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FIC: Jus Ad Bellum Part IV: MA: 7/9: Rogue, all

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  • Jenn
    7/9 * * * * * I d never seen Scott Summers mad before. I d seen him irritated, angry, frustrated, annoyed, and a whole host of negative-connotated verbs
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 9, 2001
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      7/9

      * * * * *

      I'd never seen Scott Summers mad before.

      I'd seen him irritated, angry, frustrated, annoyed, and a whole host of
      negative-connotated verbs and adjectives, and I'd thought I'd seen them
      all. When Magneto escaped his plastic prison five years before--when
      Mystique impersonated Jean and seduced Logan, or Logan seduced her (and
      that was an event I still didn't feel comfortable thinking about)--when we
      mourned the death of Morph--when we listened to the anti-mutant rhetoric of
      one of our own turned against us--they'd brought out facets of him I'd
      never known existed.

      It was like comparing a light summer shower to a thunderstorm, though. Not
      even in the same zip code.

      Sitting in a corner of the tower's bottom floor, I watched in fascination
      as Scott paced the length of the room while the Director, blanched and
      without a single word in his defense, waited for Scott come down. The room
      seemed suddenly tiny and cramped, filled to the limit and beyond with the
      sheer power Scott emanated like heat off his body. Not his mutation, not
      just his authority, just--just him. This was a Scott Summers I'd never
      seen before, all the strength of the Scott I'd known in my world unleashed
      completely and absolutely, reminding every person in the room that he was
      the final authority in the end. Magneto might run the school, Mystique
      might run the country, but he was the man that led the X-Men, the enforcers
      of the new regime, and he was the man that had led the mutants to victory
      over the norms. He was the living, breathing embodiment of mutantkind
      itself and everyone in that room knew it in their very bones.

      I couldn't help but stare at him, in utter and complete awe.

      "Execute them," Scott said finally, in a low, even voice that sent shivers
      down my spine. Logan, standing just behind my chair, closed a hand on my
      shoulder before I could begin to think of anything to say. "Publicly.
      This will not happen again. This will *not* become an example for others
      to copy. I want it recorded and sent to every single camp in the country.
      Do you understand me, Director?" He turned on the big man, who looked
      small and rather flat compared to Scott now.

      "Yes, sir."

      "Everyone involved is to be brought before me within the next four hours."
      Scott's voice dropped even lower, raising the hairs on the back of my neck
      and along my arms. "According to Marie, there were at least twenty people
      in that apartment--bring them out and anyone suspected of being a part of
      this. Anyone even *breathing* near that area is to be questioned and given
      to Jeannie and Betsy immediately. Have I made myself clear?"

      The Director nodded and snapped orders to two white-faced guards behind
      him, who were already making for the stairs like grey rabbits, desperately
      glad, I supposed, to get out of the room and from under the sheer weight of
      Scott's power. I knew how they felt. The visored gaze turned on me and
      stayed there for a few long minutes, and I leaned back into Logan without
      even being aware I was doing it.

      I'd never feared Scott Summers before. I did now.

      "Jean needs your memories, Marie," he said softly. I jerked up, knocking
      my chair over, and Logan's hands closed over my arms before I could do
      anything else. Those men in that apartment had annoyed me--but this was
      worse. I'd rather be there still than locked in this room with a pissed
      off Scott. I'd rather be with a pissed-off Scott than trapped in a room
      with a powerful telepath, but only marginally. I didn't think even Scott
      Summers in this incantation could break me.

      But Jean Grey, telepath and telekinetic, whose power danced along my skin
      at every meeting, very well might.

      "No, Summers."

      Scott's hot gaze fixed on Logan for a minute, then he raised a hand,
      flickering it in dismissal of those surrounding us.

      "Everyone out. Now."

      The room cleared so fast it was as if everyone teleported someplace else.
      I didn't blame them. Logan gently freed my arms and upended the chair,
      setting me down before my knees went out.

      "Logan, don't ever contradict my orders in front of subordinates. You know
      chain of command as well as I do."

      There was a hot, tense silence between them, and I leaned into the chair as
      if I could sink inside it and never come out. If Jean got in my head,
      she'd know something was up. She'd know that the story of Marie Danvers
      didn't match the mind. I took a shaking breath, letting it out, as Logan
      casually stepped in front of me--I could just see Scott around him.

