![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ginevrasm.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
marysuevirusTitle: The Mutant Sue Virus:
Chapter Title: The Ghost at the Party.
Fandom: X-Men, Comics Universe, Earth-6916
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Graphic Sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and the setting used here are the property of Marvel Comics. Those characters described as “Mutant Sues” or “Mary Sues” are the property of Ladydeathfaerie, Nanaea, Dazzledfirestar, SilverFoxChan, and Ginevra. This story is inspired by, and is intended as a sequel to Dazzledfirestar’s “The Mary Sue Virus” and is written with her permission by Ginevra with lots of input from the above-mentioned ladies. Beta and plot bunny wrangling credit goes to Ladydeathfaerie. We make no money from this work. Enjoy.
Need to catch up on something you've missed? Check out the Mutant Sue Virus: Link Index...
Author’s Note: While it’s February for our Mutant Sues, it’s October for those of us in the real (relatively) world. When the Lady suggested I tell this part of the story from a new POV, I thought about it. It seems strangely appropriate to me, both in terms of our tale and in light of the upcoming holiday. So I went with it. I hope you find it more a treat than a trick. Enjoy.
Chapter Fifty Six: The Ghost at the Party.
She would have loved to dance. Faye drifted unseen through the room, threading her way between the laughing, dancing couples. She could have simply ridden with Morgan, danced with her feet, laughed with her voice, and held him with her arms. And she would, later, when Morgan slept. She would wrap those memories around herself like a dream. A lovely dream.
But for now the reality was a bit too chill and lonely for her. She would have liked to play this game of trading partners. It looked like such fun. Even Dare was dancing, the ruffles of her skirt in constant motion as Logan led her about the impromptu dance floor. There were moments when she forgot that she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself. Moments when her gray eyes sparkled with honest laughter. Good, honest laughter.
And there went Morgan, her eyes wide and half startled as the great blue-furred doctor swung her about in a skillful turn. The largest and the smallest of the revelers, they made a strangely graceful pair. She could feel the butterflies that danced along with them in Morgan’s stomach. Roxxy had practically thrown the girl at him when she hesitated to take his hand. But Morgan had taken it then and now they danced.
Jehnna and Piotr made a handsome pairing, moving together as if they’d partnered many times instead of just this once. The young woman was chattering away animatedly while the big Russian nodded and smiled. A towering saint made flesh. Or perhaps he really was enjoying all this just as much as the girl. He’d shown more humor than she thought him capable of tonight, much to Morgan’s chagrin.
Her ghostly eyes slid then to the flutter of snowy wings. Warren’s wings were a striking backdrop for Roxxy’s exotic beauty and fluid grace. Faye’s ghostly fingers itched a moment and she considered stealing the camera back to snap a few photos of the pair. But no, still pictures couldn’t possibly capture the moment. And her sudden appearance might break the mood.
At last her eyes fell on the couple that she’d been avoiding. There he was. His strong hands were on Haley’s waist, his gaze fixed on her face while she shared some joke that made his lips curl into a smile. They moved about the room in broad, dramatic motions that drew the eye and brought to mind old movies where the men wore tuxes and the women wore ball gowns.
Yes. She wished she could join the fun, if only for one dance. Just one dance with him. She sighed to herself. No. Things were going well. This game was not one for odd numbers and her presence would be nothing but a disruption. Morgan would be annoyed, Dare would remember that she hated dancing and the Cajun might very well turn her down.
What perverse imp of fate had set her fancy on the one mortal man who seemed to see her as a separate entity and not simply Morgan’s reflection? The music changed again, this time to something softer and slower. Partners changed again and it was Morgan in his arms. Morgan who looked up into his face with an expression that had before only belonged to Dare. One that the girl would deny adamantly if she were called on it.
His face wore a matching expression. For her. For Morgan. It was a sight that should have pleased her. Except that in her heart of hearts, or whatever passed for it in her current state, she wished it were for her. The wish was enough to snap her back into unity with her host. For a moment she danced with him, felt his arms around her, looked up into his face, listened to the musical rhythm of his voice as he teased her about her dancing. No. He teased Morgan. Not her.
She fled the shared body, the room, the party, and him. She fled to some place dark and quiet and as lonely as she felt. She reformed, taking just enough substance so that she could feel the wind on her face but not it’s wintry bite. It was here on the roof, the decorative cupola to her back, where the vision found her.
