look at Kurt, I opened my mouth to speak but he got there before me. "The Professor will probably want to talk to you." He mumbled and then bamfed off before I could say anything else.

"It's good to see you again, Rogue," The Professor said as soon as I walked into his office. Driving over here, I kept running through my mind the things I wanted to say, I wanted to have a go at Xavier for keeping tabs on me and for telling Mystique where I was, but as soon as I entered the office, I felt nothing but relaxed and happy to see him again; maybe that was his doing.

"Same to you; it's strange being back though, especially since there's no screaming kids running down the hallways," I mused, sitting in the seat in front of his desk.

"I assume Raven has informed you of our problem," O…kay, so straight into business, that's fine, I can deal with that.

"Yup, Mr. Sinister, hopped up mutants, evil intentions to take over the world, the usual," I shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's a little bit more than that, I'm afraid, Rogue," Xavier sounded more tired than usual, the wrinkles on his forehead more pronounced; had he just aged that much since I left? Or was this Sinister thing taking its toll on him? "He seems intent on collecting powerful mutants and not just giving their mutations a boost, but also giving them new powers."

"Mystique did tell me about the ones you've already come across; did they really down Colossus?"

"Yes, Mr. Rasputin was incapacitated to quite a serious degree; Hank had trouble treating him because we couldn't get him out of his steel form, but he's recovered well, already back in action." The Professor wheeled himself around the desk to be by my side.

"You've gotten control of your skin," he said, his eyebrows furrowed. "How did you manage that? We worked for two years and didn't get anywhere near control."

"Oh, I don't know, I was just meditating a lot, maybe being away from here, being somewhere where I could just focus on myself for days on end without being disturbed might have helped. But it sure was a surprise; I mean, I was concentrating so much I thought my head would explode and then something just snapped," I let out a small laugh as I clicked my fingers to emphasize my point. "The first thing I did was run out into the street and touch the first person I came across; nearly gave the poor old woman a heart attack."

The little smile on my face disappeared at Xavier's concerned expression, I was about to ask what was wrong, but he spoke before me; people have to stop doing that.

"I'm sure you had a tiring journey here and you'll want to rest; Jean's old room has been made up for you," I took that as him dismissing me, so I left without another word.

Why did I find it funny that I was given Jean's room? The girl I used to envy so much it hurt; she seemed perfect in every way, smart, popular, pretty; the things I'd never been. Scott's interest in her just made it worse. Four years ago, before I left, I'd finally gotten over my little flame for Summers and in turn, my jealous of Jean, not that I ever tried to bridge the gap between me and Grey.

As I walked down the once familiar hallway toward the room, I wondered if Kitty had kept our old room; I'd left a few of my things, mainly because I packed in under twenty minutes when I decided to leave. Just as I arrived at Jean's old room, I heard a door a couple rooms down open, I turned and I felt my heart stop for a second.

There stood Remy LeBeau, the person who brought so much frustration and excitement into my life. His hair was a little longer, almost brushing his shoulders and it looked like he'd bulked up a little bit but not in a way that he looked like a body builder. His strange, striking eyes bored into me for a second, before he turned back around into his room and slammed the door, making me jump and come back to my senses.

I wanted to talk to him, tell him that I had missed him and explain why I ignored his calls; but how do I start? And would he even listen to me? I sure wouldn't. I shook my head and entered my new room, throwing my backpack into the blue arm chair in the corner of the room.

Looking around the room, there was no indication of who the past occupant was, I doubt I'd be staying around long enough to make the place my own. I let out an indulgent sigh as I sat down on the soft double bed, it was a massive improvement on the lumpy piece of shit I'd been sleeping on the past few years.

I unlaced my boots before sprawling out on the bed, the exhaustion of the past three days crashing down on me. A thought drifted through my mind that I should probably drop in on Logan. It can wait, he'll understand, he knows how much I need my sleep.

The last musing in my mind was what I'd say to Remy, I knew I'd have to talk to him sooner or later, but he's always had a way of making my mind blank, whether it was with his terms of endearments or one of his devilish smiles, maybe Kitty would help me out, lord knows she owes me it with how many times she asked me for advice with Avalanche.

