The Unquiet Affair of Rachel Grey and Nathaniel Essex (9/10), Rated MA
Title: The Unquiet Affair of Rachel Grey and Nathaniel Essex, Chapter 9.
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: 616, though occurs before current Uncanny arc and will obviously be AU.
Pairing: Rachel Grey/Nathaniel Essex (Rachel/Sinister)
Rating: MA
Warning: Naughtiness, but no other warnings.
Summary: In order to save her family and friends from Sinister's machinations, Rachel Grey decides to do something daring and agrees to stay with him for a month's time, in the hopes he'll finally leave her and her family alone for good.
AN: Many thanks to Resolute for the beta, and Willowaus for cheerleading me through :)
I have a brief author's note here, about Faye Livingstone, the woman to whom Rachel refers in this chapter. It was reading about Sinister and his involvement with Faye that made me suddenly interested in the character beyond the cartoonish villain he is depicted as being. In the 1930's, Essex met her in California and fell in love with her. He never told her his feelings for her, and in fact, denied ever having them. Faye, who knew what sort of man he was after Essex forced her to see the truth about him, nevertheless was heartbroken when he made her leave him, and consequently never married. Canon tells us that she died alone in a nursing home, and yet, every year, was visited by a "Mr. Essex." Faye Livingstone died in his arms, after the two shared a telepathic dance together.
I admit it. I read that, and was hooked, though the story involves kidnapping and a variety of other unsavory things. But hey, that's sort of my MO, so. ::G::
You can read the blurb here, under the cut. Copied from Wikipedia.
In the 1930s, Essex spent some time in California, gathering subjects for his experiments; while in Los Angeles, he met and fell in love with radio comedienne Faye Livingstone, though he never admitted his feelings. Discovering his secret laboratory one night, Essex confronted her with the truth-she carried the x-factor in her genes, and her offspring would produce special children, children that would be more than human. Horrified, Faye tried to leave, but Essex kept her prisoner.
Months passed, filled with degrading examinations; affected pity gave way to foul contempt. Essex broke her in mind and spirit, and made her (not let her) see behind the illusion that was Nathan Essex. Then, in the middle of a raging storm one night, Essex flung the door open and released her, without speaking or gesturing.
In time, Faye was brought to the Carlysle Nursing Home in San Diego, California, her mind & body falling to cancer. Due to her love for Essex, Livingstone had never married, and never had children. The offspring Sinister so eagerly anticipated never came to exist. Once a year, a Mister Essex would come and visit her, though he would never admit to anyone (not even himself) why. Genesis forced Sinister to confront both her and himself about the relationship, but Sinister refused, adamantly maintaining that she was nothing more than a useless husk to him. After sharing a telepathic dance with Essex, Faye died in his arms.
Finally, the story Essex tells Rachel about his transformation into Sinister is canon, as is the reason why he chose his name.
To read from the beginning: Chapter 1. (Includes brief background on the characters if you'd like to read but are unsure who the heck these people are!)
Chapter 9
Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me--something seizing, surprising and revolting-- this fresh disparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce it; so that to my interest in the man's nature and character, there was added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, his fortune and status in the world.--Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Chapter 9.
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Rachel felt a flash of anger, and then she decided that she wasn't going to let him get away with callously dismissing her like that. She found his location telepathically with a quick scan, and stormed up the stairs to his bedroom. She didn't bother knocking. He was standing at the window, looking out at the darkened city below, and he didn't even turn around when she entered. "Get out."
"No," Rachel said, crossing her arms. "Why should I? You have never left my family alone when we've tried to make you stop kidnapping us for breeding stock."
"I do not want you for breeding stock," Sinister snapped. She was pleased to hear the fine-edge of anger in his voice.
"No? Then what do you want me for? Because you do want me, and you can't pretend you don't."
"Can I not? Would you like to watch me?"
Rachel actually stomped her foot. "What is your problem? It's not like I want to be attracted to you. It's not like I want you to be the only person I've ever met who can make my brain shut up for more than three minutes. Do you think I came here intending for any of this to happen? I just wanted to protect my family, my friends, from you. And now..." she gave a harsh laugh. "I just betrayed everything I ever held dear. For what? So you could get me off? Because it wasn't about calming me down at all, it was about the fact I wanted your hands on me and you wanted to put them there."
He turned to her, face impassive, but the energy swirling around him was anything but. "Yes, well, I assure you none of this happened on purpose." He raked a hand through his hair so hard, Rachel nearly winced in sympathy. Then she remembered that she still sort of hated him, was a little afraid of him, and wanted him to take her to bed very, very badly. Sympathy for the devil was not in the program at the moment.
"I don't even really like you," Rachel pointed out, as if she sort of had to. "I mean, you're evil."
"You are obnoxiously ill-mannered, entirely too over-dramatic, and you are impulsive to the point of idiocy." He took a step closer. Rachel did as well, refusing to back up, refusing to allow him to subdue her or chase her away.
