Fic: "Ghosts", Scott, Rogue. Rated T, for Summers_Fling
Title: Ghosts
Author: Sionnain
Characters: Scott, Rogue. Scott/Jean.
'Verse: XMMF, set post X2 and pre-X3
Rating: Teen
Summary: Scott and Rogue share ghost stories.
Request: rock and roll, motorcycles, and Rogue as a friend and team member (not as a student)
AN: Thanks to Likeadeuce for the beta and the Scott/Jean song suggestion! K. Marie, darling, I know Rogue is technically a student, but I tried to make sure their interaction wasn't typical teacher/student, without making it inappropriate (yes, I know, are you shocked?). This is rather angsty, but I do hope you like it!
Ghosts
'In life, love gnawed my skin
To this white bone;
What love did then, love does now:
Gnaws me through.'--Sylvia Plath
Scott doesn't think anyone is going to be in the garage, and so he's surprised to see her there, dressed in dark clothes and standing in the middle next to his motorcycle. For half a second, he thinks she's a ghost. Then he sees the locks of white framing her face, eyes wide and afraid.
"Rogue," Scott says quietly, coming into the garage and closing the door behind him. "Awfully late for you to be up, isn't it?"
It's almost two in the morning, on a Friday night. Technically, there is no curfew for the older students on the weekends, but that doesn't mean Rogue should be here. She doesn't look like she's going to steal a car and drive into town, though. She doesn't look she's doing anything, really. She's standing by his motorcycle, but Scott can't fathom why she's out here at all. It's the kind of confusing behavior that Jean was always good at deciphering, even without telepathy. She'd probably say three words and then somehow, magically, Rogue would follow her inside and that would be that.
"Yeah," Rogue says, and her voice doesn't sound like her; low and tense in a way he doesn't usually hear from her. "I ain't doing anything wrong, Mr. Summers. I mean, I ain't gonna steal your motorcycle and take off." A smile ghosts over her mouth. "Ain't like Logan," she jokes, a little weakly. Her fingers draw through her hair, tucking the streaks of white behind her ears. "You want me to go inside?"
Scott almost says yes, because of course he does. But instead, he steps closer to Rogue, where she's standing next to the bike. This is obviously something more than sneaking out of her room to be alone. There's a book on the ground, resting on a striped blanket. A bottle of juice. Rogue's doing something here, and it's significant, and Scott figures he should find out what it is. She could go anywhere else in the mansion to read. She doesn't have to come out here and sit on the cold concrete floor of the garage.
"Why are you out here?"
She colors a little, standing in the circle of light from the shoplight placed a few inches behind her. "It's...you'll think it's silly," she says, somewhat defensively. For the first time, Scott notices that Rogue's hands are bare. Rogue's hands are always gloved, and it's strange to see them without their usual covering. Almost intimate, somehow. Scott feels like he should look away, for some reason, which is absurd.
"I won't," Scott says, walking over to her. "Promise. You tell me what you're doing, then I'll tell you why I'm out here."
Rogue looks surprised. "I thought maybe I woke you up."
"Yes," Scott says seriously. "You were reading really loud."
She laughs, a little, but Scott can hear that fine thread of tension beneath the sound. "I wake up. At night, a lot. And in my head, there's...well. You know. The people I've absorbed. Sometimes it's Logan, and that's okay. I mean, it's kind of weird, but it's better than--" she swallows. "It's better than him." Rogue wraps her arms around herself and looks away, off into the shadows of the garage.
"Magneto?" Scott asks, unnecessarily.
"Yeah." Rogue heaves a sigh. "Weird to have people in my head. Especially him."
Scott feels a sharp sting at her words, though of course she's not aware of why he's hurt. It's just strange that it's the people in her head that keep her awake, and Scott can't sleep because he's all alone in his. "I bet. So when Magneto shows up, you read in the garage?" He doesn't mean to sound glib, but her words don't make sense.
Rogue steps towards the motorcycle, drawing her fingers over the curve of the metal -- slowly, like a penitent worshiping at an idol. When she speaks, there is something reverent in her voice. "The metal. He likes the metal. If I can give him something he wants, he goes away faster. If I'm in the house, I'm too tempted--" she looks up, coloring slightly. "Um. To go and--visit. People." She isn't looking at him. Scott realizes what she means.