Faces without names, voices without words. Incomplete images that mocked and baited in turns. A circle of chairs ranged about a table, one seat empty. A book, Jehnna’s lost journal, the pages turning slowly beneath the well-manicured fingers of a woman’s hand. Dancing couples, their bodies moving faster and faster until the women’s gowns became a blur of sparkling color. A single white feather drifting on the wind, fluttering like a wounded thing. Something dark and heavy looming like a thundercloud just beyond the horizon.
“Something is coming.” She spoke to that illusionary feather on the wind. “I can feel it, but I can’t see the shape of it. Something…”
“Morgan? Liebchen? What are you doing?” The voice was soft and careful so as not to startle her. But it was enough to shred the vision’s fragile substance. “Why are you not at the party?”
“Morgan is at the party. With him.” She answered him absently, her thoughts still focused on the vision’s remnants, trying to glean something useful. Her eyes searched the star-filled sky as if she could find the meaning written there. She turned at her companion’s gasp of surprise when his fingers passed through her arm as if it were made of mist. “Three’s a crowd.”
The passing of his flesh through hers left a phantom tingle that would have had her skin running with goose flesh if she’d been solid enough for such things. He was little more than a shadow next to her, but she thought she saw him rubbing his fingers together as if touching her had felt as odd to him as it did to her. His amber eyes blinked twice before he spoke again. “Come inside, it is not safe out here.”
He reached out to her again. Not touching but his hand was there, outstretched. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to fall. I’m not real enough to be hurt if I did.”
“Humor me, liebchen. Come inside.” There was a flash of white as he smiled at her. “Please.”
She shook her head and smiled, but she reached for his hand. A twist of will and her hand was real and solid in his. Solid but cold enough that he gave a hiss and tugged her closer. “You are freezing.”
“I am now.” She chattered and let him pull her through one of the openings that stared out into the night like blind eyes. Once inside, she pulled away from him and frowned. She didn’t like the cold and he didn’t like her ghostly. “What are you doing here?”
“I imagine the same as you. Brooding in the dark.” His laugh was a warm, soft chuckle. “But I dressed for the occasion.”
“Humph.” The dress that Morgan had chosen for the party did little to shield her from the cold. She made her decision, letting go of her solidity long enough to become mist and reforming, wearing a copy of Morgan’s favorite coat over the party dress. “Better?”
“Ja. Better.” He was close, leaning against the wall, the starlight falling across his profile. He was studying her with what she thought was a thoughtful expression. “You looked like a ghost there, it gave me quite a start.”
“I didn’t think anyone would see me.” She shrugged and snuggled deeper into the coat. A hint of the Cajun’s cologne wafted up from the red wool and she sighed. “Why are you hiding up here?”
“I am not hiding.” He shifted, pressing his shoulders against the wood and disappearing into the gloom. It was more a suggestion of movement than actual sight that told her that he had crossed his arms. “No one will miss me. It is simply a good place for thinking.”
“Brooding. You said ‘brooding.’” She let some of her substance bleed away. It took too much energy and attention to stay solid while Morgan was awake. Not to mention she didn’t have to feel the cold this way. She tilted her head, trying to catch enough of a glimpse of his face to read his expression. “Do you miss her?”
“That is a strange question coming from…” He stopped, giving a harsh chuckle. “Am I so transparent?”
“No. I’m the transparent one.” She gave him a wry grin and let herself fade enough that her shadow melted away. Then she reformed again, giving herself enough substance so that she could reach out and touch his arm. “Lonely?”
“A little.” He shrugged. “They seem happy together. He had no patience with the debriefing, he was so eager to see her again.”
“Yeah.” Her tone must have held more of her frustration than she meant it to. He reached out to trace a finger along her cheek. The touch was soft and gentle and filled with a familiarity that hurt in it’s intimacy.
“Why are you here, liebchen? I did not think you strayed so far from your other self.”
“He wants her. Not me, Kurt. He’s the only one who sees me.” She reached up and caught the fingers before they could drop away. She held his hand to her face. “You treat me like her because you see her when you look at me. He doesn’t.”
“I don’t understand.” His voice held the confusion she felt, but his fingers were warm against her cheek, solid in her hand. It felt good to touch and be touched. The girls no longer needed her so much and she found that she missed it.
“Dance with me, Kurt?” She stepped away, pulling his hand with her.
“Here? There is no music.” He followed her, despite his protest. And when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his, he held her. They swayed back and forth in aimless circles for a time. There were no words, no sounds but the gentle sighing of the wind and the scuffing of their feet across the bare wood. He was warm and solid, their bodies moving smoothly together in the darkness. Of course, hers was made of will and wishes, so what did it mean, really?
