Persistence of Memory
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,471
Reviews:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,471
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.
49
Persistence of Memory Chapter Forty Nine (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…mmmmm. Breakfast fic. *g * InterNutter, TC and
Maxwell Pink are wonderful people for archiving for me (when I remember to send
updates, lol). ProPhile is an absent
smutmuse so his sparkles are going to have to wait. Readers/Reviewers: Millemillemillemille Grazie! J
Jamie was
just starting to doze off when Rahne crawled into bed with him. Involuntarily, he stiffened as his eyes flew
open. “Rahne?”
“How could
you tell?” she asked slyly.
“Scott
knocks first,” he responded, relaxing fractionally. “What are you doing in here?”
“You went
to bed so early…I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Um, I’m
fine.”
“And…well,
I wanted something else.”
Oh, no…
I don’t know if I’m ready again… “Oh?” he squeaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Oh?”
She vented
a frustrated breath. “It’s not always
about sex, you know. I could want
something else entirely.”
“Do you?”
“Well…yeah. I love you, Jamie, but I have to say your
charms are such that I can resist them if I need
“Hmmm…Is
that an insult?” He shifted and turned
to face her, finding her smiling slightly a very few inches from his face. “Or should I try and prove you wrong?”
Her smile
broadened slightly. “Maybe later. I still want to wait, too. I think.”
“You
think?” he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you
think there’s something wrong?”
“Well, you
never sneak into my bed in the first place and secondly, you’ve got these tiny
lines right here,” he said quietly, touching the spot between her brows. “Like you’re frowning on the inside.”
“Maybe I
am,” she sighed. Rahne closed her eyes
and was silent for a minute before she said, “I’m a little scared, Jamie.”
“Of what?”
“What if
we’re found out anyway? What if there’s
nothing we can do to stop it? What’ll
happen to us?”
“I don’t
know,” he said honestly. “But whatever
it is, there’s going to be people who’ve been through worse.”
“But we
wouldn’t have been.”
“We don’t
know that…what if everyone thinks it’s really cool that we’re mutants?”
“You’ve seen
the news. You saw what sort of signs
those people were holding at that protest outside the high school. I don’t think they want much to do with us.”
“Did I ever
tell you about my sibirtbirthday?”
Rahne made a
moue of confusion at this sudden topic change.
“Uh, no…”
“I didn’t
have one. I mean, I turned six and all
that, but I didn’t have a party. I
didn’t even get a card. My dad
was…there’s no good way to describe him.
He was a jerk.[1] He used to have a lot of problems with
drinking and just with life and he took it out on me. When I was six, that seemed to make him really mad…”
For a
moment, Rahne could see the scared little boy so recently left behind peering
at her through Jamie’s eyes. “Why are
you telling me this?”
“When I
turned six, my father took me to the Catholic church down the road from our
house and kicked me out of the car. He
said he was sick of me taking up space, costing him money… It was so cold out and all I had on were my
pajamas. The sun wasn’t eve
ye
yet. He just…drove off and left me
there. I remember crying a lot and
going inside that narthax[2]
and hiding behind this giant potted fern.
The priest found me later that morning when he came in to do some stuff
in the office… I was so scared he would
beat me, too. I thought that’s what
happened to boys like me. I thought I
had done something very, very bad. Well,
he took me home and my father pretended like he was worried, like I had run
away or something. I was six, barefoot
and in pajamas. The church was ten
miles from my house… The priest didn’t
even question that, at least not that I remember. But I don’t remember the rest of that week, either. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the
garage on a pallet between the deep freeze and the work bench.” He closed his eyes for a minute and began
again. “All of my memories before
coming here are of being scared. I was
scared to do anything, even make a noise.
I was scared to be alive. But
since I’ve been here, I haven’t felt that way.
No matter what happens, I know I’ll be safe and that someone will always
care about what happens to me.”
“Oh,” Rahne
breathed. “I knew that you’d had a hard
childhood, but…” She sniffled and
tucked her head under his chin.
He could
feel her shaking slightly and frowned.
“Don’t cry about it. I stopped
crying about it myself years ago. You
can’t worry about the past or the future.
You just have to worry about now.”
“Do you
know what I want right now?”
“Tell me.”
“I want
very much to stay in here tonight. I
want very much to feel safe in here with you.”
“I want
that, too.” He tugged at the duvet and
pulled it over both of them and helr clr close enouo feo feel her heart beating
in her chest. “I want that very, very
much.”
Emma
studied her red lacquered nails critically.
“Damn. I chipped that one.”
