𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂, 𝓼𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻.

[mon coeur] non chere! i didn’t mean that! i hit send too soon! someone honked their car horn behind me an i got startled [mon coeur] would an emoji sell it better? [mon coeur] ❤❤❣❣💕💕 [mon coeur] c'est vrai! it’s true, i swear! [mon coeur] aw non! if i sleep on the couch, i might fall off! you wouldn’t do that to me, would you, chere? i might hurt somethin important!

Who the hell did he think he was? The nerve of her! She had him in her grasp like an errant child and now she was demanding he explain himself as well. Loki was flabbergasted. “I should not even deign to reply, but since you seem to be completely ignorant of things everyone should know, you are unceremoniously assaulting a god! I am Loki of Asgard, and I do not take kindly to such blatant disrespect!” He could accept that not every mortal upon Midgard knew him by appearance, but he would have thought–would have hoped–that his reputation since the attack on New York had spread enough by now. At least the Avengers’ interference had assured that much. “I trust you understand how much of a grievous error you are committing by daring to equate a being such as myself with common criminals.”

Perhaps she was not wrong on that count; Loki had met far too many overconfident mortal men to disagree. But for her to think he was merely claiming to be a god was possibly the worst slander yet. “I am not inflating my status nor do I peddle in cheap tricks. But after such treatment, I certainly would not be opposed to seeing you bow before me!” Again he did not think she was wrong about him not having met a woman like her. Loki had not encountered many women with the strength and the audacity to manhandle him in such a way. And as riled as he was, he did not truly want to find out if she could make good on her claim. Especially the way she tightened her grip. “I will speak to you any way I choose, woman, and if you do not want to suffer the wrath of a god, you will release me!” The fact that he had to demand his release was terribly galling, but sadly her strength was formidable, and if she chose to keep him in her grasp, Loki could do little to counter it.

/

Loki of Asgard. Anna wished she could have said that she hadn’t heard of him just to prod him further, but there was no use — and no masking the recognition that washed over her face. “I thought the Avengers were supposed t’ handle ya…” It wouldn’t have been the first time that the Avengers dropped the ball — and it sure as hell hadn’t been the last either. But she didn’t allow herself to be focused on the Avengers. The ones that were rewarded for having powers, for being different, for being enhanced — for being the very things that the X-Men were forced to be by circumstance… Rogue didn’t focus on that. Or at least, she tried not to. Instead, she focused her feelings of irritation on Loki. Keeping her grip on him firm as he kept speaking. “Maybe ya ain’t a common criminal, but ya sure as hell ain’t squeaky clean either. Ya got any proof that ya just not usin’ the other crime as a cover? Because frankly, being Loki don’t mean much t’ me. Just tells me ya are exactly the kind of man I pegged ya for.”

Rogue huffed a laugh and pushed a smile to her face, one that easily seen as fake and for show. “Ya gonna be sorely disappointed then, cause I bow for no man.” Or woman for that matter, Rogue had never been in the habit of bending to the will of others, and she certainly wasn’t going to do it here. But the more he spoke, the more infuriated that Rogue became. Her grip changed, it wasn’t just tighter — it was meaner. A shade more cruel as she shoved him against the building they were by. “Call me womanone more time,” Rogue dared. “For a God, ya don’t seem t’ know shit about manners. Askin’ a girl t’ bow t’ ya when ya first meet… talkin’ to me like I’m just any other woman — ya need a fresh course on how t’ woe a woman — and how t’ say please. Maybe if ya ask real nice I’ll let ya go. Or maybe ya tell me what ya were doin’ sneakin’ around if not takin’ advantage?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Illyana said once she stopped laughing, though the amusement was still clear on her face. She still remembered the first time she’d accidentally summoned demons, fortunately Katya hadn’t been in their room at that time and she’d managed to send them back before they could escape the room. “Yes, he’s a demon” she nodded, still finding the situation amusing. “Do you want me to just send him back to teach you how to do it in case it happens again?”

/

Inhaling deeply, Anna managed to squash some of the panic that had built up in her chest. A short nod in Illyana’s direction and Anna offered a confirmation. “if this is somethin’ that happened often t’ ya when ya first got ya powers… I’m thinking ya might want t’ teach me how t’ send ‘em back.” After all, Anna couldn’t call Illyana each time this happened — and there was a chance that Illyana might be too busy to help too. “What do I need t’ do?”

