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Fic: Magic in the Night: 1/1: L/R

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  • victoria p.
    Title: Magic in the Night Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net] Summary: From your front porch to my front seat / The door s open but the ride it ain t
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 20, 2002
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      Title: Magic in the Night
      Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
      Summary: "From your front porch to my front seat / The door's open but
      the ride it ain't free"
      Rating: G
      Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
      fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights. Thunder
      Road belongs to the Boss.
      Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool.
      Feedback: Rings my chimes
      Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. Thanks especially to
      Pete, as his "Leaving Sunnydale" trilogy (a must read for any Xander
      fan, it can be found here:
      http://www.unfitforsociety.net/pete/buffystories.html#leaving) inspired


      Magic in the Night

      Rogue was curled up in the armchair that had been her father's, trying
      to lose herself in the romantic entanglements of the Bennet girls, when
      she heard a car pull into the driveway.

      She sighed.

      Since coming back to Meridian a month ago to arrange her parents'
      funerals, neighbors and relatives and random people calling themselves
      friends had been showing up on her doorstep non-stop. She often thought
      that the support they'd given her "in her time of trouble" (as Mrs.
      Jenkins, the church organist, called it), was the most amazing thing
      she'd ever experienced, and in her eight years as an X-Man, she'd
      experienced plenty. If only she'd known how open and supportive they
      actually could be toward a freak like herself, maybe she'd never have
      run away in the first place.

      She thought back over the ten years of her life since the day she put
      David into a coma with a kiss.

      She'd been a lot of places, seen a lot of things. And while she didn't
      think she'd change any of it -- she had friends and family who loved and
      depended on her, as well as a place to call home -- still, she wondered
      how different it all would have been if she hadn't run.

      In the end, there was one person who made it all worthwhile. She
      couldn't imagine her life without Logan in it, and she didn't want to
      ever have to try.

      She waited for the doorbell to ring, and when it didn't, she went to the
      front door, smoothing down her skirt and pushing a stray lock of hair
      behind her ear. She appreciated their concern -- really, she did -- but
      it was a little overwhelming to constantly have people underfoot, people
      who were getting used to the novelty of an Alpha level mutant among
      them, and who didn't always grasp that "don't touch" meant *don't
      touch*. Even more wearing, they all wanted to talk about her parents.
      And they were all so *kind*. They made her want to cry, and she wasn't
      sure if it was because of frustration, sorrow or guilt at being such a
      bad daughter.

      With a deep breath and a false smile, she opened the door, expecting to
      see Mrs. Jenkins or Reverend Halliburton or the elderly Molloy sisters,
      casseroles in hand and quaint, comforting sayings on their lips.

      Instead, she saw Logan, as if summoned by her thoughts, leaning on the
      hood of a car. And not just any car. It was a candy apple red 1965
      Mustang convertible. The top was down.

      "Hey, kid."

      "Hey," she replied, pushing through the screen door into the warm, humid
      air of the Mississippi evening.

      She stood on the porch; a light breeze stirred her skirt around her bare
      ankles and the wood planks were smooth and warm against the soles of her
      feet. The air was rich with the scent of honeysuckle jasmine; it slid
      over her skin like velvet.

      He jerked his head toward the car. "You comin'?"

      "I-- I can't," she began, turning away, her hand already on the doorknob
      to go back inside. "I have things to do here. I--"

      He crossed the ground between them easily, and stood beside her on the
      porch, a gloved hand cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of
      her lips. "Darlin'," he said tenderly, "don't send me away again. I
      can't take it."

      She leaned into his hand, feeling the tension slide from her body. "I--"

      "Come on. There's nothing you can do here anymore, Rogue. They're gone."
      She sniffed at the gentleness in his tone. "You have to let it go." She
      knew how much it had cost him to learn that particular lesson -- he'd
      found some of his past, and then wished he hadn't. It had taken him
      years to learn to live with it.

      She hadn't asked him -- hadn't asked any of them -- to join her when she
      got the news about her parents, but he'd come anyway. He hadn't said
      anything, he was just there when she needed him, and he left when she
      told him to go. He'd been there whenever she'd needed him over the past
      ten years, done everything she'd asked, fulfilled every promise, and she
      still couldn't quite reciprocate on this one thing he requested in
      return. "We don't have to go back to Westchester right away."

