Fic: Unto Others (Marvel Comics, Rictor/Shatterstar)
Title: Unto Others
Author: thinlizzy2
Fandom: Marvel Comics (X-Factor)
Pairing/characters: Rictor/Shatterstar, Rahne/Hrimhari, past Rahne/Rictor
Rating: Soft R
Prompt: Any fandom, any character, He/she was absolutely sure that being gay was wrong, until someone close came out. After quite a bit of thought, he/she decides that the only thing to do is change his/her own mind.
Summary: Rahne is worried about the state of her friend’s soul. Rictor is out, proud and damn well not going to lose any friends over it if he can help it. Shatterstar is just awesome.
Warnings: Child abuse (canon), suicidal thoughts, eating disorder, homophobia, mention of canon character death.
Author's Notes: Written for queer_fest. Jeez, it's been a while since I wrote anything! I forgot how much fun it is!
Everything is awkward now.
It’s not just that she’s done an awful thing; Rahne is - sadly - accustomed to doing awful things now. Sure, lying to Rictor was horrible, but her intentions were good and so she can reconcile herself to it. After all, she was only trying to save him.
And that’s why everything is awkward now.
Because Ric doesn’t want to be saved. He doesn’t want to give up this... whatever this thing is that he has with Shatterstar or ask God for the strength to resist the temptation that the other man apparently holds over him. Rahne has prayed and prayed that he’ll see the light and realize the terrible danger he’s placed his soul in, but Ric has to do his part too. And so far he’s been completely unwilling.
Jamie calls from downstairs, reminding her that the leftover chicken is still in the fridge and she should eat it before it goes bad. Rahne groans but promises to be down in a minute. She knows she should eat; the baby needs her to have three nutritious, well-balanced meals every day. But she loses her appetite when she’s stressed and everything about her current situation is stressful.
Jamie replies that he’ll leave it on the counter; he’s on his way out. Rahne sighs with relief. Things with Jamie are awkward too, ever since he sat her down and gave her that lecture - the one about hate and how hating gay people isn’t all that different from hating mutants. People are born the way they are, he’d told her. None of us can change, even if we want to, and none of us should have to change just to please others. Rahne had tried to explain that she doesn’t hate homosexuals. But she can’t change the will of God and she can’t change the Bible, so all she can try to do is change Ric’s mind. In the end, Jamie had just shaken his head sadly and told her to try and keep her “politics” out of team business.
She passes Ric’s room on the way to the kitchen. She hesitates. In the time before, she would have gone right in without bothering to knock and invited him to eat with her. He would have rustled up that warm potato salad of his, the one dish he actually cooks well, and they would have chatted over their food about films or books or the old days. Slowly, she lifts her hand to the knob.
Through the door, she hears the strangely accented tones of Shatterstar’s voice. Ric’s low laughter follows, and Rahne drops her hand like the door is on fire. Eyes stinging, she hurries to the kitchen.
*
Rictor falls back onto the pillow and closes his eyes. “Fuck”, he mutters.
“I’d like to.” His lover reaches down and rubs at his cock, but Ric knows it’s no use; his head’s in a totally different place.
So he removes Star’s questing hand and holds it up to his lips, kissing the palm in apology. “Sorry, Corazon.”
Shatterstar shrugs. “I can masturbate.” Rictor snorts; he loves Star’s innocent honesty. “But is there a problem?”
“Kind of”, Ric admits. “I can’t stop thinking about Rahne.”
“Oh.” Shatterstar appears to think that over. “Are these thoughts erotic?”
Ric nearly chokes. “Star - no!”
“Good.” Star nods and Rictor raises an eyebrow at him.
“No offense, but you’re the last person who ought to be getting jealous.”
“I’m not jealous”, Star protests. “I just don’t like her. She makes you feel bad.”
“It’s not like that. I mean... I feel bad for her.” Rictor isn’t sure he can put it into words. “She’s had a rough life.”
“So have I”, Shatterstar points out. “So have you. But we don’t set out to convince other people they have fathered our children.”
Ric laughs again. “It would be tricky.”
“She really matters to you, doesn’t she?”
He nods in response. “She was... I dunno... my best friend maybe. More than that, once. And we’ve saved each other’s lives a bunch of times.” He knows Star will understand that; everyday human things can still confuse him but he gets the bond between soldiers with no trouble at all.
“Then you should go talk to her.”
“She might be sleeping. She needs her rest.”
Shatterstar shakes his head. “She is not sleeping. She was outside the door a short while ago, she went to the kitchen and now she is in her bedroom.” He arches an eyebrow at Rictor’s look of surprise. “A good sense of hearing can mean the difference between life and death on Mojoworld, remember?”
“Right.” Rictor stands up and reaches for his shirt. “You really don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” He smiles. “But when you come back, I hope you will be more able to concentrate.”
**
Rahne places the onesies in the top drawer and sets the teddy bear on top of the bureau. She’s never been much of a shopper, but it’s fun to plan for the baby. She imagines him - she doesn’t know why but she’s definitely predicting a boy - snuggling up to the giant bear, his little thumb in his mouth. She’ll read one of the new books to him and then tuck him under the soft green bunny-rabbit blankie that was outrageously expensive and completely impossible not to buy He’ll nod off to sleep and it’ll be so adorable that she’ll have to call for...
Who will she call for? Who’s going to come and watch her baby nap?
She tries not to dwell on this; actually, she tries not to think about it at all. But once the floodgates have opened it’s so hard not to remember that she and her prince should be unpacking these things together, laughing over how adorable their son will look in the clothes and marvelling over the smallness of the shoes. Ever since the first time they met, she’s imagined the birth of their first child. Having him beside her while the doctor cut the cord was always a given. That they won’t ever have that is unbearable and the tears come hot and fast.
“Rahne?”
She whirls around. Rictor is standing in the door of her room; she has no idea how long he’s been watching her. In an instant, he’s crouching in front of her. They very rarely touch these days, but now he’s got her hand clutched in his like it’s nothing at all. “Rahne, what is it? Are you in labour?”