"Yeah? You're hardly a prize, either, Essex," she muttered, hands on her hips. "You have no idea about how your actions affect others, you're a sociopath and you don't care about anyone, not even really yourself, and your house is too cold and your furniture sucks."
"I do hope you are not trying to hurt my feelings." He smirked at her. "Because I do not have any."
"Yeah, about that? You're wrong." Rachel laughed tauntingly. "You do feel things, you just like to pretend you don't. You think I'm annoying because I annoy you. You also touched me earlier because you want me. Go ahead and lie and tell me it's not true."
"I am not dead," Sinister growled. "Emotions and physical needs are quite different."
"Right," Rachel drawled. "You have no emotions, but you have needs. Sure. So that's why, when you had to have known that I'd have let you bend me over that desk and fuck me six ways to Sunday, that's why you teleported out of there faster than I could blink."
"There is a flaw in your argument," Sinister informed her archly.
Rachel waited with her arms crossed. "What is it?"
"Perhaps I took my pleasure of you already and erased your mind."
That was the absolute, most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Rachel clapped a hand to her mouth to cover her sudden, wild giggling. It didn't work. "Do...you...really...mean...that?"
"No, but I am trying to find something that will convince you to go away, and it seemed possibly as if it may work." He looked disgruntled. It just made Rachel laugh harder. He surprised her by crossing to her and grabbing her arm in a painful, vise-like grip. "What is it that you want, Rachel? Do you want me to take you to bed?"
She stopped laughing, her entire body suffused with heat. She stared him straight in his eyes and nodded. It was pretty stupid to lie about it. "Yes. That's what I want."
"Despite the fact you know full well what sort of man I am?"
She nodded again.
"So that you may hate yourself even more than you already do, in the morning?"
That was so out of the realm of her thoughts that she wasn't sure, for a moment, what to say. "What? No."
His fingers were still digging cruelly into her arm. "Right. I am to believe that, when all you want are reasons so that you may be punished. What better thing to prove your lack of self-worth than sleeping with someone with no redeeming values whatsoever?" His mouth twisted. "Am I all you think you deserve?"
Rachel was shocked. She stared at him with her mouth open. "Would it matter, to you? If all of that were true? If you wanted me--" and he did, he wasn't shielding his thoughts from her and she could almost taste his hunger for her, his desire to hurt her and make her cry out in pleasure and pain--"And you were really this emotionless monster you keep saying you are, then why the hell would you care?"
His eyes glowed nearly black, but he didn't answer.
Rachel pressed onward. "You wouldn't care. You'd be behind me right now and you'd be doing everything to me that I can see in your mind you want to do. But you're not, so what am I supposed to think, Nathaniel?"
"Stop calling me that," he hissed. Things began rattling in the room; the lamp on his bedside table, the silver round mirror on the wall.
"It's your name," Rachel said quietly, refusing to allow him to scare her.
"You know nothing about me. Oh, you may know what you have heard of me, or what you have seen, but you know only a fraction of what kind of man I am, Rachel. Not just Sinister, but Essex. Do you know why I have chosen to call myself the name that I have?" He dragged her over to the bed and threw her down on it, but Rachel didn't think he was going to join her there.
"No," she answered honestly, staring up at him.
"My wife, Rebecca, was pregnant. It was our second child. Our first had died of a genetic disease, and I was determined that the second not share his fate. So I tried, as a scientist, to find out what had killed him. I needed to know. Do you know what I--Nathaniel Essex, this name you keep insisting upon using--do you know what I did?" He was breathing very fast, his hands clenched at his sides.
Rachel shook her head slowly in answer.
"I removed the body of my dead son from his grave, and experimented upon his corpse." He didn't flinch as he said it.
Rachel winced, and he noticed. "Yes, terrible, is it not? I also hired men to kidnap people from the streets of London so that I could continue my work. This was all before I met Apocalypse, you understand. My willingness to do such terrible things on behalf of furthering my research is why he wanted me in the first place. When Rebecca learned of all the horrors which I had wrought--when she saw our dead son's decomposing body on the table in my laboratory--she had a heart attack. I killed her and our unborn child. She said one word to me, and then she died in my arms."
"Sinister," Rachel whispered. "That's the word she said to you." The rest of the story slid into place as she saw the memories he was no longer trying to hide. "You kept it so that you wouldn't forget." She shook her head as if trying to clear it. "You did it all to save your unborn child, and you killed everyone you loved in the process. That's..." she trailed off, because Rachel wasn't sure there was an adjective for that.
"Sinister?"
She smiled humorlessly. "Yeah. That."
"My point in telling you this story is that I was never a good man. Not when I was Nathaniel Essex, and certainly not now." With that, he thrust a barrage of images at her, and Rachel fell back against the bed under the onslaught as she was forced to endure the memories of the past hundred and forty-six years of his life. And they were all horrible, just as she knew they would be. She saw too many things, all orchestrated by him, including everything he'd done to her family. To Gambit. To her father. To Maddie. To Cable. To children whose names he did not know and did not care to know. There was almost too much to process, but she didn't pull away. She lay back and let him give her what he would, until he finally wrenched his mind from hers and stumbled backwards.