"Wants you to visit the Professor, does he?"
Rogue gives a brief nod, hiding her embarrassment in the fall of her hair for a moment. "Yeah. And it's--he's less intense than it used to be, after Liberty Island." Her fingers are pressed against the dark gleam of the fuel tank; the contrast is striking, even with the vague tint of red that colors the image from his mutation. "But then, I saw Magneto at Alkali..." Rogue trails off, looking uncertain.
Alkali. The Word You Don't Say In Front Of Professor Summers. Like the name of God to a devout Jew. Scott stands next to her, puts his own hand on the bike next to hers.
"Go on," he encourages, sighing. How many of the students are suffering from memories of Alkali and are afraid to bring it up, because of him?
"Magneto. He--he likes this place. This garage. He has a happy memory of it. Working out here, I guess, with the Professor. And with you, too." She sounds surprised, as if she just realizes it. Maybe she does. Scott doesn't understand how Rogue's powers work, when she takes memories. If she can recall them at will, or if they happen without her ability to control them. He thinks it's probably the latter.
Scott's mouth tightens, however, at the thought of his former teacher. He's not forgotten what Magneto tried to do at Alkali. If they'd just rescued the Professor and left the base without having to stop Magneto's attempted genocide, Jean might be alive. He doesn't want to think about the man who used to patiently explain the inner workings of the cars, using his powers to fetch tools and fix any of Scott's mistakes. That was Erik, and Erik is gone. Erik is as dead as Jean, to Scott.
Rogue is looking at him. In the light, there is a curve to her smile that reminds Scott of Erik. That's all right, Scott, don't worry. We'll straighten it up and then you can try again. Not everyone's a genius the first time they try something. Besides, I'm certain I can fix whatever you break. In the glow of the light, Rogue's face looks different. Older, slightly mocking. She gives a soft laugh.
Scott takes an involuntary step back. The resemblance is making him uncomfortable, as if he's a scrawny kid who's a little afraid of Mr. Lehnsherr and wants very badly to impress the older man, too.
Rogue blinks, slowly, lashes veiling her dark eyes. When she looks back at him, she's just Rogue, and her face just looks tired. "See?" she says softly, swallowing visibly. "It's weird. And I don't know what to do. So I try to do things he likes. He likes to read, and he likes metal. And this place has a lot of metal. And good memories. So I stay out here until he's gone, then I go to bed."
Scott puts a hand on her shirt. Rogue flinches, as she tends to do immediately when touched in the simplest of ways. Scott doesn't move his hand. "It's all right. If it works, for you. Want to know why I'm out here? Fair's fair," he says, trying to smile.
Rogue stands quietly beside him, waiting. Scott takes a deep breath and looks over at one of the cars. "Jean. We used to come out here, sometimes. When we were younger. We'd listen to music, on this little portable radio I had. Or we'd sit and make out in one of the cars and listen to cassette tapes, the volume down kind of low, so no one heard us and came looking."
Rogue blushes. "Mr. Summers--you don't have to tell me this. I mean, you can if you want, but I don't want you to have to tell me stuff you don't wanna talk about," she says softly.
Scott should probably not be telling her this. But right now, he's not thinking of her as a student. She's a teammate, but more than that; she's someone who understands what it's like to be kept awake by ghosts. "It's okay. I'm here because I heard this song, tonight. All I want is you. By U2? Some countdown show on VH1 that Bobby and Peter were watching."
"I--I think I know that song, yeah," she says, obviously trying to be supportive and not having a single clue what the song actually sounds like.
He's touched that she's pretending to know it, for him. So she can share his memory, too. "It was kind of our song. The one that we liked the most, on the album. I had it on a cassette? So I heard it, and I couldn't sleep, so I came out here. And I don't know why. The cars are all different. I have no idea what happened to the radio. And all the cars--they have CD players. Everything's different." Scott rakes a hand through his hair, looking around the garage. "Everything's changed."
"It is. Yeah. Does it--does it make you feel better?" Rogue asks cautiously, fingers stroking the handlebars of the motorcycle. "To be out here, I mean."
