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FF: First Night (5/14)

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  • Melissa Flores
    Title: First Night Author: Melissa Flores -mistyjox@hotmail.com Genre: Crossover - Angel: The Series, X-men: the Movie Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Logan/Rogue,
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 12, 2001
      Title: First Night
      Author: Melissa Flores -mistyjox@...
      Genre: Crossover - Angel: The Series, X-men: the Movie
      Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Logan/Rogue, General ensemble

      Rating: R for violence, sexual situations, and language.
      (Which happens when you get Logan in your head) Now aren�t
      I just a decadent soul?

      Summary: When Cordelia and Rogue are whisked away by the
      Brotherhood, who are once again intent on 'saving' the
      mutant kind, Angel Investigations and the X-Men must team
      up to save them, and yes, the world. Again.
      Distribution: Stoic Simplicity,
      http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/mistiec, list archives.
      Everyone else, please ask. J
      Spoilers: X-Men: the movie, Angel: The Series, second
      season finale.

      Notes: Remember the whole "not too distant" future thing?
      Let's disregard that for now. We'll just say that the not
      too distant future is now, at least a year from now, in
      Angel's time.

      Other notes: This is a LONG sucker, registered at about ...
      oh... 190 pages from start to finish. So I�ll only be
      posting two chapters a day, so as not to overwhelm your
      inboxes. This is a crossover, but I wrote it as well as I
      could have so that even if you are not familiar with X-Men,
      or Angel, you can read the story and not feel lost.

      That at least, is my intention. I hope.

      Disclaimer : Um, these characters are not mine. I just
      played with them. So ... yeah.
      Jenn, Christie, Shaz - thanks.


      Chapter Five

      Wesley put the pen down.

      His eyes were stinging and watery, his mind was reeling
      with unfiltered emotions and he knew that finding the
      discipline he needed to concentrate was impossible.

      How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on a threat
      they knew absolutely nothing about when Cordelia was in
      such immense pain?

      �Something wrong?�

      The velvety voice of Storm broke into his thoughts, and he
      pulled his hands from his face to find her gazing curiously
      at him, face placid and calm.

      �Well my friend is bloody dying on the table, so yes I
      believe something is wrong,� he snapped. Immediately he
      winced, closing his eyes when he saw her look away, pursing
      her lips.

      �I�m sorry,� he whispered, closing the book and removing
      his glasses, letting out an agonized groan. �You�ve been
      nothing but kind-�

      She didn�t say a word, merely stared at him from across the
      small table, head cocked and resting against one slender

      Her gaze never left his face, and after a moment, he found
      it unnerving, running his hands through his frazzled hair
      before looking at her.

      �What are you staring at?�

      She shrugged slightly. �You have a hidden strength. I find
      that intriguing.� When he blinked, she smiled, the
      expression a tad sheepish. �Forgive me. I like to observe.
      That young lady in there, she is your heart.�


      �Your group�s heart. Angel, he is the soul. The others I�m
      afraid I do not know enough about to find what part they
      play. But, you are the strength, the wisdom.�

      Her voice had a soft, tuneful quality, tone lilting and
      changing almost as if in song, and even as his heart
      shuddered at the sheer beauty of Storm, he still felt the
      pang inside of him at her words.

      He shook his head, biting his lower lip and reopening the
      book. �You are mistaken, Ororo. Wisdom and strength are two
      of my weaknesses.�

      �I think you don�t give yourself enough credit.� She had an
      accent. African, maybe? Slender fingers slid through the
      long white locks and she moved gracefully, stretching back
      in the chair in the dark library, craning her neck slightly
      as she looked at him, brilliant eyes boring into him.
      �Strength and wisdom is not won by brute force, nor is it
      something anyone can attain. It lies dormant, in the
      quietness of one�s movements, in someone�s eyes or in their
      faces. In their actions. When Cordelia looked into your
      eyes she saw your fear and it affected her. She turns to
      you for strength.�

      He wasn�t aware his hand was trembling until he looked down
      at the pencil shuddering against the table. He took a
      breath, stilled it, and then looked up at Ororo Munroe.

