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Janaina Medeiros
Today's Document
One Nice Bug Per Day
Not today Justin
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Product Placement
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Love Begins
Fai_Ryy
taylor price
macklin celebrini has autism
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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ellievsbear
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art blog(derogatory)
if i look back, i am lost
seen from Peru
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Ukraine
seen from Argentina
seen from Peru
seen from Chile
seen from France
seen from Ecuador
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from Lithuania
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
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seen from United States
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@c0smic-eyes01
About
Main Blog: Defythesky01
Trigger Warnings: Tagged In Post or Tags: Read at Own Comfort
Mainly Marvel Focused//Fandoms Tagged Accordingly
All Works Orginally Posted on AO3
Long Fics Will Not Be Posted (Unless Demand Increases), however updates on AO3 will be linked on this blog
All Hate Comments Will Be Deleted and Blogs Will Be Blocked//No Exceptions
Everybody's Looking for Something
Sequel to this fic: Who Am I to Disagree?
Headcanon of Shiro getting Jean-Paul gifts comes from this post by @rcwaffles
Shiro’s eyes weigh heavily down on him, as the taxi pulls up at the gates of the Xavier School.
He has just spent eleven hours on a plane from Japan to California, another three hours waiting to change planes, and finally hopped aboard a five-hour plane from Los Angels to New York, with very little time to sleep in between.
“You sure this is the right address?” The taxi driver glances at the gates of Xavier’s wearily.
Although the school had never delt with any attacks from its neighboring humans, the concept of a home for new mutants struggling with their newfound powers as well as acting as the headquarters for the X-Men did cause some distress in certain people.
“Is there a problem?” Shiro asks.
He lets a small blaze of fire flick off his finger and wrap around his thumb, before extinguishing it and letting the ashes crumple onto the seat. He watches as the driver tries to hid his squirms.
“Not a problem at all.” He says. “So long as you have the money to pay your total.”
He points at meter which has racked up a hefty sum.
“Here.” Shiro pulls out his wallet and tosses his card to the driver.
Once everything is settled, Shiro collects his bags from the back of the truck and makes his way into the mansion.
“I’m back!” He calls, suitcase clicking against the floor in the strange silence of Xavier’s.
The school has never been this quiet before.
“Hmm…” Shiro mutters.
He should’ve stayed home, at least there people knew how to give a proper welcome.
CRASH!
Something hefty slams against the back of Shiro’s head, causing him to drop his suitcase and the plastic bag he was carrying.
“Who?” He shouts as he spins around.
Looking out the broken window he can see a group of children scurrying away, a baseball bat slung over one girl’s shoulder and a boy wearing a baseball mitt grabbing her arm as two adults approach the broken window.
“Evil, little…”
“Relax, Shiro.” John Proudstar’s face appears in the hole.
“Relax?” Shiro snaps. “Those brats…”
“Are children.” Sean Cassidy’s Irish accent can be heard as he makes his way over to John. “Besides it was an accident.”
“A really expensive accident.” John says.
Sean gives a carefree shrug. “Not coming out of my wallet.”
“Here’s your ball.” Shiro picks the baseball up and throws it through the hole.
It slides through easily, knocking against John’s chest, and rolling onto the ground. He glances back at Shiro.
“Where is everyone?” Shiro asks glancing around the halls.
He now knows that most of the students are outside, but he felt like there were typically more people hanging around the halls of Xavier’s. Unless they were all outside, surely he would’ve seen such a large group of people on the lawn as he was coming in.
“Storm, Colossus, Xavier, and Nightcrawler are on a mission.” John tells him.
“And you two are here because?” Shiro asks.
“Someone has to watch the kids.” Sean says.
“And the twins?” Shiro glances outside. “Are they with you?”
“No.” John frowns sourly, crossing his arms as his eyes turn from Shiro to the grass.
Sean places a hand on his partner’s back and gives it a rub. “Jeanne-Marie, left a few days ago, while you were in Japan.”
“Did Northstar go with her?” Shiro asks.
He bites his tongue hard, trying not to let his anger show, but the trails of smoke emitting from his arms and hand say otherwise.
It would explain the lack of voicemails he got from Jean-Paul while he was out. At first Shiro took delight in not being hassled twenty-four seven and actually getting to enjoy his visit home, but now it was concerning.
“He’s locked himself in his room.” Sean tells him.
“Like he’s the victim here and not the reason Jam left.” John sighs.
“Johnny…” Sean starts.
“What?” John shrugs. “It’s true.”
Shiro knows that most boyfriends are supposed to jump in and defend their partners, regardless of if the situation at hand is actually their fault or not. However, knowing the twins…
“I’m going to go check on him.” Shiro says, picking up his bags.
“Fair warning, he left yesterday and came back wasted.” John calls.
“How do you know he was drunk?” Sean asks.
“I saw him wrestling a bush at three in the morning.”
“That sounds like something Jean-Paul would do regardless if he was drunk or not.”
“Fair.”
Shiro doesn’t say anything, he’s too busy trying to brace himself for what kind of mess he’s going to find when he opens Jean-Paul’s bedroom door.
Jean-Paul Beaubier is dying.
Or that’s what it feels like.
His stomach is twisted in knots and burns intensely every time he tries to move.
His head feels like someone ran over it with a semi-truck.
His mouth is dusty and dry.
‘I’m never drinking again.’ He thinks.
Granted, he said that last time and that resolution went out the window the moment Jeanne-Marie left.
He groans as he curls up in a ball, their argument bashing against his skull.
“I never want to see you again!” Jeanne-Marie shouted.
“Promise?” Jean-Paul huffed, not thinking she’d actually follow through with it.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’ His brain sings.
Jean-Paul buries his face into his pillow.
He wishes he actually was dying.
Maybe Jeanne-Marie would come back if he was.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
Jean-Paul groans as the rapping at his door continues.
“Go away!” He screams.
He doesn’t want to deal with John or Sean, or whichever child they sent to confront him.
“It’s Shiro!” The voice from the other side calls.
He doesn’t want to deal with him either.
What kind of boyfriend goes on vacation and doesn’t even bother to call?
“Leave me alone!” Jean-Paul screams.
There’s a moment of silence as Jean-Paul waits for the sound of Shiro’s footsteps.
“I brought gifts.”
Jean-Paul sighs. “Come in.”
There’s a creek as the door opens, Jean-Paul hisses as the hallway light stings his eyes. He turns over to the covered window, as Shiro places a white plastic bag next to him and a cup on his bedside.
“John told me you weren’t feeling well.” Shiro says as he takes a seat by Jean-Paul’s feet.
“I feel like death.”
“You look it.” Shiro notes the smudged eye liner on Jean-Paul’s face. His skin gives a soft luminescent glow that is visible in the dark, accentuating his sickly palor. His blue eyes are bloodshot.
“Thanks.” Jean-Paul grumbles as he gives Shiro’s legs a kick.
“If your going to act like this, I might as well just take these back.” Shiro reaches for the bag, but Jean-Paul snatches it out of his hand as he begins to rifle through it.
He has a pretty good guess at what Shiro got him.
Back when they were talking Jeanne-Marie said her brother was impossible to shop for.
He already had everything one could possibly want.
The wealth he had accumulated from skiing went towards nice clothes, expensive technology, tasteful furniture, amongst other things.
The only thing he actually liked outside of superheroing was skiing and with all the brand deals he had accepted he was well in stock when it came to gear.
When it came to birthdays and holidays most people just resorted to gift cards and cash.
Not Shiro though.
Despite being much wealthier than Jean-Paul, Shiro didn’t tend to get him expensive things. Rather his gifts leaned towards more personal.
Well as personal as Shiro could get.
Since they started dating Shiro tended to scour his and Jean-Paul’s conversations for gifts his boyfriend would potentially like.
Such as…
Tickets to a movie, Jean-Paul joked about wanting to see just to experience its terribleness in theaters (the movie was terrible and the date downright miserable). Take out dinner from a place Jean-Paul mentioned going to once (Shiro had missed the part where he said the food was awful). As well as one memorable instance in which Jean-Paul mentioned enjoying cheese, Shiro came back home from the grocery store with a plastic bag filled with all manner of dairy products. Swiss, parmesan, shredded, sticks, you name it, it was all in there.
Shiro liked getting him gifts (and Jean-Paul supposed there were worse qualities a boyfriend could have). When he left the mansion, even just to pick something up from the post office, he’d return with something for Jean-Paul.
Now that he was back from a weekend in Japan, Jean-Paul was curious as to what was inside the bag.
His fingers ripped open the tightly knotted handles as he dug through it. Slowly Jean-Paul pulled out:
A set of bubbly star stickers
A packet of strawberry flavored Chapstick
Gum
A magazine with his face on it, that Jean-Paul didn’t even remember posing for
He flashes the gum in Shiro’s face. “Is this your way of trying to tell me something?”
“You told me you liked gum.” Shiro says. “You liked having it for ski trips.”
Jean-Paul shrugs and carefully begins opening the package.
“That being said you could use it.”
Without thinking Jean-Paul chucks the packet at the wall.
“Get out.”
“Seriously, what did you have last night? It smells like something died in there.”
“Get out!”
Shiro stands up and makes his way to the door. “Fine, I leave for a weekend, and you don’t even care.”
“I’ve been dealing with things, Shiro!”
“If you treat her, like you treat me, it’s no wonder she left.”
“So you’re leaving too?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what I heard!”
Shiro sighs. “Whatever, I’m too tired to deal with you.”
He marches towards the door.
He comes home and Jean-Paul doesn’t even care. Just locks himself in his room and complains about the person he wants to be giving him attention isn’t giving him attention. Like Shiro isn’t even there.
Shiro goes to open the door but pauses when something catches his eye.
On Jean-Paul’s desk their used to be a lamp.
That same lamp is curled up in the corner of the room; its glass base is shattered. Colorful ties scattered against the carpet. The neck has been snapped and shade torn. The only thing remotely intact is the bulb.
“I’m going to stop getting you gifts, if that’s how you treat them.” Shiro gestures to the lamp.
He storms over to Jean-Paul’s bed, opens the plastic bag, and begins gathering up the candies and the magazine.
Jean-Paul’s wrist jets out and latches onto Shiro’s wrist as his fingers wrap around the Chapstick.
“I’m sorry.” He mutters.
His voice is sticky and sour, Shiro can tell he’s trying to choke back a sob.
“I’m sorry about the lamp…and I’m sorry I didn’t call…and I’m sorry…”
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ His brain repeats. ‘I’m sorry, Jeanne-Marie.’
He bites down on his lip and buries his face deep into his pillow.
He’s not crying in front of Shiro. That’s not happening.
He just wants him to take his things and go.
Instead Shiro’s hand relinquishes the bag and makes its way to Jean-Paul’s bare shoulder.
“What were you two fighting about anyway?” He asks.
“I didn’t say anything that bad.” Jean-Paul mutters.
‘Or anything worse than I’ve already said.’
Not that it matters.
Jeanne-Marie won’t return his calls. His text messages won’t go through. He’s blocked on all her socials. She’s even changed her email address.
She actually is never coming back this time.
And it’s all his fault.
Shiro crawls onto the bed, lying right next to Jean-Paul.
“She’ll come back.” He says running his hands down Jean-Paul’s arms in an attempt to comfort him.
He’s not entirely convinced of that though.
Jean-Paul has said a lot of terrible things to Jeanne-Maire and she in return.
However it had never caused her to leave the school before.
And if Jean-Paul’s not telling him what he said, than it must be really bad.
His words must not sound convincing to Jean-Paul either, because the speedster just buries his head further in his pillow.
“You know…” Shiro takes a deep breath. “I have a sister.”
Jean-Paul lifts his head from the pillow and glances over at him. “You never told me that.”
“For good reason.” Shiro says. “We’re not talking.”
He and Jean-Paul never got this personal. They knew somethings about each other’s lives before joining the X-Men. Shiro knew that Jean-Paul was orphaned at a young age, but that came from Jeanne-Marie’s story about growing up in a Catholic Girls’ School. He also remembered Jean-Paul saying something about once being in the circus before becoming an Olympic skier. That was it.
Jean-Paul knows even less about Shiro. He knew that before joining the X-Men he had tried to be Japan’s very own Captain America. To some interesting results. He also knew he had a cousin named Mariko, who he visited every time he went to Tokyo.
Not much else.
Certainly nothing about a sister.
“Why aren’t you talking?” Jean-Paul asks.
His fingers have found his way to Shiro’s hair and are pulling the stands through his thumbs. Shiro doesn’t complain this time, there the one thing that are stopping his heart from pounding out of his chest.
“Because I did something very bad to her.” Shiro says.
“How bad?”
“What did you say to Jeanne-Marie?”
Jean-Paul presses his lips together.
Which Shiro appreciates, because no matter how bad the thing Jean-Paul did to Jeanne-Marie was, it would never compare to what Shiro did to Leyu.
He killed her father.
His father.
Their father.
Which was still a weird thing to say, even in his own head.
Maybe he wasn’t the one pulling the trigger, but he still played a hand in it.
If he just backed down when given the choice, his their father would still be alive.
It was far too late for that.
Jean-Paul doesn’t say anything as he reaches for the drink Shiro left on his bedside table. He’s learned not to push Shiro for information about his family. He’s lucky enough to have Mariko’s name.
He places the drink to his mouth and swallows.
Then immediately spits it out.
“Urgh!” He groans. “Blueberry, really?”
Shiro glances at him as Jean-Paul sets the cup aside and grabs a tissue off the dresser and wipes his tongue with it. “I hate blueberry.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Shiro groans.
Considering that was supposed to be his smoothie.
“I’m tired.” Jean-Paul grumbles as he casts the tissue aside and curls up on the bed.
“Me too.” Shiro agrees.
He’s been up too long to deal with this many emotions.
“Get some rest.” He tells Jean-Paul as he pulls himself off the mattress.
Only for Jean-Paul to grab his elbow and pull him back down.
“Stay?” He asks.
Everything in Shiro’s being is telling him to say no. That staying with Jean-Paul will result in the other man thrashing around as he slept, keeping Shiro up, and inevitably accidentally kicking him off the bed.
However he doesn’t have the energy to resist the look Jean-Paul is giving him and gives a sigh.
“Fine.” He lowers his head onto one of Jean-Paul’s pillows, as the man next to him leans against his shoulder.
Shiro wouldn’t admit it, but it’s almost nice.
As their breaths lower to soft hums, Jean-Paul finds Shiro falling asleep first. His snores quickly turning into mumbling as he falls into a deeper and deeper slumber.
Jean-Paul turns to curl up onto his own pillow but Shiro’s arm spreads over Jean-Paul’s chest, preventing him from moving any further.
The speedster laughs.
He is never letting Shiro live this down.
He wraps his fingers around the hand Shiro is using to keep him down and rubs his thumb against Shiro’s knuckles.
“Night.” Jean-Paul tells him, although it’s closer to one in the afternoon.
And closes his eyes.
Shut Up, This is Love
TWs: Major Character Death, Child Abuse, Abusive Family Memebers, Suicide Attempt, Internalized Homphobia, Manipulation, Mind Alteration, Self Hated, and Internalized Homophobia
Based on the 2004 Rogue solo series
As she grips Shiro’s hand, his atomic flames preventing her touch from incapacitating him, as they fly over the streets of Tokyo, Rogue’s brain is still dizzy.
Her and Shiro’s memories knock around in her head, like balls on a pool table. Flying every which way, a blurry undiscernible mess, as she tries to keep track of them all.
“Do not make me choose…”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw…”
“You have done well Shiro…”
“You’re one of the only people I ever truly loved…”
“Then Sunfire bids you farewell....”
“No, you need that to save yourself…”
“You are a threat to everyone you come in contact with!”
“You took my life!”
“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!”
“If you truly love me—you’ll want what’s best for me…”
Absorbing memories is like being lost in a drunken and induced haze. The swamps of Mississippi and Shiro’s childhood home merge together. Mystique shifts between Irene, Shiro’s Uncle Tomo, and his father. Like a pack of playing cards being shuffled around on the table.
Rogue looks down at her father—no Shiro’s father—who is suddenly Carol Danvers cooped up in her hospital bed. Her cousin Shiro’s cousin is sitting across from her at a high-end restaurant. Quickly replaced by Kurt giving her a devilish smile in the X-Men’s kitchen. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Remy and seconds later she’s pointing a sharp knife to her stomach.
Their guilt, their joy, their pain, it merges into one heavy emotional cocktail. Seeping through Rogue’s blood and powering through her brain.
“Don’t take another step, Ma’am.”
Those were the first words Rogue said to Mystique.
She had her gun pointed at her, screaming that she’d blow her away if she so much as moved an inch.
It didn’t matter to Rogue that she had never held a gun before and that looking back she was more likely to blow off her own fingers than cause any harm to Mystique. Her eyes were trained on the bracelet that was wrapped around the dark-haired woman’s arm.
Instead of backing away in terror or calling for help, Mystique just laughed.
“They call you “Rogue” don’t they?”
“That’s the nicest thing folks these parts say about me…” Rogue spat, not lowering her weapon. “What about it?”
“Well Rogue, I don’t think you want to hurt me.” Mystique says. “I don’t think you want to hurt anybody.”
Rogue stared back at the woman, her eyes unblinking. How could this complete stranger know her so well?
They continued to talk, Mystique lowering down her mask. Her dark locks, pale skin, and bright blue eyes giving way to rusty red hair, sky blue scales, and fiery yellow pupils.
She wraps her arms around the frightened girl and Rogue does not pull back, rather, she leans in and soaks up Mystique’s words.
She’s going to take her home to live with her and another nice lady. That she’s always wanted a daughter and she’s the luckiest person in the world to have met Rogue. Wasn’t Rogue tired of spending her nights lurking around the backwoods and wouldn’t she like to come home with her and sleep in a nice warm bed.
Rogue’s so overwhelmed that she almost misses the part where Mystique says that she’s a mutant and that Rogue is destined to be one too.
Rogue stares back at her.
At the time she couldn’t think of anything much better than growing up to become the woman standing above her.
A stick slams against Rogue’s shoulder, bruising it.
She yelps and nearly falls over but is held in place by a strong hand.
“Straighten up, Shiro!” A deep voice commands. “I have no use for weaklings.”
“I am sorry!” She tells him.
The words spilling out of Rogue’s mouth are not her own, they’re in perfect Japanese and yet she can understand them perfectly.
This was definitely something that happened to Shiro.
“No!” The stick slams back into Rogue’s Shiro’s back once again. “Never apologize, never show weakness!”
This quickly turns into a rant about the Americans. Their Western oppressors who had destroyed everything Japan had built. Desecrating their nation’s very soil.
Shiro nods along.
This is true he knows it for a fact.
It’s in the books his uncle gives him. The films he plays on the projector. The thing he reminds Shiro of every waking hour, of every single second, of every day.
“Doesn’t father work with the Americans?” Shiro asked once when he was little more than six years old.
It’s not something he remembers his father every explaining to him, but something he saw in a newspaper his uncle had left on the table. Saburo Yoshida, Diplomat to United States, Makes First Visit to UN, the headline read.
“Your father is a traitor!” Uncle Tomo spat.
Shiro didn’t question this at the time. He could count on one hand the number of times he met his father. He made a quick stop to Tomo’s home after one of his trips. It lasted thirty minutes, he said a few niceties to his son, before giving him a piece of candy. Which Tomo threw out the moment his brother walked out the door.
Shiro brought this up again once when he was older, he barely flinched at the sting of his uncle’s hand against his cheek.
“The Americans killed your mother, something he seems all too eager to forget, considering he married that social climber.”
“Father got remarried?” Shiro’s hands ache to rub the side of his face, but he doesn’t move. “When?”
“Three months ago.” Tomo says.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
There’s another slap and Shiro’s vision goes white. He blinks his eyes trying to regain his vision as Tomo continues his rant.
“He didn’t want you to know, Shiro!” Tomo snaps. “Why do you think he didn’t invite you to the wedding!”
He tosses a something at Shiro who grasps the blur with his hands before dropping the sword into the soil. His uncle Tomo rushes towards him with his own blade, causing Shiro to run while diving for his own. Snatching it up and using it to block Tomo’s before his uncle can stab him.
Using all his force Shiro pushes Tomo off of him, causing the older man to slid backwards, nearly falling onto the grass.
“You’re getting better.” Tomo remarks. “Though you’re still holding that thing wrong. Straighten up!”
Shiro moves his hands along the hilt of the blade and bits his bottom lip, so Tomo doesn’t see the grin slitting across his face.
Have you ever felt that thrill of first love?
The feeling you get when that cute girl in biology asks you for a pencil?
When your best friend holds your hand just as they have a million times before, but today it feels different?
When you’re at a party dancing with friends, you spin and knock yourself into the table, but someone grabs you before you hit the floor, you laugh it off, but you know you’ll never be the same again?
That happened to Rogue the morning Irene placed her pancakes in front of her and Mystique glanced up from her newspaper, a headline about the Mutant Meance, gracing their local gazette.
“We’re still on for training this morning, right Rogue?” She gives Irene a kiss on the cheek as the younger woman (although if you saw the two you’d think it was the other way around) places a mug of coffee in her hands.
“Raven, my pancakes are burning…” Irene sighs but doesn’t attempt to move.
“You’ll live!” Mystique says between kisses.
“Gross!” Rogue giggles.
“You live in my house for free, you don’t get to complain.” Mystique turns back to her as Irene walks over to the kitchen. “So training, after breakfast?”
“Actually,” Rogue says as she scraps the rest of her pancakes off her plate and into her mouth. “Cody asked if I could come over and join him by the river.”
“Cody?” Mystique asks. “Who’s Cody?”
“He’s a friend.” Rogue says as she picks up her plate and takes it to the sink.
“I don’t know by the way you talk about him,” Irene says. “He sounds more like a boyfriend.”
“Gross.” Rogue scrunches up her nose and runs to the door. She grabs her shoes which sit at their place by the mat.
“I don’t like this boy.” Mystique declares.
“How could you if you never even met him?” Rogue shoves her foot into the sneaker.
“I don’t need to have met him.” Mystique says. “Not when I have mother’s intuition.”
Rogue’s heart skips a beat.
She’s never called Mystique mom to her face, but in the time she’s lived with her and Destiny, she’s come to consider them as such. The fact that Mystique considers Rogue her daughter floods the young girl with joy.
She briefly considers staying and taking up Mystique on training, but she doesn’t.
Gotta play it cool.
“I’ll be back at eight!” Rogue calls as she finishes lacing up her shoes and rushes at the door.
“You’ll be back at six!” Irene calls.
Rogue runs through the forest, her heart soaring in her chest as if it had grown wings.
She meets up with Cody and things are like they always are.
He doesn’t look any different.
Same scruffy blond hair, same dark eyes, same zits forming constellations across his forehead.
He teases Rogue, claims she can’t swing across the pond because she’s a girl.
She proves him wrong.
“Oof!” They cry in unison as Rogue falls back into him, her toes teetering on the edge of the cliff.
“Alright, you win.” Cody declares. “I was wrong.”
Rogue smiles. “That’s the first time you ever heard you say that.”
“And the only time.” Cody laughs.
Rogue lets out a sarcastic yawn. “Sure…ah!”
She almost falls forward, but Cody grabs her by the waist pulling her back.
“Watch out!”
Rogue sighs and leans back into Cody as he walks her away from the ledge, as he leans against the tree she’s expecting him to let go of her waist, but to her surprise he doesn’t.
She’s more surprised that she doesn’t want him to.
Cody leans forward and Rogue can feel the heat of his cheek press against hers. Her face goes red and she tries to focus on the lake.
Not on Cody’s adorable freckles, or his soft blond hair, or his brown eyes…
“What you looking at?” Cody turns his head in the direction Rogue’s staring at.
She turns back at him her eyes glancing back at his lips. Soft, sweet, and pink.
She leans forward without thinking and hears Cody gasp.
For a few seconds Rogue feels like she’s in heaven and then…
“Ro-gu-ah!”
Cody stops breathing, he falls backwards, his face flattening as he leans back into the tree.
“Cody!” Rogue cries, she rushes towards him but freezes.
Her mind is suddenly flooded with voices. As if she’s standing in the middle of a farmer’s market and not a quiet river by the woods.
“It’s a boy!”
“Happy birthday!”
“Cody, how you liking middle school?”
“Let’s play ball!”
“Why do you hang around that girl again?”
“She has such a funny name.”
“I hear her mom’s a…lesbian.”
“And that she’s one too.”
“Pfft…no way.”
“What you looking at?”
Rogue’s head clear’s through the brain fog as she falls to the ground, scraping her knees on tree roots, fire ants biting at her ankles, the sound of bird caws awakening her.
She stares at Cody who hasn’t moved an inch and she runs back home.
She burst through the door to see Mystique with her book open and Irene listening to the tv in the corners of her vision as she runs upstairs.
“You’re home early.” Mystique gets up and notices the panicked expression on Rogue’s face. “Is everything alright?”
She inches towards Rogue arm raised out, only to be startled back at the girl’s scream.
“Don’t touch me!” Rogue shouts as she turns and runs up the stairs. “Don’t touch me!”
She slams her bed room door shut and leans against it. Heavy breaths mixing with week sobs.
“Rogue…” Mystique knocks on the door which Rogue is quick to lock as the shapeshifter tries to open it. “You’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”
“Go away!” Rogue screams. “I’m a monster, a monster!”
Rogue’s not sure how long she sits there, head buried in her knees, jeans soaked with sobs.
Eventually she crawls onto her bed, the hot afternoon cooling as the sun lowers in the sky.
As her window darkens, she watches as the knob shifts around and in enters Mystique clutching a bobby pin in her free hand.
“I know you think this is scary, and I’m not going to tell you it isn’t.” Mystique said. “But I’ve been where you are before.”
‘No, you haven’t.’ Rogue thinks as she clutches her knees to her chest. ‘You might be a freak, but I’m a monster. I killed Cody and I’ll kill you next.’
She shoves herself towards the wall as Mystique takes a seat on the edge of Rogue’s bed.
“We’re going to get through this together, alright?”
Rogue’s body relaxes at those words.
It could be worse, she supposes. She has two older mutants willing to show her the way, most folks don’t have anybody.
Mystique then does something Rogue previously thought unthinkable.
She makes a mistake.
She places a blue hand on Rogue’s bitten up ankle.
Her eyes roll back in her head, red hair slamming against Rogue’s wall as she falls backwards, the rest of her body slopping across the back.
“Ah!” Rogue screams again. “Irene, Irene, Mystique—she needs…help…”
In the corner of her eye Rogue see’s Mystique standing tall against her mirror, but when she turns around it’s not Mystique standing there.
It’s Rogue’s own reflection.
She glances down at her own hands, blue as all get with nails as sharp as talons. She reaches up and touches her hair which is now red and several inches shorter.
Her golden eyes blink back at her.
Looking back Rogue wonders if Mystique really made a mistake at all.
Maybe she was just pushing her in the right direction.
The noise of traffic grates against her ears as she follows Uncle Tomo through the dark streets of Hiroshima.
In the decades since the war the city has been rebuilt. Streetlights glow softly, as Tomo leads Rogue down the roads towards a park where in front of a pond a stone archway sits and across from it a domed building, which stands apart compared to the rest of the city.
“These are all that remains of the ruins, Shiro.”
“Yes…I know…” She groans, her entire body feels like it’s going to collapse at any second. “But I don’t know why you want me to take this burnt soil into my hands.”
Uncle Tomo worked her to the bone that day. Chasing her through the grace, knocking her around with a sword, the stick leaving welts on her backside.
Her hands still sting from the blade of Tomo’s sword, and she shoves them in her pockets.
“You shall see.” Tomo pushes her down and Rogue throws her palms out to stop her face from colliding with the dirt. She lets out a hiss as the dirt mixes with the blood of her still clotting cuts.
Then she feels it…
A soft burning stirring in her chest, blooming brighter, sweat running down her face, as she coughs out:
“Argh!”
It runs through her body, striking hot against her veins. Up her arms into her fingers, down her legs and spiking against her toes.
There’s the smell of smoke and the next thing Rogue notices is the glow of red-hot sparks running up her arms.
She’s on fire.
“I was right!” Tomo gasps. “You are a mutant…as I always suspected!”
Rogue’s brain freezes, like the scratch of a record slowing to a halt and she realizes that this is not one of her memories.
This is Shiro’s.
Shiro stares at his uncle in shock. How is Tomo not panicking?
He’s on fire!
Except as the shock begins to thaw, Shiro realizes that the fire doesn’t burn or hurt. That if anything, the flames running up his arms and fanning through his fingers, tickle.
His uncle is right, he’s a mutant. A creature born with at first dormant but later turned deadly powers.
Tomo grabs him off the ground by the shirt and Shiro can feel the flames vanish around him.
“Now speak…” Tomo commands. “Speak the sacred oath which I have taught you since childhood.”
He leans his head back, exhaustion leaving his body, as he loudly promises that he will seek revenge on the people who wronged his country, his people. That he will smite any enemy that stands in his way.
“Well said!” Shiro flinches as Uncle Tomo pats him on the back. “I always sensed such power would be yours, when you come of age.”
Tomo grabs Shiro by the shoulder and Shiro braces himself for what’s coming next…
But nothing could have prepared him for this.
Uncle Tomo spins him around, Shiro’s chest colliding with his and he wraps his arms around him. Shiro’s chin smooshes against his Uncle’s wide shoulder as his Uncle’s arms clasp around Shiro’s torso.
“Soon, you shall wield it in a way the world shall never soon forget.”
Shiro leans into his uncle’s grasp, hesitant at first, but when Tomo doesn’t move he takes it that it’s safe for him to toss his arms over his shoulders.
“Thank you.” He mutters.
Have you ever done something bad?
Unforgivably bad.
Something so awful, that no matter what you say or what you do there’s no undoing it?
Rogue remembers the look the way Carol looked at her, face red with rage, hair glowing as bright as the sun, Rogue stared back at her sharply breath hitched in her throat, body still sore from the way Carol tossed her through the front yard at the X-Men’s school.
