|
Summary: The spandex has been tucked
away, and supervillains are a thing of the past, but not everything's
as good as it should be.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all -- like you didn't know
that already!
Note: As the 'title' suggests, this is nothing more
than random mutterings. Don't expect a sensible flow of coherent
ideas below. Also, for everybody who doesn't like Rogue and
Remy, there isn't any mushy stuff. Really.
Date: April 14, 18, 1999
The small, almost flat, grey metal box was one of the few
things that had managed to stay with her during the turbulent
years. She'd carried it with her faithfully, heeding her mother's
warnings about being prepared for any eventuality. It's contents
had been a way out should things spiral too far out of control.
Slim fingers fumbled at the latch for a moment before it
sprung open. She hesitated a moment before withdrawing
the neatly stacked pile of documents. Fuzzy pink bunny slippers
were nudged from her feet before she drew them up under her.
She lay each card on the bed around her, bare fingers tracing
over the laminated edges. "Never thought I'd see this
day..." she murmured. A sigh broke past her lips. Her
eyes were burning with unshed tears, and she hated herself
for them.
"Rogue?" Storm's familiar voice, soft and lilting,
accompanied her gentle rap on the closed door.
Rogue's head straightened, her tumble of brown and white
curls resettling themselves at her abrupt movement. "Come
in," she answered. She didn't watch Storm's entrance,
nor did her eyes move from their study of the contents of
the box until the bed dipped slightly as Storm sat.
Clever thief's fingers darted out curiously, latching onto
one of the cards surrounding the younger woman. "Hannah?"
Storm questioned, cat-like blue eyes focusing on Rogue's profile.
"Somehow, I would not have pictured you as such."
Rogue's lips twitched upwards briefly. "Never much saw
that myself. I was only her once or twice... girl had horrible
hair." Blunt nails tapped against the shiny surface of
each card in turn. Memories swarmed in her mind, loud and
angry and so very insistent.
"What are you going to do now, Rogue?"
Her throat was tight, dry. She blinked wildly. "Remy
asked me to marry him," she said. Bare hands twisted
in her lap. "I'm not sure..." Her voice trailed
off, pained and uncertain. Her eyes burned, vision wavering.
"You love each other," the words were calm and
concerned, all in one. Soft hands reached out to rest
against Rogue's shaking shoulders.
"We do," Rogue affirmed. "It's not that...
I've had his memories inside me so often that I couldn't doubt
that anymore. I... I'm frightened." The words
were strangely liberating, free from the heavy constraints
she had laid upon them for the last week.
Green eyes shifted, searching out Ororo's serene features.
Even inside the stifling confines of Rogue's small room, delicate
strands of white hair danced on an unfelt current of air.
The very air itself seemed to adore Storm's thick mane, unseen
fingers constantly drifting through it. Despite the constant
attention the wind lavished upon the silky strands, the woman's
hair was never mussed. Rogue always wondered at that. Her
own hair became a tangled mess if she so much as contemplated
opening a window.
"Afraid of what?"
Rogue choked, half laughter, half protest. "What am
I not afraid of." She scrubbed at her tearing
eyes halfheartedly. "I've wanted to be normal for so
long. And now, all of us have the chance to hang up the spandex,
and... I don't know if I can be normal. Especially not now..."
She shrugged helplessly.
The serenity that radiated from Storm flickered briefly.
"What's past is past, Rogue. Do not give up your future
for it."
"I know..." Deep breath, shaky laugh. She reached
out, drawing another I.D. into a shaking hand. "How about
Jessica LeBeau?"
She came home to a dirty kitchen and a mailbox piled with
bills. Jessica sighed, wearily flopping down on the
nearest kitchen chair. She nudged aside the half-full cereal
bowl that her daughter had abandoned for more amusing pursuits
that morning.
The mail scattered across the table top. Bill, bill, bill...
Her absent shuffling stilled when her hand landed upon the
magazine. The cover displayed an almost unnaturally thin woman
clad in the newest style, and Jessica attempted to squash
her brief surge of nostalgia for her own perfectly shaped
body.
"We fought for years so that the fashion industry could
use anorexic human and mutant girls to peddle their
clothes..." she sighed, looking at the smiling young
woman with delicate wings who appeared to be selling a particularly
unwieldy pair of high heels.
The page flipped, and she snorted in amusement. '10 Reasons
why Mutants Make Better Husbands!' the title screamed in hot
pink print. She couldn't stop the helpless laughter
that bubbled within her. Her head dropped to the table, her
shoulders shaking so hard that, after a while, she couldn't
remember if she'd been laughing or crying to begin with.