      �Why exactly are you creating the aura of psychobabble?� he
      asked. The tone wasn�t angry, but frustrated, and she
      didn�t seem offended.

      �I�m just letting you know that the strength you seek, the
      discipline, is inside of you. The others need you because
      of it.� She leaned forward, and her darker toned hand
      covered his palm. �Perhaps you don�t feel it now but it
      will come when you need it. And the wisdom for the choices,
      they are a part of it.� He only stared at her, and a small
      sliver of a smile emerged. �I just felt you needed someone
      to point that out.�

      His throat was quite dry, and when he took a second to
      swallow to get the moisture back so he could reply, the
      door opened, and the moment was lost when Storm�s brilliant
      orbs left his to land on the red-eyed French mutant.

      �Goddess,� he greeted, his eyes riveted on the contact of
      her hand on Wesley�s. Her hand drifted away as she pushed
      away from the table, a questioning look in her eyes.

      �What is it, Remy?�

      He came forward, casting Wesley a glare that wasn�t exactly
      hospitable as he lay a hand on Ororo�s shoulder. �Jean. She
      wants us all in the room.�

      Storm immediately nodded, gathering her things. �I�ll be
      just a minute.�

      �Him, too.�

      �I have a name,� Wesley bristled, rolling his eyes as he
      got up, walking with him out of the door.


      When Erik was a child, he found himself without a home, and
      without a family, nursing a broken heart and a splintered

      When he was older, he had walked, barefoot, in the mud, his
      body beaten and broken as he stepped out of the iron gates
      and looked up into the dark gray sky to find the officers
      who freed him staring at him with barely masked sympathy.

      As a teenager, he had found nowhere to go and nothing to do
      but live with the haunted memories of his past, forever
      fearing, forever hating-

      At nights the dreams still came.

      He never forgot.

      That was the promise he had made to himself long ago,
      hidden in his cell, almost naked and shivering with pain,
      lips ice-blue and mind reeling, and his hand reached for
      the metal chair and it bent and his eyes had glazed over
      with hate and he had made the promise to himself.

      He would never forget.

      He was still, fingers locked into a fist, leaning on the
      cold, gleaming metal, his body weary with age and heavy
      with heart. The tick, tick, tick of the metal balls that
      swung back and forth on his table served as a welcome
      facilitation to his thoughts.

      Perhaps it was better when he didn�t know. When he didn�t
      know them and only knew Charles, and had blocked away the
      memories of friendship, and had only the purpose, the
      future of mankind to contend with.

      Perhaps if he hadn�t seen the dark eyes, the white streak,
      the complete and utter fear he had instilled in the child
      who should have been sacrificed, the woman who had once
      cried and screamed. Perhaps if he hadn�t seen the other
      woman, barely out of her teens, in splintering pain,
      perhaps if he wasn�t struck with the memories of a boy in a
      camp who had never known true hell until the moment the
      butt of the rifle struck him and he fell, close to death,
      in the mud, the dirt and the water sticking in his throat
      and making him choke.

      The memories slid through him and the place in his chest
      ached, and he swallowed, and suddenly everything was all
      right again, and the belief was fermented in his heart and
      he knew that the choices he made were the right ones.

      Because he would never forget.


      Rogue knew he could smell her before she came into the
      conference room. She heard the hitch of his breath, could
      see him shuffle as she stepped into the doorway.

      But his eyes revealed nothing when he focused on her. They
      were the same deep, dark color. The intensity was always
      there, even when he smiled the feral grin that made him

      She also knew he could hear the way her heart raced, could
      smell the sweat on her palms and could mostly like see the
      way her breathing changed when suddenly she was struck with
      memories of a hard body rubbing against hers-

      She swallowed as she gripped the doorway.