“See? We don’t need any music.” She sighed and lifted her face to his. A borrowed memory flickered through her thoughts. Of a kiss offered and rejected. But this one was not. His lips met hers, soft and unhurried. She sighed and clung a little tighter to him as her hold on solidity began to falter, the tether that bound her to Morgan pulling her back. A taste spread across her tongue, tiny bubbles dancing in her mouth.
“Champagne?” His startled question faded with the cupola and it’s starlit shadows. She was back, once more a passive passenger in Morgan’s body. It was Morgan who was sipping champagne while her friends crowded around in a haphazard circle.
“To good friends.” Warren raised a sparkling glass, half filled with liquid. His free arm was about Jehnna’s shoulders while her arm was wrapped around his waist beneath his wings. There was a round of good-natured responses.
“To lovers.” Roxxy offered, her amber eyes sliding upwards to meet the doctor’s in sly challenge.
“To good lovers.” Remy’s voice drawled, his voice vibrating through his chest. Morgan gave him a playful push and laughed. Faye could feel the warmth of the blush staining her cheeks.
“To soundproofing.” Haley snorted and raised her own glass. The big Russian beside her shook his head, but raised his glass all the same.
“To beer, cause this shit ain’t good for much.” Dare smirked. Logan snorted and took the glass from her, draining it in one swallow. “Hey!”
“Yer too young ta be drinking anyway.” He growled but he winked at her. He raised the empty glass. “To cold nights and snuggling up with a pretty girl.”
Maybe the champagne was a bit more potent than Dare thought, considering how flushed she looked. Faye smiled inwardly, momentarily distracted.
“Oui. De only good ‘ting about a night dis cold is having someone to warm you bones.” Morgan’s reactions were just a little slow, dulled by the effects of the champagne. Remy’s were not, however. Before the girl could react, he’d taken her glass from her, setting both her glass and his aside and pulling her against him for a kiss that sent heat flooding from her head to her toes.
“I think, on that note, it is time we adjourned.” Henry’s voice was full of tolerant humor.
Faye agreed wholeheartedly and when the blue-furred mutant put his arm around Roxxy to lead her from the room, she followed. Later she would savor the memories, but for now, the heat between her host and her lover burned too hot for comfort. She trailed Roxxy and Henry as they made their way through empty halls. They were completely unaware of their invisible watcher. That was clear in the way they touched each other. A brush of the hand, a rub of a shoulder, a kiss stolen at the top of the staircase.
She lingered to watch a few moments longer, fascinated by the carefully thorough way the Beast kissed her friend. Roxxy’s response was a low growl that seemed to thrum in the air. The kiss over, the pair moved on, their pace quickened. Faye let them go on without her. She turned her attention elsewhere.
She let herself drift for a while, slipping unseen through the silent hallways. Most of the students were asleep. Threads of vision still lingered in her mind, leaving her uneasy. Her wanderings took her from the dormitories into the wing reserved for the X-Men. Silent and insubstantial as a ghost, she slipped from room to room, finding each pair of lovers.
Here, Jehnna smiled shyly as she modeled the black silk chemise that she wore beneath the kimono. “Do you like it? I almost didn’t get it.”
“I’m glad you did. I like it.”
Warren’s smile was gentle and appreciative as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss. He was already bare to the waist and his wings rustled softly, spreading about them in a halo of whiteness. His wings gleamed softly in the light of a single lamp. The sight of his feathers reminded her again of the vision and she moved on. If she could not make sense of it, she preferred not to dwell on it.
She paused outside Logan’s door, but did not go in. Not now. Not yet. She turned her path and her mind from the pair for the moment. Dare could be no safer than she was with him at this moment. She caught the sound of familiar laughter from further down the corridor and let it draw her there.
“So I take it you’ve changed your mind?” Haley’s voice was playful and teasing. She was leaning against the doorjamb of Piotr’s room, blocking the doorway.
“You have good friends.” He shrugged. “Some of them dance very well.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She swatted the large man playfully on the arm. “You like them.”
“I think this is one of those questions that no man can answer correctly.” He rubbed his arm as if it stung. “So I will say that I do not dislike them.”
“Oh. You!” Haley reached behind her to open the door. As the door swung wide, she grabbed a double handful of his shirt and pulled him in after her. “Admit it, you had fun dancing with my friends.”
“I did…” The door shut, closing their conversation behind it. Faye considered following them, her curiosity aroused by this more playful side of the usually stoic Russian. But no, she did not truly feel all that playful.
