Among the Strong
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marysuevirusTitle: Among the Strong
Chapter Eight: Confrontations
Fandom: the Marvel universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic violence, language, sex, dark themes, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. Haley belongs todazzledfirestar Morgan belongs toginevra Roxxy belongs tonanaeanaven Jehnna belongs to silverfox_chan and Dare belongs to me. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from dazzledfirestar .
Author's Notes: this is almost entirely Daz's fault. okay. so it really isn't. its actually almost 100% my fault. Daz just did a whole lot of encouraging. this fic is going to be kind of dark, so please keep that in mind while reading.
Among the Strong - the index
Her head felt like lead. That was the first thing that fluttered through her mind. The next thing was that there was an annoying beep somewhere. It pulsed in time with the slow thump of her heart. She wished it would go away. She wished the darkness would suck her down again because every inch of her felt like it had been through one hell of a fight. The only problem was that she couldn't recall such a fight. In fact, she really couldn't recall much of anything.
She swallowed, her throat dry and her tongue thick. Her lips felt chapped and cracked when they moved. Her skin was hot and it hated the sensation of cloth against it. It took more energy than she had to try and pry her eyes open. There was limited light around her, the room mostly cast in darkness. But a glance to her left showed her the machines there. She recognized them distantly as the monitors that Henry had on hand for medical emergencies.
She watched the screen for a while, noting how the heart line peaked each time her heart beat in her chest. It took her far longer than it should have to realize that she was hooked to that monitor. That it was tracking her heartbeat. She blinked at that. What had happened to see her in Henry's infirmary, hooked up to his monitors?
No answer was immediately forthcoming. She simply couldn't remember what had happened to put her in that bed. And something must have happened. She wouldn't be there otherwise. If only her brain would cooperate with her.
She watched the electronic proof that her heart was beating for a while, the rhythm steady and slightly hypnotic. Then she let her gaze slide from the monitor and the spot where the leads were situated to where they ended. Which was her arm. And her chest. She also found an IV taped into the back of her hand. That was a little confusing. Again, she had to wonder just what had happened that required Henry's medical knowledge? What had put her in the bed? She wished she knew, but her brain was simply not cooperating at all.
The sad truth was she really couldn't remember. She barely remembered her name, and that took effort. Her brain was so mushy that it took far too much energy to spark a thought in it. She closed her eyes and took a slow, steady breath. Even her chest felt like it had been slammed into by Mjölnir. What the hell kind of fight had she been in?
It had been a fight. Of that, she was sure. It had to have been bad to put her down like this. She pushed everything from her mind and tried to focus. Slowly, so very slowly, tiny images flashed across the thick darkness of her mind. And slowly, so very slowly, she began to remember.
The professor had sent Purple Team out. Something about the other teams going missing. Lots of sand. Empty transport. A portal. A group of women who... A finger of pain lanced through her skull. She thought it might be a warning to stop. She grit her teeth and ignored it, forced herself to think. To see. To remember all of it.
Four women. One in black. One in red. One with poison green wings. One with blonde hair and intense blue eyes. There had been so much fire. Red energy blasts. Green missiles. And burning sound waves.
One of them had said something about chosen. She'd called herself and the others with her...
The horsemen! They'd faced off with the horsemen. And she'd seen Morgan and Jehnna fall. Then something had slammed into her, pain and torn through her and... Haley!
The rest of it rushed her like a linebacker heading for the quarterback. All of the fine details of their trip to the desert. The fine details of that short, terrible fight. She'd woken to Logan and Piotr and the others coming out of the portal. Logan had sent her home. She'd insisted she had to see Johnny. To tell him about Haley. She'd felt like crap and Henry had been mad at her for not staying in bed. But she'd had to go see Johnny. She'd had to tell him about Haley in person. She'd had to assure him that she was going to do everything in her power to find Haley.
Fear spiked through her then. Fear for Haley and what might be happening to her. What might be happening to the rest of her team. She felt a surge of energy. She had to make good on her promise to Johnny, so she threw the covers back and tried to sit up. In moments, there were hands on her shoulders that pressed her back down against the bed. Roxxy found herself staring up into Henry's face and he looked... Not well. It looked as if he hadn't slept in recent memory and his clothes were wrinkled and unkempt. Even his fur was physically ruffled. She had to wonder at it. "Henry?" she asked, then frowned at just how weak and rough her voice was.
"You need to rest, Rosemary. The antitoxin is only just taking effect and I have no idea if moving will inhibit your recovery." He even sounded ruffled. She'd never quite heard him use that tone of voice with her before. Not even after having given birth to triplets. Twice. She could only blink at him as he made a show of pulling the blankets up over her. They were tucked around her neatly before Henry returned to the chair he'd obviously been occupying only seconds ago.
She watched, baffled, as he cleaned his glasses with the corner of his lab coat. And then what he'd said began to make sense to her, her brain coming back online just enough to untangle his words. "Antitoxin?" she asked. One hand reached for the bed's controls, took hold and pressed the button so she was sitting up. She was going to be sitting up for this conversation. "Henry, what's going on?"
"What do you remember, Rosemary?" he asked her. It seemed an odd question, but she knew he wouldn't ask without reason. So she took a moment to order her thoughts before she gave him an answer.
"We went to the desert to look for the other teams. They weren't there. Then a portal opened and four women stepped out of it. Apocalypse's horsemen. There was some speaking, Dare said fuck you, then there was a fight. I know they took down Morgan and Jehnna. After that... I don't recall anything."
"You were hit by one of Pestilence's feathers, Rosemary. It nearly killed you," Henry told her. There was a heaviness to his voice that told her he'd been afraid of just that result. Preparing himself for it. Which made her wonder just how bad it had been. "You've been unconscious for over twenty four hours."
"I... don't understand. How could a feather almost kill me?" she asked.
"There is a mutation in Pestilence's genetics that has rendered her essentially a walking body of poison. All she needs to do is introduce her flesh into the body of her opponent. Once this is done, it starts attacking that person's blood. it turns her victim's blood into poison. Your own blood was trying to kill you, Rosemary," he told her. She blinked at that. That... didn't make any sense at all. How could someone else's DNA turn her own body against her. "It took Reed and I working all night and into the day to find the answers. And then it took several hours to synthesize an antidote. You've been ill for a full day and then some, my dear. I almost lost you."
She could only stare at him. She'd nearly died? From a feather?
"I was not prepared to let you leave me just yet," he said, voice rough with emotion. She reached out and took his hand with hers.
"You found a way to save me, Henry," she told him gently. Her words brought his head up, his eyes bright with unshed tears. She could see the sorrow in his face. And she could see something more.