Rogue has never met Carol before today, but searing sneer the other woman gives her, makes her stomach lurch.
The rest of the X-Men rush out of the school. Ororo, Kitty, Illyana, Charles Lilandra, Piotr and Kurt, all rushing to Rogue’s aid.
Even after all the terrible things she did to them, they still want to help her.
Rogue shakes her head.
‘Idiot, they’re heroes, that’s their job.’
“So long as Rogue, remains under my roof Binary, she has my protection!” Charles announces as Lilandra rolls his chair up to her.
“How can you say that Charles!” Binary shouts. “After what she did to me!”
Ororo marches up to Binary, the leader of the X-Men marches onto the lawn. “The child repents my friend and has been forgiven!” She announces voice smeared with sarcasm. “Behold our newest X-Man.”
Rogue’s brain swirls.
X-Man.
She’s part of the X-Men now.
How quickly things change.
“Is this true?” Binary scoffs. “I wouldn’t have thought you capable of such cruelty.”
“What are you going on about?” Rogue raises her voice at her attacker. “What’s my life got to do with you, huh? We never met before today?”
Her fist itches, waiting for the perfect moment to jam it into Binary’s jaw.
“Perhaps this will help!”
In an instant Binary’s flesh cools, no longer orange, she has pale skin, with shining blond locks. Her blue eyes bore down into road and the mutant’s tongue goes dry as her fingers uncurl.
“Carol Danvers.” Rogue mutters.
“The woman whose life you destroyed.” She barks bitterly.
And Rogue can’t imagine any better way of delivering it.
She stares at her feet.
She doesn’t know what to say.
She doesn’t think there is anything to say.
“I’m sorry for ruining your life?” “I’m sorry I took your powers and left you in a coma for god knowns how long.” “I’m sorry you have to pick up the pieces and there’s nothing I can do to help.”
She doesn’t imagine that going over well.
“I now possesses the power to do the same to you.” Carol says.
Rogue glances up at her before moving her eyes back down.
If Carol wants to kill her she can.
Rogue will let her rip her to shreds. Burn out her heart. Sear her until there’s nothing left.
It’s what she deserves, after all.
“Professor if Rogue stays, I go.” Ororo tells him.
“My apologies herr professor,” Kurt adds. “But we all go.”
The professor launches into one of his speeches, listing how not so long ago many of them were in a similar place to the girl that stood before them. “The same argument holds true for Rogue, does it not?” He states. “Of course, there’s a risk in accepting her—but consider the alternative. At least she has the chance for a better life. Deny her and we condemn her outright…and that I will never do.”
Each of the X-Men slowly concede, all giving their own begrudging statement. Carol Danvers converts back to Binary and blasts off, declaring the X-Men enemies of hers.
Everyone heads back inside, leaving Rogue out in the cold.
She stares back at the mansion, which looms above her casting a dark shadow in the sun’s heat.
She could still go back to Mystique.
She hasn’t been gone for even a full day, if she turns back now, there’s still the hope she’ll take her back.
For all her faults, at least she pretends to care about Rogue.
And isn’t false love better than no love at all?
The last of the meddlesome X-Men lower themselves down to the Earth below and Rogue gives a tired sigh.
“The Capitol building shall yet go up in sun spawned flames!” She cries.
“Then cosign it to flames, you who you once were, my son?”
Rogue spins around.
Although the rest of the Capitol with its politicians, esteemed guests, and interns have vacated the premises, her father has chosen to remain. Saburo Yoshida stands on the balcony first raised.
“But only if you dare murder the one who stands upon it.”
Rogue freezes in midair and stares at the man standing below her.
“Leave this place!” She demands. “I do not wish to harm you! But Uncle Tomo has shown me the Americans are our foes!”
“Tomo is a sick man, Shiro. Feeding the fire of his hatred with the embers of a long dead war!” Saburo claims. “Renounce him… less this glory becomes a waking nightmare for two nations!”
Her head spins the years spent with her uncle, his daily speeches, all the training reels against the sight of her father standing boldly on the balcony.
She can’t kill him, he’s her father, she can’t.
But Tomo, the man who raised her since she was a toddler. Taught her the way of the world while her father was traveling it. She can’t let him down.
Not after everything he’s done for her.
She pleads with him, but Saburo shakes his head.
“Yes choose, my son…” He tells him. “And choose now.”
“You need not choose, Shiro!” Tomo leaps onto the balcony, his gun glints against the sun as he points it at his brother.
Rogue starts to move towards him when…
KRAK!
Saburo falls forward, flipping off the balcony down to the grass below.
“Father!” She screams, her eyes blazing as she glances up at Tomo.
“Shiro…” He starts as he watches the fire emit out of his nephew’s palms.
The blast hits Tomo, searing his chest, and knocking him onto the balcony.
She dives downwards after her father, who is sprawling on the blood-soaked grass.
“Father…father…” She tosses her mask off. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know.” Saburo mutters weakly.
Rogue’s blubbering heavily, her lips trembles, mixing her words as the fly out of her mouth, tears running down her face. Blood runs from Saburo’s onto her Shiro’s—she realizes with relief—hands.
With his last words, Shiro’s father goes limp in his arms. Pulse stopping, his eyes gazing deadly through his glasses at the sun above him.
Shiro doesn’t move nor say anything as his hands are cuffed behind his back, a large piece of metal clicked on his neck, his blood running cold as it powers on.
The police officers read him his rights, say he’s being charged with terrorism, third degree murder, second degree murder, amongst several other things.
He’s not really paying attention as he watches paramedics place his father’s body in a bag, from the window of the car.
A few hours after being booked and placed in a holding cell of a secure government facility, he’s told that his cousin is sending a lawyer to represent him.
“She says her name is Mariko Yashida.” The officer says. “Do you want to speak with her?”
Shiro shakes his head.
He’s never heard of his cousin, let alone met her. Based on the way Uncle Tomo acted as he got ready for family functions Shiro assumed that the rest of his family wanted nothing to do with him.
Apparently Tomo misled him about a lot of things.
But Shiro doesn’t want to think about that right now.
He just stares at the walls of the prison cell and tries to let his mind go blank.
Rogue has been working with Kurt for years before she learns he’s her brother.
She liked the fuzzy little elf, but they weren’t close by any means. Rogue would be lying that every time Kurt spoke of his brothers and sister back home, his adoptive loving mother, and his youth spent in the German circus her heart tightened with jealousy.
So unless they were on a mission, she tried to keep away from him.
BAMF!
Not that it always worked.
Rogue froze to a halt as she glances up at the teleporter, who was hanging from the ceiling by his feet.
“I got chocolates in the mail from my mother?” Kurt plops one in his mouth. “Want some?”
His fuzzy tale wrapped around one of the sweets and holds it out to her.
“No thanks.” Rogue brushes past Kurt and makes her way down the hall, hoping he gets the message.
BAMF!
He does not.
“Rogue, if this is about how I treated you, I am most sorry.” Kurt’s nails dig into the celling. “I really do want to make it up to you.”
Rogue takes the chocolate and tosses the heart shaped candy at the wall.
“I’m not mad about that.” She snaps.
As nice as Kurt is, she doesn’t want to be friends with him.
Being friends with Kurt would mean having to deal with him telling stories about his doting family back home. Hanging around his large group of close friends as Rogue faded in the background. Considering how many times someone on this team died being friends with Kurt would likely mean having to lose him.
And Rogue was done having to say goodbye.
Kurt sighs and drops from the ceiling, landing right in front of her.
“Tell me what you’re mad about and I’ll fix it.”
Rogue bits her lip and considers turning down the hallway.
“Please, Rogue, I feel terrible about how I’ve treated you.” Kurt pleads. “If you don’t want to be friends, I understand, but I hope you will give me a chance.”
“Like you gave me a chance?” Rogue snaps.
Kurt sighs. “You know what, that is fair.” He begins to walk away. “I’ll leave yo alone now, if that is what you want.”
Rogue glances out the corner of her eye at the elf. His sad eyes and sharp frown, tug at the heart she didn’t think she still had.
“Do you think it’s easy for me!” She shouts, spinning on her heels.
Kurt turns to her, eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Hearing about your perfect family all the time. How much your mother loves you, when I haven’t seen my own Daddy or Mama since I was a toddler!” She shouts. “My Aunt Carrie was meaner than a snake.”
Rogue’s body tingles at the thought of her. despite not having crossed paths with Carrie in nearly two decades, she could still feel the pain of her aunt’s brush tingle up her spine.
“The only person who ever cared about me was Mystique and now I’m questioning if that was even true!”
Since the incident with Carol, Rogue was aware that the only part of Rogue’s Mystique ever loved was her powers. How those powers could be of service to her and her cause.
Not the lonely girl they belonged to.
All Rogue ever wanted was love. The occasional hug and kiss. Somebody to belong to.
She was starting to doubt she was ever going to get that.
Kurt walks over to her, one hand in his pocket he digs around and pulls out another piece of chocolate. “If it makes you feel any better, I accidently killed my brother?”
He glances over at the window, that same sad look still in his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Kurt.” Rogue says.
She wants to place her hand on his shoulder. Ask him about what happened and assure him that everything was going to be okay.
But she can’t.
So instead Rogue takes the candy and bites into it with ease.
Rogue finds out that Kurt is her brother, while on a mission to protect Graydon Creed from the hands of Mystique.
Which is also the same mission that she finds out Graydon Creed is her brother.
What a wonderful family: Two terrorist mom’s, two half-brothers: one a fuzzy blue Catholic priest and the other a maniac hell bent on wiping his family off the face of the earth.
Rogue confronts Mystique about this when she corners her alone.
“Kurt and Creed, I can’t believe you took me in when they were out there.” She huffs. “You didn’t love me you just needed someone useful.”
“How could you say that!” Mystique snaps.
Rogue’s tongue curls back in silence.
“I love you Rogue, always have and always will.” She says. “You and Irene, you’re the loves of my life, and I can’t believe you would—” Her voice begins to falter.
Rogue wishes the tears falling down Mystique’s face were just a trick. Something to get her to lower her guard down. That this woman was an unfeeling monster, incapable of loving anyone but herself.
Rogue knows it to be true though and the worst part is that she wants it to be.
She can feel her heart soar.
She controls the impulse to run into Mystique’s arms, to cry out “Mama!”, and beg her to take her back.
This was all she ever wanted.
To be the love of someone’s life.
Even if it was battered, bruised, and bloodied.
“How sweet!”
She doesn’t, because out of the woods stumbles Creeds.
“Shame you never could afford your sons the same luxury.”
Rogue jumps in front of Mystique.
Hours later she and Kurt are stumbling over grass, having lost Mystique but escaped Creed.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” Kurt starts off.
“Talk about what?” Rogue’s mind is still mulling over the days events, pulling apart Mystique’s words.
“Us.” Kurt says.
Rogue turns her head to face him. “What do you mean us?”
“You and I are siblings Rogue.” Kurt says. “We share a mother.”
“I’m adopted.” Rogue reminds him.
“Doesn’t make a difference to me.” Kurt says.
“I tried to kill you.” Rogue says. “I’m sorry.”
Kurt—the wonderful man he was— should not want her as a sister. Mystique—as terrible as she is—should not want her as a daughter. Remy—for all his declarations of love—should not want her for a girlfriend.
Rogue was a monster.
They should all want her gone.
Kurt laughs. “That doesn’t make me feel any different.”
“Really?” Rogue asks.
“Not at all.” Kurt tells her.
“Sure lucked out in the adoptive sister department.”
Kurt shrugs. “None of my other siblings ever apologized for trying to kill me.”
Rogue lets out her own laugh.
If that day proved anything there she had worse options for a brother.
Rogue’s lawyers are good at their jobs.
Well they’re not actually her lawyers.
They’re employed by her uncle, Shingen Yashida, who sent some of Japan’s top lawyers to argue for her release from the American government.
They get all of her charges dropped.
She wasn’t responsible for the death of Saburo Yoshida, they argue. That was all Tomo’s doing.
She’s not responsible for Tomo’s death either. And if she was, he had a gun, she thought he was going to shoot her, it was self-defense.
As for the terrorism charges, those take a little more work.
She’s confused.
Emotionally disturbed.
Mentally unsound.
Tomo threatened to kill her if she didn’t do it. He beats the child, the doctor’s results prove it.
It doesn’t really matter what they say, the US government agrees to drop all charges against her. They will not pursue legal action against Rogue, her family, or the Japanese government.
She’s free to go.
And she didn’t even have to say a single word.
Rogue and the lawyers are boarded onto the private plane her uncle has set. The lawyers congratulate themselves by drinking, joking, and singing amongst each other.
Rogue tries to tune them out.
The only part of this celebration she enjoys is that after a whole week that infernal collar is finally off.
The touch down in Japan eighteen hours later. The lawyers head off, not bothering to ask Rogue where she plans on going or if she has a ride there.
Their jobs are done.
She could possibly fly back to her uncle’s home on the outskirts of Tokyo, but with the few hours sleep she’s amassed in prison and the several hours she’s spent wide awake on the plane she feels like she’s going to collapse onto the airport floor.
Rogue considers doing just that when a melodic voice rings out.
“Shiro!” It calls. “Shiro Yoshida.”
She turns around.
A woman with long dark hair, wearing clean professional looking clothes walks up to her.
“I’m Mariko Yashida.” She says. “Your cousin.”
Rogue doesn’t say anything as she stares at the woman, eyes not blinking.
“We spoke on the phone after your release.”
More like Mariko spoke on the phone, Rogue didn’t say anything, but even if she doesn’t remember her words, she recognizes her voice. The soft, melodic tone, that’s sweet as sugar.
“I’m taking you home, remember?” She reaches over to grab Rogue’s arm, but she jerks back.
“I’m not a five year old!” She snaps. “I can walk by myself!”
Mariko leans back. “Alright.”
He and Mariko get in a limousine, she gives instructions to the driver, uttering an address Rogue doesn’t recognize.
“I though you were taking me home!” She grumbles.
“Uncle Tomo’s home is still be investigated by the Public Security Intelligence Agency.” Mariko tells him. “I’m taking you back to my home.”
Rogue wants to open the door and jump out of the moving limousine. Wander around the city until she collapses.
Cousin or not she doesn’t want to go anywhere with this woman.
However, she knows she doesn’t have much choice. So she sulks in her seat, pouting as she watches the rest of the city goodbye.
Mariko takes him to a hotel, claiming that her father has rented it out while he does business in the city.
“He won’t be back until tomorrow, but he looks forward to meeting you.” She explains.
Rogue doesn’t say anything.
One of Mariko’s servants hands her a pair of clothes. A plain white pajama shirt with plastic buttons and a pair of matching pants.
It’s too early for her to crawl into bed, but she takes them willingly.
Anything is better than the prison jumpsuit she’d been encased in.
She changes in the bathroom. Showering first, cleaning off the sweat and grime that has accumulated over the past week. Before brushing her hair in the mirror, trying to avoid her own gaze the entire time.
After changing she wanders around the hotel room. Running her fingers against the walls, peaking into doors, chipping at the paint with her fingernails.
“Shiro!” Mariko calls. “Dinner’s ready!”
Rogue wanders around the penthouse some more, until he finds the kitchen. Hotel staff and Mariko’s aids have set out a delectable platter of food. It smells delicious and Rogue can feel the soft noodles, fresh greens, and warm drinks mess around in her mouth as he takes a seat. However she finds herself being unable to eat much more than half a bowl of rice.
Mariko keeps trying to make conversation as they eat.
“Do you want any salad?”
“Do you like that tea, or would you prefer some juice?”
“How old are you?”
“What do you like to do for fun?”
Her words are like knives pointed against Rogue’s skull. Mariko was making conversation as if her cousin whom she never previously met, hadn’t just tried to burn a foreign nation’s capital to the ground a week earlier.
“Do you have any friends you’d like me to call?” Mariko asks. “Anyone you’d like to know where you are?”
“Shut up!”
Mariko’s mouth drops open but she quickly closes it as Rogue Shiro gets up and storms out of the kitchen.
“Friends.” He mutters under his breath.
Shiro doesn’t have any friends.
The only two people he ever cared about are dead. He killed them. He doesn’t need Mariko trying to insert herself in their place.
He walks into the living room as the front door opens, a member of the kitchen staff claiming that he brought the chicken Mariko had requested.
The smell of burning flesh hits Shiro’s nose like a tidal wave and he rushes out of the living room and into the bathroom as fast as he can.
He doesn’t make it to the toilet but does manage to throw up in the sink.
Images flash around his mind. Tomo’s words searing hotter than fire. His father’s eyes gazing up at him. The feel of the metal cuffs…
Shiro spends the next hour or so sitting in the empty tub. Trying very hard not to think.
He eventually forces himself out and back into the living room, where Mariko, dressed in pajamas, is sitting a thick book pressed in her lap. The coffee table covered with highlighters, pencils, loose sheets of paper, and several calculators.
“What are you doing?” Shiro asks.
Mariko’s head shoots up from her text book in surprise.
“Shiro, you startled me.” She says.
“What are you doing?” Shiro asks, glancing at all the papers.
“I’m studying for my final on Friday.” Mariko explains.
“Your final?”
“My final exam.” Mariko reiterates.
Shiro stares at her, still confused.
“I’m a business major.” Mariko explains. “My statistics class has our final exam on Friday and I like to pass.”
“You’re in university?” Shiro takes a seat on the couch.
“My final year.” Mariko says. “Or it will be if I pass.”
Mariko complains that she did not spend twelve years of schooling plus another four at university, just to have to retake a year and nothing is going to stop her from failing.
Shiro can relate or thinks he can.
Uncle Tomo didn’t have him studying books all day, rather the blade.
And after all those years of training he wasn’t going to let them go to waste.
Or at least that’s how Shiro felt a week ago.
Now…
He isn’t sure what he wants to do with his life.
Mariko he finds, when she’s not asking him a billion and one questions, is rather nice.
She talks with him, although Shiro doesn’t have much to say and shares her snacks as she studies.
Shiro’s not sure what to do with people when their not yelling at him, or hitting him, or telling him what to do.
So being with Mariko is strange, but not entirely unpleasant.
He’s not sure how long that’s going to last.
"I’m going to bed!” Shiro declares tossing the wrapper of one of Mariko’s snacks away.
“Ok!” Mariko calls, waving as Shiro rushes down the hall. “Good night.”
Except once Shiro’s in his room, he doesn’t dive right into bed.
Instead he loots around the empty guest room. Digging through empty chest drawers before tearing open the built in closet where he finds it.
His suit.
Cleaned, dried, and ironed.
Shiro tears off his pajamas and tosses on the suit.
‘I can’t stay here.’ He thinks.
He’s a disgrace, a nightmare, something threatening.
He can’t stay with Mariko talking into the long hours of the night.
If he does something bad will surely befall her.
Shiro takes one last glance at the room before opening the window.
He glances at the city skyline as he opens his mask and tosses it on.
This world may have no place for Shiro Yoshida.
But it will for Sunfire.
Rogue does not remember this.
It’s been missing from her memory so long that to restore it would completely change her perception of who she is.
That doesn’t mean she’s not entirely unaware of it.
The kind smiles Jean throws at her. The way her heartbeat increased when Ororo offered to hold her hand for the first time. The way she’d stare at gorgeous actresses on the screen a little too intensely.
She remembers watching Mystique and Destiny dance around the kitchen. Smiling at each other, wrapping their arms around each other’s bodies, plastering kisses on each other’s cheeks, foreheads, and lips.
For all her tweenaged theatrics about how “gross” her moms were being, Rogue’s heart longed for a love like that.
She just thought it would be with one of the boy’s she saw in the park, or one of the nicer ones that waved her from behind the school fence.
Or as she got older she began to long for her and Remy having a love like that.
She couldn’t recall ever longing for it with a woman.
Except there was a time…
Mystique, donning the appearance of a tall man in a bright blue suit, leads Rogue through the airport.
“Hurry up!” She calls as Rogue tries desperately to squeeze through other passengers without touching one of them.
As she makes it through the crowd a man’s baggage hits her in the leg and she falls over.
Rogue lets out a squeak as she braces for the impact of the bright blue carpet.
“Hold on!”
“Don’t!”
Someone grabs Rogue’s shoulders as she calls out. a Woman with dark hair wearing a grey jacket with a camera slung over her neck.
Rogue stares at the woman’s eyes waiting for them to fall back into her head, but they don’t.
“You alright?” The woman asks.
Instead of answering Rogue stares at her quizzically.
“There you are!”
Rogue and the woman detach at the sight of Mystique, the woman flashes her a smile.
“Mystique!” She exclaims. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show up.”
“I never bail on a mission.” Mystique points her finger at Rogue. “This one was busy fussing over her hair and nearly made us late.”
Rogue subconsciously runs her hand through her hair, fingers brushing against the second white streak she added this morning. She stupidly thought she’d have more time.
“Well, I say it was worth it.” The woman flashes a smile at Rogue.
A burst of heat flies up Rogues stomach and into her cheeks. “Thanks.” She mutters.
“Rogue this is Blindspot.” Mystique explains. “She has the power to remove and alter people’s memories.”
“Sounds like that’ll come in handy for our mission.” Rogue says.
“Alright ladies, let’s get this show on the road.” Mystique grumbles as she makes her way to the gate.
Rogue goes to follow her but is stopped by a—
FLASH! CLICK!
“Hey!” Rogue calls.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
She spins around to see Blindspot holding her camera.
“What’s with the camera?” Rogue asks.
“We’re supposed to be a family on vacation.” Blindspot explains. “Besides you look so nice, I couldn’t resist.”
Rogue blushes again.
“Ladies!” Mystique calls.
“Coming!” The cry and race after her.
They get onto the plane with no issues.
As they board Rogue glances at her ticket and sees that she’s seated in 2B.
Blindspot is sitting in 1B.
Mystique has the seat across the isle from them and is leaning against her chair bordly as the flight attendants give their safety speech.
Rogue glances out the window and her stomach lurches.
They’re about to be in the air.
She’s never flown before, let alone this high.
“You okay?” Blindspot takes Rogue’s hand and gives it a squeeze.
Rogue’s lips part in horror, once again waiting for her powers to zap the woman next to her and knock her unconscious.
To her surprise nothing happens.
Blindspot’s right as rain.
“Yeah.” Rogue mutters. “Just a bit nervous.”
“It’ll be fine.” Blindspot reassures her. “The hard part is after we land.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.” Rogue says.
It doesn’t make her feel any easier.
The sides of the plane tremble, a loud noise sparks from the jet engine, as they roll forward.
Rogue grips Blindspot’s hand and has never been more grateful that she’s there otherwise she would have surly torn off the seats with how tight she’s gripping the arms.
“It’s alright.” Blindspot says, not complaining about how tightly Rogue is gripping her hand as they zoom into the sky.
Soon the plane is in the air flying smoothly, Rogue’s stomach unclenches as she breathes a sigh of relief.
“Feeling better?” Blindspot asks.
Rogue nods and does not let go of her hand.
Rogue spends the rest of the plane ride staring out the window, trying to avoid Blindspot’s gaze, because every time she does her skin feels like it’s going to vibrate off her body.
Mystique lets out a chuckle and Rogue turns to her.
The typically blue woman points at her mouth and rolls out her tongue to mimic a gag.
Rogue’s cheeks heat up as Blindspot turns her head to see what the commotion is about, but Mystique—thankfully—has gone back to staring at the isle.
As their plane glides over the Pacific Ocean. Rogue keeps her hand held tightly on Blindspot’s. Memorizing each callous and gent of the woman’s skin.
She hasn’t done something as simple as this in a long time.
She’s missed it so much.
Rogue keeps her grip on Blindspot the entire time, not removing it for a single second for fear it would disappear.
“Don't worry, Rogue.” Blindspot flexes her fingers forcing Rogue to relax her mussels. “I get how scary this, I’m not going to let go.”
Rogue hopes she never does.
Shiro’s memory of the day before the mission is hazy and blurred.
Details of the shop zoom in and out of focus.
The writing on the sign is all jumbled into nonsense scribbles. The face of the baker keeps changing as he argues with Uncle Tomo over the price. Both men’s words are as low and still as a breeze during a heatwave.
It’s clear to Rogue that Shiro’s tried to block out this memory, but considering she can still accesses it, he hasn’t tried hard enough.
Which is odd to Rogue.
Sure, standing around the crowded plaza is boring. Listening to his uncle try and pick up bread for their American visitors that Shiro still can’t understand why he’s invited. The heat is intense, but that’s not like it’s bothering him.
Compared to all his other memories, this isn’t so bad.
So what horrible thing is waiting around the corner that he’s tried this hard to block it out.
Rogue braces herself, glancing back at Tomo who isn’t paying a lick of attention to Shiro, too involved in his argument.
She’s waiting to make a mistake, do something to incur the old man’s wrath, or for him to grab her and drag her down the street, when—
“Argh!”
Rogue falls down to the ground, hitting the cobblestones with a thud.
The rest of the shoppers don’t stop to help her, too busy rushing towards the indoor shopping centers to escape the heat.
“Shit!” Someone next to her groans as Rogue peels herself off the ground. “Sorry about that!”
She twitches as someone grabs her by the elbow, lifting her up, as she steadies to her feet she yanks out of the stranger’s reach.
“Watch where you’re go…ing…” She snaps but her words quickly falter at the sight of the person in front of her.
A teenage boy, about Shiro’s age, with long dark hair leans over to pick up his skateboard. “I am so sorry,” He says turning back to Rogue. “Are you hurt?”
This boy is the clearest image in the entire plaza, Rogue notes. The sun beams down onto his hair giving it an ethereal shine. She can note every detail of his face from his deep brown eyes to the small bandages on his face where whisps of hair are growing. The writing on his chest is clear, which has the logo of an American brand printed on it.
“You’re bleeding…fuck…” He reaches forward, his thumb pressing on Shiro’s cheek.
Rogue hisses but doesn’t move to push the boy off her.
His hand is warm, a warm feeling flushes through her chest up to her cheeks, painting them bright red. It’s a softer warm, unlike the kind Shiro challenges to use his powers.
“Again, I am so sorry.” The boy continues to ramble. “Here I think I have a bandage in my pocket.”
The boy reaches down to his pants and starts flipping through his myriad of pockets before pulling out a square bandage.
“It’s fine…” Rogue mutters, despite the tumble her face doesn’t hurt at all. She can still feel the ghost of the boy’s fingerprints and kind of wishes that he would place them there again.
“I am typically much more careful than this, I can assure you.” The boy rips the sticker off the side of the bandage and carefully places it on Rogue’s cheek.
The warmth in her chest returns with the boy’s fingers.
“I know I keep saying this but, I’m really sorry.” He says, as he removes his hand, robbing Rogue of its warmth. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Rogue mumbles, in the softest tone she thinks she’s ever heard Shiro use.
“Great!” The boy jumps on his skateboard and jets off.
She watches as he darts around strangers, taking more care in his skill, to avoid a repeat incident.
Rogue’s mind replays the scene trying to figure out exactly what was so bad about that encounter that would make Shiro try to repress it.
Sure, it was a little awkward, for the first time in his life Shiro was stunned into silence but that’s how must teenagers act when they stumble into a cute boy...ohhh!
“Shiro,” Rogue’s right arm still hurting from the fall aches when Tomo grips onto it. “What are you doing?” He asks as he pulls her towards the exit. “Let’s go!”
Rogue can feel her emotions mingle with Shiro’s as she stumbles into the next memory.
Rogue glances at a bartender in a low-cut shirt longingly from across the room. As the rest of the X-Men party she stays seated in her lonely corner nursing a beer.
She can’t join them less she run the risk of hurting someone.
The bartender notices her staring, but instead of being offended, she gives Rogue an inviting smile and waves for her to come over.
Something similar to her unrequited crush on Blindspot surfaces in Rogue’s chest, but she quickly turns away.
No, it can’t happen.
It won’t happen.
No matter how bad she wants it to.
A similar scene plays out with Shiro, older than he was in the previous flashback, he takes slow sips out of a whiskey glance.
A man walks over and begins talking to him. Shiro gestures to the bartender asking for another drink, trying to ignore the man.
The man doesn’t notice this and instead continues talking. Making comments about Shiro’s appearance, a bit blunt but not unkind.
Shiro turns to him ready to tell him to buzz off, but the other patron gently places a hand on his arm.
Shiro lets it sit there, enjoying the warmth that flows through him at the feeling.
However those feelings are immediately replaced with guilt and shame as he gazes around the room.
“Don’t touch me!” He snaps as he pulls away.
The man throws his arms up defensively, apologizing, as he walks away.
Shiro takes his new drink from the bartender and downs it in a gulp.
The next memory is blurry, but it blends together seamlessly with the previous one.
It’s hazier than the memory Shiro tried to block out, but Rogue gets the just of it.
She, Mystique, Blindspot, and Shiro they’re…on a mission…to get something for Shiro’s uncle.
For some reason there are ninjas.
Ninjas that are attacking them and Rogue is calling upon the years of Mystique’s training to try and fight her way out of this.
Shiro who’s powers are brand new to him, is casting fireballs and soaring through the air without a care.
Rogue watches him in envy, at how easier this is for him than it is her.
Knocking aside a ninja, who falls to the ground at her touch, Rogue calls upon her own powers to give them a taste of their own medicine. Taking them down with the ease of a skilled warrior.
Shiro floats to the ground to join her, but he doesn’t have the skill Rogue amassed in those short seconds.
One of their assailants knocks Shiro out cold with his blade, he moves into strike.
Rogue notices this and dives toward the ninja, but she slips and her hand ends up brushing against Shiro’s back.
The few seconds of touch is enough to send her soaring into the air, flames brushing out her fists.
She loves it.
The way her former attackers stare up at her in terror and scream as the center burns down around them.
She lets out a laugh; she could keep these powers forever.
From his spot on the ground Shiro looks up.
His stomach lurches and his face burns as he watches Rogue master the powers he got a few weeks ago in just a few seconds.