Banshee
glanced up from the sports section of the paper and rolled his eyes. “I think there’s more important things to
worry about right now than the state of your cosmetics.”
“Like the
outcome of the local football game?”
She folded her hands primly in her lap and fixed an expression of
superiority on her features.
Banshee
folded the paper with a sigh and proceeded to ignore Emma as he sipped his
cooling coffee. “Tomorrow needs to go
off without a hitch,” he said apropos of nothing.
“I would
have to be an idiot not to know that,” Emma drawled.
“Which
means, keep those claws retracted.”
“Claws? Whatever do you mean?” she asked coyly,
batting her eyelashes.
“I feel
nothing but pity for the poor sods who come to take you back to St Dymphna’s.”
“Why would
anyone be doing that?”
“You
escaped…”
“Money,”
she interrupted him, “covers a multitude of sins in this world. The right donation, I get a new wing in the
hospital instead of a new jacket.” She crossed
her arms around her waist to mimic wearing a strait jacket.
“I thought
Professor Xavier was on the board for the hospital…he’d allow such a thing?”
“He hasn’t
been well,” was all Emma would say before turning her attention to the front
page of the paper, laying between Banshee and herself. “Hmm.
This can’t be good. Protesters
Plan Demonstration…Friends of Humanity organizing march.”
“Friends of
Humanity? What the Hell…” Banshee took the paper from Emma and scanned
trticrticle. “Bugger!”
“Now, now…I
believe the word you are looking for is actually fuck.”
“Does the
Professor know about this?”
“How should
I know? I only just read it myself!”
“You’re psychic…”
“Lower your
voice before you break something,” she said calmly. “I’m not going poking around that man’s head. He’s libel to give me a psychic bitch-slap
at the moment.” At Banshee’s openly
curious expression, she said, “Rogue is in his office.”
“Ah…more
wayward youth.”
“Speaking
of…” Emma glanced in the direction of
the foyer and Banshee followed her gaze.
Evan was skulking, to put it mildly.
The lights in the hall were dim in concession to the growing hour and
the fact most of the residents were already in bed. The teenager, however, was easing to the door like he was in a
bad spy movie, tip-toeing and pausing every few feet to peer around
suspiciously.
Wordlessly,
Banshee got to his feet and padded to the edge of the foyer. “When I was your age, I would just go out
the window.”
Evan
jumped, spikes showing briefly until he calmed himself. “I was, uh, just going
for a walk.”
“No
walks. Not tonight.” Leaning casually against the doorframe, he
asked, “What’s her name?”
“Her who?”
“The her
you’re sneaking out to meet.” He raised
a brow and smirked.
“How did
you…”
“Never mind
that. You’re just going to have to let
her wait.” He glanced at Emma and
winked at her, a silent thanks for her mental picture, an image she gleaned
from Evan and revealed to Banshee.
“I can’t!”
“Then I’ll
drive you.”
“How dorky
would that look?” Evan said, disgusted.
“Fine. It’s Rogue’s friend Risty. Can I go now?”
“Risty? I’ve never heard of her.”
Emma spoke
up. “Call her and tell her you cannot
meet her tonight. There is too much to
do for you to be missing for the evening again.”
“This is
fucking bullshit!”
“Do you
want me to get your aunt?”
“She’s too
busy mooning over fucking Logan to notice her own family!” Evan snarled. “I’m out of here! You guys are fucking weak!”[3]
Banshee
started after Evan as he stormed from the foyer and out into the night but Emma
stayed him with a hand to his elbow. “Let
him go. If we go after him, it will
just make him angrier. We cannot afford
to have an angry teenager, much less an angry mutant, on hand tomorrow.”
“We have to
tell Storm. He’s her nephew.”
“So be it,
but let him go for now.”
“How can
you be so calm about this? Do you know
the history these kids have with going off half cocked?”
“Easy. They’re ny kiy kids.” Emma shrugged and turned to go back into the
rec room.
Emma,
Banshee, Forge, Storm, Logan, Warren and Beast…please report to the upstairs study immediately.
What
is it, Charles? Emma asked without moving.
Mutant
activity on Cerebro. I think someone is
in trouble.
A/N Scott/Jean, Todd/Rogue, more Professor-ness, what the
Hell is Remy doing and Magneto Does Bayville.
[1] Fanon that
Jamie’s father was abusive.
[2] It’s sort of
like the foyer in a Catholic Church.
Technically, the Narthax is always supposed to be open, a tradition
going back to the time when people could seek sanctuary inside the Church
walls.