"I only administered the antidote a few hours ago, Rosemary. I had no idea if it would work or not. I was desperate and tried an untested antitoxin on you. I have been sitting here, trying to decide on the right way to inform our children that their mother died, should it have come to that." The last of his words came filled with weariness and sorrow. Roxxy squeezed his hand with her own.
"You don't have to tell them yet, Henry," she said gently.
He lifted his head and stared at her, sadness making his blue eyes so much bluer. "I cannot lose you, Rosemary. I would not be able to function without you at my side," he whispered.
His words and the soft sadness on his face, the obvious exhaustion and worry behind it, made her heart ache for him. She brought her free hand up and pressed her palm against his cheek. She had nothing to say, no words she could give him that would take that sadness away. So she simply pressed her hand to his cheek so that he knew she was there and alive. That she wasn't leaving him just yet. "I'm not going anywhere, Henry. But you are. You're exhausted. You need to rest. Go to bed."
"Rosemary," he began. Anything else he said trailed off. But she didn't need to hear it. The worry he felt was plain to see on his face. To hear in his words. She understood everything he hadn't spoken aloud.
"I'm not going anywhere, Henry," she repeated. "Go sleep. I promise I'll be here when you wake up. There is no where else I would rather be than here, at your side."
Henry stared at her a moment longer, then offered her a tired smile. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Rosemary."
"I love you, Henry," she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. Henry rested his forehead against hers, his hands suddenly holding her face between them.
"Music to my ears, my beloved. It has been too long since I've heard you sing this song." He pressed his own kiss on her, his lips a soft weight against hers. "Sing it for me again."
"Anytime, Henry," Roxxy replied. "I love you. I will always love you."
~*~
Morgan cast a not-so-covert look at her companion for what had to have been the billionth time in the last fifteen minutes. Warren was doing pull ups on some piece of equipment in the gym that Sinister's goblin things had escorted them to only a short while ago. Three weeks of this and she still wasn't entirely used to it.
They came to the gym for at least an hour every day. It was part of some set schedule that Sinister must have devised. Breakfast was delivered at seven am. What they were served varied from day to day, but there was always freshly cut fruit and yogurt served with things like eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hash browns, pancakes, waffles, and French toast. Coffee, tea, water, and juice were beverage options. Eleven saw them heading to the lab where they were once again herded into that big glass box for another round of voyeurism sex. When that was done, they were escorted back to their room, where lunch was waiting for them. Steaks, burgers, sausage, fish, rice, potatoes, salads, fresh veggies. All options for their midday and evening meals. In the afternoon, around three or so, they got their hour of work out time. Dinner at six thirty.
It was kind of comforting to have a schedule, even if not much else was comforting. Well, Warren was comforting. At that thought, she took her attention from the elliptical she was using and fastened it on Warren's back. Sweat gleamed on his bared shoulders and arms. His wings were tucked up against his back, though there were occasions where the feathered ruffled. She didn't know if he was doing it to rid himself of pent up aggression or if it was a subconscious thing. It was always interesting to watch and she had to wonder, more than she liked, what it might be like to be held in those beautifully muscular arms while he flew.
She slapped that thought away, as she always did. It wasn't something she'd ever experience. Warren was Jehnna's husband. And Morgan was happy with Remy.
The mere mention of Remy's name saw her seeking him through the link, even though she knew it was in vain. There had been nothing of him in her head since they'd been brought to this place. Nothing of Dare and Logan, either. And she didn't even know where Faye was. How had Sinister managed to block her off from everyone in her life that mattered to her? Where was everyone? Was anyone trying to find her and bring her home? Was she stuck in this hell for the rest of her life?
Frowning at herself and her thoughts, she pulled her attention away from that pit and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Her gaze flicked Warren's way. He'd shifted from pull ups to actual weight lifting. He was using one of those machines that allowed a person to lift weights while standing. She had to admit that watching him was a treat. The well-tailored clothes he normally wore hid his muscles. But here, with nothing but shorts and tank tops to wear, most of his body was left on display. He couldn't really get the tanks on because of the wings, so he went shirtless. And that was something of a visual feast.
The weight machine had him turned toward her, which gave her an unobstructed view of his torso. He had obviously worked hard to get the body he had. Sculpted pectorals gave way to a six-pack and an Apollo's belt. His shorts rode low enough on his hips to leave that last bit of anatomy on display. Morgan sometimes found herself staring at it in an odd sense of wonder, which made no sense. She'd seen Remy without his shirt, and without all of his clothes, enough to be familiar with the leanness that made an Apollo's belt stand out. He had his own. But there was something about Warren's physique that kept drawing her attention back to him.
She didn't like the way her gaze kept finding him again and again. They were both in a relationship with other people. And she loved Remy. A part of her wondered how he would react to this. She kind of worried that he would think she'd grabbed the opportunity to sleep with Warren with both hands. That was so far off the truth, though. She was satisfied with her odd little set up. She had Remy. She had Logan. She had Dare. She didn't need anyone else. There was spice and variety to her sex life. To the emotional relationships she had.
And yet...
She couldn't deny the fact that sex with Warren was kind of amazing. Different from Remy's slow burn. And from Logan's careful tenderness. Definitely different from Dare's almost demanding need. He was always conscious of her pleasure. Of her comfort. He did his best to ensure that Sinister didn't ruin their encounters. It was a consideration for which she would always be grateful. Just having that creeper watch them have sex gave her nightmares.
And it was just sex. She'd realized fairly early in that Warren was doing his best to treat it like some kind of business transaction. They were friendly when they were in their room, having conversations about their kids and being an X-Man and that kind of thing. But they were very careful about when they touched and how. Most of that was left for Sinister's cage. And Morgan was fine with that. It was bad enough that guilt ate at her every time she came undone under Warren's touch. Guilt because it wasn't Remy when it should have been. Guilt because Jehnna was almost stupidly sweet and she was head over heels for Warren. Morgan would never poach a man from one of her friends. That was a thing she just didn't do.
That mentality, the guilt that plagued her, did nothing to stop her from wondering, though. Because she liked the feel of Warren's hands on her body. She enjoyed the way he teased and coaxed and brought her to climax. She kind of wanted more. She did her best to hide that desire from him, attempting to steal covert looks at him. She couldn't stop herself from looking at the erection that constantly pressed against the material of his shorts. Despite knowing it was because of the shit Sinister pumped into the air, there was a small part of her that thrilled at the idea she could inspire that kind of need and desire in someone she wasn't supposed to be sleeping with.
She watched as he worked through a set of lifts, the weights clinking softly every time he lifted them up and lowered them down. The way his muscles flexed and tightened did weird little things to her, deep down in her belly. And there was an insane desire to lick the drops of sweat that rolled down his abdomen. She watched one do just that. And when it came to his belly button, she watched that drop skirt around the edge before sliding lower to soak into the waist of his shorts. She had an insane desire to lick the sweat off his chest.