She might have noticed that he had left, but if she had no idea how long he had been gone, something was very wrong. Remy did not want to think she was having a problem with him, that perhaps living together had not turned out the way she had thought it would. He might have his share of bad habits, but he could not bear to think that he might have done something to offend her that badly. Yet the way Rogue was talking, sounding so distant, did not sound like she was mad at him. It sounded like she was upset, yes, but they had had plenty of arguments before, and if Remy was the object of her distress, it would have come out in a much more fiery and loud way. “Non, you didn’t,” he said sadly, “But I ain’t gon’ be upset ‘bout dat. I jus’ wanna know what it is dat’s got you in such a state, if it ain’t me.”

No, it was not him. It was her mother. As much as Remy and Mystique had never seen eye to eye, she had meant so much to Rogue, and knowing this had been weighing on her heart made everything clear. So Mystique had been shot after their clash with the protesters at Stark Tower. Everything had been chaotic then; it made sense that something like that could have happened without many people knowing about it, especially considering the way Mystique always operated. But then Rogue spoke again, revealing she had not only known about it since then, she had been there and had obviously eased her mother’s passing in her own unique way. She did not need to elaborate. Remy knew exactly what she meant. Seeing her so anguished was like a knife in his heart. No matter what he had felt about Mystique, he would not have wanted Rogue to lose her mother like that. 

As she covered her face, Remy slowly sat down on the couch beside her. “You deserve happiness too, chere,” he said softly, “No one asked you t’ shoulder dis burden all dis time. Your momma wouldn’t have wanted dat. Even I know she wouldn’t have wanted you t’ suffer.” Gently, he reached out and put his hand on her back. “You can handle a lot on your own, I know, but you didn’t need t’ hold dat in. We both tend t’ have dat problem, tryin’ t’ handle t'ings ourselves an’ not t’ bother anyone else. But you gotta realize you ain’t ever gonna bother me by tellin’ me what’s weighin’ on you. Even if I might not have been on de best o’ terms wit’ your momma, I know what she meant t’ you. An’ what’s important t’ you, Anna, is always important t’ me. Always.”

/

He called her out and immediately the smile on her face cracked. The lie she had been practicing in her head had slipped away as quickly as she had tried to form it. Anna looked at her hands before wrapping herself up with her own arms. “I did,” she tried again, but failing to sound any more confident in her assertion as she had earlier. If anything, her argument had weakened. Her gaze straying from Remy, trying to find something else to focus on because lying to his face was much harder than telling a lie to a wall. But the false happiness  and the blatant lies about why she was air headed had crumbled so quickly, Craving an understanding that was only achievable through other people.

Anna didn’t blame Remy for his distrust and dislike of her mother — but there was a reason that he hadn’t been her first call. Because she knew what he thought of her mother, knew the distrust that he felt in her direction — knew that he’d care because Anna cared, but not because Mystique mattered to him. And knowing that made her ache. She knew that he’d sit next to her and be with her while she tired to sort out her feelings, she knew that he’d support her as she needed it — but she knew that he didn’t feel much of anything positive for her mother. And so she had bottled it up. Kept it close to her chest and wrapped her heart around it, waning to make sure that her mother was remembered — wanting to drown the memories she was left with in love.

The cushions shifted as Remy sat down next to her, and the closeness of him pushed her further over the edge. The tears coming more freely and her mind screaming at her to stop and her heart screaming at her to let out every bit of grief that had been residing in her chest since Mystique died. No happy balance to be found. Anna took in a deep breath, trying to stop her tears and the thumping in her chest, trying to find a calm to form the words, but she looked at Remy and shook her head. “I didn’t think ya’d —“ her voice kept cracking, no matter how slow she spoke, no matter how calm she tried to be. “I wasn’t sure anyone would care t’ listen. And I didn’t…” She looked away from him again, staring at the door that was tempting her with an out. “Didn’t want ya t’ have t’ pretend ya care.”  

Rusty told him once, in one of those quiet moments where they were kids instead of soldiers, that he understood why Ric was so angry all the time. You’re mad at the world, he’d said in that quiet way of his, and I get that. The world’s an easy thing to be mad at. But it’s not going to get you anyplace worth getting, you know? It’s not gonna make anything easier to carry. And Rictor knew Rusty was right, knew that Rusty was almost always right, but god, he didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how not to be angry, didn’t know how to take the rage he’d been carrying for as long as he could remember and set it aside. There was nowhere to put it, nothing else to do with it. It was with him and it was him and without it, he didn’t think he was anything at all. 