He’s so much himself, so much her sweet, caring Rictor that she can’t even speak around the lump in her throat. She just shakes her head.
“What is it then? Are you in pain? What hurts?”
She knows she shouldn’t confide in him anymore. He isn’t hers these days, not like he used to be. And her soul is in a precarious enough state. She can’t let herself fall in with sinners; she owes her child more than that. But those soft brown eyes are the same ones she used to get butterflies in her stomach over as a teenager; the face still belongs to the boy who would have fought his way through all of Genosha to save her. In this moment, she can’t help herself. “I miss Hrimhari.” Her voice sticks in her throat. “I miss Moira.”
“Oh Rahney.” He leads her to the new rocker and kneels in front of her. And even though she knows she shouldn’t, she lets herself take comfort in his arms.
***
Shatterstar is fucking adorable when he eats.
It’s ridiculous. The guy is an alien warrior designed to be a living weapon, but he can’t eat chocolate ice cream without getting it all over his face. Literally all over - there’s even a tiny speck of it in his eyelashes. Little rivulets of chocolate are streaming down his hand as he tries to gobble the snack down before the hot sun can make it disappear. It’s so stupidly cute that Rictor can’t help but kiss him, licking quickly at a smear beside his nose. Shatterstar hums with pleasure and deepens the kiss. Rictor tastes hot fudge sauce.
There is an explosion and then a splatter of liquid. Both of them are seasoned fighters, so they’re on their feet and ready to go before they realize what’s happened. The remains of a can of Pepsi are drizzling down into a sewer grate, Star has a can-shaped bruise already forming on his left bicep and a pair of teenagers are jeering at them from across the street.
“Hey faggots!” The bigger one raises his middle finger into the air and his buddy laughs like this is high comedy. “Take it to the butt bar, huh? No one else wants to see that!”
Shatterstar sprints across the road and Rictor isn’t far behind him. The shitheads take off the instant they realize that they’ve chosen to pick on guys who will fight back, but Rictor knows he and Star can catch them, and he’d like to scare them a bit. That had been an actual nice moment, and he doesn’t get too many of those.
But Star stops several yards from his prey and just looks sheepishly at Rictor. “Sorry.”
“What for? I’m definitely up for kicking some asshole ass.” The teenagers have stopped running under an overpass and are watching them now, trying to decide if they should be scared or not.
“I thought you wanted me to be understanding when confronted with homophobic behaviour.” Star studies Rictor’s face like he’s searching for clues on how he should act. “They might have had... difficult lives.”
It takes him a minute, but Rictor gets it. “Rahne doesn’t pull shit like that.” Although, now that he thinks about it, she had attacked Star the first time she’d seen them together. Yeah, the circumstances had been weird, but still... He suddenly feels sick to his stomach; is his friend like those guys?
What exactly has he been defending?
“Julio?” Star is watching closely, trying to figure out what to do. “Do you want to chase them?”
Rictor looks at the pricks, who are getting a bit of their cockiness back with the delay. Out of nowhere, he’s suddenly exhausted. The warmth of the day, which was a treat ten minutes ago, feels nothing but oppressive now. “Nah. Can’t see the point.”
Star’s brow furrows. “Do you want to go home?”
Rictor shakes his head. He sends out a carefully controlled seismic blast, just enough to let the teenagers know exactly what they’ve been lucky enough to dodge. And then, hoping they’re still watching, he pulls Star close and kisses him hard.
Because fuck them. Fuck them all.
****
Rahne wants so much to die.
She can see no other way out, no other escape from this swirl of thoughts dancing around in her head: the endless cycle of my son my baby damned i’m damned he’s damned my son that pulses inside her head twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She will hear it, she is certain, every second of every day until the day she dies.
And she hopes very much that happens soon.
The drugs had helped a bit - and who would have guessed that Monet would have a secret Valium habit? But Jamie had put his foot down and no there was no more sweet, fuzzy-edged oblivion. Worse, he’d searched the room and found the little stash of extras that she’d been compiling under the mattress, so her escape plan is impossible now.
So she’s devised another way.
They bring her trays of food, and she eats it docilely, like the good girl she used to be. Then she slips away to the toilet, the only place where she gets any privacy these days. When the food comes back up again, so do the memories. She vomited her baby up like a hairball and threw him away like rubbish. But the minute amount of nutrients she’s absorbing before she can get rid of the food won’t be able sustain her forever. All she has to do is wait.
They’re getting suspicious; she knows that. She’s losing weight much more quickly that she should be; sores are forming around her mouth. She can hear them talking when they think she’s asleep; they’re thinking of getting her professional help. She doesn’t think they will though; they’re all X-men at heart and naturally wary of outsiders. And seeing as pretty much everyone is an outsider these days, she figures she has them stumped.
But she’s unprepared for Shatterstar.
He watches her eat her soup, nodding approvingly as she scrapes the last spoonful from the bottom. Then she puts out her hand so he can help her to the toilet; they like to offer assistance.
He shakes his head. “No.”
She stares at him in dumb confusion. “But I have to … you know... go.” She can feel the calories taking root and she needs to get rid of the soup now.
“You need to digest. I recommend you lie down and sleep as you do so. You look exhausted.”
Panic grips her chest. “I need to go to the toilet! You can’t stop me from doing that! It’s inhumane!”
He is immovable. “I can take you to the toilet, but you will have to use it with the door open. Or if you can wait a few moments, I will call Julio and have him bring a bedpan. If neither one of those options appeals to you, urinate on yourself. I will change the sheets.” His eyes are as hard as flint. “But rest assured, I will not be leaving here until you have digested your meal.”
Rahne slumps, defeated. “Why do you even care?” Of all her teammates, she would have expected Shatterstar to be the most willing to let her die.
“Julio loves you. I love Julio. Therefore, I care.”
“He doesn’t. Not anymore.” Ric had started to pull away from her long before she did the terrible thing. At the time, she hadn’t understood it. But now it's all too clear. He must have sensed the monster she really is.
