Co-Authored FIC: Amaranthine (1/?)
Title: Amaranthine
Authors: Skyblue Rae & Laenwyn
Genre: Adult, Angst
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Not that it mattered, he already knew her secrets. He knew about her warped bond to Victor Creed. He knew she'd never been able to forget.
A/Ns: Remember "Torn" and "Beyond Redemption"??? Well this is the last installation to the trilogy. We think. Thank you to everyone who has followed the story and thank you also for all the wonderful feedback. These characters have permanently etched themselves into our hearts, so we appreciate you following their tale. When we last left these two, they'd had an encounter that left both of them questioning everything. For anyone who hasn't read the other installations, you may want to look back at them or this fic won't make much sense.
http://skybluerae.livejournal.com/tag/torn
http://skybluerae.livejournal.com/tag/beyond+redemption
Hope you enjoy!
********
Rogue stared up at her ceiling, wishing for the power to will her concerned teammates away. She knew they only wanted to help, but there was nothing they could do.
"I don't care how bad it hurts, no one gives a shit. So if you're in pain, then find a way to deal with it, but you *don't* fall apart for everyone to see."
Professor Charles Xavier waited in the hallway outside Rogue's room. For weeks he'd watched one of his toughest team members slowly fade. Her mutation kept her strong and durable of course, but inside her vitality was waning. She'd turned down every offer he'd made for her to go on missions that would get her away from things, maybe take her mind off Logan and all that had happened.
He'd accepted her decision to stay, but as time went by she was becoming more withdrawn. For as long as he'd known her, she'd valued her privacy, but this - this was different. Finally, when Jubilee and Kitty sought him out, he decided to get to the bottom of things.
When they lost Logan a little over a year ago, Rogue had been devastated but somehow managed to make it through the days. Lately that had changed. There wasn't one team member that didn't notice. At first he thought it might be some kind of post traumatic stress; that she hadn't been able to fully process Logan's death. Maybe there was some truth to that, but that wasn't all of it. When Rogue started to avoid her best friends, he knew there had to be more to it. If anyone had gotten thorough to her in the past, it was Jubilee and Kitty. Neither of the girls had any idea why Rogue was acting the way she was; why she wouldn't let them in.
The door wasn't locked and there was no answer to his knock. Charles knew Rogue wasn't asleep and when his mind brushed hers, she let him know he could enter if he wanted to. Rogue lay curled up on her side and the sight of her tightened Charles' chest. Their tough and independent squad leader was now a ghost of her former self.
He stopped at the side of her bed and remained quiet. Charles' didn't have any children of his own, but he'd always cared for her as if she were his daughter. It was painful to watch her in this state. Stress and insomnia had caused weight loss and although she was still unnaturally strong, one look in her eyes spoke of how weakened she'd become. Charles gently placed a hand on her arm.
Rogue, what's happening to you?
Her distress was so obvious to him. It was so painted on her face that he didn't need to read her mind to know she was hurting. She met his gaze, and the look in those cinnamon eyes was haunted. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but changed her mind and stared out the window.
You can't help me Professor.
He wanted nothing more than to help her get back on her feet. Help her deal with whatever it was that troubled her.
How can you be so sure?
Because ... you can't. I just ... I need to be alone. Please.
Rogue let out a shaky breath. She loved the Professor; he'd always treated her with nothing but respect. Part of her wanted so badly to confess to him what was wrong, but how could he ever understand; much less accept the reason for her mourning? Charles wouldn't accept it if he knew the truth about her run-in with Victor Creed. And he certainly wouldn't understand how she wasn't able to forget about Logan as well as him; Logan's nemesis and sworn enemy to the X-men. The Professor, or any of her team members, would never trust him again. No one was going to understand her connection to Victor.
It was ironic, she thought, that the one person who did get it, was Logan. He'd hated Victor for most of the time they'd known each other, but now he was urging her to go her own way. If she wanted to be with Creed, then he'd have to accept that decision as best he could. He raged at her every day for how she was barely living now. If a connection with Creed would bring his Rogue back, then he'd swallow that bitter pill, but he couldn't tolerate things as they were. The Logan in her head didn't like Creed, but the man was so much like him that Logan knew if anyone would take care of her and push Rogue the way he had, it was Creed.
