shad•ow
noun
1. an area of relative darkness caused by the blocking of light
2. an ominous feeling of oppressiveness, sadness or gloom.
3. a remnant or vestige: a shadow of one's past self
"I never saw it coming," she says softly.
I turn away from the window and glance across the room at Rogue's blanket-covered form in my bed. She has her back to me, but even without seeing her face, I know that she isn't talking to me. She's been sleeping for the past hour, talking to someone in her dreams.
After the whole Danger Room thing happened, I took her back to my room and had her lie down; or rather, asked Carol to lie down so Rogue could get some rest. After Hank stopped in to check her over, it took a while for things to settle; Carol was still really keyed up, cussing a blue streak about "Ice-dick and his Kitty-cat". I can't blame her; Bobby made a really dumbass mistake. He should have stayed with Rogue, his assigned partner, instead of running off to help Kitty. What a big help he was, too; he did absolutely nothing except hold her hand while she phased them both to avoid getting shot. Dumbass.
Still, what troubles me more than what Bobby did is the way Rogue was acting before she was knocked out by the sentinel. Yes, it was a dick move what Bobby did, and I intend to beat his ass for it the next time I see him, but I can't believe that Rogue allowed herself to be so distracted by that. It's not like her to lose focus in the middle of a battle; she is usually a fighting machine with a one-track mind when she faces an opponent. Instead she had the same look on her face that she had in that team meeting; lost in a cloud of animosity as she stared at Bobby and Kitty, completely unaware of what was going on around her. I know that those two can be annoying, but it just doesn't make sense.
My thoughts are interrupted by a soft moan.
"I can't take this pain any more," Rogue whispers.
I take a step towards the bed, then stop myself; I shouldn't wake her, she needs the sleep...though I can't say how much good it will do her when she's like this. I let out a weary sigh and scrub my face, heading back to the window ledge. Hank already gave me medication for her earlier; but I don't think that it will help this kind of hurt. I've been watching her toss and turn every night. Listening to her pain and sadness. I should be used to this by now, but it's taking everything I have not to wake her up again, just to take the nightmares away.
"You keep saying hold on a little longer. I wish you would stop saying that," Rogue pleads softly, her voice breaking. "I don't want to hang onto this hope any more. He's not coming."
I look over my shoulder. Who is not coming? Who is she waiting for?
I quietly approach the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress next to Rogue. Brushing a lock of white hair away from her face, I watch as her emotions play across her delicate features. It's hard watching her go through this every night. I keep thinking maybe it will get better with time; that maybe I can chase away these demons with love and patience. But maybe...maybe love and patience aren't enough.
I've been patient, as much I can be, ever since that night Carol and I talked about their imprisonment at Weapon X. I haven't asked any questions since then, haven't asked what happened and what they did to her. I haven't pushed Rogue to tell me how she got there, or how she got out. But I'm this close to giving up on this waiting game that we've been playing.
No, I won't ever give up on her; that's not even an option. But I need more to go on than a bunch of one-sided conversations taking place in a dream, more than just a few hints of her past from the woman who shares Rogue's body.
Carol. She must know more than she is letting on; she shares a body and a mind with Rogue. How much does she see of Rogue's memories? How much does she know?
Maybe I can talk to Carol while Rogue is sleeping. Would she tell me anything? Immediately I feel a twinge of guilt. Part of me that says it would be wrong to go to her behind Rogue's back...but then again, there is another part of me that says Rogue needs my help, and I need to do whatever it takes to give her that, even if she's not ready.
I shake my head. No...Rogue would see it as a violation of her privacy. I have to sit her down myself and somehow get her to talk to me.
As I sit there debating, something I overhear catches my attention.
"You abandoned me, Bobby. You left me to die," she hisses. "Do you have any idea what I went through? What kind of hell I've had to endure?"
I think she must be dreaming about the Danger Room incident now. The last part doesn't quite make sense, though. What does that mean, the hell she's had to endure? Does she mean Weapon X?
"You knew where I was-- for years! And you never said a word to anyone."
Her face darkens with anger, her breathing becoming more rapid as her legs move restlessly under the sheets.
