DISCLAIMER: If you know them and love them (or hate them), they aren't mine. If you don't know 'em, they are.
DISTRIBUTION: If you would like permission to archive this story, please email: mydestinyfic@yahoo.com.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at an XFic. If you don't like it, don't read it. I'd like to thank the ladies of the WXF for their support and encouragement. Special thanks to Albertina, Chase and Joanne for beta'ing this for me. Big sloppy baby kisses to Cyn and baby Nicky for their special brand of ego-boostin'. And, finally, if you like it, please let me know. I've already got a few sequels spinning in my brain. Eve and Logan will not be stopped.
SPECIAL NOTE: Look Ma, all that thesis research came in handy for something!
Eve watched the crying girl with the streaked hair from a distance. If the others asked her to explain her sudden departure, she knew she'd never be able to make them understand. The child was calling to her, as they all did from time to time. She hadn't heard the cries, but she'd sensed the pain. It was the same pain she felt in the mutant with the ruby lenses. There was a awful loneliness in all the children here, even the adult children. However, it was amplified in a few, the ones who had to hold themselves separate from their fellow mutants.
She'd come upon the girl talking in a hushed voice with a slender, almost pretty young man with chestnut brown hair. He'd reached for the girl and she'd pulled back abruptly. It angered him. Eve could see the pain and resentment in the boy's face. It wasn't the girl that caused the anger, it was the mutation. He knew that it would always be there, that it would always be in their way.
He said one more hateful thing before getting up and stomping out of the common room.
The girl collapsed inwardly on herself, the only place she had left to go. Sobs shook her body.
Eve frowned in disgust as a small group of children vacated the room without bothering to help the girl. They were afraid. Their furtive glances told Eve that they were sure something bad would happen to them if they stayed around. In Eve's experience, prejudice and fear existed everywhere, if you looked hard enough.
As the room emptied, she made her way to the weeping child. She lay on a small beige couch, her face pressed into the fabric. Eve watched the girl for a moment before making the choice to interject herself into the situation.
"Boys can be hurtful," she said simply.
The girl on the couch stopped crying. Eve sensed that she was trying to place her voice.
"You are Rogue?" she asked.
The child sat up, revealing her tear-stained face and swollen eyes. She stared at Eve for a few moments, obviously trying to figure out who and what she was.
She nodded.
"I'm Rogue," she said. "How did you know?"
Eve smiled.
"The Professor has told me a great deal about you, about your special gifts. They cause you great pain."
"Yes," Rogue said quietly. "I wish I didn't have them. I wish I wasn't a mutant. I just want to be normal."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes I walk outside and watch the squirrels running from tree to tree or people rushing in and out of office buildings, and I think to myself, what it would be to have that. But, I then see a woman being raped or children dying from AIDS and I know that normal isn't all that much better."
"For you, maybe."
"Ahh," Eve said with a smile, "you are so special?"
Rogue nodded.
"Nothing in this world can touch me. I kill everything."
"Everything?"
Rogue nodded sadly.
"Well," she said, with a trace of a smile, "I can touch Wolverine for a second, but only if I'm careful."
Eve grinned.
"You enjoy touching him."
The younger woman blushed.
"Well, you know, he's special. He saved my life."
"Oh, is that why you like touching him?" Eve asked, a teasing note in her voice.
The girl giggled.
"No," she whispered, "he's also a hottie."
Eve threw her head back and rich, throaty laughter filled the room.
Rogue looked at her quizzically.
"You don't think so?"
"Do I find him attractive?" Eve asked.
Rogue nodded emphatically.
Eve thought for a moment, pondering the man she'd met only hours before.
"I suppose," she said, "that I think he has his moments."
"Moments," Rogue said, wrinkling her nose, "don't you mean hours?"
The two women surrendered to their laughter. They clutched their sides as the painful gales shook them. As their laughter died down, Rogue became somber once more.
"But, it's still the same," she said, "I can't touch him for longer than a minute. It hurts, I know it does, even though he'll never admit it."
Eve nodded.
"If you could touch someone, would it matter who it was?"
Rogue looked at her in confusion, not really understanding what the older woman was asking.
"You mean, would I be happy with whoever? I guess so; I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway, there isn't a mutant or human alive that can touch me."
"Ahh," Eve said, "but what of the other things?"
"Other things? There aren't any other things. Oh, you mean like animals and stuff? No, I kill 'em too. I even killed some of Storm's roses the other day while I was watering them."
Eve shook her head.
"No child, the other things that walk this world."
"There are other things?" Rogue asked, a doubtful expression on her face. "Like what?"
"Oh, there are many other things. There are animal spirits and werewolves. Fairies and vampires. I even suspect that the little Irish leprechaun is running around somewhere out there."