“He most certainly does. He has been angry at you because of your response to our relationship, but he loves you nevertheless.” Shatterstar’s anger is like a tangible thing in the room. “This is hurting him, you know. He paces our room for hours. He weeps for you. Your behaviour is hurting Julio and your death would wound him horribly. It may cripple him forever. I will not allow that, Rahne. You would do well to resign yourself to that now.”
She hears the whimpering of a cornered animal and then realises it's coming from her. “Please”, she begs, far beyond dignity now. “I can’t sleep, Star. I can’t rest. I need to find a way to rest.”
She is stunned when he settles into her narrow cot, more so when those dangerous warrior fingers come up to stroke her brow gently. “Just close your eyes, Rahne. I will stay until you are asleep.”
The gentle touches are soothing, hypnotic. Against her own will, she finds herself relaxing. She is almost unconscious when she hears him speak again.
“You did not allow Julio to die.”
“Hmmm?”
“When he was depressed, after he lost his powers, he wanted to end his life. You prevented it. I only learned of that this morning.” She’d almost forgotten that. “Thank you for that. You have done a horrible thing, Rahne Sinclair. But you have done a great deal of good in your life as well. Give yourself a chance to do more.”
And in the instant before she falls asleep, she manages to believe him.
*****
Rictor hasn’t been to church in years.
He used to love it. He was raised Catholic; some of the only happy moments he remembers from a pretty damn bleak childhood involve Easter egg hunts and listening to the organ thrum and the warm embrace of Sister Maria Katalina. But working out who he was had made the negative messages impossible to ignore, and in the end he’d sworn never to come back.
So he’s understandably nervous now.
But the man across the desk, Reverend Phillips according to his nameplate, seems harmless enough. He listens to the Coles Notes version that Rictor had carefully prepared, that his friend’s fiance had died and then she’d had to give up their baby, that he was scared for her and thought she needed some religious counsel. The minister nods supportively, leaning forward and steepling his hands as Rictor finishes. Then he presses the buzzer for his secretary.
“Mrs. Collins, can you bring me some pamphlets? Everything we have on dealing with grief.” He turns back to Rictor. “Those will be a start, but I think she really needs to talk to someone. Can you bring her in here? I’ll make space in my schedule.”
Rictor shakes his head. “I can’t get her to leave the house.”
“Ah. Then I’ll come to her. What’s the address?”
Rictor hesitates, but he’s desperate. “Do you know the X-Factor Investigations building?”
Phillips nods. “You’re mutants?”
His voice is neutral, but Rictor still bristles. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Oh, not at all!” The reverend smiles. “My niece is a mutant - my brother’s daughter. She can turn invisible; it’s remarkable. She often volunteers to entertain the Sunday school children; it’s always a big hit.” He grows more serious. “You know, Julio... may I call you Julio?”
Rictor shrugs. “Why not?”
“I hope you haven’t let being a mutant keep you away from the church. I’m all too aware that there’s a lot of small minded people in the world, and - sorry to say - the church is no different. But please know that both you and your friend will be welcome at any time should you wish to attend services. We have a number of mutants in our congregation.”
“Thanks, Padre. Really. But no thanks.”
“Not padre - I’m not a priest. Why don’t you call me Tom? And is there any reason why you wouldn’t want to join us?”
“A million and one. But look-” Rictor rubs at his temples. “You’re gonna come and see Rahne regardless, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not just a mutant, Tom. I’m gay. I’m a gay mutant. So me and church? Not exactly simpatico.” He waits for the look of disapproval to cross the reverend’s face.
It doesn’t come. “Julio, this is a Welcoming Congregation. Do you know what that means?”
Rictor shakes his head.
“You might like to find out.” He presses the buzzer again. “Mrs Collins, can you also bring in the information for prospective LGBTIA members?” He smiles at Rictor. “She’s a lovely lady. She’s been married to the other Mrs. Collins for three months. I performed the ceremony myself. It was beautiful.” He leans back in his chair. “I will do my very best to help your poor friend, Julio. And maybe you’ll let me help you too.”
******
It’s an absolutely perfect autumn day, warm and sunny with a milk and water sky. But Rahne is shaking like a newly red leaf nonetheless. She’s left the house a few times in the past month, but only for little things: a quick trip to the grocery store, a walk around the block. This picnic, a huge gathering with congregations from ten or so different local churches, is overwhelming to her. She keeps her eyes low to the ground and focuses her mind on the calming presences of Rictor and Shatterstar beside her.
She was stunned when Ric told her he’d starting going to church. And he’s become such an active member! He even founded the youth group for the congregation’s mutant teenagers. He keeps asking Rahne to come to a meeting, but she hasn’t been able to face that yet.
Everyone here seems nice though. A kindly-looking old lady gives her a plate piled high with various salads and a young man with tattoos spiralling up his arms offers her a plastic cup of orange juice along with the Lord’s blessings. She knows she’ll only nibble and sip a bit; she still can’t manage much food. She feels unworthy of their warmth; what would they say to her if they knew?
Shatterstar takes her plate and leads her to a shady spot. “You’re grinding your teeth. You only do that when you’re under stress.” Rahne marvels that he’s come to know her so well.
“I’m okay; it’s just... you know.”
Star nods, because he does. The friendship between them is still a new and tenuous thing. When she thinks of it, Rahne pictures buds unfurling and new butterflies unfolding still-damp wings. Still, she’s grateful for it.
“Oh for God’s sake.” The voice cuts into her thoughts, dripping with disgust.
Rahne sees its source, a middle aged woman with her top lip raised in a sneer. She doesn’t know her; she doesn’t know any of these people. But her stomach instinctively contracts in fear.
“Would you look at that?” The woman complains to her friend. “At a church picnic, no less. There are children here!”
“They must be from that hippie church downtown”, the man comments. “I wish they’d book different days. I’m going to complain to the minister; this isn’t appropriate.”
Rahne follows their gazes to Rictor, who’s talking animatedly with a purple-feathered teenager.