"You disgust me. I was never enough for you, was I? You never had the guts to be honest, never had the guts to choose. You just kept me waiting in the wings, while you had your little indiscretions with that whore."
That doesn't make sense either. Indiscretions with that whore? Who is she talking about? Kitty? Professor said that Rogue was never with Bobby, and if that's true, she wouldn't be saying these things to him at all. But if she's not saying these things to Bobby, then who is she saying them to?
The thought of Rogue with anyone, let alone Bobby, causes the animal inside to stir. Jealousy begins to creep up inside of me, and I struggle to tamp it down. I know she had a life before I came along, and it's unreasonable to expect that I'm the only man she's ever been with.
Anyways, maybe I'm reading into things too much. Dreams aren't exactly linear in nature; they are often a mashup of different memories and thoughts, sometimes happening out of order, sometimes all happening at once. Some of it is real, and some of it is not. Still...her words have something niggling in the back of my brain.
"Shut up." Rogue rolls over, her face twisted in a grimace . "Shut up. Shut up." Her hands fly up to cover her ears, and she begins repeatedly banging her head on the pillow. "Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up-shut-up!"
"Woah, hey," I say, trying to sooth her. "Rogue, darlin', it's ok. It's ok. Marie!" I gently shake her shoulder. "Wake up, baby."
She wakes with a start, her eyes darting about the room. I wait a moment for her to get her bearings.
"You're ok, darlin'. It's me. You're ok."
She blinks a few times, then finally looks at me, recognition slowly seeping into her consciousness. She looks tired. More tired now than she did before she fell asleep.
"He was in my head."
"Who was in your head?"
Her eyes grow distant as she tries to recall. "Bobby. I don't know how he got in there. I don't--I don't remember touching him, but he was there, clear as day."
Bobby? When would she have touched him? Could it have happened in the Danger Room? Maybe it happened before I got here in the new timeline. I sit there quietly and rub her back, trying to comfort her even as a hot wave of possessiveness runs through me.
"Is he there now?" I ask calmly.
"No, I...I don't feel him any more, but...he was there...but that can't be. I don't know, it felt so real."
"It must have been just a dream, darlin'."
"Not a dream," she shakes her head slowly. "More like...a memory."
"I'm sure it seemed like a memory," I tell her softly. "Dreams can seem so real when we're stuck inside of them."
"No," she insists. "I know the difference. I don't know how to explain it, but there's a certain...feel to it when someone has been in my head.
"So you think he touched you somehow by accident?"
"No, definitely not, but...I could swear it was real. It couldn't have been, though."
I watch as she tries to put the pieces together. "What did he say to you?"
She flinches ever so slightly. "Nothing," she answers and looks away.
"Didn't seem like nothing a minute ago."
"It was nothing."
"You were banging your head, trying to get him to shut up," I tell her. Her eyes dart to mine self-consciously. "It was on the pillow, but still. It looked like you were trying to hit your head up against a wall."
"Oh..." she whispers, her face turning pink. She fidgets with the sheets, which have been crumpled in her fist.
"Come on, darlin', talk to me," I gently coax her, brushing away a lock of hair and taking her hand in mine.
She shakes her head. "He was saying...things I didn't want to hear. I couldn't shut him out because he was inside my head. I just wanted him to stop."
"What kinds of things?"
She hesitates. "Things about you," she whispers.
"About me? What did he say about me?" I say softly, my thumb caressing her hand.
"That you left me alone...because you loved Jean."
My hand stills. For a moment I can't even speak. That she would even believe that for a second...it's like a cut to my heart. "Darlin," I shake my head, "You know I don't love Jean. I love you. Only you. I would never leave you, ever. You know that, right?" Her eyes are cast downward as she nods her head. I lift her chin to look me in the eye. "Don't believe a dream, no matter how real it seems. I'm real." I take her hand and place it over my heart. "This is what's real."
She looks into my eyes for a long moment, as if she's searching for something. Finally she leans forward and throws her arms around me for a hug. I pull her close to me and wrap my arms tightly around her, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.
"You've been having a lot of nightmares, and they're getting worse," I murmur into her hair. "I wish you would talk to me about it."