And Rogue made it easy. He was almost grateful for that, sometimes. She took that rage that he already felt and she gave him a direction to point it. She gave him a target, a thing to be angry at. And he liked to pretend that that was a good thing, liked to act like shattering the whole damn world beneath his fingertips was a productive way to grieve. Rictor could shake this whole bar to pieces, could bring the roof down atop their heads, could give every human in it and every one who watched the news and read the papers more of a reason to hate him, and he’d still be angry. He’d probably always be angry, no matter how many times he lashed out. And maybe things would be better if he brought the place down. Maybe if he was caught up in the destruction of his own natural disaster, maybe if he crushed himself under the roof and the support beams and the —

The feeling of her skin on his was excruciating, jarring him from his thoughts. And then it was as if there were no thoughts, as if there was no him, as if the only thing that existed was this stream of consciousness flowing from him to her, lapping him up. There’d be nothing left soon, if there was ever anything at all. And, deep down, Ric knew he’d prefer that. She was seeing pieces of him that he’d never shown anyone. He could feel them going into her, almost see them floating in the air between them like hazy mirages in the desert. The roof of XFI with Jamie’s dupe shoving him over the ledge. A different roof with Christmas lights strung around him and a bottle of whiskey in his hands before Jessica dragged him down. 

A girl who could have lived, who’d died like he was dying now with Rogue’s skin on hers. And Rictor wasn’t a hero, knew that he didn’t have the temperament to be what the X-Men wanted him to be or the morality to be one of those rare mutants the Avengers might try to recruit, but watching that girl die and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it had been less of a reminder of the fact and more of the fact shaping itself into a bullet and launching itself between his ribs. 

He almost didn’t realize she’d pulled away from him at first. The pain was gone, the feeling was gone, but the ghost of it was still there. And part of him wanted to grab her arm, wanted to put her hand back against his cheek, wanted to tell her to fucking finish it already because every time he narrowly escaped death it felt more like defeat than victory, felt more disappointing than relieving. She was looking at him with the eyes of someone who knew a little too much and Rictor’s chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with her powers and the world was still shaking but it wasn’t him tearing it apart this time. It was her, with his powers and his memories and his grief, and she was asking him a question he’d been trying to answer for himself for years now. 

How do you stop it? And Ric was going to tell her he didn’t know, was going to say you don’t, was going to let her bring the building down on both of them because at least then something would be over in a way that didn’t leave him to deal with the aftermath. He was going to let her do it… but he remembered an alley. He remembered being so afraid, thinking that if he cracked the goddamn world in half at least he’d have done something, at least he’d have some kind of an effect. He remembered Daisy finding him, taking his hand in hers. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rictor nodded. He took Rogue’s hand — the one still covered with a glove — and he released gentle vibrations from his fingertips into hers. “Focus on this,” he said hoarsely, an echo from another time, in another place. “Match the frequency.” 

Being a mutant came with baggage. It wasn’t something that was optional that you could shove aside when you realized what you were, it was thrust into your hands with no consideration with how old you were or what you had gone through — their mutations didn’t care where they had come from or what life they’d be forced to live after realizing what they could do. But for Rogue, she had always taken it upon herself to say that hers was the heaviest. And in some ways, it might have been. Harming her young boyfriend — and eventually becoming his murdered because of something she couldn’t control — it was a feeling that she couldn’t shake.

But now it was heightened to a capacity that Rogue had only thought of in terms of Jean and when the Phoenix grew too powerful — she thought of it in terms of her own powers if she absorbed too much of something she didn’t understand. Something just like this. Her heart pounding rapidly in her chest and her own panic only growing with each tick of her heart. The world around them shaking in tandem. And the more afraid she grew, the faster the quakes came. Too quick to be natural — too focused to be natural or random… she would end up drawing the attention of far more than the people in the bar and that brought up her pulse further. Her mind swarming with the worst thoughts imaginable. (And was that the influence of Ric’s mind on her — or was that Rogue? Who could answer that?)

She wished she could push it down. Wished it was like Scott’s powers where she could just close her eyes. Wished it was something that she could shove into a corner of her mind and forget about in a few minutes. But this wasn’t like anyone else she had stolen from. Every emotion was intense to the point that Rogue felt sick. The vibrations in the air around her felt like little daggers on her skin, and each movement around them echoed — like it was speaking to her. The whole world was alive in a way she had never seen before… and she was begging it to stop. For a moment, she wasn’t sure that anything would answer back.

Maybe this was it, maybe Rogue would bring the building down around then and they’d die under a few tons of rubble. And maybe they’d deserve it. A feeling that she didn’t fully understand and still she choked on it. Tears in her eyes and this gripping fear in her heart that begged to die before she took anyone else out. Begged to be the one to go so that people around her would be safe — and so that she could rest. (How much of that was Ric? And how much of that was Rogue? She couldn’t answer. She was accustomed to blending with people, but this was… it was tapping into different feelings inside of her. Feelings she didn’t understand — that she hadn’t combated. And now that they were floating to the front of her mind, she didn’t know what to do.)