      "Don't give orders you know I'm against. Marie hasn't done anything that
      requires telepathic interference and you know it. She was attacked, same
      as Kitty, and she got herself and Kitty out. I'm not subjecting her to
      that."

      Scott stared into him until I wondered if the beams would break free of
      ruby quartz just from the intensity of that look.

      "This isn't negotiable. We need to know who and what, Logan."

      "I'll question her."

      "It won't be the same as living memory."

      "No, it won't. But it'll be just as accurate." Logan's hands were relaxed
      at his sides. There might have been nothing more exciting going on than a
      discussion of automotive parts.

      "Why don't you want Jean in her mind, Logan?" Scott seemed to have
      forgotten I was there--or maybe he didn't care anymore. "Normal procedure
      on entering the school is a voluntary mental scan and complete physical.
      You've blocked both. I want to know what's in her head that you don't want
      anyone else to know, even Jean."

      I sucked in a breath, saw Scott's gaze arrow on me. Suspicion naked across
      his face, the first time he'd let me see it so completely. He was past the
      point of being subtle. Dear God.

      "It's her head, her privacy, hers alone. It belongs to her, like her body,
      and she has the right to both and what's done with them." Logan's voice
      was painfully even, like the solid edge of cut glass. A slip and you'd cut
      yourself badly, no matter how smooth it looked. "That's what we fought
      for, isn't it, Summer? That freedom? She's free to say no. She's given
      us no reason to doubt her intentions or her allegiances, so we don't have
      the right to force telepathic rape on her."

      Scott's entire face froze.

      "That's low, Logan."

      "It's what it is with an unwilling mind. You know it, Jeannie knows it.
      Using pretty words to cover it up with doesn't change what it is."

      "It won't hurt her. You know better than to think Jean--"

      "I know exactly what it is." Logan tapped his head. "I remember. And I
      know what it feels like to have the privacy of your mind taken. I've had
      seven years to remember it."

      Shaking, I stared up at Logan, forgetting Scott. God. He was talking
      about me. About my mutation. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I lowered
      my head onto my knees. I'd never asked how it felt to someone else, how
      they felt when I pulled out their mind through their skin. I'd never
      wanted to know.

      I heard Scott's soft breathing.

      "Logan, tell me you're not being blind."

      "Tell me that seven years of trust is worthless weighed against one
      choice."

      That was laying down the line and I waited it out, the voices in my head as
      silent as the room.

      "Send me a report." Not defeat--another quality in the even voice.
      Frustration, still anger, but more than that, there was faith in that
      voice. He believed Logan, believed unquestioningly in Logan's loyalty.
      Whatever he thought of me, he believed in his friend and team member and
      second in command. He believed Logan would never betray him, and he didn't
      know that Logan was doing that, just by protecting me.

      God, this was so fucking complex, more than I'd ever imagined. I'd made it
      this way.

      "I'll bring it to you personally," Logan answered, and I heard the sound of
      footsteps as Scott left the room, going up the stairs to finish with the
      camp guards. I felt Logan come over, crouching beside me, gloved hands
      gentle in my hair.

      "I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to look at him, at what I was making him
      do. This wasn't Logan--it wasn't him, to do this, to be this person. No
      matter where we were, Logan took loyalty seriously.

      "Nothing to be sorry for." Carefully, fingers worked under my face and
      lifted it, and I saw nothing but worry written in the clear hazel. Worry
      and support and so much emotion that I threw myself out of the chair and
      buried my head against his jacket, shutting my eyes tight. "Everything's
      okay, Marie. I promise."

      I didn't do anything but hold on and Logan simply stood up, letting my feet
      drop naturally to the floor. I lifted my head and tried to get control of
      myself.

      "Can we go home now?" I whispered finally, leaning into the leather of his
      jacket.

      "Right now."

      *****

      Telepathic rape.

      Energy absorption, memory transfer, mutational mimicry--pretty words like
      clean linen covering the filthy truth, the real definition of what I was.
      It all came down to that--I pressed my bare skin against bare skin and
      sucked their essence through me, into me, taking what they considered most
      sacred, most debased, most beautiful, most private. What was never meant
      for any thoughts but their own became mine to study and search through at
      my leisure, to mock with friends or enjoy in the privacy of my room.

