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Fic: "That Same Dark Place" (1/1) PG-13/R [S/J, L/R, L/J]

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  • Nadja Lee
    That Same Dark Place By Nadja Lee 6/26/03 English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes. Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 3, 2003
      That Same Dark Place
      By Nadja Lee 6/26/03

      English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.
      Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make no money of it.
      Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author. Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of the author.
      Timeline: Set after the X-men 2 movie.
      Universe: Movie. ONLY movie!
      Romance: Scott/Jean, Logan/Rogue, Logan/Jean.
      Summary: Scott thinks about the past events and his time as Stryker’s prisoner, not knowing someone is watching him.
      Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.
      Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...
      Rating: PG-13/R
      Sequel/series: None

      Warnings: Mention of torture, killings and other ‘nice’ things.

      Thanks so much to Moswen for great beta and kind support.

      * * *

      Jean’s gone. I saw it, but I still can’t believe it. We held a small funeral for her a few weeks after her death, though the coffin was empty…It didn’t bring me the closure I had sought, the closure I had hoped to find. Her parents were grief-stricken and blamed me. I can understand that; they had loved their little girl…always. Me? I never quite got that, being an orphan. To me, Jean had the perfect family, though logically I knew they had their faults as well. Yet even though having something like her family had been a childhood dream of mine, I never knew how to talk to hers… I always felt inadequate, not good enough—for a woman as loved and as wonderful as Jean was.

      Few people understood the relationship we had; few understood the depth of the love we shared. Losing her was like losing a part of myself, a part of my soul. Others couldn’t see past the façade. They saw an older woman with a younger man. They saw a doctor dating a schoolteacher. They saw a woman with a normal family with an orphan. We were all those things but that wasn’t all we were. They saw a relationship doomed to fail. They saw a strong woman dominating a weaker man. They saw a beautiful normal woman with a strange man who always wore red shades. They saw wrong.

      To others, dating and love may be about power, dominance and control but, it never was like that for us. Yes, she earned more money than me. Yes, she had a higher education. Yes, she had a family and I had none. Yes, she was older than me. To us, none of that mattered. We simply loved each other. We were connected on a whole different plane.

      We trusted each other, we loved each other but we also needed each other and depended on each other. I remember a mission a little more than 2 years ago where I was almost killed. Jean told me in all seriousness that she wasn’t sure she would be able to live without me. That was the essence of our love and that’s what people never got. We were equals in every way but we also depended strongly on each other. We were each other’s souls…each other’s hearts. How can you go on without your soul? Without your heart?

      I know no one is perfect, and I know Jean wasn’t perfect either. I’m not one of those people who glorify everything after someone’s death. We did have our arguments, and at times, she did flirt…. like she did with Logan. Of course, that made me angry, because I was afraid to lose her. I’ve never had a lot so what I do have I sometimes tend to hold on to too tightly, that is a fault of mine I admit I have. However while Logan was away we talked about it, we talked a lot and we fought a lot as well. Those conversations made me realise some very important things; if you hold on too tightly you’ll lose what you try so hard to keep. I also came to realise that Jean didn’t flirt to hurt me, leave me or humiliate me…she did it because it was something she needed to try. I realised that the more forbidden I made it the more she’ll need to try and the more would it stand as an invisible wall between us until she’ll one day leave me, saying I always kept her back. I always have and always will value my own personal freedom highly so how could I do any less for the woman I loved so dearly? She needed to try playing a little, and I trusted in her and in our love enough to believe that she wouldn’t take it too far. That was really all there was to it but it had just taken me some time to see that.

      A few weeks after Jean’s death, Logan told me that they had kissed…probably felt a little guilty about it and needed to tell me about it… or maybe Kurt had had a talk with him. Our blue ‘priest’ has a tendency to get mixed up in everything and always has a good advise. At any rate, Logan looked something between ashamed, proud, and almost challenging when he said it. I simply told him that I already knew. The look on his face as he left my office had been priceless. Yes, I had been jealous, but that had passed. Jean had told me herself about the kiss after I had come back to consciousness in the compound. She had telepathically let me run through her memories of the past few days, knowing I had fears, and she had effectively put them to rest. Yes, she had kissed him, but she had walked away, and that was the part I chose to focus on.