No, Charles wasn't going to understand that. Rogue wasn't even sure she understood it herself.
Haven't you been alone long enough, Rogue?
Moving his hand up to caress her cheek, Charles let his mutation open up a little bit more. Rogue didn't show any sign that she noticed what he was doing, or maybe it was as he feared - she didn't even care. In the few seconds that followed, before he shut the mental door, a flood of images rushed through him. Most of them old memories from the time when Logan had been alive; the two of them arguing, kissing, making love, fighting, going on missions together, of the time before they were an item - all of those memories were mixed with images of Victor Creed. Some of them made no sense to Charles, and others made him tense and angry. Surely it couldn't be like that. He caught Rogue gazing up at him. Sighing softly he stroked her hair for a while. She looked so small, he thought to himself.
It couldn't be like her mind had shown him. He knew she felt as if there were nothing left for her here. Nothing important enough to drag her back to her old self. Rogue was mourning, Charles realized, but it was a lot worse than he'd assumed.
It's true, isn't it?
Rogue closed her eyes. She didn't want Charles to see she was on the verge of crying. Not that it mattered, he already knew her secrets. He knew about her warped bond to Victor Creed. He knew she'd never been able to forget.
********
Rogue awoke to the noise of someone prowling her room. Her hearing had remained fairly sensitive over the years, but especially sensitive to noises that were so suspicious. She sat up, stunned to find Victor Creed staring back at her from the foot of her bed.
"What -” she began, but he never let her finish.
"You're getting out of here. Now," he barked at her, grabbing for her arm.
"What are you ... wait just a damn minute!" she snapped, jerking her arm back.
She was shocked to see him in the mansion, never mind standing in her bedroom. None of it made sense and she'd be damned if he was going to order her around or try force her anywhere. She'd been sleep walking through the last several weeks of her life, but that didn't mean she was anyone's doormat.
"What are you doing? Why are you here? Are you insane!!!" she hissed at him. He couldn't be here. He could not be here. They'd lock him up. How did he even get in? Rogue's mind was whirling with too many thoughts and questions. She'd never imagined he would willingly set foot anywhere near this place again.
"I ain't got time to argue you with you, Rogue. You just gotta listen to me and not argue for once and get the hell out of here."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Rogue heard shouting from the hallway and the mansion's alarms howled in reply.
"What did you do?" she asked accusingly.
The question and the look on her face was like a poisoned arrow in his chest. Creed shrugged it off though, he should know to expect as much from her. It didn't matter what she thought, she was still leaving with him.
"I didn't do a damn thing," he snarled back, "but come here to save your ass. Now move!"
Rogue crawled from her bed wearing pajama shorts and a tank top, far beyond being modest around him anymore. As she headed for the door to investigate, Creed grabbed her arm again.
"There's no time to play hero. We gotta go," he was already halfway to her balcony door, dragging her behind, before she dug her heels in.
"If my team is in danger, I'm not running. I don't care who's responsible," she insisted.
"Dammit," he growled, "can't you just for once listen to me. I'm trying to protect y-"
His words were cut short by the shattering of her French doors. Darkly camouflaged soldiers spilled into her room, throwing her mind back in time to another attack on the mansion. This time she didn't have to run though, she could fight.
A set of tranquilizing darts hit Rogue in the shoulder as she reached the first enemy. It slowed her down, but not enough to stop her from attacking. She got in several punches, throwing the soldier to the floor, before another round of darts hit her in the back, rendering her unconscious.
Creed didn't think. He acted on pure instinct. He was getting out of there and taking Rogue with him; he never would've come within miles of this place for anything less. With a howl of rage, he grabbed two soldiers at once, relieving both of their weapons and one of his hand. As the one man screamed in agony, Creed felt two darts hit him in the arm.
He slammed the soldier in his hands up against the wall, twisting his neck until he heard a snap. Turning he saw the last one backing away in fear. An evil sneer curled Creed's lips. He was so familiar with that look, didn't they know that look only made it easier for him. Weakness. You should never show weakness. Another dart hit him in the chest, but with no effect. Creed grabbed the last soldier, backing him through the mangled doors and onto the balcony. With little effort he lifted the man up and threw him to the concrete below.