"Bonne fete, ma petite ange!" Remy exclaimed, tickling
the squirming child until she shrieked with laughter. He ruffled
her short blonde hair fondly before lifting her off the carpeted
floor.
"You want to open your presents now?" Jessica asked
as her husband drew her into his arms. Her head leaned against
his shoulder, and she smiled down at her eager faced daughter.
"Yes!" Angelique exclaimed eagerly. Her eyes were
wide with excitement and her hands twisted around as if she
could already feel the gift beneath her small hands.
She hurtled towards the figure on the couch, who easily caught
her. Raven smiled slightly, allowing the child to eagerly
tug the gift from her hands. The brightly coloured paper was
carelessly tossed to the floor as frenzied hands tore through
it. Angelique's eyes went impossibly wide as she pulled out
the water gun from it's box. "A water gun?"
"Mm hm. What do you say we go practice after we eat?"
"No." Jessica's voice was hard and unyielding when
she finally found her voice. Only Remy's arm around her waist
stopped her from ripping the toy from the child's hands. She
settled for an enraged glare in Raven's direction. The other
woman shrugged it off.
"I need to talk to you, momma. Now."
"Not now, chere. Angel hasn't seen all of her gifts
yet. Let's not ruin this for her," Remy murmured into
her ear. Jessica nodded slowly, fists slowly unclenching.
"How could you, momma! You know that I don't
want Angel playing with these types of things --" Her
face was flushed and furious, green eyes blazing. She swirled
around on bare feet, hands flexing before her.
Raven watched her daughter's restless pacing, irritation
blooming within her as the younger woman continued to snap
out harsh, angry words. "You are a fool, Rogue,"
Raven spat suddenly, her patience fizzling away to nothing.
Her voice was cool and collected, although no less certain
than the other's. "The child needs to learn how to protect
herself."
"She doesn't have to! We won, momma. I know how
you'll do this. Toy guns, real guns, another little
soldier for you to shape!" She took a deep breath, her
body trembling with the force of her emotions. "We
won."
Raven sneered. "Won? Look around you, Rogue! Minorities
are still abused, women are still fighting for equality, homosexuals
still ignite disgust and unease among people -- do you really
think that after a mere six years that people have tossed
aside their hatred of our kind?!"
Rogue shook her head stubbornly. "I'll take care of
her. She shouldn't have to know about--"
"About how to survive on her own?" An exasperated
hiss of air escaped Raven as she watched her daughter through
narrowed eyes. "Are names aren't going to be kept out
of public records forever. People have long memories, Rogue.
What's to stop some bigoted fool from hurting your child?
Will you only see what's around you when Angel dies
at the--"
"No! Don't you dare even say that. We won!"
Raven's eyes shifted away from Rogue to meet Remy's eyes.
He cast a quick glance at his wife's shaking shoulders and
nodded slowly. "She has to learn, Jessica."
Her shoulders stiffened at his words, and she didn't look
at either of them as she left the room.
There was no more denying it. He was going bald. Remy LeBeau,
onetime charmer with hair to spare, was going bald.
Bad enough that he could hardly vault over a fence with his
former speed and agility... but his hair. He had thought
that it, at least, would be something that would see him into
old age. He touched his head gingerly and winced at the smooth
skin that met his questing fingertips.
He stepped out of the bathroom, his steps slow and heavy.
Jessica was sprawled out on the floor, huffing and cursing
irritably as she followed the perky, smiling blond in spandex
who was cheerfully moving onto her fifth set of curl ups.
Her head twisted and she watched for a moment as Remy rubbed
at his thinning hair, a lost expression on his face.
"Don't you dare even think about getting a combover!"
~End of Random Mutterings~
This is what you get when all I get all
depressed and start thinking at the same time. This
mostly came about because I was wondering if people actually
really, really fall totally in love. You know, like
movies and tv and books and all. I was talking with my parents
about their families, and it just didn't exactly seem like
grownup married life is actually very happy a lot of
times. *shrug*
Down-Home Charm / Fan-Fiction /
Fan Artwork / History Books /
Photo Album / Songbank /
Miscellania / Links /
Updates
Legalese: Rogue, the X-Men, and the distinctive likenesses thereof
are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used without permission. This is an
unofficial fansite, and is not sponsored, licensed or approved by
Marvel Comics.
• Privacy Policy and Submission
Guidelines
|
