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Dic bant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum
amicoe visitarem,
curas meas auquantulum for levatas
{My compains told me I might lighten my misery
by visiting my dear ones grave}
-Ebn Zaiat
The air is cold outside, agaigo breezes filter through my
unkept hair like fingers. I cast a glance up at the sky and
frown. Beautiful. Pure azure no clouds at all. Smooth as that
sapphire ring she wore on her midle finger, it was always
hidden under gloves. Some leather, some the same nylon material
that they make stockings out of. But you could always see
the slight rise under the fabrics that encased her third left
finger. At times when I meant to comfort her, I held her hand.
It seemed to help, that sembalance of contact. Of knowing
another person was there looking out for you. I know it helped
me.
I remeber really stupid moments. Like how we'd sit in the
den and drink a beer. She would tongue the final drop from
her bottle, slick pink flesh darting out to lick the ale ...
one of the most erotic things I've ever seen. When we were
alone, I didn't care if she didn't wear her gloves, and I
could see that ring. It was hammered of thin silver and the
deep blue, deep as her accent, of the oval sapphire surrounded
by two intricate flowers. I never really was sure where she
got that ring. I don't remember her wearing any rings when
she took off her gloves to put them by the heater back in
the ice waste outside of Laughlin City. I do recall however
that when she flexed her fingers thin tendons scratched the
underside of her skin.
I also retain this memory of a time when she coaxed me into
going with her to the fair in Salem Center. They had this
game with water riffles, where if you get some much water
in your target you get a prize. We bet each other who would
win and played. I was beating her and letting her know it,
next thing I know the little vixen's spraying me with
the water gun. Laughing at me and my wet self, as I gave her
the teddy bear I'd won from the game and walked off trying
to look angry even though I was really smirking at her prank.
The ugly brown thing's still sitting on her bed.
That was the last time she went with me to the fair. After
that she went with the guy Storm brought home. I gave a silent
cheer everytime he got to close and she pushed him away. Because
she never pushed me away. I never thought he was very good
for her, good in a fight, yes, but for her. Until the day
I noticed she didn't push him away and I realized her made
her happy, and she like wise.
I could've impaled that red-eyed ass the day I found him
cat napping on her bed, the teddy bear I'd given her next
to him, dirty shoes messing up the dark blue sheets of her
bed. I completly ignored the fact that I'd done the same thing
countless times. I noticed Rogue wasn't in there with him,
though her faint sleepy scent still lingered.
I laughed at her flirting/insults geared towards him. I sneered
at his cockiness. It was sometime ago that I understood I
was a bit jealous of their relationship, not because I wanted
Rogue, though now I know I did, but because I was unwilling
to share. She was my little paradise, my drinking buddy, my
Kung Fu movie partner.
One night when she was 18 and I had just come back for the
second time I found her walking out the door, dressed for
something that came out of a really bad S&M flick ...
or a really good one. Long streaked hair curled and but up
in a messily artistic manner, shiny vinyl panties and bra
and the rest of her covered in a shiny black film I would
later learn to be liquid latex. Her legs long and slim, lightly
muscled from long hours in the Danger Room, ampale cleavage
incased in sex shop fantasy clothing.
The X women are notoriously beautiful, each in their own
way, Jean was that sophisticated type, Ororo's the exotic
one, Betsy's that agressive beauty I used to find extremly
attractive, but Rogue's the one with the innocent beauty.
Though standing before me dressed like that she didn't look
very innocent. She blushed and instantly the purity was back
and I briefly entertained the mental image of her with a whip
and some stilletos.
"It ain't polite ta stare, shugah" she said fetching her
keys of the black '67 BTX we rebuilt together last year.
"Ain't ain't a word, and you ain't goin out dressed like
that."
"An' why not?" She looked slightly offended.
"You look like a hooker" she flinched, I didn't regreat it.
"It's Halloween, I'm going to a party with Gwen" Gwen was
a mutant she'd meet outside the school, worked in a tattoo
parler and had given her, her first tattoo, a black lotus
on the small of her back. I'd accidently seen it when she'd
bent over to pick something up and the hip huggers she had
been wearing allowed for a peek. I'd mentioned it and she
proudly displayed it to me.
"You couldn't dress up as a witch?"
She sighed, "Halloween is about dressing up as you aren't"
"I thought it was a pagan holiday celebrating the dead."
She giggled and said "You've been hangin 'round Hank to much"
With that she left.Two weeks later Remy showed up.
I remember so many things. Most about her. She became a regualr
firecracker once she'd come out of her withdrawl. Full of
life, but briming with that purple logic that would have made
Lovecraft proud. She cared for me, she cared for others. I
don't think she cared for herself though, not for a long time.
That's one of the few things I'm willing to credit Remy with.
He made her care about herself because he cared about her.
I continue to walk the massaive acreage of Xavier's estate.
I can smell the oreintal tang of blooming flowers in the Japanese
Gardens. I ca also hear a car or two traveling the somewhat
far off Graymalkin Lane. I'm geeting close.
