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FIC: Inviolate (1/1)

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  • Lshallot@juno.com
    Title: Inviolate (1/1) Author: Morgan R. Email: Lshallot@juno.com Rating: R Summary: A new mutant comes to the mansion; L/R angst (of course) Feedback:
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 9, 2001
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      Title: Inviolate (1/1)
      Author: Morgan R.
      Email: Lshallot@...
      Rating: R
      Summary: A new mutant comes to the mansion; L/R angst (of course)
      Feedback: Oh, how I would adore it.
      Author's Note: My first foray in fanfic on this list- hope you enjoy.
      In an painful way.

      ****

      Yes, it was coming. Slowly, furtively, but she only had to wait, and
      soon she would know. She would know enough, know too much, stop
      wondering and just understand...

      She would stare at his hands. Strong, incredibly strong hands, fingers
      so quick and rough and possible of such selfless gentleness that she
      often choked when she thought of it. Hands filled with metal but looking
      like something too perfect, and when it came, she would know them. She
      would touch his fingers with her own, no cloth between, and that promise
      of ecstasy kept a smile hovering around her mouth. That somedaysoon kept
      her going, kept her hoping, dreaming.

      And she saw it in his eyes, and it only made her more determined. If his
      hands moved in her direction, only for an instant, she knew that he was
      waiting for the time when he wouldn't have to hold back, remember
      himself. Once her unleashed power was kept under lock and key, then he
      could shed his ill fitting cloak of self-control, and everything could be
      right again. There were images in the way he said her name, the ironic
      way he flirted with other women, making sure she was watching, making
      sure she knew that he did it to entertain her while they perched on the
      edge.

      If looking at his hands was overpowering, then touching them would be
      unimaginable. If hearing him say "Marie," in the most normal of
      circumstances made her lightheaded, she would barely be able to survive
      hearing him gasp it.

      And when hands touched and he whispered her name-

      It would all be worth it. Waiting, holding, trying.

      Wanting.

      Escape was imminent, she was getting out, getting free...

      ****

      A girl with blonde hair and silver eyes was walking up the drive. The
      blood on her face was almost dry, and the purple bruises on her pale skin
      seemed to be formed in some complicated pattern. The violet streaks and
      splotches looked painted on, and the deep red sluggishly flowing from
      multiple gashes only made the color look lovelier, starker. With her
      blood so busy making art on her surface, it had drained away from her
      cheeks, which were as white as the moon that glittered in her metallic
      irises.

      Her limp had been steadily worsening for the past few miles, ever since
      she had been forced to abandon her car. Apart from the everpresent pain
      humming through her body, she had escaped barefooted, and her bloody
      footprints were shining wet on the dark pavement.

      Every step was agony, every breath was worse. She looked a very
      incarnation of misery.

      But the smile on her bloodied mouth was triumphant, expectant. Almost
      mad in its incongruity on her ravaged face.

      Then there were the words, quiet in the evening, echoing in her memory,
      treading the same measure as her jolting steps.

      "Let me in let me in let me in let me in..."

      ****

      It was only snatches of conversation, but they fell into Rogue's ears
      with jagged surfaces.

      "...found out she was a mutant..."

      She wanted to concentrate, because she was so close. Her skin was
      straining, hoping, but she couldn't focus over the sounds of footsteps
      running through the mansion halls, the horrified whispers that floated
      into her hearing.

      "...lost so much blood..."

      She tried to close her eyes, see his hands. Block everything out until
      she found the way.

      "...she knew the men?"

      Somewhere in herself, she was caring about what had happened, who was
      hurting. But if selfishness could fix her, save her from constant cloth,
      then she could wait to ache for someone else.

      "...cut the ropes..."

      Giving up her own room as a place for meditation, she walked into the
      hallway, looking around furtively. Creeping down the main staircase, she
      decided she would go out into the woods, where everything was natural and
      genetically conventional, and she would try to become the same. She
      needed to hold his hands, and if she had to ignore Scott's newly grim jaw
      to do it, she would. He was listening to Jean's weary words by the front
      door, and Rogue was determined to care later, after-

      "...rape."

      Her walls were not high enough, so she stumbled at the word.

      Jean was coming closer, and Rogue's dreams of sensation would have to
      wait for another day, because this time the words were in her direction.

      "Rogue? A girl came to the mansion for help last night."

      She had only had metal inside her skin once, so it wouldn't hold her neck
      up as she listened with a bent head.

      ****

      Blonde hair in moonlight again, but this time she was indoors, the light
      slanting down a midnight hallway. Blood could be washed but not
      forgotten, so she walked with just as much purpose as before. Purple and
      silver and remembered dread kept her footsteps quiet, but her breathing
      was shallow from sheer excitement. The words, however quiet, were
      unchanged.

      "Let me in let me in let me in let me in..."

      Slipping through the door, she sighed in relief. If only there could be
      safety like this for everyone who had suffered the same, the same promise
      of complete protection.

      To think- to see hands, grasping, groping, grabbing, and know that they
      couldn't touch. They could never touch, not without knowing a pain more
      horrific than they could ever inflict. Corded muscles and cold eyes
      would keep their distance, and she would be inviolate inside new pale
      skin.

      She walked to the edge of Rogue's bed, smiling down at the girl's
      sleeping face, unmarred by bruise or blood. Her white streak of hair was
      even brighter than her own blonde, and she would be inside, covered up,
      protected forever.

      With a sigh she had been holding in since she heard them pounding on the
      front door of her house, she knelt beside the bed. Safety, blissful
      safety, forever lasting longer than fear. And with her knowledge, she
      could protect the young woman from ever knowing the same.

      Her hand was hovering over Rogue's neck as her own face came closer to
      the other girl's cheek. All she had to do was hold on long enough, slip
      in before anyone could stop her, and then, oh, then-

      She kissed Rogue's cheek tenderly, as her hand wrapped around her neck.

      ****

      Rogue's screams rang throughout the mansion. Doors slammed open,
      footsteps ran in her direction, but her hysteria did not diminish.

      When Logan finally slashed open the door, the first thing he noticed was
      the smell of death in the room. Blonde hair was fanned out on the dark
      carpeting, and the smile on the dead girl's face was as horrible a thing
      as he had ever seen...

      ...until he looked into Rogue's eyes.

      At the sight of Logan, his beloved hands reaching in her direction, some
      new fear snapped inside her head. She backed away, eyes wide, screams
      unending, desire drowned in someone else's lust for protection. His
      fingers fell to his side and she felt a relief she did not want, a
      bitterness that tasted like the blood inside her mouth.

      'Let me in,' had become "Get her OUT!" but there was nothing to be done,
      no way to evict a self from Rogue's overflowing mind.

      "Marie," he gasped.

      She could barely survive the hearing of it.

      ****
      finis




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