Feral Fangs & Adamantium Claws
A good friend is one who thinks you’re a good egg even if
you are half-cracked. ~ Author Unknown
I for one have seen many people come and go. Most of them are frightened of me, of my
feral fangs and pointy claws. But some
of them really never cease to amaze me with their kindness.
It was one of the first things I learned that truly mattered
in my life and I embarrassed to admit, but I learned from a girl, who in
comparison was an infant.
Chapter Two
It didn’t take her half as long as she thought it would, or
maybe she was just hoping it would have taken longer. Perhaps, she just wanted a long and lengthy
brood on the way to Marie’s. She had
already stopped in town for coffee and the best bagels this side of the Mason
Dixon. She had already suffered through
the extremely awkward half an hour with her latest puppy-faced stalker, Richie
when she had to wait for the bagels to rise.
It was probably a good idea that Guthries Bakery had such delectable
treats, and that she loved Marie so much, because Richie, was a lost
cause. The man-child managed to stare at
her modestly covered breasts for a straight fifteen minutes this morning – a
new personal record - before she threatened to castrate him. But as usual he just smiled dreamily and
gushed about how he added her extra salmon flavored cream cheese “free of charge”.
After that horrendous display Rose was almost convinced to
give up this ass-kissing thing and go straight back to bed, and she really
wished she had listened to her own instincts when she encountered her next
trial.
This trial came with a snooty name, a designer suit and more
exuberance than any man should have in the morning… or ever. Felix, was Marie’s intern at the gallery, and
the misery of Rosalie’s life. He was
damn good with sale, new his art and had lots of cushy cliental. But he was also loud, nosy and constantly on
her ass about her choice in fashion.
He was also very, very gay.
Now, Rose had never had a thing against someone’s sexual
orientation, she could give a shit less whether someone preferred to drive
stick over automatic, but Rose hated anyone that was that perky in the morning,
and was oblivious to her annoyance.
“Good Morning, Angel!”
He’d gush, clapping his hands like the President had just walked into
room. “You looking tired this morning,
honey, you feeling okay? Oh, I know just
the thing! My girlfriend Candy, Candy
with a K, not a C, well anyways just the other day she told me about this new
spa…
And that’s pretty much where she’d tune him out.
Dear Lord, Ah didn’
know it was possible fer anyone to talk that long without breathin’.
It really was a shame that he liked men; he’d been perfect
for Jubes, as it was those two were tighter at the hip than conjoined twins.
Leaving as quickly as possible, and through the back in
hopes of deflecting another gibbering tirade of cashmere and hair-care
products, Rose headed for a place she, at the moment, considered Hell.
Now she found herself standing like a statue, mouth gaping
in horror at the front of what was perhaps the gaudiest house on the block, but
considering who it belonged to, she figured she shouldn’t have been so
surprised. Whatever she had previously
thought before she laid eyes on the monstrosity before her was gone forever
now. The house was an exact replica of
‘Graceland’, which she also found funny as she noted the painting in her
hand.
Remy might be a bastard but he sure loved Marie.
Still, she didn’t wanna go in. It was going to be a direct hit to her pride,
but in the grand scheme of things she really didn’t have much of a choice and
she really doubted Marie would be the one to come to her first.
No. This was her
mistake. She had been the one to act
like a complete ass when Marie showed up after a dinner date with the
Swamp-rat, all flushed faced and smiling like she had found the answer to World
Peace.
Jubilee had called her insensitive later that night and she
had told the Firecracker to go choke on her yellow Gucci bag. In Rose’s mind, Jubilee was just as bad as
Remy for encouraging Marie to get married.
Ever since Marie bused through her door a month ago,
sporting a super-rock on her left fourth finger and caterwaulin’ like a dyin’
pig about decorating her new home, Marie and Jubilee had been thicker than
thieves.
Good fer them!
As for Rose? She was
pretty sure she threw up in her mouth a little and shortly after she made that
apparent she said some pretty shitty things that she very much regretted now;
hence the twelve thousand dollar original that dangled from under her arm. It was Marie’s favorite artist and Rose had
gotten a screamin’ deal at an estate sale.
Marie had eyed it from the very begging, but it’s not like she wouldn’t
have known better anyways. It was no
secret that Marie loved everything Elvis.
It being, an original Thomas Kinkaid painting that depicted ‘Graceland’
at Christmas and now it would adorn her mantel in her own Casa de Graceland.
