FAN FIC: X-Men: winter in my heart [unveiled] 3/?
TITLE: Winter in my Heart
FANDOM: X-Men (post X3)
SERIES: UNVEILED (3/?)
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RATING: PG-13 (wtf?)
WORD COUNT: about 3950
WARNINGS: some language
PAIRING: (implied) Rogue/Pyro
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SUMMARY: It's almost dark already, cold, and he figures that's why she's wearing one of his jackets - not that she'd need it, if she actually knew how to control her power better. She's so small, though, so fucking tiny, that it's really more like the jacket is wearing her; she is drowning in it, he notes, and somewhere deep inside him something stirs.
PROMPT: 048 december
TABLE: HERE
SEQUEL to welcome home
A/N: Will I ever shut up? Probably not ---
1. Okay, let's get this over and done. To those of you who read my fic-related rants here on livejournal regularly, well, none of this will be new, but:
First of all? Thanks, guys, for reading and reviewing and liking my stuff. That, of course, makes me glee and gloat insanely and it's definitely the reason I keep writing.
2. I went to bed around 11pm, slept two hours and came back so if I don't make sense at all, well, tough. Anyway, there's one more part to UNVEILED (series) after this particular fic, unless my plans change, but - fear not. For one, by the time I'm done with this series, I know for a solid fact that I have left so many little things and details unexplained and totally on purpose, too… So, to be fair, another damn sequel to the sequel is in order. You're asking me why I simply won't give in and continue UNVEILED with a few more fics, aren't you? Of course, if I was smart, I'd do that, BUT, I don't want to - why make everything so easy, huh? Basically, I don't want to continue the series, because the fics to come would, no matter what, break the flow of the four previous fics... um. Does that clear it up, at all?
Still. Continuing this storyline… well, I think it's not only fair to you guys and to Shelby, but at this point, to Pyro and Rogue too, because hell - after the part following this one -, they and their relationship, if you can call it that, deserves to be explored more carefully. Am I right or am I right? Well. You wouldn't know, would you? I haven't published the said final piece yet. Oh well, give me a few days ::snort::
3. Special thanks go out to
· lilhobbit (aka F aka my X-Men Comics Consultant, honestly) and still for the same reasons. I tell her my problem and she goes over her way to fix it. ::shrugs:: crazy girl.
· infiticus for taking time not only to betaread this thing and therefore making it (and me) better, but for bothering to pick it apart and talk about it for like, um, hours. She's got some pretty amazing suggestions (like the *new* finishing line, mwuahaha!), dude. ::miniwaves::
4. Before you ask who the woman briefly mentioned is or point out that Shelby seems totally freaky in this one… well, I did mention about those details left unexplained, didn't I? Yes. I'll get to the weirdness if (and when) I actually write the follow-up series. Or whatever it'll turn into. This is just my way of leaving you guys -hopefully- wanting more ::rolls eyes::
How evil am I, really?
AND: The previous fics written for 50scenes can be found HERE
DISCLAIMER: The characters you know from X-Men (both movieverse as well as the comics)? NOT MINE. The characters you don't recognize, at all? Guess whose?
WINTER IN MY HEART
He'd asked for so little, honestly.
At least he thought so a moment ago. So when the two mutants John ordered to stay with the kid at all times knock on his door and walk into his office, ashamed, it requires all his willpower not to throw a fucking tantrum and blow them to pieces. Or, technically, torch them to ashes.
He does, however, cock his head to one side in attempt to restrain his anger - a sign the two men recognize all too well and which makes them exchange hesitant glances. At least it seems to work… breathe, swallow, and a fucking repeat. Eventually, it leads to calming down. Okay, there. Good.
"How the fuck can you lose a little girl?" He demands, standing up from behind his desk. It's not like he'd asked them to grow a pair of wings and go find another planet for the mutant race to inhabit… Now, a planet where to stick the humans…now that then again, is definitely a thought worth pursuing, isn't it?
Although, right this minute? Yeah, so, not important.
Back to business; the burning glare he gives his employees makes them gulp in fear - it usually does. Pyro, he's a damn good leader to have when it comes to fighting the enemy or simply pissing someone off, they know that, but they also know you don't want to get on his black list because you don't live long if you do. And well, they're kind of fond of their lives and all. Magneto sure trained him well, didn't he?