When it was over, the only sound was the ticking of the clock in the room as Rachel struggled to pull herself together. She eventually sat up and looked over at him, where he was standing.
He was staring at her coldly. "Now look at me and tell me you want to go to bed with me. Want me to touch you. And not just because you want a reason to hate yourself in the morning. You see, Rachel, I know why you want this. I am the ultimate punishment for every sin you think you have committed. But you have not been responsible for one-tenth of the horrors which I have, even with your unsavory history as a murderous Hound, and if I am a punishment, girl, I am far too worse of one for you."
Slowly, Rachel stood up. Her legs were shaking. "Why are you trying to spare me? I don't get it. Why do you care?"
"You are missing the point of this conversation," he said from between clenched teeth.
"No, I think you are. Look, I know you're not a good man. I pretty much figured you weren't one to start with, and I guess I was right. But I still don't understand why you are so determined to save me from myself." Rachel stopped a few feet in front of him, as the stay away from me vibe he was emitting was very strong. "Wouldn't a truly evil man just fuck me and let me worry about my own issues later?"
"Stop trying to make me someone I am not," Sinister said clearly.
"I'm not," Rachel said, though she was beginning to realize maybe she should just leave and forget this entirely. "Believe me. I know who and what you are. Even if you hadn't have given me the grand tour of Sinister's Greatest Hits, I would have gotten it." She heaved a sigh. "I'll leave if you want me to. I'm not going to beg you to sleep with me. But I am going to say this and you can either believe it our not, I don't really care." She approached him and stared straight up at him, her chin tilted. "Yes, Nathaniel, Sinister, whatever name you want--I would still go to bed with you. I would still let you touch me. Even knowing what I do. And if you don't believe me, then why don't you use your goddamn telepathy and see that I'm not lying about it."
"I know that you would," he said, and there was something almost strangled about his words. "But I have made you a promise that I shall honor. I may have a skewed definition of honor, little girl, but I do have one. And I am not going to be the reason why you hate yourself in three months time. That was not our bargain. You have upheld your end and allowed me to do my research, and I mean to uphold mine."
Just like that, Rachel realized what had happened. She realized what the Phoenix meant, and she realized what gift of Apocalypse which she had laid to waste. Though to be fair, it wasn't just her. There had been someone else, before her, long dead now. Someone who had begun this, who had chipped away at his resolve and made him care about something. Someone. Her face glimmered for a moment in her mind, the edges dulled a bit with the natural passage of time. Not her memory. His. "Nathaniel. I'm not her. I'm not going to leave and waste away in some nursing home because you're an idiot."
Rachel actually fell backwards as a wave of psychic energy knocked her backwards. She'd really pissed him off, now. Rachel smiled and licked her lips, staring up at him as he advanced towards her. "That's what really makes you angry, isn't it? That despite the fact you're this evil soulless being--and trust me, I really do believe you--you are still incapable of being as dispassionate as you would want. You were in love with Faye, and you can't admit it, because you can't admit that maybe you actually felt something for someone. Well, listen up, I know all about stunting one's emotions when you think you'll die if you have to feel another thing. And all you'll ever be is alone."
"A scenario with which I am quite comfortable. I want you out of my house," he hissed at her, but she didn't believe him. As angry as he was--and there was no denying he was utterly furious--she was unafraid of him.
"No you don't. You said that to her. You threw the door open and you stood there and let her go." The images were coming, fast and furious, but she didn't know if she was seeking them herself or if he were remembering them, and too angry to block her intrusion. "But she died in your arms, when you went to visit her. And I think you told her, at the end, when she was dead. When it didn't matter anymore, because you couldn't be attached any longer." Rachel got to her feet and advanced, fighting him with her own psychic powers. "She wasn't a match for you, Essex, even though she loved you."
"She had less of an idea than you about who I was. She was in love with some man of her own devising, an alias. She wanted some half-invented version of me that did not exist. When I forced her to see who I really was, she despised me."
"But she still loved you, and you know it. And besides, I'm not her." Rachel grinned fiercely at him. "Now are you going to stay there arguing with me, or will you please fuck me like I've been wanting?" She sent every single lustful, decadent fantasy she'd had about him--and a few she invented on the spot--right into his mind, and she waited. He was strong, and he had a strength of will equal to few people she'd ever met.
But Rachel was pretty certain he was going to break. The Phoenix purred in her mind, pleased. Rachel held her arms out. "I know what you want to do to me. Go ahead. I'll like it. You know I will. That's what is keeping you up at night, making you drink wine and forcing you to play the piano to relax. Well, I have a better cure for your restlessness. It's what we both want. I have seen who you are--Sinister, Essex, whatever--and I still want you. So get over here and take me already, or I will walk out that door like she did. But I'm not going to sit around and pine over you for decades, for fuck's sake. Life's too short. At least, for me it is. Take what I'm offering now or don't. But make up your goddamned mind already."