She was not getting attached to Warren. She was absolutely not developing any kind of feelings for him. He was a friend. A fellow X-Man. The husband of one of her friends and teammates. She was not falling for him. It was some weird side effect of their enforced captivity. And the pheromones or whatever in the air. She was not going to let herself be swayed by those pretty blue eyes. By the golden blonde of his hair. Hair she knew was soft as silk. And she was definitely not going to moon over the pure white of his wings. Not at all. Even though she now understood why Jehnna had long been fascinated by them.
Her impromptu daydreaming was shattered when Warren dropped the weights and caught her staring at him. The smile he gave her made her heart race and there was a knowing look in his eyes that told her he was well aware she'd spent most of their time in the gym watching him. "Not feeling it today, Morgan?" he asked. There was a hint of masculine pride in his voice that told her he absolutely knew she'd been checking him out.
"I need someone to spar with," she replied. "That's how I usually work out." She tended to spar mostly with Faye, though she liked sparring with Rem. And sometimes she'd spar with Dare. Which might have been okay back in the day. In recent times, Dare had developed the uncanny ability to know where she was going to be and was more than capable of putting her on her ass. It was slightly unnerving. Worse, Dare had spent so much time sparring with Logan that she hit like a fucking Mack truck. Morgan had come away from their matches with more bruises than she'd been comfortable with.
Warren studied her a moment, then inclined his head. "I'll spar with you. I can't say that I'm as good at it as Remy, but I think I can hold my own well enough. What do you say?" he asked. He even tacked a smile on that melted her brains right into her toes.
"Sure," she responded. "Sounds good."
It sounded bad. It sounded so, so bad. Because her brain was giving her a full view of places it hoped this sparring session was going to go. Jesus Christ, she was in so much trouble.
~*~
The room was dark, but it didn't matter. He could find her by the feel of her emotions alone. They were a noisy, painful mess, and they were once again coming from the love seat. Every night for the past three weeks, she'd somehow managed to sneak out of bed and curl up on the love seat. And every night for the past three weeks, he'd woken to her side of the bed cold and empty. And he'd climbed out of the bed to go and carry her back to it. He'd had enough of it.
In fact, he'd had enough of her avoiding him when she could. Which was damn near all the time. How she managed to do so when they spent all their time together, day in and day out, was beyond him. He saw less and less of the woman she'd grown into over the years. The person sharing the room with him was a complete stranger to him.
He flipped on the light and stared at her across the room. Her back was to him and she was curled in on herself. The spill of her hair cascaded over the edge of the cushion and fell to the floor.He studied her, took note of the way her spine curved toward him and the way her feet were as close to her ass as she could get them. She'd curled in on herself literally and figuratively.
Whatever was going on with her, she didn't let it interfere with their daily trips to Sinister's lab. She never fought getting into the cube anymore. She just stepped inside, stiff and silent and filled with sorrow. It wasn't until he touched her that she blossomed, that she lost some of the sadness. She sighed softly. She begged sweetly for more. She writhed and moaned with pleasure. She came alive under his questing hands and hungry kisses. She welcomed him when he sank inside of her. She was warm and alive and filled with passion when they were stuck in that damn cage, performing for their captor. She reacted so intensely to him then that he couldn't help but thoroughly exhaust her each time they were in the cage. He was sure Sinister would expect no less.
Then, when they returned to their room, she headed into the bathroom without saying a word. And she cried. He never heard her. He just knew. She would spend a good long while in the bathroom. She showered when she was in there. And she came out bright pink. As if she'd scrubbed her skin raw in order to wash the stink of sex from it. Or to wash him off it. She acted like nothing was wrong and never gave him a straight answer when he asked. It was driving him crazy. The way she thrived under his touch in the cube and the way she wilted when they weren't being watched was making him wonder what it was he'd done that was so wrong.
He swore her behavior made it seem like was like he was living with two different people.
The sigh that rolled up his throat was filled with frustration. He closed the distance between himself and the love seat, then scooped her up. Almost immediately, she turned into his hold and inched closer. Just like she did every time he moved her back to the bed. It was an easy thing to carry her back to the bed. Instead of simply putting her into it as he usually did, he threw her onto the mattress. She bounced when she landed, hard enough that she almost catapulted over the side. And hard enough to wake her.
"Remy?" she asked, voice filled with confusion at the less than gentle treatment. Dare sat up in the bed and stared at him. For a moment, he saw the roaring flames of her desire in the endless grey of her eyes. In the next moment, the look was gone and he saw nothing. His temper spiked at the way she shut him out.
"Why you actin' like dis?" he demanded. Confusion filled her gaze for a moment.
"Like what?" The question and the emotions behind it were genuine. His temper ratcheted up a notch.
"Like you avoidin' me!" he snapped. Dare blinked at him a moment, as if she didn't understand the question. He felt a headache pulse to life in one temple as his anger roared to life and he prepared to go on a rant about her behavior. But the confusion disappeared and was replaced with a careful nothingness that was even worse.
"I'm not avoiding you, Remy," she said quietly.
"Bullshit!"
She cringed at the volume of his voice. At his temper. For a moment, he was reminded of the creature she'd become when they'd been held captive by Creed. For a moment, he regretted yelling at her. But that moment came and went when she shook her head. "I'm not avoiding you, Remy," she repeated.
"You don' talk to me. You don' look at me. You don' smile or laugh. You don' do anyt'ing. De only time you look alive is when we in de cage!" Hell, the only time she felt alive in his head was when they were in the cage.
She cringed at that, too. "I'm sorry," she whispered. And she shut him out, wrapping her arms around her legs while resting her forehead on her knees
"Sorry not good enough, Dare." He could feel the way she was pulling in, the way her emotions were thinning out and simply slipping away. She was not going to leave him here without at least that much. "We in dis together or did you forget dat?"
"No." That single word was a whisper of sound, barely audible in the silence of their room.
"Den why you actin' like you did?" Exasperation made his voice louder than he'd meant it to be. Sharper than he'd wanted it to be. He felt the sudden tremble of sadness a moment before she started crying. Silent tears. Fat tears that slid down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. She didn't hide them from him, didn't try to still the way her shoulders shook. His anger deflated in an instant. He settled on the bed next to her and tugged her into his hold.
She allowed him to, though her body was stiff and she didn't lift her head. Nor did she seek comfort and warmth in his hold. She held herself away from him. That hurt. She hadn't done anything like that since Creed's RV. He didn't understand why she was doing it now. He reached out and let his fingers glide over her hair, lifted them up so that they could glide through it this time. The silky feeling of it was a balm to his battered senses. And she shuddered with the touch. But it didn't stop her tears.