He’s grateful his uncle isn’t there.
If he saw Rogue, he’d replace Shiro with her in a heartbeat.
A heartbeat that would be Shiro’s last.
Rogue is careful as she helps Remy down the steps, she’s wearing gloves so their shouldn’t be an issues.
“You don’t have to be so careful, cher.” He says. “I’m not made of glass.”
“You’re blind Remy.” She says. “Do you have any idea how many steps there are?”
“Three.” Remy answers confidently as he stumbles over the final step. “Oof.”
“Four.” Rogue corrects him.
She sighs, as she goes to lift Remy up from the ground.
“Cher, it’s okay I got it.” He moves his hand up and it instantly collides with Rogue’s face.
And she’s pulled into the darkest corners of Remy’s mind.
She can feel it all his panic, his worry, his longing.
His fear that this will be forever.
His worries about going back into battle.
How much he wishes to see Rogue’s face again.
Tears fall down her eyes and Rogue tries not to scream.
‘Oh god...’ She thinks as she listens to Remy’s thoughts.
He hates having to depend on her.
He hates her.
He doesn’t have to say it because she knows it.
‘Because I hate me too.’ She thinks.
Her hands shake as she comes too and Rogue wants to sigh as she see’s Remy’s body cold and curled up on the pavement. His chest is rising, so she knows he’s not dead.
One wrong touch, however, and he could be.
In her hands she holds a knife.
Shiro holds a knife.
It’s pressed against his torso, a small piece of paper, that’s supposed to have a haiku written on it, but he couldn’t think of one.
He just wants this to be over.
Everyone is gone.
His parents.
His uncle.
Mariko.
Leyu.
They’re all dead.
With the surfacing of some rather damning photos of him as a teenager posing alongside Rogue and Mystique. A destroyed commerce center burning behind them, as they sale away on a boat.
It doesn’t matter if he can’t remember the incident for the life of him.
His career is over.
There’s no one left in his life who cares.
So why not end it all?
He can hear the tinkering of the blade as his cousin removes it from his scabbard.
Shiro let’s out a shaky sigh.
That’s going to make things so much easier.
RING!
RING!
RING!
“Cursed things been ringing off the hook.” He mutters.
He can’t believe those are going to be his last words.
He tightens his grip on the knife, as the phone goes to his answering machine. Getting ready to move the blade forward.
“You have reached the private line of Shiro Yoshida.” His voice beeps. “This had better be important!”
“Sunfire?” A thick Southern American accent rings out. “It’s Rogue! You mind telling me where that snapshot on the news came from!”
And Shiro drops the knife and runs over to the phone.
Because the only thing more powerful than despair is anger.
And Shiro has that last trait in spades.
The next thing he knows he’s screaming at Rogue on the top of his lungs. Cursing, spitting, and screaming some more.
Rogue shuts him down quickly, cutting to the heart to the matter.
“Now you wanna drop the attitude or should I call back once you’re in jail?” She asks.
“You and the police can spare yourselves the effort!” Shiro screams. “I will carry out my own sentence.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rogue’s voice drops from snarky to serious.
“What do you think?” He snaps.
Out of the corner of his eye he watches Kenuichio slide his katana back into its saya.
“Um…look, Shiro, I know you’ve had a rough few days and maybe this all hit a raw nerve with you but, that’s what Remy calls a “permeant solution for a temporary problem!”
“What do you know about my problems!” Shiro snaps.
He’s ready to hang up on Rogue and go back to finishing the ritual. However as his thumb hovers above the end call button Shiro can’t bring himself to do it.
“I don’t remember that photograph ever being taken…” Rogue tells him.
“Neither do I.” Says Shiro.
Rogue offers to come and help him out. She just needed to find a way to get from New York to Tokyo without any interference.
“Let me see what I can do.” Shiro looks over at his cousin.
Kenuichio offers to arrange transportation for Rogue and Shiro sighs with relief.
At least he has one family member left.
That counts for something, right?
Little did he know what Kenuichio had in store for them.
“Is there something wrong?” Shiro asks.
The memories filter out of Rogue’s head, giving her own brain back as she and Shiro near their destination.
“Huh?” Rogue asks.
“I said are you sick or something?” Shiro asks. “You’re less chatty, than usual, not that I’m complaining.”
Rogue rolls her eyes. “Nothing just residual memory stuff from taking your powers.”
“I should drop you for that!” Shiro shouts.
“Yeah, but you won’t.” Rogue remarks. “You need me.”
Shiro doesn’t retort to that, which proves her point.
They near a set of gorgeous skyscrapers, as the sun sets over the city sky.
“You sure I’m not underdressed?” Rogue asks as she notices a group of men in expensive looking suits head into the building.
“The men we seek will be too busy trying to kill you not to notice your hideous costume.” Shiro tells her as they make their landing.
Rogue smirks. “The world is uniform, Sunfire. A costume is something you wear for Halloween, usually with a mask.”
“Be sure to say trick or treat once we get there.”
“My cousin may be in mortal danger and you’re making jokes.”
‘Your cousin is the moral danger.’ Rogue thinks but decides not to voice.
She wants to pick her battles wisely tonight.
“You ready for this?” She asks as they make their way to the back gate.
It’s a useless question, but she knows the answer.
She’s seen first hand what Shiro’s been through and what he’s capable of.
The question is was she ready for this?
“Stop worrying.” Shiro remarks.
“I’m not worrying.”
“You’re biting your cheek and making annoying popping sounds.” He tells her. “You’re worrying.”
Rogue sighs. “Sorry, it’s been one hell of a day.”
“Look at this way,” Shiro says. “Just this morning you took down Japan’s greatest warrior…”
“You’re right I did give Lady Deathstrike a run for her money.” Rogue muses.
Shiro scoffs. “I was talking about me.”
Rogue rolls her eyes. “I’m glad you think you’re a challenge, sugar.”
Shiro grunts. “Last time I try to be nice to you "
Rogue snickers as Shiro walks in front of her.
She’s stared down tougher foes than these guys.
From her own family members to world ending Gods.
She just needs to get out her own head.
Don't Give Us None Of Your Aggravation
TW: Cannon typical violence
Based on this post for an ask by @rcwaffles
“This is stupid!” Jean-Paul grumbles as he yanks a comb out of Shiro’s hand.
“This again?” Shiro snatches it back.
Both men were standing in various shades of undress as they wander around Shiro’s room, trying to get ready. Jean-Paul’s hair was slicked back with cool wet water, with a pair of pants unzipped around his waist. Shiro’s red shirt was unbuttoned, he tried to wrap the brass buttons through the holes with his free hand.
Shiro went back to running the smooth dark comb through his hair. “I don’t see why you feel the need to steal my comb, I got you your own set.”
“Yes, but now I can’t find them.” Jean-Paul snatches it back from him.
“I don’t know what’s with you, but you need to knock it off.” Shiro finishes buttoning his shirt. “We have to be out of here in less than an hour.”
Jean-Paul sighs. “Can't you just go by yourself?”
“Considering that this is a double-date, no Northstar, I can't just go by myself.” Shiro wraps his arms around his chest.
CLICK!
The wooden comb rolls against Shiro’s dresser, knocking into the mirror.
“Don’t call me that!” Jean-Paul snaps as he walks over to the bed where he laid his shirt.
“Don't make me angry and I won't call you that.” Shiro reaches over Jean-Paul’s outstretched arm and grabs a pair of white pants.
Jean-Paul tosses his arms through his shirt. “Please if anyone's making anyone angry, it's you to me. I can't believe you agreed to this without asking me first.”
“I did ask you.”
“When?”
“Last night.” Shiro says. “I said Sean asked if we could go on a double date with him and John tomorrow and you said “Sounds fine.”
“I did not say that.” Jean-Paul tells him. “Regardless, you didn’t remind me to get ready until an hour before hand.”
“We’re going.” Shiro zips up his pants. “End of discussion.”
“This sucks.” Jean-Paul walks over to Shiro’s mirror and studies himself in it. His tongue licks against his teeth at the sight of something green sticking in-between them.
“Do I really have to do this?” He asks.
I hang out with your friends all the time, I don't see why you can't hang around mine.” Shiro asks him.
Sunfire and Banshee were the unlikeliest of friends. However after running into the screaming mutant in the middle of Memphis and later visiting Graceland with him. Shiro found Sean the more tolerable of his teammates. They regularly exchanged music. Shiro passing Sean records be bought during his visits to Japan and some of Sean’s records stood on Shiro’s nightstand. A broken Muddy Waters’ record was stuck inside his damaged turn table.
“Alpha Flight aren't my friends.” Jean-Paul mutters.
Mac and the rest of his merry band of Canadian superheroes, might have believed that Jean-Paul and his sister had some sense of loyalty to them after the year they spent on Alpha Flight, but the speedster felt otherwise. He made a point to show it every time Logan or Mac showed up to conscript the twins into missions.
“Then why are they always here?” Shiro yanks a comb through his hair. “I need to cut this.”
“Why would you want to do that.” Jean-Paul reaches over to run a hand through Shiro’s long dark locks, but Shiro moves out of the way. “It looks so nice.”
“Because it’s a nightmare to brush and it gets everywhere.” Shiro gestures to his shoulders where the mane ends. “It’s going to be a liability when fighting.”
“I can ask Jeanne-Marie if she has any ponytail holders.” Jean-Paul tugs down his shirt. “How do I look?”
Shiro glances at Jean-Paul’s outfit from the corner of his eye. “Please tell me that’s not the shirt you’re wearing.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Jean-Paul glances to Shiro and then back at the mirror.
“It’s hideous.” Shiro lifts up the comb only for it to vanish from his hands.
CLACK!
It bounces off the wall, onto the floor, one of the teeth becoming loose.
“Hey!” Shiro shouts as Jean-Paul marches out the bedroom door.
John gives a low groan as he runs his hands down his shirt. The walls of his bedroom rattle, as he listens to the telltale sign of Shiro’s door slamming shut. This is quickly followed by Jean-Paul’s thick Québécoise accent screaming at him as Shiro lets out a series of swears, before Jean-Paul’s bedroom door slams shut. Even then through the walls he can hear them continue their argument.
They hadn’t even made it out the door and they already started.
John stares at himself in the mirror.
The fanciest dinner he had ever been at was Olive Garden for his great-grandfather’s eighty sixth birthday. Even then John was nine years old and wasn’t expected to dress fancy.
The fabric of dress shirt’s never agreed with his skin. The sandy fabric rubbing against his skin. John glances down at the plain white cotton shirt he was wearing, along with a pair of soft brown pants, with a dark belt.
Maybe he should pair it with a sweater?
“Well don’t you look nice!”
John jumps at the sound of his door clicking open, in the corner of his eye he could see Sean walk up to him.
“This isn’t that different from what I usually wear.” John tells him as Sean wraps his arms around him.
“Well that’s because you always look nice.” Sean’s head nuzzles in the side of John’s neck. Cold nose brushing against warm skin.
“I’m already your boyfriend, you don’t need to charm me.” John shrugs as Sean’s lips dig into the skin of his neck. John flinches slightly. Sean takes the hint and move his lips to John’s cheek.
“You deserve to be charmed.” Sean continues his barrage of kisses as he messes with John’s belt.
“We’re leaving in five minutes.” John takes Sean’s hands off his belt. “Maybe later.”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.” Sean leans against him, blond locks rolling against John’s big shoulders.
“Listen if you want to call this whole thing off to stay in, I’m more than happy to do that.” John adds a laugh to the end of the sentence, but he’s not joking.
Sean sighs. “I know you were hesitant about this at first—”
“I don't think hesitant is a strong enough word.”
The words that exited John’s mouth when Sean came into their room a few night’s prior and announced that he had talked Jean-Paul and Shiro into going on a double date with them were:
“Why do you hate me?”
John didn’t mind going out. Granted he’d prefer a bookstore or a boxing gym to a restaurant, but if their date had been with Storm and Stevie or Jimmy and Terry he would actually be looking forward to it.
But sitting next to Shiro and Jean-Paul for two whole hours, as the screamed, bickered, and cursed at each other? John was pretty sure most people would consider that torture.
“But I appreciate you coming.” Sean finishes.
“Remind me again why you’re friends with Shiro?” John mutters.
Listen, he liked that Sean had friends. Sean having friends was great. It gave Sean someone to hang out with while John’s attention was fully attuned to his book and Sean wouldn’t be lonely whenever John made the trek down to Arizona.
But Shiro Yoshida, really?
Sean shrugs. “He has good taste in music.”
John detaches himself, from his boyfriend and makes his way over to his closet. “I suppose I do owe you one after dragging you on that date with Aurora and her ex-boyfriend.”
“Exactly, so no matter how bad this date is, it can never be worse than that.” Sean assures him.
“It’s Jean-Paul and Shiro.” John slips the sweater over his shoulders. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
He turns to Sean and gives him a soft smile. “How do I look?”
Sean pulls John forward by the red sleeve of his sweater. “Fantastic.”
He pulls John in for a kiss, which is happily accepted.
CRASH!
They break apart at the sound of something slamming in the room next door.
“I cannot believe you!”
“Give me that back!”
“No!”
Sean wraps his fingers through John’s. “Let’s get out of here.”
It’s seven fifteen, Sean’s stomach is growling, and he and John have been waiting for Jean-Paul and Shiro at the bottom of the stairs for almost a half hour.
Sean whistles and glances at his watch. They were supposed to leave at seven and it was almost eight.
“What is taking them so long?” He grumbles.
John shrugs. “If they're not down in the next five minutes, I say we go and enjoy this date by ourselves.”
Sean nods, that honestly wasn’t a bad idea.
However, how does that saying go? Speak of the devil and he shall appear. At those words, there was the sound of a door rocking on it’s hinges, followed by a string of loud Japanese, as Jean-Paul and Shiro made their way down the staircase.
“Bâtard!”
“You could’ve a lest changed your shirt…”
“I don’t take fashion advice from someone who wears a sack on his head!”
As the two men near the bottom of the staircase, Sean sighs. “What are you two fighting about this time?”
Shiro points at Jean-Paul. “He broke one of my new combs!”
Jean-Paul glares at him. “You tore apart my closet!”
“You ungrateful, lying, little—”
“You act like I broke it on purpose—”
“You tore it out of my hand and throw it at the wall!”
“Well if you weren’t such a—”
“If you call me that one more time, I promise—”
John throws his hands up. “You know what never mind!”
He walks towards the door. “Let’s just go.”
The rest of the group follow him onto the front lawn. Jean-Paul and Shiro take to the skies as Sean hoists John by his waist, John covers his ears as Sean let’s out a shriek blasting them upwards.
He’s not nearly as fast as Jean-Paul nor Shiro, who move through the air trying to outpace each other.
Sean calls out towards them. “So where are we going?”
He and John didn’t go out to eat much, often just enjoying each other’s company at the kitchen counter. As a result, he wasn’t sure what restaurants were near the school.
“And can it be somewhere quiet!” John adds.
“I know a place that serves great shrimp scampi.” Jean-Paul says. “It’s near Stevie’s dance stud—watch where you’re going!” He cries as Shiro nearly knocks into him.
“Me? You’re the one treating the sky as if you own it.”
“At least I can fly forward without knocking myself into a tree.”
“That was one time!”
Sean sighs and looks down at his boyfriend who is wearing an equally pained expression.
At least he wouldn’t be alone in this.
Shiro glances at the menu for less than a second before declaring. “All of this looks terrible.”
Jean-Paul gives a sharp sigh. “Do you have to start up now?”
“You're the one that recommended this place.”
“You’re being picky and suddenly it's my fault?”
Shiro crosses his arms. “Why couldn't we go to the place I actually like?”
Jean-Paul knew what restaurant Shiro was referring to. The White Horse, which resided a few streets down. As much as he preferred The White Horse, it also regularly employed live bands over the weekends, and the crowds were known for getting rowdy.
Which was a shame because Jean-Paul always felt that their Shrimp Scampi was superior to the one he was planning on ordering.
“Because John said we needed to go someplace quiet and this is quiet.” Jean-Paul tells him.
He glances at Shiro’s menu and points to a salad covered with cucumbers, sharp peppers, orange sauce, and spices, mixed with cool chicken. “Just get that.”
Shiro huffs. “And if I don't like it?”
Jean-Paul groans and goes back to his menu. “Then I'll eat it.”
Shiro snatches the menu out of Jean-Paul’s hand. “Well what am I going to eat?”
Jean-Paul grabs it back. “If you don't like it order something else.”
“I don't want to pay for two meals." Shiro snaps.
Jean-Paul tosses on the table, it clacks against his water glass. “I'll pay for it then!”
John suppresses a sigh as his dark eyes dart up to the celling.
Five minutes.
They lasted five minutes in a restaurant before those two were at each other’s throats.
He tries to drown out Jean-Paul and Shiro’s bickering playing connect the dots with the celling tiles. Trying to make a cow out of the splattered dots.
Sean rests a comforting hand on John’s back and gives him a smile. He then gestures to the waitress whose watching Jean-Paul and Shiro’s fight, unsure if she should say anything.
“Shiro, did you get a chance to listen to those records I leant you?” He gives a smile, as if nothing is happening.
“I got a chance to listen to half of one,” Shiro’s voice is calm, but his eyes shoot a glare at Jean-Paul. “But someone ran into the record player and broke it!”
“You act like I did it on purpose.” Jean-Paul huffs.
“You did do it on purpose.”
Shiro was well aware about Jean-Paul’s feelings towards his friendship with Sean. If it were up to his boyfriend, Shiro wouldn’t speak to anyone but him. To which Jean-Paul would respond: “As if you wouldn’t have it that same way.” And bring up the time he almost melted Bobby after the ice powered mutant eyed Jean-Paul when he rejoined the team.
Which was Shiro’s point exactly, it was different. Sean was in a committed relationship with John and had been for almost a year. Jean-Paul and Shiro although having dated for almost three years, were constantly splitting up. Shiro didn’t think they had made it a solid six months before Jean-Paul declared he wanted nothing to do with Shiro. Only to start again a few weeks later.
At the time they were teetering on that six month mark and Shiro didn’t want Bobby to ruin it.
Not that it mattered.
A week after the fact he and Jean-Paul broke up again.
Sean stares as the two men continue their argument, he glances back at the waitress. “Can you start me off with a glass of whiskey?” He asks.
“Make that two.” John adds.
By the time their meals get there, Jean-Paul and Shiro mellow out. They don’t talk just glare over each other’s plates as they aggressively chew their food.
Sean brazenly tries to bring up another topic of conversation as he cuts through his steak.
“So, Shiro how was your visit back home?” He asks.
“It was nice,” Shiro swallows. “I got to see my cousin.”
Sean smiles. “How's Mariko doing?”
He remembers Shiro’s cousin from the time, the X-Men ended up in Japan assisting victims of a vicious earthquake. She was rather nice, which was odd considering she was related to Shiro.
Maybe she was adopted.
Jean-Paul’s head spins around towards Shiro. “So Sean's got to meet your family and I haven't?”
Shiro lets out a frustrated groan and tugs at his hair. “Can you not?"
Realizing he’s made an error, Sean swallows, but tries so sooth it over by reaching over to the wine bottle to refill Jean-Paul’s drink. “It was when we ended up in Japan during Christmas-
“You don't have to make excuses for him Sean,” Jean-Paul leans back in his chair, blue eyes icily pointed at his boyfriend. “I know what Shiro thinks of me.”
“We have had this conversation twenty times.” Shiro’s voice digs. “I'm not doing it again, let alone here.”
“You're embarrassed of me,” Jean-Paul’s tongue whips out. “Just admit it.”
“I'm embarrassed of you,” Shiro huffs and rolls his eyes. “There I admit it!
“Go to hell!” Jean-Paul screams.
This causes head to turn towards their table, John swoops his hair over his head to hide his face.
“Will it get me away from you?” Shiro sasses back.
Jean-Paul leans back, breath hitching, as he prepares what John can only expect to be a very vicious insult.
John jumps up from his seat, nearly knocking his chair over. His glasses rattle together. “I have to use the bathroom.” He announces and darts away before anyone can say anything.
Sean slowly gets up out of his chair. “I also have to use the bathroom.” He declares.
Without another word he sprints after John.
John shuts off the water faucet as he wriggles his hands over the sink. “Is it wrong if we climb out the window and leave them with the cheque?” He stares at the series of small windows which sit on top of the bathroom wall.
“It's not a bad idea.” Sean thinks wondering if they can manage to squeeze through them. “I'm sorry for dragging you into this.”
“It's not your fault.” John grabs a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser. “Besides as bad as this has been the double date with Aurora was way worse.”
Sean shudders as a series of revolting memories run through his mind. “Don't remind me.”
As bad as that date was, he and John can still look back at it and laugh. However Sean doesn’t think there’s anything he can say that was remarkably funny about this dinner.
He stares at John, trying to hide his disappointment.
If there’s something Sean can say about his love life. It was always a whirlwind. He had fallen in love with so many people. Fooled around, found out. Broke a few hearts, gotten his own broken in turn. Loved and lost.
Everyone of Sean’s affairs had been flashy and dramatic. Heightened tensions, brought down by cooling passion. Those loves ran ragged until they couldn’t stand.
However the thing about those big sweeping stories was that at the end of the day, the burned too bright to last for long.
He doesn’t want his relationship with John to be like those.
He wants this to be gentle. For them to never face each other and feel as if their relationship was seconds from blowing over. He wants this relationship to be a place of refuge for the both of them. A place where they can hang up their superhero suits and relax in each other’s arms after a long day.
Sean wants that and he wants that forever.
John tosses the paper towels into the trash can and walks over to Sean. HE leans over and kisses the side of his face. “Look let's just tell them I got a text from Jimmy, and he needs us to pick him and Terry up. We'll pay the cheque and get out of here as quickly as possible.”
Sean smiles and moves a strand of hair out of John’s face. “One condition...” He murmurs.
John’s big dark eyes stare back at him. “Yes?”
“You'll let me pay for your food.”
John smiles. “Ok.”
Sean kisses him, their lips brushing together softly and they pull apart.
“Let's get out of here—”
There was a loud crash from the next room, causing the floor to shake. A series of screams followed, and the sounds of destruction continues to play out.
Sean pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Oh my god!”
John let out a similar groan. “What are they doing now?”
And they raced into the dining room.
To their surprise and ultimate relief it wasn’t Jean-Paul and Shiro who were making a mess of the dining room. Rather the two of them were rushing people towards the doors, lifting fallen tables, and shielding the patrons and staff from the onslaught.
However, Sean’s heart soon sank when he realized who was causing it.
Standing behind the table was a large man, with huge mussels, encased in red. He wore a large domed helmet and was smashing his fists into the wall.
Laughing manically next to him was man with dark swooping hair, a large bushy beard, wearing a dark purple and red suit with a pointed collar. His blue eyes staring directly at Sean.
“Glad you could join us, Sean.” He smirks sinisterly. “I was beginning to threat you left us.”
“Hello Tom.” Sean greets his cousin coldly. “I see you brought Cain with you.”
He glances at as the Juggernaut tosses a table around the floor, nailing it into the wall.
“Well it is date night.” Tom says. “It'd be wrong if I didn’t bring him.”
“You’re idea of a date night is crashing mine?” Sean asks.
“Yes.” Tom gives a wave to John. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Thunderbird.”
“The name's Proudstar,” John says. “And I can’t say the same for you.”
“Who are these people?” Jean-Paul and Shiro land next to them.
“My evil cousin.” Sean gestures to Tom. “And his just as evil boyfriend.”
Shiro nods. “He doesn’t seem like much.”
“Unfortunately, Sunfire, Tom’s mighty powerful.” Sean glares at his cousin. “With his stick he can generate blasts powerful enough to concuss a man.” His eyes glance around the room. “Speaking of which where is it?”
Tom laughs as he glances at his empty hands. “What do you know I seem to have left it at home.” He gives an exaggerated shrug. “Seems you’ve bested me, Sean. Except…Cain!”
Marko also lets out a laugh as he reaches over to the table he had just been throwing around and rips off one of its legs. He tosses it to his partner who catches it with ease.
“You have good taste Sean, what’s this real mahogany?”
With a flick of his wrist, a beam shoots out of the table leg and knocks into Sean’s chest. He flies backwards knocking into the wall.
“Sean!” John rushes over to him.
Sean lets out a low groan as John helps him up. “Are you alright?”
Tom laughs as Cain stomps over to him, the room shaking.
“Alright darling, I’ll give you first pick.” He says.
“Gladly.” Cain’s dark eyes roam through the four men in front of him. “Eenie miney, miney, you!”
Cain grabs Shiro by the front of his shirt with a laugh.
“What do you say, hotshot?” He tosses Shiro backwards. “Want to go?”
Shiro nearly falls into the restaurant’s patio screen but manages to stop himself.
Flames burst through his arms, burning freshly though his shirt and he rushes towards the Juggernaut with a scream.
“You think you can take me!” Shiro punches Cain squarely in the nose, causing the giant to fall back. “I am Sunfire! Japan’s Number One Superhero!”
“That title would mean something if you weren’t Japan’s only superhero!” Jean-Paul calls as he races around Cain.
He’s not going as fast as he would like, the restaurant is small and boxy, which means Jean-Paul has to be careful not to knock into any walls.
Even at this slower speed, Cain struggles to keep up with him, knocking over chairs and decorations as his large hands grab for Jean-Paul. Missing the blur as he darts around.
Cain lets out a frustrated groan, as Shiro sends a flame towards him. He manages to dodge it by inches.
“Urgh!”
Cain grabs Shiro by the hair. Yanking the strands hard as Shiro struggles to fly out of his grasp.
“So this is Japan’s best and brightest.” Cain chuckles. “I might have to visit someday, if I only have to face down a matchstick like you.”
“Get your hands off my man!”
Jean-Paul flies forward, knocking into Cain. He groans as he releases Shiro. Not before using his other fist and smashing it against Jean-Paul’s head.
The speedster’s head bangs against the exposed brick wall. He moans as the room spins around him knocking him off his feet.
Before he can hit the sharp wooden floors, Shiro rushes forward and grabs onto him.
“Steady.” Shiro grabs Jean-Paul’s arm and wraps it around his neck. “Careful, you’re going to fall over.”
“I can stand.” Jean-Paul grunts, knowing full well that’s a lie. The restaurant lights blind his vision, his head feels like it’s been pressed miles underwater, his face aches.
Cain lunges towards them and Shiro sends a blast of heat towards him. It knocks the Juggernaut backward and into the wall.
The table Cain smashed, pins him to the dry plaster as he struggles to get out.
Shiro gives him a sharp smile, and his dizzy state Jean-Paul does his best to imitate it.
“You okay?” Shiro asks him.
“I’m fine.” Jean-Paul unwraps his arm from Shiro. “Just a little dizzy…”
He slides downwards and Shiro catches him again and pins him to his warm chest.
“I think I should stay here for a moment.” Jean-Paul says.
“Yeah.” Shiro adds.
Jean-Paul’s eyes dart every which way as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. His skin is flushed a deep red and sweat runs down his messy head onto his face.
Shiro smiles and without thinking presses a kiss to his forehead.
Jean-Paul smiles and Shiro pulls him closer.
John tries his best to dodge the blasts coming out of Tom’s table leg. As Sean’s soars above him.
“I must say Sean you have good taste.” Tom says. “Your boyfriends one hell of a fighter.”
John dodges another blast rolling underneath it and taking shelter behind the bar which is thankfully made of marble.
Sean let’s out another sonic scream, which has zero affect on his cousin before darting behind there with him.
“Why aren’t your screams working?” John asks.
“He has immunity.” Sean says. “Due to our relation neither Terry or I can take him down.”
John thinks for a moment. “Does that mean your immune to his concussive blasts?”
Sean shakes his head. “Yes.”
“Great, let’s get him and go home.” John jumps up and gets ready to run, but Sean grabs his shoulder.
“Sorry John, but I’m not letting you put yourself in danger.”
“Sean-”
“Johnny, trust me it’s for the best.”
He lets out a scream and John covers his ears. When he looks up Banshee’s on the other side of the room darting over Tom.
“I can’t believe you barged in on my date!” Sean scrams.
Tom laughs. “Admit it Sean, this is so much more fun!”
“I don’t even get what the point is!” Sean shouts. “You can’t hurt me and I can’t hurt you.”
“You have a point Sean; I can’t hurt you with this.” Tom waves the stick. “However…”
He raises his arms, a chair standing a few feet away from Sean unravels and wraps around his legs and body and yanks him down onto the floor.
Sean’s face smears against the ground and he groans as Tom lets out a laugh.
“You aren’t immune to everything.”
Tom leans over and gives a laugh at the sight of his cousin’s misfortune.
“I was right, this is so much more fun with me.” He leans back. “Alright Cain, if you’re done, I’m ready to-oh!”
Sean watches in surprise as Tom falls forward, glass from a broken bottle running through his hair. He glances up at John, who holds the bottle’s neck in his hand.
“You alright?” He leans over and breaks the wood with the ease one tears a piece of paper.
“Right as rain.” Sean tells him.
“So, I take it you don’t need me to kiss anything better.” John tells him.
“You know what, I seem to be feeling a spot of pain right about here.” Sean points to his lips.
“How convenient.” John laughs.
Nonetheless he obliges.
“The police are on their way!”
John and Sean break apart to see Shiro walk out of the main dining area with Jean-Paul wrapped in his arms.
“I suggest we go.”
John and Sean nod and follow him outside. John wraps his arms around Sean as his boyfriend lets out a yell and runs them up into the sky.”
“I can fly by myself.” Jean-Paul grumbles.
“The last time I let you do that you ran into a lamp post.” Shiro reminds him.
“It was one time and I wasn’t concussed I was drunk.” Jean-Paul closes his eyes and leans his head into Shiro’s neck.
John places his chin against Sean’s shoulder. “Let’s agree never to do this again.” He declares.
“Agreed!” Everyone shouts.
Who Am I To Disagree?