He crossed the room in two steps and yanked her against him, and his mouth was on hers and his hands were tearing at her shirt before she could manage a single moment of triumph at his capitulation. "Stop me," he growled against her mouth.
"No." She kissed him back and jumped up in one lithe, graceful gesture, and straddled his waist, crossing her ankles against his back. He moved forward and slammed her against a wall, and she moaned as the pain danced over her skin. "Yes. God. Finally."
He pulled back to look at her while he roughly tore her bra off--he did something with his powers to make the straps disintegrate, a nifty trick--and his hands closed over her breasts and pulled at her nipples. "You are so incredibly vexing." He kissed her again. His mouth was hot, though his hands were still cold.
Rachel didn't care. This was better than being whipped, better than anything. He wanted her so badly she was drowning in it. She managed to get his shirt off so she could scratch her nails down his back, which he liked, and she didn't think she'd ever raked them across anyone's skin as hard as she did to him. "I still kind of hate you," she informed him breathlessly as he managed to somehow get her jeans off of her and toss them aside. He was kissing her neck, pushing himself against her insistently.
"I know." He bit her on the other side of her neck. So they'll match. Was that her thought, or his? It didn't matter, really. "I do not mind, so much." His fingers twisted at her nipples, and then his hand went between her legs again, feeling how wet she was through the soft material of her panties.
"Hurry. Foreplay later," she yanked on his hair, and freed it from his neat queue so that it swung free around his face. "Now, Essex."
She expected him to turn around and throw her back down on the bed, but evidently he wasn't inclined to wait that long. He reached down and unfastened his trousers, and Rachel concentrated and removed her panties with her powers, and now she was naked, and--yes, he was pressing against her and he was hot and hard and then he was thrusting inside of her, fucking her hard against the wall, and it hurt because it had been a long time and he was ridiculously strong, but it was good and his skin wasn't so cold now, and she wanted him to keep doing that, thrusting hard like was, like he was trying to fuck her through the wall and out the other side--
His hand slammed against the wall by her head and he stared at her while he took her, and she never closed her eyes the whole time, and it was over almost as fast as it had started. She scratched him and he bit her again, and when she came she tightened her legs and nearly saw stars and the pleasure was so intense she found herself holding her breath, for a long second, and the world was dissolving in flashes of white.
His body went still for a moment and then tensed, and then he drove inside of her with one last, brutal thrust and spilled himself with a low gasp. His skin was damp with sweat and she'd scratched him so hard she'd drawn blood. Her body hurt, but she'd never felt so good. His face was buried in her neck and she was idly stroking his back, which was smeared with blood from her scratches. She could feel his heart pounding as he recovered his breathing.
He raised his head and looked at her. "I should have made it to the bed."
"Victorian sensibilities be damned," Rachel pronounced, though her voice was still sort of shaky.
"No, it is not that," he said, and she'd never heard his voice so drowsy. "I believe I hit the wall so hard I put a hole in it." He turned his head to see. "Yes, yes I did."
Rachel giggled, the sound a little manic. "Oh. I can fix that." She concentrated, and the material righted itself without a hint that it had been disturbed. "There you go."
"Well. Aren't you useful."
"Sinister, did you just use a contraction?" She gasped in mock surprise.
"A first time for everything." He moved, surprisingly gently, disentangling himself from her. Rachel uncrossed her legs, wincing at the pain, and stood unsteadily on her feet as she looked at him.
"Um." What did they do now?
He smiled, and while it wasn't one of those creepy forced smiles of his--though how she knew the difference, she wasn't sure--it still made her a little nervous. "Did all your plans end after you managed to get me into bed?"
"Well, we're not really in bed," Rachel pointed out. She took a long moment to look at him, standing naked in front of her. It took her a second to realize he was doing the same to her. "It's hard to know where you are looking."
"Probably why Apocalypse decided not to give me any pupils."
Well. This was awkward. Rachel swallowed and looked around. "Would you like to do that again? Maybe in the bed this time?"
"Immensely. However, I am quite famished. For something other than you at the moment." He turned and went to his armoire, pulling out clothing. She almost asked him for a shirt, since hers were ruined, but he threw her one before she asked.
There were advantages to being with another telepath. Even an evil one.
They both paused when they were dressed. "This is going to be hard," Rachel said quietly. She didn't want to really think about it, but there was no denying that if they continued whatever they'd started--
She stopped, suddenly. Maybe this was it. Maybe there would be nothing to continue, after tonight. Rachel didn't know if that was what she was afraid of, or what she wanted. God.
He paused by the door. "I would think you know me better than to assume I am ever going to let you go. I did warn you about that. You of all people should know how obsessive I am about things. Come along."