"Dare." He softened his voice when he said her name, tried to ease her tears so that she would look at him. "Why you actin' like dis, cher? Talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong."
She sobbed at that, then shook her head. When she lifted it from her knees and looked at him, there was too much to read in her eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. Its all me. I did everything wrong. And because I did, I don't deserve you."
Of all the things she could have said to him, he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined it would be something like that. But that feeling had been there for a long time. He could feel that it was old. And brittle. Under it was a layer of self-loathing that had been festering probably even longer. He hadn't felt that from her since before they'd started dating. "Why you t'ink dat, cher?"
"Because I'm selfish." That was not an answer he would have expected from her. Dare was rarely selfish. She routinely did everything she could for her friends and family. She barely left anything for herself.
"How you selfish?" he asked softly.
"Because I want something I can't have. I want what this isn't. But you belong to Morgan and she loves you so much. So, so much. And I can't look at you every day without my heart shattering. I can't let you smile at me because it doesn't mean what I want it to mean. I can't let you touch me because I'll think it means more than it does," she told him. None of it really made sense, but he let her continue. If he could get her to talk to him, he could find a way to fix whatever troubled her.
"Dare."
"Do you remember when you told Morgan she wasn't relationship material? You were wrong. She was so in love with you even then that someone as dense and as stupid as me could tell. That's why I left you after the threesome. Because I knew you didn't feel that way about me and I couldn't hurt Morgan anymore than I already had," she told him. The tears kept falling and her voice trembled with each word. Their link told him she was raw inside, that saying these things was tearing her apart.
"Dare."
"So I was stupid and I left because I couldn't handle it. I couldn't stand being in the way of her happiness. Because I knew I wouldn't find my happiness there. You told me, Remy. You told me that you didn't want a relationship. That it was too soon after Rogue." She went on, her words thick with her tears and the emotions she'd been holding in for far too long. "But I was stupid and I hoped and it was all in vain. And then I realized how much Morgan wanted you and I realized I was being selfish. You didn't want me. Not really. Even silly, naive, teenaged, love-struck Dare could see that. So I gave it up and I ran and I hurt you. I'm sorry I hurt you, Remy. I'm sorry you had to put up with me when you could have had Morgan all along."
Her pain wound around them both like a cat twining between their legs. It was a living, breathing thing that had consumed so much of her for far too long. He settled his hand on her shoulder in an offer of comfort. She let it rest where he'd put it, but she didn't take the comfort he offered. "Dare."
"I'm sorry, Remy. I did the worst thing ever and I fell in love with you when I knew you wouldn't want that from me. When I knew you didn't want me like that. And I hurt you with my selfishness. You deserved so much better than me because you're beautiful and you're bright and you're full of life. I didn't deserve you then and I don't deserve you now. I'm used and tainted and... I don't deserve to love you like I do."
He thought he'd known how deep her emotions for him ran. He'd been sure that her love was an infatuation. Haley had told him once that Dare loved him, but she'd been mistaken when she'd claimed it wasn't in the same way Dare loved Logan. Haley had been so wrong. And so had he. Because her love filled her. It overflowed onto him and he was staggered by how much of it she'd managed to hide for all those years.
He'd thought, back when they'd so briefly dated, that she'd been infatuated with him. That it had been some sort of crush. Hell, more than half the school had had a crush on him at one time or another. Still did. Somehow, he'd missed how much she loved him.
"Dare," he said softly. His fingers found her chin and lifted her head. She hadn't put it back down but she'd gone back to not looking at him. He turned her face toward him. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her cheeks were pale and wet. And he felt her helplessness. He felt her love, so pure and sweet and tender that it was almost painful to touch. Worst of all, he felt the fact that she believed her words to be true. She honestly felt that she was selfish. And that she didn't deserve him. That she was tainted by her past and that it made her less somehow.
He pulled her closer, angled her so that she had no choice but to look at him. And when he inched closer, she shook her head. tried to pull out of his embrace. "Please don't, Remy. If you're nice to me, I'll shatter and I won't be able to put myself back together."
The fear in her words, the fear that lived inside of her, tore at his heart. How long had she lived like this? How long had she believed that she was wrong? That she didn't deserve to be happy? Oh, she was happy with Logan. She loved him and she loved her children. But there was a part of her that felt that she didn't deserve that happiness either. That she didn't deserve that love. And he wanted to know how she'd come to that conclusion.
He had to prove her wrong. He had to show her that she was worthy of so much more than she thought she was. He took hold of her and tugged her into his lap. She didn't fight him, which was worse than the sadness. Worse than any anger she'd ever used to shield herself. She'd just... given up. So he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her to him. And he found her lips with his own, kissed her until she sighed and melted against him. Until he felt her hands wind their way into his hair so that she could clutch at him. Like he was a lifeline.
When he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened them for him. Allowed him to slip inside so that he could tease her tongue with his own. He kissed her until she couldn't breathe, until her nails scored his shoulders and her heart pounded in her chest. Only then did he pull away. "Dare, you t'ink all dis just because of de pheromones?" he asked her gently.
When she looked at him, he could see that she did. It made him wonder why she thought that. Did she think the foursome was just a way for Logan to sleep with him and Morgan? She was a part of it and her feelings had always mattered. They'd always been taken into consideration. It looked like maybe they should have talked things out with her more, made clear that the foursome was for all of them. Because there were emotions on all sides. It wasn't one sided at all. "Its okay, Remy. I know you'd rather have Morgan here than me."
She was giving him an out. Letting him have a reason to blame the sex on anything but the real reason. As if she couldn't believe he'd ever want to touch her willingly. He was astonished by the lengths to which her brain went to explain things away. To push away the truth because she didn't think she deserved that truth.
Anger filled him again. This time, it was anger for her. Who had told her that she didn't deserve to have the things she wanted? Who had made her think that she was so unworthy that she would sabotage her own happiness? If he could show them the error of their ways, he absolutely would. But that wasn't something he could do. Not in the here and now.
No. He couldn't slay her dragons for her. That was something she'd have to do for herself. But he could help her find the strength to slay them. Determination ran through him as his hands pulled at the tank top she wore. His actions startled her enough that he pulled the offending garment up and over her head. Even before it had floated to the floor over the side of the bed, he was working at ridding her of her panties. "Remy?" she asked. He didn't need the link or any power to know she was confused.
"How you don' know I love you, Dare? How you spend all dese years wit' me and you don' know I love you?" He made that his answer.
She was still staring up at him in shock and surprise when he took her down to the bed and let his hands and his lips tell her just how much he loved her.