TW: Implied/Referenced Character Death and Nightmares
“Urgh…”
The sheets on the bed twist and turn, above him, letting cold air rush to his legs, as Jean-Paul’s eyes abruptly blink open to the sound of pained groans and tight gasps for air.
“Yamero!”
Jean-Paul sighs and flips around, it’s too early for this.
Lying on the pillow next to him, Shiro is muttering under his breath.
Sleep talking was one of Shiro’s more annoying habits. Something Jean-Paul learned after they spent their first night together. He’d often be awaken in the middle of the night to Shiro talking to no one in particular.
“Shiro…” Jean-Paul groans as he reaches out toward the man next to him. “Go back to bed.”
Shiro’s arm jumps out from under the blanket and knocks Jean-Paul’s hand away as it touches his bare arm. Jean-Paul pulls back as Shiro continues to toss and turn.
“Modotte kite!” Shiro kicked against the sheets as if fighting some invisible monster.
“Shiro…” Jean-Paul whispers.
Now, that was unusual, typically Shiro slept like a log. Facing the wall and not moving a single inch. Jean-Paul was typically the one kicking around the bed trying to get comfortable.
Slowly Jean-Paul emerges from under the covers and leans over to the man kicking around beside him. He places a hand on Shiro’s shoulder which is cold and wet. He begins to shake him.
“Come on, wake up.” Jean-Paul mutters.
“Watashi no sei.”
Shiro lets out another groan and Jean-Paul rocks his body around. Slowly his eyes flicker open and he gives a glare at the man sitting above him.
When Shiro awakens, he has one foot in the cool comfort of his room and another in the darkness of his dream. He can both feel the cold air spinning from the celling fan brush against his skin and smell the heat of burning flesh that taints his nostrils. His eyes can see clearly, but he can feel the phantom stains of tear streaks. Everything is both too dark and too bright.
As Shiro’s eyes adjust, he can see someone sitting above him. Short dark hair that curls around elflike ears, smooth muscular chest, with a dark blanket wrapped around his waist.
“What do you want?” He grumbles when he realizes it’s Jean-Paul. His eyes dart to the clock sitting behind the other man. “Do you realize what time it is? It’s too early to get up.”
“Yes, I realize what time it is.” Jean-Paul snaps. “Which is why I didn’t like being aroused by your screaming.”
“I wasn’t screaming.” Shiro tells him.
Although every time he has the dream, it plays out somewhat different. Sometimes it’s raining, sometimes he’s the one pulling the trigger, sometimes when he’s looking over the body there’s blood on his hands. Despite the fact that wasn’t how it happened out in real life. However, Shiro knew the one consistency was he wasn’t speaking. He had felt like he was unable to breathe. Like someone decoupled his lungs from the rest of his body. Talking and moving had been impossible, let alone screaming.
“It sounded like it.” Jean-Paul tells him.
He doesn’t speak Japanese, but panic has a way of being expressed easily in any language. Although he couldn’t understand what Shiro was saying, the panic was traceable in his voice. Fear and anguish staining each word as it flew out of his mouth.
“Is everything alright?” He asks Shiro.
Because now he’s concerned. He’s never seen Shiro like this. Dark eyes darting around the room. Breathing slowly like his chest was a tightly wound clocked.
“Jean-Paul…” Shiro starts, his breathing uneasy and skin growing paler.
“Yes?” Jean-Paul asks, he reaches forward to grab onto Shiro’s shoulder. To pull him close and hug him to his chest.
“Good night.” With little fanfare Shiro flips over on his side, turning away from him.
“Fine.” Jean-Paul groans flipping away from him.
He doesn’t have time to coax a confession out of Shiro. He had a match the next day and he wasn’t going to waste his valuable sleeping time trying to comfort someone who didn’t want it.
Shiro spends the next thirty minutes with his eyes closed, failing to fall asleep. Every time his brain felt itself drifting off into dreamland, he was immediately pulled away by a horrifying montage, of a body falling off a balcony. Another of a man being engulfed in flames. The stillness of a chest going flat as its lungs and heart stopped beating. As well as dark still eyes staring up at him.
He was used to the sleepless nights that came after this particular dream. The burning feelings of guilt the seared his chest. The memories flashing in his mind. The tight sickness that constricted his lungs. However, he was typically able to get up and walk around until morning.
Shiro glanced at the man sleeping next to him. If he got up Jean-Paul would surely follow him downstairs and no matter where in the mansion Shiro went the speedster was sure to follow him. Hassling him until Shiro either caved or they started fighting.
Shiro was regretting not kicking Jean-Paul out of his room when he found him curled up under his blankets a few hours ago.
For the life of him, Shiro could not understand why Jean-Paul wanted to be around him every second of each and ever day. Morning, noon, and night. They had gotten lunch earlier that day, sat next to each other during dinner, and curled up on the sofa during Storm’s team mandated movie night. When Jean-Paul felt they should be together even while they slept was beyond him.
Not that he would ever admit this, Shiro could feel some of his anxiety blow away as he listened to the soft hum of Jean-Paul’s chest rise and fall next to him. The soft sounds of his breath and the jarring movements he made as he twisted around were oddly soothing.
He closes his eyes as he tried to fall back asleep, only to be darted awake as something brushes against his scalp.
Shiro’s heartbeat stills as he realizes that the coldness combing through his hair are Jean-Paul’s fingers. The trace down the back of his head, swiftly running through his dark curls. Wrapping stands of hair around his fingers.
Shiro’s first instinct is to move away. Slap Jean-Paul’s fingers off his head and demand he stop. However he can’t bring himself to do it.
His chest slowly stops it’s aching as his breathing evens out. He curls deeper onto his pillow, trying not to alert Jean-Paul that he’s awake.
He squeezes his eyes closed as he curls in onto himself, focusing on the warm calmness blooming in his chest as Jean-Paul continues his ministrations.
Jean-Paul gives a small smirk as Shiro leans into his hand. It was amusing that he thought he could hid this from him and he was resisting the burning urge to tease him about it. But he knew it if he did, Shiro would pull away and kick him out of the room.
Instead Jean-Paul places a kiss to Shiro’s forehead and leans back down. Continuing to weave the soft pattern through his hair.
“Sweet dreams.” He tells him.
Somewhere Warmer Next Time
Fic based on this ask I anwsered for @monsieuroverlord a few months back.
"More wine?"
"What kind of a question is that? I almost died today, yes more wine."
Jean-Paul clicks his tongue. "So dramatic." He refills Kyle's glass careful not to spill any of the wine into the water. "I was never going to let anything bad happen to you."
"Sure." Kyle takes a sip.
Celebrating their third anniversary at a ski resort was obviously Jean-Paul's idea. Kyle had been far too tired at the time to reject it, when his husband brought it up after a long day of work.
"It'll be fun." Jean-Paul promised.
The first few days were fun. They walked around the resort grounds enjoying the scenic view of the mountains. Ate fine foods at the local restaurants. Curled up in the hot tub to relax.
So far so good.
It all came to ahead on the second day when Jean-Paul asked Kyle to join him on the slopes.
Despite being married to one of the most famous skiirs on the planet, Kyle was not a fan of the sport himself. Throwing himself down a snow covered mountain and hoping he didn't crash into anything was not his idea of a good time.
"You work for a snow sports company!" Jean-Paul complained.
"You pay me to do PR," Kyle told him. "Not ski."
Any time Jean-Paul has asked Kyle to join on the slopes, he had elected to stay at the lodge. He would plant a kiss on his husband's cheek, and spend the afternoon reading while Jean-Paul practiced death defying moves off the side of a cliff.
He wasn't sure what force compelled him to give in this time. Maybe it was the small pout Jean-Paul's lips curled into. Maybe it was the tired wine in his voice. Or the kisses he was planting on the back of Kyle's neck.
Because instead of saying: "Hell no!"
He gave a sigh and glanced over to his husband and said: "Why not?"
"Yes!" Jean-Paul cheered and kissed Kyle's lips. "My love, you will not regret this."
"I better not."
The next morning Jean-Paul dragged Kyle out of bed shortly before the slopes opened.
"We're on vacation!" Kyle moaned. "We're supposed to sleep in!"
"Yes, but we also want to beat the crowd." An already dressed Jean-Paul remarked, as he tore the blankets off his husband. "Come on."
Kyle rubbed his eyes and groaned. "The one time you wake up early."
Kyle knew how to ski. He had been around Jean-Paul long enough to pick up the basics. However knowing how to do something and being good at it are two different things.
While Jean-Paul was doing complicated twists and gravity defying jumps. Kyle struggled against the icy slopes. Tripping and trying not to tumble to his death as other skiers, some appearing to be as young as eight years old, passed him with ease.
"You need to relax, mon cœur."
The sudden presence of Jean-Paul's voice in his ear caused Kyle to jump and nearly stumble. His husband grabbed onto his hips and set him upright.
"I'm a little concerned about falling and breaking my neck." Kyle told him.
"That's your problem." Jean-Paul said. "You're too worried, you just need to get into the grove of things."
"Easy for you to say, you've been a ski champion since you were seventeen."
"I won my first match when was sixteen, actually." Jean-Paul corrected him.
Kyle sighed. "Can we just go back inside, I'm cold."
"In a little bit." Jean-Paul told him. "Here's your other problem, your posture is a mess."
Jean-Paul grabs Kyle's arms and bends them slightly. "Spread your legs, there we go, now shift your weight to your other leg."
Kyle did as asked.
"Much better." Jean-Paul remarked. "Okay, now lean forward."
Kyle did so, his skis began to slip, and he immediately straightened up.
"Kyle stop being afraid of the slopes, it's only going to hurt if you don't know what you're doing."
"I don't know what I'm doing!"
"Min dieu." Jean-Paul pinched his nose and shuffled over to his husband. "Would I ever allow something bad to happen to you?"
Kyle hesitated before answering. "No."
"Then trust me on this." Jean-Paul told him.
"Fine." Kyle said.
"Great now, lean forward."
Kyle did and he began to slide downwards.
"Wonderful!" Jean-Paul called. "You should be picking up momentum now."
Kyle tried not to startle as he began going faster, behind him he could hear Jean-Paul catching up to him.
"Move your poles a bit...no... yes!"
Kyle cracked Jean-Paul a smile and his husband excitedly returned it.
Kyle felt the cold wind brush against his face, snow squirt over his boots as his skis brushed the ground, as the warm energy of excitement over took him.
As he sped forward the blue, white, and occasionally green scene of the mountains blurred into a colorful kaleidoscope. He turned his focus to staying out of the way of the other skiirs.
Which was not what he needed to focus on.
From behind him Jean-Paul called: "Kyle watch out for that..."
"Ah!"
"Tree root!"
Kyle slammed forward, dropping his skis he began to roll down the mountain. Snow and dirt flying everywhere.
His body groaned and aches as it brushed against roots and rocks, showing no sign of stopping.
SWOOP!
"It's alright, I got you!"
There was a blur and Jean-Paul was above him. He grabbed Kyle and lifted him onto his feet.
"Urgh!" Kyle groaned, as he leaned against Jean-Paul's shoulder.
"Are you alright?" Jean-Paul asked eyes tracing over Kyle. "Anything bruised or broken?"
"Not that I can tell." Kyle said. "All I feel is cold."
"Let's go back to the lodge." Jean-Paul took his jacket off and wrapped it around the man next to him.
"Good idea." Kyle murmured as Jean-Paul swept him into his arms.
Jean-Paul flew Kyle back to their room as fast as he could. Undressing Kyle from his wet snow covered clothes and warming him up all while Kyle vowed never toet his husband talk him into skiing ever again. As they changed into their swimsuits.
"Admit it." Jean-Paul leans down and rests his head on Kyle's shoulder, the water bounces around them. "You had at least a little bit of fun."
Kyle sighs and rolls his eyes. "I suppose you could put it like that."
"Any chance you'll join me tomorrow?"
"Oh baby," Kyle leans down and kisses Jean-Paul's forehead. Before moving back and shaking his head. "Hell no."
"But..."
"I said what I said." Kyle takes another sip of his drink. "You're on your own."
"Fine." Jean-Paul slowly rises back up and picks up a menu. "Anything you want in particular?"
Kyle glances at the menu. "Sweet potato fries." He sets his drink aside. "Also next year we're going somewhere warm. Like Aruba, or Hawaii, I'll even take Florida."
"We are not spending our anniversary in Florida."
"Somewhere warm." He takes the menu from Jean-Paul's hands. "Granted, I don't care where we go so long as I'm with you."
He kisses Jean-Paul.
Jean-Paul kisses Kyle back and leans backwards. "Awe mon amour, that's so very sweet."
"And I'm not being put in active danger."
"It was this one time."
"Paris."
"Touché."
Reunions
Based on What If...? | Vol 2, #60
‘There were better ways to do this.’ Ororo thinks, her blue eyes glaring pointedly at Xavier.
‘How was I supposed to know they didn’t know about each other?’ Charles has to restrain himself from scoffing, but Ororo can hear a small breath of air escape his lips.
‘You could’ve read the files I gave you, for one.’
‘What’s going on?’ Piotr glances back and forth, from the center of the room back to his teammates. ‘Am I missing something here?’
Ororo doesn’t say anything instead she glances at the man and the women in the center of the room, who are staring at each other in silent shock.
The woman, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, was Piotr’s recruit. Charles had found her using Cerebro and sent Colossus to convince her to enlist in the X-Men. He had reportedly found her battling a group of thugs in an alleyway in Quebec. Persuading her was not much of a challenge.
The man, Jean-Paul Beaubier (née Martin), presented much more difficulties. Ororo wanted to give up within the first five minutes of meeting the man.
‘Now, Storm, it is of the utmost importance you convince Mr. Martin to join.’ Charles’ voice squiggled around in her brain, with the same welcome she would wish on a tapeworm.
‘I’m aware of that you need new X-Men, Professor.’ Ororo gave an internal sigh. ‘What I do not understand is why you need him.’
Jean-Paul Martin, a champion skier, also from Quebec. According to Cerebro he had the mutant abilities of superspeed, flight, light generation, and elf ears for some reason. Whether he was aware of his powers, Ororo wasn’t sure.
What she was sure of was the fact that she did not want to be on a team with this man.
The feeling was mutual.
So far Jean-Paul had insisted on having them leave the airport. He also got very disappointed when he requested they speak in French and Ororo told him it was not one of the many languages she spoke. On top of that he also insulted Ororo’s shoes, a pair of boots of which she was rather proud of.
“Mademoiselle Munroe,” He said as he slurped down the hot chocolate he had ordered. “Something tells me you aren’t here to discuss deal.”
The two of them were sitting outside a stylish café in Montreal. Ororo had cornered him as he was returning from a trip to Switzerland. She claimed to be a representative visiting Canada to offer him a deal. She might have let him believe it was for a partnership for some athletic wear brand.
“Not the kind you’re think of.” Ororo said.
“Alright.” Jean-Paul set his drink down and got up from his chair.
“Where are you going?” Ororo asked.
“Away.” Jean-Paul fiddled with his wallet and set down two ten-dollar notes onto the table. “You might be in the business of wasting other people’s time, Mademoiselle, but you’ll find that I consider my time to be very precious.”
Jean-Paul began to march towards the door and Ororo leaned back in her chair.
‘Oh well…’ She thought.
‘You didn’t even give him the pitch!’ Charles groaned.
‘With all due respect Professor, I don’t think that would have changed his mind.’
‘Go out there and get him.’
‘Fine!’
Ororo placed her own tip for the waiter on the table before heading out. Jean-Paul, thankfully, had only started opening his car door when she stepped outside.
“What do you want?” He hissed, as he swept a pile of snow off of the door’s handle.
“I want to discuss our deal.”
“We have no deal.” Jean-Paul forced his car door open. “I thought I made myself very clear on that.”
He slid into his car door and gave Ororo a flippant wave goodbye. “Have a nice day, mademoiselle. May we never see each other again.”
It took everything in Ororo not to roll her eyes. She would give Jean-Paul her pitch and hopefully he would say no clearly enough that Charles would get the hint, and she could go back to New York.
“Mr. Martin, I represent Professor Charles Xavier and his school for gifted youngsters in New York. I came here today to ask you…”
Jean-Paul slammed the car door shut and began to back out. Ororo shrugged her shoulders and began to turn around.
‘Storm, you need to stop him from leaving.’
‘Charles, he said no. Let it go please.’
‘I don’t care what you have to do. Flood the street, start a blizzard-’
‘You cannot be serious right now, he said…’
‘Just do it!’
‘Fine.’ Ororo thought.
Although skilled at her craft, it took a lot of effort for Ororo to summon her powers. The smallest of drizzles, the softest gust of wind, the teensiest ray of sun was the result of difficult concentration.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, as she felt the elements around her fall under her command. The water vapor that muddle the sky fell heavily on her shoulders, the cold air whirled around her, and the snow on the ground seeped into her soul.
The back tires of Jean-Paul’s car froze instantaneously. Halting the car in the middle of the street.
Jean-Paul swore as the drivers behind him lay on their horns, he jiggled his arm gesturing for them to drive around him.
He groaned as he saw the chunks of ice that kept his wheels frozen to the ground and muttered something under his breath as Ororo made her way over.
“I thought we agreed to go our separate ways.” Jean-Paul angrily shoved his hands into the pocket of his coat.
Ororo took a deep breath. She felt sorry for this man. As sorry as she could anyway, as Charles told her what to say next.
“I know your secret.”
Jean-Paul’s mouth popped open slightly. Terror widening his eyes and bleaching his skin white, before he took a deep breath and quickly fixed his face.
He closed his mouth and applied a smirk.
“Which one?”
With the knowledge of the Xavier’s School, along with the fact that Charles, as well as Ororo, knew of Jean-Paul’s habit of employing his abilities to win skiing competitions. She and Jean-Paul took a walk around the block. Stopping at a phone booth for Jean-Paul to call a tow truck.
“So,” Jean-Paul said as he hung up the phone. “What happens if I don’t join your little club?”
“You don’t join.” Ororo said. “I go back home and we find some other mutant to take your place.”
“That’s it?” Jean-Paul asked. “You don’t make a stop at the Daily Mail to reveal to them my secret?”
“No.” Ororo said. “Of course not.”
She might disagree with Jean-Paul’s methods, but that was no reason to expose the man to the whole world. Even if Charles instructed her to do it, Ororo wouldn’t.
She was many things.
A weather goddess, former thief, an X-Man…so on and so forth, but above all that Orro was a woman of principles.
“Thank you for your time.” She offered her hand to Jean-Paul and he shook it.
“You know I’m not going to join you, right?” He asked.
“I know.” Orro said. “But just in case…”
She pulled a card out of her pocket.
In black font it showed an X surrounded by a circle, underneath that the words: Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was printed in neat script. Along with the address and number for the school.
Jean-Paul took it and shoved it in his pocket. “I’m billing your people for the damages to my car.”
“If you must.” Ororo was quick to hid her smile. “Good night, Mr. Martin.”
“It’s Beaubier actually.” He told her. “Martin…Martin is false name; I’ve donned for quit too long.”
“Good night, Mr. Beaubier.” Ororo corrects herself and begins to walk away.
“Good night!”
Ororo hadn’t thought that Jean-Paul would try to contact the school. Much less actually show up. However he was there now, meeting Jeanne-Marie along with the rest of them.
Ororo had been aware that Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie were twins. She had done some research into the Beaubier girl’s background while Piotr went to recruit her.
Jeanne-Marie Beaubier and Jean-Paul Beaubier were born in Quebec, to two happy parents. However the Beaubier parents both died in a car accident, leaving their infant children to the Martins. However the Martins only had enough resources to take in one child. They chose Jean-Paul and sent Jeanne-Marie to Madame DuPont’s. A government sponsored girls’ school. Apparently neither the teachers of Madame DuPont’s, the Martins, nor the foster agency had made either of the Beaubier siblings aware of the others existence.
Neither had Charles for that matter.
“It’s like looking into a strange, distorted mirror.” Jean-Paul mused.
“Funny…” Jeanne-Marie said. “I was about to say the same thing.”
The twins circled each other, eyeing the other curiously.
They had the same blue eyes, same curved ears, and same black hair with white streaks.
Mirror images in every way except one.
“Jean-Paul,” Ororo walked over to them. “What are you doing here?”
The speedster finally took his eyes off his sister and turned to her. “I came to deliver the mechanic bills.” Jean-Paul told her. Ororo’s eyes glanced at the envelope he held in his hand. “I figured it be faster to bring them myself than have them sent by mail.”
He walked over to Charles who was in between Piotr and a small cat. Their youngest recruit, Sharon Smith, also known as Catseye. A teenage girl, whose parents Charles managed to convince to let her enroll at the school.
“Are you Professor Xavier?” Jean-Paul asked.
“Indeed, I am.” Charles held out his hand for Jean-Paul to shake it but found the envelope being thrust into his hand instead.
“That is the invoice from the towing company and the mechanic.” Jean-Paul finished. “I except you’ll compensate me accordingly.”
Charles blinked slowly, before letting out a loud cough. “Umm…of course.”
“Excellent!” Jean-Paul declared, he then made his way back to Jeanne-Marie. “Now Mademoiselle, who exactly are you supposed to be?”
“Jeanne-Marie Beaubier.” Her brow furrowed as she spat out. “Who, may I ask, are you?”
“Jean-Paul Beaubier.” He stated with equal ferocity.
Charles cleared his throat and rolled over to the two of them. “Right, now there is an explanation for this if you’ll allow me…”
Ororo could feel Ororo pulling the thoughts from her head. Charles recited the information listed on the twins’ birth certificates, statements from the adoption agency, and records found at Madame DuPont’s.
“Congratulations on finding each other.” Charles concluded. “I trust you’ll find each other a welcome addition to your lives.”
Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie stared at each other. Carefully observing each other’s reactions, as Charles carefully rolled back.
Catseye shifted into her human form. Dark fur purple shifting into pale lavender curls and pale skin. Her yellow eyes dimming purple. The only feature of her previous formed she retained was a long lavender tail.
“Do you think he’ll stay?” She whispered to Ororo.
“I’m not sure.” Ororo whispered back. “You’ll find, Catseye, that siblinghood isn’t built off blood alone.”
Jeanne-Marie was the first to extend her hand. “So brother, what do you say?” She asked. “Will you be joining the X-Men? I imagine it’ll be easier for us to catch up if we are living in the same place.”
Jean-Paul stared at the rest of the X-Men. His eyes glazing over Piotr, Charles, Catseye, before finally catching Ororo’s gaze.
She stared back.
Jean-Paul finally turned back to Jeanne-Marie and slowly took her hand. “I suppose, it would be beneficial if I joined the X-Men.” He said. “If only for us to get to know each other better. Besides…” He glanced at the ensemble on the other side of the room. “It seems you need all the help you can get.”
“Wonderful.” Charles clapped his hands slowly and then wheeled himself over to the pair. He offered his hand to Jean-Paul, who gently took it. “Welcome to the X-Men, Northstar.”
Ororo smiled.
In spite of the hurdles the X-Men had faced in the past. The resignation of Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Iceman, and Beast. She had a feeling this would all turn out well.
Note:
And then they all die, because that's what happens in the comic. They go on their first mission and they die.
Chapters: 3/? Fandom: X-Men: The Animated Series (Cartoon 1992) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jean-Paul Beaubier/Shiro Yoshida, Aurora | Jeanne-Marie Beaubier’s Alter & Jean-Paul Beaubier, Jean-Paul Beaubier & Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, John Proudstar & Shiro Yoshida, John Proudstar & Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, John Proudstar & Jean-Paul Beaubier Characters: Shiro Yoshida, Jean-Paul Beaubier, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, Aurora | Jeanne-Marie Beaubier’s Alter, John Proudstar, Ororo Munroe, Jubilation Lee, Remy LeBeau, Raven | Mystique (X-Men), Maria Callasantos, John Allerdyce, Julio Richter, Frederick Dukes, Dominikos Ioannis Petrakis, Neena Thurman, Cameron Hodge, Bolivar Trask, Henry Gyrich, Erik Lehnsherr Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Torture, Slavery, Claustrophobia, Heat Stroke, Rebellion, Post-Prison, Trauma Recovery, Internalized Homophobia, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mutants (X-Men), Mutant Powers (X-Men), Alpha Flight Team (Marvel), Fire Powers, Flying, Genosha (X-Men), Tokyo (City), Québec, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Episode: s01e07 Slave Island (X-Men: The Animated Series), Non-Explicit Sex, speedsters, 1990s, Sentinels | Mutant-Hunting Robots (X-Men), Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:
Shiro leans against the fridge and contemplates getting another glass of water. He wants to crawl back into bed, but one never knew when you’d come across another glass of clean water. Shiro shook his head. He really shouldn’t worry about these things. He wasn’t back there anymore.
Shiro struggles with the aftermath of Genosha.
New chapter update!!!
@dchuntress, I hope you don't mind but I going to answer your comments for: Light My Way Back To You, here because there's some stuff I want to get into.
I'm glad you liked the part about Aurora helping out with the show. I like the fact that Jeanne-Marie and Alison have similar powers and I wanted to play around with it.
Thanks, writing phone calls is a learned skill. Ideally you have to keep it brief when you can.
Yes, Mac's always looking to cash in on his teammates. All they are to him are stepping stones at the end of the day.
The reason this fic is paced so fast is that I went through two drafts of this before getting a finished project that I liked. By the time I was getting to the end of this I was fighting off several needy cats, eating lunch, and trying to get this posted before work. I was worried that the rushed pacing might bring some issues with its readability. Glad to see that's not the case.
The movie Dazzler and Aurora watch is a real movie. L'amore or Love as it's referred to in English was a short film collection by Italian director Roberto Rossellini. Jeanne-Marie and Alison catch the second part of the movie, Il miracolo, or The Miracle. The film follows an peasant woman named Nannina who is very religious. One day Nannina meets a shepherd, who she believes to be St. Joseph. The two share drink and Nannina passes out. A few weeks after the encounter she finds that she's pregnant and believes the child is an immaculate conception. Something the rest of the village mocks her for.
Alison and Jeanne-Marie's differing perspectives of the movie a nod to the early controversies the film caused. Some people believed it was about having a strong belief in God no matter what non-believers said. Others viewed The Miracle as an attack on Catholicism. This led to the film being banned in certain states.
I personally haven't had a chance to see the film yet, but I know of the films history thanks to Be Kind and Rewind's YouTube video.
Any way thank you for reading and thank you so much for the compliments.
Light My Way Back To You
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sex: However nothing explicit
Rated: Teen and Up
First time writing for Dazzler so hopefully she's not too ooc
Based on the parking by @dchuntress
Alison struggled against the sheets of her bed, as she bent over a notebook, pencil scratching in tune with the sound of the fan breezing on full blast.
She periodically glanced from her page to her phone trying to make sense of nonsense lyrics that had been scribbled down on her note’s app at random intervals over the past few weeks.
“Why did I even write that?” She shook her head as she clicked the backspace button.
She set the phone down on the nightstand, careful to keep its light away from the person sleeping next to her.
Jeanne-Marie limbs were spread across the bed like a starfish. Her arms were spread out in either direction, her right leg curled to her side, as her left one reached past her girlfriend. Her head was leaning off of her pillow; a few strands of dark hair were curling onto Alison’s.
Not that Alison minded it. She wasn’t getting much use out of the pillow anyway.
One would think during the few times she actually had a full day off of touring, promoting albums, and trying to upkeep a massive fanbase, she’d take full advantage of the opportunity to sleep. However, Alison Blaire was taking these precious hours to take care of other things.
With her career quickly reaching new heights and Jeanne-Marie’s position as a teacher and full time X-Man, there was very little time for either woman to see the other.
As Alison prepared for her summer tour, she and Jeanne-Marie had been on a few dates. Late-lunch dates, after school had wrapped up. Walks to the park, ear buds in each other’s ear as they shared their favorite music. Trips to the beach with their friends.
They had been some of the most magical moments of Alison’s life. She had gone on a few dates with other women after coming out and they were fine. However, Jeanne-Marie was different than anyone she had ever met.
The former schoolteacher wasn’t blinded by Alison’s fame as the pop star known as Dazzler. Rather Jeanne-Marie seemed to find the whole thing rather blasé when it was first brought up. However, that didn’t make it any less of an issue when Alison and Jeanne-Marie’s worlds began to collide.
It started with Alison’s summer tour, when she returned to her hotel room to hear her shower running.
“Hello?” Alison asked as she crept into the bathroom. “Who’s in there?”
She felt a warm brush of light as her fingers began to glow. She doubted she was going to find a stalker in there, more likely just someone who was given the wrong room and keycard. However one could never be too careful.
“Listen, I hate to break this to you, but I think the front desk made a mistake, this is my hotel room and—”
The shower curtain slid open to reveal a wet-haired Jeanne-Maire.
“Alison!” She cried.
“Jeanne-Marie!” Alison’s mouth fell open.
“Could you be a dear and pass me a towel, ma colombe?” Jeanne-Marie batted her dark eyelashes.
“Of course…” Alison reached towards a towel rack and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Jeanne-Marie began to dry her hair off.
“What are you doing here?” Alison started.
“I cam to visit, isn’t it obvious?” Jeanne-Maire wrapped the towel around her form and stepped out of the shower. “Besides it’s beautiful in Arizona this time of year.”
“If by beautiful you mean extremely hot, then yes.” Alison said.
Alison’s summer tour was set to go around most of the US. Starting in California and ending in New York. In the past month she had been to three cities, and Arizona had to be the warmest.
“I figured after I got dressed you and I could stroll around Phoenix together.” Jeanne-Marie snatched a brush off the bathroom sink’s counter. “Go sightseeing, get lunch, talk.” She sighed. “We’ve barely had a chance to talk in weeks.”
“I’m sorry about that, between my shows and the time difference it’s been hard to block out.” Alison said.
“No need to apologize.” Jeanne-Marie kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. “Now that I’m here, we can talk for as long as we want.”
“That sounds nice, one the lighting technicians mentioned a restaurant he and his wife used to go, that’s not to far from here.” She reached for her phone. “Let me see if I can find it.”