      Sometimes I feel like she’s still here, like I can feel her around me. She remains as alive to me now, almost six months after her death, when she was able to stand right here next to me. I used to never have any trouble sleeping; now I rarely sleep. I work till late at night; I read…I sleep no more than a few hours, because every time I close my eyes, I see her image before me, and I smile…but then I see myself blasting her, hurting her, and in my nightmares…I kill her.

      In the daytime, when someone asks me if I remember what it was like being under Stryker’s control, I tell them I can’t remember. I’m lying. I know that Xavier knows this, but he never pushes for more information. Maybe he doesn’t want to know. He loved Jean as well. I do remember. I remember he tortured me before he used his mind control serum on me. I remember being locked up in a small cell; I remember cruel guards; I remember being asked questions about the school, Xavier, and the students there. I didn’t talk, but now I also know that that was never the point. They already knew everything. They were just having fun until they needed me controlled.

      At times I feel like screaming and never stopping, and at times even the most innocent touch will make me flinch and remember what I wish I could forget. I want to talk to someone about it but who would I ask? No one would understand. I’ve considered talking with Ororo, Kurt, or Xavier but they wouldn’t understand what I’m going through.

      Who’d understand what it feels like to be forced to hurt the woman you love? How it feels to be able to see everything, to want to stop when your body just won’t listen? Who’d understand if I told them of the humiliating and degrading things the guards made me do to test if the control was still holding?

      No one would understand…I’m alone now.

      Why did you leave me, Jean? Why? How dare you leave me like this? How dare you?

      I hate you! Hate you!

      Oh, God….I love you so much….I wish you were here with me. Please….come back to me and guide me….I’m lost without you.

      * * *

      I watch him. I do that sometimes. He sits in the kitchen again, staring blankly out into the dark room. It’s almost 4 in the morning. He should be asleep - as should I, but I have a feeling we’re both here for the same reason…and maybe we stay away from each other for the same reason as well.

      I can’t deny I held no great love or respect toward him when I first saw him. So young to be in command…such a quiet and calm nature. Now I know it was control I saw, and I know that where my rage is quick his is ice-cold and calculated…maybe making his even more deadly than mine. My rage has always been as unorganised and spontaneous as I am in everything I do.

      I’ve grown to respect him…more now than ever. I admit that it’s because I find myself in him now. Alone, having lost the woman he loved, having been captured by Stryker and forced to do things against his will…

      The others are blind — or rather choose to be. I know the signs; I know why he doesn’t sleep. I know that far more happened at Alkali Lake than what he’s been telling, and my bet is that he was well aware of his actions when he fought to kill Jean under the drugs’ influence. Maybe sometimes not knowing is better…maybe now I’m the lucky one of the two of us.

      I can’t say for sure why I fell in love with Jean, but probably some of it was because she was forbidden to me, and I wanted to test his limits. For as long as I can remember I’ve always hated authority and if anything Scott was just that so going for his girl made perfect sense in my book. What I hadn’t counted on was falling in love with her because I did love her…a part of me still does and always will, but she was never mine to love, and I’ve admitted that now. After her death I saw everyone giving Scott their sympathies and support and I came to that realization…she was never mine to mourn as a lover because that she never was. That is the burden I have to live with.

      Maybe — and it’s a big maybe — I might have been able to sleep with her for one night, but she would have regretted it, and she would have returned to him. She told me as much; ‘flirt with the bad boy, but marry the good guy’ she said, and now I know it was her way of warning me against falling in love with her, because she would always be his.

      Nothing makes you rethink your life more than death. Me, I’m a man who is very hard to kill—a man who just might be able to live for hundreds of years. I have seen death up close and personal, and it’s not a nice sight. Before, I drifted around; I had no place to call home, and no one to call family. I found I wanted a home, a family. Later, after Alkali I found a home in the school — but the family? I found that over time I began to see all the students as kinda like family, as I protected them and cared for them as one would a real family. However I wanted a family of my own. I thought about it for a long time. My thoughts always returned to Jean…. betrayed by a memory of a kiss I should never have given and a ghost who refused to grant me peace.