That sounded ominous. Rachel followed him out of the bedroom. She'd worry about it later.
Chapter 10: The Conclusion
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: 616, though occurs before current Uncanny arc and will obviously be AU.
Pairing: Rachel Grey/Nathaniel Essex (Rachel/Sinister)
Rating: MA
Warning: Naughtiness, but no other warnings.
Summary: In order to save her family and friends from Sinister's machinations, Rachel Grey decides to do something daring and agrees to stay with him for a month's time, in the hopes he'll finally leave her and her family alone for good.
AN: Many thanks to Resolute for the beta, and Willowaus for cheerleading me through :)
I have a brief author's note here, about Faye Livingstone, the woman to whom Rachel refers in this chapter. It was reading about Sinister and his involvement with Faye that made me suddenly interested in the character beyond the cartoonish villain he is depicted as being. In the 1930's, Essex met her in California and fell in love with her. He never told her his feelings for her, and in fact, denied ever having them. Faye, who knew what sort of man he was after Essex forced her to see the truth about him, nevertheless was heartbroken when he made her leave him, and consequently never married. Canon tells us that she died alone in a nursing home, and yet, every year, was visited by a "Mr. Essex." Faye Livingstone died in his arms, after the two shared a telepathic dance together.
I admit it. I read that, and was hooked, though the story involves kidnapping and a variety of other unsavory things. But hey, that's sort of my MO, so. ::G::
You can read the blurb here, under the cut. Copied from Wikipedia.
In the 1930s, Essex spent some time in California, gathering subjects for his experiments; while in Los Angeles, he met and fell in love with radio comedienne Faye Livingstone, though he never admitted his feelings. Discovering his secret laboratory one night, Essex confronted her with the truth-she carried the x-factor in her genes, and her offspring would produce special children, children that would be more than human. Horrified, Faye tried to leave, but Essex kept her prisoner.
Months passed, filled with degrading examinations; affected pity gave way to foul contempt. Essex broke her in mind and spirit, and made her (not let her) see behind the illusion that was Nathan Essex. Then, in the middle of a raging storm one night, Essex flung the door open and released her, without speaking or gesturing.
In time, Faye was brought to the Carlysle Nursing Home in San Diego, California, her mind & body falling to cancer. Due to her love for Essex, Livingstone had never married, and never had children. The offspring Sinister so eagerly anticipated never came to exist. Once a year, a Mister Essex would come and visit her, though he would never admit to anyone (not even himself) why. Genesis forced Sinister to confront both her and himself about the relationship, but Sinister refused, adamantly maintaining that she was nothing more than a useless husk to him. After sharing a telepathic dance with Essex, Faye died in his arms.
Finally, the story Essex tells Rachel about his transformation into Sinister is canon, as is the reason why he chose his name.
To read from the beginning: Chapter 1. (Includes brief background on the characters if you'd like to read but are unsure who the heck these people are!)
Chapter 9
Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me--something seizing, surprising and revolting-- this fresh disparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce it; so that to my interest in the man's nature and character, there was added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, his fortune and status in the world.--Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Chapter 9.
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Rachel felt a flash of anger, and then she decided that she wasn't going to let him get away with callously dismissing her like that. She found his location telepathically with a quick scan, and stormed up the stairs to his bedroom. She didn't bother knocking. He was standing at the window, looking out at the darkened city below, and he didn't even turn around when she entered. "Get out."
"No," Rachel said, crossing her arms. "Why should I? You have never left my family alone when we've tried to make you stop kidnapping us for breeding stock."
"I do not want you for breeding stock," Sinister snapped. She was pleased to hear the fine-edge of anger in his voice.
"No? Then what do you want me for? Because you do want me, and you can't pretend you don't."
"Can I not? Would you like to watch me?"
Rachel actually stomped her foot. "What is your problem? It's not like I want to be attracted to you. It's not like I want you to be the only person I've ever met who can make my brain shut up for more than three minutes. Do you think I came here intending for any of this to happen? I just wanted to protect my family, my friends, from you. And now..." she gave a harsh laugh. "I just betrayed everything I ever held dear. For what? So you could get me off? Because it wasn't about calming me down at all, it was about the fact I wanted your hands on me and you wanted to put them there."
He turned to her, face impassive, but the energy swirling around him was anything but. "Yes, well, I assure you none of this happened on purpose." He raked a hand through his hair so hard, Rachel nearly winced in sympathy. Then she remembered that she still sort of hated him, was a little afraid of him, and wanted him to take her to bed very, very badly. Sympathy for the devil was not in the program at the moment.
"I don't even really like you," Rachel pointed out, as if she sort of had to. "I mean, you're evil."
"You are obnoxiously ill-mannered, entirely too over-dramatic, and you are impulsive to the point of idiocy." He took a step closer. Rachel did as well, refusing to back up, refusing to allow him to subdue her or chase her away.