Chapter Eight: Confrontations
Fandom: the Marvel universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic violence, language, sex, dark themes, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. Haley belongs to
dazzledfirestar Morgan belongs toginevra Roxxy belongs tonanaeanaven Jehnna belongs to silverfox_chan and Dare belongs to me. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from dazzledfirestar . Author's Notes: this is almost entirely Daz's fault. okay. so it really isn't. its actually almost 100% my fault. Daz just did a whole lot of encouraging. this fic is going to be kind of dark, so please keep that in mind while reading.
Among the Strong - the index
Her head felt like lead. That was the first thing that fluttered through her mind. The next thing was that there was an annoying beep somewhere. It pulsed in time with the slow thump of her heart. She wished it would go away. She wished the darkness would suck her down again because every inch of her felt like it had been through one hell of a fight. The only problem was that she couldn't recall such a fight. In fact, she really couldn't recall much of anything.
She swallowed, her throat dry and her tongue thick. Her lips felt chapped and cracked when they moved. Her skin was hot and it hated the sensation of cloth against it. It took more energy than she had to try and pry her eyes open. There was limited light around her, the room mostly cast in darkness. But a glance to her left showed her the machines there. She recognized them distantly as the monitors that Henry had on hand for medical emergencies.
She watched the screen for a while, noting how the heart line peaked each time her heart beat in her chest. It took her far longer than it should have to realize that she was hooked to that monitor. That it was tracking her heartbeat. She blinked at that. What had happened to see her in Henry's infirmary, hooked up to his monitors?
No answer was immediately forthcoming. She simply couldn't remember what had happened to put her in that bed. And something must have happened. She wouldn't be there otherwise. If only her brain would cooperate with her.
She watched the electronic proof that her heart was beating for a while, the rhythm steady and slightly hypnotic. Then she let her gaze slide from the monitor and the spot where the leads were situated to where they ended. Which was her arm. And her chest. She also found an IV taped into the back of her hand. That was a little confusing. Again, she had to wonder just what had happened that required Henry's medical knowledge? What had put her in the bed? She wished she knew, but her brain was simply not cooperating at all.
The sad truth was she really couldn't remember. She barely remembered her name, and that took effort. Her brain was so mushy that it took far too much energy to spark a thought in it. She closed her eyes and took a slow, steady breath. Even her chest felt like it had been slammed into by Mjölnir. What the hell kind of fight had she been in?
It had been a fight. Of that, she was sure. It had to have been bad to put her down like this. She pushed everything from her mind and tried to focus. Slowly, so very slowly, tiny images flashed across the thick darkness of her mind. And slowly, so very slowly, she began to remember.
The professor had sent Purple Team out. Something about the other teams going missing. Lots of sand. Empty transport. A portal. A group of women who... A finger of pain lanced through her skull. She thought it might be a warning to stop. She grit her teeth and ignored it, forced herself to think. To see. To remember all of it.
Four women. One in black. One in red. One with poison green wings. One with blonde hair and intense blue eyes. There had been so much fire. Red energy blasts. Green missiles. And burning sound waves.
One of them had said something about chosen. She'd called herself and the others with her...
The horsemen! They'd faced off with the horsemen. And she'd seen Morgan and Jehnna fall. Then something had slammed into her, pain and torn through her and... Haley!
The rest of it rushed her like a linebacker heading for the quarterback. All of the fine details of their trip to the desert. The fine details of that short, terrible fight. She'd woken to Logan and Piotr and the others coming out of the portal. Logan had sent her home. She'd insisted she had to see Johnny. To tell him about Haley. She'd felt like crap and Henry had been mad at her for not staying in bed. But she'd had to go see Johnny. She'd had to tell him about Haley in person. She'd had to assure him that she was going to do everything in her power to find Haley.
Fear spiked through her then. Fear for Haley and what might be happening to her. What might be happening to the rest of her team. She felt a surge of energy. She had to make good on her promise to Johnny, so she threw the covers back and tried to sit up. In moments, there were hands on her shoulders that pressed her back down against the bed. Roxxy found herself staring up into Henry's face and he looked... Not well. It looked as if he hadn't slept in recent memory and his clothes were wrinkled and unkempt. Even his fur was physically ruffled. She had to wonder at it. "Henry?" she asked, then frowned at just how weak and rough her voice was.
"You need to rest, Rosemary. The antitoxin is only just taking effect and I have no idea if moving will inhibit your recovery." He even sounded ruffled. She'd never quite heard him use that tone of voice with her before. Not even after having given birth to triplets. Twice. She could only blink at him as he made a show of pulling the blankets up over her. They were tucked around her neatly before Henry returned to the chair he'd obviously been occupying only seconds ago.
She watched, baffled, as he cleaned his glasses with the corner of his lab coat. And then what he'd said began to make sense to her, her brain coming back online just enough to untangle his words. "Antitoxin?" she asked. One hand reached for the bed's controls, took hold and pressed the button so she was sitting up. She was going to be sitting up for this conversation. "Henry, what's going on?"
"What do you remember, Rosemary?" he asked her. It seemed an odd question, but she knew he wouldn't ask without reason. So she took a moment to order her thoughts before she gave him an answer.
"We went to the desert to look for the other teams. They weren't there. Then a portal opened and four women stepped out of it. Apocalypse's horsemen. There was some speaking, Dare said fuck you, then there was a fight. I know they took down Morgan and Jehnna. After that... I don't recall anything."
"You were hit by one of Pestilence's feathers, Rosemary. It nearly killed you," Henry told her. There was a heaviness to his voice that told her he'd been afraid of just that result. Preparing himself for it. Which made her wonder just how bad it had been. "You've been unconscious for over twenty four hours."
"I... don't understand. How could a feather almost kill me?" she asked.
"There is a mutation in Pestilence's genetics that has rendered her essentially a walking body of poison. All she needs to do is introduce her flesh into the body of her opponent. Once this is done, it starts attacking that person's blood. it turns her victim's blood into poison. Your own blood was trying to kill you, Rosemary," he told her. She blinked at that. That... didn't make any sense at all. How could someone else's DNA turn her own body against her. "It took Reed and I working all night and into the day to find the answers. And then it took several hours to synthesize an antidote. You've been ill for a full day and then some, my dear. I almost lost you."
She could only stare at him. She'd nearly died? From a feather?
"I was not prepared to let you leave me just yet," he said, voice rough with emotion. She reached out and took his hand with hers.
"You found a way to save me, Henry," she told him gently. Her words brought his head up, his eyes bright with unshed tears. She could see the sorrow in his face. And she could see something more.