[3] Evan takes a
turn for the Cartman. One of the most
repeated lines from Southpark.
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…mmmmm. Breakfast fic. *g * InterNutter, TC and
Maxwell Pink are wonderful people for archiving for me (when I remember to send
updates, lol). ProPhile is an absent
smutmuse so his sparkles are going to have to wait. Readers/Reviewers: Millemillemillemille Grazie! J
Jamie was
just starting to doze off when Rahne crawled into bed with him. Involuntarily, he stiffened as his eyes flew
open. “Rahne?”
“How could
you tell?” she asked slyly.
“Scott
knocks first,” he responded, relaxing fractionally. “What are you doing in here?”
“You went
to bed so early…I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Um, I’m
fine.”
“And…well,
I wanted something else.”
Oh, no…
I don’t know if I’m ready again… “Oh?” he squeaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Oh?”
She vented
a frustrated breath. “It’s not always
about sex, you know. I could want
something else entirely.”
“Do you?”
“Well…yeah. I love you, Jamie, but I have to say your
charms are such that I can resist them if I need
“Hmmm…Is
that an insult?” He shifted and turned
to face her, finding her smiling slightly a very few inches from his face. “Or should I try and prove you wrong?”
Her smile
broadened slightly. “Maybe later. I still want to wait, too. I think.”
“You
think?” he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you
think there’s something wrong?”
“Well, you
never sneak into my bed in the first place and secondly, you’ve got these tiny
lines right here,” he said quietly, touching the spot between her brows. “Like you’re frowning on the inside.”
“Maybe I
am,” she sighed. Rahne closed her eyes
and was silent for a minute before she said, “I’m a little scared, Jamie.”
“Of what?”
“What if
we’re found out anyway? What if there’s
nothing we can do to stop it? What’ll
happen to us?”
“I don’t
know,” he said honestly. “But whatever
it is, there’s going to be people who’ve been through worse.”
“But we
wouldn’t have been.”
“We don’t
know that…what if everyone thinks it’s really cool that we’re mutants?”
“You’ve seen
the news. You saw what sort of signs
those people were holding at that protest outside the high school. I don’t think they want much to do with us.”
“Did I ever
tell you about my sibirtbirthday?”
Rahne made a
moue of confusion at this sudden topic change.
“Uh, no…”
“I didn’t
have one. I mean, I turned six and all
that, but I didn’t have a party. I
didn’t even get a card. My dad
was…there’s no good way to describe him.
He was a jerk.[1] He used to have a lot of problems with
drinking and just with life and he took it out on me. When I was six, that seemed to make him really mad…”
For a
moment, Rahne could see the scared little boy so recently left behind peering
at her through Jamie’s eyes. “Why are
you telling me this?”
“When I
turned six, my father took me to the Catholic church down the road from our
house and kicked me out of the car. He
said he was sick of me taking up space, costing him money… It was so cold out and all I had on were my
pajamas. The sun wasn’t eve
ye
yet. He just…drove off and left me
there. I remember crying a lot and
going inside that narthax[2]
and hiding behind this giant potted fern.
The priest found me later that morning when he came in to do some stuff
in the office… I was so scared he would
beat me, too. I thought that’s what
happened to boys like me. I thought I
had done something very, very bad. Well,
he took me home and my father pretended like he was worried, like I had run
away or something. I was six, barefoot
and in pajamas. The church was ten
miles from my house… The priest didn’t
even question that, at least not that I remember. But I don’t remember the rest of that week, either. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the
garage on a pallet between the deep freeze and the work bench.” He closed his eyes for a minute and began
again. “All of my memories before
coming here are of being scared. I was
scared to do anything, even make a noise.
I was scared to be alive. But
since I’ve been here, I haven’t felt that way.
No matter what happens, I know I’ll be safe and that someone will always
care about what happens to me.”
“Oh,” Rahne
breathed. “I knew that you’d had a hard
childhood, but…” She sniffled and
tucked her head under his chin.
He could
feel her shaking slightly and frowned.
“Don’t cry about it. I stopped
crying about it myself years ago. You
can’t worry about the past or the future.
You just have to worry about now.”
“Do you
know what I want right now?”
“Tell me.”
“I want
very much to stay in here tonight. I
want very much to feel safe in here with you.”
“I want
that, too.” He tugged at the duvet and
pulled it over both of them and helr clr close enouo feo feel her heart beating
in her chest. “I want that very, very
much.”
Emma
studied her red lacquered nails critically.
“Damn. I chipped that one.”
