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FIC: Prognostications (PG13)

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  • Jengrrrl
    Title: Prognostications Author: Jengrrrl Rating: PG13, for slight sexual references Disclaimer: Not mine Archived: Disquieting Muses
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 26, 2001
      Title: Prognostications
      Author: Jengrrrl
      Rating: PG13, for slight sexual references
      Disclaimer: Not mine
      Archived: Disquieting Muses (www.wolverineandrogue.com/muses) and list
      Warning: character death
      Author's Note: I don't know what brought this on. I apologize ahead of
      Thanks (or not, depending on how you view this): Actually, I do know what
      brought this on. Thanks to Bjork and Dancer in the Dark, for affecting me
      like no other actor or movie have in a long time. This is the unhappy
      result. Short but terrible.


      She didn�t think she believed in God after it started. It was brief and
      ludicrous considering the amount of time she had to ponder it, but she
      thought she had stopped believing long ago, perhaps when she�d first
      discovered her mutation, perhaps after her eight months on the road,
      perhaps after she was almost killed the first time.

      Life, they (who? Xavier? Jean? Scott?) say is never fair. Or particularly
      happy, she added whenever she heard it. Happiness was something she knew
      very little about. Pure joy was reserved for people back in Meridian, with
      their simple lives and white picket fences, disrupted only when their
      children became monsters. Pure joy, happiness � these were hard to come by.
      Mutants had the distinct disadvantage of being the dredges of society.
      This hardly ever led to felicity.

      She had experienced what she later termed �moments�. These were brief,
      rare, and she grasped at them with the same ferocity of a drowning man
      grasping a lifesaver. She tried to pretend she wasn�t expecting all along
      for the moment to end. When it did, she was less disappointed than proven

      Lists were made and items compared and dissected and the experiments always
      showed she was right. This all happened in seconds; she didn�t have much

      Exhibit A � Family. She had lost it. Completely. The moment she exited the
      door, carrying the duffel, sweating underneath a moth-eaten coat, trying
      hard not to cry, she lost them. There was mother and father and aunts and
      grandparents and people she never, ever got to see again. She would be a
      liar if she said she didn�t miss them, that she wouldn�t give anything to
      see them one last time. And she didn�t want to be a liar � not then.

      Exhibit B � Logan. Simple man, strangely honorable and the one person she
      trusted with everything she had.

      They had been violently happy while together and it had been one of the few
      times she had not been waiting for it to end, but dreaded it nonetheless.
      He was with her whenever he was in the mansion. He slept in her bed, ate
      beside her. They did things she never dreamed about and wouldn�t have
      expected from him. When they made love, and he thrust into her the first
      time she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the impending
      orgasm, fearing it because it marked the end of the union. She feared it
      almost as much as she feared his departures � forays into Canada, searches
      for his past. She had to bite her tongue whenever he said good-bye to keep
      herself from asking why he had to know anything about his past at all.
      Wasn�t the future good enough?

      When he didn�t come back for a year, then two, she figured someone had
      finally been able to take down the Wolverine. She locked herself in her
      room, cried for a day and shook herself off. She reminded herself that pure
      joy wasn�t for her and that her time of happiness had come to its logical

      Exhibit C � The End. Stupid, really. The first bullet ripped through her
      thigh and she was so surprised, so pained, she fell to her knees instantly.
      This wasn�t supposed to happen. A human wasn�t supposed to be able to kill
      her. Then she remembered that old axiom: life isn�t fair. Or happy, she
      added. What a waste, she thought, a life so unfulfilled it leaves no mark,
      but comes and goes like a soft breeze, leaving little in its wake but the
      rustling of leaves. She didn�t fight it, because it was all she had
      prognosticated, all that was inevitable. No, she didn't think she could
      believe in God and thought it was ludicrous those thoughts would fill her
      mind then. Sad, how little she had to put on her lists. She didn�t feel the
      second bullet as it entered her cranium and disconnected her brain from her

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