BUZZ!
Alison’s phone lit up with an email from the lighting company.
“One moment.” She told Jeanne-Marie as she clicked on it.
She skimmed through it, her mouth frowning with each additional word.
Ms. Blaire and Co…
We regret to inform you that due to an issue with your payment…
So and so inc. will be unable to provide lighting for your performance on…
Thank you and have a nice day.
“What happened?” Jeanne-Marie noticed the face Alison was making as she stared down at the phone.
“The lighting company just emailed me.” Alison groaned. “The check we sent in bounced and now we don’t have lights for the concert tomorrow.”
“Mon Dieu, that’s terrible.” Jeanne-Marie told her.
“We might have to put lunch on hold for moment.” Alison began to scroll through her contacts. “I have some phone calls to make.”
The next few hours, Alison spent calling her manager, members of the crew, the stadium, and the lighting company.
It turned out the signature on the cheque had been incorrectly flagged as a forgery by the bank. However there was no way that even with a proper payment that the lighting company would be able to show up the next day.
Which meant Alison spent another several hours making more calls with other lighting companies.
“Yes, I understand it’s short notice but we’re willing to pay whatever…” Alison sighed. “I see your located in San Deigo. It’s all right, thanks anyway.”
She hung up with a frustrated cry.
“Ugh!” Alison shouted as she flung herself onto the couch.
“Another company said they couldn’t do it?” Jeanne-Marie asked.
“Not by tomorrow.” Alison sighed. “We’re going to have to cancel the concert.”
Canceling the concert would not be a great start to the tour. So many people demanding refunds would damage Dazzler’s relationship with the venue. As well as losing them money to set up their next concert in Missouri.
“Maybe there’s something I can do to help.” Jeanne-Marie suggested.
“Not unless you can find me someone to set up lights by tomorrow.” Alison sighed.
“Maybe I can.” Jeanne-Marie smiled.
“Really?” Alison breathed a sigh of relief. “Jeanne-Marie that would be wonderful, who?”
“Me of course,” Jeanne-Marie gave a smile and waved her hands, bright lights glowed out of her palms. “My light powers should be bright enough so that everyone can see you.”
“You’d do that for me?” Alison tucked a lock of blond hair out of her face.
“But of course.” Jeanne-Marie kissed Alison’s cheek. “How could I say no to such a pretty face?”
“Thank you so much,” Alison told her. “I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, mon chou.” Jeanne-Marie said. “Besides…”
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
With that Jeanne-Marie leapt off the couch and was at the door in the blink of an eye. She opened it to reveal a man dressed in a hotel uniform carrying trays of food.
“You’ve already bought me dinner.”
Jeanne-Marie reached into her pocket and pulled out several crip bills and handed it to the man as she took the food. She set a tray down on the table in front of the couch.
“I hope you don’t mind but I got you a salad.”
“You mean you got yourself a salad.” Alison said.
“No, I got myself a steak.” Jeanne-Marie told her as she lifted the lid on her own food.
“You’re going to take to bites of that and then help yourself to my food.” Alison pointed out.
“When have I done that?”
“Only every time we’ve ever gone out to eat.”
“Hush,” Jeanne-Marie picked up the remote and pointed it at the tv. “Let’s watch a movie."
Jeanne-Marie selected an old Italian film about a woman who believed she was giving birth to the second coming of Christ or who knows maybe she was. It was left ambiguous.
“I’m surprised you like this movie.” Alison said.
“Why?” Jeanne-Marie asked.
“It just seems very critical of religion.”
“No it isn’t.” Jeanne-Marie shook her head.
“I mean the towns people don’t treat that woman very well. They leave her to give birth in an abandoned church.”
“It’s about devotion to God against all obstacles.” Jeanne-Marie told her. “Now shush, I can’t hear what they’re saying.”
“There are subtitles.”
“Shush!”
Alison and Jeanne-Marie arrived at the venue the next day. Alison’s manager were when Alison stepped out of the car with Jeanne-Marie alongside her.
“Aren’t you that Canadian superhero…Snowbird or something?”
Jeanne-Marie huffed. “That would be one of my teammates.” She held out her hand. “I am Aurora.”
“Aurora’s offered to help us with our light problem.” Alison told them.
“She can do that?” One of her manager’s asked.
“Yes,” Jeanne-Marie told him. “With my powers of light and my flight, I should be able to assist Dazzler with the lighting effects.”
“Well that’s wonderful.” Another chimed in. “You see what we need is…”
“Alison and I have already gone over the procedures.” Jeanne-Marie brushed him off. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to find somewhere to touch up my makeup before tonight.”
“The trailers are down that way.” The manager pointed.
“Thank you.” Jeanne-Marie said before zooming off.
The crew dispersed for work and Alison headed for the stage. The heat already soaking through her tank top.
“She seems handy.” The manager said as he joined Alison on the stage.
“Very.” Alison said. “Jeanne-Marie is a very busy woman she’s a teacher, studies both history and geography, an amateur archologist, she’s also a part of the X-Men and Alpha Flight. When we first met she was working as a linguist for NASA and—”
“Jeez, Ali,” Her manager chuckled. “Where’d you find this girl?”
“We met working on the X-Men.” She said. “Hit off from there.”
“Seems like a pretty good friend.”
“Yes…” Alison’s voice trailed off. “Yes she is.”
Alison had come out as gay to her fans and a general public about a year before she and Jeanne-Marie began dating. Although Jeanne-Marie was openly supportive of her brother, she didn’t wasn’t ready to come out to the public yet.
“You see what people say about Jean-Paul.” She told her. “And yourself, I’m just not ready to deal with it yet.”
“And I understand that.” Alison said.
As much as she wanted to show off her girlfriend to the world, she saw where Jeanne-Marie was coming from. It took Alison herself several years to accept who she was. Jeanne-Marie was still trying to figure that out.
“Besides,” She added. “With Northstar a permanent member of the X-Men, if Mac finds out we’re together he’ll try harder than ever to get me back on Alpha Flight.”
“He’s that desperate for good PR?” Alison asked.
“You have no idea.”
Alison and her back-up dancers spent a few hours before the concert going over dance routines. However they never got far before having to take a mandated break.
“We already have enough issues as it is, we don’t need anyone in the hospital.” Her manager shouted out. a
After a quick lunch, Alison was ushered to her trailer to get ready for the eight o’clock performance.
Her hair was combed back, large amounts of blue eye shadow drawn and brushed over her face, afterwards she and a few assistants zipped her up into a white jumper decorated with shiny yellow and blue beads.
Alison thanked the crew members as the left to go assist the dancers. As the trailer’s front door closed she turned to the mirror and examined herself.
The suit was formfitting but had enough movement for her to dance in. She caught a glimpse of the peeling paint sitting on her toenails and was grateful she had selected a pair of sneakers instead of the open-toed wedges she had been considering.
“You look wonderful!”
Alison’s attention was pulled away from the mirror as Jeanne-Marie appeared in her line of sight.
She smiled.
“I can say the same for you.”
Her girlfriend was changed out of the button up shirt and long purple skirt she had shown up to the venue in. Now sporting a tight black sleeveless jumpsuit and heels. Her dark hair tied up in a thick bun.
“Your stylists decided it was simple enough, so I didn’t stand out, but stylish enough.”
Alison wrapped her arms around Jeanne-Marie’s neck and glanced up into her eyes. Her partner was annoyingly much taller than her when heels were added into the mix.
“If you decide you can’t do this, I understand.” Alison told her. “Just say the word and—”
“Your fans are already waiting outside the arena, it’s far too late to cancel the concert.” Jeanne-Marie told her. “Besides, I’m feel fine. I’m excited to finally see one your shows live in person.”
“Yes, but ideally you wouldn’t be working the show.” Alison pointed out.
“It works better this way.” Jeanne-Marie said. “I get bored easily.”
Alison and Jeanne-Marie continued to stare into each other’s eyes. Alison’s pupils tracing Jeanne-Marie’s sparkling blue eyes.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
Both women jumped at the sound at the door.
“Dazzler we need you on stage for a sound check.” A crew member called.
“I have to go.” Alison released Jeanne-Marie and grabbed her shoes as she headed for the door.
“Good luck…oops.” Jeanne-Marie covered her mouth when she realized what she said. “I mean break a leg.”
“Thanks, you are too.” Alison blew her a kiss as she headed outside.
Alison and Jeanne-Marie didn’t see each other for the next few hours. Not as Alison was mic’d up, given a new pair of shoes after it was found her shoes squeaked against the set, and her imperfections to her makeup were fixed.
The crowds soon began to pack the stadium and then it was time.
“You ready?” Her manager asked her.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Alison glanced from the stage wings trying to see if she could find Jeanne-Marie. Unfortunately there was no sigh on her.
Alison plastered on a smile as she walked onto the stage.
She had a job to do and she needed to focus.
“Hello Phoenix!” She cried.
The crowd roared in applause as light sprinkled over Alison.
She glanced up to see Jeanne-Marie soaring above the crowd. A tiny dot amongst the stars.
Alison smiled as she began to introduce her first song.
The next few hours Alison sang the songs listed on her current album, going into a few favorites, and ending with a song she was working on for her next release.
Alison shouted out her goodnights to fans before being rushed off stage. From there she spent time signing autographs for fans who bought VIP tickets, answered a few questions, and said goodbye before rushing out of the stage.
By then most of the fans were gone. The stadium was empty save for those who were on clean up duty.
“Alison!”
Alison’s head jerked to see Jeanne-Marie standing by the stadium’s fence drinking out of a bottle of water.
Alison ran towards her, tackling Jeanne-Marie in a hug.
The laughed tiredly. They were both sweaty and exhausted from the past few hours.
“You were amazing!” Jeanne-Marie whispered.
“As were you!” Alison smiled. “The lights you created were perfect.”
“Please they were all your idea, I just followed the instructions.”
“Well you followed them perfectly.” Alison kissed her cheek.
She leaned back and pushed a lock of loose hair out of Jeanne-Marie’s face. “Why don’t you and I got out and get something to eat?” “That would be wonderful, let’s go back to the hotel first so I can shower and—”
RING!
RING!
RING!
Jeanne-Marie’s phone lit up in her jumper’s pocket.
“One moment.” She released Alison from her hold and dug into her pocket. Scowling when she saw the contact’s name.
“What do you want Mac?” She said. “Also how did you get my number?”
There was some muttering and Jeanne-Marie gave an exhausted sigh.
“I’m not on Alpha Flight anymore and since when was that my problem.”
More muttering from the other line.
“I’m in Pheonix, surely there’s someone else…” She gritted her teeth. “Fine, I’ll be there.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear and slammed the hang up button with a huff.
“What was that about?” Alison asked.
“Madison’s brother is back, something…something…they can’t find him…something…something…Michael’s been kidnapped.” She said. “They need a speedster and since Jean-Paul won’t answer any of their calls, the responsibility falls onto me.”
“I take this means their won’t be a dinner.”
“No.” Jeanne-Marie shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Alison told her. “Canceled dates, world ending threats, and Alpha Flight is what I signed up for when I started dating you.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Jeanne-Maire placed her phone back into her pocket. “What’s your next stop?”
“Maryland Heights.” Alison told her. “After that we’re going to Nashville.”
“I’ll try to stop at one of them.” Jeanne-Marie kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Alison told her as Jeanne-Marie began to fly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“No, this is my battle darling!” Jeanne-Marie shouted. “Besides I don’t want you meeting Alpha Flight unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
And with that she was gone.
To Alison’s disappointment, Jeanne-Marie wasn’t in Maryland Heights, and she hadn’t heard a word from her since arriving in Nashville. The morning she got on her flight to Georgia she received a text.
JM <3 <3 <3: Sorry I couldn’t make it last night.4:44am
JM <3 <3 <3: I was exiting the house, and I got a call from Storm about Attuma flooding New York.4:46am
Alison: I saw that on the news, figured you were tied up.5:02am
Alison: Are you all right?5:02am
JM <3 <3 <3: I’m fine.12:31pm
JM <3 <3 <3: Just a broken heart.12:33
Alison sighed, as much as she loved her career, she couldn’t wait for this tour to be over.
Towards the beginning of September, Alison arrived home earlier than initially planned. Unfortunately for her, Jeanne-Marie and a few of the other X-Men were in space. She had to wait a few more weeks for Jeanne-Marie to return.
When Jeanne-Marie walked through the door, cape flowing behind her, Alison tackled her into a hug.
“Alison, I wasn’t expecting you for another week!”
“I missed you too much!” Alison cried. “Our venues in Florida cancelled so it sped up the process.”
“I was thinking now that you’re back we could go to the park, or a new roller-skating arena opened up, of course I imagine you also want to do dinner…” Alison glanced at the bags on Jeanne-Marie’s eyes. “Or maybe you want to take nap?”
“Mon amour, I have missed you so much I have no intention of wasting any more time than we already have.” Jeanne-Marie tossed her cape to the side and began to take off her suit. “My first order to business is a shower, care to join me?”
“Of course.” Alison took Jenane-Marie’s hand as they raced to the bathroom.
After the shower they began to make plans.
In October Alison was set to start work on a new album, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to take advantage of the weeks they did have. Jeanne-Marie would do everything to get out of X-Men duty and Alison likewise. They’d spend their brief time together watching movies, going out, and of course in bed.
They would spend every waking hour dedicated to each other.
Which was why Alison was taking advantage of her girlfriend’s slumber, to adjust the lyrics for her new songs. She reworked the chorus of her newest melody, only to be interrupted by something soft brushing against her neck.
“Hey!” She giggled dropping her pencil, which was quickly swallowed up by the bed.
“Good morning…” Jeanne-Marie continued to move her lips down Alison’s neck.
“It’s not morning.” Alison said. “It’s two.”
“Then why are you still up?” Jeanne-Marie asked.
“Because I’m working.” Alison told her.
“How dreadfully boring.” Jeanne-Marie’s hands moved down Alison’s waist, playing with her top. “I can think of so many fun things I’d rather be doing…”
“We just finished up a few hours ago…” Alison’s words drifted off into a moan as Jeanne-Marie nibbled against her neck.
“You’re point?” Jeanne-Marie muttered as she tossed her own shirt to the ground.
“You make an excellent argument.” Alison tossed her work materials aside and laid down on the bed.
Jeanne-Marie’s lips nuzzled on the skin of Alison’s neck as her fingers slid slowly up her chest.
“I’m going to miss you so much once we go back to work.” Alison sighed as their lips connected together.
“Me too, my love, me too.” Jeanne-Marie sighed as she began working with the buttons on Alison’s nighty.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” Alison agreed as she slid her hands around Jeanne-Marie’s back. “After the last tour, my career is only getting better and it’s only a matter of time before I’m back on the road again.”
Jeanne-Marie sighed. “And it’s only matter of time before the X-Men decided to shoot me into space again.” She said. “However, I don’t want to spend our few fleeting moments of free time thinking about that. I want to spend it with you.”
“Yes but…” Jeanne-Marie pressed a finger to Alison’s mouth silencing her.
“You’re worrying isn’t going to help anything, you know that right?”
“Yes, but I’m just going to miss you so much.” Alison told her.
“And I’m going to miss you just as much.” Jeanne-Marie said. “But I don’t want to miss you when I could be enjoying you. Let me enjoy you while I still can.”
“Alright.” Alison said, kissing the side of Aurora’s face. “Let’s do it.”
“I knew you’d listen to reason.” Jeanne-Marie began to fiddle with Alison’s pants. “Now take these off.”
Alison laughed. “Anything for you.”
Maybe she and Jeanne-Marie wouldn’t be able to spend their every waking moment together. It was just one of the many sacrifices they’d have to make to be together. Alison figured she could learn to be okay with that.
Besides, at the end of it all, they’d always have their home to return to.
There May Be Something There That Wasn't There Before
Another Joanne Beaubier lives fic
“You look beautiful.” Jean-Paul mutters.
Kyle nods in agreement, not being able to say much, as Jean-Paul nibbles on his neck. Kyle was pushed up against a wall, his legs wrapped around his torso, and his hands messing with his hair.
Jean-Paul lifts the oversized NYU sweater Kyle’s wearing, cold hands making him flinch, as they rub against his sides. “Mmm.”
“You have no idea how much I missed you while you were away.” Jean-Paul nibbles Kyle’s ear, earning a small gasp.
“I was in Washington for a weekend.” Kyle yanks on Jean-Paul’s hair and kisses his forehead.
“Still too long.” Jean-Paul whines.
“Maybe you should come with me next time.” Kyle suggests. “Stevie’s been dying to meet my hot-new-Canadian boyfriend.”
“I’m Quebecois.” Jean-Paul corrects.
“I’m going down there next month.” Kyle kisses one of Jean-Paul’s cheeks. “You should come with.”
“As much as I’d love to meet your family,” Jean-Paul sighs. “I don’t think travel’s going to be a possibility. The plane ride alone-”
Kyle groans. “You’re a speedster,” He argues. “You could be there in two seconds flat, no plane ride necessary.”
“Yes, but think of I’ll the things I’m going to have to carry.” Jean-Paul continues. “It’d be a nightmare to…”
Kyle places another kiss on Jean-Paul’s lips. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
Jean-Paul gives a sigh. “I’ll think about it.” His hands move underneath Kyle to better support him. “Now…”
Kyle let’s out a chuckle as Jean-Paul lifts him across the room and tosses him onto the bed. Their lips press against each other as Jean-Paul climbs on top of Kyle, tossing his shirt to the other side of the room as he dose so.
Kyle runs his hands against Jean-Paul’s chest and lets out a hum.
“See something you like?” Jean-Paul smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.
Kyle rolls his eyes and pulls Jean-Paul down for another kiss. “You’re lucky your hot.”
“Oh please, you love me for more than just my looks.”
“I do?”
“Yes, my charm, my personality, my talent.” Jean-Paul lists. “All equally contributing factors to your undying love for me.”
“I suppose you have a point.” Kyle kisses him again and brings Jean-Paul’s hands back down to his sweater. “Now, enough talking and more-”
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Kyle was interrupted by the sound of small patters beating against the door. Jean-Paul turns away from the man underneath him and glances at the door.
“Papa…” A meek little voice calls out.
Jean-Paul is on the other side of the room before Kyle can sit up. He opens the door, and Kyle can see a toddler standing in the hallway. She was dressed in pink pajamas and clutching a toy rabbit by it’s leg. She bit on her thumb shyly as she glanced at the man standing above her.
“Mon étoile,” Jean-Paul hunches down on his knees, her runs a hand through Joanne’s hair. “What are you still doing up?”
Joanne doesn’t say anything and instead glances over at the man lying on her father’s bed.
“Hi Kwyle.” Her three year old lips greet.
“Hi.” Kyle gives a sheepish wave as he tries not to let his embarrassment show.
There’s no way Joanne could have known what they were doing but the discomfort of being caught still hangs over Kyle. He sits himself up and crosses his legs, as Joanne pushes past her father.
“Twhat you doing?” Joanne climbs up on to the bed, her little legs kicking as she tries to pull herself up.
“Umm…” Kyle says.
“Kyle and I are having a sleepover.” Jean-Paul states simply as he hauls Joanne onto the bed. He sits the little girl on his lap. “We were just about to start a movie.”
“Movie.” Joanne reaches for the remote on Jean-Paul’s bedside with startling accuracy. “Bweauty and Beast.”
Jean-Paul sighs. “You know what, Joanne.” He takes the remote from his child’s hands and gives it to Kyle. “Let’s let our guest pick the movie.”
Kyle has been on the receiving end of several rants from Jean-Paul concerning Joanne’s obsession with the Beauty and the Beast movie. Over the past three months the speedster has been forced to watch it over and over again.
Kyle takes the remote and clicks around until he finds the search bar. Giving Joanne a conspiratorial glance he decides: “Beauty and the Beasts.”
Joanne claps her hands wildly, the slapping of her palms is almost loud enough to hide Jean-Paul’s groan of despair. As the Disney logo flashes on screen, Joanne crosses her legs and moves to the edge of the bed eagerly.
“Why do you hate me?” Jean-Paul leans his head against Kyle’s shoulder as they settle against the pillows.
“Shush, movie’s starting.”
Joanne sings along to “Belle” with eagerness, Kyle quotes to parts he remembers, and despite his earlier protests Kyle can hear Jean-Paul mumbling the words to “Gaston”.
SNORE!
Kyle’s startled out of “Be Our Guest” and turns to glance over at Jean-Paul. His head was pressed against the pillow, eyes shut, as his breathing continues. Kyle grabs a blanket from the end of the bed and tossed it over him. Placing a kiss on his lover’s forehead before turning back to the movie.
Kyle casts frequent glances at Joanne as the wolf chase plays out, remembering the movie scenes that haunted his own childhood. Mufasa’s death, the Flying Monkey scene from the Wizard of Oz, everything about All Dogs Go to Heaven. However, the little girl seemed unphased as the Beast rescued Belle and brought her back to the castle.
“Everyone knows her father’s a lunatic. He was in here tonight raving about a beast in a castle.”
“Maurice is harmless.”
“The point is Belle, would do anything to keep him from being locked up.”
“Yeah, even marry him.”
Kyle watches Joanne’s shoulders tense up as the scene plays out. Every time the camera pans to the doctor she squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s staring at something horrifying.
“Joanne?” Kyle asks. “Are you okay?”
Joanne shakes her head, and Kyle snatches up the remote pausing on LeFou being tossed out into the freezing cold. “Do you want to talk about it?”
If Joanne didn’t want to talk to Jean-Paul about what was going on earlier, he doubts she’ll share her secrets with him. Kyle had only been in her life for a few months after all. When the first met she spent the entire time clutching onto her father, barely speaking a word, only giving Kyle a small wave as he left. She had warmed up to him in recent months, but he wasn’t sure how close they were yet.
“The dwoctor is scwary.” Joanne mutters.
“The doctor scares you?” Kyle repeats for clarification.
Joanne nods, her head tilted downwards, eyes focusing on Jean-Paul’s grey sheets.
“It’s okay.” Kyle leans over to reassure her. “He’s not real, he can’t hurt you.”
“No, nowt him.” Joanne shakes her head. “Owther.”
“Otter?” Kyle raises an eyebrow.
“No, owther.”
It takes Kyle a moment to realize what she’s saying and then it finally dawns on him. “Oh other.” Kyle pauses. “The other doctor… your doctor.”
He remembers Jean-Paul telling him about how he had to take Joanne to the doctor’s the next morning. “They want to run some test, draw some blood, make sure everything’s going okay.” He rambled. “So far we’ve been lucky.”
As a small infant, Joanne had tested positive for HIV. Something she likely inherited from her mother and had threatened her life in more ways than one. As a result, she had spent the first two months of her life in a hospital until the doctors declared her stable enough to go home with Jean-Paul. Despite this miraculous success Joanne still had to take medication, and most days it was a fight to get her to swallow it.
“You’re scared of going to the doctor’s tomorrow?”
“They have needles.” Joanne shudders, tears well in her eyes. “Dwon’t wanna go.”
“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Kyle reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder and gives it a small rub. “They just want to make sure your healthy.”
“I dwon’t want to be sick.” The tears are falling down Joanne’s face now. “Down’t like it.”
“I know, I know.” Kyle glances at Jean-Paul wondering if he should wake him up. “Do you want to watch something diff-oof!”
Joanne’s tiny body slams into Kyle, as she wraps herself around him. Tiny head bouncing as she presses muffled sobs into Kyle’s sweater.
“Everything is going to be all right.” Kyle glances down at Joanne, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “The doctor’s just going to test your blood, afterwards you’ll get a band aid, a sticker, and a lollipop.” He gives her a smile. “You like lollipops, right?” “Yeah.” Joanne huffs. “Still dwon’t wanna go.”
“How about this?” Kyle gives her an offer she can’t refuse. “I’ll get you a whole bag of lollipops if you go to the doctor’s tomorrow? We’ll stop at the store on our way home.”
“You’re coming?” Joanne asks.
Kyle pauses, not sure what kind of reaction this will illicit from the child sitting on his lap. “Only if you want me there.”
Joanne stares up at him. “You pwomise to get wollipops?”
Kyle nods. “Cross my heart.”
She nods. “Okay.” And turns back to the tv.
Kyle clicks play and the “There’s Something” starts up.
He’s going to get an earful about this from Jean-Paul tomorrow. He imagines it going something like this.
“You promised her what?”
“You’re spoiling her.”
“Where am I even going to put a bag of lollipops?”
He’ll get over it though. As much as he’ll accuse Kyle of spoiling Joanne rotten, he’s so much worse.
Kyle’s eyes move from the tv and back to the little girl. Joanne’s eyes are filled with joy, her mouth showing off a toothy smile, her hands clasped in front of her.
Besides he’d give anything to see Joanne happy.
Pillow Fight
Based on this post
Also this is my first time writing for Thunderbird and Banshee, so I do apologize if I get them wrong.
@rcwaffles and @severalmoremutants
Are you done yet?" Shiro grumbled from his place in the bed.
"What's the rush?" Jean-Paul asked as he smeared yet another brand of lotion onto his hands.
"I want to go to bed."
"Then go to bed."
"I can't." Shiro told him. "You won't let me turn the lights off."
"It's called skincare." Jean-Paul massaged the lotion into his face.
"Also known as I'm already regretting allowing you to stay the night in my room."
"Fine." Jean-Paul wiped his hands on a towel laying next to the mirror. "But when I get dry skin it's your fault."
"I have no doubt you'll manage to make it my fault anyway." Shiro shuffled to the left, allowing Jean-Paul to take up space on the other side of the bed. "Good night." He told him as he pulled the chord to the lamp, sending the room in to darkness.
Sinking his head into the pillows, Shiro pulled down his sleeping mask and closed his eyes. Allowing the coolness of the sheets to relax his muscles.
He could feel his body drifting off to sleep just as something heavy settled onto his chest. Shiro lifted his sleeping mask and glared at the man curled up on his chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Cuddling." Jean-Paul anwsered.
Jean-Paul's head was rested underneath Shiro's chin, the rest of his chest connecting with Shiro's.
"Get off of me!" Shiro told him, jostling his body and knocking Jean-Paul onto his side.
"Ow!" Jean-Paul grumbled.
"Much better." Shiro murmured, settling back into his previous position. He pulled down his mask--
SMACK!
"Hey!"
Shiro pulled off his mask to see Jean-Paul lunging a pillow at him.
SMACK!
"Stop it!" Shiro grabbed onto the end of the pillow and pulled it out of Jean-Paul's hands. "What has gotten into you?"
"I'll have you know plenty of people would die to cuddle me." Jean-Paul spat.
"Well, I'm not one of them."
"What is so bad about having me cuddle you?"
"For starters, you wrap your hands all the way around me."
"That's called a hug."
"Your fingertips are like icicles."
"How dare--"
"Second, your head is heavy."
"Shiro--"
"And third it puts you in a much easier position to kick me in my sleep."
"So?" Jean-Paul groaned. "You sleep talk and you don't hear me complaining."
"You literally complained about it this morning."
"You know what," Jean-Paul latched onto the pillow and pulled it from Shiro's hands. "Get out!"
"It's my room!"
"I don't care, get out!"
"Give me my pillow back!"
Shiro grapped onto the cushion, Jean-Paul wrapped his arms around it pulling it closer to his chest. Shiro tried to grab it from him, but Jean-Paul moved backwards, falling off the bed in the process.
Crash!
"Owe!"
Shiro laughed.
As Jappanese and French curses, seeped through the walls into the next room, John gave a groan.
Relecutantly reaching for his bookmark and stuffing it in between the pages of the book he was reading. He tossed it aside and moved to the wall.
"Would you two shut up!" He banged his fist against the wall that connected his room to Shiro's. "It's almost midnight!"
They ingnored him in favor of screaming at each other.
"Honest to...." John walked over to his bed and snatched up his book before racing out the door.
He made a beeline to the door at the other end of the hallway and gently knocked on it.
It swung open, to reveal Sean wrapped in a robe.
"Let me guess they're at it again?" He stepped aside to let John into his room.
"Same thing every night." John said. "I'm the unlucky bastard who has to have the room in between them."
He collapsed onto Sean's bed, tearing his book open as he kicked the covers a side.
"They really need to break up." Sean threw himself next to John. As the man beside him flipped through his pages, Sean tossed the blanket over them.
"No!" John glanced up. "The last time they broke up they screamed at each other non stop. They yelled through my walls."
"That bad?"
"I can swear like a sailor in both French and Jappanese now." John sighed. "So no, they don't need to break up, I just need a new room."
"Well your books have certainly made a home here." Sean gestured to the pile of books sitting on his dresser. Books on faries, Greek Mythology, Apache Folk Tales, and several other mythologies were stacked on top of each other.
"I'll bring them back tomorrow." John told him.
Sean shook his head. "No, it's fine." He said. "It's probably more convinet if you leave them here."
"Okay." John said and turned back to his book.
Sean leaned against his pillows and scratched his chin. "You know come to think of it, you're in here more often than you are in your own room."
"Blame Shiro and Jean-Paul." John protested. "Besides you invited me."
"I'm not complaining." Sean told him. "If anything I think it be easier if you just moved in here altogether. Save you the trip."
"Your really okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, thanks, Sean." John said. "You know I think you're the best friend, I've ever had."
"Right..." Sean gave John a smirk. "Best friend."
"Why are you smiling at me?"
"What I can't smile anymore?"
"You're so weird." John sighed and went back to his book.
"Night." Sean closed his eyes, letting the rustling of John's pages lure him to sleep.
For such a smart guy, he could be so clueless.
Lights in the Dark
@danimoonstarweek
My small contribution to Dani Moonstar week.
TW: Nightmares, panic attacks, and suicidal ideation.
Takes place during New Mutants.
Her body bolts upwards, quilt falling off her chest and onto her lap. She takes large heating breaths, as if she’s emerged from underwater.
She keeps her eyes screwed shut as she fumbles for the knife next to her bed. Only opening her eyes once it’s been unsheathed.
