I loped down the hall, my eyes fixed to the swaying frame of her young hips. I had to berate myself - I was sick old dog. But my heart, thumping wildly, had completely taken over. Not that I could do much to her anyway with her deadly skin, but damn I was gonna let her know how I felt.
That silly dance song hung in my mind, the way it energized her, the way she lit up and turned to liquid flesh at the sound of the infectious beat. It released her to liberties I never expected from my little Marie, but somehow I know, it was all her. She caressed the skin where my deadly claws lie dormant, the first person I know to treat the alloy shards of metal so lovingly. Her chocolate brown orbs haunt my mind, and I have to follow her. She knew I was following her.
It made me feel so nervous, so young. I felt a shuddering inside of me and I wondered how the hell it was that I looked as old as I did, yet felt so vulnerable and small next to the harmless looking woman-child I followed. My body ached for the contact we had moments ago, body shifting against body, my hands on her slim contours. The dark brown long-sleeved stretch-silk shift she wore was breathtaking, even though it covered a lot. It swayed and rippled to her relaxed gait, hugging the shape of her bottom lovingly. Damn lucky dress.
I wasn't sure what I was after. It wasn't that. Not like what I knew everyone assumed. Sure, I'm an animal, and yes, I would have loved to have showed her what for after the little dance she'd done. This was more than sheer carnal ache, however. She'd tormented me for days with slow gazes, long smiles and sweet saunters, and hell I tormented her back. I wore little, said little, but smouldered more than I ever had before. I knew it drove her crazy.
And all that time I was wondering - am I crazy? Am I sick? What the hell was I doing? She was barely eighteen. Those eyes though... so much in there, so old. It scares me seeing that in someone so angelic. What scares me more, is that no matter what, or who, or how much I try to distract myself by going after the woman I know someone like me should be going after, (Jean knocks a man back like no other I know - how does she make ye feel so special?) she is there, looking at me with large and candid eyes, her perfect lips twitching into a smile sweeter than candy. She knows. That's what scares me. Rogue knows everything that I am, she can take a damn good guess at what I'm thinking - she'll be right. Because I know that I'm in her head now. Like that boy, like Metal-Head - I'm inside of her. Unlike them though, I can see she revels in it, me being in her head.
Sometimes we'd be sittin' together outside. She'd be eating her lunch, suckin' on a lollipop (how ironic) or watching the kids play. I'd be sitting silently, reading the paper just to keep my eyes off her front or just lookin' off at the estate. Architecture is certainly a unique form of distraction. I'd glance at her though, and there was this look in her eyes that made a young Logan in my head leap, click his heels and go 'zip-e-dee-doo!' which is embarrassing, cause I never say that. I don't think there's been any other woman I've been perfectly happy to sit with quietly and speak to with glances, twitches, smiles and nods. Sometimes we'd chat though. She always said more than I did. She mostly probed into what I used to do on the road. When I brought up the bad stuff, she'd get this sad lookin her eyes, and her gloved hands sought out mine. I said it didn't bother me, but like I said - she knows me. She knew it bothered me.
I'm unarmed around her, with no protection, because she knows. What really haunts me, is that think she's in my head too. I don't think the mutation works that way. I don't think she can deposit herself in someone's head. Maybe I'm finally going senile.
She turned the corner in the corridor, slipping into - my room? What the... Worry filled me. Maybe she got the wrong idea - well damn we had been practically fucking with our clothes on, of course she has the wrong idea. I opened the door to my room slowly, cocking a brow at her darkly, and I cleared my throat. She was spread out on my bed, on her stomach, flicking through a magazine and tilting her head idly as she looked at the pictures of motorcycles.
She glanced up to me, blinked, and looked back down, completely ignoring me.
"Any reason why you're camping in my room?"
She shrugged, "Ah'm bored of listening to Kitty and Jubilee talking about how cute Bobby is," she said.