"I only administered the antidote a few hours ago, Rosemary. I had no idea if it would work or not. I was desperate and tried an untested antitoxin on you. I have been sitting here, trying to decide on the right way to inform our children that their mother died, should it have come to that." The last of his words came filled with weariness and sorrow. Roxxy squeezed his hand with her own.
"You don't have to tell them yet, Henry," she said gently.
He lifted his head and stared at her, sadness making his blue eyes so much bluer. "I cannot lose you, Rosemary. I would not be able to function without you at my side," he whispered.
His words and the soft sadness on his face, the obvious exhaustion and worry behind it, made her heart ache for him. She brought her free hand up and pressed her palm against his cheek. She had nothing to say, no words she could give him that would take that sadness away. So she simply pressed her hand to his cheek so that he knew she was there and alive. That she wasn't leaving him just yet. "I'm not going anywhere, Henry. But you are. You're exhausted. You need to rest. Go to bed."
"Rosemary," he began. Anything else he said trailed off. But she didn't need to hear it. The worry he felt was plain to see on his face. To hear in his words. She understood everything he hadn't spoken aloud.
"I'm not going anywhere, Henry," she repeated. "Go sleep. I promise I'll be here when you wake up. There is no where else I would rather be than here, at your side."
Henry stared at her a moment longer, then offered her a tired smile. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Rosemary."
"I love you, Henry," she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. Henry rested his forehead against hers, his hands suddenly holding her face between them.
"Music to my ears, my beloved. It has been too long since I've heard you sing this song." He pressed his own kiss on her, his lips a soft weight against hers. "Sing it for me again."
"Anytime, Henry," Roxxy replied. "I love you. I will always love you."
~*~
Morgan cast a not-so-covert look at her companion for what had to have been the billionth time in the last fifteen minutes. Warren was doing pull ups on some piece of equipment in the gym that Sinister's goblin things had escorted them to only a short while ago. Three weeks of this and she still wasn't entirely used to it.
They came to the gym for at least an hour every day. It was part of some set schedule that Sinister must have devised. Breakfast was delivered at seven am. What they were served varied from day to day, but there was always freshly cut fruit and yogurt served with things like eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hash browns, pancakes, waffles, and French toast. Coffee, tea, water, and juice were beverage options. Eleven saw them heading to the lab where they were once again herded into that big glass box for another round of voyeurism sex. When that was done, they were escorted back to their room, where lunch was waiting for them. Steaks, burgers, sausage, fish, rice, potatoes, salads, fresh veggies. All options for their midday and evening meals. In the afternoon, around three or so, they got their hour of work out time. Dinner at six thirty.
It was kind of comforting to have a schedule, even if not much else was comforting. Well, Warren was comforting. At that thought, she took her attention from the elliptical she was using and fastened it on Warren's back. Sweat gleamed on his bared shoulders and arms. His wings were tucked up against his back, though there were occasions where the feathered ruffled. She didn't know if he was doing it to rid himself of pent up aggression or if it was a subconscious thing. It was always interesting to watch and she had to wonder, more than she liked, what it might be like to be held in those beautifully muscular arms while he flew.
She slapped that thought away, as she always did. It wasn't something she'd ever experience. Warren was Jehnna's husband. And Morgan was happy with Remy.
The mere mention of Remy's name saw her seeking him through the link, even though she knew it was in vain. There had been nothing of him in her head since they'd been brought to this place. Nothing of Dare and Logan, either. And she didn't even know where Faye was. How had Sinister managed to block her off from everyone in her life that mattered to her? Where was everyone? Was anyone trying to find her and bring her home? Was she stuck in this hell for the rest of her life?
Frowning at herself and her thoughts, she pulled her attention away from that pit and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Her gaze flicked Warren's way. He'd shifted from pull ups to actual weight lifting. He was using one of those machines that allowed a person to lift weights while standing. She had to admit that watching him was a treat. The well-tailored clothes he normally wore hid his muscles. But here, with nothing but shorts and tank tops to wear, most of his body was left on display. He couldn't really get the tanks on because of the wings, so he went shirtless. And that was something of a visual feast.
The weight machine had him turned toward her, which gave her an unobstructed view of his torso. He had obviously worked hard to get the body he had. Sculpted pectorals gave way to a six-pack and an Apollo's belt. His shorts rode low enough on his hips to leave that last bit of anatomy on display. Morgan sometimes found herself staring at it in an odd sense of wonder, which made no sense. She'd seen Remy without his shirt, and without all of his clothes, enough to be familiar with the leanness that made an Apollo's belt stand out. He had his own. But there was something about Warren's physique that kept drawing her attention back to him.
She didn't like the way her gaze kept finding him again and again. They were both in a relationship with other people. And she loved Remy. A part of her wondered how he would react to this. She kind of worried that he would think she'd grabbed the opportunity to sleep with Warren with both hands. That was so far off the truth, though. She was satisfied with her odd little set up. She had Remy. She had Logan. She had Dare. She didn't need anyone else. There was spice and variety to her sex life. To the emotional relationships she had.
And yet...
She couldn't deny the fact that sex with Warren was kind of amazing. Different from Remy's slow burn. And from Logan's careful tenderness. Definitely different from Dare's almost demanding need. He was always conscious of her pleasure. Of her comfort. He did his best to ensure that Sinister didn't ruin their encounters. It was a consideration for which she would always be grateful. Just having that creeper watch them have sex gave her nightmares.
And it was just sex. She'd realized fairly early in that Warren was doing his best to treat it like some kind of business transaction. They were friendly when they were in their room, having conversations about their kids and being an X-Man and that kind of thing. But they were very careful about when they touched and how. Most of that was left for Sinister's cage. And Morgan was fine with that. It was bad enough that guilt ate at her every time she came undone under Warren's touch. Guilt because it wasn't Remy when it should have been. Guilt because Jehnna was almost stupidly sweet and she was head over heels for Warren. Morgan would never poach a man from one of her friends. That was a thing she just didn't do.
That mentality, the guilt that plagued her, did nothing to stop her from wondering, though. Because she liked the feel of Warren's hands on her body. She enjoyed the way he teased and coaxed and brought her to climax. She kind of wanted more. She did her best to hide that desire from him, attempting to steal covert looks at him. She couldn't stop herself from looking at the erection that constantly pressed against the material of his shorts. Despite knowing it was because of the shit Sinister pumped into the air, there was a small part of her that thrilled at the idea she could inspire that kind of need and desire in someone she wasn't supposed to be sleeping with.
She watched as he worked through a set of lifts, the weights clinking softly every time he lifted them up and lowered them down. The way his muscles flexed and tightened did weird little things to her, deep down in her belly. And there was an insane desire to lick the drops of sweat that rolled down his abdomen. She watched one do just that. And when it came to his belly button, she watched that drop skirt around the edge before sliding lower to soak into the waist of his shorts. She had an insane desire to lick the sweat off his chest.