Rahne has always been invigorated by anger but she’s forgotten how much purpose it gives her. She’s on her feet and stalking towards the pair before she understands that she intended to even stand up. She strides across the grass towards the pair, adrenaline coursing through her. They see her coming too late; unless they decide to actively run away they’re going to have to stay and listen to what she has to say.
“Excuse me, can I have a word?”
“Do I know you?” The woman sounds like she’s doing her best Emma-Frost-Ice-Queen impression, but Rahne’s not intimidated in the least. She’s faced down the real thing, after all.
“No. Through the Lord’s kindness, I’ve been able to avoid your presence until this point in my life. But all good things must come to an end. So, I’m Rahne - nice to meet you - care to tell me why you felt the need to be so rude about my friend over there? Or his young friend, who happens to be one of those children you were so concerned about a minute ago? Or do mutant kids not count as children in your book?”
“We weren’t talking to you.” The man sounds genuinely afraid, and out of nowhere Rahne remembers how Moira saved her from the lynch mob that horrible night. She’d been so amazed that a single woman could hold off a murderous crowd, but her mother had gently explained that all bigots are really just cowards.
“You were talking about me.” She stands right in front of them, forcing them to look at her. “Because I’m a mutant too.”
“I know you’re a mutant”, the woman snaps. “I’ve seen you in the papers and on television. I don’t care about that. But I’ve seen him on the news too, holding hands with that one.” She gestures at Shatterstar. “Those men are homosexuals!”
Rahne blinks, because she wasn’t expecting this. She’s not sure what to do. To make matters worse, they’ve caught the attention of the other picnickers; she can feel multiple pairs of eyes on her. Panicked, she looks up and realises that two of those eyes belong to Rictor, who is watching her with so much undeserved hope that it makes her ache.
“And? They’re also kind and decent men who spend their lives trying to help people. You, on the other hand, spend your time judging people who are doing nothing to harm you. Which one sounds more like a good Christian life to you?”
“A good Christian life?” She’s managed to provoke the woman into outrage. “Jesus said-”
“Many, many things.” Rahne cuts her off. “Most of it was about love. If you go check your scripture, I think you’ll see he’s rather in favour of it.” She was practically quoting one of Rictor’s church pamphlets, suddenly so grateful that he’d made her and a totally disinterested Shatterstar listen as he read them aloud. “He was anti-judgemental busybodies though, so brace yourselves for that. You can complain to whoever you like, but we aren’t going anywhere. So I suggest you deal with it or leave. Whichever you choose, please do it quietly.”
She turns her back on the pair of them. It’s the longest conversation she’s had with strangers in months.
Rictor bids a hasty goodbye to the purple boy and jogs over to her, settling her back on the grass next to Shatterstar.
“Are you okay?” Ric asks her, noticing the tremors in her hands. “Do you want to go home?”
Rahne smiles softly at him. “You know, I think I could manage a hamburger.”
Ric is off and running to the grill before she can even close her mouth.
Shatterstar is studying her carefully. Rahne meets his eyes.
“My mother once told me that bigots act primarily out of fear. I’m trying not to be scared anymore.”
Star’s sudden grin looks as though it might split his face in half. “If Julio is interested, would you like to have a threesome with us?”
Rahne hasn’t laughed in so long that it takes her a couple of seconds to recognise the sound.
*******
Rictor collapses onto the sofa. “That was absolutely amazing.”
Shatterstar concurs. “It was. We should go to more picnics. I had no idea they were so entertaining.”
Rictor laughs and presses a kiss against his cheek. “That one was a bit out of the ordinary, but I’ll take you on more picnics if you want. I’ll take you on all the picnics you like.”
They’re just getting comfortable on the sofa when a creaking step distracts them. Rahne is making her way down the stairs, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Rictor groans. Everything had seemed fine, better than it had been for a long time even. He can’t figure out why she would suddenly decide to run away. Not now.
“Rahney”, he keeps his voice soft. “Come on - we’ve had a good day. Please don’t make me call Jamie.”
She stares at him in blank incomprehension. “What? Oh, Jamie. Actually, can you please tell Jamie I’ve gone. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll call as soon as I can.”
Rictor glances at Star, who nods and subtly moves to stand in front of the door. “Where are you going?”
There’s a determination in her eyes that reminds him so much of the fierce spunky redhead he fell for back before he knew himself a bit better. “I’m going to get my baby back.”
Rictor had no idea what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What?”
She nods. “He’s with The Pack, right? With Jack Russell? Ric, I’ve thought about going to get him a million times, but I never thought I could be good enough for him anymore. I mean, I threw him away, Rictor. Because of the way he was born. I have to live with the fact that I’m someone who could do that. But I’ve changed. I think I can keep changing. And so maybe...” She hoists the bag higher. “I need to try.”
Rictor is stunned. A part of him is thrilled to see her doing something so life-affirming, but this is huge. “Are you sure you’re ready?” He loves Rahne; he always will. But he was raised by parents who were horrible at the job, and he can’t let that happen to another kid if it’s in his power to stop it. “Psychologically, I mean.”
“No.” Rahne shakes her head. “In fact, I’m sure I’m not ready. So I’m going to stay with The Pack for a while; they’ll accept me - I’m one of them. And they can help me; they’ll let me know if I’m making mistakes. When I’m making mistakes, since I’m sure I will.”
“You’re leaving?” Star is watching her intently and Rictor realises suddenly how very alike they both are, these determined and headstrong redheads.
“I am.”
Meeting Rictor’s eyes, Star steps away from the door. “Do you want us to come with you? Just to find The Pack? It’ll go faster if we sleep in shifts and split the driving.”
“Thank you”, Rahne replies. “Really. But I need to do this on my own.” She kisses them both on each cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”
And then there is a ridiculous clingy three-way hug that totally undermines the dignity of what they’ve just established, but Rictor figures they’ve probably earned it.
So he slides his arm around Shatterstar’s waist and the two of them watch as Rahne Sinclair walks away and shuts the door on her past. He remembers again the time when he was in love with her, when he thought he’d marry her someday and that any babies she had would be his.