The nearly stuttered explanations, they make John smirk - but only on the inside. On the outside he's nothing but hot, liquid anger. Fire.
Well, the way John sees it? These guys sure as hell don't need to know what kind of thoughts he's got storming on his mind right now. It's bad enough they know he once upon a time slept with a damn human and went as far as fathering a child. Unknowingly, sure, but inside their pretty little heads, no one gives a shit about that piece of info in these crowds and he can tell.
Scarlet would call him paranoid -did, actually- but hey, that's what's kept him alive this long. Why throw a good thing away?
Sure, things haven't changed much. Yet. Give it some time and soon no one will remember that when he did find out about her, he chose to stay with his kind, far from her… And the more time goes by, the less they'll fear him… and well, that's not good. And, if some genius actually does dig up the real reason for the distance he kept, well, hello pain and suffering. Goodbye wealth and reputation.
Yeah, the truth is that if he doesn't come up with a way to preserve both the situation and the fear as they are… well, things will simply get ugly, hot and damn conflicted. Two of those he doesn't care for, at all.
He sighs, returning his attention to the expectant figures in front of him.
… But when a few minutes go by without him actually saying anything, the other culprit decides to try and smooth it, "She took us by surprise," he says and if he wasn't talking about a 12-year-old, it might have worked as an explanation - but in this case? Not so much. "She's surprisingly smart," he continues, not realizing how thin the ice underneath him just got, "Cunning, even."
John's eyebrow quirks in sarcasm. Surprisingly smart? Cunning? Imagine that.
Would they take it the wrong way if he snorted and rolled his eyes? Probably.
Oh well. He goes with the snort and lets the roll go.
Of course the kid's fucking cunning and damn smart! She's got his genes, after all, so what the hell did they expect? Idiots. Honestly, were where they when he told them, twice and with the famous glare, that they shouldn't buy anything - not a damn word she says or even let her come too close? The "she's got that killer skin of her mother's now" wasn't clear enough for those dumbass jerks?
Guess not. Fine. Maybe it's time to renew the whole fucking staff, then. He can live with that.
"Go away," John barks after a moment of pensive silence, startling the shaky mutants, "I'll find her myself. Just don't let Rogue know she's missing, alright?" The last thing he needs is Rogue breathing down on his neck like the little mommy tiger she is. He's had his fair share of that already, okay? Yeah, stalking him, bothering him, asking question after question after question - those are practically the only things she's been doing ever since the kid woke up last night and now that he finally got her to attempt resting, there's no way in hell he'll let something like this reach her ears.
Because that if anything would be ugly.
"Think you boys can handle that, huh?" He drawls and the boys are smart enough not to respond the baiting comment and for that, he's glad. They only nod, eyes nailed to the floor, and leave the room quietly.
Fucking great. As if he didn't have enough things on his mind because of the royally fucked up situation, but now he's got to go and find the runaway child, who, obviously, can't take a fucking order? He told her to stay put, didn't he? Yes, he did. The damn doctor told her to stay put. Repeatedly. Rogue told her to stay put… Although, honestly, after recovering from the shock and realizing just what her mother had left untold, the kid hadn't exactly been in the mood to listen to a single word the woman had to say.
Not that he'd blame her. That was to be expected. Running away? That was kind of expected, too, which is exactly why he ordered his men to watch the kid in the first place. Oh, well, you get what you pay for. Never sleep with an X-Man.
The good thing is he only has to think about it for five minutes, if even that, before it becomes perfectly clear to him where she'll most likely be. How he can tell, he doesn't know, but he's got a hunch and that's that.
Man. Some security system upgrading is needed, that's for sure. If they can't even find a little girl without his help, well, then something's obviously wrong. He sighs, wiping his face as if to chase away the exhaustion and then, pushes himself to get on the move.
John finds her from the roof, standing on the edge and looking down.
It's almost dark already, cold, and he figures that's why she's wearing one of his jackets - not that she'd need it, if she actually knew how to control her power better. She's so small, though, so fucking tiny, that it's really more like the jacket is wearing her; she is drowning in it, he notes, and somewhere deep inside him something stirs.
What the hell have they been teaching her in that school of hers anyway if she can't even handle the cold? He'll just have to look into that, won't he?
She heard the door open, recognized the soft creak, and so she knows someone's there, but doesn't look over her shoulder to see who exactly dares to disturb her.
