I used to wonder about the future. Used to wonder what my life was gonna be like. Today I saw something though, that made me thank God that I have what I’ve got. Mom and Dad were at it again.
Screaming insults, shouting curses at each other. I don’t know what started it, don’t wanna know either. This fight was no worse or no better than any of the others I’ve witnessed.
He says she’s in love with someone else, she calls him a stupid fool and the gloves come off. I’ve never seen them so fiercely determined to tear each other apart.
Maybe though, I should start at the beginning. Things haven’t always been this way. When I was born twenty six years ago there was peace between them, love, laughter. Everything that a picture perfect couple could ever want.
And then something happened when I was six. I remember this young woman that showed up. She was drop dead gorgeous, long dark hair with white streaks in it around her face. She wore a plain silver choker necklace engraved with some numbers on it, and gloves. I remember them, long, opera length burgundy silk. She never took ‘em off the entire time she was here.
I saw the way Dad looked at her, saw the animosity and the lust in his eyes. It was like he blamed her for something bad even as he wanted her. Mom spoke to her only once in the four days she was here. I remember that conversation so clearly.
“How long are you going to be here?”
“Why?”
“Is he coming to meet you?”
“Why? Still lusting after him?”
“I’m trying to keep my marriage alive, Rogue. We don’t need you or your kind here.”
“No, he isn’t going to meet me here. I’m here for something else, something that y’all stole from us.”
“What is that?”
“Freedom. Go back to your husband, Jean. I won’t give him up to you, or to anyone else for that matter. He’s mine, and he’s stayin’ mine.”
“Its too bad you didn’t die on the statue. Save the world from your bitterness and selfishness.”
“You still wouldn’t have him.”
The look in my Mom’s eyes was so cold, so deadly that I’m surprised the girl managed to walk out of the room. The next morning I got to find she’d left. Something told me not to ask questions, not to pry.
I haven’t pried in all these years. Now as I listen to my parents fighting about some stranger I wonder if maybe I should. I know I won’t get any answers from them so I turn and head to the library. Mrs. LeBeau is there, she’ll be able to help me out.
“Mrs. Lebeau?” I stop in the doorway and wait for her to look at me.
“Hello, Lorna. What can I do for you today?”
“Who are Mom and Dad fighting about?”
I watch the usual mask slide down over her face and wonder why its such a taboo subject to know who they were. I wait tensely for a few moments before turning back toward the doorway.
“Lorna stop, you wanted to know? I’ll tell you what I can. What I tell you, what I give you can go no further. Don’t stir the pot any more than it has been.”
I nod quickly.
“Close the door.”
I slide the door closed and move to sit on a comfortable couch. I wait with baited breath as Mrs. Lebeau sinks into a chair. A glance out the window reveals the sun has gone behind a cloud, and there’s a breeze but I don’t fear it. This is normal, every time Mrs. L gets emotional something happens like this.
“Many years ago. Before you were born a man named Eric Lescher had a plan. He was going to mutate the world leaders, effectively making our plight theirs. He decided to do this he needed a young girl named Rogue to work his machine. Rogue was a runaway, a mutant with deadly skin. He sent one of his people to collect her, only he didn’t count on the fact that she’d made friends with a man capable of taking on anyone and winning. During the course of that fight there were injuries and she was brought here. After some foolish mistakes, Rogue was kidnapped, locked into the machine, and forced to absorb his powers.”
“We didn’t count on Wolverine. None of us. Not Magneto, not your parents, not Professor Xavier, nobody but Rogue. She trusted him, she loved him. She knew what we did not, that he would save her. He did.”
“So why is Mom and Dad fighting over that? They had no way of knowing…”
“Wolverine flirted with your mother, making her think twice about what she had. Your dad isn’t a wild, carefree spirit like Wolverine. I think she wanted to experience the wild side just once in her life. She had no way of knowing that by responding to his flirtations what horrors, what dangers lay there.” A sip of coffee and she shifted, an uneasy look upon her face. “When Rogue was nineteen Wolverine came back. He didn’t say anything to anyone just walked in and Rogue was there to greet him. I saw the way they clung to one another. I saw the love, the lust in their eyes. Still some people didn’t want to see or didn’t believe what they saw.”
“What has that got to do…?”
“Wolverine had been back almost a year when we heard it.”
“Heard what?”
”A scream. Late in the night, coming from Rogue’s room. We all rushed there but he beat us there. We burst into the room to see Rogue clutched to his chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs, her entire body wracked with terror.”