Ric reached out to her, and Rogue’s first impulse was to pull away before she could get another dose of this. But he took the gloved hand and her breathing came easier. A gentle pulse came from his hand towards hers, unlike the one she felt when she was robbing him of his powers and mind — trying to prove a point only to get smacked with it in the end. “Okay,” she said softly, swallowing as she closed her eyes and tried to shut out the world around them. Her heart thumping nervously with more thoughts, knowing that there was no way that the other people in the bar didn’t know what they were, knowing that they had to have attracted the attention of the higher authorities. (Sentinels or enforcers —one of them had to be on their way.)

The trembling started to slow as Rogue gripped his hand tightly. Clinging to the touch like he’d pull away and leave her to deal with this on her own if she didn’t force him to stay. But as the trembling slowed and Rogue kept breathing in pace with the quiet vibrations from Ric, Rogue could feel her heart returning to a normal pace too. The fear was still rooted there, deep enough she couldn’t shake it as easily as she would have any other night — but it was manageable now.

They were definitely in agreement that the only people who would dropping in at this time of night would be people they would have invited. And since neither of them had invited anyone, that meant trouble. Remy was ready to fight off whoever it was, but having a fight in the apartment was not how he had wanted to spend the night. “Wasn’t dat nice o’ a watch. It’ll probably get me some decent cash at de pawn shop, but it wasn’t no family heirloom.” Certainly it was nothing anyone was going to follow him back to the apartment over. No, this intrusion was something different.

Boy, was it ever. When Remy flung open the bedroom door, he could not believe his eyes. Having expected a fight with a human or mutant intruder, the demon in the kitchen was a complete shock. Yet Rogue did not seem as shocked. In fact, she did not seem surprised to see the demon at all. “Que l'enfer? Were you ‘spectin’ t’ see dis t'ing?” These powers…did this have something to do with her encounter with Illyana? Because she was the only person Remy knew with connections to demons. He watched her throw the remote at the demon, completely dumbfounded by this turn of events. “Uh, you got some better way t’ command it, chere? 'Cause I don’ t'ink it’s gonna follow 'sit’ or 'stay’.”

Commands might not be working with the demon, but Rogue seemed to be able to understand whatever gibberish it was speaking. Remy stared incredulously between her and the demon, finally huffing and putting his hands on his hips. “You wanna let me in on dis conversation? Mon Dieu, usually I’m de one no one can understand!” Puppy eyes? Was she serious? What did it want? Food, apparently. “Oui, I guessed it was somet'ing you got from her. But…wait. It wants t’ eat some food? My food? You gotta be kiddin’ me, chere! I don’ be doin’ no cookin’ for un démon! No way! Can’t you channel whatever magic mumbo jumbo from Illyana an’ send it back where it came from?”

The watch he stole was the least of their problems. The more he spoke about what it looked like… the more that Anna realized that no one would have chased him this far to get it back. Not unless there was something secret or magical about it and Remy just didn’t know yet. (But again, would that be their luck?) Anna nodded her head, clenching her fist, knowing that if it came to a fight in their home, she was better with her hands than anything else. But she was sure that the apartment couldn’t take a brawl. And their neighbors might have some complaints about it.

But clearly… she had more explaining to do. “I…” Anna cleared her throat and crossed her arms, looking at the creature that was across the room from them. It looked terrifying for many reasons — but for the most part, it was laced with embarrassment. Illyana’s powers had been fading and with it, she had assumed that the accidental demon summoning would stop… but clearly this was more long term than Anna had first imagined. (And more long term than most of the other abilities that she had absorbed — and a quiet fear crawled up her spine, wondering if this would be… permanent.) “I might of… done this once before,” Anna offered quietly, not looking Remy in the eyes. “I thought it would stop though! Honest t’ God! I didn’t realize it would linger so much, sugar.” A quick cover as if she hadn’t had an issue earlier in the day.

Jean was well used to beginning again. She came back from the ground and was confronted with the fact that she couldn’t merely slip back into her old life, because her chapter was well over for everyone else around her. They’d moved to the middle of the book and she was still firmly in the prologue, looking at how they’d grown and changed around each other and wondering if she’d ever be able to compare. She died when Rogue was barely an X-Man and came back to see how close she was to Scott, to see her flourishing in her role. She died again and returned to find that the other woman had left, that she was tracking across America and no one could find her until she wanted them to. It felt as if Jean kept dropping in and missing major moments, but this time, she’d been a part of creating them. She remained in the story, came back in an instant in the park instead of losing out on months or years.

