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Someone on Gambit Guild asked the question
of how Gambit could be pledging his eternal love for Rogue
in X-Men while (at the same time) boinking a girl named Minnie
in his own series. Now, you and I know that it's just editorial
carelessness (bordering on disdain) but I must admit that
editorial carelessness does tend to bring out the writer in
me, so here's my attempt to explain it. Vignette angst, if
you want.
For those who read Gambit #25, consider this thought process
as happening just before the phone rings on the last page.
And this isn't the fic I'm writing as per my Dark Phoenix
questions (thanks for the many replies). That's coming out
as soon as I can work out a way to get Hank and Bobby on the
moon together (not as easy as it sounds ). And maybe when
the temperature drops - it was 50 degrees C at my place today
- for those that only speak Imperial that's about 120 degrees
F. Sitting in front of a computer is not that alluring, as
you can imagine.
Anyway, on with the tale. PG-rated, very mild.
Disclaimer: Marvel's, blah blah blah. I'll care more
if they do.
I'm just so tired.
It's been so long that I can't even remember when being in
love stopped being fun.
It used to be fun, I know that. I remember fighting with
Belle - mon Dieu, but she had a temper - but I remember
how much fun we used to have together as well. I remember
it with you, as well, remember dancing and flirting and dating
and laughing til we were fit to bust.
I just can't remember the last time that was.
I know we've been pledging our love a lot lately. Earnest
talks over long dinners, anguished gazes above the heads of
team-mates, lots of angst and star-crossed lover stuff. But
I honestly don't remember the last time we laughed together.
I don't know whether that makes me want to laugh or cry.
Better laugh, I think. If I start crying over it, I might
just never stop.
Maybe it'd be better if you hadn't forgiven me. I'd understand
it then. There'd be a reason. But you've forgiven me everything,
forgiven me things I don't think should be forgiven, merde,
you've forgiven me things I don't think I've even done.
So why the hell do you keep pushing me away?
I know about the whole powers, can't touch, absorb me til
I die thing. It's not like you haven't shoved that down my
throat every single day we've been together.
And yeah, so they're out of control at the moment. Another
good reason to push me away - after all, it's not like I've
got any experience with out-of-control powers, non?
Oh, that's right, you're about to do something dangerous
with the team retrieving Destiny's diaries. Of course that
should mean I should be sent as far away from you as possible
because it's not like I know how to deal with anything dangerous.
Oh, and merci for undermining my authority in front of my
team, too.
Or is it being head of the Thieves Guild that you don't like?
Or the colour of my hair? Or my aftershave? Or the breakfast
cereal I eat? What is it that makes you push me away from
you all the time?
Because you don't want me near you because you might hurt
me and then you'll just die?
Did you start thinking that way after the - actually how
many times have you tried to murder me so far?
And the worst of it all is that I still love you so much
that sometimes I think my heart will burst with it. Irony
is a bitch like that.
It's just too hard. I can't do this any more. I can't
keep hurting like this, can't keep being this tired. Everything
inside is churning all the time, all this heat and passion
and love like wildfire, and I just don't want to deal with
it any more.
I don't want to have the only woman in my life to love me
so much she'll die for it, but never, ever let me close enough
to touch her.
I want . . .
. . . the taste of a mouth on mine
. . . someone who laughs when I flirt with them
. . . a body next to mine in bed
. . . better yet, someone who rolls over in the night - *into*
my arms
. . . a hand drifting over my chest
. . . a kiss on the top of the head when I get given a coffee
. . . to be tickled
. . . a conversation in a restaurant that revolves around
basketball
. . . or shopping - just so long as it's not about noble
love and mutant rights
You know, it's finally got to the stage where all I want
is someone who doesn't take me all that seriously. Maybe then
I won't be so angry all the time. And so very tired.
So now there's Minnie.
I want her.
She wants me.
It's not love - it's not even close - but it's simple and
it's fun and that's all either of us wants out of it.
It isn't love but it gives me something that love - that
you - haven't given me for a long time.
Peace.
The End
On that note, I should add that X-Men
#109 sucked beyond earthly belief. Hank & Trish Tilby? Nightcrawler
& Cerise???? And the Remy/Rogue thing is just becoming more
ghastly with each hideous attempt to amp up the angst. I'm
giving them one more issue and then I'm dumping them and saving
up my money to buy Neil Gaiman TPBs instead.
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