"Wakey wakey, Rogue, dinner time," I cracked opened one eye to see my blue elf of a brother smiling down at me, I guessed that he wasn't still upset over my earlier comment about being here.

"Great, I'll be down in five, gotta change," I mumbled out, my voice thick with sleep.

After I'd changed into a dark green turtle neck and light blue jeans, I made my way down to the dining room. My steps did falter slightly when I realized that Gambit would probably be down there; Don't worry about it, Rogue, what's he going to do? If he says anything, I'll deal with him, thanks, mental Kurt.

Even though the mansion was no longer a school, the noise in the dining room could've fooled me, the loudest voice was Bobby, of course, closely followed by Jubilee. I took a deep breath before entering the room, while I'd work a lot on coming out of my antisocial shell, I still didn't like being the center of attention.

"Rogue! You're finally returned, huh?" Bobby greeted, his mouth full of food. I gave a small awkward smile and offered a halfhearted wave. The rest welcomed with smiles and comments about how they missed me, it took all my self-restraint not to roll my eyes. Even Jean said she was happy to have me back here. Remy wasn't anywhere to be seen, not that I was looking for him.

I took the empty seat in between Kurt and Rahne and within seconds everybody had went back to their previous conversations, the momentary "excitement" of my return had passed, thank the lord.

"Hey, where's Logan?" I asked to no one in particular as I helped myself to some apple juice; my stomach rumbled as I looked at the food, it'd been a while since I'd had a proper meal.

"Him and Storm are in New York City, trying to get some more allies." Kitty answered from her place across the table from me. "They're always off somewhere asking for help."

"The more help, the better, I hate to say it, but we're out of our depth here," Scott said, his tone conveying how it pissed him off to have to outsource help. Yeah, I know I had a crush on him, but I'd realized just how much of a sore loser he was, at least when he lost it just made him try harder the next time.

"How come Mystique hasn't gotten the Brotherhood to join our ranks?" I didn't care to ask where my adopted mother was, she'd said she was going to England, maybe she was still there.

"Mystique abandoned them to join us; Avalanche, Blob and Toad are still causing trouble, but we've got bigger fish to fry right now," Kitty informed me, I didn't miss the way she said Avalanche, was she seriously still hung up on him? I thought she'd moved on to the Tinman.

"What about Pietro and Wanda? Or Boom Boom?"

"Tabitha's just dropped off the map, but the twins? You won't believe me but they're members of the Avengers now, rubbing shoulders with Captain America, being heroes and all that."

"You're fucking kidding me? Did someone knock their heads together and make them see sense?" I stared wide-eyed at Kitty, how just shrugged.

I knew that Captain America had been brought out of the ice, they'd finally managed to find the cure to save him; that phone call was the first time I'd ever heard Logan sound so happy and it warmed my heart that he'd gotten one of his closest friends back, friends were something Logan desperately needed.

After the little catch up session, I focused on eating as the others had conversations around me, I sometimes chipped in but for the most part I kept quiet.

While drinking some of my apple juice, Kitty kicked me under the table and quite hard, I glared at her before looking over to where she was gesturing with her head. Gambit had decided to join us. I wasn't unaware of the way things quieted down or the looks that were being shot between me and Remy, but I ignored them, just kept on eating.

He took the seat next to Jubilee and started a conversation with her, seemingly ignoring the looks, too. Of course, everybody knew what went on between the two of us and I wouldn't be surprised if people thought I left because of him, that obviously wasn't the case, well, not fully.

The rest of dinner went by uneventfully, Remy didn't say anything or even look at me and I just spoke to Kurt, Kitty and sometimes Rahne before making my excuses and retiring back to my room. I took the time to empty my backpack and put away the clothing, not that it took me that long, five minutes and I was back to sitting on the edge of the large bed, staring blankly at the pale green wall in front of me.