Well, that had to be grating. I closed the door behind me, my heavy booted feet clunking on the carpetted floor as I loped over to her.
"Whay are there always naked women ahn motorcahcles?"
I shrugged, battling a smile. It was moments like this the little girl reared her gorgeous little mug, and it made me deliriously happy to see it.
"Because dirty old men like me like to look at motorcycles," I said, "And they figure they'd entertain us a little while we're gawkin' at their bikes."
She smirked, flipping to the cover of the magazine where immaculately neat writing in blue biro lay, "Hmmm - property of Scott Summers... Does that mean Cahclops is a dirty old man too?"
I smirked back at her, nodding, "In the making, Kid."'
"Jean's in for a suhr-prahse," she drawled, and I couldn't help but chuckle now. She glanced up as I did, that sweet smile on her face again. I could tell she felt happier when she could make me laugh. She should do, she's the only one that can. I sank down next to her on the bed, watching her flick through the pages of the magazine.
"Are you really interested in what's in that thing?"
"Surprahsingly, yes," she smiled, "I learnt quahte a bit about 'em with you in mah head for a time, I actually realahsed what was so damn addictive about 'em."
I lifted a brow, "And that is?"
"They're fast," she said, slipping close the magazing and dropping it onto the floor, "And shiny. Two things Ah don't think any man can resist."
"One day I'm in you're head and suddenly you're an authority hmm?"
She smiled again, leaning her face on her hand, "It was enough to be an authority on you."
I had to look away. She was doing it again. Making my heart beat faster, driving me wild. I sighed, sitting down on the floor, leaning against the end of the bed so my head was near her eye level. She was looking down at me, a soft smile on her features. She sank down, leaning on her folded arms, her legs kicking in the air behind her.
"What're you thinking?"
She was using that innocent sweet voice again, that intoxicating drawl falling from her. I turned and met her gaze.
"Don't you know?"
"Perhaps," she said, tilting her head, "Ah maght be wrong though."
"Well you tell me," I said, "And then we'll find out."
"Ye feel bad," she said, "Don't. Ah danced as much as you did out there."
I felt my jaw clench, and I looked to her, trying to keep my gaze steady. "You've seen inside my head."
She nodded.
"Doesn't it bother you, having a psycopath like me in there?"
That long smile came back, "You're not a psycopath."
"Maybe not by Mississipi standards-"
I felt her whack me then and I chuckled.
"Jus' you wait," she muttered darkly, a hint of jocularity in her eyes.
I smiled, looking back to her just behind me. Her lips were teased to a smile. They were so delicious looking, it tormented me. Everything about her was a torment, but such sweet agony it was.
"Is that an official threat?"
"You bet," she said, "Ah gotta whole can o' whammo, right were I can get at it!"
Yes, that she did. I fiddled with my hands, wringing them tightly, nerves jangling in me. It was odd, feeling nervous. I rarely ever did.
"It doesn't bother me," she said suddenly, her lips twitching nervously. I blinked, feeling my insides soften.
"Why not?"
"Cause it's always been the closest thing to intimacy Ah have," she said softly, "Knowing you so well."
I gazed at her long, my heart swelling within me. Had I been indestructable and not fraught with guilt, I would have kissed her right then. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks, and I glanced down to my hands, arms propped on my knees.
"Sorry," she said suddenly, embarrassment in her voice with a chuckle, "There're some things people jus' don't wanna know, Rogue."
I slipped my hand into her gloved one, squeezing a moment, "I wanted to know that, Marie. It means a lot to me."
A smile blessed her cherubic face again, and I pulled my hand away after a final squeeze, a lightness returning between us.
"So," I said, "Did you have fun dancing tonight?"
"Well o' course," she grinned, stretching her arms out languourously from the bed, her eyes sparkling, "I loved it."
I felt a flitter of joy within me and I sighed, "Bobby seemed pretty eager to dance with you..."