"Yeah? You're hardly a prize, either, Essex," she muttered, hands on her hips. "You have no idea about how your actions affect others, you're a sociopath and you don't care about anyone, not even really yourself, and your house is too cold and your furniture sucks."
"I do hope you are not trying to hurt my feelings." He smirked at her. "Because I do not have any."
"Yeah, about that? You're wrong." Rachel laughed tauntingly. "You do feel things, you just like to pretend you don't. You think I'm annoying because I annoy you. You also touched me earlier because you want me. Go ahead and lie and tell me it's not true."
"I am not dead," Sinister growled. "Emotions and physical needs are quite different."
"Right," Rachel drawled. "You have no emotions, but you have needs. Sure. So that's why, when you had to have known that I'd have let you bend me over that desk and fuck me six ways to Sunday, that's why you teleported out of there faster than I could blink."
"There is a flaw in your argument," Sinister informed her archly.
Rachel waited with her arms crossed. "What is it?"
"Perhaps I took my pleasure of you already and erased your mind."
That was the absolute, most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Rachel clapped a hand to her mouth to cover her sudden, wild giggling. It didn't work. "Do...you...really...mean...that?"
"No, but I am trying to find something that will convince you to go away, and it seemed possibly as if it may work." He looked disgruntled. It just made Rachel laugh harder. He surprised her by crossing to her and grabbing her arm in a painful, vise-like grip. "What is it that you want, Rachel? Do you want me to take you to bed?"
She stopped laughing, her entire body suffused with heat. She stared him straight in his eyes and nodded. It was pretty stupid to lie about it. "Yes. That's what I want."
"Despite the fact you know full well what sort of man I am?"
She nodded again.
"So that you may hate yourself even more than you already do, in the morning?"
That was so out of the realm of her thoughts that she wasn't sure, for a moment, what to say. "What? No."
His fingers were still digging cruelly into her arm. "Right. I am to believe that, when all you want are reasons so that you may be punished. What better thing to prove your lack of self-worth than sleeping with someone with no redeeming values whatsoever?" His mouth twisted. "Am I all you think you deserve?"
Rachel was shocked. She stared at him with her mouth open. "Would it matter, to you? If all of that were true? If you wanted me--" and he did, he wasn't shielding his thoughts from her and she could almost taste his hunger for her, his desire to hurt her and make her cry out in pleasure and pain--"And you were really this emotionless monster you keep saying you are, then why the hell would you care?"
His eyes glowed nearly black, but he didn't answer.
Rachel pressed onward. "You wouldn't care. You'd be behind me right now and you'd be doing everything to me that I can see in your mind you want to do. But you're not, so what am I supposed to think, Nathaniel?"
"Stop calling me that," he hissed. Things began rattling in the room; the lamp on his bedside table, the silver round mirror on the wall.
"It's your name," Rachel said quietly, refusing to allow him to scare her.
"You know nothing about me. Oh, you may know what you have heard of me, or what you have seen, but you know only a fraction of what kind of man I am, Rachel. Not just Sinister, but Essex. Do you know why I have chosen to call myself the name that I have?" He dragged her over to the bed and threw her down on it, but Rachel didn't think he was going to join her there.
"No," she answered honestly, staring up at him.
"My wife, Rebecca, was pregnant. It was our second child. Our first had died of a genetic disease, and I was determined that the second not share his fate. So I tried, as a scientist, to find out what had killed him. I needed to know. Do you know what I--Nathaniel Essex, this name you keep insisting upon using--do you know what I did?" He was breathing very fast, his hands clenched at his sides.
Rachel shook her head slowly in answer.
"I removed the body of my dead son from his grave, and experimented upon his corpse." He didn't flinch as he said it.
Rachel winced, and he noticed. "Yes, terrible, is it not? I also hired men to kidnap people from the streets of London so that I could continue my work. This was all before I met Apocalypse, you understand. My willingness to do such terrible things on behalf of furthering my research is why he wanted me in the first place. When Rebecca learned of all the horrors which I had wrought--when she saw our dead son's decomposing body on the table in my laboratory--she had a heart attack. I killed her and our unborn child. She said one word to me, and then she died in my arms."
"Sinister," Rachel whispered. "That's the word she said to you." The rest of the story slid into place as she saw the memories he was no longer trying to hide. "You kept it so that you wouldn't forget." She shook her head as if trying to clear it. "You did it all to save your unborn child, and you killed everyone you loved in the process. That's..." she trailed off, because Rachel wasn't sure there was an adjective for that.
"Sinister?"
She smiled humorlessly. "Yeah. That."
"My point in telling you this story is that I was never a good man. Not when I was Nathaniel Essex, and certainly not now." With that, he thrust a barrage of images at her, and Rachel fell back against the bed under the onslaught as she was forced to endure the memories of the past hundred and forty-six years of his life. And they were all horrible, just as she knew they would be. She saw too many things, all orchestrated by him, including everything he'd done to her family. To Gambit. To her father. To Maddie. To Cable. To children whose names he did not know and did not care to know. There was almost too much to process, but she didn't pull away. She lay back and let him give her what he would, until he finally wrenched his mind from hers and stumbled backwards.