It felt something like a blessing, even if there were sharp points to consider (there were always sharp points. Nothing was perfect). “Ric says this place is going to be a constant,” she said with a soft smile. “He promised it was solid as a rock. I don’t know how much his word is worth, but for what it counts, there was no trace of dishonesty in him.” X-Factor was well known among mutants for being something of a Russian roulette, but Jean couldn’t deny the power that had flown through him when Genosha appeared from the waves. They were using their destruction to build something, now, and that counted for more than anything else. “Are you joining us here? I wouldn’t mind having you as a neighbour, you know, in case we needed sugar.”

Despite her best intentions, Rogue’s hand in hers brought back memories of the park, of that shock in her gut, the air being knocked from her lungs. The Phoenix burned in the back of her mind, and Jean thanked her wordlessly for protecting her, for kicking in now as she should have back when it counted – until Rogue lifted herself from the ground, and Jean realised it wasn’t the bird. It was her friend.

A wide grin came over Jean’s face, and she felt her own heart lift as she floated to the same level. “This is you?” she asked, gesturing to her hand, to her feet off the floor, to the smile on her face. “What … when did this happen? Rogue, this is amazing!”

It was the first time that Anna heard Ric’s name and didn’t have a visceral reaction — no turning up of her nose or quick pull to a different topic of conversation. No short words about how he was a dick and nothing else. Understanding had… come so late for them, but it had happened. (Not because they had properly cleared the air, it was because of what she had borrowed from him… and what she had almost stolen.) “He didn’t do half bad with this,” she said, kicking the ground as she spoke, quietly hoping that Ric would feel it wherever he was curse her for it. “One thing he won’t lie about, he’s very sensitive about dirt.” It was the one thing that Anna knew he took seriously. Everything else? It was a mixed bag of things that could be manipulative or outright lies — or just him being a dick to be one. But quietly, Anna was glad that Ric got a chance to do something more with his powers. Pulling out of the hole that she had been in for so long as well; constant fear that her powers would destroy those closest to her — though Ric’s was a much larger scale.

“That a joke about my accent, Jean?’ Anna asked, quirking a brow as she spoke. But the smile on her face came so easily. It felt strangely good, so normal, so… casual. Like they were two people who were alive rather than pulling away from anything and everything that made her feel. “I said a lot of things,” Anna admitted, she had been so adamant that Erik’s plan was foolish and that they were inviting more problems than they’d solve by starting a war… but Jean had been right. It was something worth fighting for. Something worth building. And Anna couldn’t say if she had the change of heart or if the motivations of Mystique that she had absorbed had changed it — but this place already felt more like a home than anywhere else she had stepped foot. “If they still got housin’, I’m here. It’s about time I had somethin’ of my own… you know, roots.”

Robbie had never gotten along well with people as a whole. They talked too much, they asked too many questions, they were annoying over all. He’d never been friends with his coworkers, never joined them on nights out or watched the games he knew they’d be talking about at work the next day. They’d always joked about it, at Canelo’s. Reyes is too busy chasing tail to make time for sports, Alejandro used to whoop, clapping him on the shoulder and ignoring the way he tensed under his touch. He kept his distance, most of the time. But… Anna wasn’t so bad. “Ha,” he said dryly, shaking his head. “Like they’d bother investigating my death to begin with. You’d probably be in the clear, chica.” A dark sentiment, but probably a true one. The reason Ghost Rider had been able to fly under the radar for so long in L.A. was the simple fact that brown bodies on the streets didn’t often draw dedicated investigations.

“And I’m using what the devil gave me,” he quipped back, wriggling his fingers as if to demonstrate what it was the devil had given him. It was a joke that would have been funnier to someone who knew the full story, but Robbie had never minded sharing private jokes with himself. “It’s a good thing you’re not classy, then, isn’t it?” He grinned, holding up his glass in a toast. The smile faded, of course, when she mentioned his recent behavior. The worst part was, Robbie wasn’t sure if she meant his low mood since his return from Hell or if she was referring to something Eli had done. “Can you be a little more specific? I’ve been acting lots of ways.”

/

Anna had taken a long drink when Robbie spoke, choking on her drink when he said that she’d be in the clear — she was reminded of everyone else who had that same sentiment, though, most of the people who came to mind were mutants. “Ain’t that the truth. They’ll get caught between catching a mutant and do we really care about what happened.” Which was probably too real for tonight. The city was at war and everything around them was shifting — and they were talking about if they would get away with murdering each other or not. And Anna couldn’t pretend that there was a cop out there that would give a shit if either of them ended up face down in the street.