      Shit. It was all different. He had made it all different.

      He had made her want him.


      The anger rose in her, and it gave her the strength to meet
      his gaze with a cocked eyebrow, a slight smirk before she
      walked casually into the room, sitting in her spot beside
      him, saying hello to Storm as the weather Goddess settled
      in on the other side, but not paying attention to anything
      but her awareness of him.

      She closed her eyes, steeling herself for a bit before
      turning to him, letting the temper that was just a little
      bit his rally to her defenses as she opened her mouth to

      �Are you okay?�

      She blinked at the concerned voice, and the anger faded
      away meekly and she almost growled in frustration as she
      let her eyes focus on his. Dark. Deep. Intense.

      She had to clear her voice before a real answer came out.
      �I�m okay. Not good. Worried.�

      �You and that girl.�


      �Yeah. Got close?�

      She shrugged, pushing one white bang out of her face and
      tucking it behind her ear. �Nothing says friendship like
      being through a life or death situation.� Her eyes
      flickered to his, catching his gaze. �I guess you�d know.�

      The implication was clear, and it had come out of her mouth
      before she had a chance to stop it and she almost cursed
      out loud for the way he blinked and looked away, looking so
      damn unsure and so unlike Logan.

      She leaned forward, about to speak when Jean entered the
      room, the dark vampire that had scared the shit outta Rogue
      following closely behind.

      Rogue took in a breath, remembering why they had all
      gathered and the shaking started all over again and her
      hand gripped the desk, guilt seeping through her.

      Just like her. Southern brat thinking of her own damn
      problems when a Seer was dying a few doors down.

      She blocked out Logan, knowing any other time she would
      have reached for his hand, to feel the warmth of the skin
      through the thin leather gloves, would have gripped it hard
      and not have to have worried about breaking it like she had
      before with other people, because Logan had metal in his
      hands and he let her grip as hard as she wanted.

      But she didn�t.

      Because she couldn�t.

      Because it was different.

      So her hand gripped the table as she watched Jean sit down,
      her face weary and tired and still beautiful.


      Jean took a breath, hands shifting over the papers reading
      quietly to herself until she heard the murmuring among the
      group stop and could feel the eyes on her.

      If she wanted to, she guessed she could have reached out,
      let her mind open up to the feelings around the room, but
      she didn�t need that. All it took was one look at Angel�s
      darkly handsome face, at Rogue�s confliction, and Logan�s
      careful mask of indifference, to know exactly what was
      going on.

      A tight smile caressed her features as she gave Charles a
      glance, and when he nodded, she took a breath, her voice
      purposely steady and even.

      �I realize it has been a while. I�m sorry. Hank and I have
      been running tests all night and thanks to Rogue. We may
      have something.�

      A spark of hope flitted on Rogue�s face, but Angel wasn�t
      as convinced yet.

      �Cordelia is a mutant?� Wesley breathed, and again Angel
      didn�t say a word.

      �Not exactly,� Jean hedged. She lolled her tongue around
      her mouth, almost as if she was physically searching for
      the words before she glanced at the much bigger Beast and
      then took a breath, starting. �It�s very hard to explain
      but, Cordelia is somehow, through this connection with,
      Doyle was it?� Angel nodded, his eyes completely focused on
      her. �she started mutating. But apparently because of her
      being fully human, whatever action was triggered...
      stopped. The connection would have worked fine for Doyle,
      because he was half human and half demon and the demon side
      could more than make up for the pain that came from the PTB
      not allowing this mutation to take place correctly.�

      �You just completely lost me,� Rogue said, raising her

      Jean sighed, shrugging. �I don�t know how to explain it any
      other way.�

      �I�m listening,� Angel said, leaning forward.

      �What Jean is trying to say is that Cordelia is only half a
      mutant. The reasons these pains are so debilitating is that
      however this connection started was done with a half demon
      in mind, not a human. It�s ... genes,� Hank finished.