"Ugh," the girl rolled her eyes, "I love Bobby dearly, he's mah friend but... Ah dunno. Somethin' ain't there, ya know? A spark o' sumthin'..."
I nodded, holding her gaze, "I know exactly what you mean."
That smile sparked on her face again, "Ah know you do."
"Do you?"
"Yep," she nodded, tapping the side of her head.
"This isn't fair," I said, nudging her with a shoulder, "You've had the chance to waltz around in my head seein' what you like and I know jack."
She gave a long smile and shook her head, "That's not true."
"No?" I rose a brow and gave a cheeky smile.
"Ah'm just a girl," she said, still stretching her arms, letting her fingers slide over between themselves, "An' Ah'm young. You know things Ah don't. You can probably read mah actions lahke a book."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
She gave a coy look and ducked her head away. I smiled. Yeah, I could read her pretty well, and I liked it. Didn't wanna say that and embarrass her though. I knew it would embarrass her. She pulled herself up slowly, then jumped up to her bare feet, padding to the door. I frowned.
"Where you goin'?"
"Don't worry," she smirked, "I'm just gettin' somethin' from mah room. I'll be raht back."
She slipped out of the door, and some part of me fell. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to slow my heart a little. What the hell was wrong with me?! Where had all my self control gone? And what the hell was the Kid getting? My thoughts drifted back to her knowing smile, her easy sensuality. It's always been something that's captured me. I hadn't really noticed until the day I left here for my little journey of self-discovery in the Canadian Rockies. I hadn't remembered her looking so grown up or, aged I suppose. Something there was older, more knowing. And it stang me deeply, knowing I had to leave her. Something in me ached to know I'd not see her face for months. I'd had her around constantly for the past week and part of me had grown to need her. That scared me too... needing her so badly.
The door thumped open and the girl strode in, lugging a small CD/tape deck with her, a CD cover wedged in one hand and the cord for the player in the other. I got up, helping her out, a nervous grin flashing on her face.
"Thanks," she said, "Jubilee won't mahnd us borrowin' this..."
I frowned, "What for?"
She blinked, then looked down, hefting the player only momentarily before placing it down on a side-table, "Some nahce quiet music," she said, and lifted up the CD, "You mahnd him?"
I squinted at the CD. It was a reddy-orange looking thing, a slender but soft-eyed young guy on the cover, the name meaning nothing to me. He looked like the kind of person I was wary of, the ones that saw right into you. The only one I felt comfortable around was Rogue.
"I never heard of him," I said finally.
"Oh, he played rahnd where I lived a lot. Me and mah friends were so sad when he died."
I glanced up, "He died?"
She nodded, "It's sad. He was only 29 too."
"Life's like that."
"It's my favourite CD," she said, "Wanna hear the song I like most?"
"Sure," I nodded.
After bending over the stereo a moment, (Oh sweet Lord above me, that behind), she spun about, her eyes warm and affectionate. A muted guitar was strummed in a rocking rhythm, one Rogue bopped her hips to. I shook my head, turning to sit down, but her hand tagged mine, pulling me around.
"Don't you think we've done enough dancing tonight?"
She gave a smile and silently shook her head.
A tinging guitar danced up and down, and her arms slipped around me, small hands gripping my frame. Her eyes locked onto mine, her body swaying mine into action. I let a small smile take my lips, my hand settling on the small of her back. Then the voice started. Reedy in a way, but sensuous - for a guy. Very free, tender. Things I don't think I was, or was good at being. I let my hands wind around her, cuddling her lightly.
There's no easy answer, none to blame or forgive... we were two cripples dancing, to the bitter end we live. I'm not with you but of you, not with you but of you...
The words echoed in my mind as I looked at the girl wrapped in my arms. Not with her... but - yes I was of her. In every way I was of her. Nothing seemed to describe more what our existence was... being of each other.
