Persistence of Memory
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,444
Reviews:
68
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0
Currently Reading:
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Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,444
Reviews:
68
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
23
Persistence of Memory Chapter Twenty Three (NC-17)
Persistence of Memory Chapter Twenty Three (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I quoted you
today. I actually used the Frosties line
on someone, lol. InterNutter, TC and
Maxwell Pink are splendid for archiving.
J ProPhile is a nifty sparkley smut muse
(though I doubt he wants to be sparkley…eh. Tough cookies. It’s
Halloween). Readers/Reviewers: HOOTIE HOO!
Happy Samhain! And to my
likeminded brethren—Blessed be! Merry
meet, merry part till merry we meet again!
(Even if it is online, lol).
Happy New Year!
Jubilee
stared at herself in the foggy mirror miserably. She had never lost control of her powers since the first time it
happened and now, she was responsible for considerable damage at Bayville High
School, Lance’s scorched ear, and scaring the, as Rogue put it, bejeezus, out
of the school secretary. She heard and
ignored Jean’s summons to the dining hall, blocking further communications by
running the theme to Sesame Street over and over through her mind.
“Cherie?”
She sighed and bent over the sink,
weary. “Remy, let me alone for a little
bit, okay?”
“Jean say you ignorin’ her…I’m
comin’ in.” He did not even wait for
her response, the door opening to his near-silent lock picking. “You sick?”
“No,” she sighed, standing in the
bathroom with the shower running behind her, a packet of hair dye on the
counter and naked as the day she was born.
“I just need time to myself.”
“P’tite,” he sighed, closing the
door behind him, “today was weird, c’est vrai, mais we gonna try to figger out
what’s wrong…”
She set her jaw defiantly, prepared
to make a snarky statement, but instead, she crumpled, sagging against his
chest and crying silently as his arms went around her. “Did I ever tell you about the worst day of
my life?”
“The day your parents die?”
“The day after,” she sighed,
shivering slightly.
Remy frowned and pulled her robe
off the back of the door, wrapping it around her and leading her to sit on the
edge of the tub. “Why de day after?”
“Because I remember it.” She snuffled slightly and shifted so that
she could hear his heart against her ear, her arms tightening around his
neck. “I don’t remember much about they
day they died…The day after, I remember it all. It was like I couldn’t control anything—I was taken away by some
strangers, put in this cruddy county home, told my mom and dad were “sleeping,”
like I was some fucking baby. I was an
honor student and the best prep school in L.A.—I knew what death was. But I couldn’t even go to their funerals,
you know that? The day after they died,
I lost everything. My home, my…” she
cried harder. “My family. My life.
Everything I am now, I became that day.” Remy had no words. He
could not shake the mental image of a young, scared Jubilee being torn from
everything she knew only to end up on the streets. Jubilee sniffled again and straightened, looking vaguely
determined. “That’s what got me so bad
about earlier… I didn’t have control. I
could see it happening again. Being
taken away from…from home. From people
I love. From you.”
“So I ain’t someone you love?” he
chided amiably.
“I love you different than I
love…say, Rogue and Kitty.” She slid
from his lap and stood, pushing her fringe from her eyes.
Remy chanced a sly smile. “I wouldn’ mind seein’ ya love Rogue and
Kitty.”
“You,” she growled, “are a sick,
sick man!” Grabbing what was handy,
which happened to be a semi-damp washcloth.
Flinging it at him, she turned back to the sink and picked up her hair
dye, making a point of ignoring him until he stood, dangling the washcloth off
one finger. “I’m going to dye my tips,
I’m going to exfoliate, and I’m going to bed.
I need a nap.”
Remy raised an eyebrow. “Cherie, we gotta go to dis meetin’. Jean holdin’ it up for us.”
“Fuck Jean.”
“I always did like red heads…”
“Remy!” She rounded on him only to find herself pressed against the sink
before she could get out the rest of her invectives.
“We gotta try other rooms, chere,”
he whispered before he kissed her.
Jubilee protested briefly, but only
enough to gain a better grip on his arms.
Pushing herself up onto the counter, she pulled Remy with her, fumbling
briefly with the fastening on his pants before pushing them down his hips, her
legs locking around his waist so quickly it startled him. “What?” she panted when he pulled away to
look down at her.
“Kinda fast, eh, cherie?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not really,” he allowed, kissing
her again.
She gasped against his mouth when
he pressed her against the relatively cool glass of the mirror running the
length of the counter. She retaliated
by nipping his lower lip, making him part for her, plundering the depths of his
mouth with her tongue, seeking response.