"I know..."
"You've been acting a little off lately, too. First with the meeting, and then with what happened in the Danger Room..."
She pulls back. "What do you mean, what happened in the Danger Room?" She looks down at herself, suddenly noticing that her uniform is gone and she's tucked into bed. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?"
She thinks for a moment. "I remember we split up into teams and were fighting the Sentinels," she says cautiously. "I was with Bobby...and...he ditched me to go help Kitty. I was handling things ok, though. But then...I saw them together and I couldn't tear my eyes away. I don't know what was wrong with me. I was just...stuck. That's the only way I can describe it. Like I was stuck inside a memory or a dream, even though I knew it was happening now. And then there was this blinding pain..." She looks up and shrugs her shoulders. "That's all I remember."
"You were knocked out of the air by a sentinel. Slammed against a tree...then almost crushed under its foot. You couldn't breathe. Scott had to shut down the simulation to get you out of there."
"Oh...that's...wow." Her gaze falls and she rubs her chest, realization darkening her expression; she grimaces as she remembers the pain. "I guess...maybe I'm not as invulnerable as I thought, am I?"
"You're still the strongest person I know," I assure her. "But I think we all found out today that you're not invincible. You have to learn how to be careful and understand the ways that you can be hurt."
"Yeah...I guess you're right," she nods reluctantly.
I take her hand again. "There's something else."
Her eyebrows furrow as she looks up. "Something else?"
"Yeah. It's..." I hesitate, "I think the cat might be out of the bag about Carol."
Her eyes grow wide. "They know about Carol?" she chokes, her face blanching. "How?"
"When you got hurt, she knew it was Bobby's fault..."
She raises a hand to stop me and closes her eyes. Her head tilts a little to one side and her forehead scrunches; as I watch her eyes move beneath the lids and her frown grow deeper, I can see the entire scene in the Danger Room play across her face.
"Oh my God..." she groans softly. "Carol..."
"I'm sorry, baby."
She opens her eyes. "I can't believe she did that. She blew my cover."
"She was just sticking up for you, darlin'. I know it wasn't the best timing, or how you wanted people to find out, but..."
She leans forward and rests her forehead on my shoulder with a sigh. "How am I supposed to face everyone after that?" she mumbles into my shirt. "What am I going to say?"
I caress her hair and kiss her head. "Why don't you just...tell them the truth?"
She lifts her head. "The truth? You mean the fact that I've got a whole other person living inside my head? That I can absorb a mutant's memories and powers with a single touch? Or how about the fact that half of the powers I possess, all the things that are so useful to X-men, like flying and super strength, were taken from the very person living inside my head because I killed her."
She stands up and begins pacing the room. "God, I can just imagine the looks I'm going to get. I can see the judgment in their eyes already."
"No one is going to look at you like that," I assure her, standing up to follow her across the room.
She stops and faces me squarely. "No? How about when they find out that I've been lying to them, Logan? I've had these powers all this time, and I never told anyone."
"I'm sure you had your reasons..." I say gently. What those reasons are, I've been trying to figure out since day one. I look into her eyes and wait, silently willing her to fill in the blank that I've left for her, hoping she'll open up just a little and give me something to go on. She meets my gaze for a long moment, then breaks away, turning to look out the window.
She's torn as usual, and as usual, her default is to withdraw in silence; it's expected, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. Patience, I remind myself. Though I just want to spin her around by the shoulders and demand answers, I know it's not the way. She needs me to be her rock right now, and that's what I'm going to do.
Without a word, I step closer and wrap my arms around her from behind, kissing her shoulder.
"It's ok," I whisper.
She places her hands on my forearms, closing her eyes as I gently envelope her in the safety of my embrace. I'll take care of you.
I hold her like that for several minutes, arms wrapped protectively around her, kissing her temple as the tension in her body slowly begins to ease.
I nuzzle her hair, lowering my head to place a gentle kiss behind her ear. I feel her hand move, lightly tracing my forearm with her fingertips. It's the smallest of touches, but it's enough send a light tingle through my body.
She smells so good. I continue nuzzling her hair, placing soft kisses behind her ear and down her neck. She draws in a breath through parted lips, goosebumps appearing on her skin where I've left a trail of kisses.
