What Love Matters
Jul. 8th, 2022 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatTitle: What Love Matters
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Gambit/Rogue, Mystique(/Destiny)
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: At the end of the day, no matter what her mother causes, Rogue's still standing, and she's far from alone.
Word Count: 1115
Written For: Superhero Land 8x13: Pass-It-On Writing
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She couldn't believe it. No, actually, she could. She knew Raven Darkholme better than anybody. She knew her mother better than her mother's own, blood son did. Kurt still sometimes hoped she could reform, but Rogue knew better. Mystique was always everything for however it could benefit her. Even when she was supporting causes, even when she claimed to be fighting for one dream or another, she was always just looking to benefit her own self.
There were tears in Rogue's emerald green eyes as she stared out at the bayou night. Her life had finally been going so well, and then as she always did, Mystique had shown up to ruin everything. Only, Remy hadn't let her ruin it. She actually had a man, a friend and lover, who stood beside her no matter what lies her mother spread, no matter what evils she threatened. She still had one person who believed in her -- only, not just one.
Not just one at all, Rogue thought, her chin lifting a little. Her tears slowed as she gave a soft sniffle. Not just one at all! She had had so many teammates check in on her today. Charles, though he had been hundreds of miles away when Mystique had pulled what she had, had been the first one to reach out to her. The touch of his mind on hers had been gentle, exploring but not pushing. He had actually made a small confession to her today too. He also had an "evil" mutant who would never let him rest, and who he could never quite get out of his system. It turned out that he and Magneto had shared much more than most of the X-Men would ever guess. Rogue herself had already known -- Erik had confessed his steady love for Charles on one of their many trips to the Savage Land --, but she had not realized that the Professor had felt the same. They really were a star-crossed match, but their feelings were far from what she and Mystique.
Her soft, crying voice turned into a snigger at that thought. Mystique had never loved her. She'd been a naive fool to ever believe it. Somehow, she had heard about the mutant child about the "great" gift of being able to steal other people's conscience being loose in the Mississippi woods. She had hunted her down on purpose, and she had trained her to be her hunting dog, not unlike Ahab did to Rachel in the future. She and Ray had shared many talks for the two of them could understand each other on a level that few others could. They had been created, trained, and honed to be as evil as they possibly could be, weapons of utter destruction toward their own kind, and when they had dared to rebel against their masters, the people who thought themselves their owners had done everything they could to beat them back into submission.
Rogue wondered where Rachel was now. She was pretty certain she was no longer in the current time stream, but she hoped the poor girl had not been sucked back into another time with Ahab, another place where she was forced to be the Hound. It took everything they could not to be the weapons into which they had been sculpted, but at least Rachel had been beaten into submission from the moment Ahab had first set his sights on her. In some ways, Rogue felt, that was an easier fate that what Mystique had done to her.
There had been a time when she had truly believed Raven loved her, a time when she honored Raven and Irene as far better parents than the ones onto whom she had been born. There had been a time when those women and their team of evil mutants had been her family, and she would have done anything they asked without ever thinking to ask questions. But then, one by one, she had started to notice that the X-Men were helping people while they tortured innocents. She began to recognize that Raven didn't care who they killed -- and although Irene did, she turned a blind eye where her beloved Raven was concerned. She could have stopped, but she had never dared to stand up to her. She had never dared to rebel against the woman she loved.
But didn't love mean calling the other one out when they were wrong? Didn't love mean not being afraid of each other? Didn't love mean being able to speak honestly with one another about anything and everything but especially morals? Didn't love mean cherishing one another above all else? Raven should have stopped those few times Irene had asked her to, but she never had. She never would. Because unlike Irene Adler, Raven Darkholme -- if indeed that was even her real name -- did not feel love for anyone but herself.
That recognition made Rogue shiver. She looked up as Remy entered their room. "Chere," he asked softly, coming straight to her, "are you all right?" He must have asked her that a hundred times today, but Rogue just nodded glumly yet again. All her true family, all her real friends, were genuinely concerned and worried about her. What did it matter that her mother had never loved her? That bitch wasn't her real ma no matter what, but beyond that, she was cared about. She was loved.
He wrapped his arms around her, and Rogue sighed in an altogether different tone as she leaned back into his loving, reassuring embrace. "What's a girl to do?" she asked, and then shook her head. "Ah am so lucky Ah have you, Remy," she turned, hugged him tightly, and buried her face in his neck. The tiny hairs of his evening shadow tickled her and made her grin widen.
He hugged her back in full and kissed her forehead. It was a gentle, chaste kiss, but for a woman who had not been able to be touched without fear for so many years, and had only been touched before by people who had not had her best interest genuinely at heart, it was a wonderful, passionate moment. She melted entirely into his arms, letting him sway with her into the evening breeze. They had been supposed to go down into the Thieves' Guild tonight, but that wasn't happening. They were going to stay right here in this very room for days and make up for all the time they'd come so close to losing forever.
"Ah love you, Cajun," she whispered into his neck.
"Ah love you too, Chere," he whispered in return and pledged his love with a scorching kiss.
