Fic: Loss and Desire (R) - R/L
- Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters depicted herein, I do
not make any money of this and I only write this because I love to
provoke people. Any questions?
Title: Loss and Desire
Author: Sorcieré (hack_heaven@...)
Rating: R - disturbing subjects. What a surprise!
Archive rights: My own page, Nadja's, anyone else, just ask.
Summary: You can only lose so much before you stop caring.
A/N: Never mind my little descend into DarkFic. Nadja Lee and I are
just testing a little theory regarding flames. We'll return to our
regular program shortly.
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Loss and Desire
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Touch was the first thing she lost. The ability to touch another
living being without draining them until they lay lifeless at her
The next thing she lost was her home and her family. Her parents,
until then so loving and caring, decided that they could not - would
not - have a mutant in their home. They saw her as a spawn of the
devil, reject by man and God.
They sent her away, without any money, without any hope.
Still shocked because of what happened to David, she didn't fight
The third thing she lost was her innocence. She lost it on the road,
the first time she touched a trucker who wanted the kind of payment
she couldn't give. He didn't die. The next one, however, did, and
others followed him. And she lost her ability to feel guilt.
The fifth thing she lost was hope. Hope that she would ever be loved,
hope that she could ever touch again, hope that she would even
survive to see her next birthday.
The sixth thing she lost was the ability to care about others, simply
because she was too busy just trying to stay alive.
The seventh thing she lost was Marie. She died on the road, and in
her ashes arose the Rogue. Marie was touch, home, innocence,
morality, hope and kindness.
Rogue was not.
Rogue was the girl who'd hid in Logan trailer, not because she
trusted him or felt some mystic bond with him, but simply because she
had nothing left to lose.
Rogue was the girl who'd stared into the face of death and found that
in some ways, it was better than the alternatives. She'd felt death
twice, and had each time been pulled back from the comforting
She sometimes wondered why. After all, she was death incarnate.
Shouldn't it be natural for her to be reunited with the darkness that
had created her? Logan didn't seem to think so.
The others thought it was so endearing, so romantic that he was
willing to sacrifice his life to save her. No one bothered to look
beneath the surface and see what Rogue already knew - that the
Wolverine saw death as freedom and not loss, just like she herself
And maybe that was why things had turned out the way they had - on
the balcony, in the cold February air, four days after he'd returned.
They'd stumbled into each other in rec. room one night when neither
of them could sleep - she because of insomnia, he because of
nightmares. They'd talked a little but mostly just watched and
wondered, until they realized just how alike they truly were.
She wasn't sure who had made the first move, but they had ended up on
the balcony, only half-dressed, but too desperate to care about the
cold. That silent, chilly night had been the first.
It wasn't the last.
What they had...it wasn't love, because both of them had long ago
lost the ability to feel that particular emotion. It wasn't gentle,
because neither remembered gentleness. It was need, and want, and
desperation, just like them. It was the need to feel the only thing
they still had left - life. It was the need to feel alive in a way
that one only felt when staring into the face of death.
Need to prove to themselves that despite the fact that they no longer
felt guilt or love or hope, they were still alive. Need and desperate
wanting - to feel alive and to feel the rush of near-death, because
they really had nothing to lose and thus could enjoy what others
It was really a game of chicken, played with the Lord of Death
himself. They both knew that it was a game they would eventually
lose, but maybe that's what made it so alluring. Maybe it was because
each touch, each night could very well be the last. Maybe it was
because they wanted to forget the world, if only for a brief moment.
Or maybe it was because they both craved the companionship of someone
who didn't fear them, lethal as they were.
Because even between brief, skin-on-skin kisses, and caresses by
razor-sharp adamantium claws...there was no fear. There were risks
and pain and ecstasy and need...but never fear.
Even as Logan claimed her mouth in a searing kiss or left rough bite-
marks on her shoulder, even when there was nothing between them, even
as she felt his very life force being drained from his body by her
skin...he was never afraid.
And even as she could feel the cold claws on her skin, even through
the faint pain from the small cuts on her body, even as she knew that
one wrong move could kill her...she wasn't afraid.
Not because she counted on Logan's healing factor to save her, but
because they both had only their lives left, and were determined to
enjoy it while they could. Enjoy it in a way that was only possible
for those who no longer cared.
And they truly didn't care.
Not about the X-Men, who had offered them a place to stay. Not about
the place they lived at the moment. Not about the students, or the
adults, or even the Dream. Rogue had wondered about it, but had
eventually realized that it made a twisted kind of sense. After all,
if they were unable to love, and unable to hope, then why should they
be able to care?
They didn't care about the others' friendly gestures, either. They
didn't care about trust or compassion, sentimentality or
vulnerability. And while Rogue did sometimes admire the other
students' ability to open up to each other, and thus open themselves
to possible pain, she didn't like the trait in herself. To her,
vulnerability was a weakness, and weaknesses should be dealt with.
Weaknesses could lead to compassion, and compassion could force her
She didn't want that. If she cared, she would only be hurt again. She
preferred things as they were - of need and want and pure
desperation. She preferred to feel alive through passion and pain,
through claw-marks and games with Death, rather than through the pain
of betrayal and loss.
They had both lost more than enough already...and they both knew the
meaning of 'betrayal' too well.
But if they didn't trust, and didn't care, they would be safe, at
least for a short while. If the result was that other people started
to avoid them, then that was just a bonus. If they didn't socialize
with others, they wouldn't be hurt. No, not hurt - betrayed. They had
to care to feel hurt.
Hurt might be a part of the human nature, but neither thought of
themselves as completely human. Human meant joy and sadness, love and
hate, weakness and strength. Human meant having a soul, to be able to
care, to hope, to love, to feel guilt.
Rogue and Logan had both lost those emotions a long time ago, and
with them, their souls and humanity. Darkness was left, endless and
Like Death, darkness treated everyone equal. It didn't betray - as
darkness, how could it? It didn't bring pain, because in death, pain
did not exist. And most importantly of all - like them, it did not
Darkness was night, their nights together. Nights of risks and
thrills and desperation and pushing themselves just a little bit
And every morning, they would be just a little bit more exhausted,
him from the draining of his powers, her from the healing of her cuts
Every morning they had come one step closer to the edge, one step
closer to endless oblivion.
And they continued their game.
* * *
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