Momentum: Impetus of a Moving Object
I hate to break tradition, but this story starts with my death.
Knocked unconscious by a self-righteous jerk with a metal fetish, cuts that would require stitches and a hospital stay on a man without my...gifts, a cheerful kick in the crotch by the blue bitch, six (voluntary) blades through the chest, bruises, pulled muscles, three broken ribs and, my personal favorite, that oh-so-special experience of having my claws bent back in my arms. Yeah. Fun night.
But none of that, none of it compares to the pain I felt, seeing Marie's limp body, not hearing her heart beat. I'd have let Sabertooth claw my spine out, then shifted so he could get at my kidneys, just to see her chest rise with breath, or her eyes move under those closed lids. I would have been happy even to hear her screaming in fear or pain, because then at least I would know she was alive.
I cradled her, I kissed her forehead. Sweet, beautiful girl. So quiet and still. Not a mark on her, but my senses will never let me mistake asleep for living.
Her fucking skin, so soft and pale. Stupid skin. Fucking mutation that wouldn't even work when she needed it the most. It was cold, standing there in the place where the Statue of Liberty's flames should have been. She was still a little warm, but that was fading fast. I pulled her closer. Rogue. Kid. Marie. My chest ached and my eyes burned. (i'll take care of you...you promise?)
And when that familiar, hideous suction finally began, when I feel the pull of my life in to hers and my vision became hazy and weak around the edges-
(yeah. yeah, i promise) I'm happy.
-Waking up in that lab bed yet again, the cold, stringent hospital smells clearing my nose like a jalapeno and making me feel nauseous and angry at the same time. Why didn't they just leave me in the room upstairs? The one Chuck assigned me?
Did it ever cross the telepath's mind that those heart monitors, needles, metal tables might make me want to pop a claw-or six? I'm tired and sore,but nothing too bad. The same ache I could get from a vigorous run. Not as bad as the last time Rouge and I touched.
Soft, feminine hands are on me, running lightly up and down my chest. I knew immediately they were Jean's, even without my special senses. She has those long nails. Why is she always feeling me up? I'd be happy to give her a nice roll and tumble, but I'd also like to be fully awake for it.
Still, when I open my eyes and see the doctor's face looking down-those sharp green eyes, that sensuous flirty mouth and a shirt that was buttoned a little less than necessary-I'm stunned for a moment by an emotion I don't quite recognize. Disappointment? Why was I expecting brown hair instead of red?
She tells me the kid's okay, that my healing ability took care of her. Good. Good. I try not to smile but muscles I didn't know were tensed loosen in my body. Jean says Rogue 'took on a few of my more charming personality traits', and I don't know what she means but I'm feeling too relieved to ask. The kid's okay. I saved her. Marie's alright.
"I think she's a little taken with you."
I feel a bubble of warmth in my chest, which I attribute to being happy that the kid's alive, able to even have a crush. "Well, you can tell her my heart belongs to someone else."
That great red-lipsticked mouth curves up in a smile, and her scent spikes with lust. Oh yeah, Jean wants me.
The X-team, sitting on the couch watching TV, looking so casual you wouldn't think that just the other night they were in leather uniforms trying to save the leaders of the world on the Statue of Liberty itself. Scott has his arm wrapped around Jean, so smug and comfortable...I hope that sweater vest gives him a rash. Various teenage freaks are playing card games, checkers, and Foosball, hanging out like a sitcom family.
God, I need to get the hell out of here.
The directions Chuck gave me-detailed and even laminated- are folded up in my pocket (a military compound.....Alkali lake...). For the first time I have a trail, a real lead. I can find out who I was. I'm going to have a past.
Marie. Laughing with her friends, her brows furrowed in concentration and a scent of pleasant competition as she plays at the Foosball table. I haven't seen her much since I woke up. Her skin has a pink tint to it, much better than it had been on that statue- much healthier than when I first saw her at that bar. I stand there watching her for a few moments in the doorway, see her grin at the blond kid next to her. This is a good place,and she'll be taken care of. Her life is full now. No need for me to step in that room and spoil it.
Jean was the only one that spotted me as I made to go, but her's was a quick glance, and she turned back to the television.
Quick footsteps behind me and the knowledge that leavings not going to be so clean cut. I take my hand off the doorknob.
"You runnin' again?"
That teasing southern voice of hers, and if it weren't for my heightened sense of smell I would never have recognized that hurt under Marie's question. Hurt. Was I hurting her? Did she think I was going back on my promise on the train? That I wouldn't look out for her? Fuck.
"Nah. Just got a few things to take care of up North." I'll come back, kid.
That hair, falling around her cheeks, so soft and thick. Brown eyes wide-too big for her face, but somehow fitting. I reach out and touch one of those strips of pure white in her hair. I thought I'd been hallucinating when I saw them at Liberty Island. For some reason I think of angel wings.
"I kinda like it," Marie said, shrugging carelessly. Of course she did. I almost feel myself smile,again.
"I don't want you to go." She sounds so honest, so serious. But not hopeful. And she doesn't ask me to stay. I'm so bad at goodbyes...Actually, come to think of it, I've never really given one. Not one that matters, anyway. The people I meet don't Shit. And Marie's looking at me with those wide eyes and I remember what Jean said about being taken. (Alkali lake. My memories. My memories.) Hell.
I adjust my hold on my knapsack awkwardly. Then, without pausing to let myself think, I unclip the chain from my neck and press the thin strip of metal-once upon a time my only real possession, and still a physical link to my past-l into her gloved palm.
"I'll be back for this."
Did I mean my tags, or to hold her hand? I didn't ask myself that question for a long time.
I left. The pull of that road was a song I could already hear. The longing to go and not stop, to pick up speed and fly. I did not look back at Marie. I didn't.
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Story Notes:
I cannot tell you how happy I am to be sitting here typing this. Writer's block is a sick, terrifying disorder. When this story came to me(though I'm not religious)it was like a light shining down on me and I felt like jumping up and down singing "Hallelujah"...Okay, so I danced a little. I need to thank the Eleven Reasons Prompt Community, and the First Line Story Prompt site. You have no idea how grateful I am for your inspiration. This story is going to be about eleven chapters long, and I hope to update as quickly as possible. Each chapter will relate to a scientific idea, law, or word. Now, without further rambling, I hope you enjoy the story. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
Chapter End Notes:
Wow! You reached the end! Not long, was it? I truelly hope you enjoyed it. I am not into drinking, drugs, or cigarettes, but I am terribly addicted to comments, so please, please give me my fix. Please, review-good or bad. I'd love to hear what you think. And I will give fifteen magical cookies to anyone who gives a suggestion. Promise.