Banshee
glanced up from the sports section of the paper and rolled his eyes. “I think there’s more important things to
worry about right now than the state of your cosmetics.”
“Like the
outcome of the local football game?”
She folded her hands primly in her lap and fixed an expression of
superiority on her features.
Banshee
folded the paper with a sigh and proceeded to ignore Emma as he sipped his
cooling coffee. “Tomorrow needs to go
off without a hitch,” he said apropos of nothing.
“I would
have to be an idiot not to know that,” Emma drawled.
“Which
means, keep those claws retracted.”
“Claws? Whatever do you mean?” she asked coyly,
batting her eyelashes.
“I feel
nothing but pity for the poor sods who come to take you back to St Dymphna’s.”
“Why would
anyone be doing that?”
“You
escaped…”
“Money,”
she interrupted him, “covers a multitude of sins in this world. The right donation, I get a new wing in the
hospital instead of a new jacket.” She crossed
her arms around her waist to mimic wearing a strait jacket.
“I thought
Professor Xavier was on the board for the hospital…he’d allow such a thing?”
“He hasn’t
been well,” was all Emma would say before turning her attention to the front
page of the paper, laying between Banshee and herself. “Hmm.
This can’t be good. Protesters
Plan Demonstration…Friends of Humanity organizing march.”
“Friends of
Humanity? What the Hell…” Banshee took the paper from Emma and scanned
trticrticle. “Bugger!”
“Now, now…I
believe the word you are looking for is actually fuck.”
“Does the
Professor know about this?”
“How should
I know? I only just read it myself!”
“You’re psychic…”
“Lower your
voice before you break something,” she said calmly. “I’m not going poking around that man’s head. He’s libel to give me a psychic bitch-slap
at the moment.” At Banshee’s openly
curious expression, she said, “Rogue is in his office.”
“Ah…more
wayward youth.”
“Speaking
of…” Emma glanced in the direction of
the foyer and Banshee followed her gaze.
Evan was skulking, to put it mildly.
The lights in the hall were dim in concession to the growing hour and
the fact most of the residents were already in bed. The teenager, however, was easing to the door like he was in a
bad spy movie, tip-toeing and pausing every few feet to peer around
suspiciously.
Wordlessly,
Banshee got to his feet and padded to the edge of the foyer. “When I was your age, I would just go out
the window.”
Evan
jumped, spikes showing briefly until he calmed himself. “I was, uh, just going
for a walk.”
“No
walks. Not tonight.” Leaning casually against the doorframe, he
asked, “What’s her name?”
“Her who?”
“The her
you’re sneaking out to meet.” He raised
a brow and smirked.
“How did
you…”
“Never mind
that. You’re just going to have to let
her wait.” He glanced at Emma and
winked at her, a silent thanks for her mental picture, an image she gleaned
from Evan and revealed to Banshee.
“I can’t!”
“Then I’ll
drive you.”
“How dorky
would that look?” Evan said, disgusted.
“Fine. It’s Rogue’s friend Risty. Can I go now?”
“Risty? I’ve never heard of her.”
Emma spoke
up. “Call her and tell her you cannot
meet her tonight. There is too much to
do for you to be missing for the evening again.”
“This is
fucking bullshit!”
“Do you
want me to get your aunt?”
“She’s too
busy mooning over fucking Logan to notice her own family!” Evan snarled. “I’m out of here! You guys are fucking weak!”[3]
Banshee
started after Evan as he stormed from the foyer and out into the night but Emma
stayed him with a hand to his elbow. “Let
him go. If we go after him, it will
just make him angrier. We cannot afford
to have an angry teenager, much less an angry mutant, on hand tomorrow.”
“We have to
tell Storm. He’s her nephew.”
“So be it,
but let him go for now.”
“How can
you be so calm about this? Do you know
the history these kids have with going off half cocked?”
“Easy. They’re ny kiy kids.” Emma shrugged and turned to go back into the
rec room.
Emma,
Banshee, Forge, Storm, Logan, Warren and Beast…please report to the upstairs study immediately.
What
is it, Charles? Emma asked without moving.
Mutant
activity on Cerebro. I think someone is
in trouble.
A/N Scott/Jean, Todd/Rogue, more Professor-ness, what the
Hell is Remy doing and Magneto Does Bayville.
[1] Fanon that
Jamie’s father was abusive.
[2] It’s sort of
like the foyer in a Catholic Church.
Technically, the Narthax is always supposed to be open, a tradition
going back to the time when people could seek sanctuary inside the Church
walls.
[3] Evan takes a
turn for the Cartman. One of the most
repeated lines from Southpark.