Title: All I have Left

Rating: PG13

Category: Angst

Summary: When her anger fades and the pain returns - the tears begin to fall, but there’s still the feint trace of hope left.

Disclaimer ** Wolverine and Rogue and all the x men belong to Stan Lee, Marvel Entertainment, and 20th Century Fox.
I own nothing – I just borrow them but I always give them back!

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I sit and watch through the window as the bike roars down the drive, watch as the large wrought iron gates that were the only barrier left open slowly, let him go and close in silence behind him. As they finally join back together I can no longer hear the roar –
He’s gone.


I feel a single tear roll down my cheek and hurry to wipe its existence away, no more tears -
Anger is all I have left.


I’m angry I was born, born ‘normal’, able to fit in, only to have it ripped away. Angry at my body, my skin. Angry at everything that made me what I was but the kicker to that thought is that I’m angry at the cure, that I took it to cover up what I despised – myself. I’m angry at what I am now, angry at the realisation that poison skin or cured I’m still me, maybe neutered but still me. I’m angry that my excuse is gone –
Angry that I can’t get it back.


I’m angry at my parents, for loving me and for not loving me, for being able to stop so easily. Angry I couldn’t -
Angry I wasn’t enough.


I’m angry at myself for running, for trying to find something else, something better, something more. I’m angry that I found him, trusted him, that I ran with him. Angry that he let me. Angry that I saw through him, angry that I fell and fell hard -
Angry that he didn’t.


I’m angry that he looked after me, that he saved me, that he did it because he cared, angry because that should be enough -
Angry because it’s nowhere near.


I’m angry at the professor for not telling us to leave, angry that we didn’t anyway, angry that we stayed. Angry that when he left the first time that I didn’t go with him, Angry that he didn’t ask. Angry that I let him go –
Angry that I didn’t have a choice.


I’m angry at Bobby for trying, angry I let him. Angry how I found out it was over, that I had to watch the lie collapse. Angry I thought I could pretend to care –
Angry that I couldn’t.


I’m angry at Jean for being everything I’m not, for being everything he wanted and for loving the idea that she was. I’m angry she was playing, angry she enjoyed it. Angry she didn’t care if anyone got hurt, angry that they did -
Angry he didn’t see.


I’m angry at Scott for not doing something, anything, for not stopping it. Angry at the thought that he wasn’t enough for her, angry that maybe he knew, angry she never told him either way, angry because he deserved to be treated better -
Angry that he never realized that.


I’m angry they died, angry it stayed unresolved, angry that maybe through death it became more than it ever would have –
Angry I’ll never know.


I’m angry that he doesn’t/wouldn’t/couldn’t see how and what I feel-
Angry that it wouldn’t make a difference.


Most of all I’m angry at me, at my heart, my soul, the essence that is me or whatever it is that makes you feel, angry that it can make you feel love. I’m angry that it chose him to be the one I fell for, angry that I’m broken, that my heart can break over and over without first being mended -
Angry that it hurts so damn much.


I’m Angry because he’s gone, angry that he may not come back, angry because I’m alone –
Angry because I always was.


As I lie in my bed and try to sleep, the anger fades and is replaced once again by the pain. Tears fall silently into the darkness and as I begin to drift into my dreams, I allow the feint trace of hope to return, knowing full well it will still be there when I wake, knowing it will hurt but I have no choice – it’s all I have left.


The End.