She was not getting attached to Warren. She was absolutely not developing any kind of feelings for him. He was a friend. A fellow X-Man. The husband of one of her friends and teammates. She was not falling for him. It was some weird side effect of their enforced captivity. And the pheromones or whatever in the air. She was not going to let herself be swayed by those pretty blue eyes. By the golden blonde of his hair. Hair she knew was soft as silk. And she was definitely not going to moon over the pure white of his wings. Not at all. Even though she now understood why Jehnna had long been fascinated by them.
Her impromptu daydreaming was shattered when Warren dropped the weights and caught her staring at him. The smile he gave her made her heart race and there was a knowing look in his eyes that told her he was well aware she'd spent most of their time in the gym watching him. "Not feeling it today, Morgan?" he asked. There was a hint of masculine pride in his voice that told her he absolutely knew she'd been checking him out.
"I need someone to spar with," she replied. "That's how I usually work out." She tended to spar mostly with Faye, though she liked sparring with Rem. And sometimes she'd spar with Dare. Which might have been okay back in the day. In recent times, Dare had developed the uncanny ability to know where she was going to be and was more than capable of putting her on her ass. It was slightly unnerving. Worse, Dare had spent so much time sparring with Logan that she hit like a fucking Mack truck. Morgan had come away from their matches with more bruises than she'd been comfortable with.
Warren studied her a moment, then inclined his head. "I'll spar with you. I can't say that I'm as good at it as Remy, but I think I can hold my own well enough. What do you say?" he asked. He even tacked a smile on that melted her brains right into her toes.
"Sure," she responded. "Sounds good."
It sounded bad. It sounded so, so bad. Because her brain was giving her a full view of places it hoped this sparring session was going to go. Jesus Christ, she was in so much trouble.
~*~
The room was dark, but it didn't matter. He could find her by the feel of her emotions alone. They were a noisy, painful mess, and they were once again coming from the love seat. Every night for the past three weeks, she'd somehow managed to sneak out of bed and curl up on the love seat. And every night for the past three weeks, he'd woken to her side of the bed cold and empty. And he'd climbed out of the bed to go and carry her back to it. He'd had enough of it.
In fact, he'd had enough of her avoiding him when she could. Which was damn near all the time. How she managed to do so when they spent all their time together, day in and day out, was beyond him. He saw less and less of the woman she'd grown into over the years. The person sharing the room with him was a complete stranger to him.
He flipped on the light and stared at her across the room. Her back was to him and she was curled in on herself. The spill of her hair cascaded over the edge of the cushion and fell to the floor.He studied her, took note of the way her spine curved toward him and the way her feet were as close to her ass as she could get them. She'd curled in on herself literally and figuratively.
Whatever was going on with her, she didn't let it interfere with their daily trips to Sinister's lab. She never fought getting into the cube anymore. She just stepped inside, stiff and silent and filled with sorrow. It wasn't until he touched her that she blossomed, that she lost some of the sadness. She sighed softly. She begged sweetly for more. She writhed and moaned with pleasure. She came alive under his questing hands and hungry kisses. She welcomed him when he sank inside of her. She was warm and alive and filled with passion when they were stuck in that damn cage, performing for their captor. She reacted so intensely to him then that he couldn't help but thoroughly exhaust her each time they were in the cage. He was sure Sinister would expect no less.
Then, when they returned to their room, she headed into the bathroom without saying a word. And she cried. He never heard her. He just knew. She would spend a good long while in the bathroom. She showered when she was in there. And she came out bright pink. As if she'd scrubbed her skin raw in order to wash the stink of sex from it. Or to wash him off it. She acted like nothing was wrong and never gave him a straight answer when he asked. It was driving him crazy. The way she thrived under his touch in the cube and the way she wilted when they weren't being watched was making him wonder what it was he'd done that was so wrong.
He swore her behavior made it seem like was like he was living with two different people.
The sigh that rolled up his throat was filled with frustration. He closed the distance between himself and the love seat, then scooped her up. Almost immediately, she turned into his hold and inched closer. Just like she did every time he moved her back to the bed. It was an easy thing to carry her back to the bed. Instead of simply putting her into it as he usually did, he threw her onto the mattress. She bounced when she landed, hard enough that she almost catapulted over the side. And hard enough to wake her.
"Remy?" she asked, voice filled with confusion at the less than gentle treatment. Dare sat up in the bed and stared at him. For a moment, he saw the roaring flames of her desire in the endless grey of her eyes. In the next moment, the look was gone and he saw nothing. His temper spiked at the way she shut him out.
"Why you actin' like dis?" he demanded. Confusion filled her gaze for a moment.
"Like what?" The question and the emotions behind it were genuine. His temper ratcheted up a notch.
"Like you avoidin' me!" he snapped. Dare blinked at him a moment, as if she didn't understand the question. He felt a headache pulse to life in one temple as his anger roared to life and he prepared to go on a rant about her behavior. But the confusion disappeared and was replaced with a careful nothingness that was even worse.
"I'm not avoiding you, Remy," she said quietly.
"Bullshit!"
She cringed at the volume of his voice. At his temper. For a moment, he was reminded of the creature she'd become when they'd been held captive by Creed. For a moment, he regretted yelling at her. But that moment came and went when she shook her head. "I'm not avoiding you, Remy," she repeated.
"You don' talk to me. You don' look at me. You don' smile or laugh. You don' do anyt'ing. De only time you look alive is when we in de cage!" Hell, the only time she felt alive in his head was when they were in the cage.
She cringed at that, too. "I'm sorry," she whispered. And she shut him out, wrapping her arms around her legs while resting her forehead on her knees
"Sorry not good enough, Dare." He could feel the way she was pulling in, the way her emotions were thinning out and simply slipping away. She was not going to leave him here without at least that much. "We in dis together or did you forget dat?"
"No." That single word was a whisper of sound, barely audible in the silence of their room.
"Den why you actin' like you did?" Exasperation made his voice louder than he'd meant it to be. Sharper than he'd wanted it to be. He felt the sudden tremble of sadness a moment before she started crying. Silent tears. Fat tears that slid down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. She didn't hide them from him, didn't try to still the way her shoulders shook. His anger deflated in an instant. He settled on the bed next to her and tugged her into his hold.
She allowed him to, though her body was stiff and she didn't lift her head. Nor did she seek comfort and warmth in his hold. She held herself away from him. That hurt. She hadn't done anything like that since Creed's RV. He didn't understand why she was doing it now. He reached out and let his fingers glide over her hair, lifted them up so that they could glide through it this time. The silky feeling of it was a balm to his battered senses. And she shuddered with the touch. But it didn't stop her tears.