“Ain’t the sayin’ that ya using what God gave ya?” Anna shot back but shrugged. They were all a lot closer to the devil than they were to God, if Anna was really measuring their actions. He leaned into her joke and immediately, Anna was elbowing him. “It went without sayin’, Reyes.” But the jokes had faded, the bartender was looking In their direction, still unaware of the stolen liquor in their glasses… and the bar was quiet. (An angel passed over. That was what her Aunt would have said.) “I know it ain’t really my place to pry… but a couple months ago? I don’t know what was goin’ on but clearly somethin’ happened. Felt like I was talkin’ to myself when I was…” In the Brotherhood? “When I was a different kind o’ woman.”

She was joking right back at him, which was one of the many reasons why Remy loved her. In reality, he would never expect her to do anything like that by herself. They were sharing the chore duties, just as he hoped they would share everything. Yet even though he knew she was teasing, he grinned nonetheless. “Oh parfait! I gon’ actually look like a respectable guy for a change! See, dat’s why I need you around, chere. T’ make me better dan I am.” Remy was only half joking on that count. Rogue really did make him better, in every way. 

While he might not have known what would have actually entailed “girl talk,” he could have guessed that Illyana had come to see Rogue for another purpose. Whatever that purpose was, it must have been something big, because she would not be offering him to touch her directly without the collar if…if things were still the same. Remy trusted her. They had been through enough with Rogue’s powers for him to know that she would not make such an offer unless she knew that there was nothing to fear. 

And as he took her hand, he realized there really was nothing to fear. There was nothing at all, nothing except Rogue and the feel of her hand in his–no gloves, no collar, no power drain. Just her. “Chere…Mon Dieu…” he breathed as she held his hand tighter. He could not believe it. She had control, real control. “Dis is…amazin’.” Remy could not fathom what it was Rogue had gotten in her exchange with Illyana, but he was not going to wonder about the whys. He was much too busy focusing on the feeling. “Not too bad at all!” A smile spread across his face, and  he reached out to grab her other hand, clutching both tightly. As excited as he was, he knew she had to be even more thrilled. “Oh Anna, dis is magnifique! I know how much you been hopin’ for dis. Guess it’s true dat t'ings come along when you least ‘spect dem to, huh?” Chuckling, he added, “I’d try t’ return de collar, but somehow I t'ink dere customer service would be pretty lousy.”

/

Anna immediately rolled her eyes in response, but the smile on her face betrayed the love in her heart. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far,” she quipped. But part of that reluctance to say that he’d be respectable (or different) was that she liked him just the way he was, and she’d never be the one to push him to change. “Besides, if ya start showin’ up looking fancy all the time, ya might start up stagin’ me, and I can’t have that, sugar.”

He had hesitated in taking her hand and Anna didn’t blame him in the slightest. She had spent the better part of her life being afraid of what she could do and to finally have even a moment of control was — it was good. Especially when it came from within and rather than a collar that dampened her powers and brought on headaches that were impossible to combat. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when he finally touched her hand. Relief that was overwhelming. Anna laughed, excitement bubbling over that threatened to turn into tears.

[ ✉️ -> Rogue]: i have no idea what it was about [ ✉️ -> Rogue]: what beans? [ ✉️ -> Rogue]: what were the beans? [ ✉️ -> Rogue]: that’s what i said! […] [ ✉️ -> Rogue]: yeah… kind of saw that coming [ ✉️ -> Rogue]: how are you doing?

(✉️ ➡️ Lorna ): So, Erik didn’t even tell the whole story?  (✉️ ➡️ Lorna ): Typical. (✉️ ➡️ Lorna ): Remy exploded some beans!  (✉️ ➡️ Lorna ): I feel like we should make it a holiday, get them matching shirts. 

Wanda nodded slowly. “Most people didn’t. He could be very… intense,” she said, a soft smile coming to her face. “He wasn’t into the big picture, you know? The details, the small things, that’s what he paid attention to.” She shrugged, pulled her shawl over her shoulders. “I know. Family is just… sometimes you don’t know what it is until you have it. Or until you lose it,” she said softly.

The grief was palpable between them, but it was far from a simple emotion. It had so many faces, rage and sorrow and pain — and silence. Sometimes silence could say more than any voice, grant an understanding that words could not convey. “Pietro didn’t believe in dying for a cause,” she said, looking Rogue in the eye. “But the tiny things. Just one life, that’s something he was willing to die for. After he told me to be careful,” she said, shaking her head. 