And then he looks at Star and thanks God, for so many reasons, that people can change their minds.
Author: thinlizzy2
Fandom: Marvel Comics (X-Factor)
Pairing/characters: Rictor/Shatterstar, Rahne/Hrimhari, past Rahne/Rictor
Rating: Soft R
Prompt: Any fandom, any character, He/she was absolutely sure that being gay was wrong, until someone close came out. After quite a bit of thought, he/she decides that the only thing to do is change his/her own mind.
Summary: Rahne is worried about the state of her friend’s soul. Rictor is out, proud and damn well not going to lose any friends over it if he can help it. Shatterstar is just awesome.
Warnings: Child abuse (canon), suicidal thoughts, eating disorder, homophobia, mention of canon character death.
Author's Notes: Written for queer_fest. Jeez, it's been a while since I wrote anything! I forgot how much fun it is!
Everything is awkward now.
It’s not just that she’s done an awful thing; Rahne is - sadly - accustomed to doing awful things now. Sure, lying to Rictor was horrible, but her intentions were good and so she can reconcile herself to it. After all, she was only trying to save him.
And that’s why everything is awkward now.
Because Ric doesn’t want to be saved. He doesn’t want to give up this... whatever this thing is that he has with Shatterstar or ask God for the strength to resist the temptation that the other man apparently holds over him. Rahne has prayed and prayed that he’ll see the light and realize the terrible danger he’s placed his soul in, but Ric has to do his part too. And so far he’s been completely unwilling.
Jamie calls from downstairs, reminding her that the leftover chicken is still in the fridge and she should eat it before it goes bad. Rahne groans but promises to be down in a minute. She knows she should eat; the baby needs her to have three nutritious, well-balanced meals every day. But she loses her appetite when she’s stressed and everything about her current situation is stressful.
Jamie replies that he’ll leave it on the counter; he’s on his way out. Rahne sighs with relief. Things with Jamie are awkward too, ever since he sat her down and gave her that lecture - the one about hate and how hating gay people isn’t all that different from hating mutants. People are born the way they are, he’d told her. None of us can change, even if we want to, and none of us should have to change just to please others. Rahne had tried to explain that she doesn’t hate homosexuals. But she can’t change the will of God and she can’t change the Bible, so all she can try to do is change Ric’s mind. In the end, Jamie had just shaken his head sadly and told her to try and keep her “politics” out of team business.
She passes Ric’s room on the way to the kitchen. She hesitates. In the time before, she would have gone right in without bothering to knock and invited him to eat with her. He would have rustled up that warm potato salad of his, the one dish he actually cooks well, and they would have chatted over their food about films or books or the old days. Slowly, she lifts her hand to the knob.
Through the door, she hears the strangely accented tones of Shatterstar’s voice. Ric’s low laughter follows, and Rahne drops her hand like the door is on fire. Eyes stinging, she hurries to the kitchen.
*
Rictor falls back onto the pillow and closes his eyes. “Fuck”, he mutters.
“I’d like to.” His lover reaches down and rubs at his cock, but Ric knows it’s no use; his head’s in a totally different place.
So he removes Star’s questing hand and holds it up to his lips, kissing the palm in apology. “Sorry, Corazon.”
Shatterstar shrugs. “I can masturbate.” Rictor snorts; he loves Star’s innocent honesty. “But is there a problem?”
“Kind of”, Ric admits. “I can’t stop thinking about Rahne.”
“Oh.” Shatterstar appears to think that over. “Are these thoughts erotic?”
Ric nearly chokes. “Star - no!”
“Good.” Star nods and Rictor raises an eyebrow at him.
“No offense, but you’re the last person who ought to be getting jealous.”
“I’m not jealous”, Star protests. “I just don’t like her. She makes you feel bad.”
“It’s not like that. I mean... I feel bad for her.” Rictor isn’t sure he can put it into words. “She’s had a rough life.”
“So have I”, Shatterstar points out. “So have you. But we don’t set out to convince other people they have fathered our children.”
Ric laughs again. “It would be tricky.”
“She really matters to you, doesn’t she?”
He nods in response. “She was... I dunno... my best friend maybe. More than that, once. And we’ve saved each other’s lives a bunch of times.” He knows Star will understand that; everyday human things can still confuse him but he gets the bond between soldiers with no trouble at all.
“Then you should go talk to her.”
“She might be sleeping. She needs her rest.”
Shatterstar shakes his head. “She is not sleeping. She was outside the door a short while ago, she went to the kitchen and now she is in her bedroom.” He arches an eyebrow at Rictor’s look of surprise. “A good sense of hearing can mean the difference between life and death on Mojoworld, remember?”
“Right.” Rictor stands up and reaches for his shirt. “You really don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” He smiles. “But when you come back, I hope you will be more able to concentrate.”
**
Rahne places the onesies in the top drawer and sets the teddy bear on top of the bureau. She’s never been much of a shopper, but it’s fun to plan for the baby. She imagines him - she doesn’t know why but she’s definitely predicting a boy - snuggling up to the giant bear, his little thumb in his mouth. She’ll read one of the new books to him and then tuck him under the soft green bunny-rabbit blankie that was outrageously expensive and completely impossible not to buy He’ll nod off to sleep and it’ll be so adorable that she’ll have to call for...
Who will she call for? Who’s going to come and watch her baby nap?
She tries not to dwell on this; actually, she tries not to think about it at all. But once the floodgates have opened it’s so hard not to remember that she and her prince should be unpacking these things together, laughing over how adorable their son will look in the clothes and marvelling over the smallness of the shoes. Ever since the first time they met, she’s imagined the birth of their first child. Having him beside her while the doctor cut the cord was always a given. That they won’t ever have that is unbearable and the tears come hot and fast.
“Rahne?”
She whirls around. Rictor is standing in the door of her room; she has no idea how long he’s been watching her. In an instant, he’s crouching in front of her. They very rarely touch these days, but now he’s got her hand clutched in his like it’s nothing at all. “Rahne, what is it? Are you in labour?”
