FF: First Night (5/14)
- 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
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
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.
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?
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
�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.�
�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
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
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
�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
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,
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
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
�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
�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?�
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
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
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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