      Time heals all wounds; at least that’s what they say. It was true for me. I don’t have the bittersweet memories of a lost lover…Scott does. I would once have envied him those memories but now as I see that what was once his greatest source of happiness is becoming his source of the deepest sorrow I feel sorry for him instead…something I thought I would never do.

      Time may be my friend as I want to forget and I want to heal. For Scott time seems to stand still. He didn’t move on. In fact time almost seems to work against him, and it doesn’t seem to lessen his aguish. I doubt he can hide his pain much longer. Just yesterday he forgot his class had to take a test. He saved himself by postponing it till tomorrow but still…

      For me, things have changed with time. My love for Jean is still there, but it’s a bittersweet memory now; it’s one you take forth to remember with a hidden tear in your eye and a stab of sadness in your heart for a love that never came to be. But memories can’t comfort you and keep you warm at night; they can’t make you feel loved. You need a real flesh and blood woman for that. I’ve been lucky. This time, my love is requited, and I wonder why I didn’t see it before. She was there…had always been there right in front of my eyes.

      Ever since I came here, out of everyone in the mansion, the one person I cared for more than anyone, the one person I could die for without question, was Marie. I felt we shared a special bond, strengthened through my oath to take care of her. I hadn’t before tried to analyse my emotions for her; she was, after all, just a kid. Now I find that kids do grow up…it’s only I who doesn’t age; the rest of the world does.

      As I moved on after Jean so did Rogue move on after Bobby, which gave us one more thing we had in common. She and Bobby had parted as friends and I had taken her out for dinner after that to try and cheer her up. We talked, and she explained that she had just realised that Bobby was her best friend; but that was really all she ever wanted him to be; and so they had agreed to remain as much. It was in that moment, hearing her speak of relationships in such a mature way, seeing her sitting there with a look upon her face which wasn’t youthful but wise and certain, that I saw her as she really was for the first time…not a girl, not a child, but a woman.

      Love is what you make of it. I can’t see why you can’t love more than once in your lifetime, should you be lucky enough to get a second chance. Marie is everything I ever hoped she would be; she’s everything I need and everything I want, and I do love her. This love isn’t a flame; it isn’t red hot. It’s not forbidden, and it’s not about lustful glances or trying to hide it away while stealing kisses in unguarded moments. This love is warm; it’s always there and it’s like a blanket around my soul. This love doesn’t consume me, doesn’t burn me. This love protects me and supports me — and it’s just what I need. In a way this love is more mature than what I felt for Jean and therefore it has that much better chances of lasting.

      I did wonder whether I would be betraying what I felt for Jean by loving Marie, but I’m a man of sense, even though my heart at times will ask illogical questions. The dead don’t care about anything; they’re dead. However, I know she would have wanted Scott to be safe, and so, I made an oath to try and keep him out of trouble for her…she would have wanted that.

      As I look at Scott sitting there in his grief I understand. I too have things I can’t just ‘move on’ with. My lost memories and missing past for example. It would probably grant me peace if I did just move on; try and forget. But I can’t do that. I can’t let go.

      See…someone always understands. It may not be exactly the same pain but I’ve been to the same dark place that I know Scott’s in now. I don’t remember much from my past but I know that I was controlled and forced to do things I didn’t want to…like Scott did. We share that now… as we share the inability to move on though it’s different things we can’t let go of.

      Someone has always been in that same dark place. It’s not a question of understanding…it’s about reaching out, and that I’m not sure I can do. I don’t even know Scott all that well….Hell, I don’t even *like* him all that much. I respect him and I can understand what he’s going through but opening up and talking about the past and feelings…that never was me. Maybe in time…if this gets out of hand…but sometimes Mohammed does need to go to the mountain after all.

      But until he does, I’ll be here and I’ll keep an eye on him…for you, Jeannie. For you, the love who got away…my love who was never mine in the first place. This is my last gift…my last gesture…for you.

      Rest in peace….and rest easy…I’ll keep an eye on ‘im for you. Trust me.

      The End
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