mutantprydesâ:
When nervous, which was often, Kitty had a habit of ramblingâspilling the anxiety that bubbled in her chest out of mouth in discordant spurts. Unfortunately for Rogue, Kitty was nervous. Nervous to be talking to a woman she tried so hard not to talk to, nervous to be being chased down by an evil alternative self. Nervous that sheâd forgotten to turn the stove off at the mansion when she was making macaroni and cheeseâwhich turned out to be very good, thank you for asking.Â
âA vampire? Thatâs kinda hot.â Kitty had meant it in a teasing sort of way, but her cracking voice ruined what little comedic sense the statement had. âLike in Buffy,â she tried again, âAngel was hot. Have you seen Buffy? Itâs not as great as Firefly but I like it a lot.â Kitty stopped herself, she could talk about 90s TV shows for hours, but she had the sinking feeling that Rogue didnât want to hear about it. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she had no sense of what Rogue did or did not like. Strange then, that someone who lived in her home was a stranger to her. And stranger still that Kitty had let that be. ( What had she given Rogue for her birthday? She must just have tacked her name on the end of Bobbyâs presentâshe couldnât even remember. Had Christmas been the same? ) âOh,â Kitty responded after a moment. Oh was all she could think to say. There was a story there, one she wanted to know. How did it go? Are you okay? Did you two hug? Of course, Kitty didnât ask. She didnât even bother to follow-up in any meaningful way, as though she needed to cast the topic off her like burning coals. If she couldnât even talk about her favorite TV shows to the woman, she doubted sheâd be able to get through a conversation about Jean. âI had a chat with Jean too.â And she left it there, noting the depth of pain in Rogueâs eyes. A pain she would not comment on, and one she would not dare try to easeâas much as she wanted to try, wanted to learn how to.
They were not friends, not the way Kitty was with every single other person she called a friend. And whose fault was that but her own?
When Rogue stumbled back, Kitty pulled her hand away like itâd been burned. Distance; what else did she expect? She wanted to scream apologies into the air until her voice ran hoarse and then sheâd write the words until her hands bled. And whose fault was any of this, but her own? Curse Jean Grey for dying and making a bigger mess of an already messy thing, curse Rogue for killing her and ruining something thatâd been ruined long ago. ( Who was she if not the girl who had the exact gift to mock Rogueâs curse? ). And instead of telling the woman what she felt, how much she ached to mend a bridge thatâd been burnt long before it was made, she smiled and made a joke.
âDo you just call everyone sugar? Canât I be more special? LikeâŚcinnamon? Logan calls me pumpkin.â And to the Rasputins she was âKatyaââKitty did like her nicknames. They bared a closeness Kitty was known for forging, naturally friendly as she was. Sheâd always introduced herself as Kitty for this exact reason; she would let people think they could be close to herâthere was a specific brand of deceit sheâd crafted that masqueraded as sincerity. She might have acted with her heart on her sleeve, but Kitty never did actually betray her thoughts or feelings. Sheâd keep her mind trapped behind a thousand walls if she could. But her ruse of emotional intimacy couldnât work on someone she purposefully had tried to push away from herâand in that strange way, sheâd been more honest with Rogue than anyone else, by the simple act of not acting.Â
She knew then a special name was stupid thing to ask for, not when she still called her Rogue. âAnnaâ, she tried in her mind. Rogue left a clear image; southern woman, brown hair, weirdly perfect white streak, makes wearing gloves all the time look good. Anna was nothing, a static fuzz Kitty wouldnât dare reach for. ( Though, Kitty reasoned in her own head, how many people called her Anna? Just Remy? Then again, Kitty never really knew what those two talked about, their accents drowned out any understanding she had of what they were actually sayingâlike two negatives, they cancelled each other out ). She wouldnât even think to try Anna Marie, that sounded like someoneâs grandma.