Dani’s dark eyes glance around the room. Carefully surveying every inch of the room without getting up.
Closet.
Check.
Windows.
Check.
Under the bed?
Dani took a shaky breath before cautiously leaning over her blue comforter, knife first, in case anything should pop out.
The floor under the bed is empty. Nothing but smooth wooden floorboards and dust.
Dani takes a sigh of relief before dragging herself back to the top of her bed.
She felt almost childish, like a scared little girl checking under the bed for a monster.
Except Dani’s actions weren’t childish.
They were a matter of life and death.
Dani was a mutant. A mutant with the power to reach into the crevices of others’ minds and pull out their greatest fears.
Including her own.
Which meant Dani’s monsters typically turned out to be real.
Except for tonight.
Thankfully.
However…
She could be wrong.
Dani’s nightmare didn’t have to appear in the room with her. It could easily be downstairs.
In the living room, in the library, somewhere in the kitchen.
It wasn’t out of bounds that she could walk downstairs the next morning to find her grandfather’s corpse slumped over the kitchen table.
Dani lets out a sob at that thought.
It was bad enough having to stumble upon the dead body of her grandfather once.
She didn’t think she could do it again.
Her body grows cold as she remembers riding out in the middle of the night, her grandfather having left home, and still hadn’t returned.
He was getting older, his body growing frailer, not that he would hear of it. Perhaps he had fallen and couldn’t get up.
Maybe he was hit by a car and had to be rushed to the hospital.
He could’ve also gotten lost.
But that was most unlikely.
Dani’s heart stopped when she did see him. Lying on the ground, white hair caked in dirt, eyes closed with pain and worry.
She rushed towards him screaming, grabbing onto him, hoping she was wrong.
She wasn’t.
That was the moment Dani’s life changed all those months ago. When she left her home in Wyoming and traveled to Charles Xavier’s school in New York.
That was the moment Dani relived in her dreams.
Dani’s body shook at the idea of coming downstairs to find her grandfather’s body once again.
She didn’t care if it was just a figment of her imagination, it would be all too real.
Dani wrapped her arms around her shoulders and gave a loud sob.
She hated crying. The itchy scratches of tears running down her face, as snot gurgled in her nose, and air cut against her lungs.
Tonight though she couldn’t help it.
The thoughts of death zoomed around her head, crushing her skull like a soda can.
This wasn’t the first time it happened, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Dani glanced at the knife in her hand and briefly imagined what it would be like to zip it’s blade against her wrists, before lying back down in bed, her heavy grief slowly draining out as the blood pooled against the sheets.
Dani tossed the knife across the room in a panic. It gave a loud clang as it hit the floor.
Her breath sped up, as she let out more hyperventilated gasps.
No, no, no. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to die…
She just wanted it all to stop.
Dani snatches up a pillow and wraps it around her head. As if that could stave away the thoughts of death that creeped around her like a monster in the dark.
Dani’s not sure how much time passed before the door opened. She was too lost in her thoughts.
Grandfather, mom, dad, her body lying against the bed.
Stop…stop…stop.
Xuân is the first one to come in. Probably because she had the room right next to Dani’s.
Xuân glances at the knife sitting on the floor, she doesn’t say anything. Instead she carefully picks it up before setting it on the bookshelf, far from Dani’s bed.
Dani doesn’t greet Xuân.
She can’t talk.
She can’t move.
She can’t breathe.
She can’t do anything.
Xuân doesn’t say anything as she takes a seat next to Dani. Her legs crossed under her as she sets herself by Dani’s feet.
Xuân doesn’t move, she doesn’t touch Dani, she doesn’t speak.
She just sits there.
Which Dani is grateful for.
Roberto is next.
How he heard Dani or knew she needed help, she has no idea, but he’s there.
He doesn’t say anything either, instead he follows Xuân’s led and takes a seat next to Dani. Resting his back against one of her pillows.
He does turn the lamp on, which Dani is grateful for.
Even with Xuân there everything seemed so much worse in the dark.
Sam arrives as Roberto turns on the light. He glances at his classmates, blue eyes finally landing on Dani.
He sits down next to Xuân, he doesn’t say anything, but he does grab the blanket at the foot of Dani’s bed and wraps it around her shoulders.
It’s a sweet gesture, that Dani’s panicked mind finds somewhat comforting.
The group sits in silence for a few minutes, as Dani’s breaths start to resemble normal breathing patterns.
She can feel her chest warm up and calm as the tears on her face dry and the snot coating her nostrils starts to harden.
Panic is briefly replaced by embarrassment, but she thinks of how many times one of the others have burst out crying in the middle of the day.
Xuân during a flashback.
Sam when he missed his siblings back in Kentucky.
Roberto when confronted by memories of Juliana’s death.
The embarrassment is replaced by sympathy as she leans against one of her pillows.
Rahne’s the last one to arrive. She crawls on the floor, her big bushy tail wagging to and forth as stops at the edge of Dani’s bed.
Xuân and Sam create some space for her and Rahne leaps onto Dani’s lap.
She uses her tongue to lick the dried tears off Dani’s face, before setting her head down on Roberto’s free lap.
The group continues to stay nothing, instead they just sit in the warmth of each other’s company.
And Dani thinks that for now, that’s just enough to keep the monsters that lurk in her head at bay.
Chapters: 2/? Fandom: X-Men: The Animated Series (Cartoon 1992) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jean-Paul Beaubier/Shiro Yoshida, Aurora | Jeanne-Marie Beaubier’s Alter & Jean-Paul Beaubier, Jean-Paul Beaubier & Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, John Proudstar & Shiro Yoshida, John Proudstar & Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, John Proudstar & Jean-Paul Beaubier Characters: Shiro Yoshida, Jean-Paul Beaubier, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, Aurora | Jeanne-Marie Beaubier’s Alter, John Proudstar, Ororo Munroe, Jubilation Lee, Remy LeBeau, Raven | Mystique (X-Men), Maria Callasantos, John Allerdyce, Julio Richter, Frederick Dukes, Dominikos Ioannis Petrakis, Neena Thurman, Cameron Hodge, Bolivar Trask, Henry Gyrich, Erik Lehnsherr Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Torture, Slavery, Claustrophobia, Heat Stroke, Rebellion, Post-Prison, Trauma Recovery, Internalized Homophobia, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mutants (X-Men), Mutant Powers (X-Men), Alpha Flight Team (Marvel), Fire Powers, Flying, Genosha (X-Men), Tokyo (City), Québec, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Episode: s01e07 Slave Island (X-Men: The Animated Series), Non-Explicit Sex, speedsters, 1990s, Sentinels | Mutant-Hunting Robots (X-Men), Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:
Shiro leans against the fridge and contemplates getting another glass of water. He wants to crawl back into bed, but one never knew when you’d come across another glass of clean water. Shiro shook his head. He really shouldn’t worry about these things. He wasn’t back there anymore.
Shiro struggles with the aftermath of Genosha.
Chapter two, out now!!!
Even Though I'm Different
"I thought maybe you could love me like you used to, even though I'm different, but you changed too." - Jinx, Arcane League of Legends
It was a sad day.
Droplets of rain drizzled onto the back yard, the sky was a miserable shade of grey, and the cold wind blew through their paper thin jackets with ease.
This was the day that Lionel Jefferies powers first emerged.
As gloomy as it was the weather was perfect in a sense. In movies, tv serials, and books it was always raining at a funeral.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, were are gathered here today to remember the life of our beloved hamster, Cain.” Lionel presided over the shoe box casket, desperately trying to think of things to say.
He remembered, vaguely, the words spoken at their Great-Aunt Alice’s funeral last summer. The solemn look of the Reverend's face, as he stood over the closed casket. How the reverend waved his Bible telling the mourners that they shouldn’t mourn Great-Aunt Alice’s passing. That she had gone home to the Kingdom of God, to live out the rest of eternity alongside Jesus and God.
Lionel bit his tongue. He didn’t think those words were things Madison wanted to hear at that moment.
Despite the fact that he was trying desperately to hide, it Lionel could tell that his typically calm, strong, and stoic, older brother, was crying.
Not that he was doing a very good job at it, even with his face scrunched up, hidden behind the bright orange shade of his windbreaker, Lionel could see the tears dripping down Madison’s face.
Cain had been Madison’s pet. Ma and Dad had gotten it for him when he was ten, after Madison had asked for a dog. They claimed that if he could keep a hamster alive for six months they’d consider it.
Madison had been up to the task. He took great care into feeding, cleaning, and watering the hamster. He had been hesitant to even let Lionel hold him at first.
“You have to be gentle.” Madison instructed then then seven year old Lionel. “You can’t squeeze him.”
Lionel nodded as Madison set the hamster, which he had named Cain, gently onto his palm.
“You pet him like this.” Madison took his pointer and his middle finger and rubbed them smoothly against Cain’s back.
“He’s purring, Madi.” Lionel giggled as the hamster shook in his hand.
“Technically he’s bruxing.” Madison corrected. “And don’t call me Madi.”
Lionel shrugged and followed his brother’s instructions, only for Madison to snatch Cain up after three strokes.
“That’s enough.” He declared and gently set the hamster back in his cage.
Lionel pressed his face against the cool metallic bars of Cain’s home, trying to get a better look at his brother’s new pet.
To the Jefferies parents surprise (and great relief), but the time Madison had turned eleven he had changed his mind on getting a dog. He didn’t want Cain to get jealous.
Even without the reward of a puppy, Madison still took good care of Cain. His cage was cleaned regularly, he was fed each and every day, his water was changed regularly. He loved him dearly.
Which was what made it all the more heartbreaking when Cain passed away.
“He was almost three years old, baby.” Ma stroke Madison’s hair. He had come down stairs crying after waking up to find Cain dead in his cage. “That’s really old for a hamster.”
“Quit whining.” Dad barked. “I don’t want the neighbors to think I’m raising sissies.”
Lionel was the one that suggested they hold a funeral. He thought the chance to say goodbye would make Madison feel better. However, based on the tears that ran down his brother’s face, it wasn’t doing much good.
It was strange watching Madison cry. Madison could grab things off of top shelves, he was in middle school and had a sort of girlfriend, Ma let him stay up until nine thirty. In Lionel’s nine year old eyes he was the epitome of cool.
However, watching Madison mourn the death of his hamster. His face bright pink, eyes red from dark tears, his nose runny from sniffling, Lionel could only find his brother to be sad.
He wished Madison didn’t feel that way. He wished Cain hadn’t died. That instead when Madison woke up he found his hamster running on the wheel like the day before.
When Lionel Jefferies attended the funeral of the great-aunt he had never met, he didn’t really understand death. Sure, it was sad that Great-Aunt Alice had died, but that sadness was only an abstract concept.
As Lionel Jefferies presided over the funeral of his brother’s beloved hamster, the true cost of death struck him like a slap to the face.
Death wasn’t sad because of the people who died.
Death was sad because of the people who had been left behind.
Lionel’s body froze in horror as he felt the sickly strange realization crawl over him.
Everyone he loved would die.
One day his parents would die.
One day his brother would die.
His aunts, his uncles, his cousins, The mailman, his teachers, Mrs. O’Leary across the street. All of those people were going to die one day.
Leaving Lionel behind.
He carefully lifted the lid of the shoebox. He placed his fingers over Cain’s sad, cold, corpse. He took his pointer and middle fingers and pressed them together, then he began to stroke Cain’s fur. It wasn’t the same. It could never be the same.
Lionel’s voice stuttered as he tried to continue Cain’s funeral, trying to distract himself from this twisted thought, trying to outrun the promise of the inevitable.
“Cain…. Cain, Cain was…he…he was…ugh!”
Lionel bent forward as he felt a sharp pain emerge from his stomach. The electric feeling ran up his nerves into his arms, hands, and shoulders. Electrifying his brain and running back around his body in an endless loop.
“Lionel!” Madison jumped up and wrapped his arms around his brother. “What’s going on!”
“I…I uh…I ah!” He was crying now. Sharp tears of pain dribbled out of his dark eyes, as Lionel struggled to stand up right.
“Ma!” Madison cried out.
Their mother couldn’t hear them. The boys were in the front yard, and she was likely in the kitchen, which was situated in the back of the house.
“I’m fine, Madi.” Lionel huffed. As quickly as the pain appeared it vanished.
“What happened?” Madison asked as he released his brother.
“Probably just a stomach ache.” Lionel shrugged. “Shall we get on with the funeral?”
“Yeah, let’s-HOLYSHIT!”
Madison’s eyes had dropped down to the shoebox casket, which had been knocked over in all the fuss. Positioned on his hind legs, staring up at them, was Cain.
Except unlike he had been when Lionel had placed him in the shoebox an hour ago, Cain wasn’t dead.
Cain was alive.
The hamster stared up at its owners, it’s dark eyes unblinking as it stared at them. It was undoubtedly Cain, but not as he was before.
Yes Cain was moving, but anyone could tell there was something off about him. As Lionel pressed his hands against the rodent, he was cold and weirdly still.
“Don’t touch it!” Madison barked, as he jerked Lionel back.
As soon as Lionel removed his hands from Cain’s body, the hamster fell down again. Slamming against the dirty ground, undeniably dead once again.
Madison took a step back. “What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t know.” Lionel stared down at his hands which were shaking heavily.
He could still feel Cain’s cold still body pressed against his hand. Except Lionel had felt more than just Cain’s figure. He couldn’t explain it, but it was almost like he could feel every detail of Cain’s body. His heart, his lungs, his blood. Lionel could feel every detail of the dead hamster’s body as it were his own.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” Madison leaned down and grabbed Lionel’s shoulders. “We can never tell anyone about this.”
Lionel nodded. “It’s not like anyone would believe us if we did.”
“Exactly, they’d think were crazy.” Madison quickly scooped Cain and gently placed him in the shoebox. “C’mon let’s burry this sucker.”
It was a rough day.
Large piles of slushy snow had fallen to the ground the previous night, the sky was a dark stony grey, and the sharp wind tore through their thick jacket with ease.
This was the day Madison Jefferies powers first emerged.
Despite the amount of snow that had fallen the night before, school had not been cancelled, and Dad had been unable to give them a ride.
“Quit being a bitch.” He snapped as he huddled into the warmth of his truck. “When I was your age, I didn’t have to walk to school. I had to walk to work. Ten miles back and forth, in conditions much worse than this.”
Madison also had to walk Lionel to school. The elementary school was four blocks away from his junior high, but the snow made the streets difficult to navigate. Madison slipped on an ice patch, the frozen concreted broke his skin as he landed.
He was twelve minutes late and was scolded by his homeroom teacher who gave little care to blood seeping out of Madison’s palms nor the hole in his jeans.
It started to snow when he picked Lionel up from school that afternoon. The boys raced home, entering the house covered in thick sheets of snow, which seeped onto the kitchen floor.
“Careful I just moped that floor.” Ma crossed her arms. “Madison, I got a call from the school saying you were late for class this morning.”
“Ma, I’m sorry, there was a lot of snow and I-”
“You can save it for your father.” Ma told him.
Madison sighed.
It seemed like a small miracle when Mr. Jefferies returned home and was informed of his son’s misdemeanor, that he just shrugged and grumbled. “I’m too tired for this shit, just don’t do it again.” Then plopped down in front of the tv.
Madison gave a breath of relief as Ma tossed him and Lionel their meals and took a seat next to her husband’s chair.
This was a regular affair in the Jefferies household. Dad would come home, Ma would take four cheap tv dinner trays out of the oven and place them in front of her sons. Ma would adjust the channel, typically she would put on a game show. She and Dad grumbled at the players for being stupid, as the boys tried to finish their meals as quickly as possible.
Lionel had found a work around for this specific kind of torture their parents put them through. He’d place a book on his lap and carefully pluck the food off of his tray so it wouldn’t fall onto the pages.
Lionel, to be frank, was a complete and total nerd. Sorry, it was just the truth. What kind of elementary schooler checked out medical text books from the adult section of the library?
Ma and Dad didn’t see too much wrong with Lionel’s reading. In Ma’s mind that meant he might become a doctor someday and make some money for the family. Dad seemed to think that too, but he did voice displeasure that his soon spent too much time in doors.
At the sound of the crinkling pages Dad glanced over at Lionel, who was absorbed in a page about lungs. He gave sharp sigh before loudly pushing away his tv tray, nearly knocking it over, if it weren’t for Ma who grabbed it before it could fall over.
Dad marched over to the chair Lionel was sitting in and yanked it out of his hands.
“Hey!” Lionel cried.
Ma and Madison jerked their heads over to the scene.
Dad stared over at Lionel, eyes boring down at him in anger. “Are you in this family?”
Lionel didn’t answer, instead he stared up at his father eyes wide with confusion.
“Hello?” Dad asked. “I asked you a question. Are you in this family?”
Lionel still didn’t answer.
“When I ask you a question you answer it!” He snatched up Lionel’s book, a yelp came from the small child underneath it. “I asked you a question, are you in this family? Yes or no?”
“Yes?” Lionel squeaked.
Dad growled bringing down the heavy medical text book, it’s sharp cover whacking Lionel right in the face.
“Dad!” Madison cried out.
“You stay out of this!” Dad roared and turned his attention back on Lionel. “Dinner time is family time! I’m fed up with all this reading.” He tossed Lionel’s book across the room, it hit the side of the wall with a thump, causing Ma, Madison, and Lionel to startle. “Sit up and watch the tv!”
Lionel gave a shaky breath, as Dad took his seat.
Madison’s ears burned as he listened to his brother’s stifled sobs, as he turned his attention back to the black and white figures on the tv.
Dad pushed Madison around all the time. Shouting at him to stop crying, slapping the back of his head when he made a mistake, punishing him by giving him harder chores. Madison always figured the reason for this was because he was the oldest. He was supposed to be the responsible one. The example for Lionel so that he knew what a man was and to form himself into that image.
Now that Dad had taken out his anger on Lionel, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. He watched as the older man heckled the contestants on tv, Ma whispering for him to keep it down. “Shut up!” He snapped.
That old man didn’t give a damn about anyone. Not his sons, not his wife, not even the characters on his beloved tv.
And it was all so unfair.
As he stared at the tv, his vision blurred, tears prickled Madison’s eyes, dripped down his face.
These weren’t the tears of sadness that his father regularly scolded out of him.
These were tears of rage.
It came on suddenly the electric pain that stabbed his stomach that Madison couldn’t do anything but cry out before he doubled over. The pain traveled up his stomach, shooting up his arms, his shoulders, electrocuting his head, as it doubled around him.
His hears fuzzed as his parents glared over at him.
“Madison is everything okay?”
“Don’t you start too?”
“Madi!”
“AH!” Madison screamed.
His brain felt like it was on fire, a magnetic pulse connecting Madison to the tv. He could feel every inch of it as if it were his own body. Each wire burning hot in his veins, his memories the channels playing on the screen, his ears filled with the noise from the speakers.
He wanted it to stop.
The tv burned brightly, sparks shooting out, as the screen blasted off. Glass covering the whole living room. Shards dazzling against the carpet, landing into the chairs, nailing themselves into Ma’s legs.
Ma let out a scream, jumping upwards as blood pooled down her stockings.
Mr. Jefferies pushed past his wife and grabbed Madison by the shirt, hoisting the boy up, so he was face to face with his father’s snarl. “What did you do?”
Madison huffed. “I don’t-I don’t-”
“What the fuck did you just do!”
“Dad…Ma…please…I have no idea!”
Madison soon found himself tossed on the other side of the room. His elbow knocking against Lionel’s book.
“Get in the car!” He shouted, snatching Lionel’s elbow and shoving him towards the door. “Get in the car both of you. Now!”
“Lionel can you tell me something?”
Dr. Addison was a clean woman with dark hair, who wore a pair of dark glasses over her blue eyes. Her warm smile, which hadn’t faltered since Lionel entered her office, made him feel safe.
He nodded.
“Have you ever felt strange?”
Lionel bit his lip not understanding the question. “Strange how?”
“You know like there some kind of force in your body, trying to crawl its way out.”
“When I was sick last summer I threw up everywhere.” Lionel shrugged.
Dr. Addison laughed. “Not like that, no.” She shook her head. “Has anything ever happened around you that you couldn’t explain? Do you hear others thoughts? Have you cut yourself and suddenly it was healed? Have you ever moved so fast that you were at home and next you were in another city?”
“Are you asking if I’m like Madi?” Lionel asked.
He knew what had happened at dinner a few hours ago wasn’t normal. No one could blow up a tv just by looking at it. That’s why while Ma was getting the glass pulled out of her legs, Madison and Lionel had been taken by the doctors to separate rooms. After hearing Dad’s story, the doctors had “taken an interest” in them.
“Yes.” Dr. Addison sighed. “I’m not supposed to tell you this Lionel, but my colleague, Dr. Blake, found something interesting about your brother.”
“Does it have to do with the tv blowing up?”
Dr. Addison nodded. “We have reason to believe that your brother has a mutation in his genes.”
Lionel’s eyes widened. “Like cystic fibrosis?”
Dr. Addison let out a small gasp. “Yes, that’s very bright of you.”
“Is Madi going to be okay?” Lionel squeaked.
If Madison’s mutation was anything like cystic fibrosis, it meant he wouldn’t have long to live. It meant by the time Lionel was thirty, Madison would be dead.
“Madison’s going to be just fine.” Dr. Addison assured him.
“But you said he had a mutation.”
“Not all mutations are bad.” Dr. Addison explained. “For example, I have a mutation in my genes which affects my eyes.” She gestured to her glasses. “Madison has a mutation which means he can control inorganic materials.”
“And you want to know if I can do that?” Lionel said.
Dr. Addison nodded. “In recent studies, we found that biological family members with Madison’s kind of mutation tend to have similar powers. I want to know if that’s the case with you.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now, Lionel, can you tell me if anything strange has happened to you?”
Lionel nodded. “Well, a few months ago…”
He told Dr. Addison about Cain. How all Lionel had to do was touch him and the rodent was alive.
“Madi pulled me off of him.” Lionel said. “He was scared Cain would hurt me.”
“And after your released Cain?”
“He died.” Lionel whispered sadly. “Again.”
Dr. Addison wrote something down on a piece of paper. “Lionel?” She asked. “Do you think you could try something for me?”
Lionel nodded. “Okay.”
Dr. Addison reached out her hand towards him. “I want you to take my hand and tell me if you can feel anything, okay?”
Lionel nodded and took Dr. Addison’s pale hand in his own.
It was like a bolt of lightning. Lionel could feel every nerve of Dr. Addison’s body, the way she tried to still the heavy beats of her heart, her pulse felt like his own.
“Does this hurt?” Dr. Addison asked.
“No.” Lionel shook his head. “Not like last time. It just feels strange.”
Lionel could feel every part of Dr. Addison. Not just her organs but the molecules that made up the very pulse of her existence. It was like plunging his hand into water, ripples spreading across her very being.
Dr. Addison let out a sharp gaps and released Lionel.
“My eyes…” She blinked as she removed her glasses. “I can…I can see…perfectly.”
Dr. Adison sat in shock for a moment before picking up her pen and recording her findings. “Lionel,” She stated. “I think we might have to keep you overnight.”
Technokinesis.
That’s what they told him he had.
Technokinesis.
The word itself sounded like a disease.
The hospital kept Madison and Lionel for three days. Even after Ma’s legs were stitched up they weren’t allowed to leave.
“We want to run some more tests.” The doctor stated. “Just to be sure.”
Madison spent the next three days in a white, overly air conditioned room, with nothing to do but act as the doctors told him to.
They brought him toys.
Remote controlled helicopters, walkie talkies, dolls with voice boxes tucked inside their tummies.
They told him to take them apart.
Madison would sit on one side of the room, about five feet away from the toys which sat on the table. His arms crossed as he stared angrily at the objects in front of him.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Dr. Blake would state from his place by the door.
A good place to run out, in case Madison’s powers went haywire or he decided to kill him.
Dr. Blake had a low opinion of mutants telling Madison when he diagnosed him:
“I believe you possess technokinesis. Telepathy isn’t uncommon for those with your disorder.”
“Is there a cure?” Madison asked.
Dr. Blake shook his head. “No, unfortunately there isn’t. Our findings one the X-Gene are too new for us to start developing a cure.”
Mutation, all it took was one slight error in their genes to ruin him and Lionel for life.
Madison stared at the toys angrily. It felt as if they were mocking him, urging him to use his powers. Break me, unmake me, destroy me.
It wasn’t fair. He and Lionel hadn’t done anything to deserve this. They had been reasonably good kids, decent grades, reasonably polite to their parents (not that Dad made it easy).
What had Madison done to deserve this mutation?
This disorder?
This curse?
This fate?
As it had happened with the television set, Madison could feel his mind merging with the toys. Their electrical fragments setting his mind and body aflame. He screamed as he tore them apart, reducing them to shards which flew over the room.
The helicopter’s propellor spun straight towards Dr. Blake. The psychiatrist used his clipboard to shield himself. The blade knocked into the wood with a loud thwack.
“I think we’re done for today.” He squeaked before rushing out the door.
Madison and Lionel were discharged the next day. Dad came to pick them up, his grunts sounding as loud as the roar of his truck.
“Not a word about this too anyone, understand?” He ordered as the door closed.
“Yes, sir.” Lionel and Madison answered.
“I mean it,” He continued. “If I catch a single hint of either of you twos using your powers, your dead. Got it?”
Madison nodded, while Lionel let out a whine.
“But Dad…”
“Not another word!”
When the boys returned home, they found their mother in the kitchen making dinner, a new tv had been set up in the living room, the glass from Monday’s incident cleaned up.
They never spoke of that day again.
Despite their father’s warning to never speak or make use of their powers again, Lionel couldn’t help himself.
He abstained from it for weeks after the initial diagnosis. He tried hard to ignore the loud sound of his family’s beating hearts. The electric spark of his math teacher’s neurons as he struggled to teach a room of bored fifth grades fractions. Lionel’s body fizzled with power whenever his father lit a cigarette. It was as if his Dad’s lungs were begging him to relieve them from their misery.
He tried to be good.
He tried so hard to be like Madison, who didn’t seem bothered by the rev of the car’s engine, the blinking of their bedroom lights, nor the static of the radio.
It all came to ahead when Lionel’s mother burned her hand.
It was a rainy Spring afternoon, Dad was at work, Madison was at school, and Lionel was home with a cold.
He knew that the ache in his stomach, the pounding cough in his throat, and the snot snuffed up in his nose could easily be fixed, but Lionel didn’t dare think what his father would do if he came home to find his sickly son healthy as a horse.
Lionel came downstairs to get a glass of water, as Ma boiled soup on the stove.
“This’ll make you feel better honey.” She promised, as she picked the pan off the stove. “Just give me a moment-ah!”
Ma tripped as she carried the pot over to the table, the soup washed over her hand in a magnificent warm wave. She cried out as she rushed it over to the sink.
“Ma!” Lionel raced over to her, his eyes bulging at the scene before him.
Ma’s hand was swollen large, her pale skin blistering red, Lionel could swear he could see her veins.
“Ma, are you alright?” Lionel asked.
Ma let out a whimper as she stared at her shaking hand. She adverted them quickly once she realized the severity of the damage.
Lionel knew what his father would want him to do. Grab the phone, call a hospital, then call him so he could meet them there.
Lionel also knew that even if the doctors could help Ma, it still take several months for a burn that severe to heal completely. She’d struggled to hold things, cook, clean, drive. Things that came so easily before would be a struggle.
So, Lionel did what he knew he should do, he grabbed Ma’s hand, and focused hard.
He could feel every inch of his mother’s body. The scabs on her legs that were still healing, the scar she gained during his birth, and the burning flame that was her hand.
Lionel could feel the tissue, burned and scared, as if it were his own. He gripped onto it tightly.
Ma let out a gasp as her hand’s swelling went down, returning to its pale color, skin growing back quickly, as it reshaped itself into its healthier form.
Lionel released her as the final nail settled into place. Ma stared at her hand in wonder, gently flexing her fingers, and turning her wrist.
She gave Lionel a quick glance. “Don’t ever tell your father about this.”
Lionel smiled.
Madison tried very hard not to think about his powers.
It wasn’t working out as well as he had hoped.
He hated taking car rides, every time Dad started the ignition all Madison could think about was the spark of the engine, the clanking of the gears, and the fumes that roared through his body. He started walking everywhere just to avoid it.
After his diagnosis life’s simple pleasures faded away fast. He couldn’t listen to the radio anymore without his body being overcome by static. He ate dinner in his room, unable to look at the tv after what he’d done.
This went on for years.
Madison’s friends complained about how he wouldn’t go to the movies anymore. How he lost his almost girlfriend because he couldn’t use the phone anymore. In a fit of anger, he tossed Lionel’s portable radio into the wall because he couldn’t stand the static.
This continued until Madison moved out and got an apartment of his own. The crummy, moldy, roach infested, room was entirely technology free. He kept the lights off, never used the ac/or the heater, and ate food straight out of the can without heating it up.
This wasn’t a life.
This wasn’t a life it was a prison.
Eating cold beans for breakfast, refusing to get his driver’s license, living in the dark.
This was hell.
Madison didn’t know how long he could stand it.
Everything changed when he was walking to his job as a janitor for a nearby hospital.
Lionel had gotten him the job. He was on his third year of surgical residency and had pulled strings for Madison to work night shifts.
Madison stuck to the lower levels, trying to avoid the upper areas of the hospitals. Especially radiology, where the x-ray machines hummed and hawed at him.
Lionel didn’t need that kind of trouble.
Especially considering he wasn’t bothering to hide his mutant powers at all.
Lionel had graduated med-school, top of his class, full honors. Madison had cheered loudly for him as he walked down the stage.
Lionel had always been a smart kid, everyone always said he would go places.
However, once Madison had started working along Lionel he realized it wasn’t Lionel’s brains that had gotten him through med school.
A woman had come in large cut on her arm, spewing blood everywhere. Naturally Madison had been called to clean it up.