Plus, he has a feeling she knows already.
For a minute and a half John simply stands there in weirdly peaceful silence, but soon enough he finally figures it's time to move. The kid will freeze her ass off soon if they don't.
"What you doing here?" He asks, calm, and closes the door behind him. The wind blows her hair, and his, and yeah, it is damn cold, but it doesn't bother him. Not for long, because the moment the cold starts to eat its way through his skin, his temperature rises on its own and all is good again.
She inhales loudly, almost as if to deliver a point and says, "The view, it's pretty amazing." Pretty self-explanatory, right?
Maybe, but it doesn't sound like something a kid would say and honestly, something about her appearance seems weird, too. Different, somehow - almost as if the truth had added a decade to her age. He frowns and takes a hesitant step closer. Fine, it's true he hasn't spent that much time near her, not this close anyway and he can't deny that… but fuck, he knows her. What is this?
But he lets that go and drags his attention back to her comment… right, the view. Well, considering it's a damn skyscraper and a tall one at that, "Yeah," he agrees softly, "I know it is, but you really don't have to stand on the damn ledge to see it." When she doesn't seem to get the hint -or pretends she doesn't, that is-, John's eyes narrow, flashing, and he takes yet another step forward, only this time determined one. He practically ordered her to move and she knows that… yet nothing happens.
Is she disobeying him? To his face? No, not gonna work, kiddo.
That is why he, with the kind of demanding voice he normally uses only on his employees, adds, "Get down."
"Don't tell me what to do!" Shelby snaps in irritation and throws a dirty glare over her shoulder before returning her eyes to the fall in front of her. When she speaks again, her voice is much composed, flavored with both sadness and anger, but still it's nothing more but a mere statement, "you're not my father."
The fire in his veins surges hotter; the rage washes through. Oh, he isn't? Since when? He knew she'd be there, didn't he? And, hell, he was the one to come after her. He could've just as well told those idiots to come and correct their mistake.
He didn't.
That's got to mean something, even to her.
It might not be on her birth certificate - for which she can't actually blame him anyway, but, "Like it or not, kid, I am," John tells, consciously ignoring the slight sensation of disappointment at her claim. And maybe, just maybe, it's the same disappointment and his attempt to ignore it that makes him chuckle and say, just out of spite, "Actually, I even think it's my genes in that DNA cocktail of yours that told you to come up here. Great place to think and brood, you know."
Like anyone who has spent enough time near Logan, Wolverine, she knows sarcasm when she hears it, but instead of arguing, she surprises him with a surrendering shrug and a question he never knew to expect, "Did you kill them yet?" Now she actually turns around, meeting his eyes in a cold stare - only, from her eyes, the coldness fades away quickly and all that is left is easily detectable curiosity.
"It depends," John responds with a casual shrug of his own, trying not think about how fucking huge the fall will be if she misses a step, "Who?"
And they say he's smart? Whatever. "It's not like they could've done anything to stop me," she goes on with sad voice, "They fear me now."
Ah, right, he gets it then. "Oh, them. No, I didn't kill them," he tells her. Yet.
He should've known, though. So fucking typical for her kid to care about something as meaningless as that. His kid shouldn't, but yeah, trust her to fuck the kid's DNA for good. Like the whole killer skin wasn't enough. Not that he'd have anything against the skin, of course not, but he's got to admit it was different when it was Rogue. But why it was, that's something he chooses not to contemplate.
One question at a time.
"I glared at them, that's all" he continues then, indifferent, "but it seemed to work just the same."
She tilts her head and the way she does, it knots his insides… and makes him go back to the first time he saw her. How the fuck could he not see it then; feel it? Even now, he can sense her, practically smell the fire within and it's the kind of connection he never thought he'd have. Whether it's a good thing or bad, he hasn't decided yet, but it doesn't exactly seem that bad, does it?
"It's not that I care about whether you kill them or not," she says almost as if she'd read his mind and noted he's done with that particular train of thought, "I was just curious."
Okay, how the fuck is he supposed to react to that, huh? What, is he supposed to tell her good because really, she shouldn't care about those guys anyway, she's above them for fuck's sake, or to chide her for being so-
Wait, who the hell is he kidding here?
