Unspoken: The Bargain

The Bargain
by Victoria P.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: "Once again, she fell back into the rituals of childhood, bargaining with an apparently absent God for things over which she had no control."

Timeline: Concurrent with/directly after Khaki's "Reality Check"

Notes: Meg & Jen - you guys rawk [sic] for being online to beta this and tell me it wasn't too OTT. Thanks to the usual suspects, and damn Joss for making me have to change the title slightly. <g>

Date: October 6, 2001

Moira pushed her out of the lab, and she stumbled into the hallway, Logan's soaking clothes upsetting her balance.

She landed on her knees, not even feeling the pain in her distress.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, she thought frantically. Don't let him die. I'll do anything. Please don't let him die. I'll never ask for anything again. I'll never go near another man. I swear. I'll live like a nun.

Once again, she fell back into the rituals of childhood, bargaining with an apparently absent God for things over which she had no control.

This was far too familiar; she flashed back to the scene at home after her mutation first manifested, with her mother shrieking and her father screaming at the 911 dispatcher.

She'd prayed then, and she prayed now, falling to her knees in tears. Unable to form a single coherent thought, she just whispered, "Oh, God. Please, God," over and over again for what seemed like the longest few minutes of her life.

He was in her head again. His enjoyment in the night and the water, and in her nude body, coming through strong and clear. He wasn't afraid. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to be inside of her.

And she'd wanted him there. Oh, not in her head, not because of her skin, no. She'd wanted to lie beneath him, seeing the stars framed by the curve of his shoulder. She wanted to cradle him between her thighs while he made love to her long and slow, the way she liked, or hard and fast, which seemed to be his preference. He seemed to think they'd have time to do it any and every way either of them could imagine.

Blushing at the direction his thoughts in her head had taken, she'd reached out, employing the tenuous control she and the Professor had worked so hard on. The thought of touching him made her skin tingle, even now, covered in his sodden, chilling clothing, in a way that had nothing to do with her mutation.

She'd been wanton, jumping from one relationship into the hope of another. Hope was a cruel mistress, holding out the things she wanted so desperately, only to snatch them away at the moment she gave in and reached for them.

He'd smiled as she took his hand.

"That's it, darlin'. It's all right," he'd whispered. "It's going to be okay."

Her lips twisted bitterly at the irony.

Nothing would ever be okay again.

She'd laughed with him, reveling in the feel of his skin against hers, warm in the cold water, strong, so gentle, as if she were something he would break if he weren't careful.

That's when she lost control.

The connection opened, buzzing along her nerves, startling her. His grip had tightened instinctively, and she hadn't been able to break free right away. Her fear had overwhelmed her, and any chance of regaining control was lost in her panic.

He'd sunk like a stone, the adamantium bonded to his skeleton making him so much less buoyant than a normal person.

She sniffed, wiping her running nose on the wet sleeve of his shirt, which no longer smelled like him, but of the stagnant lake water that had made her ill three days ago, after her encounter with Scott.

Oh, God, Scott.

Where was he? He should be here now, to hold her up, she thought. In sickness and in health. She made a choking sound that might have been a laugh. She had no right to that, never would now, but damn, he could at least be there for her to cry on.

And then the door opened and Hank stood before her. She didn't rise. Just stared at him, fear and hope warring within her heart.

"He's alive. He should be fine in a few hours."

She didn't have far to fall when she fainted.

***

She woke up to see the Professor sitting next to her bed.

"What happened? Logan?"

"Logan is fine. He should wake up sometime tomorrow, no worse for wear," Xavier assured her.

"No thanks to me."

"It was an accident, Rogue. He knows you didn't mean to--"

"I did, though, Professor. I touched him. I wanted to touch him, and he -- he wanted to touch me." She sat up, resolving not to cry anymore. "He wanted to touch me," she repeated, wonder seeping into her voice, only to be replaced by horror as she continued, "And I killed him."

"Marie." It was a tone she didn't hear often from Xavier, but one that brooked no argument. "You were trying out your control. That's understandable. Perhaps," he paused, and she knew he was searching for the appropriate words, words that wouldn't make her feel guiltier than she already did. Those words didn't exist, but she appreciated his efforts. "Perhaps next time, though, you should try it out on dry land first."

She forced a smile, knowing it wouldn't fool him, and said, "There won't be a next time."

"You're upset now, but after you've settled down, you'll see this is only a setback. I'm sure Logan --"

"Is wondering what the hell he's hanging around here for. He saved my life, Professor, and I killed him. He does all these things for me," he saves my life, he makes me laugh, he gives me hope, "and all I do is hurt him."

Xavier sighed. "Is that what his thoughts tell you?"

Her voice rose, edged with hysteria. "His thoughts? He's insane! He doesn't blame me. His last thought before he passed out was that --" she broke off. It was too personal. He had thought her skin felt like rose petals, soft and smooth against his rougher skin. He'd been imagining her hands all over his body, and using his tongue to taste hers before he'd passed out.

She blushed and hoped she wasn't projecting, though Xavier's knowing look told her that, once again, her hope was in vain.

"Yes, well, he is correct. You were foolish, but not malicious, Rogue." He brushed his hand gently over her hair. "Get some rest. You've had a rough night."

She exhaled, slumping back against the pillows. "So, how is Hank?"

"Hank? He's somewhat bewildered by the -- changes that have taken place in his absence, but he's well. He carried you up here after you passed out."

"I actually fainted? How girly."

"Like any good Southern belle," he teased, earning a true smile. "I'm sure Hank will be up to see you later."

Another pat on her head, and he rolled out of the room.

She shut the light and curled up on her side. She desperately wanted to go down and make sure Logan was okay. But she knew if she did that, she wouldn't be able to stay away from him. There was something between them, sure as the sparks between Jean and Scott, and being close to him would only remind her of everything she couldn't have.

She'd made a deal, even if she didn't really believe in God, and she knew that she was better off alone. She spent the night building walls she'd long ago let fall, a fortress round her heart, and vowed that no invader -- not even the man with gold-flecked hazel eyes and the most amazing laugh -- would breach it again.

~*~

Peanut Gallery 3: Nancy Drew Meets the Hardy Boys by Crystal Claire

Back to Unspoken Index

Back to X-Men Stories Index

Back to Main Stories Index

~*~

Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.