      �Okay, that�s all very informative. But how will this help

      Jean gave Wesley an anxious glance. �We don�t know. I... I
      have an idea. But it�s never been tried before and I�m
      worried... I don�t know what it would do to her.�

      The silence was not encouraging. She could see Angel
      processing the information, so the way Rogue�s hands
      clenched the table, the way Storm glanced at the
      Englishman, who matched his vampire friend�s expression to
      a letter.

      Yes. This was definitely not encouraging her in anyway.



      The voice was barely a rasp, but she heard it.

      Her eyes were shut tight, and her body trembled. The flood
      in her head was overwhelming and she gave a short whimper,
      eyes unseeing.

      She couldn�t think, could barely move, but the voice called
      to her, familiar but strange.

      Something was off.

      In the haze of the pain, there was a squeeze, and it was
      then she realized that hands were pressing into her.

      She sucked in her breath, and braced herself, letting a
      small moan escape as she opened her eyes to find the gentle
      brown orbs staring down at her.

      She blinked, focused, and when the caring face didn�t
      disappear, she felt her lower lip tremble, moving onto her
      side, pushing the side of her head against the pillow,
      trying to keep the tears from blurring her vision.

      �Angel.� A small smile forced it�s way onto her lips as his
      fingers entwined themselves in hers. She fought against the
      ache, the pain, once again pushed through it to do anything
      to remove the hurt look in his face.

      He had always been so beautiful. His eyes, dark and
      brilliant, shining with untold stories of heartache and
      vengeance, and beneath all that, a hope that seeped from
      within him, a love that gave life to a dead vampire that
      for four long years had embodied every reason for living.

      It was for this man she was fighting, he was the reason she
      blinked back the tears and bit back the pain.

      Her free hand reached, unsteadily, to his face, tracing the
      strong jawbone as she closed her eyes.

      �Cordelia, look at me,� he tried again.

      Her eyes opened, and she hitched in her breath, feeling his
      hold tighten on her, jerking her slightly.

      The ringing got louder in her head, and her eyes splintered
      against the images and god they were back-

      �Cordelia you have to-�

      He was crying. He was close to it, the cracking, the
      cloudiness in his voice-

      Her eyes shot open and suddenly she was back, staring at
      the beautiful face of her best friend.

      �Angel. I�m sorry. It hurts... it won�t stop... hurting.�

      His palm wrapped around hers and she felt his soft lips
      pressing against them, gentle and sweet and trembling.

      He was scared.

      �Angel,� she could barely manage anything more than a
      whisper, but her heart thudded and she forced her dry mouth
      to have just a little bit of moisture by swallowing.
      �What�s wrong? Did something happen to... where�s Wesley?�

      �I�m right here, Cordelia.�

      Her body shuddered with visible relief when she heard the
      Englishman�s voice, and when he came up from behind Angel,
      she managed a smile at him too, knowing he was trying hard
      to be strong for her, knowing she needed that.

      Angel was still holding her hands, keeping them close to
      him, almost as if it were some sort of lifeline, almost as
      if he could find some sort of truth that he was desperately
      seeking in the silken touch.

      Her heart thudded at the somberness of it all, and with a
      sigh, she let her breath out, not daring to close her eyes
      for fear the pain would overwhelm her yet again.



      She looked so damn helpless. So much in pain and so tiny
      and frail and -

      Dammit. He couldn�t ask this... he didn�t-

      �Cordelia,� Angel struggled with his words, keeping her
      hands in his, gripping them tightly as he forced himself to
      look into the pained, beautiful face. �We can make the pain
      stop, Cordelia.�

      Her eyes widened, and suddenly they were on him again,
      flickering between him and Wesley as her whole body went

      And the pain came again and he saw her body jerk and her
      eyes close for a millisecond before she forced them open
      yet again.