Rogue giggled.
"You're kidding, right? You don't really believe in all that stuff."
"Oh no child," Eve said, her face expressionless, "I believe in what I speak."
Rogue looked at her appraisingly.
"What are you?"
Eve grinned.
"I am one of those other things."
Rogue looked confused, obviously unsure of whether the other woman was telling the truth, or if she was just mentally ill. Before she could respond, Rogue felt the cool press of the woman's hands on her face.
"No," she cried, struggling to break free of the woman's grasp, "don't touch me! Stop! I'll kill you!"
The two women shifted violently back and forth on the couch as Rogue tried to escape Eve's fingers.
"Rogue," Eve said quietly, "I am still here. Calm yourself. Hush. It is alright. I am still here."
Rogue stilled, turning her face toward the woman. She was right. She couldn't feel anything. There was nothing pulling inside of her, snaking around in her body like lightning. There was no one else inside but her. She felt a burning pain build at the back of her throat.
Eve watched an overwhelming flood of emotions flicker across Rogue's face. How many years had it been since she had felt this? The press of flesh on flesh without the invasion into her mind and body. She felt the shudder pass through the girl's body as she struggled, taking in great gulps of air.
"Rogue," she said, "my child, let the pain go. Don't struggle against it so. It is ok not to be strong."
She leaned over and pulled the girl into her arms, carefully leaving one palm pressed to her cheek. She rocked the girl gently back and forth as she brushed the tears from her face.
It will be alright child, she thought, it will be alright.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Logan and Jean looked down on the two women from their position on the stairs. They had overheard much of their conversation after escaping from the Professor's study. Jean released the grip she'd placed on Logan's arm to prevent him from interfering with the two women.
"Look," Jean said softly, glancing down at his clenched fists, "she's alright, Logan. Look at her face, she's happy."
Logan had always been protective of Rogue, but had become more so after a nearly deadly encounter with Magneto a few years earlier.
"It's not right," he said through clenched teeth. "Look at them. That's why she left the room, Jean, that's why. She knew Marie was out here. She knew and we didn't. I didn't even think what it could mean when she said they couldn't die." He gestured wildly, a stricken expression on his face. "Look at them. Look at her. She doesn't even look old enough to be Marie's mother. What are we taking away from her?"
He tore his eyes away from the couch and looked at her.
"Hasn't she already suffered enough at the hands of the human race?"
Jean struggled. She knew the Professor had thought this through. He would not have risked upsetting their quiet community without good reason.
"Logan, I know it seems terrible, but look at all she'll gain if she stays. She may not have children of her own, but she will have all of these children. Look at Rogue," she said, clutching his arm again, "really look at her. Look at the joy on her face. Do you want to be the one to take that away?"
"She's been alone a long time, Jean. Maybe she doesn't want to stick around with this bunch, you ever think of that? Ever wonder what she wants?"
Jean smiled. This wasn't just about the new woman.
"You mean she's been alone, like you were alone," she said wryly. "I see you scrambling to pack your bags and get out of here. You leave Logan, but you always come back. As much as you're a loner, you need what's here too. You need us. She'll be the same way."
"You seem pretty cocky. You're forgettin' that she's been at it a lot longer than I have," he growled.
"And," Jean whispered, leaning over so that her face was inches from his, "you forget that all she's ever wanted is children. Out there alone, she can't be sure of ever finding the man to give them to her. Besides, who's to say that they'd be safe out there. Who's to say they wouldn't be taken. Who's to say that she wouldn't have to sacrifice herself just like her mother did. They might not be hers, but here she will have children."
Logan nodded. Jean had thought it through and she was right. Staying out there alone would be risky, unnecessarily risky.
"You haven't said anything about your part in this," she said.
He looked at her.
"I'm not sure I have anything to say yet. I'll hold my piece until I know the rest."
Jean nodded.
"I have so many questions," she said. "Those glasses for one thing. She was underground, so maybe she's just sensitive to the light. But, I can't help feeling that it's more than that."
He smiled at her.
"And, the inquiring mind always wants to know."
"What can I say," she grinned, "it's an obsession."
He nodded, turning his attention back to the two women on the couch. They were now smiling at each other, talking rapidly in hushed tones. Rogue's fingers were laced through Eve's. They were alright.
"Well," he said, pushing away from the railing, "I'm going out for that smoke. You comin'?"
She shook her head.
"No," she said, "I think I'll go back and check on the Professor. He didn't look well when we left."
Logan nodded.
"Like I said, the inquiring mind always has to know."
With that he set off down the stairs.
Jean watched as he walked out the door, pulling a cigar from the pocket of his denim jacket. She shook her head, smiled and turned back toward the study. Sometimes his perception was astounding.
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