Rushing back inside he found Rogue still quietly breathing and crumpled on the floor. She was out, but unhurt. He rummaged through her closet and saw that his instincts had served him right. On the floor lay a small bag, packed and ready to go. Just like him and exactly like the runt, Rogue had turned into someone that would forever be ready to run. He tossed the bag over his shoulder. Reaching down to scoop her up he saw something that made his blood feel like lightening in his veins. Neatly folded, but still rumpled and worn, his old trench coat stuck out from underneath her pillow.
Creed froze, still stooped over her. He'd sent it back with her, but expected she would've destroyed any evidence of him, at the very least hidden it away. In a way it was hidden, but still so close. Did she keep it there all the time? Did she touch it every night and think of him? It didn't matter.
Shaking his head of the thoughts, he pulled out the coat and wrapped her in it. It smelled more of her now than it did of him, but he wasn't going to think about that at all. Creed lifted her easily, and tossed her into a fireman's carry. He slipped out to her balcony, listening and scanning for more soldiers. From the sound of things inside, they were all in the mansion where all hell was breaking loose. There would be casualties on both sides. Creed didn't care. He had no loyalty to anyone but himself and especially not to the X-Men. He'd come here for one reason only; when he'd heard about the organization's plan to attack the mansion his gut told him to protect her. He didn't question it or what it would mean, her reaction or anything. All he knew was he didn't want anyone taking her away.
With that thought he'd infiltrated the mansion just before the raid, intending to take Rogue with him to ensure her safety. If it'd come to forcing her to leave, well then that's just what he'd do. The tranquilizers had taken care of the coercion, but he had no idea how she'd react when she woke up miles down the road. Didn't matter, he thought, she was safer with him and she'd just have to get that through her thick skull.
With the natural agility of his mutation, Creed effortlessly leapt from her balcony to one beneath and then scaled the side of the mansion, leaping and landing safely on the ground. Silently he sprinted towards the disarmed gate, climbed over and made it to his hidden truck without detection.
Authors: Skyblue Rae & Laenwyn
Genre: Adult, Angst
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Not that it mattered, he already knew her secrets. He knew about her warped bond to Victor Creed. He knew she'd never been able to forget.
A/Ns: Remember "Torn" and "Beyond Redemption"??? Well this is the last installation to the trilogy. We think. Thank you to everyone who has followed the story and thank you also for all the wonderful feedback. These characters have permanently etched themselves into our hearts, so we appreciate you following their tale. When we last left these two, they'd had an encounter that left both of them questioning everything. For anyone who hasn't read the other installations, you may want to look back at them or this fic won't make much sense.
http://skybluerae.livejournal.com/tag/torn
http://skybluerae.livejournal.com/tag/beyond+redemption
Hope you enjoy!
********
Rogue stared up at her ceiling, wishing for the power to will her concerned teammates away. She knew they only wanted to help, but there was nothing they could do.
"I don't care how bad it hurts, no one gives a shit. So if you're in pain, then find a way to deal with it, but you *don't* fall apart for everyone to see."
Professor Charles Xavier waited in the hallway outside Rogue's room. For weeks he'd watched one of his toughest team members slowly fade. Her mutation kept her strong and durable of course, but inside her vitality was waning. She'd turned down every offer he'd made for her to go on missions that would get her away from things, maybe take her mind off Logan and all that had happened.
He'd accepted her decision to stay, but as time went by she was becoming more withdrawn. For as long as he'd known her, she'd valued her privacy, but this - this was different. Finally, when Jubilee and Kitty sought him out, he decided to get to the bottom of things.
When they lost Logan a little over a year ago, Rogue had been devastated but somehow managed to make it through the days. Lately that had changed. There wasn't one team member that didn't notice. At first he thought it might be some kind of post traumatic stress; that she hadn't been able to fully process Logan's death. Maybe there was some truth to that, but that wasn't all of it. When Rogue started to avoid her best friends, he knew there had to be more to it. If anyone had gotten thorough to her in the past, it was Jubilee and Kitty. Neither of the girls had any idea why Rogue was acting the way she was; why she wouldn't let them in.