The End
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Gambit/Rogue, Mystique(/Destiny)
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: At the end of the day, no matter what her mother causes, Rogue's still standing, and she's far from alone.
Word Count: 1115
Written For: Superhero Land 8x13: Pass-It-On Writing
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She couldn't believe it. No, actually, she could. She knew Raven Darkholme better than anybody. She knew her mother better than her mother's own, blood son did. Kurt still sometimes hoped she could reform, but Rogue knew better. Mystique was always everything for however it could benefit her. Even when she was supporting causes, even when she claimed to be fighting for one dream or another, she was always just looking to benefit her own self.
There were tears in Rogue's emerald green eyes as she stared out at the bayou night. Her life had finally been going so well, and then as she always did, Mystique had shown up to ruin everything. Only, Remy hadn't let her ruin it. She actually had a man, a friend and lover, who stood beside her no matter what lies her mother spread, no matter what evils she threatened. She still had one person who believed in her -- only, not just one.
Not just one at all, Rogue thought, her chin lifting a little. Her tears slowed as she gave a soft sniffle. Not just one at all! She had had so many teammates check in on her today. Charles, though he had been hundreds of miles away when Mystique had pulled what she had, had been the first one to reach out to her. The touch of his mind on hers had been gentle, exploring but not pushing. He had actually made a small confession to her today too. He also had an "evil" mutant who would never let him rest, and who he could never quite get out of his system. It turned out that he and Magneto had shared much more than most of the X-Men would ever guess. Rogue herself had already known -- Erik had confessed his steady love for Charles on one of their many trips to the Savage Land --, but she had not realized that the Professor had felt the same. They really were a star-crossed match, but their feelings were far from what she and Mystique.
Her soft, crying voice turned into a snigger at that thought. Mystique had never loved her. She'd been a naive fool to ever believe it. Somehow, she had heard about the mutant child about the "great" gift of being able to steal other people's conscience being loose in the Mississippi woods. She had hunted her down on purpose, and she had trained her to be her hunting dog, not unlike Ahab did to Rachel in the future. She and Ray had shared many talks for the two of them could understand each other on a level that few others could. They had been created, trained, and honed to be as evil as they possibly could be, weapons of utter destruction toward their own kind, and when they had dared to rebel against their masters, the people who thought themselves their owners had done everything they could to beat them back into submission.
Rogue wondered where Rachel was now. She was pretty certain she was no longer in the current time stream, but she hoped the poor girl had not been sucked back into another time with Ahab, another place where she was forced to be the Hound. It took everything they could not to be the weapons into which they had been sculpted, but at least Rachel had been beaten into submission from the moment Ahab had first set his sights on her. In some ways, Rogue felt, that was an easier fate that what Mystique had done to her.
There had been a time when she had truly believed Raven loved her, a time when she honored Raven and Irene as far better parents than the ones onto whom she had been born. There had been a time when those women and their team of evil mutants had been her family, and she would have done anything they asked without ever thinking to ask questions. But then, one by one, she had started to notice that the X-Men were helping people while they tortured innocents. She began to recognize that Raven didn't care who they killed -- and although Irene did, she turned a blind eye where her beloved Raven was concerned. She could have stopped, but she had never dared to stand up to her. She had never dared to rebel against the woman she loved.
But didn't love mean calling the other one out when they were wrong? Didn't love mean not being afraid of each other? Didn't love mean being able to speak honestly with one another about anything and everything but especially morals? Didn't love mean cherishing one another above all else? Raven should have stopped those few times Irene had asked her to, but she never had. She never would. Because unlike Irene Adler, Raven Darkholme -- if indeed that was even her real name -- did not feel love for anyone but herself.
That recognition made Rogue shiver. She looked up as Remy entered their room. "Chere," he asked softly, coming straight to her, "are you all right?" He must have asked her that a hundred times today, but Rogue just nodded glumly yet again. All her true family, all her real friends, were genuinely concerned and worried about her. What did it matter that her mother had never loved her? That bitch wasn't her real ma no matter what, but beyond that, she was cared about. She was loved.
He wrapped his arms around her, and Rogue sighed in an altogether different tone as she leaned back into his loving, reassuring embrace. "What's a girl to do?" she asked, and then shook her head. "Ah am so lucky Ah have you, Remy," she turned, hugged him tightly, and buried her face in his neck. The tiny hairs of his evening shadow tickled her and made her grin widen.
He hugged her back in full and kissed her forehead. It was a gentle, chaste kiss, but for a woman who had not been able to be touched without fear for so many years, and had only been touched before by people who had not had her best interest genuinely at heart, it was a wonderful, passionate moment. She melted entirely into his arms, letting him sway with her into the evening breeze. They had been supposed to go down into the Thieves' Guild tonight, but that wasn't happening. They were going to stay right here in this very room for days and make up for all the time they'd come so close to losing forever.
"Ah love you, Cajun," she whispered into his neck.
"Ah love you too, Chere," he whispered in return and pledged his love with a scorching kiss.
The End