"Dare." He softened his voice when he said her name, tried to ease her tears so that she would look at him. "Why you actin' like dis, cher? Talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong."
She sobbed at that, then shook her head. When she lifted it from her knees and looked at him, there was too much to read in her eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. Its all me. I did everything wrong. And because I did, I don't deserve you."
Of all the things she could have said to him, he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined it would be something like that. But that feeling had been there for a long time. He could feel that it was old. And brittle. Under it was a layer of self-loathing that had been festering probably even longer. He hadn't felt that from her since before they'd started dating. "Why you t'ink dat, cher?"
"Because I'm selfish." That was not an answer he would have expected from her. Dare was rarely selfish. She routinely did everything she could for her friends and family. She barely left anything for herself.
"How you selfish?" he asked softly.
"Because I want something I can't have. I want what this isn't. But you belong to Morgan and she loves you so much. So, so much. And I can't look at you every day without my heart shattering. I can't let you smile at me because it doesn't mean what I want it to mean. I can't let you touch me because I'll think it means more than it does," she told him. None of it really made sense, but he let her continue. If he could get her to talk to him, he could find a way to fix whatever troubled her.
"Dare."
"Do you remember when you told Morgan she wasn't relationship material? You were wrong. She was so in love with you even then that someone as dense and as stupid as me could tell. That's why I left you after the threesome. Because I knew you didn't feel that way about me and I couldn't hurt Morgan anymore than I already had," she told him. The tears kept falling and her voice trembled with each word. Their link told him she was raw inside, that saying these things was tearing her apart.
"Dare."
"So I was stupid and I left because I couldn't handle it. I couldn't stand being in the way of her happiness. Because I knew I wouldn't find my happiness there. You told me, Remy. You told me that you didn't want a relationship. That it was too soon after Rogue." She went on, her words thick with her tears and the emotions she'd been holding in for far too long. "But I was stupid and I hoped and it was all in vain. And then I realized how much Morgan wanted you and I realized I was being selfish. You didn't want me. Not really. Even silly, naive, teenaged, love-struck Dare could see that. So I gave it up and I ran and I hurt you. I'm sorry I hurt you, Remy. I'm sorry you had to put up with me when you could have had Morgan all along."
Her pain wound around them both like a cat twining between their legs. It was a living, breathing thing that had consumed so much of her for far too long. He settled his hand on her shoulder in an offer of comfort. She let it rest where he'd put it, but she didn't take the comfort he offered. "Dare."
"I'm sorry, Remy. I did the worst thing ever and I fell in love with you when I knew you wouldn't want that from me. When I knew you didn't want me like that. And I hurt you with my selfishness. You deserved so much better than me because you're beautiful and you're bright and you're full of life. I didn't deserve you then and I don't deserve you now. I'm used and tainted and... I don't deserve to love you like I do."
He thought he'd known how deep her emotions for him ran. He'd been sure that her love was an infatuation. Haley had told him once that Dare loved him, but she'd been mistaken when she'd claimed it wasn't in the same way Dare loved Logan. Haley had been so wrong. And so had he. Because her love filled her. It overflowed onto him and he was staggered by how much of it she'd managed to hide for all those years.
He'd thought, back when they'd so briefly dated, that she'd been infatuated with him. That it had been some sort of crush. Hell, more than half the school had had a crush on him at one time or another. Still did. Somehow, he'd missed how much she loved him.
"Dare," he said softly. His fingers found her chin and lifted her head. She hadn't put it back down but she'd gone back to not looking at him. He turned her face toward him. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her cheeks were pale and wet. And he felt her helplessness. He felt her love, so pure and sweet and tender that it was almost painful to touch. Worst of all, he felt the fact that she believed her words to be true. She honestly felt that she was selfish. And that she didn't deserve him. That she was tainted by her past and that it made her less somehow.
He pulled her closer, angled her so that she had no choice but to look at him. And when he inched closer, she shook her head. tried to pull out of his embrace. "Please don't, Remy. If you're nice to me, I'll shatter and I won't be able to put myself back together."
The fear in her words, the fear that lived inside of her, tore at his heart. How long had she lived like this? How long had she believed that she was wrong? That she didn't deserve to be happy? Oh, she was happy with Logan. She loved him and she loved her children. But there was a part of her that felt that she didn't deserve that happiness either. That she didn't deserve that love. And he wanted to know how she'd come to that conclusion.
He had to prove her wrong. He had to show her that she was worthy of so much more than she thought she was. He took hold of her and tugged her into his lap. She didn't fight him, which was worse than the sadness. Worse than any anger she'd ever used to shield herself. She'd just... given up. So he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her to him. And he found her lips with his own, kissed her until she sighed and melted against him. Until he felt her hands wind their way into his hair so that she could clutch at him. Like he was a lifeline.
When he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened them for him. Allowed him to slip inside so that he could tease her tongue with his own. He kissed her until she couldn't breathe, until her nails scored his shoulders and her heart pounded in her chest. Only then did he pull away. "Dare, you t'ink all dis just because of de pheromones?" he asked her gently.
When she looked at him, he could see that she did. It made him wonder why she thought that. Did she think the foursome was just a way for Logan to sleep with him and Morgan? She was a part of it and her feelings had always mattered. They'd always been taken into consideration. It looked like maybe they should have talked things out with her more, made clear that the foursome was for all of them. Because there were emotions on all sides. It wasn't one sided at all. "Its okay, Remy. I know you'd rather have Morgan here than me."
She was giving him an out. Letting him have a reason to blame the sex on anything but the real reason. As if she couldn't believe he'd ever want to touch her willingly. He was astonished by the lengths to which her brain went to explain things away. To push away the truth because she didn't think she deserved that truth.
Anger filled him again. This time, it was anger for her. Who had told her that she didn't deserve to have the things she wanted? Who had made her think that she was so unworthy that she would sabotage her own happiness? If he could show them the error of their ways, he absolutely would. But that wasn't something he could do. Not in the here and now.
No. He couldn't slay her dragons for her. That was something she'd have to do for herself. But he could help her find the strength to slay them. Determination ran through him as his hands pulled at the tank top she wore. His actions startled her enough that he pulled the offending garment up and over her head. Even before it had floated to the floor over the side of the bed, he was working at ridding her of her panties. "Remy?" she asked. He didn't need the link or any power to know she was confused.
"How you don' know I love you, Dare? How you spend all dese years wit' me and you don' know I love you?" He made that his answer.
She was still staring up at him in shock and surprise when he took her down to the bed and let his hands and his lips tell her just how much he loved her.