I shudder at the pause in her speech. I know something is wrong, something is going to happen that’s bad and I’m torn. Do I want to know or not? Can I handle the truth? I wonder then it’s too late. She continues.
“You dad demanded to know what was going on and got growled at for his troubles. Your Mom moved forward, she was going to sedate Rogue, let her get a few hours of sleep. Rogue often had nightmares and sometimes she had to be drugged to get any sleep. I don’t know what happened? I don’t remember who moved first. Rogue, Wolverine, or your mother. One moment she was getting ready to inject her with a sleeping aid, the next she’s sailing across the floor, Rogue’s snarling a warning at her, and Wolverine’s got his teeth and claws bared. Ready to go for blood.”
“Your dad moved forward to stop them, to intervene and Rogue started babbling about lust and hatred, and how nobody was going to get her. She was ready to kill him, was willing to touch him. It was a horrid scene.”
“Aunty ‘Ro, why did it happen?”
“The attacks weren’t meant to hurt. Rogue had a nightmare; her mind was swamped with images too horrific to know, to see. Her body burned and ached with the agony the images wrought. In an attempt to cool things off I got your parents out of the room and closed the door. I listened to the soft sobs fade to be replaced by gasps, by sounds of pleasure. The next day they left. No one heard from them for years until the day Rogue showed up.”
“Why did she come back?”
“Your mother. In a moment of anger, of jealousy she went to Wolverine and tried to seduce him. She manipulated his mind until he didn’t know what was real or what wasn’t. Your dad found them, and thought it was the other way around. He shot Wolverine with an optic blast, nearly killed him. Or he may have. No one rightly knows. All we know is about eight months later you were born. No one doubts who your father is, no one but your dad.”
“So they fight over that?”
“Yes. They fight over what’s in the past because neither can admit that what happened was a bad situation. Everyone knew things could go sour, and they did. When Rogue came by that time it rubbed salt into a wound that hadn’t been allowed to truly heal.”
“Who is my father then?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“How can you be so sure? How can you believe that I’m not Wolverine’s daughter?”
“Because,” A soft, slightly accented voice drew my attention and I turned to stare into brown eyes, surrounded by pale streaks and long auburn hair. “Its very hard to get a child from Wolverine.”
“Rogue! If my mother knows…”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Rogue whispered moving through the shadows. “Every single child Wolverine has ever had looks very much like him. You don’t have the look or the personality.”
“And you know this because?”
“I’ve bore him six sons and two daughters. Jean could control his mind, but not his body.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because, there’s something I want here.”
“What?”
I glance between the two women, noticing the age lines that mar my aunt’s face, and the youthful look of the girl next to her. “What do you want?”
“You.”
“Me? Wha…why? I haven’t…”
The slow, warm smile that crosses her face reminds me of another face, another smile and instantly I tense. There was no way that this could be happening, I think.
“Lucas told me he came to speak to your father a few days ago. He nearly got his head blasted off for his efforts.”
“Why?”
“He wants to marry you, Lorna. He wants to give you what your mother could not steal from his father. It’s up to you.” She pulls out a card and hands it to me. “Call me when you decide.”
With that she vanishes like a ghost out the door. A moment later I hear the purr of a Harley and am left sitting in strained, shocked silence with my aunt, a business card, and my confusion.
“Go to him. Don’t let the bitterness of your parents’ marriage spoil your future. Don’t let your mother’s weakness and your father’s blindness ruin your chance of happiness.”
Long after I’m left alone I stare at the card in my hand, hardly aware of the tremble in my fingers. Should I do it? Should I surrender my past for my future? Can I survive the madness that is around me without the man I love in my life? Rising on shaky legs I walk to the phone and punch in the number.
“Yes?”
“I want Lucas.” I whisper.
“And your parents?”
“I need him more than them.”
“Midnight, the south pier. There’s a boat called the Furies. He’ll be there.”
“thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Lucas, I have no use for a Summers.” The phone goes dead and I shiver. I know nothing any more; I don’t know my parents, my friends, my lover. All I know is that the secrets that have been killing my parents marriage are slowly creeping out of the shadows and I’m not sure that we can handle their presence.
A glance at my watch tells me I’ve got about eight hours and I hurry up to my room. I have to pack and get out of here. I can’t live my life according to my folks, I have to stand on my own!
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I have no idea why my muse decided that this particular bunny needed to be given free reign. Blame it on the bunny - that's what I keep tellin' myself. Feel free to send feedback, good or bad.