/

The more that Wanda spoke about her brother, the more that Anna felt like she’d have liked him. But there was a moment, right after Wanda said that some people didn’t realize what family was until they had it — or lost it. And Anna fell silent Mystique had been a mother to Anna in more ways than her own mother, but she couldn’t fault her own family for it. Anna had taken to running at a young age, robbing anyone who might have wanted to be in her life of the chance because... it was easier on her. (And now she was alone again. Not by choice. But by some twisted sense of fate or destiny. Anna Marie scorned her biological family, it only made sense that she’d be unable to find peace in one that she had found.) 

“I had a family back home, still do. Aunt Carol is still kickin’ around but I can’t imagine she’d be thrilled t’ see me after all these years.” But the desire to go back and see her — it was there. Just to have something to hold onto. (And in that moment, Anna’s mind drifted towards who Mystique considered family — and that longing quietly shifted towards them.) “Momma was the same way, as it turns out.” A bitterness in her voices that hadn’t been three before. “I just... I didn’t see it until it was too late. And... I know she’d let others die for her cause, I just never thought she’d...” purposefully put herself in the line of fire? For anyone? “She died to save my life and I don’t know what t’ do with that.”

She didn’t know what had brought her here, if it was her desire to see the Professor after everything that had happened or a new voice in her head that was reminding her that there were other people in Mystique’s life that had been family. People that might let someone like Anna in if she was around more than just a few minutes of the day. But no one seemed to question why she was there, at least out loud. They looked at her and in a horrifying way, understood where her head was at. Like there was no door between the outside world and her thoughts — and not because the Professor was a telepath — it was because it was just so obvious and Anna didn’t know how to make it less so. Didn’t know how to pretend to be okay.

No one asked and Anna never offered an explanation — it was easier to let them understand in quiet. But then moments like this snuck up on her where Anna wanted something that she knew wouldn’t be offered. No one looked at her and thought that she needed a hug or wanted to be touched, she had spent the better part of her life making sure people didn’t do that. Pushing them away readily.

Ask for what you need. Anna stood there in silence for a long moment, knowing that he wouldn’t shove her out the door — and knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that he’d let her decide where this went — what or who they talked about and for how long — he might not hav said it, but the way he was positioned and simply the way he was as a person, Anna knew. And so, after she took a long look around the room and took in all the changes from his last office — looked at the scattered notes that she assumed were lesson plans and the start of the school being reopened here — she finally asked for what she wanted. He seemed like he was done with working at least for the night, maybe he’d have time. (Was it pathetic that she was there — asking for company because for some reason it felt like his was the only one that could help? Maybe. But a greater part of her didn’t care if it looked that way.)

Wordlessly, he moved and had barely pressed the invitation before Anna was on the couch next to him, falling into the same spot her mother had in her memories — the same spot that Anna had taken with her mother countless times before. It was a spot of safety. Where she could hear his heartbeat like she used to hear her mother’s. He spoke in the way that he could speak, his words quietly echoing in her mind, barely sounding above the other noise in there. (She had so much in there — so many people who kept talking over her own thoughts — she wondered what it was like to read her mind.)

“I know,” she whispered out loud, wondering if saying it out loud was better or worse. (Either way, she was sure the crack in her words would have been noticeable.) “I saw it a few times, like a…” Mystique wouldn’t have felt it the way that Anna did, her and her mother were cut from very different cloths, but the way that Anna felt when she saw those memories? The small flashes of Charles reading his books while on the couch with her, existing next to Mystique in a way that didn’t ask anything else of her — it was relaxing. But mostly? It was safe. Anna felt safe when she saw those. “Like somethin’ that was safe. Ain’t a lot of that around, ya know?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, barely cutting into the air.

She smirked and nodded. The guy looked undeterred, not imagining that two women he had at least half a foot on each would pack much of a punch. He didn’t know better than to not underestimate either of them. And Lorna would happily let Rogue deck the guy, hell she might take a swing if he didn’t back off soon enough. Until he shifted.

Lorna should’ve felt it sooner. But sometimes, she just let the metal she could detect become a background blur, especially in the city. When she saw that glint of laughter in Rogue’s eyes–too quick for any stranger to see–and saw what she’d seen, Lorna felt both exhausted and amused. They truly had no idea who they were messing with. But with the way the man’s fingers twitched towards his belt, Lorna felt anger. With a flick of her fingers, the gun dropped away from his belt and came to her outstretched hand, pointed now directly at its owner.

“What do you think?” she said, talking to Rogue but not taking her eyes off the now finally nervous expression on the human’s face. 