As he tried to scrub the red stains off the white tile, Lionel, and a bunch of other doctors were trying to calm their patient.
Lionel touched her wounded arm.
And just liked that the bleeding stopped.
Later that day Madison confronted him about it.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He hissed.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lionel told him. “You can’t be using your powers in public.” Madison groaned.
Lionel rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on Madi, you can’t tell me you don’t use your powers when the occasion arises?”
Madison’s cast his eyes down on the floor and Lionel’s mouth opened slightly.
“Oh.” He said. “Really, you never…”
“Not since we left the hospital.” Madison said. “Apparently the common sense gene only passed down to one of us.”
Madison had tried several times to explain to Madison that what he was doing was dangerous. With the rise of people getting diagnosed with x-gene, came a rise in concerned humans wondering what this would mean for them.
Some people took these concerns to violent lengths.
Lionel didn’t seem to care about that. He claimed he was helping people, when all he was really doing was causing trouble.
Madison groaned as he trekked through the snow. He wished he could take a bus.
“Hey, hey, hey, kid, you there!”
Madison jerked his head.
On the other side of the road was an older man wrapped, standing outside of a car was waving him down.
Madison glanced for any upcoming cars, before dashing towards the other side of the road.
“Hey, pal, what’s going on?” He asked.
“My car broke down.” The man shivered underneath his dark coat. “I’ve been stranded her for the past twenty minutes and no one, but you has come by.”
“Makes sense.” Madison typically took this road due to its lack of cars. “Look, pal, I don’t know what you want me to do, when I get to my job I can call somebody and send them out here.”
“Not much use to me if your going to walk down there.” The man sighed. “I’m already late of my meeting and my boss is going to have my head if I’m not there on time.”
Madison glanced at the man and then back at his car. He gave an internal groan.
This was such a bad idea.
“Let me see what I can do.” He made his way over to the car and popped open the hood.
Madison had spent many afternoons as a boy in the company of his father watching as his dad explained to him the many wonders of the automobile. How to change a tire, replace a spark plug, and all that good stuff.
With his powers though, there was no need for any prior knowledge.
Madison set his hand on the car’s cold engine, slowly but surely he could feel the machine, as if were his own body, Madison concentrated his energy, and he could hear it hum.
“Try starting it again.” Madison instructed.
The stranded man, leaned into the drivers side and twisted the keys.
The car roared to life.
“Yes!” He cried and turned to Madison. “What did you do?”
“Nothing much.” Madison shrugged.
“Well, c’mon, we’ve got to get going.” He jumped inside. “We?” Madison asked.
“What you think I’m going to let the man who just saved my ass walk to work.” The man shook his head. “C’mon…”
“That’s really not necessary.” Madison started.
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
Madison got in, relieved at the warm air that blasted his face as he took a seat. He gave the man instructions to the hospital and off they went.
As the drove the man introduced himself as Lieutenant Joshua Strand, US Army.
“I just got back from ‘Nam last week.” Strand sighed. “I spend two years in that dammed jungle and next they tell me to haul ass up north.”
“I imagine you don’t get too much snow down there.”
“No, one nice thing about it.” Strand glanced at Madison. “You know we could use some men like you on the front.”
Madison scoffed. “Really?”
“Hey if you could fix my rental in less than thirteen seconds, I’d love to see what you could do with a hummer.” Strand said. “Seriously, you should join.”
“You want me to join the United States Army?” Madison said. “Lieutenant Strand, I don’t know if you noticed by I’m Canadian.”
“It’s fine.” Strand explained. “The US Army accepts men from all over the world.”
Strand pulled up to the hospital and Madison opened the door. “Seriously, you should think about it.”
“Okay.” Madison told him thinking that be the end of it.
Except Strand’s offer rattled around Madison’s head for the rest of the night.
Vietnam, the jungle, a chance to get away from the city and all the noisy machines that plagued Madison day and night.
How could he pass up an opportunity?
He pitched his idea to Lionel later that night.
“Vietnam, are you insane?” Lionel stared at him. “Do you have any idea how many people are dying over there?”
“It be good for me.” Madison answered. “Give me a chance to see the world.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Lionel spat. “Jesus, Madi…”
“Don’t call me Madi.”
“You really hate being a mutant that much don’t you?”
“Don’t say.” That Madison glanced around the hospital cafeteria looking to see if anyone heard Lionel.
“Ugh, when do you start?”
“I haven’t signed up yet.” Madison explained. “Figured I’d run the idea by you first.”
“Great,” Lionel said. “Tomorrow we’ll call the US recruitment office.”
“We’ll?”
“What you think I’m letting you go alone?” Lionel shook his head. “Someone’s gotta stich you back up when you get shot.”
“You’re coming with me?” Madison asked.
“Of course.” Lionel shrugged. “You’re always looking out for me, about time I returned the favor.”
“Thanks.” Madison wrapped his arm around Lionel’s shoulder.
“Anything for you Madi.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
Vietnam wasn’t as bad as Lionel thought it was going to be.
Sure, it was hotter than hell, humidity would’ve fried his hair had it not been shaved clean off, and the mosquitoes were digging into him like a five course meal.
Really it could’ve been worse.
He could be there all alone.
Everyone said he was nuts when he joined Madison on the front.
His teachers, his bosses, his parents.
“Madison’s going because he can’t make a living here.” Dad explained. “You’ve got no reason to.”
That’s what Dad didn’t’ get. Madison was his reason.
When Madison first pitched the idea of joining the US Army, Lionel was ready to lock him in the hospital broom closet and not let him out until the war was over.
If Madison brought up the idea to Lionel, that typically meant he already made up his mind, and there was nothing anyone could do to change it.
Not even Lionel.
The army was happy to have a surgeon enlist.
“We could use more trained hands out there.” Lieutenant Strand slapped Lionel on the back.
“Well, I’ve got the best hands in the business.” Lionel told him.
Lionel didn’t think he’d ever seen so many bloodied, broken, bruised, patients than he had in Vietnam.
Teenage boys with their legs blown off, fingers missing, faces distorted.
There was only so much Lionel’s powers could do. He had promised Madison he would try to keep it on the down low, but he couldn’t just let this people go through their lives like this.
When he thought he’d seen the worse, the medics would bring in a civilian caught in the crossfires.
Old men with mangled feet, mothers dying of exhaustion, small skinny children begging for a scrap of food.
Lionel tried to fix them up the best he could.
But even with his biokinetic abilities, there were just some things his powers couldn’t fix.
Even when he restored a little girl’s broken arm, a father’s eyes miraculously healed, a mother’s breast squirting milk to feed to a baby, Lionel knew that there were some things his awesome power couldn’t fix.
Such as the dead.
People died all the time in Vietnam.
Surgeries didn’t go as planned, they didn’t have the right equipment, patients died enroute.
Some many sick and dying and only one Lionel.
It wasn’t fair.
Lionel didn’t spend all his time in the hospital, often he was sent on routine missions with the rest of the boys.
Sometimes he was paired with Madison.
Madison was doing well for himself, having recently been promoted to private first class. His mechanical skills were the envy of his team. Unlike Lionel he this wasn’t just raw natural talent.
“I don’t see why you don’t use your powers.” Lionel told him.
“Tell me Lionel,” Madison huffed. “Do you actually know how to use a scalpel?”
“What?” Lionel asked.
“I know how to change a tire, rewire an engine, and change the oil?” Madison told him. “Can you use a scalpel Lionel, can you make an incision? Can you do anything your job requires of you without your powers?”
“Yes, I can.” Lionel hissed. “And even if I did use my powers during surgery, so what? At least I use my powers to help people, unlike you, you hoard them to yourself.”
“I don’t hoard them, Lionel.” Madison snapped. “I elect not to use them.”
“Why?” Lionel asked.
“What?”
“Why won’t you use your powers?” Lionel asked. “Why can’t you see that dad was wrong about us our gifts…”
“These aren’t gifts, Lionel, their disorders.” Madison argued. “As a medical professional I think you’d ought to be aware of that.”
“They aren’t disorders.” Lionel huffed. “That’s just something humanity…”
“You know I think humanity would like our kind a lot better if we weren’t shoving this in their faces all the time.”
“Are you seriously siding with them?”
“I don’t know Lionel, I think if I were them I’d also wouldn’t be able to stand us.”
Lionel wanted to say something.
He wanted to tell Madison that he was wrong.
He wanted to tell him that there was nothing wrong with them.
That humanity made up the myth of the mutant menace to silence them, to keep them from using their powers to their full potential.
That their powers were gifts, powers that could be used to help and better humanity.
That his powers could better humanity.
And so could Madison’s if he ever bothered to use them.
He couldn’t because before Lionel could even get the words out their was a
WABOOM!
And the world was on fire.
Lionel fell on to his stomach onto the wet grass. He pulled himself up and glanced around in horror.
Surrounding him where the dead bodies of the entire troop.
Except they didn’t look like corpses.
They looked like mush.
Red, bloodied, chunk of meat stashed everywhere.
As Lionel moved forward all he could see were bits of toes, legs, and what might have been somebody’s nose.
“Madi?” He gasped aloud.
No one answered.
Lionel let out a loud whimper as he glanced around the field of fire and flesh.
No, no, no, not Madi.
Not his brother.
They couldn’t take him away from him.
They couldn’t.
Lionel could feel his insides heat up as if they were on fire. Bile rushed in the back of his throat. His heart beating fast with each and every sloppy step. The same set of words wobbled in his head.
It…wasn’t…fair.
It
wasn’t
fair.
ITWASN’TFAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lionel let out a primal scream as energy coursed through his viens.
The men, their wives, their girlfriends, their mothers, their sisters, their brothers, their fathers, their friends, were all going to feel like he did when the telegrams came in the mail informing them that the person they loved was dead.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t right.
No one deserved that.
Lionel glanced around. Watching as the small flakes of skin, bone, and blood, squirmed around the field as he flicked his fingers.
He stoop up slowly.
No one was going to feel this way again.
Not if he could help it.
Madison let out a low moan as the world slowly came into focus around him.
Everything smelled like gasoline.
Sniff.
Gasoline and burning flesh.
Madison groaned as he struggled to move, his head knocked against something hard and metal.
As he attempted to pull his arms free he realized what had happened.
He was pinned underneath one of the trucks.
Although it didn’t resemble much of truck now, just a smoldering hunk of burnt metal.
Madison glanced around, the only witnesses he could see were the eyes of dead soldiers. Their bodies cut with hunks of metal, set ablaze, and bloodied.
Madison tried to ignore them as he wriggled his fingers.
He didn’t have much practice at this. As intuitive as it could feel he struggled to lift the Jeep off of himself.
Slowly but surly the large clank of metal moved. Creeping off of him with a loud clank.
Madison groaned and struggled to get to his feet.
He was as much of a wreck as the Jeep. His uniform reeked of gasoline, his arms and face covered in red scratches, his shoulder ached as if he had just been carrying a boulder.
As he stumbled forward, Madison glanced at the dead piled around him.
No one looked like a person. Their bodies weren’t bodies, just random bits of smashed hands, blown off noses, charred torsos. The blast had chiseled their humanity away from them, they were nothing more than meat.
A single thought raced through Madison’s brain as he struggled to identify his fallen comrades.
Lionel where was Lionel.
“Lionel!” Madison screamed. “Lionel!”
Madison raced forward, tripping over his boots as he did so. He glanced around the fiery wilderness, trying to spot even a hint of his brother.
“Lionel!” Madison coughed as he continued to shout, jerking his head wildly. “For fuck’s sake say something!”
No one called back, all Madison could hear was the roaring of the flames as they munched on the greenery chasing away the jungle’s natural predators.
Madison let out a choked sob.
Lionel was dead.
And it was all his fault.
If he didn’t bring up his decision to join the army, Lionel would’ve never come with him. He should’ve just gone down to the states and called his family moments before he had to get on the plane.
Lionel would’ve been angry with him but at least he’d be alive.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
Madison spun around.
It was too dark to see anything, but he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching him. Madison’s heart soared. He wasn’t the only survivor.
He peered into the darkness. “Lionel?”
A figured emerged.
It wasn’t Lionel.
“AHHHH!”
Madison screamed stumbling backwards at the side of it. The creature rocked forward, it was skinny and tall. It’s skin looked like flecks of paint, several different shades stuck together like a patchwork quilt. The only thing covering it’s nakedness were scraps of green cloth that were stitched into its skin as if whatever had reformed it couldn’t tell the difference between flesh and fabric.
Whatever it was it was human.
Or at least it had been.
The sound of more footsteps approached Madison, he spun around, similar deformed monsters charged at him on either side.
Madison let out another scream, he reached for his gun only to realize it had been lost in the chaos.
He panted as the creatures closed in on him.
He was going crazy. He had to be. There was no way this was real.
The beasts soon surrounded him but came to a stop when the got within a yard of him. Madison gasped as he stared at their dead eyes.
He was definitely going in sane.
“Madi!”
Out of the darkness emerged Lionel. To Madison’s great relief he was in one piece. The only thing out of place about him was the dirt on his uniform.
“Lionel!” Madison gasped. “What’s going on?”
“Madi, we were in an explosion.” Lionel’s voice uncomfortably calm. “But don’t worry, everything’s okay now.”
Madison stared at the creatures that surrounded him. “You call this okay?”
“Can’t you see?” Lionel gestured to the men that lined the forest. “They were dead, but I fixed them. It’s okay now.”
Madison glanced at the corpses and back at Lionel.
Maybe he wasn’t the one that was going insane.
“Lionel…” Madison started. “This…isn’t…this isn’t right.”
Lionel frowned. “Are you seriously upset that I used my powers?”
“Lionel…”
“If you’re worried about what the army will say, I wouldn’t.” Lionel cried out. “I saved them. How could anyone be angry about that?”
“Lionel, they’re dead.” Madison said. “They’re dead, they’re gone, look at their eyes, they’re not coming back.”
Lionel barred his teeth.
“They’re fine!” He growled. “I brought them back, they’re safe now!”
“No, Lionel.” Madison shook his head. “No, they’re not.”
Lionel let out a primal shriek, he charged to his brother fists raised.
Madison raised his hand.
The metal from the wrecked Jeeps and guns moved through the air at light speed, they wrapped around Lionel, gripping his arms to his sides, as he struggled to break free.
“Let me go!” Lionel screamed. “Madi, put me down!”
“I can’t!” Madison cried, he gritted his teeth as he tried to keep the makeshift restraints from unraveling.
The helicopters and ambulances came it quick succession. A soldier pointed his gun at Madison.
“Release him!” He shouted.
Madison startled at the sound of the gun’s clock, slowly he set Lionel down.
Lionel was loaded in an ambulance, Madison handcuffed and quickly escorted to a cell on base.
He spent three days in a cell before being sent to court. The prosecutors made swift work of his case.
Within an hour Madison was dishonorably discharged from the army.
Reasoning: Failure to Maintain Physical Standards.
What a load of bull.
The worst part of Lionel's imprisonment had to be the nonstop boredom.
At least for those incarcerated in actual prison, as monotonous as it could be, there were some things to do.
They could use the gym, walk around outside feeling the spray of sunshine against their faces (or the rain Lionel would take either at this point), or they could read from their tiny libraries.
Lionel wasn’t even allowed the simple pleasure of meals to break the repetitive structure of his day. All of his food and water was delivered to him from the machine that hooked to the back of his uniform. A forest green monstrosity that kept his hands tied together, and weighed him down, keeping him chained to the floor.
Montreal General Hospital was hell on Earth.
The patients, the tortured souls, the doctors, their demons, and Lionel’s own brother acting in the role of God by banishing him there.
If he ever saw Madison again Lionel was going to kill him.
Madison’s eternal torment would be more pleasant than his.
Madison liked to think he made good decisions.
He knew that wasn’t true.
As he watched as Department H hustled and bustled, dragging Alpha Flight’s belongings into their new home, Madison wondered why he agreed to this in the first place.
He wasn’t even technically a member of the team. He had been part of Beta Flight before Jerome Jaxon stuck his claws into them. He offered Madison a spot on Omega Flight, but he had been quick to turn it down, Lil on the other hand had not. Rushing towards anything that would make her a superhero again.
Madison never cared much for the idea of being a superhero. Sure, Hudson had made a good pitch when he first recruited him, but the novelty quickly wore off. With the low pay, endless hours of training, and erratic work schedules Madison had only stuck around for Lil.
Getting involved with her was also not the brightest decision.
“Isn’t this exciting?”
Madison glanced down at the man next to him.
Rodger Bochs, A.K.A. Box rolled his wheelchair down Mansion Alpha’s luxurious halls.
Madison was going to answer, when there was a loud crash. He and Box turned their heads to see two Department H goons standing around a box of spilled machine parts.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Madison marched over to the men, fist balled.
Christ, he was already starting to regret this.
“Can either of you idiots read, that box was marked fragile!" He outstretched his hand.
The silvery parts spun up from the floor, as Madison did the careful work of putting them back together. Intuitive as it always was, soon the machine was reassembled.
From behind him Rodger smiled. “Glad now that I asked Mr. Jefferies to stay as our resident machine smith, Miss Hudson?”
Madison jerked around to see Heather McNeil Hudson standing next to Rodger.
“I’m more than impressed each time he uses his powers, Rodger.” Heather beamed.
Madison scoffed. Heather’s comment reminded him how new she was to the world of superheroes and their extraordinary abilities.
“Impressed? You should’ve seen what my kid brother could do.” Madison shook his head.
“You have a brother?” Heather asked.
Rodger also looked at Madison quizzically. Despite the two’s burgeoning friendship, they rarely talked about their families.
“Had.” Madison told them, hoping they’d drop it. “I had a brother.”
That statement was mostly true. The Lionel that Madison had grown up with was much different than who he was now.
Madison shook his head, trying to ignore Heather’s curious stares.
He didn’t want to think about Lionel right now. It had been almost a decade since Madison had him committed. Two since he visited. He had considered going more often but he kept being reminded of Lionel’s mad rambling the last time he visited. Doctors trying to poison him, claiming the nurses responsible for his self-harming scars, he hadn’t gotten a call from the hospital in a while, so he figured things were going well.
Lionel, as mad as he was, was an adult after all.
He didn’t need his big brother looking out for him all the time.
The sound of the door opening woke Lionel from his daze.
He didn’t really sleep anymore. Being trapped in the hospital’s dingy hovel the hours blurred together. The best way he could describe the intervals of darkness that overtook him were respites of sanity.
The door opened, Lionel half expected it to be a doctor, ready to jam another needle into his arm. Or a nurse ready to kick his ribs. However, the red headed woman standing before him did not resemble a nurse.
“H-Hello.” She stammered. “My name’s Heather Hudson.”
She must have been startled by the metal mask that wrapped around Lionel’s head, designed to keep him from biting anyone. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst part of his get up. If anything, it felt rather nice.
“I’m a friend of your brother’s, how do you do?”
Those were the words that pulled Lionel out of his post daze haze. A friend of Madison’s?
This was his chance.
Using all of his strength Lionel pulled himself off the floor and darted towards Heather Hudson. Moving with such force it yanked his tubes out of the wall.
Heather’s delicate fingers brushed the small exposure of his mask.
As her body morphed, Heather’s arm growing longer, jetting out her back with painful furry, she let out a harrowing scream.
All Lionel could do was smile.
He could complete his mission now. He could accomplish the task he was put on earth to do.
Then when that was all over, he would destroy Madison once and for all.
“Thank you, friend of my brother.” Lionel pushed past Heather as she fell to the floor. “Thank you for setting me free.”
Heather had to be one of if not the nosiest people Madison had ever met.
She went digging around his past, found out about Lionel tried to recruit him, and now Montreal General Hospital was in chaos. Staff and patients trying to outrun the abominations that his brother had created.
If Heather wasn’t in so much trouble already he would’ve lost it on her.
What the hell did she think would come of this?
In his anger Madison nearly missed the staircase and had to double back towards it.
He couldn’t focus on Heather now, he had to find Lionel. If he was doing what Madison thought he was, they were about to be in more trouble than they already were.
As Madison raced down the stairs a creature jumped out of the shadows.
Madison’s insides reeled at the sight of the man. His white skin had turned pale grey, his blonde hair had resembled patches of choppy fur, his nails had grown long and curved like fish hooks, Lionel’s powers had swelled his legs to the size of hams that in order to get around he had to crawl.
As the beastly patient clawed towards him, Madison kicked him sending the monstrous mutate scrambling back down the steps like a frightened dog.
This was what Lionel’s powers did to people. He screwed around with their bodies, twisting their insides, mangling up their minds in the process.
This was why Madison sent him away, why he had to be locked up, why Lionel couldn’t go near another human being ever again.
He was just too powerful.
Madison raced down the steps, reaching a steel door. He curled his fingers the metal crumpling from his might.
The familiar fuzzy feeling hummed in the back of Madison’s head. The further he walked the better he could feel Lionel. His muscles ached at the movements his brother made, as he shuffled the dead out of their refrigerated crypts, lining up on the table, ready to be brought back to life.
Madison flexed his fingers, bits of metal shifted off of phones, tables, and surgical tools, forming into a makeshift riffle. Scalpels and forceps morphed into bullets and slid into the crude chamber.
He really didn’t want to do this.
But he would if he had to.
Madison slowly made his way down the staircase, careful as he did in the jungles of Vietnam. Lionel was currently more dangerous than guerilla solider.
Once Madison reached the final step Lionel came into full view.
His brother wrapped in a green jumpsuit, that held great resemblance to their army uniforms, was on his knees. The bodies surrounding him withering and gripping as he channeled his energy toward them.
Madison cocked his gun.
“Hello Madison,” Lionel jerked his head. The only feature visible were his glowing red eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Madison didn’t say anything, he only aimed his weapon towards Lionel’s head.
“What no hug?” Lionel asked. “It’s been two years, Madison.”
He hadn’t changed that much since Lionel had last saw him. His brother was still the bulky, dark haired, brute Lionel had grown up with.
“I keep telling you to get a new barber.” Lionel giggled. “The bull cuts not doing you any favors.”
Madison narrowed his eyes at Lionel. He pressed his finger on the trigger, the improvised gun let out a click.
“Really Madison?” Lionel sneered. “You’re going to shoot your own brother?”
“We both knew I had to come Lionel.” Madison stated plainly.
“Yes…” Lionel’s voice wavered. “To lock me away again, to shut me up and prevent me from using my power to heal?”
Madison stared at him incredulously. “Heal? You made a mess out of everyone you touched, including a friend of mine.” Madison took a deep breath and aimed the gun’s barrel down towards the floor.
Lionel’s eyes drifted away from the gun and back to his brother. Madison wasn’t going to shoot him. Madison would never hurt him. He always had Lionel’s back. Sure, he left him at the hospital to rot, but maybe when he saw Lionel’s cell, the cell where he left Heather Hudson, he realized how bad it truly was. Maybe now Madison would take Lionel away to this place. Take him back home. They’d talk, Madison would apologize for how he had ignored and belittled Lionel. Once the dust settled everything would go back to normal.
They could be a family again.
“Now, why don’t you put your gloves on and let me take you back.”
Evey inch of sadness that Lionel had felt faded away, replaced by boiling hot anger.
Was Madison being serious?
After everything Lionel had told him, the bruises and scars he had shown Madison, he even saw the cell! He was going to take him back. Abandon him again, leave him to wither into nothingness.
“Take me back? To my cell?” Red hot tears brimmed Lionel’s eyes, he tried to blink them away. “Never!”
PWOOM!
In mere seconds Madison had his gun pointed at Lionel and fired. A blast of yellow light shuttered out of the gun, the bullet spiraled forward.
Lionel jerked his fingers one of the corpses popped up like a Jack-in-the-Box, the bullet pierced through its insides. In a splatter of blood and intestines it collapsed back onto the floor.
Lionel groaned, that one was going to take forever to put back together.
“You gotta be caged Lionel!” Madison repositioned the weapon. “I put you away once, and I guess I’ll have to do it again.”
“No!” Lionel gripped onto the autopsy table and gave it a forceful shove in Madison’s direction.
The table rammed into Madison’s stomach, knocking him into a bookshelf, sending files raining down on his head. The makeshift gun hit the floor with a clatter, sending it’s pieces scattering everywhere.
“You always resented your power Madison!” Lionel cried. “Always complaining about how it made us freaks, ruined our chance at normal lives. Claimed it was a curse!”
“Ugh!” Madison groaned as he pulled himself off the cold floor. Blood and bruises began to form on his face.
“I never saw it that way. I didn’t hid my powers, I used them to help people!” Lionel stormed over to him, the bodies of the dead stumbling upwards. The corpses taking uneasy steps as they followed him around. “You had me locked away. You couldn’t stand your crazy mutie brother embarrassing you like that!”
Madison’s eyes narrowed, his teeth gritted together furiously as he charged towards Lionel arms raised.
Lionel’s brother slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground. Lionel let out a groan as his head bashed against the helmet.
“Lionel, your my brother,” Madison grabbed Lionel’s wrists, as his brother scratched and kicked at him. “And I hate these powers that have kept us a part.”
“You’re the one that’s kept us a part!” Lionel screeched he kicked Madison in the stomach causing the stronger brother to release his grasp on his wrist.
“I love you, I really do.” Madison grunted as Lionel knocked him onto his side.
“You hate me!” Lionel tried stand up but Madison grabbed onto his right foot pulling back on to the floor. “And I hate you!”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that your deadly dangerous,” Madison panted. Lionel clawed at the floor as Madison dragged him backwards. “And crazy as a loon.”
“Get off of me!” Lionel turned onto his back and tried to kick Madison’s face, only for his brother to dodge his attack. “I don’t like it but it’s my duty to put you away.”
Lionel wrapped his hands around his leg and gave it a sharp yank. His boot came off, and Lionel quickly jumped back onto his feet.
He ran towards the door. His mission had waited this long, it could wait a little longer. He had to get away.
Before he could reach the stairs, Lionel fell forward his stomach hitting ground with a painful crack, as Madison jumped onto his back.
“Ugh!”
“Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you?”
“You call this helping?”
Lionel tried to kick and squirm, but it was no use. Madison had a good couple pounds on Lionel, and considering how long it had been since Lionel had the chance to move around his weakened left him at an even greater disadvantage.
Lionel managed to free his right hand as, Madison pinned his left to his back. He curled his fingers around, out of the corner of his eye he could see the dead start to rise.
“Oh no you don’t.” Madison grabbed Lionel’s free hand.
Lionel tried to fight back. He tried to scratch at Madison’s face, knock his hand against his nose, melt his eyes out of their sockets, anything. It was no use. Madison grabbed Lionel’s hand and shoved it up against his temple.
“Ya…gotta…stop…yourself…Lionel.” Madison huffed as he curled his brother’s fingers around. “Screwing…around…with…the...living…ain’t…gonna…teach…ya…how…to…bring..back…the…dead.”
“Lionel groaned as he tried to fight against his brother’s strength. He could hear the sounds of the dead as the slumped down to the grown. He could feel his brain strain under his own power.
“You’re wrong!” Madison croaked out. “I’ve been given these powers for a purpose Madison. I’ve been put on this earth to heal the ultimate disorder death.”
“There’s no reason for our powers, Lionel.” Madison grunted. “We weren’t put on this earth to do anything.”
Lionel could feel his neurons clashing against each other. Memories of Cain, Dr. Addison, his parents, the war raced around in his mind. Clashing into each other in a terrible mirage.
Madison wasn’t going to let him go until Lionel either fixed himself or agreed to head back to his cell.
If Lionel didn’t do something he was going to kill him.
Lionel took a deep breath. He tried to ignore the screams that filled his ear, the stench of burning flesh that stung his nostrils, the feeling of blood pooling down his head.
He wasn’t in Vietnam. He wasn’t in the jungle. The only people in this room were Lionel, Madison, and the hospital corpses. If he calmed down he could keep himself safe.
This mission could wait. He could complete his destiny another day.
He wouldn’t be able to do that if he was dead.
Lionel let out a hiss of air and sucked in another. He focused on the cold ground beneath him, so different from the moist heat of the jungle.
Lionel relaxed his body. He let his hand go limp in Madison’s grasp. He gave a shudder of a sigh, as he sunk into the ground.
Everything was going to be alright.
He was going to be alright.
He just needed his brother to believe that.
“Lionel?” Madison lifted himself off of Lionel, not letting go of his hand as he positioned himself onto his knees.
He grabbed Lionel up by the shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Are you okay?”
Lionel stared up at him, his red eyes had turned back to their deep blue. He glanced around the room in dazed confusion.
“Madi?” He whimpered. “What’s going on?”
Madison gave out a cry. “Welcome back little brother.”
He wrapped his arms around Lionel, holding him close and never felt so good.
Lionel tried to position his chin on Madison’s shoulder, but the metal plate of his helmet quickly slipped off the fabric of Madison’s jacket.
“Let’s get this thing off of you.”
With a wave of his hand, the metal mask cracked open, sliding onto the floor with a clatter.
Lionel groaned. “Ugh.” He muttered, gripping the sides of his face. He tried to rise to his feet but stumbled. Madison grabbed onto him before he hit the floor.
“Who watch out.” Madison helped him stand. “Take it easy.”
“Oh, Madi.” Lionel’s eyes trailed around the room, realizing what he’d done he let out a soft gasp. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…I just…I was out of my mind wasn’t I?”
“It’s fine.” Madison had Lionel lean against him and directed him to the door.
“No, no,” Lionel shook his head. “None of its fine. The things I did, the things I’ve done...I’m a monster.”
“Hey,” Madison gave him a light jab on the shoulder. “Don’t talk about my little brother like that or we’re going to have a problem.”
Lionel let out a laugh. Not a mean spirited laugh like the ones he gave out before, this laugh reminded Madison of their youth. The days they’d spend at the park, racing their bikes around the neighborhood, or guzzling down sodas.
“How could you ever forgive me?” Lionel asked as he stepped onto the stairs leading back to the first floor. “How could your friend ever forgive me?”
“You weren’t in your right mind.” Madison shrugged. “I think she’ll understand.”