âH-hey,â she started, halting suddenly in her steps, âhow does it feel for you when weâŚâ Kitty trailed off, hoping suggestion would fill in the gaps she was too afraid to. âDoes it feelâŚbad?â She felt a little like an insecure boy in the aftermath of his first sexual experience, trying to ask if it was good as though the answer would be anything other than ânoâ. In the end she decided she didnât want to know the answer and held up her hands and shook her head, âs-sorry, forget I asked.â At least this way she could pretend it wasnât bad at all, maybe it felt like a hug from the inside out. âAnd Iâm sorry, Iâm being a jerk, arenât I? Asking you to hurt someone just because Iâm too weaââ Like divine intervention, Shadowcat tumbled out of the brick wall beside Kitty and forced her alternative self to the ground with an angry snarl.Â
âI take it back,â Kitty shrieked, turning her head to avoid Shadowcatâs claws, âplease hurt her!â
Rogue looked at Kitty for a long moment after she said that Remy as a vampire -- or at least the concept of it -- was kind of hot. Her mouth fell open and for a few more beats, she was still quiet. âWhat did ya jus' say?â It was a joke. It had to be. But all this nervous energy was throwing Rogue off. Should she agree that maybe it was -- would have been if Remy had actually known her, but even pretending for a second that it would have been hot wasnât doing anything for Rogue. âI guess. Woulda been better if he recognized me. âparently heâs married where heâs from too.â It was no secret among the X-Men that she and Remy had been something to each other, even if that something kept getting torn apart. (But seeing a Remy that didnât know who she was? It stung in a way that Rogue hadnât expected.)Â
Was this the longest conversation they had? Rogue was learning more about Kitty in these few seconds than she had in the years they had spent together at the mansion. Her mentions of old TV shows that Rogue knew by name only but hadnât seen -- there were a lot of things that Rogue had missed out on. When she arrived at the mansion she hadnât tried to fit in with the other students there, she was content to live of the outskirts of their lives because she knew what her powers could do, intentionally or not. So, when people like Kitty pushed her away, Rogue never fought it. Maybe she should have made a better effort to prove she wasnât the same person she had been when she was in the Brotherhood but... had she changed? She had gone to the Professor for help with her powers, her motivations were selfish at best.Â
But these days she did feel different. Maybe she wasnât worthy of the title of X-Man, but, she knew that sheâd die for any of them. They were a twisted up sort of family, but they were family.Â
âYa did?â She wondered what was happening at the mansion now that Jean was back -- and what sort of things were said. Not just the excited whispers of Jean being back -- but what was being said about Rogue. She tried not to think about it, but it was still there, a whisper in the back of her mind that she was past the point of no return. There were no olive branches to be extended, no fixing what had been done. Jean was alive, yes, but that didnât make the fact Rogue had been the one to kill her any less painful. (Or maybe Rogue was too far into her own head to see straight.) âShe back tâ teachinâ already?â Rogue had been so focused on the man she had put in the hospital that she hadnât gotten around to asking what Jean was doing now that she was back. (Her mind, during that conversation, had once again dropped to a dark place, knowing Jean was back meant the Pheonix was back -- and there was a chance there would be a repeat of what had happened before. She was glad her sister was back, but scared all the same.)Â
âI ainât callinâ ya cinnamon.â Rogue didnât call anyone something else special -- Remyâs previous contact name was the closest thing to a nickname outside of âsugarâ that she had given anyone. But that was Remy. Always the exception. But even that wasnât a nickname that she spoke aloud. âBesides -- cinnamon ainât exactly a nickname. Nicknames are supposed to be shorter, Kitty.â Was she supposed to call her Kitty? Or was that name reserved for X-Men -- the very people she had run from only a few months ago -- could she have called her Kitty before she had run? (They had never been friends. Not really. Should she have called her Katherine? Miss Pryde? Did anyone call her that?)Â
How -- how did it feel? Rogueâs mouth felt dry the second those words left Kittyâs mouth. How was she supposed to respond? The truth felt harsh but... didnât Kitty deserve the truth? After everything that had happened? But then Kitty retracted her question and Rogue wasnât sure what stung more -- Kitty asking the question, or not wanting to hear the answer. Her mouth opened and she contemplated answering the question -- to just saying what she felt when Kittyâs hand fumbled through her body? What was left behind? Rogue opened her mouth and the words were right there --- on the tip of her tongue. But she didnât say it. She couldnât. Kitty didnât want to know and the last thing that Rogue wanted to do was cause Kitty more pain after everything that had happened --- after all the pain that Rogue had already caused. And there was nothing nice about what happened when Kitty phased through her, and how would she phrase that? Ya leave behind your most intense thoughts at the moment -- so right now all I felt was how much ya hate me?
None of that came out. Rogue merely nodded her head as Kitty kept rambling on, offering a polite smile as Kitty walked back everything she had just said and asked of Rogue. But Kitty was cut short and Rogue blinked. It was -- another Kitty. How many doubles of her -- of the people she knew would show up? Rogue moved without hesitation, kicking Shadowcat in the side, not holding back her strength while she tore off one of her gloves and wrapped it around the throat of Kittyâs doppelganger. She could feel it immediately -- the flood of emotions, of memories -- everything. Rogue closed her eyes and built that wall in her mind, silencing this Kitty before she had a chance to root herself in Rogueâs mind. Focusing on the only other thing she could, Rogue looked at Kitty. The one she knew. And wavered while she held on. âWhen ya touch me -- or donât I guess -- ya only leave behind the loudest thing in your head.â Rogue was heaving as she tried to focus. âRight now? All I felt was hate.âÂ