Indecision caused her to waver, losing for a moment her grip on separateness. Then there was a searing flash of shared awareness. Of a mouth feeding hungrily at hers, fingers gliding along her bare skin, a body lean and muscled next to hers. Her own body was already on fire with need for him, his touch, his body, and that other, less tangible touch of his mind against hers.
No. Not hers. Morgan’s. She tore herself away before her host could sense the intrusion. With other lovers, Morgan hadn’t cared one way or the other. Sometimes she’d even offered to share. But with Remy – her feelings were still raw and new and Faye never knew which side they would fall on. Best to keep her distance.
It was hard to say how much of the night passed while she slowly drew the shreds of self back together. She took her time, the experience leaving her feeling battered and not a little out of sorts. Random sensations and images trickled through the link she shared with the girl. Faye pushed them away one by one until she was once again herself and alone in the corridor.
This time when her wandering drew her to Logan’s door, she slipped through it. He’d left the drapes open wide to the night and the room was bathed in soft starlight. She watched them sleep for a moment. Logan lay on his back, one arm beneath Dare’s head. The other hand rested loosely on his stomach pinning the tangled blankets there. Dare was curled around him, her face looking young and peaceful as she slept. A delicate mental touch proved that her sleeping thoughts matched the expression. There would be no nightmares tonight. No bad dreams to be soothed away.
And if there were, Logan would be there. Faye sighed, the sound audible enough that the man stirred in his sleep. He turned his head toward Dare and drew his arms around her protectively. No. She wasn’t needed here.
She let her tether draw her back to her host. Morgan’s mind was still, sleeping the sleep of the truly sated. She found the girl curled up with Remy beneath a thick layer of blankets. The covers were pulled up so high that only Morgan’s head was visible, resting on Remy’s shoulder. His hair was spread loose and tangled across the pillow. The drapes here were closed, but there was a nightlight in the bathroom that shed a cool bluish light.
She lingered, watching them. Or, if she were honest, watching him. There was space enough on the other side of him that she could have climbed beneath the covers. She considered it, wondering how he would respond. Would he wake? Would he welcome her? Or would it be so awkward it caused another fight? Should she just allow herself to be drawn into Morgan’s slumber and let the night pass that way?
No. Not tonight. Not with amorphous visions plaguing her thoughts. They might bleed over into Morgan’s dreams. Or Remy might wake and she would have to decide again whether to remain or flee.
Coward, she called herself. But she left them. This night was theirs. Another night she would brave the confusion and emotional firing zone. She drifted off, a solitary presence.
Alone. So much of what she was and did was shared or borrowed or in some way tangled up with the girls. Loneliness drew her to another door. A room that held only one mind and body. The room was dim, the blinds half drawn so that the shadows were deep. She could hear the soft sounds of breathing and the rustle of sheets as the sleeper shifted restlessly.
She approached the bed and sat down on it. She reformed slowly, clothing herself in a dorm shirt. The green cotton was so faded it was nearly white in the gloom and the fabric was soft and worn from countless washings. Even this close, the bed’s occupant was just a dark shadow amongst the lighter sheets. She leaned closer, reaching out to touch one arm where it lay limp on the bed. He started at her touch, golden eyes blinking at her sudden appearance.
“Was? Morgan?”
“No.” The eyes blinked again and he shifted beneath the blankets, turning toward her. “Is that OK?”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes blinked again. “Ja.”
He moved again and lifted the blankets in a silent invitation. It was her turn to blink. But she wasted no time slipping beneath the covers. She rolled onto her side, her back to his warmth, her face turned toward the windows. He waited quietly for her to settle herself.
When she stopped moving, he slowly curled up around her, his motions cautious as if he were waiting for her to vanish or protest. She didn’t and when he was spooned up against her back, his arm slung around her waist, he relaxed with a sigh against her hair. She listened to his breathing slow, letting her thoughts drift.
“Do you sleep?” She thought him already asleep when he spoke, a sleepy murmur in the dark.
“Sometimes.” She snuggled a little deeper into his body and sighed. The arm around her waist squeezed gently. He was silent for so long this time that she was on the very edge of sleep.
“Do you dream?”
“Always.”
Chapter Title: The Ghost at the Party.
Fandom: X-Men, Comics Universe, Earth-6916
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Graphic Sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and the setting used here are the property of Marvel Comics. Those characters described as “Mutant Sues” or “Mary Sues” are the property of Ladydeathfaerie, Nanaea, Dazzledfirestar, SilverFoxChan, and Ginevra. This story is inspired by, and is intended as a sequel to Dazzledfirestar’s “The Mary Sue Virus” and is written with her permission by Ginevra with lots of input from the above-mentioned ladies. Beta and plot bunny wrangling credit goes to Ladydeathfaerie. We make no money from this work. Enjoy.