"Maybe a little," Scott says, thinking. "But not because it's the same. I think it would be worse if it were," he says honestly. But he's not lying; he does feel better, even if it's just a little. He knows it won't last, though. Tomorrow, he will get up and go into the bathroom to shower, and see something of hers he's forgotten all about--that poofy thing she'd insisted on buying for the shower, or some hair product sample she'd gotten at the salon and tossed in the drawer with his razor--and he will feel it again, the pain, fresh and hot like it happened yesterday instead of months ago.
"You know, it'll happen again, I bet," Rogue says wisely,as if she's reading his mind. "To me. And to you."
"Then we'll come back." Scott steps away from the bike. "I guess that's all we can do, Rogue." Maybe this isn't how Jean would have handled the situation, if it were her giving advice to Rogue. Trying to tell Rogue how to sleep, when the terrorist who almost killed her became too loud in her head. But it's how Scott feels, and maybe the truth is better than telling Rogue everything will be fine. Maybe everything won't be fine, not for a long time.
But they're a team. And they'll get through it together. And that has got to mean something, something good and hopeful.
Rogue seems to understand. She leans down and picks up her gloves, pulling them on slowly. "Maybe we could get a deck of cards," she says. "For next time. Since makin' out with me in a car'd get you fired, and dead." She clasps a hand to her mouth, obviously horrified that she's just said that. "Mr. Summers--"
Scott actually laughs. "It's all right, Rogue. Let's go inside. If you're ready, that is. If not, you can stay out here. You won't get in trouble."
She picks up her book and the blanket and the bottle of juice. "Nah. I'm tired, now. Think I can go to bed. You?"
Scott follows her towards the door. "Yeah. I think I can." Maybe that's the truth, or maybe he's just trying to give Rogue some sense of hope that the ghosts will eventually recede. Or maybe, hell, maybe that's what she's doing. Scott flips the switch to turn off the shoplight, leaving the garage in darkness. He thinks about when he and Jean used to do this, when they'd sneak back into the house and he'd go upstairs and have to take a really cold shower. The memory makes him smile , but it hurts, too.
A few days later, he gets a package from Amazon. Inside is the U2 album Rattle and Hum, with a note from Rogue.
Since all the cars have CD players now.
He smiles his thanks over the table at breakfast. She smiles back. He tries to listen to the album, but it's hard. He leaves it in the CD player though, for the day when he's finally ready to hear it.
Author: Sionnain
Characters: Scott, Rogue. Scott/Jean.
'Verse: XMMF, set post X2 and pre-X3
Rating: Teen
Summary: Scott and Rogue share ghost stories.
Request: rock and roll, motorcycles, and Rogue as a friend and team member (not as a student)
AN: Thanks to Likeadeuce for the beta and the Scott/Jean song suggestion! K. Marie, darling, I know Rogue is technically a student, but I tried to make sure their interaction wasn't typical teacher/student, without making it inappropriate (yes, I know, are you shocked?). This is rather angsty, but I do hope you like it!
Ghosts
'In life, love gnawed my skin
To this white bone;
What love did then, love does now:
Gnaws me through.'--Sylvia Plath
Scott doesn't think anyone is going to be in the garage, and so he's surprised to see her there, dressed in dark clothes and standing in the middle next to his motorcycle. For half a second, he thinks she's a ghost. Then he sees the locks of white framing her face, eyes wide and afraid.
"Rogue," Scott says quietly, coming into the garage and closing the door behind him. "Awfully late for you to be up, isn't it?"
It's almost two in the morning, on a Friday night. Technically, there is no curfew for the older students on the weekends, but that doesn't mean Rogue should be here. She doesn't look like she's going to steal a car and drive into town, though. She doesn't look she's doing anything, really. She's standing by his motorcycle, but Scott can't fathom why she's out here at all. It's the kind of confusing behavior that Jean was always good at deciphering, even without telepathy. She'd probably say three words and then somehow, magically, Rogue would follow her inside and that would be that.
"Yeah," Rogue says, and her voice doesn't sound like her; low and tense in a way he doesn't usually hear from her. "I ain't doing anything wrong, Mr. Summers. I mean, I ain't gonna steal your motorcycle and take off." A smile ghosts over her mouth. "Ain't like Logan," she jokes, a little weakly. Her fingers draw through her hair, tucking the streaks of white behind her ears. "You want me to go inside?"