Leaving here was such a big leap, for years I'd been wanting to change myself because I wasn't happy in the slightest, but after being on my own for a few months I realized I still wasn't happy, I thought that maybe I was just an unhappy person, so I tried to change that, too; become more sociable, try and get some friends, it wasn't easy but I committed myself to the whole 'fake it 'til you make it' and I guess it did work slightly, I did make some friends back in California, not ones that I'd necessarily contact now that I'm here in New York, but ones that I could talk to and go out with while I was there.

It might be more difficult trying to pull off my new persona here, mainly because the people here know me already, they know how problematic and mean I can be. But am I really intending to stay here once the Sinister debacle is over? It's a nicer place to live, I don't have to worry about having food, paying rent or having heating, all I have to worry about is getting out of a mission alive.

A gentle knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts; in the few seconds it took me to get over to the door I went through a mental list of who it could be; not Kitty or Kurt, they just come in, just like Gambit would, not that he'd be visiting anytime soon.

Jean stood on the other side, looking slightly nervous but still with a kind smile on her face, one that I knew I didn't deserve, not with the way I treated her when I was here last.

"Hey Rogue, I was hoping I could speak with you,"

"Uh, sure, come on in," I felt sort of stupid that I had to invite her in to her old room, but unlike some in the mansion, she was polite enough to respect others' space.

She sat in the armchair in the corner and look around the room. "What was I thinking choosing that shade of green? Any plans to change it?"

I rubbed the back of my neck as I sat on the edge of the bed facing her, feeling a bit uncomfortable around her. "I don't think I'll be staying here long enough for that."

"Oh, that's a shame, I know how much it means to Kurt and Kitty to have you back; they were heartbroken after you left. Logan missed you, too, not that he'd ever admit it, but he'd always be looking out the window in case you came rolling up the driveway."

"I'll admit, I missed them, too, but I don't regret leaving, it was nice to be away from it all, work on getting my head sorted." Yeah, I know lying is bad, but that's technically only half a lie, I did do some work on the mental side of things and finally had the breakthrough I'd been dreaming of for years.

"Anyways, not what I came to talk about. Gambit." The look on my face made her pause and baulk somewhat. "I know it's none of my business but –"

"No, it's really not," I spat, my hands clenching in the bedsheets and my teeth grinding together.

"But if you're going to be staying here for any amount of time, I think it's crucial for the team that you air your grievances, I'm not saying throw yourselves back into a relationship, I just think you need to agree to be civil with each other; we've already got a battle coming, we don't need one at home, too."

"Jean, I appreciate it, but don't. I will be civil with him, we're not going to start a screaming match, he's gone his way and I've gone mine, I'm sure he's landed on his feet and is working through a long list of rebounds or whatever."

The older redhead's eyebrows pulled together and there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "Is that what you really think? That Gambit is that cold-hearted? Because I can tell you that couldn't be farther from the truth. Sure, I can't read his mind properly, but I can get a feel of his emotions sometimes when he lets his guard down. And the first few months after you left, he was distraught, but of course, around everyone else, he was smiling, cracking jokes, but when he was alone, he was sad and lonely, it brought me down just being on the same floor as him."

I didn't want to hear this; I didn't want to hear how my selfish tendencies had affected someone I cared about.

"And I think you know better than anybody here that Gambit isn't very good at admitting his true feelings, so you need to be the bigger person here, sit down with him and talk it out, come to an agreement about where you both stand, not just for the two of you but for the good of the team."

"Did Scott get you to do this? He's always going on about the best options for the team. Would he be too uncomfortable to talk about relationships with me that he sent you to do his bidding?" As I spoke, I mentally scolded myself; this aggressive, defensive behavior was something I'd been working on getting rid of, it's just childish, but I can't help myself, it's my go to mechanism to protect myself from things I'm too cowardly to listen to.

The look on Jean's face wasn't one of being offended, it was sadness, not at my rudeness, but actually for me. I knew Jean was a nice person with such a kind heart and it was another thing I was jealous of.

"Gambit may act like an emotionally untouchable ladies' man, but deep down, it hurt him, I'd even go so far as to say you broke his heart." Jean said softly before giving me another soft smiling and then getting up to leave.

Once the door shut, I dropped my head into my hands. Coming back here was a mistake, I'm too much of a weakling to deal with this kind of stuff; fighting the bad guy? Let me at 'em. But dealing with relationships and that kind of shit? I run a mile.