Need to catch up on something you've missed? Check out the Mutant Sue Virus: Link Index...
Author’s Note: While it’s February for our Mutant Sues, it’s October for those of us in the real (relatively) world. When the Lady suggested I tell this part of the story from a new POV, I thought about it. It seems strangely appropriate to me, both in terms of our tale and in light of the upcoming holiday. So I went with it. I hope you find it more a treat than a trick. Enjoy.
Chapter Fifty Six: The Ghost at the Party.
She would have loved to dance. Faye drifted unseen through the room, threading her way between the laughing, dancing couples. She could have simply ridden with Morgan, danced with her feet, laughed with her voice, and held him with her arms. And she would, later, when Morgan slept. She would wrap those memories around herself like a dream. A lovely dream.
But for now the reality was a bit too chill and lonely for her. She would have liked to play this game of trading partners. It looked like such fun. Even Dare was dancing, the ruffles of her skirt in constant motion as Logan led her about the impromptu dance floor. There were moments when she forgot that she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself. Moments when her gray eyes sparkled with honest laughter. Good, honest laughter.
And there went Morgan, her eyes wide and half startled as the great blue-furred doctor swung her about in a skillful turn. The largest and the smallest of the revelers, they made a strangely graceful pair. She could feel the butterflies that danced along with them in Morgan’s stomach. Roxxy had practically thrown the girl at him when she hesitated to take his hand. But Morgan had taken it then and now they danced.
Jehnna and Piotr made a handsome pairing, moving together as if they’d partnered many times instead of just this once. The young woman was chattering away animatedly while the big Russian nodded and smiled. A towering saint made flesh. Or perhaps he really was enjoying all this just as much as the girl. He’d shown more humor than she thought him capable of tonight, much to Morgan’s chagrin.
Her ghostly eyes slid then to the flutter of snowy wings. Warren’s wings were a striking backdrop for Roxxy’s exotic beauty and fluid grace. Faye’s ghostly fingers itched a moment and she considered stealing the camera back to snap a few photos of the pair. But no, still pictures couldn’t possibly capture the moment. And her sudden appearance might break the mood.
At last her eyes fell on the couple that she’d been avoiding. There he was. His strong hands were on Haley’s waist, his gaze fixed on her face while she shared some joke that made his lips curl into a smile. They moved about the room in broad, dramatic motions that drew the eye and brought to mind old movies where the men wore tuxes and the women wore ball gowns.
Yes. She wished she could join the fun, if only for one dance. Just one dance with him. She sighed to herself. No. Things were going well. This game was not one for odd numbers and her presence would be nothing but a disruption. Morgan would be annoyed, Dare would remember that she hated dancing and the Cajun might very well turn her down.
What perverse imp of fate had set her fancy on the one mortal man who seemed to see her as a separate entity and not simply Morgan’s reflection? The music changed again, this time to something softer and slower. Partners changed again and it was Morgan in his arms. Morgan who looked up into his face with an expression that had before only belonged to Dare. One that the girl would deny adamantly if she were called on it.
His face wore a matching expression. For her. For Morgan. It was a sight that should have pleased her. Except that in her heart of hearts, or whatever passed for it in her current state, she wished it were for her. The wish was enough to snap her back into unity with her host. For a moment she danced with him, felt his arms around her, looked up into his face, listened to the musical rhythm of his voice as he teased her about her dancing. No. He teased Morgan. Not her.
She fled the shared body, the room, the party, and him. She fled to some place dark and quiet and as lonely as she felt. She reformed, taking just enough substance so that she could feel the wind on her face but not it’s wintry bite. It was here on the roof, the decorative cupola to her back, where the vision found her.
Faces without names, voices without words. Incomplete images that mocked and baited in turns. A circle of chairs ranged about a table, one seat empty. A book, Jehnna’s lost journal, the pages turning slowly beneath the well-manicured fingers of a woman’s hand. Dancing couples, their bodies moving faster and faster until the women’s gowns became a blur of sparkling color. A single white feather drifting on the wind, fluttering like a wounded thing. Something dark and heavy looming like a thundercloud just beyond the horizon.
“Something is coming.” She spoke to that illusionary feather on the wind. “I can feel it, but I can’t see the shape of it. Something…”
“Morgan? Liebchen? What are you doing?” The voice was soft and careful so as not to startle her. But it was enough to shred the vision’s fragile substance. “Why are you not at the party?”
