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"Counting Backwards" R; Rogue (Logan); 1/5

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  • Molly
    Note: Depending on the font size, this story is around 40 pages long. I’m posting the first two parts today, and the rest will be forthcoming over the next
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 9, 2001
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      Note: Depending on the font size, this story is around
      40 pages long. I�m posting the first two parts today,
      and the rest will be forthcoming over the next day or
      two.

      Counting Backwards (1/5)
      by Molly
      January 2001

      Rogue ties up loose ends in her life.

      Rated R; characters portrayed to not belong to me, and
      I mean no infringement. List archive and those with
      previous permission.

      Many, *many* thanks to Elizabeth and Diebin for
      encouraging this and seeing it through. And in
      explanation, this story grew out of a brief mention of
      Rogue in �Stand Still, Time�; I decided to play with
      the idea of how that would work out. However, this is
      not a sequel, and only has marginal connections to the
      other story, so it stands alone easily. Any and all
      feedback is much appreciated.

      ***
      4. �Long is the way, and hard, that out of Hell leads
      up to light.� -- Milton, �Paradise Lost�

      Let the last vestiges of innocence in her fade, so she
      can be at rest.�

      Let them, because she�s tried everything else. Hating
      the taste of the cigars she craves; trying to remember
      the good things about a family she�d rather forget;
      loving the people at a school she resents and-- dare
      she let him admit what even he never put into
      words�hates; forcing smiles when she sees Charles--
      she shouldn�t call him that-- and arguing futilely
      with herself, trying to preserve a sense of childhood
      that wants to flee at the rare sight of Logan.�

      Logan, god Logan�it feels more than narcissistic, but
      she doesn�t think this sort of thing has ever had a
      word all to itself. She cries on alternate nights and
      there is nothing to be done.�

      Nothing, save innocence be damned.�

      She plays with bits of metal, yearns to have them
      still within her control, and she hates the accidental
      bruises that just refuse to heal, or to never truly
      form. She indulges in specially cooked ryby, which
      Mama�no, no, Matka, Mama�s back in Mississippi�used to
      make so well.�

      She went to the prison once, long ago and it seems
      only yesterday; perhaps it was last week. They
      wouldn�t let her go in, wouldn�t let her close enough
      for one more touch, just one more relieving touch from
      someone she knows well enough for it to not be a
      shock. She watched him from the guard booth, a
      deity-like fishbowl if ever there were. But that was
      wrong; she wasn�t in the bowl. There sat Magneto,
      rolling a plastic pawn between table and forefinger,
      and he looked up and saw her and he smiled.�

      She stopped smiling at Charles that day. Hasn�t since.
      Because he thinks he knows and he�s right, it�s true;
      she�s come to hate him. He never says a word. It�s
      just there, in the way his eyes narrow in grief as
      others would in anger, every time he sees her. She
      hates that look like she hates him; she stops looking
      at him when they talk.�

      Which isn�t often, because she doesn�t talk much
      anymore. She�s tired of battling the other voices to
      find her own�she gives up the fight and they come
      back, and she stops looking at him.�

      She thinks she has a plan. She thinks God�and where
      was *he*, anyway�she thinks God, the bag is packed and
      tomorrow� tomorrow. Logan hates the place and Magneto
      hates him, and she�s little in her own head with a
      majority that always wins, and so she leaves. She
      leaves him, and all he stands for.�

      She can�t do it anymore. Innocence just won�t give
      up.�



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