"If Ah say somethin'," she said, her voice trembling a little, "Will you promise not to laugh?"
I let my brow twitch down and I nodded, "Sure."
She looked up, pursing her lips nervously, "I always wanted to dance with someone special when I first heard this song. When you left, Ah decided I wanted that someone to be you."
Her candid honesty touched me, and had my heart leaping. I met her frightened gaze, a determination in my own eyes. My hand slid to hers, taking the delicate gloved form and pressing my lips to the lilt in her palm as I held her gaze. I pulled her into a firm embrace, kissing the top of her head, her silky hair protecting me from harm.
"D'you think Cahclops is angry at us?"
I grunted, "S'none of his damned business."
She nodded, settling her head on my chest again. A fire of confusion reigned inside of me, not of if I wanted this sweet nymph in my arms -oh I wanted her entirely, or whether I should stop and tell her this was not right - I couldn't if I tried. The confusion was - did she love me, or was this just a light fancy? Did she realise how I felt? This was a sweet song, I realised, the words still running through me.
You are soft and young to me, I am the ghost who comes and goes...
I let a hand touch her brown hair that shone copper in the dim lamp-light, the white bolt glimmering a rich silvery-gold. She shifted into the touch, a sigh leaving her. I couldn't help but smile. It was then the song took a turn for the aethereal, the singer's voice crying out just how I felt.
O, God, I love you! And all of the past we once knew, some other love becomes you and whatever else we come to - I know we could be so happy baby... if we wanted to be.
I fetched a swath of her scarf that wrapped her neck, letting it caress her face where my own fingers could not. I tilted her head up, and just gazed into her, hopingshe - in her deep knowledge of me - knew what such a gaze meant.
Meeting her brown eyes, I nearly staggered over, my heart tremoring madly. There was a firmness in her gaze, she was drilling home a message right into my soul. These words, this song... it was her heart speaking to me through the words. And that knowledge had my whole being curl weakly in despite of my surly and indestructible frame, my mind crumpling faster than body to her touch. She could hear my thoughts in this song, my essence echoing in her mind at the words, and her heart joining in with a haunting melody, softening the anger that always resided within me, directed at the world. If I could sing, I would have sung these words to her. But I let this 'Jeff Buckley' sing it instead. He had the touch to make it mean something.
You are soft and young to me, I am the ghost who comes and goes... And I hope I'll catch you in the throes... Of one last look at joy that we've become...
She squeezed me at that point, smiling up at me, her eyes happy. So happy. There was that sadness there, that I'd seen in her from the very first second in the bar, but a wash of some saving happiness was there now. It sent me dizzy to think that I, of all people, could have placed it there.
I'll just sit here and glow, break out the oldest pictures, Hang your ruined letters out to dry, We had a birthplace in common, and seperate beds and lives.
This made me remember the letters I'd written her on my trails. I don't know why I decided to write to her, I just needed to have some sort of connection with her, something more tangible than my dreams or fantasies. I often wondered if she did more than read them and stuff them away. I was touched to know that when I came back, she presented them to me, all neatly stacked in a box. On the odd occasion, I'd stay more than two days at a place, perhaps a week just to seek out a lead. And I'd for once, get a letter from her. It would reek of strawberry lip gloss and flowery perfume, the kind she used when she finally settled down at the Professor's school. My letters always told her of what I was doing. They were probably as boring as hell. Her letters were always so interesting. She'd put poetry in it, and unlike most poetry, I kinda liked it. It wasn't the fluffy love poetry, or fashionably anquished soul poetry. They were eloquent lines that glimpsed into who she was. They were kind, and sad. Angry, and powerful. Parts of my own soul shone through, forever burnt into her psyche no doubt. But they were unmistakably Marie, bearing her soul to me, knowing that only I would understand, and know.