The door wasn't locked and there was no answer to his knock. Charles knew Rogue wasn't asleep and when his mind brushed hers, she let him know he could enter if he wanted to. Rogue lay curled up on her side and the sight of her tightened Charles' chest. Their tough and independent squad leader was now a ghost of her former self.
He stopped at the side of her bed and remained quiet. Charles' didn't have any children of his own, but he'd always cared for her as if she were his daughter. It was painful to watch her in this state. Stress and insomnia had caused weight loss and although she was still unnaturally strong, one look in her eyes spoke of how weakened she'd become. Charles gently placed a hand on her arm.
Rogue, what's happening to you?
Her distress was so obvious to him. It was so painted on her face that he didn't need to read her mind to know she was hurting. She met his gaze, and the look in those cinnamon eyes was haunted. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but changed her mind and stared out the window.
You can't help me Professor.
He wanted nothing more than to help her get back on her feet. Help her deal with whatever it was that troubled her.
How can you be so sure?
Because ... you can't. I just ... I need to be alone. Please.
Rogue let out a shaky breath. She loved the Professor; he'd always treated her with nothing but respect. Part of her wanted so badly to confess to him what was wrong, but how could he ever understand; much less accept the reason for her mourning? Charles wouldn't accept it if he knew the truth about her run-in with Victor Creed. And he certainly wouldn't understand how she wasn't able to forget about Logan as well as him; Logan's nemesis and sworn enemy to the X-men. The Professor, or any of her team members, would never trust him again. No one was going to understand her connection to Victor.
It was ironic, she thought, that the one person who did get it, was Logan. He'd hated Victor for most of the time they'd known each other, but now he was urging her to go her own way. If she wanted to be with Creed, then he'd have to accept that decision as best he could. He raged at her every day for how she was barely living now. If a connection with Creed would bring his Rogue back, then he'd swallow that bitter pill, but he couldn't tolerate things as they were. The Logan in her head didn't like Creed, but the man was so much like him that Logan knew if anyone would take care of her and push Rogue the way he had, it was Creed.
No, Charles wasn't going to understand that. Rogue wasn't even sure she understood it herself.
Haven't you been alone long enough, Rogue?
Moving his hand up to caress her cheek, Charles let his mutation open up a little bit more. Rogue didn't show any sign that she noticed what he was doing, or maybe it was as he feared - she didn't even care. In the few seconds that followed, before he shut the mental door, a flood of images rushed through him. Most of them old memories from the time when Logan had been alive; the two of them arguing, kissing, making love, fighting, going on missions together, of the time before they were an item - all of those memories were mixed with images of Victor Creed. Some of them made no sense to Charles, and others made him tense and angry. Surely it couldn't be like that. He caught Rogue gazing up at him. Sighing softly he stroked her hair for a while. She looked so small, he thought to himself.
It couldn't be like her mind had shown him. He knew she felt as if there were nothing left for her here. Nothing important enough to drag her back to her old self. Rogue was mourning, Charles realized, but it was a lot worse than he'd assumed.
It's true, isn't it?
Rogue closed her eyes. She didn't want Charles to see she was on the verge of crying. Not that it mattered, he already knew her secrets. He knew about her warped bond to Victor Creed. He knew she'd never been able to forget.
********
Rogue awoke to the noise of someone prowling her room. Her hearing had remained fairly sensitive over the years, but especially sensitive to noises that were so suspicious. She sat up, stunned to find Victor Creed staring back at her from the foot of her bed.
"What -” she began, but he never let her finish.
"You're getting out of here. Now," he barked at her, grabbing for her arm.
"What are you ... wait just a damn minute!" she snapped, jerking her arm back.
She was shocked to see him in the mansion, never mind standing in her bedroom. None of it made sense and she'd be damned if he was going to order her around or try force her anywhere. She'd been sleep walking through the last several weeks of her life, but that didn't mean she was anyone's doormat.
"What are you doing? Why are you here? Are you insane!!!" she hissed at him. He couldn't be here. He could not be here. They'd lock him up. How did he even get in? Rogue's mind was whirling with too many thoughts and questions. She'd never imagined he would willingly set foot anywhere near this place again.