He pulled her roughly to him, her nails digging into his shoulders,
before pushing into her folds without so much as a by her leave. And she did not care. Jubilee responded in kind, her heels
pressing nearly painfully into his thighs as he moved within her, her breath
coming in short pants as she arched into him, her breasts heaving with the
effort it took not to cry out as he filled her. Her fingers still ached from earlier, an unexplained phenomenon ripping
her powers from her and making her doubt herself, but she did not care about
that as she felt she was drowning in everything else. Breaking what seemed to be a perpetual kiss, she breathed, “I
love you so much, Remy…”
“Moi, aussi,” he responded, pausing
to tip her chin and make her look at him.
“Cherie?”
“Just…I love you.” She kissed his throat, scraping her teeth
against him and making him gasp, making him move within her again. She could feel Jean niggling in her mind and
knew that the older girl had a very clear image as to what was going on just
then. Damn Jean, she swore. The niggling grew more urgent and she
growled. “We can take long next time,
okay?” she breathed against his neck, reaching between them to touch her own
center, her fingers rubbing against the pearl of her desire as he filled her,
her body tight around him as she moaned softly. He gasped aloud as she threw her head back, a harsh cry torn from
her throat as she climaxed hard, shuddering against him. “Please, Remy,” she breathed. “I want you to…”
Damn it to Hell, Jubilee! Get your ass down here!
Remy jerked in surprise. Regretfully, he pulled away, nowhere near close to
completion. “C’est d’accord, cherie,”
he breathed when she mewled in protest.
“Later, non?”
Jubilee sighed and slid from the
counter, grasping him in one hand, placing the other against his chest. “I’ll make it good, I promise.”
“Jubilation, you ain’t ever been
another way…”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been a real flake this month and I’ll
make it up to you. I promise.” She ran her fingers down his length, making
him groan softly. “Promise,” she
repeated, picking up her abandoned robe to cover her nudity before retreating
into her bedroom. “Remy?” she called
back to him.
“Jus’ a moment, eh?”
The snicker was barely evident in
her voice. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Scott gonna be short one wife ‘fore
dis all done wid.
Cecilia glanced back over her
shoulder at the house. Tabby stood on
the porch, jostling a crying Lucas on one hip, the baby nearly purple in the
face from wailing. “He’s a precog,”
Tabby explained, though how she was sure, Cecilia did not know. “He’s not happy about whatever’s coming.”
“You sure? Maybe he just needs a new nappy,” Banshee
suggested hopefully.
“No, he’s dry, he’s fed, he’s
rested…he’s crying because he knows something bad is happening.” Tabby tried to keep her voice light in a
last-ditch effort to placate her son. “Shhhh,”
she urged Lucas. “Wanda will make snow
again if you’re good.”
“Make snow?” Cecilia raised a brow.
“She figured out how to use her hex
thingies for that. Gives the kid a
thrill,” Tabby shrugged. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Whoa, girlie. You’re staying here.” Banshee held out a restraining hand.
“Like Hell! I’m the only one not in that meeting and I’ll
be damned if I just stand here on the porch like Little House on the Prairie
or something!”
Cecilia sighed, the sounds of the
growing media horde at the gate annoying her more than the crying infant. “Tabby, it would not look good for the Institute
if…How do I say this?”
“If a teenage mother with a
fit-throwing baby came down there with you?
Got it,” she snapped. “Go stave
off the wolves. Lucas and I will wait
here.”
Banshee and Cecilia exchanged weary
looks. “Come on,” he said. “I don’t know how long I can remember that
speech Beast gave me.”
The crowd at the gate fell quiet
for a moment before they began shouting questions at Cecilia and Banshee as
they approached. Her head still
throbbing from earlier, the doctor did her best to look open and frank as they
reached the iron bars of the gate. “We
have a statement,” she shouted above the din.
“What did we see on the security
tape?” someone shouted back.
“Well, only you can answer that…”
Banshee allowed, knowing that, in that moment, Beast’s speech was shot to
Hell.
“It looked like a bunch of kids
with some sort of powers…”
Cecilia plastered a false smile on
her face and said tightly, “Have any of you ever heard of human beings having…powers?”
She imbued the word with as much distaste as she could muster.
Someone in the back piped up, “There’s
rumors…”
“Rumors are not truth,” Cecilia interrupted. “We have no comment.” She turned sharply, Banshee following
perforce as she strode back to the mansion.