When it was over, the only sound was the ticking of the clock in the room as Rachel struggled to pull herself together. She eventually sat up and looked over at him, where he was standing.
He was staring at her coldly. "Now look at me and tell me you want to go to bed with me. Want me to touch you. And not just because you want a reason to hate yourself in the morning. You see, Rachel, I know why you want this. I am the ultimate punishment for every sin you think you have committed. But you have not been responsible for one-tenth of the horrors which I have, even with your unsavory history as a murderous Hound, and if I am a punishment, girl, I am far too worse of one for you."
Slowly, Rachel stood up. Her legs were shaking. "Why are you trying to spare me? I don't get it. Why do you care?"
"You are missing the point of this conversation," he said from between clenched teeth.
"No, I think you are. Look, I know you're not a good man. I pretty much figured you weren't one to start with, and I guess I was right. But I still don't understand why you are so determined to save me from myself." Rachel stopped a few feet in front of him, as the stay away from me vibe he was emitting was very strong. "Wouldn't a truly evil man just fuck me and let me worry about my own issues later?"
"Stop trying to make me someone I am not," Sinister said clearly.
"I'm not," Rachel said, though she was beginning to realize maybe she should just leave and forget this entirely. "Believe me. I know who and what you are. Even if you hadn't have given me the grand tour of Sinister's Greatest Hits, I would have gotten it." She heaved a sigh. "I'll leave if you want me to. I'm not going to beg you to sleep with me. But I am going to say this and you can either believe it our not, I don't really care." She approached him and stared straight up at him, her chin tilted. "Yes, Nathaniel, Sinister, whatever name you want--I would still go to bed with you. I would still let you touch me. Even knowing what I do. And if you don't believe me, then why don't you use your goddamn telepathy and see that I'm not lying about it."
"I know that you would," he said, and there was something almost strangled about his words. "But I have made you a promise that I shall honor. I may have a skewed definition of honor, little girl, but I do have one. And I am not going to be the reason why you hate yourself in three months time. That was not our bargain. You have upheld your end and allowed me to do my research, and I mean to uphold mine."
Just like that, Rachel realized what had happened. She realized what the Phoenix meant, and she realized what gift of Apocalypse which she had laid to waste. Though to be fair, it wasn't just her. There had been someone else, before her, long dead now. Someone who had begun this, who had chipped away at his resolve and made him care about something. Someone. Her face glimmered for a moment in her mind, the edges dulled a bit with the natural passage of time. Not her memory. His. "Nathaniel. I'm not her. I'm not going to leave and waste away in some nursing home because you're an idiot."
Rachel actually fell backwards as a wave of psychic energy knocked her backwards. She'd really pissed him off, now. Rachel smiled and licked her lips, staring up at him as he advanced towards her. "That's what really makes you angry, isn't it? That despite the fact you're this evil soulless being--and trust me, I really do believe you--you are still incapable of being as dispassionate as you would want. You were in love with Faye, and you can't admit it, because you can't admit that maybe you actually felt something for someone. Well, listen up, I know all about stunting one's emotions when you think you'll die if you have to feel another thing. And all you'll ever be is alone."
"A scenario with which I am quite comfortable. I want you out of my house," he hissed at her, but she didn't believe him. As angry as he was--and there was no denying he was utterly furious--she was unafraid of him.
"No you don't. You said that to her. You threw the door open and you stood there and let her go." The images were coming, fast and furious, but she didn't know if she was seeking them herself or if he were remembering them, and too angry to block her intrusion. "But she died in your arms, when you went to visit her. And I think you told her, at the end, when she was dead. When it didn't matter anymore, because you couldn't be attached any longer." Rachel got to her feet and advanced, fighting him with her own psychic powers. "She wasn't a match for you, Essex, even though she loved you."
"She had less of an idea than you about who I was. She was in love with some man of her own devising, an alias. She wanted some half-invented version of me that did not exist. When I forced her to see who I really was, she despised me."
"But she still loved you, and you know it. And besides, I'm not her." Rachel grinned fiercely at him. "Now are you going to stay there arguing with me, or will you please fuck me like I've been wanting?" She sent every single lustful, decadent fantasy she'd had about him--and a few she invented on the spot--right into his mind, and she waited. He was strong, and he had a strength of will equal to few people she'd ever met.
But Rachel was pretty certain he was going to break. The Phoenix purred in her mind, pleased. Rachel held her arms out. "I know what you want to do to me. Go ahead. I'll like it. You know I will. That's what is keeping you up at night, making you drink wine and forcing you to play the piano to relax. Well, I have a better cure for your restlessness. It's what we both want. I have seen who you are--Sinister, Essex, whatever--and I still want you. So get over here and take me already, or I will walk out that door like she did. But I'm not going to sit around and pine over you for decades, for fuck's sake. Life's too short. At least, for me it is. Take what I'm offering now or don't. But make up your goddamned mind already."