Here I was thinking that I could just drift back to New York after floating away; hoping that everything would be the same. The thing about floating, though, is that it's all well and good until you've drifted so far from the shore and you don't know your way back. Maybe I should start swimming.

PART THREE

[changingourdestiny]

Coronation Part 7: Love’s a Gambit

Summary:

In a burst of Light, Marcia - now free from any corruption - lands the finishing blow to the Primeval. While the rest of the Vanguard return to the Tower, Fireteam Paralight and the Drifter, with an unconscious Marcia, regroup at the Derelict.

Previous Part: Here

Epilogue: Here

“I DIDN’T THINK THIS THROUGH!!!”

Rae desperately held onto her Dawnblade, which was buried deep into one of the spaces between the Chimera Primeval’s shell, as it spun and whipped around furiously in an attempt to shake her off. “Oh no…” Rae felt her Super fade as the blade disappeared and she fell off the Primeval, “Oh no, no, no, no!” As she fell, Rae suddenly felt herself being caught by someone before being teleported back down to the ground. Ikora had glided up to her and then blinked the both of them back down to safety. “Thank me later.” Ikora set Rae on the ground before attacking the Primeval with her shotgun, the Invective. “Guys, the seal!” Blaze exclaimed. “Yeah, we know! We’re fighting as fast as we can.” Rae called back as she went to town on the Primeval with her auto-rifle.

“No! Look!”

Rae glanced up at the ceiling of the Dreadnaught and her eyes went wide. The seal was retreating backwards and disappearing completely in some patches. “The seal…it’s disappearing?” Drifter muttered as he stared at it. “Drifter, watch your six!” Blaze exclaimed. Drifter spun around to see the Primeval about to fire right at him.

*Whoosh!!!*

A gold blur when darting past Drifter and alongside the Primeval, carving a golden line along it and making it roar in pain. “Oi, ugly!” A familiar voice yelled out. Everyone, Primeval included looked up to where the gold blur had soared into the air and was hovering above the Primeval. Eyes glowing gold and white, golden wings stretched wide with beautiful white markings and matching horns, markings no longer a mix of purple and sickly teal green but a beautiful bright gold. There, no longer corrupted and flying high in her now purified Starlight form, was Marcia Wyverk – Starlight of Tribe Claw. “No way…” Rae gasped. Marcia smirked at the Primeval as she spun her scythe a few times before dive bombing the Primeval, zipping around it as she landed blow after blow with her scythe. The Primeval fired a blast of Taken energy at Marcia, but she sliced through it – using the scythe’s ability to negate any Darkness that came her way. “Take this, you ascendant dolt!” Marcia yelled as she swung her scythe down heavily, causing a blade of golden Light to go soaring right into the Primeval’s mouth. Golden cracks appeared across the Primeval before it exploded into pieces. Marcia was breathing heavily as she gently glided back down to the ground before her Starlight form disappeared. She looked over her shoulder at Drifter and gave him a weak smile and a thumbs up…before collapsing to the ground. Drifter, breaking out of his shocked stupor, sprinted over to the unconscious Hunter and checked her over. She was alive and breathing, just passed-out from exhaustion. “Is she okay?!” Rae asked, sprinting over to the two rogues with the rest of Paralight and the Vanguard not far behind. “Yeah. She’s just tired. Thankfully…” Drifter muttered the last part. “Uh, guys?” Cayde spoke up as he spotted more Taken flooding into the hull breach. Rae turned to Blaze, “I’ll take Marcia. You take Drifter and we’ll regroup at the Derelict.” Rae then turned to her fellow Vanguard, “I’ll meet you guys back at the Tower once we make sure Marcia’s alright.” The group sprinted towards their own jumpships and soared away from the Dreadnaught as fast as they could.

