Rogue had felt more stable in her life. But she has some cold juice and a cushy, albeit hideously colored brown and grey, sweatshirt, and a date with a trashy novel on the bookshelf. Though finding Terry in a painfully familiar situation derailed her plan somewhat. She padded over, setting her drink down, then knelt.
Rogue's voice startles her right out of them, and even though she knows she isn't at harm, her body still reacts. She slaps the comic shut and shifts back a few inches as she turns to face Rogue. Usually Terry isn't the sort to startle, but she usually isn't reliving memories she's done her best to lock away for her own sanity, either.
"Don't," Terry says, reaching out to close the book Rogue's got a hand on. The cover isn't as bad, at least; a team shot of X-Force that gives nothing of the personal details inside away. "I've skimmed a few. Most of 'em."
Meredith's known for a long time now, but for the most part, it slips her mind. A lot of her friends are fictional, she's fictional; it's part of life here and she's had far too long to get used to it. She could have said something when Theresa mentioned the X-Men ages ago, but it just seemed better to avoid it altogether and then she forgot. Mostly. Seeing Theresa with the comics reminds her, though. "That's... a lot of comics."
Meredith has no real place in the world Terry's reliving, and when she hears her, she looks up, shaking her head to clear it of all the resurfacing memories.
"There's more," she says, gesturing vaguely to the relatively small pile she's got in front of her, and once the words stop she has to make a concentrated effort to stop. "This one is X-Factor, and those are X-Force, and the X-Force, I found one that's number ninety-one. There are nearly a hundred separate comics of X-Force that have me in them. And there are the X-Men ones, and lord knows what else is out there, or who's reading all about me."
Of course the bookshelf couldn't just give her Batman or something. Meredith considers sitting, then thinks better of it, hovering off to the side. She doesn't want to look at those, doesn't want to know anything but what Theresa will tell her.
"We should get rid of them," she says. "It won't stop them showing up, but it'll probably feel good for like a minute. You were busy."
"Lot's happened over the years," Terry replies, and she starts to gather up the books. When she flips each one closed, she gives the covers a quick scan, trying to see how any of this would appeal. Then again, she's probably the last person to decide that. "Get rid of 'em how?"
Sometimes the past doesn't matter. Sometimes all that matters is the present -- the here and now -- because sometimes whatever personal grievances we've suffered in a former life pale in comparison to a newer tragedy. Seeing Terry on the floor of the rec room surrounded by comics, I'm not sure this qualifies just yet... but that I'm willing to stick around and find out speaks volumes in itself.For months, Jamie had kept his distance. Whether this had been for Terry's benefit or his own was a matter of debate, but the fact remained the same -- he'd kept his distance from Theresa Cassidy ever since he'd arrived on this godforsaken island, and even in their newfound, tentative civility, he had never actively sought her out, preferring instead to leave their meetings to chance. Had she just been reading, he might have passed her by without so much as hello, but even the briefest of glances had been enough to tell him that that wasn’t the case. Kneeling in front of her, he quickly searched her face to get a better read of the situation,
( ... )
Terry can count on one hand the number of people she'll ever be somewhat okay with sharing any of this, and Jamie is probably top of that list. They have their problems -- which is putting it lightly -- but in this, she probably wouldn't want anyone else.
The X-Factor part, anyway.
There are some things she's been through that Terry won't have to explain, and the pages she holds up for Jamie to see is one of them. "Comics aren't supposed to do this," she says, and it's a struggle to keep her voice even. "They're for kids. They're not supposed to show this."
Of everything she's dealing with right now, it's the showing part Terry's having the hardest time with.
"Pretty sure Frank Miller would disagree with you," Jamie replied, letting X-Factor #1 fall back onto the floor when Terry's issue proved more interesting. He treated a representation of his life about as well as he treated the real thing -- carelessly and without regard.
Back home, he'd only seen the aftermath of what had happened that day, but he didn't need any further explanation than the edge in her voice to understand just what he was looking at. A familiar surge of anger flared up inside him, but there was nothing to take it out on save the bookshelf, and so for the moment he settled for clenching his hands into fists.
"I don't know," Terry says, closing the comic in her hands and letting it fall to the floor, face down. She doesn't know what she's going to do with all of these, but whatever she chooses, that one is going first. "There's X-Factor, and X-Force. It's...everything. Every awful thing I can remember is right here."
And there're probably just as many for Jamie, as well. For everyone they know.
There's a greeting on the tip of Rahne's tongue when she walks into the rec room and towards Terry, but she hesitates instead when she sees the look on Terry's face, choosing instead to head towards her and see what's wrong. That last part turns out to be a mistake. Because it isn't just Terry she sees on the pages of a $#@&ing comic book, but herself, too, and a conversation that she remembers having.
Whatever it means, she isn't going to think about it more than is necessary.
"Christ, Terry," she sighs, taking a seat beside her without waiting to be invited. Whether she wants company or not, this isn't the sort of thing anyone should have to go through alone, and she isn't the only one this affects; it's all of them. She even manages to lay a hand gently on Terry's shoulder, though the other balls into a fist at her side. "Ye just found all these?"