/

Anna looked at the man when Lorna spoke, her dark eyes taking in every expression that came forth — the fear that finally sunk in and the satisfaction of him realizing that he had fucked up. Yes, they were two women — but they were mutants first. And being women and mutant? That only fueled their rage. Made them stronger. (Anna had hoped for a fight, and this man — this boy had all too readily provided one.) 

The question brought Anna to a false pause, her head tipping to the side as if to get a better view of the man’s features, when in reality, she couldn’t care less. The world was a dark place already, and it would be a little brighter without him in it. Her mindset too easily slipped back into who she had been when she had stood at Erik’s side in the Brotherhood. This was a war and the people who decided to come at them in the streets and threaten them? They weren’t bystanders. They were participants. Fighting against them. Trying to force mutants back into the box they were climbing out of.

Grief was a paralytic.  Erik had never been able to afford standing still in the wake of tragedy.  Fight, flight, or freeze, it was supposed to be, but Erik had never once been one to freeze for long.  Freezing kept you in the line of fire, and Erik had never been fool enough to believe docility would make the danger spare you.  No, better to fight, or to fly.  Run away, plan, turn paralyzing grief into motivating anger, and make them pay.

The notion of grieving–properly grieving, and publicly at that, made something in the pit of his stomach get tangled up.  He hasn’t let himself grieve over anyone since Vinnitsa.

And that was why he knew he needed to.  Because he knew well the crippling weight of grieving alone, and he would never–never–let Anna go through that by herself.  Remy and Jean would make themselves available for her, no doubt, but they would be there for her, not for Raven.  There were few feelings worse than the yawning pit in your stomach that said one of the people you held dearest in the world would never be missed by anyone but you. 

Erik pressed a kiss to the top of Anna’s head–small, familial, meant to reassure rather than anything else (though he could practically see Remy getting red in the face at the idea despite those days being long behind them).  “I know you could, Anna.  But no one should have to mourn alone.”  

He stepped back, hands sliding down her arms before releasing her after a gentle squeeze to her hands.  “Do you want to sit down?  Have something to drink?”  

/

Trauma was something that simply… came with the territory. It came in equal waves with grief. With death. With loss. With every negative emotion that could register in their brains, it came in waves for mutants. Letting up only long enough for them to get their heads above water and take a gasp of air. But as quickly as their lungs filled, they were pulled under again. Drowning in the tragedy of their lives.

Genosha was supposed to be the air after that storm. The land that had been shaped for them — this was supposed to be their moment. And Anna was trying desperately to give those around her, the ones that she loved, the ones that would have jumped to keep her steady while she was suffering — they deserved this moment of happiness. It was hard earned and Anna knew what it had cost. They all deserved a moment of peace. But Erik and Anna knew better. There was no peace for them. Just another battle lingering on the horizon, beckoning them towards it. (And how long had she avoided it? Let them fight on their own because she thought that she could be above it all — how long?)

His lips against her head and her arms around him, and for a moment, it felt like for once, she was where she should be. With the people she needed, rather than scrambling for some strained meaning in a different city or state or country. It felt like she belonged. Like family. “Thank you,” Anna replied in a whisper. “I was…” Ready to do it alone? Ready to give him an out if he needed it? Ready to stand in the center of the island she had created for herself and come to terms with the world she had created?

But Erik was offering her a hand. Refusing to let her go this path alone — and Anna didn’t have the words in this moment to tell him how much that meant to her. The gap created when he took a step away could have been lightyears with how cold she felt. She crossed her arms and took in a breath, “Tea? Or something stronger, sugar? Because I can’t say I’m against the idea of somethin’ extra.”

A short flurry of text messages and Scott had wasted no time in telling Anna what he had found. Genosha was still new, a small child that needed protection and development — but it was still theirs. A home for mutants. A beacon to bring those who were like them to a place of safety. But... that didn’t happen for everyone. There were people who were like Anna afraid of going near large groups of people because of what her powers could do... and there were others who were held down by their families, forced to pretend they weren’t different. And punished if they couldn’t play the part of a normal human.

Like this kid that Scott had told her about. Locked up in the basement. And Scott was fuming in a way that reminded her of Erik. The good parts of him. Emotions were complicated... and could add extra risk to any situation, but Anna had always found it refreshing when people were honest. (A dying trait, it seemed.) “Scott,” Anna warned quietly, her elbow brushing against his as she spoke. “We need them to cooperate,” she then reminded. Pissed as hell was great, but only when they had a place to focus it. “They might deserve every bad thin’ I can think of — but they’re more likely t’ give her up if they don’t feel threatened, sugar.”