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Fic: The Bargain: 1/1: Rogue, Xavier: Unspoken #33

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  • victoria p.
    Title: The Bargain Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net] Summary: Once again, she fell back into the rituals of childhood, bargaining with an apparently
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 6 6:20 PM
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      Title: The Bargain
      Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
      Summary: "Once again, she fell back into the rituals of childhood,
      bargaining with an apparently absent God for things over which she had
      no control."
      Series: Unspoken RR
      Timeline: Concurrent with/directly after Khaki's "Reality Check"
      Rating: PG-13, for some imagery
      Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
      fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
      Archive: Lists, RRindex at jenn's Indulgence, Muse's Fool
      Feedback: Makes me do a happy dance
      Notes: Meg & Jen - you guys rawk [sic] for being online to beta this and
      tell me it wasn't *too* OTT. Thanks to the usual suspects, and damn Joss
      for making me have to change the title slightly. <g>

      < > indicates thoughts

      The Bargain

      Moira pushed her out of the lab, and she stumbled into the hallway,
      Logan's soaking clothes upsetting her balance.

      She landed on her knees, not even feeling the pain in her distress.

      <Oh God, oh God, oh God,> she thought frantically. <Don't let him die.
      I'll do anything. Please don't let him die. I'll never ask for anything
      again. I'll never go near another man. I swear. I'll live like a nun.>

      Once again, she fell back into the rituals of childhood, bargaining with
      an apparently absent God for things over which she had no control.

      This was far too familiar; she flashed back to the scene at home after
      her mutation first manifested, with her mother shrieking and her father
      screaming at the 911 dispatcher.

      She'd prayed then, and she prayed now, falling to her knees in tears.
      Unable to form a single coherent thought, she just whispered, "Oh, God.
      Please, God," over and over again for what seemed like the longest few
      minutes of her life.

      He was in her head again. His enjoyment in the night and the water, and
      in her nude body, coming through strong and clear. He wasn't afraid. He
      *wanted* to touch her. He wanted to be inside of her.

      And she'd wanted him there. Oh, not in her head, not because of her
      skin, no. She'd wanted to lie beneath him, seeing the stars framed by
      the curve of his shoulder. She wanted to cradle him between her thighs
      while he made love to her long and slow, the way she liked, or hard and
      fast, which seemed to be his preference. He seemed to think they'd have
      time to do it any and every way either of them could imagine.

      Blushing at the direction his thoughts in her head had taken, she'd
      reached out, employing the tenuous control she and the Professor had
      worked so hard on. The thought of touching him made her skin tingle,
      even now, covered in his sodden, chilling clothing, in a way that had
      nothing to do with her mutation.

      She'd been wanton, jumping from one relationship into the hope of
      another. Hope was a cruel mistress, holding out the things she wanted so
      desperately, only to snatch them away at the moment she gave in and
      reached for them.

      He'd smiled as she took his hand.

      "That's it, darlin'. It's all right," he'd whispered. "It's going to be

      Her lips twisted bitterly at the irony.

      Nothing would ever be okay again.

      She'd laughed with him, reveling in the feel of his skin against hers,
      warm in the cold water, strong, so gentle, as if she were something he
      would break if he weren't careful.

      That's when she lost control.

      The connection opened, buzzing along her nerves, startling her. His grip
      had tightened instinctively, and she hadn't been able to break free
      right away. Her fear had overwhelmed her, and any chance of regaining
      control was lost in her panic.

      He'd sunk like a stone, the adamantium bonded to his skeleton making him
      so much less buoyant than a normal person.

      She sniffed, wiping her running nose on the wet sleeve of his shirt,
      which no longer smelled like him, but of the stagnant lake water that
      had made her ill three days ago, after her encounter with Scott.

      Oh, God, Scott.

      Where was he? He should be here now, to hold her up, she thought. In
      sickness and in health. She made a choking sound that might have been a
      laugh. She had no right to that, never would now, but damn, he could at
      least be there for her to cry on.

      And then the door opened and Hank stood before her. She didn't rise.
      Just stared at him, fear and hope warring within her heart.

      "He's alive. He should be fine in a few hours."

      She didn't have far to fall when she fainted.


      She woke up to see the Professor sitting next to her bed.

      "What happened? Logan?"

      "Logan is fine. He should wake up sometime tomorrow, no worse for wear,"
      Xavier assured her.

      "No thanks to me."

      "It was an accident, Rogue. He knows you didn't mean to--"

      "I *did*, though, Professor. I touched him. I *wanted* to touch him, and
      he -- he wanted to touch me." She sat up, resolving not to cry anymore.
      "He wanted to touch me," she repeated, wonder seeping into her voice,
      only to be replaced by horror as she continued, "And I killed him."

      "Marie." It was a tone she didn't hear often from Xavier, but one that
      brooked no argument. "You were trying out your control. That's
      understandable. Perhaps," he paused, and she knew he was searching for
      the appropriate words, words that wouldn't make her feel guiltier than
      she already did. Those words didn't exist, but she appreciated his
      efforts. "Perhaps next time, though, you should try it out on dry land

      She forced a smile, knowing it wouldn't fool him, and said, "There won't
      be a next time."

      "You're upset now, but after you've settled down, you'll see this is
      only a setback. I'm sure Logan --"

      "Is wondering what the hell he's hanging around here for. He *saved* my
      life, Professor, and I killed him. He does all these things for me," <he
      saves my life, he makes me laugh, he gives me hope,> "and all I do is
      hurt him."

      Xavier sighed. "Is that what his thoughts tell you?"

      Her voice rose, edged with hysteria. "*His* thoughts? He's insane! He
      doesn't blame me. His last thought before he passed out was that --" she
      broke off. It was too personal. He had thought her skin felt like rose
      petals, soft and smooth against his rougher skin. He'd been imagining
      her hands all over his body, and using his tongue to taste hers before
      he'd passed out.

      She blushed and hoped she wasn't projecting, though Xavier's knowing
      look told her that, once again, her hope was in vain.

      "Yes, well, he is correct. You were foolish, but not malicious, Rogue."
      He brushed his hand gently over her hair. "Get some rest. You've had a
      rough night."

      She exhaled, slumping back against the pillows. "So, how is Hank?"

      "Hank? He's somewhat bewildered by the -- changes that have taken place
      in his absence, but he's well. He carried you up here after you passed

      "I actually fainted? How girly."

      "Like any good Southern belle," he teased, earning a true smile. "I'm
      sure Hank will be up to see you later."

      Another pat on her head, and he rolled out of the room.

      She shut the light and curled up on her side. She desperately wanted to
      go down and make sure Logan was okay. But she knew if she did that, she
      wouldn't be able to stay away from him. There was something between
      them, sure as the sparks between Jean and Scott, and being close to him
      would only remind her of everything she couldn't have.

      She'd made a deal, even if she didn't really believe in God, and she
      knew that she was better off alone. She spent the night building walls
      she'd long ago let fall, a fortress round her heart, and vowed that no
      invader -- not even the man with gold-flecked hazel eyes and the most
      amazing laugh -- would breach it again.





      "I've been forkin' with Gunn!" Fred, _Angel_


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