“That went well,” he muttered.
“Shut up. I’m starting to think the baby’s right.”
Persistence of Memory Chapter Twenty Three (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I quoted you
today. I actually used the Frosties line
on someone, lol. InterNutter, TC and
Maxwell Pink are splendid for archiving.
J ProPhile is a nifty sparkley smut muse
(though I doubt he wants to be sparkley…eh. Tough cookies. It’s
Halloween). Readers/Reviewers: HOOTIE HOO!
Happy Samhain! And to my
likeminded brethren—Blessed be! Merry
meet, merry part till merry we meet again!
(Even if it is online, lol).
Happy New Year!
Jubilee
stared at herself in the foggy mirror miserably. She had never lost control of her powers since the first time it
happened and now, she was responsible for considerable damage at Bayville High
School, Lance’s scorched ear, and scaring the, as Rogue put it, bejeezus, out
of the school secretary. She heard and
ignored Jean’s summons to the dining hall, blocking further communications by
running the theme to Sesame Street over and over through her mind.
“Cherie?”
She sighed and bent over the sink,
weary. “Remy, let me alone for a little
bit, okay?”
“Jean say you ignorin’ her…I’m
comin’ in.” He did not even wait for
her response, the door opening to his near-silent lock picking. “You sick?”
“No,” she sighed, standing in the
bathroom with the shower running behind her, a packet of hair dye on the
counter and naked as the day she was born.
“I just need time to myself.”
“P’tite,” he sighed, closing the
door behind him, “today was weird, c’est vrai, mais we gonna try to figger out
what’s wrong…”
She set her jaw defiantly, prepared
to make a snarky statement, but instead, she crumpled, sagging against his
chest and crying silently as his arms went around her. “Did I ever tell you about the worst day of
my life?”
“The day your parents die?”
“The day after,” she sighed,
shivering slightly.
Remy frowned and pulled her robe
off the back of the door, wrapping it around her and leading her to sit on the
edge of the tub. “Why de day after?”
“Because I remember it.” She snuffled slightly and shifted so that
she could hear his heart against her ear, her arms tightening around his
neck. “I don’t remember much about they
day they died…The day after, I remember it all. It was like I couldn’t control anything—I was taken away by some
strangers, put in this cruddy county home, told my mom and dad were “sleeping,”
like I was some fucking baby. I was an
honor student and the best prep school in L.A.—I knew what death was. But I couldn’t even go to their funerals,
you know that? The day after they died,
I lost everything. My home, my…” she
cried harder. “My family. My life.
Everything I am now, I became that day.” Remy had no words. He
could not shake the mental image of a young, scared Jubilee being torn from
everything she knew only to end up on the streets. Jubilee sniffled again and straightened, looking vaguely
determined. “That’s what got me so bad
about earlier… I didn’t have control. I
could see it happening again. Being
taken away from…from home. From people
I love. From you.”
“So I ain’t someone you love?” he
chided amiably.
“I love you different than I
love…say, Rogue and Kitty.” She slid
from his lap and stood, pushing her fringe from her eyes.
Remy chanced a sly smile. “I wouldn’ mind seein’ ya love Rogue and
Kitty.”
“You,” she growled, “are a sick,
sick man!” Grabbing what was handy,
which happened to be a semi-damp washcloth.
Flinging it at him, she turned back to the sink and picked up her hair
dye, making a point of ignoring him until he stood, dangling the washcloth off
one finger. “I’m going to dye my tips,
I’m going to exfoliate, and I’m going to bed.
I need a nap.”
Remy raised an eyebrow. “Cherie, we gotta go to dis meetin’. Jean holdin’ it up for us.”
“Fuck Jean.”
“I always did like red heads…”
“Remy!” She rounded on him only to find herself pressed against the sink
before she could get out the rest of her invectives.
“We gotta try other rooms, chere,”
he whispered before he kissed her.
Jubilee protested briefly, but only
enough to gain a better grip on his arms.
Pushing herself up onto the counter, she pulled Remy with her, fumbling
briefly with the fastening on his pants before pushing them down his hips, her
legs locking around his waist so quickly it startled him. “What?” she panted when he pulled away to
look down at her.
“Kinda fast, eh, cherie?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not really,” he allowed, kissing
her again.
She gasped against his mouth when
he pressed her against the relatively cool glass of the mirror running the
length of the counter. She retaliated
by nipping his lower lip, making him part for her, plundering the depths of his
mouth with her tongue, seeking response.