———————————————————————

Carrying Marcia bridal-style, Rae felt her feet land on the solid floor of the Derelict. She had only ever been in the Derelict’s ready room when Blaze managed to drag her into a round of Gambit every once in a while but had never actually seen the rest of the ship. She knew Blaze had been inside while helping Drifter with ‘business’, as he’d put it. Knowing him, it was probably something that would get him in serious trouble with the Vanguard. Rae looked down at the unconscious Marcia in her arms and noticed something. Her arm markings, which was originally a dull periwinkle that turned into the sickly dark teal that was similar to the colour of the Taken were now a bright periwinkle. It confirmed Rae’s suspicions; Marcia was no longer corrupted at all. Her Light had completely returned. But how? One moment she was on the verge of becoming Taken, the next she was in a completely purified Starlight form. What caused the sudden change?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Drifter, Adam and Blaze arriving behind her. “Geez. Glad I was ridin’ with Blaze.” Drifter chuckled, “You fly like it was the end of the universe or somethin’.”

“I told you that you fly too fast!” Ghost piped up as he appeared beside his Guardian. “Yeah, yeah.” Rae rolled her eyes playfully as she gently pushed Ghost down, causing him to disappear. “Anyway, follow me. Marcia can stay in my room.” Drifter motioned for the group to follow him as he walked down a catwalk to the left. As they walked down the dark corridors of the Derelict, Rae shivered as she felt an icy-cold draft blow past her. “The hell? Why’s it so-?” Rae cut herself off as they turned a corner and arrived in a large room full of snow and ice crystals. “…cold.” Rae finished as she stared wide-eyed at the snow filled room before turning to Drifter, “How…when did…do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” Drifter shrugged with a smirk, “C’mon. Room’s right ahead!” Drifter lead the small Fireteam to what seemed like a small shipping container with a light illuminating the inside. “You…sleep in the snow?” Adam asked in disbelief as they trudged through the snow.

“Trust me, brother. I’ve slept in worse.” Drifter replied simply.

“Again, do I wanna know?” Rae asked.

“Again, probably not.”

They arrived inside the container. It had some boxes and miscellaneous items – one box having what seemed like a Vex arm sticking out – littered about with what seemed like a work table with a couple of guns and some papers strewn about and a banner hung above it with the Gambit symbol on it. Opposite the table was a table with a blue and orange sleeping bag on it and a red pillow lying on it. Drifter sauntered up to the sleeping bag, opened it up and placed the pillow inside it. “I got ‘er.” Drifter took carefully took Marcia from Rae’s arms and laid her inside the sleeping bag, zipping her up in it. “There we go. Give ‘er some rest and she’ll be back to action in no time.” Drifter sighed, Rae hearing a tad of relief in his voice. “Hey, Adam.” Blaze grinned, motioning to the snow with her head, “Snowball fight?”

“Considering I still need to get you back for that New Year’s video,” Adam smirked, “You’re on!” The two Guardians ran off into the snow and began pelting each other with snowballs. “Ah, guys! Wait, you don’t know if- I dunno if it’s actually sno- ugh, they’re gone.” Rae sighed in defeat. “Ah, don’t worry about ‘em.” Drifter chuckled, “Marcia’s pelted me with plenty o’ them snowballs and I’m fine, ain’t I?”

“Do you want me to answer honestly or…?” Rae smirked. “Oh, ha ha.” Drifter rolled his eyes sarcastically, ”Are the rest of the Vanguard as funny as you?”

“Cayde? Yes – funnier even. Ikora? She’s more into witty comebacks to the jokes Cayde and I make. Zavala? Well…not so much.”

“Figured.”

Drifter plopped down on a nearby box with a sigh as she glanced at the sleeping Marcia, “I swear, one of these days, that woman’s gonna give me a heart attack. Seems like avoiding death by a hair’s length is a common thing for her.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Rae chuckled slightly as she recalled their adventure on the Moon. Rae glanced between him and Marcia, “So…what is the relationship between you too?”

“What’cha mean?”