Scott almost says yes, because of course he does. But instead, he steps closer to Rogue, where she's standing next to the bike. This is obviously something more than sneaking out of her room to be alone. There's a book on the ground, resting on a striped blanket. A bottle of juice. Rogue's doing something here, and it's significant, and Scott figures he should find out what it is. She could go anywhere else in the mansion to read. She doesn't have to come out here and sit on the cold concrete floor of the garage.
"Why are you out here?"
She colors a little, standing in the circle of light from the shoplight placed a few inches behind her. "It's...you'll think it's silly," she says, somewhat defensively. For the first time, Scott notices that Rogue's hands are bare. Rogue's hands are always gloved, and it's strange to see them without their usual covering. Almost intimate, somehow. Scott feels like he should look away, for some reason, which is absurd.
"I won't," Scott says, walking over to her. "Promise. You tell me what you're doing, then I'll tell you why I'm out here."
Rogue looks surprised. "I thought maybe I woke you up."
"Yes," Scott says seriously. "You were reading really loud."
She laughs, a little, but Scott can hear that fine thread of tension beneath the sound. "I wake up. At night, a lot. And in my head, there's...well. You know. The people I've absorbed. Sometimes it's Logan, and that's okay. I mean, it's kind of weird, but it's better than--" she swallows. "It's better than him." Rogue wraps her arms around herself and looks away, off into the shadows of the garage.
"Magneto?" Scott asks, unnecessarily.
"Yeah." Rogue heaves a sigh. "Weird to have people in my head. Especially him."
Scott feels a sharp sting at her words, though of course she's not aware of why he's hurt. It's just strange that it's the people in her head that keep her awake, and Scott can't sleep because he's all alone in his. "I bet. So when Magneto shows up, you read in the garage?" He doesn't mean to sound glib, but her words don't make sense.
Rogue steps towards the motorcycle, drawing her fingers over the curve of the metal -- slowly, like a penitent worshiping at an idol. When she speaks, there is something reverent in her voice. "The metal. He likes the metal. If I can give him something he wants, he goes away faster. If I'm in the house, I'm too tempted--" she looks up, coloring slightly. "Um. To go and--visit. People." She isn't looking at him. Scott realizes what she means.
"Wants you to visit the Professor, does he?"
Rogue gives a brief nod, hiding her embarrassment in the fall of her hair for a moment. "Yeah. And it's--he's less intense than it used to be, after Liberty Island." Her fingers are pressed against the dark gleam of the fuel tank; the contrast is striking, even with the vague tint of red that colors the image from his mutation. "But then, I saw Magneto at Alkali..." Rogue trails off, looking uncertain.
Alkali. The Word You Don't Say In Front Of Professor Summers. Like the name of God to a devout Jew. Scott stands next to her, puts his own hand on the bike next to hers.
"Go on," he encourages, sighing. How many of the students are suffering from memories of Alkali and are afraid to bring it up, because of him?
"Magneto. He--he likes this place. This garage. He has a happy memory of it. Working out here, I guess, with the Professor. And with you, too." She sounds surprised, as if she just realizes it. Maybe she does. Scott doesn't understand how Rogue's powers work, when she takes memories. If she can recall them at will, or if they happen without her ability to control them. He thinks it's probably the latter.
Scott's mouth tightens, however, at the thought of his former teacher. He's not forgotten what Magneto tried to do at Alkali. If they'd just rescued the Professor and left the base without having to stop Magneto's attempted genocide, Jean might be alive. He doesn't want to think about the man who used to patiently explain the inner workings of the cars, using his powers to fetch tools and fix any of Scott's mistakes. That was Erik, and Erik is gone. Erik is as dead as Jean, to Scott.
Rogue is looking at him. In the light, there is a curve to her smile that reminds Scott of Erik. That's all right, Scott, don't worry. We'll straighten it up and then you can try again. Not everyone's a genius the first time they try something. Besides, I'm certain I can fix whatever you break. In the glow of the light, Rogue's face looks different. Older, slightly mocking. She gives a soft laugh.
Scott takes an involuntary step back. The resemblance is making him uncomfortable, as if he's a scrawny kid who's a little afraid of Mr. Lehnsherr and wants very badly to impress the older man, too.