“Morgan is at the party. With him.” She answered him absently, her thoughts still focused on the vision’s remnants, trying to glean something useful. Her eyes searched the star-filled sky as if she could find the meaning written there. She turned at her companion’s gasp of surprise when his fingers passed through her arm as if it were made of mist. “Three’s a crowd.”
The passing of his flesh through hers left a phantom tingle that would have had her skin running with goose flesh if she’d been solid enough for such things. He was little more than a shadow next to her, but she thought she saw him rubbing his fingers together as if touching her had felt as odd to him as it did to her. His amber eyes blinked twice before he spoke again. “Come inside, it is not safe out here.”
He reached out to her again. Not touching but his hand was there, outstretched. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to fall. I’m not real enough to be hurt if I did.”
“Humor me, liebchen. Come inside.” There was a flash of white as he smiled at her. “Please.”
She shook her head and smiled, but she reached for his hand. A twist of will and her hand was real and solid in his. Solid but cold enough that he gave a hiss and tugged her closer. “You are freezing.”
“I am now.” She chattered and let him pull her through one of the openings that stared out into the night like blind eyes. Once inside, she pulled away from him and frowned. She didn’t like the cold and he didn’t like her ghostly. “What are you doing here?”
“I imagine the same as you. Brooding in the dark.” His laugh was a warm, soft chuckle. “But I dressed for the occasion.”
“Humph.” The dress that Morgan had chosen for the party did little to shield her from the cold. She made her decision, letting go of her solidity long enough to become mist and reforming, wearing a copy of Morgan’s favorite coat over the party dress. “Better?”
“Ja. Better.” He was close, leaning against the wall, the starlight falling across his profile. He was studying her with what she thought was a thoughtful expression. “You looked like a ghost there, it gave me quite a start.”
“I didn’t think anyone would see me.” She shrugged and snuggled deeper into the coat. A hint of the Cajun’s cologne wafted up from the red wool and she sighed. “Why are you hiding up here?”
“I am not hiding.” He shifted, pressing his shoulders against the wood and disappearing into the gloom. It was more a suggestion of movement than actual sight that told her that he had crossed his arms. “No one will miss me. It is simply a good place for thinking.”
“Brooding. You said ‘brooding.’” She let some of her substance bleed away. It took too much energy and attention to stay solid while Morgan was awake. Not to mention she didn’t have to feel the cold this way. She tilted her head, trying to catch enough of a glimpse of his face to read his expression. “Do you miss her?”
“That is a strange question coming from…” He stopped, giving a harsh chuckle. “Am I so transparent?”
“No. I’m the transparent one.” She gave him a wry grin and let herself fade enough that her shadow melted away. Then she reformed again, giving herself enough substance so that she could reach out and touch his arm. “Lonely?”
“A little.” He shrugged. “They seem happy together. He had no patience with the debriefing, he was so eager to see her again.”
“Yeah.” Her tone must have held more of her frustration than she meant it to. He reached out to trace a finger along her cheek. The touch was soft and gentle and filled with a familiarity that hurt in it’s intimacy.
“Why are you here, liebchen? I did not think you strayed so far from your other self.”
“He wants her. Not me, Kurt. He’s the only one who sees me.” She reached up and caught the fingers before they could drop away. She held his hand to her face. “You treat me like her because you see her when you look at me. He doesn’t.”
“I don’t understand.” His voice held the confusion she felt, but his fingers were warm against her cheek, solid in her hand. It felt good to touch and be touched. The girls no longer needed her so much and she found that she missed it.
“Dance with me, Kurt?” She stepped away, pulling his hand with her.
“Here? There is no music.” He followed her, despite his protest. And when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his, he held her. They swayed back and forth in aimless circles for a time. There were no words, no sounds but the gentle sighing of the wind and the scuffing of their feet across the bare wood. He was warm and solid, their bodies moving smoothly together in the darkness. Of course, hers was made of will and wishes, so what did it mean, really?
“See? We don’t need any music.” She sighed and lifted her face to his. A borrowed memory flickered through her thoughts. Of a kiss offered and rejected. But this one was not. His lips met hers, soft and unhurried. She sighed and clung a little tighter to him as her hold on solidity began to falter, the tether that bound her to Morgan pulling her back. A taste spread across her tongue, tiny bubbles dancing in her mouth.
“Champagne?” His startled question faded with the cupola and it’s starlit shadows. She was back, once more a passive passenger in Morgan’s body. It was Morgan who was sipping champagne while her friends crowded around in a haphazard circle.
