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Stories by Northlight

On one bright, beautiful morning, the X-Men awaken to face their deadliest foe ever: bad hair.

"Inquiring Minds"
A mysterious figure decides to "tell all" about the secret lives of the X-Men in a bestselling book.

"Just in Time for Christmas"
Gambit is rescued in Antarctica -- by Santa Claus?

"Love and Pain"
Stuck in the "waiting room" between appearances in their respective series, Gambit and Angel (from Buffy the Vampire Slayer) compare notes on their respective problems.

"Reunions and Other Troubles"
The sequel to "Love and Pain," Gambit and Angel escape from Limbo and are reunited with their respective love interests.

"Maybe Just a Little Strange"
The true origin of Wolverine is revealed.

"Nothing More"
In response to Alara Rogers' challenge to kill off one's favorite character, Northlight writes her own version of Rogue's death as a result of Dr. Agee's "cure."

"Of Cooties and Dice"
Rogue, Jean and Storm get a little too involved in their board game.

"One of Those Days"
An evil villain attacks -- and so does Murphy's Law, as the X-Men suffer multiple "insignificant" inconveniences on their way to the battle.

Sitting on the roof, Rogue looks back on what really happened in Antarctica as she tries to avoid the other X-Men.

"Searching for Justice"
A man tries to seek justice for the death of his sister as a result of Dr. Agee's "cure."

A woman named Lindsey, with the unique power of appearing to be whoever someone else wants them to be, meets a frantic woman on the street and walks into another case of mistaken identity.

"Skin Crawl"
A unique take on Rogue's feelings toward her powers.

"Small Problems"
Rogue awakens to the incessantly annoying attempts of a misguided mosquito to get a morning snack.

Realizing the sheer stupidity of fighting in the dead heat of summer, Magneto and the X-Men decide to get slushies together. Since TheAudience still needs to be entertained, the PTB find replacements for the heroes and villain.

"Summer Vacation"
In a follow-up to "Substitutions," the X-Men prepare to go on a real vacation and leave their "replacements" in charge of the Mansion.

"That's What Happens"
Wondering about the practicality of Rogue's skimpy little outfit in UXM 353-4, Northlight writes her version of what could happen if Rogue's not careful...

"The Super Beings Bureau Saga"
A series of short stories about the Super Beings Bureau, someplace all super-powered types have to visit at one point or another.

"The Susan Smith Show"
A series of talk shows in which various super hero-types discuss the issues that affect their lives.

For someone like Rogue, the sense of touch can mean any number of things.

"Untitled Random Mutterings"
A series of vignettes in which Rogue deals with engagement, marriage, parenthood and growing older.

"Watching from a Distance"
We all know how the heroes feel. But how about their parents? This story is from Rogue's mother's perspective, as she watches her daughter grow up through news reports and newspaper headlines.


Web site: Northlight's Page

Title: Touch
Author: Northlight
Summary: Touch can mean many different things...
Distribution: If you already have any of my stuff, go right ahead. If not, ask and I'll say yes. Also available at
Disclaimer: If you really can't figure it out on your own, Marvel owns all.
Note: Yep, it's jumpy, choppy writing again. My favourite :)
Date: Aug. 31, 1999


She said that she wanted to touch, to reach out, skin to skin. She said that she wanted to press cold fingers into heated skin and feel the draw of body heat rather than the cascade of memories not her own. She said that she longed to hold hands; to pull somebody into her arms, an unplanned explosion of sentiment demanding physical expression; to loose herself among a crowd on a hot summer day with bare expanses of leg and arm without holding herself tense, fearful, waiting for the accidental brush of flesh against flesh.

She told her friends that she desired to be touched without the barrier of cloth between flesh and flesh. She told her teammates that she longed for touch. And she told herself most of all.

Touch was something to be wished for, longed for, dreamed of ... hand in hand, lips against lips, waking up from a nightmare to be enfolded in a comforting hug. She wanted the comfort, the belonging, all encompassed by simple human touch.

She saw them touch, carefree, unnoticed. Memories, wispy, flimsy things that clung to her long after the sharp pain of another's conciousness had drained away -- they spoke of touch, casual, comforting, friendly, loving, pleasurable ... And she longed for each.

She spoke of the agony of isolation, held apart from others by hungry flesh that drank the essence of those around her. She cried with the desire to be held.

And she spoke and she cried, she dreamed and she longed for touch ... but never did she fight and work and train until her powers bowed to her command. She dreamed of flesh and flesh, and the dreams were safe. She saw touch, casual, comforting, friendly, loving, pleasurable ... but those were not hers.

She saw that touch could be each, but her body knew the feel of another touch. Angry and hateful and hurting; hands moving against skin that shuddered away from touch; fearful and empty and hurting crawling in on herself, trying to scramble away from the feel of flesh against flesh.

They touched, easy, happy, loving, and she longed for each. But her body and heart and mind knew of another touch ... and screamed against the thought of flesh, free and normal and touchable. Vulnerable flesh, open friendly, loving touch ... and hateful and hurting.

Touch was a dream, a vision of acceptance and love. Touch was a memory, standing alone and isolated, cowering into herself until the pain and fear and hate exploded to life against skin that could do nothing but bruise and bleed and tear.

She told her friends that she dreamed of touch. She told her teammates that she longed for touch. And she told herself most of all. Because touch was loving and kind and normal and she was strong and brave and there was nothing wrong!

And she longed for touch, safe behind flesh that would not be touched.




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