“Still.” Lionel said.
“Hey, look at me.” Madison turned to face Lionel. “It’s going to be okay.”
He pulled Lionel into a second hug. His younger brother wrapped his arms around him and Madison smiled with joy.
“Your cured now.” He released him. “That’s all that matters.”
Static in My Brain
I don't typically post fics on Tumblr, but out of all the works I've written in the middle of the night this one is probably my favorite, so I'm sharing it with you all.
Based on the events of Marvel Fanfare #28
Title taken from Static by Halo Boy
He’s walking down the sidewalk. It’s the middle of the night and the typically crowded streets of Montréal are empty save for the occasional late night party goer or the sleeping homeless person.
He’s careful to step over them, occasionally taking the risk of using his powers to give a quick hover.
He pauses when he sees a teenager. She’s curled up by an alleyway, shivering underneath her coat. He once was that teenage girl. Running around the city streets, grabbing women’s purses, sleeping on sidewalks. He thinks about all the times he’s had the cops called on him for just resting on a park bench. When you’re homeless people always complain about you being there, but they never ask why you’re there.
He reaches for his wallet so he can place a few dollars in her lap.
He curses as his fingers brush the bottom of his coat pocket. He must have left his wallet at the bar.
He had left in a hurry. He had been several shots in when a stranger sat next to him and offered to buy him a drink.
He refused but the stranger insisted. Ordering two shots of vodka. He begrudgingly gulped it down. The stranger then took this as an opportunity to place his hand on his shoulder. He pointedly removed the strangers hand, shoving him aside, as he told him to fuck off.
The stranger got defensive and began shouting at him.
“I’m just trying to be nice to you.” He insisted. “What you can’t be nice in return?”
That’s when his fist collided with the stranger’s nose.
He wasn’t really sure what happened after that. He remembered a bartender telling him he had to leave. That he was making the other patrons feel unsafe.
He thinks he tried to argue with her but all he can remember is the cool gust of wind that brushed against his face as he found himself on the sidewalk. With nothing else to do he started his walk home.
As he makes his way down the bumpy sidewalk, he muses on the idea of flying home. It’s dark and if he flew high enough no one would spot him.
He shakes his head. No, flying while drunk was tricky. He probably couldn’t make it that high if he tired and was liable to run into something or fall and break his neck.
So, he walks, staggering through the clumps of snow that liter the ground.
He tries to remember why he thought it was such a good idea to get hammered on a Wednesday night? He had training with Alpha Flight tomorrow and was going to get an earful from Guardian when he showed up hungover.
His thoughts quickly flick from that when he sees a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. On the deserted street, a lone car drives. Even in the dark night it looks new. A shiny black coat, plump tires, and clear windows.
The car pulls over, two men step out, and make their way over to him.
“Hello buddy.” His accent was anglophonic. “You alright?”
“I’m fine.” He glances behind him. The men are wearing office suits underneath their thick dark coats.
“You don’t sound find.” The other says, he tries to match the pace of the man in front of him.
“Go away.” He speeds up.
“Let us help you.”
The first man grabs his right arm.
He kicks the man’s shin and tries to run as the second reaches out for him. He doesn’t care if the entire neighborhood sees him fly he needs to get away.
He doesn’t get away though. In his drunken state he trips over his own two feet and lands face down in the snow.
He groans as the two man snatch him up. He tries to fight them as they shove him into the back of the car.
“Let go of me you di-”
A sharp pain pricks the back of his neck and the next thing he knows is that it’s dark.
He wakes up a few hours later. Finding himself on the line between dreaming and awake. He can’t open his eyes, and he doesn’t really want to.
He can feel the soft shape of a pillow under his head. The fuzz of a thin blanket lays on top of him. He can feel people walking past him.
“What do you mean you can’t start the surgery?” A familiar voice whines.
“Northstar is heavily intoxicated.” An unfamiliar female voice states. “We can’t possibly put him under anesthesia.”
“He’s been asleep for nearly nine hours.” The familiar male voice argues. “You can’t operate on him now? Every second we wait the Department is wasting valuable time and resources that could be spent on much more important things.”
“Let the lady do her job, Cody.” A sigh, also familiar, but he’s too tired to place it, states.
He blinks his eyes open. His mouth is dry. His bladder is heavy. His eyes stare at the dark paint on the wall before shutting them closed.
“Everyone ready?”
“Not yet, where’s Brown with the GPS tracker?”
“Just got off the phone with him. He’s on his way.”
A gust of air is pumped into his mouth and nose. He coughs as the mask is removed. He groans as bright light beams into his brain.
“What’s going on?” He hums.
He’s in a bright room. The scent of bleach and disinfectant stings the air. A cluster of people in paper gowns and gloves surround him.
“He’s awake.” Some one says.
He feels heavy hands grab onto his shoulders and pin him down. He tries to fight against them but is too weak. His muscles are exhausted, his stomach rumbles, his back aches, and his lips are dry. He cries out as another mask is placed over his mouth.
A new substance fills his lungs…
and he slowly watches…
the room fade to…
black.
The next time he wakes up he fully wakes up.
Eyes wide open, fully conscious, as his head screams and pounds begging for mercy.
He stares up at the ceiling at the flickering yellow fluorescent lights. His brain aches like he’s gazing into the sun.
“Jean-Paul thank goodness we were so worried.”
Jean-Paul glances around, surprised to see Jeanne-Marie sitting in one of the visitor chairs.
Sitting on opposite sides of her are Walter and Narya. In the corner of the room stands Michael and Judd. They all wear expressions of equal concern.
Jean-Paul doesn’t say anything he just stares at them. Glancing around the hospital room trying to figure out just what he’s doing here.
“Jean-Paul are you okay?” Jeanne-Marie gets out of her chair, Walter stepping close behind.
“You’ve given everyone quite a scare.” He adds.
Jean-Paul wants to shout at him. Ideally something in between get away from me or fuck you. As he opens his lips to speak his throat cracks. He lets out a sharp set of coughs. Each heavy, rougher, and drier than the last.
“Jean-Paul take it easy.” Jeanne-Marie says.
“Let me help.” Walter offers as he slams a heavy hand against Jean-Paul’s back.
“Get your paws off me.” Jean-Paul hisses in between gasps for air.
He wants nothing more than to get out of here. Away from Walter, away from Alpha Flight, and away from this hospital room.
He tries to fight through the pain and once again ask what the hell he’s doing here. Only to be interrupted by the opening of the door.
“Look who’s awake.”
Jean-Paul glances over the turned shoulders of his sister and Walter. To see Mac and his wife standing in the door way. He holds a small cup in one hand and she’s carrying a bouquet of flowers.
“How are you feeling?” Mac’s wife, he thinks her name is Helen or Hannah, maybe it’s Harper. She sets the flowers on his trey. Pollen rises from the assortment of daises, peonies hydrangeas, and chrysanthemums. Jean-Paul begins to cough again, somehow it hurts worse than last time.
“Here drink this.” Mac hands the paper cup to Jean-Paul and he downs it like a shot of whiskey. The stream runs down his throat, and he immediately wants another.
“Do you want me to get the doctor?” Mac’s wife asks him.
“No, Heather.” Mac states. “He seems fine, just tired. Isn’t that right, Jean-Paul?”
‘No.’ Jean-Paul thinks. ‘Everything is not fine.’
The last thing he remembers is walking down the street. Trying to get home after a night out. After turning the corner onto a new street…nothing. Just a staticky mess.
A sharp ache runs up Jean-Paul’s nose. He reaches for it, only to be greeted with even worse pain.
“Careful,” Jeanne-Marie pushes his hand back. “You broke your nose when you fell.”
“I…” Jean-Paul coughs. “F...e...e...e...l...l...l?
“Face first onto concrete.” Judd let’s out a playful chuckle. “Hate to break it to you pretty boy but that’s going to leave a mark. Who knows it might be permanent.”
Jean-Paul ignores Judd his mind reals. When did he fall?
As if reading his mind Narya states. “You were missing for quite some time. We all got concerned when you didn’t show up for work.”
“Your sister was worried sick.” Michael adds. “I called several of my contacts at the surrounding hospitals. Three days later an old colleague phoned back to inform me that a John Doe matching your description arrived at Hôpital Central.”
‘Three days?’ Jean-Paul rakes his fingers against his head. His shiny dark curls feel shorter than before. Out of place as if someone had rearranged them in his sleep.
Walter caught onto Jean-Paul’s confusion. “The hospital had to give you a few stiches.” He said. “So, your hair looks a little…different.”
Jean-Paul didn’t even want to know what the doctor’s did to his head. He let out a sigh. He had an event in Calgary next weekend. He couldn’t show up looking like had taken a weedwhacker to the head.
“Walking home in drunk, in the middle of the night, in winter.” Jeanne-Marie scolds. “Honestly Jean-Paul, you couldn’t call for a cab?”
He wants to explain to his sister that he couldn’t have called for a cab. He left his wallet at the bar.
He went to the bar, he got kicked out, he tried to walk home, he… Jean-Paul wasn’t sure what came after that. There had to be something before the fall. He could remember a car. A big black car pulling over next to him. Big black car…big black car…
His brain fizzed at the thought of anymore thinking. He let out a frustrated sigh. Big black car…big black car… two men… what else?
Mac shuffles over to Jeanne-Marie. “There’ll be plenty of time to scold Jean-Paul for his actions later.” He assures her. “We should let him get some rest.”
Jeanne-Marie nodded. “I think you’re right, Dr. Hudson.” She gave her brother a wave. “Get better soon, Jean-Paul.”
The rest of Alpha Flight mutter similar well wishes as they pile out of the room. Michael mentions that he’ll tell Jean-Paul’s doctor that he’s awake. Before long the only ones left in the room are Mac and Heather.
“Heather why don’t you get us some lunch?” Mac asks. “I’ll meet you down in the cafeteria in fifteen.”
“Alright.” The red headed woman leans up and kisses Mac’s cheek. “See you soon.”
With that she leaves the room. As Heather’s shoes click down the hall, Mac walks over to the door and shuts it.
“How are you feeling?” He asks.
“Like my head is on fire.” Jean-Paul groans. “I can barely remember anything from Wednesday night.”
“Well let’s start with what do you remember?” Mac says. “Do you remember falling?”
“Not really.” Jean-Paul shrugs. “I remember turning the corner…um then this big black car pulled up next to me. There were these two men in suits… they…they…”
His head reels. His mouth aches. His throat hurts. He need water. He wants food but he feels to nauseous to eat.
“Hey, don’t over exert yourself.” Mac tells him. “Take a deep breath.”
Jean-Paul does. The air only makes his throat throb more. “It’s all blurry or staticky, I suppose. Everything after that is just a grey fuzz.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Mac suggests. “You know what happened anyway. You tripped and fell on the sidewalk. Perhaps you were startled by the car.”
“But the men…” Jean-Paul starts.
“Maybe they found you on the sidewalk.” Mac tells him. “Lying on the ground, head burst open, blood seeping out onto the snow. Good thing they did too or else who knows what might’ve happened.”
Jean-Paul tries to contest this argument, but his esophagus and tongue hurt too much. Any arguments would come out hoarse and faint. Practically meaningless.
Mac takes note of Jean-Paul’s pain and reaches for his cup. “How about I get you some more water? Hmm. Seems like you need it.”
Jean-Paul nods. Water. Yes. He needs water.
Mac makes his way over to the door. “The doctor will most likely check you over for any signs of concussions or brain damage.” He says. “Good news is that you seem fine.”
“I don’t feel fine.”
“Healthy.” Mac corrects as he steps out the door. “Which is good because we have a mission coming up that I’ll need you on. Saturday, don’t forget.”
The door closes with a thud.
Jean-Paul’s head screams at the sound as he sinks into his pillow.
Saturday. Mission. Right.
First Date Blues
As Heather strolled towards the coffee shop she considered turning around, running back to her car, locking herself in it, and driving away.
Heather could feel her chest ache, her lungs gasp as they tried to suck more air in, her arms numbed, and her feet froze on the sidewalk.
Despite the sun bursting against her skin, she felt like she was freezing. She stuck her hands in her jacket pocket, rubbing them against the rough denim in hopes she could feel something.
Screw the five dollars she paid for parking. If five dollars was what was going to get her out of this then she would gladly take it.
“You spin me right round, baby. Right round like a record baby. Right round, right round.”
Before Heather could turn around, her phone chimed, she dug through her purse. Fingers brushing against a full tube of lip gloss, contacts case, and two sets of keys before landing on it.
She unlocked it, believing it was her mother or a scammer asking about her car’s extended warranty. Instead the contact read:
Judd
The reason she was on this date in the first place.
Heather swiped the green icon, before she could stumble out a greeting, Judd’s rough voice grumbled out: “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of leaving.”
There were times where Heather wondered if Judd was some kind of mind reader. He always seemed to know what she was feeling even before she did.
“I’m not leaving.” Heather stuttered out. Her breaths short and panicky.
“Wait, Heather, are you having an anxiety attack or something?” Judd’s voice shifted from sarcastic to concerned in a heartbeat. “Did you forget to take your pills this morning?”
Heather shook her head. “No…no…of course…I...um…yeah I took them.”
Zoloft, Lithium, Xanax, Melatonin etc. etc.
She was only thirty and Heather was on more pills than an old lady.
There were pills to combat depression. Pills to ease her anxiety. Pills to put her to sleep. Pills to wake her up.
All completely necessary her doctor, her physiatrist, and her therapist assured her.
When the pills were first prescribed Heather had refused to take them.
Her therapist called it PTSD and Major Depressive Disorder, Heather called it nerves.
She didn’t take the pills. She didn’t even go the pharmacy to get the pills, but when Michael found Heather huddled up in the bathroom clutching a lamp as a weapon, even she could agree that something was wrong.
Heather Hudson was broken.
Heather could hear her therapist chiding her. “You’re not broken, you’re just sick.”
Which didn’t make Heather feel much better.
Her mind had been shattered, unraveled, and destroyed by the man she once claimed with confidence was her one true love.
Her husband.
Judd’s voice broke Heather out her thoughts. “Look, Heather, if you’re not feeling well. I can come pick you up. Just say the word and I’ll text Wanda and tell her plans changed.”
“No, Judd.” Heather took a deep breath. “I just need to focus.”
She focused on her breathing. Sucking in the air and slowly pushing it out.
She was fine. She was safe. It was a beautiful sunny day and Mac wasn’t there.
She was going to be okay.
“Ok,” Judd said. “Call me after and tell me how the date went?”
“You betcha ya.” Heather said. “Oh and Judd…”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Heather hung up and made her way to the coffee shop.
The blind date was Judd’s idea. When he proposed putting Heather together with one of his former colleagues she had refused.
“You’re only setting us up together because we’re the only queer people you know.”
“Not, true.” Judd huffed. “I know Jean-Paul.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “The only queer women you know.”
“Fair.” Judd sighed. “But trust me, you’re going to love her.”
He began to sing Wanda’s praises.
“She’s gorgeous, smart, talented. Plus…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “She’s rich.”
“I’m not going to date someone just because they’re rich.” Heather said.
“I’m not suggesting you marry the girl!” Judd huffed. “I’m merely setting you up on a date.”
“Judd…” Heather started.
“And I already told her you said yes, so you have to go.” “Judd!”
So now Heather was at some coffee shop in Downtown Toronto. Not a green corporate brand, rather an artisanal place with erratic hours and a Turkish menu.
“Wanda’s favorite place.” Judd claimed. “If you ignore the prices, it’s not that bad.”
Heather’s eyes widened as she was the price for Baklava. She hoped Wanda was planning on paying, because this date was going to send Heather into debt.
Heather looked around the coffee shop, wishing she had the foresight to ask Judd for a photo. However it wasn’t like he used his phone for much else than phone calls and the notes app.
“She’ll be wearing a bright pink jumpsuit.” Judd said. “Can’t miss her.”
The coffee shop was mostly empty. A group of old women with matching books took up a table in a corner. Two men shared a desert by the door. A father rocking a baby on his hip sipped tea as he chatted on the phone.
No pink jumpsuit.
Heather checked her watch.
10:45.
They were supposed to meet a ten thirty. Heather’s mini-panic attack had costed her five minutes, but she didn’t think Wanda such a stickler for punctuality that she took off when her date failed to arrive at the specified time.
Heather sighed. If Wanda didn’t show up in the next five minutes, she’d leave without ordering and send Judd a text telling him that the date was a bust.
“Wanda Langkowski!” A barista called. She pronounced the name Wuh-and-ah Lang-Co-Sky.
“Over here!”
Heather turned her head.
Stepping out of the rest room was the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on.
Wanda was tall, almost two meters if Heather was guessing correctly. Her tight pink jumpsuit made her legs look longer. Her hair was a shiny platinum that curled down her back.
Heather owed Judd big time.
Heather slinked towards Wanda, as the other woman paid for her coffee. She tucked her hands behind her back feeling slightly ashamed of her own outfit. A pair of high waisted blue jeans, with matching denim jacket, paired with a custom made shirt that had: Where the Heck is High River? Printed on the black fabric.
Wanda was gorgeous, and Heather looked like she had just gotten out of bed.
Wanda’s blue eyes snagged onto the woman lurking next to her. “Hi?” She said.
And now Heather looked like a creep. She straightened up her position and gave Wanda her best smile. “Hi.” She stammered out. “I’m Heather Hudson, are you Wanda Langkowksi? Our friend Judd, set us up on a date.”
Wanda smiled back at Heather. “Thank god. I was afraid you left.” She held out her hand. “Sorry, I’m late. I lost one of earrings in the parking lot.”
Heather’s eyes trailed up to Wanda’s ears. One held a small pearly earring, the other was empty.
“Oh god, that’s terrible.” Heather told her as she took Wanda’s hand.
Heather wasn’t typically one for jewelry. However she was terribly fond of earrings. The small brass plugs that she was wearing were her favorites.
Wanda shook her head. “It’s not big deal.” She gestured to the menu. “Do you want something to drink?”
Heather ordered a black tea and a doughnut looking sweet called hanım göbeği, which Wanda told her translated to “woman’s naval.” The two women then took a seat in the middle of the shop.
“Do you want any?” Heather broke off a piece of her hanım göbeği and offered it to Wanda.
The blonde shook her head. “No thanks.” She said as she took a sip of her drink. “I had a large breakfast.”
Heather nibbled on a piece of food as they sat in silence. Wanda stared at Heather as if expecting her to ask the first question.
Heather wracked her brain. It had been so long since she had been on a first date. She remembered her and Mac’s first dinner back in high school, where he did most of the talking and she just smiled and nodded.
Things were so much easier back then.
Heather swallowed her food, letting out a small cough before asking. “So, Wanda, what do you do for work?”
“I’m a teacher at the University of Toronto.” Wanda stated.
“Oh, a professor, that’s nice.”
“Doctor, actually.” Wanda informed her. “Dr. Wanda Loraine Langkowski.”
“What do you teach?” Heather asked. “Modern physics, I’m also leading a research project on gamma rays.” She explained. “We’re doing a joint study with MIT and my old college friend, Bruce, is assisting us.”
“You must be excited.”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen him since I lived in Pennsylvania.”
“Are you American?” Heather asked.
“No.” Wanda explained. “I just went their for college and later got recruited for the Green Bay Packers.”
“They let women on the football teams?” Heather asked.
“Um…” Wanda blushed. “Not exactly. I’m trans, so that was before…I…”
Heather felt her cheeks heat up, as she glanced down at the floor.
She was really screwing things up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to…” “It’s fine.” Wanda leaned back in the chair. “So I take it this is the point where you say ‘This was fun’, leave, and never call me back.”
“What? No!” Heather shook her head. “I was apologizing for forcing you to out yourself.”
“Oh, Heather, no it’s not your fault.” Wanda said. “I’m the one who brought up I used to play football. I’m not ashamed of who I am. I’m trans. I have a jacket with like twenty different pins on it. A flag outside my house. And a bumper sticker.”
Wanda pulled out her phone and showed Heather a picture of a jacket, that had way more than twenty different pins.
They were all custom made. One that was a simple trans flag with She/Her printed on it. Protect Trans Kids. Trans Equality Now. The Future Isn’t Binary.
“Wow.” Heather said. “I can’t even put sapphic on my dating profile.”
“It’s only something I wear to pride or if I want to piss my ex-wife off.” Wanda explained. “I picked up my son from her place last weekend and she looked like she was going to explode.”
“You have a kid?”
“Just one son.” Wanda explained. “Edmund, I get him during the summer and every other holiday. Divorce is a bitch.”
Wanda gave a quick explanation about her marriage. She and Veronica met when they were young, had a fling that ended with Veronica’s pregnancy, and got married to save face.
“We started the separation process before I came out.” Wanda explained. “It was hell, lost half my assets to her because we never signed a prenup, she and Ed still live in Vancouver so it’s rare I get to see him.”
Heather nodded, not pushing Wanda for more specifics. She knew all about bad marriages.
“What about you?” Wanda asked.
“What about me?”
“You divorced or have any kids?”
“Widowed.” Heather shook her head. “No kids.”
Mac and Heather were never in the right financial spot to have kids. With Mac’s college loans weighing them down, the constant moving for his job, and their hectic work schedules children were never in the cards.
Not that Heather ever felt she was missing out on anything. She had eight million brothers and sisters, plus Elizabeth. As the oldest girl, she had been responsible for acting as a second parent. While her mother nursed the newest baby, and her father was hard at work, Heather’s job was feeding, bathing, and rearing the younger ones.
She had enough dirty diapers to last her a life time.
When she brought this up to Mac, all those years ago, tears in her eyes, worried about how he’d react.
“It’s okay, honey. Really it is. If the Hudson line stops with me, what does it matter as long as I have you!”
That was back in the early years of their marriage. When Mac was nice. A good caring husband. A provider for his doting wife. Willing to do whatever it took to make her smile.
Before the basement.
Before the small dank room, that smelled like mold and paint, the tiny mattress in the corner, the radio that played the same top forty hits every few hours.
The sedatives delivered with cold cereal that Heather willingly took because they stopped her from screaming.
Months of nothing but dull, still, rotting time. Peeing in the small smelly room adjoined to the basement. The showers of dirty water. Hours of banging on the door begging Mac to let her out.
Then there was the fire…
Thick smoke wafting it’s way down to the basement, the unbearable heat, and the fire that took over the upper floors, threatening to burn Heather alive downstairs.
Mac rushing downstairs, throwing Heather over his shoulder, rushing her through the flames as they licked against him.
Heather crying as she felt the cold night air on her face. Bear feet sliding against the freezing snow. Stars twinkling above her in celebration.
“Heather…”
She spun around.
Watching Mac fall to the ground, house burning behind him, the fire department rolling up asking her a million questions, as the paramedics strapped Mac’s body onto a gurney.
Smoke inhalation.
He died of smoke inhalation.
“Heather…” Wanda stared at the woman across from her. “Heather are you okay?”
Heather hadn’t realized it before, but her whole body was shaking. Her glasses were fogging up from the tears that ran down her face. Her chest heaved and hawed, trying to push air into her lungs.
“Hey, Heather, maybe we should go outside.” Wanda reached over. “Get you some fresh air.” Heather lurched backwards, as Wanda’s finger tips brushed against her jacket.
Her knee bumped against the table, knocking the tea over, spilling it onto her lap.
Wanda reached over for napkins but before she could hand them to Heather, the other woman was out the door making a beeline for her car.
Heather sped towards the ancient blue Honda which was parked a few meters away from the coffee shop.
In one swift motion Heather unlocked the car, threw herself into the drivers seat, and locked the doors.
Leaning against the leather seat, she removed her glasses, tucking them into her shirt, as she tried to force air into her lungs.
This whole thing had been a disaster.
Wanda probably thought she was some kind of loon.
Heather stared at her phone glancing at the notification alerting her to a voicemail from Judd. He probably wanted to hear about how the date went. Heather’s heart ached at the thought of informing him about what a disaster it was.
Which was such a shame, because Judd was one of her closest friends. He had done so much for her. Letting Heather stay in his apartment after the fire. Reconnecting her with Michael. Encouraging her take her medication. Helping her snap out of decades of Comp-Het. Getting her this date.
Heather wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She was just going to lock herself in her room for the rest of her life and forget about the world.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
Heather shoved on her glasses as she glanced at the passenger side window. Outside Wanda was waiting.
“Hey.” She said as Heather rolled down the windows. “Everything alright?”
Heather shook her head. “No, not really.”
Wanda reached for the door handle. “Mind if I come in?”
Heather nodded and reached for the button that unlocked the doors. Wanda slid inside in one smooth motion. However she did have to jerk the chair back in order to fit in.
“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything.” Wanda insisted. “I just want to make sure your okay, but if you want me to leave, I will.”
“No, Wanda, it’s fine.” Heather said. “Thank…thank you for checking in on me. I know how weird it must seem.”
“We were talking about kids, and you started crying.” Wanda explained. “I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
“No, Wanda, it’s not your fault.” Heather ran a finger through her hair. “Everything gets on my nerves these days.”
“Oh.” Wanda glanced at Heather’s messy dashboard. “I get that. When I was going through my divorce, I was ten seconds away from punching everyone.”
Sitting there was a hula dancer Judd got her, an air freshener, and a printed out photo of the Virgin Mary her mother insisted she take everywhere.
“Mine’s a bit different.” Heather said. “I have PTSD.”
Heather didn’t go into full detail over her trauma. She just mentioned how she and Mac met. She was seventeen and he was…not.
“I thought it was true love, you know.” Heather explained. “This cute, brilliant, scientist had taken an interest in me, homely Heather McNeil. We got married the moment I turned eighteen.”
She told Wanda how for the first couple years their marriage had been good. They had decided not to have any kids, they moved around Canada for a few years, then Mac got a job working for Roxxon.
“We had to move to New York. It was a huge change.” Heather described. “He wasn’t as home as much, I missed my family, it was misery being stuck in the house all day. One day we got in a fight and I tried to leave. Mac…he wouldn’t…he didn’t…Mac wouldn’t let me leave.”
She skipped the details about the basement, but Wanda seemed to get the idea.
“Then one day the house caught on fire, Mac rescued me, and then he died.” Heather explained. “I know it sounds like a plot of a Lifetime movie, but it did happen.”
“That’s…wow…” Wanda said. “And I thought my marriage was bad.”
“The weird things is that I still love him.” Heather groaned. “I’m not even attracted to men, but there’s still this weird Mac shaped hole in my heart.”
Heather had never admitted that to anyone. Not Judd, not Michael, not her therapist. It always felt so gross. To love the man who locked her up, manipulated her, and abused her. That was crazy.
Crazy Heather Hudson.
“I don’t think it’s that weird.” Wanda said. “You were with that man your entire adult life, he made sure that you stuck with him forever.”
“That’s definitely part of it.” Heather said.
However she was sure her feelings toward her husband weren’t just the efforts of Mac’s carefully coordinated grooming. Some of the love, the caring, the passion, had to be hers.
If it wasn’t, then what had the point of the last ten years of Heather’s life been?
“I get if you want to leave.” Heather said. “I really do.”
“Not a chance, red.” Wanda shook her head. “Look, I like you a lot Heather. I really do. This day was fun.”
“In spite of my panic attack?” Heather asked.
“Not even in spite of that.” Wanda said. “You’re strong, Heather. If there’s anything I’ve learned about you today, it’s that.”
PING!
Heather reached for her phone, but Wanda stopped her.
“Sorry, that’s me.” She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “It’s my friend Narya, asking about how our date went.”
Heather glanced at the icon on Wanda’s phone. Representing Narya was a blonde woman, with sparkling blue eyes, and a serious smile. “Wow, she looks just like you.”
“Narya and I met when I first moved back to Canada.” Wanda explained. “She was a security guard at McGill and people used to joke about how we looked like siblings. After I started transitioning we claimed we were twins separated a birth.”
“Only child, I take it.”
Wanda nodded. “Yeah.”
“Lucky.” Heather said. “I have five brother’s, a sister, and when I was a teenager who took in the child of a family friend.”
“Seven siblings.” Wanda let out a low whistle. “Wow.”
“And I was responsible for all of them.”
Heather regaled Wanda with tales of Becky’s birth, Elizabeth and Trevor’s attempt to bake a cake, and the time her youngest brother Philip adopted a wild possum.
“He sounds just like Ed.” Wanda laughed. “When he was a toddler, I woke up one morning to find him making a slip and slide with soda and flour. You should’ve seen the mess.”
The two women continued their conversation, never leaving the car. Wanda told Heather about the glamorous life of a closeted football player. Heather listened eagerly, occasionally chiming in with stories about their mutual friends. Apparently Narya was the same Narya, as her friend Michael had adopted.
“Did you really think Judd fought in the Spanish Civil War?” She asked.
“God no,” Wanda said. “That would make him like a hundred years old at this point.”
“Do you know Judd’s actual age?”
Wanda’s eyebrow quirked up as she thought for a moment. “No, do you?”
“I always assumed it was seventy something.”
Wanda laughed and glanced down at her phone. “Is it really almost four?”
Heather checked her watch. “It is.”
“I got to get home.” Wanda sat up. “I have a report to send into Bruce, and I’ve been procrastinating all week.”
She opened the door slowly stepping out. “Hey, Heather,” She said. “This was fun.”
“Yeah,” Heather smiled. “It was.”
“Want to do it again sometime?” Wanda asked.
Heather nodded. “Absolutely.”
The two swapped number and Heather reached over to give Wanda a hug. The blonde woman placed a kiss on her cheek and they disentangled.
“See you around, red.” She smiled, waving as she made her way to her own car.
Heather smiled. Her heart feeling light and airy, but not as if she was about to explode. Rather she felt like she was floating, like her body was made of stars.
Heather reached for her keys, ready to make the drive phone as her phone went off.
“You spin me right round, baby. Right round like a record baby. Right round, right round.”
Heather answered it without checking the contact. “Hi, Judd.”
“So,” Heather could feel the older man’s grin as he let out a cackle. “How was the date?”