“To good friends.” Warren raised a sparkling glass, half filled with liquid. His free arm was about Jehnna’s shoulders while her arm was wrapped around his waist beneath his wings. There was a round of good-natured responses.
“To lovers.” Roxxy offered, her amber eyes sliding upwards to meet the doctor’s in sly challenge.
“To good lovers.” Remy’s voice drawled, his voice vibrating through his chest. Morgan gave him a playful push and laughed. Faye could feel the warmth of the blush staining her cheeks.
“To soundproofing.” Haley snorted and raised her own glass. The big Russian beside her shook his head, but raised his glass all the same.
“To beer, cause this shit ain’t good for much.” Dare smirked. Logan snorted and took the glass from her, draining it in one swallow. “Hey!”
“Yer too young ta be drinking anyway.” He growled but he winked at her. He raised the empty glass. “To cold nights and snuggling up with a pretty girl.”
Maybe the champagne was a bit more potent than Dare thought, considering how flushed she looked. Faye smiled inwardly, momentarily distracted.
“Oui. De only good ‘ting about a night dis cold is having someone to warm you bones.” Morgan’s reactions were just a little slow, dulled by the effects of the champagne. Remy’s were not, however. Before the girl could react, he’d taken her glass from her, setting both her glass and his aside and pulling her against him for a kiss that sent heat flooding from her head to her toes.
“I think, on that note, it is time we adjourned.” Henry’s voice was full of tolerant humor.
Faye agreed wholeheartedly and when the blue-furred mutant put his arm around Roxxy to lead her from the room, she followed. Later she would savor the memories, but for now, the heat between her host and her lover burned too hot for comfort. She trailed Roxxy and Henry as they made their way through empty halls. They were completely unaware of their invisible watcher. That was clear in the way they touched each other. A brush of the hand, a rub of a shoulder, a kiss stolen at the top of the staircase.
She lingered to watch a few moments longer, fascinated by the carefully thorough way the Beast kissed her friend. Roxxy’s response was a low growl that seemed to thrum in the air. The kiss over, the pair moved on, their pace quickened. Faye let them go on without her. She turned her attention elsewhere.
She let herself drift for a while, slipping unseen through the silent hallways. Most of the students were asleep. Threads of vision still lingered in her mind, leaving her uneasy. Her wanderings took her from the dormitories into the wing reserved for the X-Men. Silent and insubstantial as a ghost, she slipped from room to room, finding each pair of lovers.
Here, Jehnna smiled shyly as she modeled the black silk chemise that she wore beneath the kimono. “Do you like it? I almost didn’t get it.”
“I’m glad you did. I like it.”
Warren’s smile was gentle and appreciative as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss. He was already bare to the waist and his wings rustled softly, spreading about them in a halo of whiteness. His wings gleamed softly in the light of a single lamp. The sight of his feathers reminded her again of the vision and she moved on. If she could not make sense of it, she preferred not to dwell on it.
She paused outside Logan’s door, but did not go in. Not now. Not yet. She turned her path and her mind from the pair for the moment. Dare could be no safer than she was with him at this moment. She caught the sound of familiar laughter from further down the corridor and let it draw her there.
“So I take it you’ve changed your mind?” Haley’s voice was playful and teasing. She was leaning against the doorjamb of Piotr’s room, blocking the doorway.
“You have good friends.” He shrugged. “Some of them dance very well.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She swatted the large man playfully on the arm. “You like them.”
“I think this is one of those questions that no man can answer correctly.” He rubbed his arm as if it stung. “So I will say that I do not dislike them.”
“Oh. You!” Haley reached behind her to open the door. As the door swung wide, she grabbed a double handful of his shirt and pulled him in after her. “Admit it, you had fun dancing with my friends.”
“I did…” The door shut, closing their conversation behind it. Faye considered following them, her curiosity aroused by this more playful side of the usually stoic Russian. But no, she did not truly feel all that playful.
Indecision caused her to waver, losing for a moment her grip on separateness. Then there was a searing flash of shared awareness. Of a mouth feeding hungrily at hers, fingers gliding along her bare skin, a body lean and muscled next to hers. Her own body was already on fire with need for him, his touch, his body, and that other, less tangible touch of his mind against hers.
No. Not hers. Morgan’s. She tore herself away before her host could sense the intrusion. With other lovers, Morgan hadn’t cared one way or the other. Sometimes she’d even offered to share. But with Remy – her feelings were still raw and new and Faye never knew which side they would fall on. Best to keep her distance.