He’s so much himself, so much her sweet, caring Rictor that she can’t even speak around the lump in her throat. She just shakes her head.
“What is it then? Are you in pain? What hurts?”
She knows she shouldn’t confide in him anymore. He isn’t hers these days, not like he used to be. And her soul is in a precarious enough state. She can’t let herself fall in with sinners; she owes her child more than that. But those soft brown eyes are the same ones she used to get butterflies in her stomach over as a teenager; the face still belongs to the boy who would have fought his way through all of Genosha to save her. In this moment, she can’t help herself. “I miss Hrimhari.” Her voice sticks in her throat. “I miss Moira.”
“Oh Rahney.” He leads her to the new rocker and kneels in front of her. And even though she knows she shouldn’t, she lets herself take comfort in his arms.
***
Shatterstar is fucking adorable when he eats.
It’s ridiculous. The guy is an alien warrior designed to be a living weapon, but he can’t eat chocolate ice cream without getting it all over his face. Literally all over - there’s even a tiny speck of it in his eyelashes. Little rivulets of chocolate are streaming down his hand as he tries to gobble the snack down before the hot sun can make it disappear. It’s so stupidly cute that Rictor can’t help but kiss him, licking quickly at a smear beside his nose. Shatterstar hums with pleasure and deepens the kiss. Rictor tastes hot fudge sauce.
There is an explosion and then a splatter of liquid. Both of them are seasoned fighters, so they’re on their feet and ready to go before they realize what’s happened. The remains of a can of Pepsi are drizzling down into a sewer grate, Star has a can-shaped bruise already forming on his left bicep and a pair of teenagers are jeering at them from across the street.
“Hey faggots!” The bigger one raises his middle finger into the air and his buddy laughs like this is high comedy. “Take it to the butt bar, huh? No one else wants to see that!”
Shatterstar sprints across the road and Rictor isn’t far behind him. The shitheads take off the instant they realize that they’ve chosen to pick on guys who will fight back, but Rictor knows he and Star can catch them, and he’d like to scare them a bit. That had been an actual nice moment, and he doesn’t get too many of those.
But Star stops several yards from his prey and just looks sheepishly at Rictor. “Sorry.”
“What for? I’m definitely up for kicking some asshole ass.” The teenagers have stopped running under an overpass and are watching them now, trying to decide if they should be scared or not.
“I thought you wanted me to be understanding when confronted with homophobic behaviour.” Star studies Rictor’s face like he’s searching for clues on how he should act. “They might have had... difficult lives.”
It takes him a minute, but Rictor gets it. “Rahne doesn’t pull shit like that.” Although, now that he thinks about it, she had attacked Star the first time she’d seen them together. Yeah, the circumstances had been weird, but still... He suddenly feels sick to his stomach; is his friend like those guys?
What exactly has he been defending?
“Julio?” Star is watching closely, trying to figure out what to do. “Do you want to chase them?”
Rictor looks at the pricks, who are getting a bit of their cockiness back with the delay. Out of nowhere, he’s suddenly exhausted. The warmth of the day, which was a treat ten minutes ago, feels nothing but oppressive now. “Nah. Can’t see the point.”
Star’s brow furrows. “Do you want to go home?”
Rictor shakes his head. He sends out a carefully controlled seismic blast, just enough to let the teenagers know exactly what they’ve been lucky enough to dodge. And then, hoping they’re still watching, he pulls Star close and kisses him hard.
Because fuck them. Fuck them all.
****
Rahne wants so much to die.
She can see no other way out, no other escape from this swirl of thoughts dancing around in her head: the endless cycle of my son my baby damned i’m damned he’s damned my son that pulses inside her head twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She will hear it, she is certain, every second of every day until the day she dies.
And she hopes very much that happens soon.
The drugs had helped a bit - and who would have guessed that Monet would have a secret Valium habit? But Jamie had put his foot down and no there was no more sweet, fuzzy-edged oblivion. Worse, he’d searched the room and found the little stash of extras that she’d been compiling under the mattress, so her escape plan is impossible now.
So she’s devised another way.
They bring her trays of food, and she eats it docilely, like the good girl she used to be. Then she slips away to the toilet, the only place where she gets any privacy these days. When the food comes back up again, so do the memories. She vomited her baby up like a hairball and threw him away like rubbish. But the minute amount of nutrients she’s absorbing before she can get rid of the food won’t be able sustain her forever. All she has to do is wait.
They’re getting suspicious; she knows that. She’s losing weight much more quickly that she should be; sores are forming around her mouth. She can hear them talking when they think she’s asleep; they’re thinking of getting her professional help. She doesn’t think they will though; they’re all X-men at heart and naturally wary of outsiders. And seeing as pretty much everyone is an outsider these days, she figures she has them stumped.
But she’s unprepared for Shatterstar.
He watches her eat her soup, nodding approvingly as she scrapes the last spoonful from the bottom. Then she puts out her hand so he can help her to the toilet; they like to offer assistance.
He shakes his head. “No.”
She stares at him in dumb confusion. “But I have to … you know... go.” She can feel the calories taking root and she needs to get rid of the soup now.
“You need to digest. I recommend you lie down and sleep as you do so. You look exhausted.”
Panic grips her chest. “I need to go to the toilet! You can’t stop me from doing that! It’s inhumane!”
He is immovable. “I can take you to the toilet, but you will have to use it with the door open. Or if you can wait a few moments, I will call Julio and have him bring a bedpan. If neither one of those options appeals to you, urinate on yourself. I will change the sheets.” His eyes are as hard as flint. “But rest assured, I will not be leaving here until you have digested your meal.”
Rahne slumps, defeated. “Why do you even care?” Of all her teammates, she would have expected Shatterstar to be the most willing to let her die.
“Julio loves you. I love Julio. Therefore, I care.”
“He doesn’t. Not anymore.” Ric had started to pull away from her long before she did the terrible thing. At the time, she hadn’t understood it. But now it's all too clear. He must have sensed the monster she really is.