"Good," he tells meaningfully and smiles faintly. She on the other hand says nothing, just nods, accepting and glances to her side. Another silent moment passes by, only this time with her staring fixedly, away, and with him just watching her. Seeing her.
He knows; feels what she's doing even before she does it. Or, better yet, even before she herself knows it. Maybe it's the connection telling him beforehand, or the years behind him, but the moment she absent-mindedly summons her power and ignites the small flame in her fingers, he's already fixed his anxious gaze upon her hand. At first it's a poor spark, then an uncontrolled flame, but as the realization dawns in and she actually does notice, it morphs into a neat bolt.
Hell, Rogue had told him about this; he'd known what she can do - what he can do, but more and his stomach squeezes with pride and pain and fuck! Still… he's mesmerized; can't look away. So he watches in silence, enjoying the familiar, almost identical way she plays with the bolt… before cruelly suffocating, killing it with her fist.
"Show-off," he snorts, but it comes out somehow wrong. Amused, soft.
That is when she finally looks up and as her eyes catch his again, accusing, the spell is broken - it's like a cold smack against his face and the nearly visible smile disappears completely.
"I used to think they were lies," she says innocently and so child-like, the way she's supposed to be, but he knows better. Something in this picture is so utterly wrong that it makes sick to his stomach, twisting inside. And well, that alone is wrong, because nothing is allowed to make him feel sick. Unless it involves a hangover and-
His eyebrows furrow as a clear sign of confusion. Hold on, what the fuck is she talking about, anyway? And, more importantly, what the hell did those white coats give her? Is that it, is she high on something?
"Yeah, seriously," she insists, though he never even argued, "but that woman, Emma… Frost, whatever her name was, her mind told me differently."
Her mind… told differently? What the fuck?
"About you," the girl continues, explaining and spreads her arms to her side, creating imaginary wings, "About mom."
Okay, that's it. Even he can't handle everything.
"Get down, now," John orders suddenly, strict, but it doesn't come as a surprise to her, "I'm not gonna tell you again."
It's not a lie and she can tell - it's always the same with Mom. The feeling… But something forces her to say otherwise, "Yeah, you will," she tells him defiantly… and, as he notes, smiles maliciously.
Oh, says who? Yeah, wouldn't be too sure about that. The kid obviously doesn't know everything yet - at least nothing of value, he figures, because no one, absolutely no one, gives him a smile -or is that a smirk?- as defiant as that. She'll learn, eventually and he'll make sure of that. Rogue's methods are a thing of a past, that's a stone hard fact.
"Hey, kid," he chucks viciously, "for your information, I'm not afraid of you."
Seriously. Either she's stepping down on her own, right now, or he's forcing her down. And after that, he decides, he'll just drag her downstairs to the infirmary and tell the fucking doctors to do their damn job and figure out what the hell is wrong with his little girl! Also, he'll be sure to point out that they will do that if they care about their pathetic lives, at all, because he's running out of patience and that's never good.
They know that. At least they should.
"It's not like you can stop me either," she points out matter-of-factly, interrupting his unvoiced rambling and for that, John simply gives her a knowing look. That so?
"I didn't fear your mother," he says truthfully, "or her skin and I'm not about to start now."
The claim draws a frown out of the little girl, because while she can tell his words are true, she's still having trouble believing it. Probably because hell, "I could kill you."
She's got a point, naturally, but she's so young and there are so many things she doesn't understand. Life's nothing without a little risk, right? "Yeah, well," he shrugs it off, eyes on her, "a bird could shit on my head any day but it doesn't keep me from going out."
Shelby seems to think his words over, which gives him the most perfect opportunity to close the gap between them and grab her arm. Within a second and with a swift jerk, she's finally off the ledge and on the ground on her knees. He's pretty sure it hurt, a little, but she doesn't let out a single whimper or cry a tear.
That's his girl, all right.
John stays hunched over her, holds her arm firmly to drive his point home and only after a moment, leans closer and tells her, "you're not as tough as you act." But he sure appreciates the effort.
Then, just as suddenly, she's pulled up and onto her own two feet and the minute she is, he takes a step back. John doesn't look apologetic, mainly because he isn't, and she in turn doesn't seem angry like he assumed she would.
Mainly, because she isn't.
But she is curious. "Where is she?" The girl asks, clearly forgetting -or wanting to forget, anyway- the previous subject as well as the stunt he just pulled.