      He walked back to the car and she followed, as always drawn after him,
      and still slightly resenting that pull. He'd bought the Mustang for her
      when she'd turned twenty-one. It had been a mess, and together with
      Scott, they'd put it back together from the frame out.

      She ran a hand over the polished hood, a small smile creasing her face
      at the memories the car -- and the man driving it -- inspired.

      "She's a beauty." She looked up and found herself caught in his gaze.

      His eyes never left hers. "Eh, she's all right."

      She looked away first, turning to lean against the car. "I don't know,
      Logan. I--"

      He moved next to her, their bodies touching. She shivered at his
      nearness. A quick sideways glance told her he was staring out at the
      horizon, and she wondered what he could see out there that she couldn't.
      She worried about what it might be, worried he was envisioning life
      without her, and she felt paralyzed by her own inability to do what he
      wanted, what she needed to do.

      "Well, I'm heading out tonight."

      She licked her lips. She knew that was it -- the last time he'd ask. If
      she let him go, he'd be out of her life forever.

      She remembered their years together -- the stops and starts, the moments
      fraught with meaning that never quite blossomed into something more. The
      way she'd pined for him and then believed herself over it, grown beyond
      the schoolgirl crush that ran deeper than either of them wished to admit
      all those years ago. She thought about the way he'd taken care of her,
      comforted her after her affair with Remy had left her desolate and
      unable to trust in anyone.

      She felt her body respond as she recalled the way he looked at her after
      she'd finally gotten over Remy, the way his hands lingered whenever he
      touched her, and the heat of his body through the layers of their
      clothes, how it both comforted and thrilled her.

      He tilted his head again. "I know there are things I should say, and
      maybe they'd convince you, but--" he stopped, shrugged a shoulder. "You
      either feel it or you don't. It's your decision. You know what I want,
      and what I have to give."

      She took a deep breath. Years, ten years of dreaming of this moment,
      fell away. No more wishing for rose petals and violins, tuxedos and silk
      gowns. No more fantasies of changing him, making him over into something
      he wasn't. She loved him the way he was, and wanted what he was
      offering. Just himself, his love, and the road.

      She wasn't a teenager any longer, hadn't been for years, and she knew
      that whatever dreams she'd had, they were nothing compared to the
      reality of life with this man, and the emptiness she felt at even the
      thought of life without him.

      She let the last of her childhood go, felt her lingering resentment at
      his effect on her slip away, replaced by the sure knowledge that she had
      the same effect on him, whether he'd admit it or not.

      He held out a hand, his eyes soft in the gloaming, and she took it,
      letting him lead her to the front seat. He opened the door and she
      climbed in, unable to keep the small smile on her face from turning into
      an all-out grin. He wore a matching grin that took her breath away.

      He slid in next to her and started the car, turning on the CD player.
      Roy Orbison's "Only the Lonely" played, and she glanced at him, trying
      not to laugh. His ears were tinged with red, but he said nothing, simply
      took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips.

      They rode in silence along the back roads, watching the twilit sky
      deepen to black. The wind whipped through her hair, drowning out the CD
      player, making its own whistling music. The chains of the past loosed
      themselves, and she felt free of the weight she'd been carrying since
      she got the news about her parents.

      She was an adult now, truly, but she didn't have to be alone.

      He slowed the car as they approached her childhood home, giving her time
      to relish her newfound freedom, and to discover that it was okay to move
      on, to leave the past behind.

      "I always wondered, you know," she said finally.

      "About what?"

      "Whether she went with him or not."

      Logan raised an eyebrow. "And?"

      "I never thought she did, and it made me sad. " She shifted, putting her
      bare feet on the dashboard, feeling daring at letting so much skin show.
      "I never thought I would."

      "But you did. You are."


      He slid an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, sighing
      in contentment.

      "I'm glad."

      She rubbed her face against his arm, inhaling his scent, covering
      herself in it. "Me, too." Then, "I love you."

      "Me, too, baby. Me, too."





      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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