Her reaction sends another spark through me, settling low in my body and making me hard. I shouldn't be doing this to her; she needs to rest. Physical comfort is always something we have been able to fall back on when the words just won't come. But she needs emotional comfort, not this.
Even as these thoughts go through my mind, my lips find the soft, warm skin of her neck again. I shouldn't be doing this, I chide myself; but it doesn't stop me from darting the tip of my tongue out to taste her. A low rumble rises in my chest, and I taste her again.
A soft whimper escapes her lips and her fingers press into my arms as my kisses become less gentle and more urgent. My hand slides across the smooth fabric of her camisole, cupping her breast. I flick a thumb over her nipple and she moans.
My hardened cock strains against my jeans, and I press it insistently into the curve of her backside. I can smell the need rolling off of her. Instinctively my mouth seeks out the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. She tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck to me in submission, and I'm helpless to stop myself. The animal comes life, and all restraint is gone. I sink my teeth into her flesh firmly, holding her still as my other hand slides under her panties. She gasps in pleasure as I massage her clit, her hand flying down to grasp mine.
I move my other hand from her breast to turn her face to me, plundering her mouth with a ravenous kiss.
Breaking away, I guide her closer to the window, and bend her forward, placing her hands on the windowsill. She looks over her shoulder, her lips wet and swollen, watching me with desire as I unzip my jeans. I slide her panties down to her knees and nudge her feet apart.
I take a moment to savor this beautiful sight; gliding my hands over her thighs, palms following the curve of her ass, then the swell of her hips...every inch of her skin feels like silk. I move my hands slowly along the curve of her small waist, gritting my teeth as I grasp it firmly and pull her closer, grinding my rock hard erection against her. She moans in response, and I growl, reaching further up her body and grasping harder.
"Oh!" she suddenly yelps, hissing in pain.
My eyes snap upward, catching her expression. Her face is twisted in a grimace for a second, before she hurries to smooth it away so that I can't see it.
"Are you ok?"
"I--I'm fine. Don't stop," she says, rubbing her bottom against my erection. "Please..."
In that moment, the lusty haze is broken, as I realize why she had cried out. She's injured. Even though I can't see the physical evidence, her ribs must be bruised from the Sentinel attack--and in my moment of passion, I've hurt her.
I look up and see our reflection in the dark window. Her small form, bent over with hands on the windowsill, a hulking animal standing behind her, ready to satisfy his own sexual appetite. Bastard.
"Stand up, baby." I gently raise her up and straighten out her panties and camisole. She looks up at me with questioning eyes as I pull her close.
"What's wrong?"
Tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear, I caress her cheek. "I'm sorry."
She tilts her head to one side. "Sorry for what?"
"For being a selfish bastard. For making you do this. I should be comforting you, but instead I'm only thinking about what I want. All the things I want to do to you..."
"Oh, Logan..." she reaches up and touches my sideburn, tracing her fingers down through the hair along my jaw. "You're the furthest thing from selfish. And you're not making me do anything."
"You're giving me too much credit, darlin'."
A little smile curves at the corner of her mouth. "C'mon," she says, taking my hand. She gives me a small tug, leading me towards the bed. "Lay with me. Just like this." She turns to her side and pats the spot behind her, beckoning me.
I lay down behind her, and she snuggles back into my body. I'm still hard, and my cock presses against her as she pushes back with her bottom. Suppressing a groan, I gently wrap my arm around her waist and shift my hips back.
"Stay," she insists, placing a hand on my hip. She wiggles back, pressing herself against my erection again.
"Darlin', I'm trying to do the right thing here, and you're not makin' it easy. It's hard to comfort you when all I want to do is fuck you till you can't see straight."
"Why can't you do both?" She takes my hand and places it on her breast. "This is comfort." She moves my hand down between her legs. "This is comfort, too."
"I don't want to hurt you," I say, stilling my hand.
"You won't. Just start off slow, like this," she murmurs, slowly rolling her hips, pressing my fingers against her clit. She moans softly, rubbing her backside against my cock, and I close my eyes at the sensation. "Please, Logan...."