      I had no right to know how Kitty had felt against that lab wall--all her
      humiliation, her embarrassment and pain and sick fear. I had no right,
      none at all, no more than I would have to put a camera in Scott and Jean's
      room to tape them having sex. The ultimate invasion of privacy, and
      inevitable, simply because of what I was.

      I stumbled into the bedroom and found the collar, pulling it on and
      crouching by the bedside table as it took effect.

      "Marie?"

      Distantly, I heard him come in, warm hands on my shoulders, and I tried to
      fight him--oops, see, power's off, Marie. Can't do that, can't be that. A
      finger traced the collar.

      "It's what I told Scooter, isn't it?"

      Lifting me gently, he sat on the bed, pulling me into his lap. I couldn't
      look at him--hadn't been able to look at him in the car either, curled
      inside my own misery and guilt.

      I was doing this--me. I was the mental rapist and the one that was making
      Logan betray himself with every word and breath. I thought I had problems
      in my world--oh, poor Marie, she can't touch anyone, it fucks up her head
      so badly, poor baby. No shit. Poor person who touches me, see what the
      fuck I can do to you? I can take more from you than you know you have. I
      should never be allowed to touch anyone, ever. I should have been locked
      in that plastic prison with Magneto--dear God, how could Logan bear to
      touch me? How? How could anyone look at me and not *see* that, feel it in
      their bones?

      "Marie, it's not what you think."

      "Tell me you were lying to Scott." I dug my fingers into my thighs,
      feeling his breath deep in his chest, then the soft rumble of an exhale.
      "You weren't. That night--in your room--when I touched you, it was like
      that, wasn't it? I was--I was taking your mind from you. Ripped it out
      and stole what--" I choked. The implications I'd never considered
      staggered me, and I tried to jerk away from him, unable to bear the feel of
      his skin against mine. The strong arms tightened. "How can you stand to
      touch me?"

      "I love you, so it's not that hard." My breath caught at the words, but he
      went on. "Marie, you didn't want to hurt me when you did that."

      "Doesn't make it any less a violation, though, does it?"

      "It's one I don't mind remembering, one I'd do again without question."
      His hands slid below my jaw, tilting my head up to meet his eyes, feel how
      serious he was. "Without question, without hesitation, Marie. None. It
      doesn't matter."

      "It matters to me."

      "I know." He brushed his lips across mine, lightly--no danger with the
      collar, nothing to hurt him with, all dangerous skin turned safe. I turned
      in his arms, pushing him back on the bed and attacking his mouth, my tongue
      sliding along his lips until they opened under mine.

      There were a thousand different flavors I couldn't possibly map all on my
      own, but I tried every time. Slick with smoky richness, like whiskey and
      chocolate and cigars, but better. Not sweet, but strong. The way his
      tongue slid around mine, circling it, pushing by into my mouth until I
      wasn't sure where either of us ended in the other. Not breaking the kiss,
      I unbuttoned his jeans, working a gloved hand between us until I had enough
      space to circle him with my hand. He bit the tip of my tongue, drawing a
      low moan out of my throat, and I tried to get deeper, all the way inside
      him so I didn't ever have to come out again and see what I was.

      I'd taken so much from him--memories, my younger self, his own ethics,
      forcing him to betray those that trusted him. I'd died once and this world
      had been the result. I'd come back, and now I'd see if I could finish
      destroying him completely. God, I wasn't any better than the norms.

      "I love you," I said, tearing myself away from the addiction of his mouth.
      He reached up, cupping my face, and I shook my head on the words he was
      about to say, words that would give me an absolution I had no right to.
      "Just you, only you. I love you." Ducking my head, eyes closed, I ran my
      tongue down his jaw, to the side of his throat, digging my teeth into the
      spot just where the shoulder met the neck, feeling him groan beneath me.
      Jerking his shirt up, he let me pull it off him and I buried my mouth
      against his shoulder, nipping the warm skin and hard muscle beneath and
      feeling his shudder of reaction. Frantically, I worked my way down his
      chest, biting each nipple until his hands were tight in my hair, licking
      and sucking down his stomach, pushing his jeans off his hips and taking him
      in my mouth in one swallow.

