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Fic: The Same: 1/1: Rogue

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  • victoria p.
    Title: The Same Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net] Summary: Rogue takes a chance on a stranger. Rating: G Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 25, 2002
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      Title: The Same
      Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
      Summary: Rogue takes a chance on a stranger.
      Rating: G
      Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
      fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
      Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool.
      Feedback: Rings my chimes
      Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. This was supposed to
      be for Jae's defining moments challenge, but it's too long and I can't
      cut it any more.
      Date: July 25, 2002

      ~*~

      The Same

      It's not just the way he looks with his shirt off.

      It's not attraction.

      Well, it is. She's honest enough to admit that, though she knows she'll
      never be his type. What man would look at a girl who can't be touched
      when he could have any woman he wanted?

      So it's not *just* attraction, though that's part of it.

      It's... knowledge.

      She knows he's different, can see it in the way he moves, the way he
      keeps getting up, when a normal man would stay down. He's graceful,
      powerful, undamaged even after what feels like hours of fighting.

      She knows they're the same. The knowledge prickles along her deadly skin
      as she watches him, and waits.

      Later, she's alone at the bar, worried that he's left without her, that
      the connection she's feeling is nothing but exhaustion, imagination and
      hormones working overtime, combining into this electricity dancing along
      her nerves.

      She's eyeing the tip jar longingly, unable to recall the last good meal
      she's had, when he sits down and says, "Beer."

      He glances over at her, and her heart races. He feels it, too. They
      never quite make eye contact; instead, they play a game of sidelong
      glances as the bartender changes the channel on the television.

      His attention is caught by the word 'mutant,' and she crows victory to
      herself. She was right. They *are* the same.

      The big bald man from earlier taps him on the shoulder and angry words
      are exchanged.

      "I know what you are," the biker whispers, and she sees the glint of a
      knife.

      She reacts without thinking. "Look out!"

      Things move at lightning speed, too fast for her to process. The
      Wolverine is standing, metal claws extending from his hands, his lips
      drawn back in a snarl.

      After he's shredded the bartender's shotgun and stalked out, she looks
      around, realizing that she's not safe, that she needs to leave, fast.

      She rushes out into the morning and scans the parking lot. He's sitting
      in the cab of a trailer, and she takes a deep breath, again acting on
      instinct.

      Part of her, the sensible, *normal* part, is screaming, 'run' as she
      sneaks into the back of his trailer. What kind of lunatic is she
      trusting?

      But the part of her she's come to call Rogue is sure he already feels
      the connection vibrating between them, sure that he'll help her. She did
      save his life, after all. That's got to be worth something, even to a
      surly guy with metal claws.

      She slips beneath the tarp and soon the rocking motion of the trailer
      soothes her into a light doze.

      When they stop, she holds her breath, hoping he won't notice her hiding
      in the flatbed, but he does.

      "What the hell are you doing?"

      "I'm sorry. I needed a ride. I thought you might help me."

      "Get out of there."

      She climbs out, uncertain now of her judgment; questioning her sanity
      for thinking this guy would help her, even if they are both mutants.

      "Where am I supposed to go?"

      "I don't know."

      "You don't know, or you don't care?"

      "Pick one."

      As he gets back into the truck, she plays her trump card. Maybe he
      doesn't feel the connection, maybe she made it all up, but--

      "I saved your life."

      "No, you didn't."

      He leaves her standing in the road. She's close to crying. It's cold,
      she hasn't eaten in days, and she's pinned her hopes on the wrong man.

      He drives about twenty feet before he stops again, and she says a little
      prayer of thanks to the god she no longer believes in as she joins him
      in the cab of the trailer.

      She's right. They are the same.

      He just doesn't know it yet.

      End

      ***

      victoria

      --

      CJ: "You wanna make out with me right now, don't you?"
      Toby: "When don't I?"
      The West Wing

      --

      The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
      read my diary: http://musesfool.diaryland.com
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