“Well, from what Blaze tells me, you aren’t really one for getting close to people. However, it seems like you care an awful lot about Marcia. And from what I’ve seen, she cares a lot about you too.” Drifter let out a heavy exhale as he stared down at his feet, thinking about how to word his thoughts, “Well…when you’ve been out in the wilds as long as I have, you learn that gettin’ too close to people will only get ya hurt in the end. However…there are some people that, no matter how ya try, just seem to stick with ya. Here’s the thing about Marcia. She’s tough. Granted, most of you Guardians are. But not like she is. She’s been to hell ‘n’ back and has stared death in the face who knows how many times. Hell, from what she tells me, she’s stared death in the face even before she was revived. The fact that she’s gone through all of that and has still managed to keep herself and her Ghost intact…well, that’s beyond me. But if there’s one or two things I’ve learned about that kid, it’s that she’s loyal and honest. Secretive, maybe. But ‘ey, you gotta be to survive. Even so, you can trust ‘er to tell ya the truth when it matters. When I first met ‘er, I figured those things were gonna get ‘er killed at some point. Yet here she is. Even if we went our separate ways once or twice, she always had my back. Even if she knew there was a high chance she’d get herself killed, she still stuck with me. Dunno why. Maybe she liked the danger. Maybe she had a death wish. Maybe she was just as nuts as I was. Maybe all of ‘em. Either way, it got to a point where…I’ll be honest here, I began to miss havin’ ‘er by me when we would be split. When she showed up at your first Gambit, I immediately knew it was ‘er. I only knew one person that could fight how she did. And I gotta admit, I was relieved seein’ ‘er there. After findin’ out what the Red Legion did to a lotta Guardians…well I immediately assumed the worst. I was kickin’ myself ‘cause I kept tellin’ myself I’d only wind up getting’ hurt if I kept carin’ about ‘er and there I was hurtin’. And I felt the same way again seein’ ‘er practically dyin’ there on the Dreadnaught…with nothin’ I could do to save ‘er. Yet both times, she managed to prove me wrong. I guess…well, I guess since I just can’t seem to shake ‘er, might as well face facts, right?” Drifter lifted his gaze from the ground and faced Rae, “You wanna know what’s my relationship with Marcia? Well…I love ‘er. And while it ain’t sayin’ much comin’ from me, it’s the straight and honest truth.”

Rae gave an understanding smile, “I had a feeling. Seeing the dynamic you two have, it reminded me a lot of myself and Cayde. Well, if Cayde and I were ten-times crazier.”

“Heh. True that. Seems like nothin’s able to separate you two, eh? Crazy Cabal overlord shows up, you manage to find and save ‘im on a Vex-infested planet. Ex-Awoken prince and his undead Fallen posse beat ‘em up, you manage to bring ‘im and his Ghost back to life. I don’t know that guy as well as you do – personally, knew enough to know I didn’t like ‘im all that much – but a lotta people would kill for what you have.” Drifter chuckled.

“I’ll be honest,” Rae began, “I’m surprised you’re telling me this. I figured the last person you’d open up to is a Vanguard. Then again, you could be lying for all I know, but…something tells me you’re not.”

“Well, you’re right. About both of those things actually.” Drifter shrugged, “But Marcia trusts you and your little crew. If she trusts ya, then I trust ya. Even if ya are a snitch.” Rae went to say something but was interrupted by a snowball hitting her in the side of her head. “Oops!” Rae heard Blaze exclaim, “Rae, uh…Adam did it!”

“Oh no, you’re not pinning this on me!” Adam argued. As the two Guardians bickered, Rae glanced at Drifter, “Wanna show ‘em how it’s done?”

“Hmm…never thought I’d team up with a Vanguard…” Drifter feigned thought but shrugged, “Eh. First time for everything, right?” Blaze and Adam continued to argue until Blaze heard the sound of two pairs of footsteps running through the snow. She turned to see Rae and Drifter charging at them with snowballs in hand. “We’re invading!” Rae yelled with a smirk as she lobbed a snowball at Blaze. “Make a mess!” Drifter finished as he aimed for Adam. “Oh geez, run!!” Blaze laughed in a mix of joy and terror as she and Adam dodged the incoming snow barrage as they retaliated with snowballs of their own. Little did they know that as their snowball fight raged on, a certain Hunter had woken up and was watching from the edge of the container. She smiled and chuckled to herself before returning to the sleeping bag, still tired from the last few days’ craziness.

To Be Continued…