Rogue blinks, slowly, lashes veiling her dark eyes. When she looks back at him, she's just Rogue, and her face just looks tired. "See?" she says softly, swallowing visibly. "It's weird. And I don't know what to do. So I try to do things he likes. He likes to read, and he likes metal. And this place has a lot of metal. And good memories. So I stay out here until he's gone, then I go to bed."
Scott puts a hand on her shirt. Rogue flinches, as she tends to do immediately when touched in the simplest of ways. Scott doesn't move his hand. "It's all right. If it works, for you. Want to know why I'm out here? Fair's fair," he says, trying to smile.
Rogue stands quietly beside him, waiting. Scott takes a deep breath and looks over at one of the cars. "Jean. We used to come out here, sometimes. When we were younger. We'd listen to music, on this little portable radio I had. Or we'd sit and make out in one of the cars and listen to cassette tapes, the volume down kind of low, so no one heard us and came looking."
Rogue blushes. "Mr. Summers--you don't have to tell me this. I mean, you can if you want, but I don't want you to have to tell me stuff you don't wanna talk about," she says softly.
Scott should probably not be telling her this. But right now, he's not thinking of her as a student. She's a teammate, but more than that; she's someone who understands what it's like to be kept awake by ghosts. "It's okay. I'm here because I heard this song, tonight. All I want is you. By U2? Some countdown show on VH1 that Bobby and Peter were watching."
"I--I think I know that song, yeah," she says, obviously trying to be supportive and not having a single clue what the song actually sounds like.
He's touched that she's pretending to know it, for him. So she can share his memory, too. "It was kind of our song. The one that we liked the most, on the album. I had it on a cassette? So I heard it, and I couldn't sleep, so I came out here. And I don't know why. The cars are all different. I have no idea what happened to the radio. And all the cars--they have CD players. Everything's different." Scott rakes a hand through his hair, looking around the garage. "Everything's changed."
"It is. Yeah. Does it--does it make you feel better?" Rogue asks cautiously, fingers stroking the handlebars of the motorcycle. "To be out here, I mean."
"Maybe a little," Scott says, thinking. "But not because it's the same. I think it would be worse if it were," he says honestly. But he's not lying; he does feel better, even if it's just a little. He knows it won't last, though. Tomorrow, he will get up and go into the bathroom to shower, and see something of hers he's forgotten all about--that poofy thing she'd insisted on buying for the shower, or some hair product sample she'd gotten at the salon and tossed in the drawer with his razor--and he will feel it again, the pain, fresh and hot like it happened yesterday instead of months ago.
"You know, it'll happen again, I bet," Rogue says wisely,as if she's reading his mind. "To me. And to you."
"Then we'll come back." Scott steps away from the bike. "I guess that's all we can do, Rogue." Maybe this isn't how Jean would have handled the situation, if it were her giving advice to Rogue. Trying to tell Rogue how to sleep, when the terrorist who almost killed her became too loud in her head. But it's how Scott feels, and maybe the truth is better than telling Rogue everything will be fine. Maybe everything won't be fine, not for a long time.
But they're a team. And they'll get through it together. And that has got to mean something, something good and hopeful.
Rogue seems to understand. She leans down and picks up her gloves, pulling them on slowly. "Maybe we could get a deck of cards," she says. "For next time. Since makin' out with me in a car'd get you fired, and dead." She clasps a hand to her mouth, obviously horrified that she's just said that. "Mr. Summers--"
Scott actually laughs. "It's all right, Rogue. Let's go inside. If you're ready, that is. If not, you can stay out here. You won't get in trouble."
She picks up her book and the blanket and the bottle of juice. "Nah. I'm tired, now. Think I can go to bed. You?"
Scott follows her towards the door. "Yeah. I think I can." Maybe that's the truth, or maybe he's just trying to give Rogue some sense of hope that the ghosts will eventually recede. Or maybe, hell, maybe that's what she's doing. Scott flips the switch to turn off the shoplight, leaving the garage in darkness. He thinks about when he and Jean used to do this, when they'd sneak back into the house and he'd go upstairs and have to take a really cold shower. The memory makes him smile , but it hurts, too.
A few days later, he gets a package from Amazon. Inside is the U2 album Rattle and Hum, with a note from Rogue.
Since all the cars have CD players now.
He smiles his thanks over the table at breakfast. She smiles back. He tries to listen to the album, but it's hard. He leaves it in the CD player though, for the day when he's finally ready to hear it.