“He most certainly does. He has been angry at you because of your response to our relationship, but he loves you nevertheless.” Shatterstar’s anger is like a tangible thing in the room. “This is hurting him, you know. He paces our room for hours. He weeps for you. Your behaviour is hurting Julio and your death would wound him horribly. It may cripple him forever. I will not allow that, Rahne. You would do well to resign yourself to that now.”
She hears the whimpering of a cornered animal and then realises it's coming from her. “Please”, she begs, far beyond dignity now. “I can’t sleep, Star. I can’t rest. I need to find a way to rest.”
She is stunned when he settles into her narrow cot, more so when those dangerous warrior fingers come up to stroke her brow gently. “Just close your eyes, Rahne. I will stay until you are asleep.”
The gentle touches are soothing, hypnotic. Against her own will, she finds herself relaxing. She is almost unconscious when she hears him speak again.
“You did not allow Julio to die.”
“Hmmm?”
“When he was depressed, after he lost his powers, he wanted to end his life. You prevented it. I only learned of that this morning.” She’d almost forgotten that. “Thank you for that. You have done a horrible thing, Rahne Sinclair. But you have done a great deal of good in your life as well. Give yourself a chance to do more.”
And in the instant before she falls asleep, she manages to believe him.
*****
Rictor hasn’t been to church in years.
He used to love it. He was raised Catholic; some of the only happy moments he remembers from a pretty damn bleak childhood involve Easter egg hunts and listening to the organ thrum and the warm embrace of Sister Maria Katalina. But working out who he was had made the negative messages impossible to ignore, and in the end he’d sworn never to come back.
So he’s understandably nervous now.
But the man across the desk, Reverend Phillips according to his nameplate, seems harmless enough. He listens to the Coles Notes version that Rictor had carefully prepared, that his friend’s fiance had died and then she’d had to give up their baby, that he was scared for her and thought she needed some religious counsel. The minister nods supportively, leaning forward and steepling his hands as Rictor finishes. Then he presses the buzzer for his secretary.
“Mrs. Collins, can you bring me some pamphlets? Everything we have on dealing with grief.” He turns back to Rictor. “Those will be a start, but I think she really needs to talk to someone. Can you bring her in here? I’ll make space in my schedule.”
Rictor shakes his head. “I can’t get her to leave the house.”
“Ah. Then I’ll come to her. What’s the address?”
Rictor hesitates, but he’s desperate. “Do you know the X-Factor Investigations building?”
Phillips nods. “You’re mutants?”
His voice is neutral, but Rictor still bristles. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Oh, not at all!” The reverend smiles. “My niece is a mutant - my brother’s daughter. She can turn invisible; it’s remarkable. She often volunteers to entertain the Sunday school children; it’s always a big hit.” He grows more serious. “You know, Julio... may I call you Julio?”
Rictor shrugs. “Why not?”
“I hope you haven’t let being a mutant keep you away from the church. I’m all too aware that there’s a lot of small minded people in the world, and - sorry to say - the church is no different. But please know that both you and your friend will be welcome at any time should you wish to attend services. We have a number of mutants in our congregation.”
“Thanks, Padre. Really. But no thanks.”
“Not padre - I’m not a priest. Why don’t you call me Tom? And is there any reason why you wouldn’t want to join us?”
“A million and one. But look-” Rictor rubs at his temples. “You’re gonna come and see Rahne regardless, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not just a mutant, Tom. I’m gay. I’m a gay mutant. So me and church? Not exactly simpatico.” He waits for the look of disapproval to cross the reverend’s face.
It doesn’t come. “Julio, this is a Welcoming Congregation. Do you know what that means?”
Rictor shakes his head.
“You might like to find out.” He presses the buzzer again. “Mrs Collins, can you also bring in the information for prospective LGBTIA members?” He smiles at Rictor. “She’s a lovely lady. She’s been married to the other Mrs. Collins for three months. I performed the ceremony myself. It was beautiful.” He leans back in his chair. “I will do my very best to help your poor friend, Julio. And maybe you’ll let me help you too.”
******
It’s an absolutely perfect autumn day, warm and sunny with a milk and water sky. But Rahne is shaking like a newly red leaf nonetheless. She’s left the house a few times in the past month, but only for little things: a quick trip to the grocery store, a walk around the block. This picnic, a huge gathering with congregations from ten or so different local churches, is overwhelming to her. She keeps her eyes low to the ground and focuses her mind on the calming presences of Rictor and Shatterstar beside her.
She was stunned when Ric told her he’d starting going to church. And he’s become such an active member! He even founded the youth group for the congregation’s mutant teenagers. He keeps asking Rahne to come to a meeting, but she hasn’t been able to face that yet.
Everyone here seems nice though. A kindly-looking old lady gives her a plate piled high with various salads and a young man with tattoos spiralling up his arms offers her a plastic cup of orange juice along with the Lord’s blessings. She knows she’ll only nibble and sip a bit; she still can’t manage much food. She feels unworthy of their warmth; what would they say to her if they knew?
Shatterstar takes her plate and leads her to a shady spot. “You’re grinding your teeth. You only do that when you’re under stress.” Rahne marvels that he’s come to know her so well.
“I’m okay; it’s just... you know.”
Star nods, because he does. The friendship between them is still a new and tenuous thing. When she thinks of it, Rahne pictures buds unfurling and new butterflies unfolding still-damp wings. Still, she’s grateful for it.
“Oh for God’s sake.” The voice cuts into her thoughts, dripping with disgust.
Rahne sees its source, a middle aged woman with her top lip raised in a sneer. She doesn’t know her; she doesn’t know any of these people. But her stomach instinctively contracts in fear.
“Would you look at that?” The woman complains to her friend. “At a church picnic, no less. There are children here!”
“They must be from that hippie church downtown”, the man comments. “I wish they’d book different days. I’m going to complain to the minister; this isn’t appropriate.”
Rahne follows their gazes to Rictor, who’s talking animatedly with a purple-feathered teenager.