      �What are you talking about?� she managed. �Tell me now.�


      �Who the hell is Jean?�

      �She�s a doctor here. She... she thinks she might be able
      to... do one of two things.�

      Cordelia sucked in her breath, long and hard, before
      letting it out in a short burst.

      �Is it a mutant thing?�

      �Yes.� His voice was soft, gentle, barely above a whisper,
      too afraid to raise the volume any higher. �Cordelia,
      you're half a mutant.�

      Her eyes opened again, but she just stared at him, the
      hollowed pain apparently all she could really process.

      �So?� she asked bluntly. When he opened his mouth to speak
      again, she added, �Just get it out. Please. It hurts. I
      can�t... it hurts. I need to... the vision.�

      The stammering words gave him all he needed to know. Get it
      out quick and fast because she had no idea how much longer
      she�d be able to hold it and SHIT he had forgotten all
      about the vision of Rogue-

      His eyes flickered to Rogue�s still form at the doorway,
      where she leaned, watching with the others, and he
      immediately focused back on Cordelia.

      �Cordelia, Jean wants to either revert it or go through
      with it.�

      �Revert what?�

      �Cordelia,� Wesley kneeled down, his hand on Angel�s
      shoulder as he spoke gently. �Jean thinks she can make you
      fully human again, or fully a mutant. It�s a lot of genetic
      mumbo jumbo I�m not quite sure I understand but, from what
      I can tell, she can take away the visions if you turn fully
      human. As a mutant, you can stand them, but, she doesn�t
      know if she can make the pain go away.�

      Her voice was hesitant, eyes just a bit wider as she
      repeated, �Take them away? My visions?�

      Angel nodded, hold on her fingers tightening. �No more

      �No more visions?�

      �That�s right.�

      The tears came, as expected, but the answer was completely



      �You�re not taking them away.� Her head shook slightly as
      she looked directly into his dark orbs. �They�re mine.�


      �I can�t not have them. They help us. They help you.�

      The sharpness of her voice broke with the last syllable,
      and again he felt the stinging at the back of his eyes that
      he blinked back, shaking his head furiously, �Cordelia, the

      �I can handle the pain.�

      �No you CAN�T.� His voice was louder, angry, his form
      shaking as the vision became blurry again and he growled,
      wiping at his eyes with his sleeve and focusing again on
      her. �Cordelia you can�t. I don�t want the visions and not
      have you.� His hand released her fingers and suddenly he
      was cradling her face. �I need YOU. Forget the visions.�

      �Then make me a mutant. I can stand it then, can�t I?�

      �Cordelia,� Wesley joined the argument, forcing her eyes
      away from Angel�s as he bent forward. �If we can take these

      �We can�t.� She took in an unsteady breath, and when her
      eyes opened they were brilliant, shining and full of need.
      �You don�t get it. I see what�s out there. I KNOW what�s
      out there. I can�t not be a part of it. These visions are
      mine and they were given to me for a reason. I�ve lived
      with the pain for almost five years. I can handle it. Make
      me a mutant and I can live, right?�


      �Angel,� Her hand groped for his face and suddenly her eyes
      locked with his and she was close to crying again as she
      pleaded, almost begged, and God she never did that.
      �Please. Just do it. I need to help people.�

      His hand tightened on hers and the lump at the back of his
      throat was almost painful as he turned to look at Wesley�s
      glistening eyes.

      A short nod.

      Angel took in an unneeded breath and then leaned forward,
      pressing his lips against his hurting friend�s temple,
      feeling the soft skin beneath it.

      That was it then.

      His hand tightened on hers as he stood, faced the group of
      X-Men that were waiting, carefully closed expressions on
      their faces.

      �Do it.�


      Melissa Flores aka Misty

      You all know that I am a pacifist. So I am not interested in war in any way. But you know what? When the revolution comes, I will have to destroy you all. Not you Joey.
      ~Phoebe, The One with the Ride Along

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