Fic: Packing 1/1 (Rogue, G)
- TITLE: Packing
AUTHOR: Kate Bolin
SUMMARY: Marie packs for her new life.
ARCHIVING: List archives, Kielle's, otherwise ask, please.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe herein are the property of
20th Century Fox and the Marvel Entertainment Group. This piece of
fan-written fiction means no infringement upon any legal holdings.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For Molly, who's also just ended up doing this. And
for everyone else who has ever had to reduce an entire life to a very
small amount of boxes and bags.
Oh, and it's 3:30 in the morning, and I've spent all day packing.
So, um, yeah, it kinda sucks.
Two duffel bags. Hard enough to carry from one room to
another, but, this time, she'd have to carry them for longer, and
they needed to be packed light.
Everything had to be crucial. Everything had to be
necessary. No room for sentimentality or excessiveness. Something
like..."Spartan," her history teacher's voice spoke for her, and
Marie nodded absent-mindedly as she went through her closet.
She glanced at her wall map again, her eyes tracing the line.
Cold weather...snow...ice... She tossed aside the piles of tank tops
and cut offs, necessary in the gulf coast summers, but she wouldn't
be wearing those again, not even if she was in the swamps -- couldn't
expose that much flesh to the world again.
She dug in the back, pulling out several sweaters and heavy
socks, her few articles of cold winter wear, hardly necessary
nowadays, but her mother had insisted every year, always bringing up
that one year, back when it snowed....
She found the weirdly colored knit scarf tucked under a pile
of t-shirts, one of the last presents her great-grandmother had made
her. She tossed it back there when she got it that Christmas
morning, but the next Christmas, when the home had commented on how
great it was that her great-grandmother could braid yarn together to
make a keychain, she had realized how important the scarf had been to
her great-grandmother's slowly decaying mind. Marie wrapped the
scarf around her neck, and dug around some more.
There. She pulled the long lycra gloves, a leftover from a
school dance, out of the drawer, and slowly put them on, getting used
to the sensation.
A few more articles of clothing, and she was packed,
everything contained in two suddenly very small duffel bags, packed
as full as she could carry, but not large enough.
No room for old journals, family photos, stuffed animals.
No room for books, music, magazines.
Just enough room for sweatshirts, t-shirts, tights, jeans,
underwear. Thick boots on her feet and a few layers of clothing on
her body. Gloves and scarf protecting the world from her.
No backpack filled with homework, no bedspread covered in
stuffed animals and magazines, no dresser scattered with makeup,
nothing to remind her of the life she was giving up, the life of a
normal teenager, in a normal -- human -- world.
And the girl now known as Rogue turned off the light and
picked up her bags. In the shaded illumination from the outside
lights, she left her family house, leaving Marie behind.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm writing pornography in the
notebook of the gods." - Ragged Robin, "The Invisibles"
Kate Bolin | Dymph-No-Mania: http://www.dymphna.net
dymphna@... | email@example.com | ICQ: 3326944