He crossed the room in two steps and yanked her against him, and his mouth was on hers and his hands were tearing at her shirt before she could manage a single moment of triumph at his capitulation. "Stop me," he growled against her mouth.
"No." She kissed him back and jumped up in one lithe, graceful gesture, and straddled his waist, crossing her ankles against his back. He moved forward and slammed her against a wall, and she moaned as the pain danced over her skin. "Yes. God. Finally."
He pulled back to look at her while he roughly tore her bra off--he did something with his powers to make the straps disintegrate, a nifty trick--and his hands closed over her breasts and pulled at her nipples. "You are so incredibly vexing." He kissed her again. His mouth was hot, though his hands were still cold.
Rachel didn't care. This was better than being whipped, better than anything. He wanted her so badly she was drowning in it. She managed to get his shirt off so she could scratch her nails down his back, which he liked, and she didn't think she'd ever raked them across anyone's skin as hard as she did to him. "I still kind of hate you," she informed him breathlessly as he managed to somehow get her jeans off of her and toss them aside. He was kissing her neck, pushing himself against her insistently.
"I know." He bit her on the other side of her neck. So they'll match. Was that her thought, or his? It didn't matter, really. "I do not mind, so much." His fingers twisted at her nipples, and then his hand went between her legs again, feeling how wet she was through the soft material of her panties.
"Hurry. Foreplay later," she yanked on his hair, and freed it from his neat queue so that it swung free around his face. "Now, Essex."
She expected him to turn around and throw her back down on the bed, but evidently he wasn't inclined to wait that long. He reached down and unfastened his trousers, and Rachel concentrated and removed her panties with her powers, and now she was naked, and--yes, he was pressing against her and he was hot and hard and then he was thrusting inside of her, fucking her hard against the wall, and it hurt because it had been a long time and he was ridiculously strong, but it was good and his skin wasn't so cold now, and she wanted him to keep doing that, thrusting hard like was, like he was trying to fuck her through the wall and out the other side--
His hand slammed against the wall by her head and he stared at her while he took her, and she never closed her eyes the whole time, and it was over almost as fast as it had started. She scratched him and he bit her again, and when she came she tightened her legs and nearly saw stars and the pleasure was so intense she found herself holding her breath, for a long second, and the world was dissolving in flashes of white.
His body went still for a moment and then tensed, and then he drove inside of her with one last, brutal thrust and spilled himself with a low gasp. His skin was damp with sweat and she'd scratched him so hard she'd drawn blood. Her body hurt, but she'd never felt so good. His face was buried in her neck and she was idly stroking his back, which was smeared with blood from her scratches. She could feel his heart pounding as he recovered his breathing.
He raised his head and looked at her. "I should have made it to the bed."
"Victorian sensibilities be damned," Rachel pronounced, though her voice was still sort of shaky.
"No, it is not that," he said, and she'd never heard his voice so drowsy. "I believe I hit the wall so hard I put a hole in it." He turned his head to see. "Yes, yes I did."
Rachel giggled, the sound a little manic. "Oh. I can fix that." She concentrated, and the material righted itself without a hint that it had been disturbed. "There you go."
"Well. Aren't you useful."
"Sinister, did you just use a contraction?" She gasped in mock surprise.
"A first time for everything." He moved, surprisingly gently, disentangling himself from her. Rachel uncrossed her legs, wincing at the pain, and stood unsteadily on her feet as she looked at him.
"Um." What did they do now?
He smiled, and while it wasn't one of those creepy forced smiles of his--though how she knew the difference, she wasn't sure--it still made her a little nervous. "Did all your plans end after you managed to get me into bed?"
"Well, we're not really in bed," Rachel pointed out. She took a long moment to look at him, standing naked in front of her. It took her a second to realize he was doing the same to her. "It's hard to know where you are looking."
"Probably why Apocalypse decided not to give me any pupils."
Well. This was awkward. Rachel swallowed and looked around. "Would you like to do that again? Maybe in the bed this time?"
"Immensely. However, I am quite famished. For something other than you at the moment." He turned and went to his armoire, pulling out clothing. She almost asked him for a shirt, since hers were ruined, but he threw her one before she asked.
There were advantages to being with another telepath. Even an evil one.
They both paused when they were dressed. "This is going to be hard," Rachel said quietly. She didn't want to really think about it, but there was no denying that if they continued whatever they'd started--
She stopped, suddenly. Maybe this was it. Maybe there would be nothing to continue, after tonight. Rachel didn't know if that was what she was afraid of, or what she wanted. God.
He paused by the door. "I would think you know me better than to assume I am ever going to let you go. I did warn you about that. You of all people should know how obsessive I am about things. Come along."
That sounded ominous. Rachel followed him out of the bedroom. She'd worry about it later.
Chapter 10: The Conclusion