Once, she sent me two pictures of herself. It was her and Kitty at a passport photo-booth. Kitty was pulling a silly face, but Rogue... she was giving that brilliant smile I loved so damned much. The second, the second was intriguing. She said Kitty was checking to see if the machine was working, and I could see the purple smudge of the girl's sweater in the corner. And Marie - she was just looking at the camera as it flashed, a soft look of pondering on her features. There was a definite tenderness there. This photo made my heart soar. She said in the letter she was wondering what I was doing.
Oh God! I love you! And all of the past we once knew, some other love becomes you, and whatever else it comes to - I know we could be so happy baby... if we wanted to be... I know we could be so happy baby... if we wanted to be... oh...
The song drifted off to silence, leaving us in each other's arms, waiting for something. She glanced back at the player, turning the CD off, her lips twitching sweetly. She looked back to me, shrugging.
"So... did ya like it?"
"Not usually my kinda thing," I said, truthfully, "I'm generally a rock n' roll kinda guy."
She nodded, disappointment ringing in her eyes.
"But I loved it," I said, feeling odd about saying the word 'love' when generally I was indifferent to anything but anger and rage and lust. She glanced up, a smile blessing her face.
"Cool," she said, toeing the ground, "I like dancing with ya, you're good at it."
A weathered smile creeped at the corners of my mouth and I tugged on her scarf lightly. She smiled again, a silent laugh shaking her. My hand hung at the scarf, and I pulled at it, my hand moving for me, doing what I feared to. They slipped around her, pulling her into an embrace, different to any other I'd given her. I could feel her sinking into my shape, her little body hanging against mine as her arms wound about my shoulders. I could feel her gloved fingers sinking into my hair, scruffling at it, pulling me in as my hands settled, one at the small of her back, one at the gentle curve of the behind I'd been appreciating all night. My moves weren't aggressive, for once in my remembered existence I was gentle, reverent. She squeezed herself against me, and I shifted my body against hers, my whole frame caressing hers in a movement. She gave a soft moan, it was quiet and thankful. I slipped a hand to her head, rubbing my fingers against the satin strands carefully.
There could be no mistaking in my movements, no confusion from now on. I loved her.
"Marie..."
"Hmm?"
I paused, my voice battling itself.
"Stay."
She paused too, a shudder running through her and into me.
"Okay."
I Know We Could Be So Happy Baby (If We Wanted to Be)
Jeff Buckley.
There's no easy answer, none to blame or forgive
Two cripples dancing to the end we live
I'm not with you but of you, not with you but of you
You are soft and young to me, I am the ghost who comes and goes
And I hope I'll catch you in the throes
Of one last look at the wonder, one last look at wonder.
O, God, I love you
And all the past we once knew
Some other love becomes you
Whatever else we come to
I know we could be so happy baby, if we wanted to be.
You are soft and young to me, I am the ghost who comes and goes
And I hope I'll catch you in the throes
Of one last look at joy that we've become
But there's no easy answer, none to blame or forgive
We were two cripples dancing, to the bitter end we live
I'm not with you but of you, not with you but of you
Oh God I love you
And all the past we once knew
Some other love becomes you
Whatever else we come to
I know we could be so happy baby, if we wanted to be.
We had a birthplace in common
We had seperate beds and lives
I'll just sit here and glow, break out the oldest pictures
Hang your ruined letters out to dry
We had a birthplace in common, and seperate beds and lives
I know we could be so happy baby, if we wanted to be.
I know we could be so happy baby, if we wanted to be.
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Story Notes:
Thanks Misty for being ever supportive, and for Messa, our little partner in crime!! Diebin - thanks for the thanks! If that makes any sense at all!! And Nickle, for saying she loves me. You are all my Goddesses! And and and - for Jeff Buckley. He's a man that musically, swept me off my feet with his beautiful expression. I felt a kindred in him even though I never met him. But his art and soft flickers of his soul through interviews and articles on him are burnt into my heart for always. Had I known him, perhaps he would be one that would know me, for he loved music as much as I do.