      He was impressed--his hips arched off the bed and I braced a hand on either
      side of us. Breathing hard, the fingers in my hair loosened a finger at a
      time, and I slid my teeth lightly up the length until I only held the head
      in my mouth, sucking softly, before pushing back down again. He was saying
      something to me--no idea what, no idea why, I could only hear my heart
      pound against my ribs while he twisted underneath me. I lifted myself on
      my knees, using my tongue to tickle another line up his cock until he began
      to shake under me. I slid one gloved hand down to run lightly across his
      balls, cupping them gently and squeezing with every thrust of my mouth,
      feeling them tighten--so close, he was trying to make it last, but I wanted
      to push him all the way over, wipe out everything resembling thought.
      Licking around the head, I dragged my teeth until I had him all and
      swallowed, felt him shudder again, then sucked.

      He let go with a growl that echoed in my head, and I pulled back and held
      on until he was finished, swallowing quickly, then slowly, slowly letting
      him out, running my tongue slowly over my lips. Looking up, I met the
      blazing hazel eyes and crawled up his body, dragging my skin against his.

      Our eyes were centimeters apart, and I licked along his lips, kissing him
      so he could taste himself in my mouth.

      "Take me," I whispered, sharing his sharply indrawn breath as I lowered
      myself over him, my jeans an exquisite abrasion for us both. "All of me."

      The claws slid out, cutting through my jeans with perfect coordination, and
      I felt the warm almost-brush of them against my skin. My shirt next, and I
      threw my head back as his hands slid up my body, the metal sliding with
      them. My bra was unfastened with a sharp cut across the back. Fingertips
      stroking the tips of my breasts, the line of my shoulders, down my arms and
      I shut my eyes as he sat up, his lips touching the skin over my heart
      softly.

      "Marie, I love you. Nothing else means shit."

      That made it even worse, in some strange part of my mind. Wrapping my arms
      around his shoulders, I bit into my lip when his mouth slid over my
      breasts, teasing a nipple into painfully hard erection, his hands braced on
      my shoulderblades, the metal of his claws just brushing my hair. I moved
      my hips slowly against his, feeling him harden underneath me, a soft growl
      reverberating around my breast, bringing up goosebumps all over my skin.
      One of his hands slid down the length of my back and the metal tip of the
      claws followed, barely brushing, unbelievably erotic. A single cut through
      my underwear and they were so much shredded silk, like the remains of the
      cotton shirt and denim pieces scattered around us, and both hands lifted my
      hips, dragging his erection slowly across the wet heat between my legs. I
      heard myself moan softly, my nails digging into his shoulders through my
      gloves.

      "Please, Logan--"

      He brought my hips down hard, all at once, and my entire body went stiff at
      the feel of him filling me, stretching me, tears burning behind my eyes as
      every nerve in my body went into overload. With a moan, I buried my head
      against his shoulder as he rocked me slowly--too slowly--and the long
      fingers were sliding over every inch of my skin, rubbing circles into my
      thighs, his mouth soft and warm against my throat. His hand on the back of
      my neck turned my head, and he captured my mouth, pushing inside as
      completely as he'd entered my body. The hand on my hips went to my back as
      my hips took up the rhythm he'd set, kneading into my flesh, pushing me
      closer and closer to that moment when every knot in my body would release,
      and I pulled my mouth away, gasping in a breath before he withdrew the
      claws and eased that hand between us and rubbed my clit.

      "Oh God....."

      It was a slurred whisper, everything coming apart all at once--my entire
      body went stiff as my orgasm crashed over me, a coiled burst of heat that
      seemed to tingle in my fingertips. Both hands closing on my hips, he
      pushed me harder, sending aftershocks through me that brought whimpers from
      between my clenched teeth, until I felt him release, a hot liquid burst and
      a shudder running through the body pressed against mine. I clutched him
      with muscles gone utterly strengthless, felt him ease us back down on the
      mattress, and shut my eyes tight, burying my head against his neck.

      "Beautiful Marie," he breathed against my hair, arms tightening around me.
      "My beautiful Marie."

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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      *****

      On Published Versus Fanfic (simplified)

      Q: Why do I do this? I'm a junkie.

      A: And fanfic writers are... what? Slightly scuzzy methadone addicts, as
      opposed to mainlining the pure uncut goooood stuff that is your drug of
      choice?

      --Barbelith Underground Messageboard, page 7
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