Rahne has always been invigorated by anger but she’s forgotten how much purpose it gives her. She’s on her feet and stalking towards the pair before she understands that she intended to even stand up. She strides across the grass towards the pair, adrenaline coursing through her. They see her coming too late; unless they decide to actively run away they’re going to have to stay and listen to what she has to say.
“Excuse me, can I have a word?”
“Do I know you?” The woman sounds like she’s doing her best Emma-Frost-Ice-Queen impression, but Rahne’s not intimidated in the least. She’s faced down the real thing, after all.
“No. Through the Lord’s kindness, I’ve been able to avoid your presence until this point in my life. But all good things must come to an end. So, I’m Rahne - nice to meet you - care to tell me why you felt the need to be so rude about my friend over there? Or his young friend, who happens to be one of those children you were so concerned about a minute ago? Or do mutant kids not count as children in your book?”
“We weren’t talking to you.” The man sounds genuinely afraid, and out of nowhere Rahne remembers how Moira saved her from the lynch mob that horrible night. She’d been so amazed that a single woman could hold off a murderous crowd, but her mother had gently explained that all bigots are really just cowards.
“You were talking about me.” She stands right in front of them, forcing them to look at her. “Because I’m a mutant too.”
“I know you’re a mutant”, the woman snaps. “I’ve seen you in the papers and on television. I don’t care about that. But I’ve seen him on the news too, holding hands with that one.” She gestures at Shatterstar. “Those men are homosexuals!”
Rahne blinks, because she wasn’t expecting this. She’s not sure what to do. To make matters worse, they’ve caught the attention of the other picnickers; she can feel multiple pairs of eyes on her. Panicked, she looks up and realises that two of those eyes belong to Rictor, who is watching her with so much undeserved hope that it makes her ache.
“And? They’re also kind and decent men who spend their lives trying to help people. You, on the other hand, spend your time judging people who are doing nothing to harm you. Which one sounds more like a good Christian life to you?”
“A good Christian life?” She’s managed to provoke the woman into outrage. “Jesus said-”
“Many, many things.” Rahne cuts her off. “Most of it was about love. If you go check your scripture, I think you’ll see he’s rather in favour of it.” She was practically quoting one of Rictor’s church pamphlets, suddenly so grateful that he’d made her and a totally disinterested Shatterstar listen as he read them aloud. “He was anti-judgemental busybodies though, so brace yourselves for that. You can complain to whoever you like, but we aren’t going anywhere. So I suggest you deal with it or leave. Whichever you choose, please do it quietly.”
She turns her back on the pair of them. It’s the longest conversation she’s had with strangers in months.
Rictor bids a hasty goodbye to the purple boy and jogs over to her, settling her back on the grass next to Shatterstar.
“Are you okay?” Ric asks her, noticing the tremors in her hands. “Do you want to go home?”
Rahne smiles softly at him. “You know, I think I could manage a hamburger.”
Ric is off and running to the grill before she can even close her mouth.
Shatterstar is studying her carefully. Rahne meets his eyes.
“My mother once told me that bigots act primarily out of fear. I’m trying not to be scared anymore.”
Star’s sudden grin looks as though it might split his face in half. “If Julio is interested, would you like to have a threesome with us?”
Rahne hasn’t laughed in so long that it takes her a couple of seconds to recognise the sound.
*******
Rictor collapses onto the sofa. “That was absolutely amazing.”
Shatterstar concurs. “It was. We should go to more picnics. I had no idea they were so entertaining.”
Rictor laughs and presses a kiss against his cheek. “That one was a bit out of the ordinary, but I’ll take you on more picnics if you want. I’ll take you on all the picnics you like.”
They’re just getting comfortable on the sofa when a creaking step distracts them. Rahne is making her way down the stairs, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Rictor groans. Everything had seemed fine, better than it had been for a long time even. He can’t figure out why she would suddenly decide to run away. Not now.
“Rahney”, he keeps his voice soft. “Come on - we’ve had a good day. Please don’t make me call Jamie.”
She stares at him in blank incomprehension. “What? Oh, Jamie. Actually, can you please tell Jamie I’ve gone. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll call as soon as I can.”
Rictor glances at Star, who nods and subtly moves to stand in front of the door. “Where are you going?”
There’s a determination in her eyes that reminds him so much of the fierce spunky redhead he fell for back before he knew himself a bit better. “I’m going to get my baby back.”
Rictor had no idea what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What?”
She nods. “He’s with The Pack, right? With Jack Russell? Ric, I’ve thought about going to get him a million times, but I never thought I could be good enough for him anymore. I mean, I threw him away, Rictor. Because of the way he was born. I have to live with the fact that I’m someone who could do that. But I’ve changed. I think I can keep changing. And so maybe...” She hoists the bag higher. “I need to try.”
Rictor is stunned. A part of him is thrilled to see her doing something so life-affirming, but this is huge. “Are you sure you’re ready?” He loves Rahne; he always will. But he was raised by parents who were horrible at the job, and he can’t let that happen to another kid if it’s in his power to stop it. “Psychologically, I mean.”
“No.” Rahne shakes her head. “In fact, I’m sure I’m not ready. So I’m going to stay with The Pack for a while; they’ll accept me - I’m one of them. And they can help me; they’ll let me know if I’m making mistakes. When I’m making mistakes, since I’m sure I will.”
“You’re leaving?” Star is watching her intently and Rictor realises suddenly how very alike they both are, these determined and headstrong redheads.
“I am.”
Meeting Rictor’s eyes, Star steps away from the door. “Do you want us to come with you? Just to find The Pack? It’ll go faster if we sleep in shifts and split the driving.”
“Thank you”, Rahne replies. “Really. But I need to do this on my own.” She kisses them both on each cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”
And then there is a ridiculous clingy three-way hug that totally undermines the dignity of what they’ve just established, but Rictor figures they’ve probably earned it.
So he slides his arm around Shatterstar’s waist and the two of them watch as Rahne Sinclair walks away and shuts the door on her past. He remembers again the time when he was in love with her, when he thought he’d marry her someday and that any babies she had would be his.
And then he looks at Star and thanks God, for so many reasons, that people can change their minds.