"I ain't got time to argue you with you, Rogue. You just gotta listen to me and not argue for once and get the hell out of here."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Rogue heard shouting from the hallway and the mansion's alarms howled in reply.
"What did you do?" she asked accusingly.
The question and the look on her face was like a poisoned arrow in his chest. Creed shrugged it off though, he should know to expect as much from her. It didn't matter what she thought, she was still leaving with him.
"I didn't do a damn thing," he snarled back, "but come here to save your ass. Now move!"
Rogue crawled from her bed wearing pajama shorts and a tank top, far beyond being modest around him anymore. As she headed for the door to investigate, Creed grabbed her arm again.
"There's no time to play hero. We gotta go," he was already halfway to her balcony door, dragging her behind, before she dug her heels in.
"If my team is in danger, I'm not running. I don't care who's responsible," she insisted.
"Dammit," he growled, "can't you just for once listen to me. I'm trying to protect y-"
His words were cut short by the shattering of her French doors. Darkly camouflaged soldiers spilled into her room, throwing her mind back in time to another attack on the mansion. This time she didn't have to run though, she could fight.
A set of tranquilizing darts hit Rogue in the shoulder as she reached the first enemy. It slowed her down, but not enough to stop her from attacking. She got in several punches, throwing the soldier to the floor, before another round of darts hit her in the back, rendering her unconscious.
Creed didn't think. He acted on pure instinct. He was getting out of there and taking Rogue with him; he never would've come within miles of this place for anything less. With a howl of rage, he grabbed two soldiers at once, relieving both of their weapons and one of his hand. As the one man screamed in agony, Creed felt two darts hit him in the arm.
He slammed the soldier in his hands up against the wall, twisting his neck until he heard a snap. Turning he saw the last one backing away in fear. An evil sneer curled Creed's lips. He was so familiar with that look, didn't they know that look only made it easier for him. Weakness. You should never show weakness. Another dart hit him in the chest, but with no effect. Creed grabbed the last soldier, backing him through the mangled doors and onto the balcony. With little effort he lifted the man up and threw him to the concrete below.
Rushing back inside he found Rogue still quietly breathing and crumpled on the floor. She was out, but unhurt. He rummaged through her closet and saw that his instincts had served him right. On the floor lay a small bag, packed and ready to go. Just like him and exactly like the runt, Rogue had turned into someone that would forever be ready to run. He tossed the bag over his shoulder. Reaching down to scoop her up he saw something that made his blood feel like lightening in his veins. Neatly folded, but still rumpled and worn, his old trench coat stuck out from underneath her pillow.
Creed froze, still stooped over her. He'd sent it back with her, but expected she would've destroyed any evidence of him, at the very least hidden it away. In a way it was hidden, but still so close. Did she keep it there all the time? Did she touch it every night and think of him? It didn't matter.
Shaking his head of the thoughts, he pulled out the coat and wrapped her in it. It smelled more of her now than it did of him, but he wasn't going to think about that at all. Creed lifted her easily, and tossed her into a fireman's carry. He slipped out to her balcony, listening and scanning for more soldiers. From the sound of things inside, they were all in the mansion where all hell was breaking loose. There would be casualties on both sides. Creed didn't care. He had no loyalty to anyone but himself and especially not to the X-Men. He'd come here for one reason only; when he'd heard about the organization's plan to attack the mansion his gut told him to protect her. He didn't question it or what it would mean, her reaction or anything. All he knew was he didn't want anyone taking her away.
With that thought he'd infiltrated the mansion just before the raid, intending to take Rogue with him to ensure her safety. If it'd come to forcing her to leave, well then that's just what he'd do. The tranquilizers had taken care of the coercion, but he had no idea how she'd react when she woke up miles down the road. Didn't matter, he thought, she was safer with him and she'd just have to get that through her thick skull.
With the natural agility of his mutation, Creed effortlessly leapt from her balcony to one beneath and then scaled the side of the mansion, leaping and landing safely on the ground. Silently he sprinted towards the disarmed gate, climbed over and made it to his hidden truck without detection.