He pulled her roughly to him, her nails digging into his shoulders,
before pushing into her folds without so much as a by her leave. And she did not care. Jubilee responded in kind, her heels
pressing nearly painfully into his thighs as he moved within her, her breath
coming in short pants as she arched into him, her breasts heaving with the
effort it took not to cry out as he filled her. Her fingers still ached from earlier, an unexplained phenomenon ripping
her powers from her and making her doubt herself, but she did not care about
that as she felt she was drowning in everything else. Breaking what seemed to be a perpetual kiss, she breathed, “I
love you so much, Remy…”
“Moi, aussi,” he responded, pausing
to tip her chin and make her look at him.
“Cherie?”
“Just…I love you.” She kissed his throat, scraping her teeth
against him and making him gasp, making him move within her again. She could feel Jean niggling in her mind and
knew that the older girl had a very clear image as to what was going on just
then. Damn Jean, she swore. The niggling grew more urgent and she
growled. “We can take long next time,
okay?” she breathed against his neck, reaching between them to touch her own
center, her fingers rubbing against the pearl of her desire as he filled her,
her body tight around him as she moaned softly. He gasped aloud as she threw her head back, a harsh cry torn from
her throat as she climaxed hard, shuddering against him. “Please, Remy,” she breathed. “I want you to…”
Damn it to Hell, Jubilee! Get your ass down here!
Remy jerked in surprise. Regretfully, he pulled away, nowhere near close to
completion. “C’est d’accord, cherie,”
he breathed when she mewled in protest.
“Later, non?”
Jubilee sighed and slid from the
counter, grasping him in one hand, placing the other against his chest. “I’ll make it good, I promise.”
“Jubilation, you ain’t ever been
another way…”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been a real flake this month and I’ll
make it up to you. I promise.” She ran her fingers down his length, making
him groan softly. “Promise,” she
repeated, picking up her abandoned robe to cover her nudity before retreating
into her bedroom. “Remy?” she called
back to him.
“Jus’ a moment, eh?”
The snicker was barely evident in
her voice. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Scott gonna be short one wife ‘fore
dis all done wid.
Cecilia glanced back over her
shoulder at the house. Tabby stood on
the porch, jostling a crying Lucas on one hip, the baby nearly purple in the
face from wailing. “He’s a precog,”
Tabby explained, though how she was sure, Cecilia did not know. “He’s not happy about whatever’s coming.”
“You sure? Maybe he just needs a new nappy,” Banshee
suggested hopefully.
“No, he’s dry, he’s fed, he’s
rested…he’s crying because he knows something bad is happening.” Tabby tried to keep her voice light in a
last-ditch effort to placate her son. “Shhhh,”
she urged Lucas. “Wanda will make snow
again if you’re good.”
“Make snow?” Cecilia raised a brow.
“She figured out how to use her hex
thingies for that. Gives the kid a
thrill,” Tabby shrugged. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Whoa, girlie. You’re staying here.” Banshee held out a restraining hand.
“Like Hell! I’m the only one not in that meeting and I’ll
be damned if I just stand here on the porch like Little House on the Prairie
or something!”
Cecilia sighed, the sounds of the
growing media horde at the gate annoying her more than the crying infant. “Tabby, it would not look good for the Institute
if…How do I say this?”
“If a teenage mother with a
fit-throwing baby came down there with you?
Got it,” she snapped. “Go stave
off the wolves. Lucas and I will wait
here.”
Banshee and Cecilia exchanged weary
looks. “Come on,” he said. “I don’t know how long I can remember that
speech Beast gave me.”
The crowd at the gate fell quiet
for a moment before they began shouting questions at Cecilia and Banshee as
they approached. Her head still
throbbing from earlier, the doctor did her best to look open and frank as they
reached the iron bars of the gate. “We
have a statement,” she shouted above the din.
“What did we see on the security
tape?” someone shouted back.
“Well, only you can answer that…”
Banshee allowed, knowing that, in that moment, Beast’s speech was shot to
Hell.
“It looked like a bunch of kids
with some sort of powers…”
Cecilia plastered a false smile on
her face and said tightly, “Have any of you ever heard of human beings having…powers?”
She imbued the word with as much distaste as she could muster.
Someone in the back piped up, “There’s
rumors…”
“Rumors are not truth,” Cecilia interrupted. “We have no comment.” She turned sharply, Banshee following
perforce as she strode back to the mansion.
“That went well,” he muttered.
“Shut up. I’m starting to think the baby’s right.”