This isn't just all her, Terry realizes. The X-Force, that's Cable, too. X-Factor is just as much Jamie and Rahne's business as it is hers, though just about everything on the floor's got to do with Terry.
"Everyone one of 'em," she confirms, closing the one in her lap as she reaches out to show Rahne the one she's picked out as the first X-Factor. They all look absurd.
Rahne traces the fingertips of her hand, lowered again from Terry's shoulder, over the cover of the issue, the faces that are too familiar. All the color has faded from her face and she's pretty sure she's about to be sick. It isn't this team, though, that she's thinking about. If one of them is in a comic, they all must be, and there's only one thing that means.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she murmurs tightly instead of saying any of that. There's plenty going on without getting into her own problems. Her fingernails are digging into her palm, leaving deep indentations, but it feels good, too, like there's some relief to be had in it. "Happens to enough other people around here. Doesn't make it easy."
"They're not even good," Terry says, fixing on something for lack of anything positive. She doesn't need to be a mind reader to know Rahne's taking this about as well as she is.
"Look," she says, tracing her finger over who she assumes is supposed to be herself on the cover. "I'm blonde. Least, I think that's me."
"Oh, that's just trouble looking for a place to happen." If Pepper knew the look on Terry's face, it wasn't because she'd ever been a superhero, or had any sort of otherworldly power aside from the force of will required to corral Tony Stark on a daily basis; no, it was because she viewed that damned bookshelf with equal parts reverence and fear, having been in the same place with the same aghast look, if not quite so messy about it.
"I'm not looking at them, I'm just tidying," she clarified as she stooped to pluck the various comics up off the floor. "If you find one with me in it and it claims I'm sleeping with Tony Stark, do me a favor and burn it, would you?"
"Noted," Terry says a bit distractedly, not truly paying attenion to what she's just agreed to. She trusts Pepper, knows she's telling the truth, but just seeing her hold the comics is enough to make Terry's skin crawl.
"I can grab those," she says, gathering the few left strewn on the floor with one hand, the other stretched out for the ones Pepper's picked up. "Thanks."
Pepper hands the books over easily, and looks down to Terry with a sigh. "Should I bother asking if you're in them? You've got that look, the one that says you've just discovered anyone could have read all the most intimate details of your life."
Comments 119
"...Terry? Sugar?"
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"Saints, Rogue, warn a lass next time, aye?"
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"Sugar... how many o'those 've you read?"
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"There's more," she says, gesturing vaguely to the relatively small pile she's got in front of her, and once the words stop she has to make a concentrated effort to stop. "This one is X-Factor, and those are X-Force, and the X-Force, I found one that's number ninety-one. There are nearly a hundred separate comics of X-Force that have me in them. And there are the X-Men ones, and lord knows what else is out there, or who's reading all about me."
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"We should get rid of them," she says. "It won't stop them showing up, but it'll probably feel good for like a minute. You were busy."
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The X-Factor part, anyway.
There are some things she's been through that Terry won't have to explain, and the pages she holds up for Jamie to see is one of them. "Comics aren't supposed to do this," she says, and it's a struggle to keep her voice even. "They're for kids. They're not supposed to show this."
Of everything she's dealing with right now, it's the showing part Terry's having the hardest time with.
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Back home, he'd only seen the aftermath of what had happened that day, but he didn't need any further explanation than the edge in her voice to understand just what he was looking at. A familiar surge of anger flared up inside him, but there was nothing to take it out on save the bookshelf, and so for the moment he settled for clenching his hands into fists.
"I don't even... How many of these are there?"
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And there're probably just as many for Jamie, as well. For everyone they know.
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Whatever it means, she isn't going to think about it more than is necessary.
"Christ, Terry," she sighs, taking a seat beside her without waiting to be invited. Whether she wants company or not, this isn't the sort of thing anyone should have to go through alone, and she isn't the only one this affects; it's all of them. She even manages to lay a hand gently on Terry's shoulder, though the other balls into a fist at her side. "Ye just found all these?"
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"Everyone one of 'em," she confirms, closing the one in her lap as she reaches out to show Rahne the one she's picked out as the first X-Factor. They all look absurd.
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"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she murmurs tightly instead of saying any of that. There's plenty going on without getting into her own problems. Her fingernails are digging into her palm, leaving deep indentations, but it feels good, too, like there's some relief to be had in it. "Happens to enough other people around here. Doesn't make it easy."
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"Look," she says, tracing her finger over who she assumes is supposed to be herself on the cover. "I'm blonde. Least, I think that's me."
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"I'm not looking at them, I'm just tidying," she clarified as she stooped to pluck the various comics up off the floor. "If you find one with me in it and it claims I'm sleeping with Tony Stark, do me a favor and burn it, would you?"
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"I can grab those," she says, gathering the few left strewn on the floor with one hand, the other stretched out for the ones Pepper's picked up. "Thanks."
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