Unable to resist temptation any longer, I place several kisses on her back and shoulder. Carefully, I lift her leg, then guide my cock slowly into her slick heat.
"Yes--more..." she whimpers.
I push my cock in further, thrusting at the end until I'm all the way in, and she moans in appreciation. I begin a slow, even pace, sliding almost all the way out and then back in again.
It's a carefully measured, slow thrust so as to not hurt her, but at the same time, it's an incredibly intense sensation. My body is spooned around hers as I move within her, and the intimacy of it surprises me.
She gasps in pleasure when I hook my arm under her knee, shifting it higher and burying myself deeper. I slowly begin increasing my pace. I can smell and feel her getting closer, and I struggle to maintain control.
She reaches her hand down between her legs, seeking her release. With a cry, she falls over the edge, and I follow her immediately, filling her completely with one final thrust of my hips.
Withdrawing slowly, I gently lower her leg, then slide my arm around her waist, holding her close to my chest. She sighs with contentment and rests her arm over mine.
"That was somethin' else, wasn't it?" she purrs.
"Yes it was," I rumble softly in her ear.
"I know it wasn't how you intended to comfort me initially...but it was what I needed. You're always there for me, Logan, giving me what I need, whether you understand my reasons or not. And that means a lot to me."
I kiss her shoulder. "I'm always here for you, darlin'."
She squeezes my hand. "Thanks, sugar."
Several moments pass in contented silence as we come down from the high. With each passing minute, though, those feelings of contentment are replaced by the question lingering in both our minds.
"So...are you going to talk to them?" I ask. I softly caress her belly, tracing slow circles around her navel. I love the way her stomach dips just a little right there.
She says nothing for a few moments. "I'm worried about what they're going to say. Worried what they're going to think when they find out I've been hiding something from them."
"I think you're going to find that they're a lot more understanding than you give them credit for. Every mutant at Xavier's has a history, and believe me, no one is perfect. Not even old One-Eye. We've come from all walks of life, and we've all been accepted as family."
"Family. Are you sure it's not more like a group of people conveniently given a place to live, made to feel like they belong, simply because they have useful powers?
Her question knocks me for a loop. "What do you mean?"
She turns herself over to face me. "I mean, mutants are a valuable commodity, Logan. If you have mutants working for you, you have power. Everyone knows it...including the Professor."
I stare at her, at a loss for words.
"Just the other day I saw a news story," she continues, "about how several countries are building up their armies with special mutant divisions in a race to become the most powerful. It used to be 'don't ask, don't tell'; but now it's become this elite thing to join, and mutant recruitment is at an all time high. How is Xavier's any different?"
"Xavier's is different because the Professor cares. His mission in life is to help mutants."
"But it doesn't hurt if the mutants he helps can return the favor by devoting themselves to his cause," she points out. "The Professor has basically created his own elite task force."
"First and foremost, this is a school, darlin'."
"Future elite task force incubator," she retorts.
I blink a few times. "You can't believe that."
Her expression softens and she sighs. "I don't know what I believe, Logan." She touches my chest, absently running her fingers through the hair. "I know the Professor is like a father to you; the X-team is your family. They've been nothing but good to me so far, and for that I'm grateful. But you can't tell me that I would have a home here if I didn't have such useful powers. I've been around the block, sugar, and nothing is for free; especially not for people like us."
I stare at her for a moment, trying to comprehend this sudden turn in the conversation. "What's this all about, darlin'? I thought we were talking about Carol."
She caresses my muttonchops, stroking the bristles along my jaw. "We are but...like I told you once before, the less people know about me the better. If they don't know about my powers, then they can't use those powers."
I take her hand and kiss her fingers. "Marie, baby...this isn't Weapon X. No one wants to use you here. We're teammates, but we're also family; and your worth is not determined by what you can contribute."
She casts her eyes downward, unwilling to meet my gaze. "C'mon..." I lift her chin to make her look at me. "Give these geeks a shot, huh?"
A tiny smile touches her lips, and reluctantly she nods. "I'll try. For you, Logan."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Shadows from the past are beginning to appear more frequently, taking their toll on Rogue.