I remember her final night clearest though. We were on mission,
Rogue, Gambit and I. Storm had revoked her original order
that I stay at the mansion as a "modicum of contact" her words
not mine. Remy flat out ignored Rogue's plea that he remain
behind as well. Dangerous mission. But we are dangerous
people.
So we made it to this house that was rumored to hold the
third volume of Irene Adler's Diaries. So we go in, everything's
pretty quiet didn't like it. The house was in the middle of
the sticks in Northern Florida, kinda swamp kinda forest.
I didn't smell anybody as we entered, there hadn't been for
some time, so we proceeded.
The house was dirty, and I realized while scoping out the
living room that the lamp shades were made of skin. I sniffed
and frowned. Human skin. I remembered a story Rogue had told
me once a long time ago, when she went through her detective
phase, about a man in Wisconson named Ed Gein. He'd skin women
and dry their flesh into leather use it at furniture. Same
thing here. We split up because the house was monsterous.
Rogue headed for the back, Gambit down the hallway I assume
lead to bed rooms. I scoped out the front and middle section.
I found a several razor blades from a package stained with
rancid sepia blood, dried and cracked, in a small file tin
that had been spray painted black. Gambit latter mentioned
he'd found Kiddy Porn in the closet. We never found out what
Rogue found in the back.
I heard a screen door slam against its jamb, and looked up
and caught the malodrous air, underlined with a mascoline
odur. I shouted for the others to get out, Remy appeared first
out of the hallway he'd begun to search. I heard Rogue's heels
click on the teraza flooring as she made the long dash to
the front. She finally appeared, pony tail barely holding
on to the razed auburn and white curls she hadn't had time
to straighten.
She was almost to us when he stepped out of the kitchen next
to her. Declan Wilona. An androgynous man with feathered black
hair, I knew was dyed from the chemical smell, and white irises.
Mutant. Never figured out his power don't care anymore. Blood
dripped down his face from where he'd peeled his eyebrows
of with a razor. Dressed in a leather tunic that buckled across
the chest and sleaved his spider thin arms. Declan shoved
Rogue against the wall. She kicked back with her boots, I
dimly recognized as the ones she bought last year in the summer.
He moved fast and I don't know why I didn't move then, I could
have helped her. Saved her. He moved behind her and Rogue
stopped fighting back. Her eyes dulled and focased on the
two of us, but with out concentration. He pressed a bare hand
to her face, his skin almost as pale as hers.
"Pretty, pretty" he muttered in to her neck, before he wrentched
it to the side violently. Her body tried to follow, but failed,
and she hit the floor. Her skull making a loud pop sound against
the hard floor leaking blood from the temple, but she was
already gone. Her eyes never closed though. Chartruse and
scared. They had to use a glue like substance to keep them
closed I could smell it at the funneral, faintly acrylic.
She'd been laid to rest holding scarlet chrysanthemums, that
Storm and I'd known she liked.I don't know why she didn't
get one of those instead of a black lotus for a tattoo. I
also don't like the fact that they'll rot down there ontop
of her chest, I don't think I can picture her rotting. I wonder
if I dig her up in a year if she'll still be as fresh as the
day I kicked her out then invited her back into the truck.
I lunged at Declan my middle claw extended only. It slide
into his cranium with a slick slide and retracted pulling
with it gummy hard gray brain matter. I was shuddering at
killing him so fast, should have drawn it out. Remy was pulling
her up. And I winced at the twisted condition her neck was
in and then I saw a familair dull metal chain. The dog tags.
I reached down, pushing Remy out of the way, he was dumb founded
and probably in shock. I grabbed her by jaw and yanked, straightning
out the contorted column and hearing the unnerving sound of
grating vertebra.
I'm here. There a small deadend path adjacent to the Japanese
Gardens that is secluded and surrounded by large trees that
stnad as sentinals. At the bottom of the dead end is where
we buried her. After several people began occuping her hidding
place on the roof, she started coming here instead. Remy thought
it fit. He was right. Thats where I found him. standing on
the freshly turned soil, a richer brown than the rest. Fingering
her sapphire ring. He'd kept it. I couldn't fault him. I might
have done the same thing if I'd thought about it. Instead
I had my tag returned. Ororo had brought it to me last night,
she'd traded that for a pretty antique garnet and silver necklace.
I wonder for a moment if he'd given her the ring but then
disreguarded it as the memory returned of her complaining
as she got the ring snagged while trying to take off her glove.
That'd been before Gambit showed up.
He was perched on his haunches twirling the ring around in
goved palms. Duster spread out around him. He looked up at
me, already red eyes surrounded by tear scortched skin. He
rose to his full hieght, a little taller than me. It was then
I realized how tiny Rogue had been -- she only reached to
my shoulders and I'm 6'1. He frowned.
"You should've known he was in dere, homme."
I stared, saying nothing because I knew it was true.
fini
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