Who, Rogue? Or, he corrects in aftermath, in this case, it'd probably be Marie. "Sleeping," John answers, but cautiously, because you never know… maybe she's trying to distract him, lull him into false sense of security before rushing to claw his eyes out the same way her mother always does… it could be genetic or something. "Or she's trying, anyway," he adds with one-sided shrug.
She bites her bottom lip the way he knows she always does when there's a question ransacking her brain. He's seen it before.
Just ask, kid. Fire away.
"In your bed?"
Okay, stop right there. Admittedly, it's not the question he thought he'd get, but whatever, at least she's still not attacking him. Now… sure, he could tell her the simple truth. He could tell the kid that yes, in his bed, but only because it was the only place where she seemed to calm down enough to sleep - or where he could lure her and lock her into, which is closer to the truth anyway, but instead he sucks his lip thoughtfully before asking, "Why, does it matter?"
The look on Shelby's face doesn't change, it's as indifferent, as empty as it's been throughout most of the conversation. All she does, is shake her head with a quiet "no" while trying to remove the swirling locks from her face by tucking them behind her ear. They don't stay there for longer than a second, though.
She's shivering again, which to John's ardent surprise, is something he actually really doesn't like to see. It brings back last night and he doesn't like that, either.
"Listen," he starts, clearing his throat, "we're gonna sort this out and you're gonna be okay." Technically, it's not a lie. If the obvious weirdness is set aside, she seems pretty okay already. "Your mom's been harassing my men for hours and I'm pretty sure she'll continue that as soon as she's allowed to leave my room."
Which, if he had his way, would be, well, never. Because the moment he unlocks the damn door and lets the furious woman out, she'll be at his face with clenched fists and keep harassing him the same way she's been bothering his staff non-stop and that's something he'd like to avoid by any means necessary. Maybe he could tie her up and-
A whisper interrupts his master plan. "She lied to me," she says, sad.
Yeah, well, welcome to his life. "Yeah, well," John responds cynically, "she had her reasons."
For fuck's sake… why did he tell her that? He isn't supposed to say a word to make it easier for her, not for Rogue. Let the woman clean up her own fucking mess - that's the plan. Or it was.
At least his words have an effect - something in her eyes changes. They come to life and that he does like.
"Why are you defending her?" Shelby asks, voice thick - this time it holds signs of anger and frustration, "Even you hate her for lying."
No, not actually - you see, "I don't hate her, kid," he corrects. He used to hate her? Check. He wants to hate her? Check. "I'm angry at her, furious, pissed off. But between those, there's a big difference, you know."
In all honesty? The only time he's ever hated her… that was when she took the cure. Definite check.
"What's the cure?" She prompts immediately, but he chooses to ignore her question… which, he supposes, is probably not the best option to go with, but fuck, he's not gonna be the one to tell the kid about that. No, not when there's a chance she might damn well want it, in which case, he'd have to also be the one to tell her she can't. Not ever.
So, instead, he goes with the second best option and distracts her by asking a question of his own. "Why did you touch her?" It's actually been bothering him more or less ever since Rogue explained him the details of what happened and well, Magneto did teach him to never let an opportunity go wasted.
She fidgets and brushes her chin against her shoulder to avoid his eyes.
But when she does speak, her eyes return his again - and it makes his skin crawl.
Demanding. Pleading. "Don't tell mom, okay?"
If it was anyone else, any other situation, he'd probably decline for no reason. Actually, not probably - he would decline for no reason and he'd enjoy it, too. But it doesn't occur to him this time… maybe it's okay for him to blame it on the connection, on her genes, on the fact she's got his eyes, because damn, he hears himself agreeing, "Okay."
Suddenly she tears her eyes from his and gazes the floor… and giggles slightly.
He frowns, more than little puzzled. What, she giggled? Alright, interesting… and definitely not something he expected to hear from her mouth. Like, ever again.
When she lifts her chin, this time there's a bright smirk on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes and she says, mischievously and not a bit sorry, "I wanted to burn her brains."
Her words, they bring his trademark smirk back to its rightful throne.
"Yep," John tells her with an amused snort, "Definitely my genes, kid."
And, well, maybe that is exactly what makes Shelby's smirk deepen. "Mine now," she shoots back sarcastically and with a clearly hostile pause, "Dad."