It was hard to say how much of the night passed while she slowly drew the shreds of self back together. She took her time, the experience leaving her feeling battered and not a little out of sorts. Random sensations and images trickled through the link she shared with the girl. Faye pushed them away one by one until she was once again herself and alone in the corridor.
This time when her wandering drew her to Logan’s door, she slipped through it. He’d left the drapes open wide to the night and the room was bathed in soft starlight. She watched them sleep for a moment. Logan lay on his back, one arm beneath Dare’s head. The other hand rested loosely on his stomach pinning the tangled blankets there. Dare was curled around him, her face looking young and peaceful as she slept. A delicate mental touch proved that her sleeping thoughts matched the expression. There would be no nightmares tonight. No bad dreams to be soothed away.
And if there were, Logan would be there. Faye sighed, the sound audible enough that the man stirred in his sleep. He turned his head toward Dare and drew his arms around her protectively. No. She wasn’t needed here.
She let her tether draw her back to her host. Morgan’s mind was still, sleeping the sleep of the truly sated. She found the girl curled up with Remy beneath a thick layer of blankets. The covers were pulled up so high that only Morgan’s head was visible, resting on Remy’s shoulder. His hair was spread loose and tangled across the pillow. The drapes here were closed, but there was a nightlight in the bathroom that shed a cool bluish light.
She lingered, watching them. Or, if she were honest, watching him. There was space enough on the other side of him that she could have climbed beneath the covers. She considered it, wondering how he would respond. Would he wake? Would he welcome her? Or would it be so awkward it caused another fight? Should she just allow herself to be drawn into Morgan’s slumber and let the night pass that way?
No. Not tonight. Not with amorphous visions plaguing her thoughts. They might bleed over into Morgan’s dreams. Or Remy might wake and she would have to decide again whether to remain or flee.
Coward, she called herself. But she left them. This night was theirs. Another night she would brave the confusion and emotional firing zone. She drifted off, a solitary presence.
Alone. So much of what she was and did was shared or borrowed or in some way tangled up with the girls. Loneliness drew her to another door. A room that held only one mind and body. The room was dim, the blinds half drawn so that the shadows were deep. She could hear the soft sounds of breathing and the rustle of sheets as the sleeper shifted restlessly.
She approached the bed and sat down on it. She reformed slowly, clothing herself in a dorm shirt. The green cotton was so faded it was nearly white in the gloom and the fabric was soft and worn from countless washings. Even this close, the bed’s occupant was just a dark shadow amongst the lighter sheets. She leaned closer, reaching out to touch one arm where it lay limp on the bed. He started at her touch, golden eyes blinking at her sudden appearance.
“Was? Morgan?”
“No.” The eyes blinked again and he shifted beneath the blankets, turning toward her. “Is that OK?”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes blinked again. “Ja.”
He moved again and lifted the blankets in a silent invitation. It was her turn to blink. But she wasted no time slipping beneath the covers. She rolled onto her side, her back to his warmth, her face turned toward the windows. He waited quietly for her to settle herself.
When she stopped moving, he slowly curled up around her, his motions cautious as if he were waiting for her to vanish or protest. She didn’t and when he was spooned up against her back, his arm slung around her waist, he relaxed with a sigh against her hair. She listened to his breathing slow, letting her thoughts drift.
“Do you sleep?” She thought him already asleep when he spoke, a sleepy murmur in the dark.
“Sometimes.” She snuggled a little deeper into his body and sighed. The arm around her waist squeezed gently. He was silent for so long this time that she was on the very edge of sleep.
“Do you dream?”
“Always.”
Tags:
- author: ginevrasm,
- character: dare scott,
- character: faye lefavre,
- character: haley stone,
- character: hank mccoy,
- character: jehnna d'abo,
- character: kurt wagner,
- character: logan/james howlett,
- character: morgan lafavre,
- character: piotr rasputin,
- character: remy lebeau,
- character: roxxy stewart,
- universe: marvel,
- warren worthington iiit
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-16 12:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-16 01:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-16 02:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-16 07:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-16 09:11 pm (UTC)Part of the hold-up with this chapter was trying to decide how to play the scene with the vision. I've been avoiding using Faye's POV for several reasons, but it didn't feel right trying to do it from Kurt's POV. After talking it over with LDF, I finally quit dithering and just did it. LOL.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-18 06:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-27 11:40 pm (UTC)I'm also enjoying the resurgence of pictures. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-28 02:06 am (UTC)The pictures are fun, but very time consuming. Not because I'm doing anything all that complicated, but because my computer lags badly when I load up my "sets". It takes forever to set up a simple shot. I do enjoy doing them when I have the time (and patience).
Thanks!