But she figured if there was anything that would guarantee
her a get out of jail free card, it was this.
She would suck it up, at least pretend to be happy for them and then, if
a time should arise for that dipshit with the pansy accent to make her cry, she
would neuter him good an’ proper.
For Marie, Rose would do anything.
She wasn’t a naïve person, she knew that most people didn’t
like her much, or not at all in a lot of cases.
Either out of fear or jealously, she just wasn’t accepted in either the
mutant or human community.
Shit! Ah ain’t even a mutant, and ah sure as Hell
ain’t no human!
If her name and breeding weren’t bad enough – not that
anyone really knew that – she was all the more spiteful of strange red hair and
pointed ears. Or perhaps having eyes
that belonged on an animal instead of the young woman she appeared to be. She mused briefly that she could wear glasses
in public like Remy, but they dulled her sensitive eyes and made her tetchy.
Either way, she was used to it and had joked many times that
‘she had been the poster child for treat me like a freak’ since she was born.
All that being said: losing a friend, even if it is just
one, was one friend too many.
So there she stood, still gaping at Marie’s house while she
remained still as a statue on the corner of Coward Street and Stubborn Avenue,
too scared to press a little plastic button she knew was connected to the
doorbell.
Her breakfast was going cold and she was practically
salivating for the fresh salmon she knew Marie always bought, and usually for
her. It didn’t matter that Marie was
pissed at her; Marie was too kind not to be prepared.
Alright, she told
herself with a growl. Time to get it together.
Steeling her nerves she began to plan. She was gonna go in there like the grown-ass
woman she was and make nice with the Swamp-rat.
Then she was gonna go home, preparing for the ‘infestation’ problem that
would be occurring this afternoon, and be done with it all in time to watch the
Saint’s kick some major ass on her brand new pristine 85' inch projection
screen Pete had set up as an early Christmas present.
With a heavy sigh, she reminded herself about the other
issue she had on her plate today and thought perhaps it might not be as easy as
all that. And as an afterthought she
really wished for Cassidy’s presence once again.
She wasn’t so sure she could handle all of her new guests
and Jubilee all at the same time. She
felt like hangin’ herself in the oven, if you know what I mean?
“Oh…God,” she
groaned. She was not ready for another
student from Xavier’s; they were always so… so precocious when they first
arrived, and supercilious too.
The fabulous idea of a new roommate wasn’t even hers. No, that marvelous idea came from Marie
whilst she was so lovingly packing her shit, and trying to get her to see the
bright side of things. “You can make a new friend,” Marie had
said. Yeah, like she really wanted
one. Needless to say Rose spent the
remainder of that evening down at the local pup, sulking into a glass of neatly
made whiskey.
The candidate for said roommate was a female mutant that
both Marie and Jubilee knew from their days at the school for gifted
youngsters. But to Rose this only meant
one thing, that this girl was probably another one of Xavier’s little angels
that needed to get out and experience life.
Despite any protest Rosalie could have made, Marie went
ahead and made the arrangements. Rose
wanted to end her on the spot.
Marie was practically vibrating with enthusiasm as she
explained what an incredibly sweet girl this newbie was, and what an absurdly
perfect family she hailed from.
Good, Rose snarked
to herself, Let her go back to them. She could care less.
Of course Marie had said all of this loud enough for Jubes
to overhear and there are not words to express the squeal of delight Jubilee
let loose as she came practically splintering through her bedroom door, gushing
about how much she had missed her friend.
Apparently, Miss Katherine Pryde was another fashionista
after Jubilee’s own heart, or that’s what Rose gathered from the hour long
spiel about trips into D.C. and needing a new hobo, whatever the hell that
was.
If this was indeed the case, Rosalie would be more than will
to kiss the ground Kitty Pryde walked on.
If there ever was a godsend, it would be for Jubilee to have a shopin’
partner that didn’t include herself.
Katherine had sounded nice enough over the phone the first
few times she had actually managed to wrangle the phone away from Jubilee long
enough to get a word in, but she was still the same cynical and skeptical woman
she’d always been and still had her doubts.
Not to mention the thought of meeting one new person was
enough to make her cringe, but this girl was bringing baggage with her, a lot
of it. Another mutant that goes by the
name of Pyro was joining the ranks of misfits in the area and was moving into a
house just down the street. He had been
one of Magneto’s pawns before he realized that he was nothing more than fodder,
but it was too late now to just up and rejoin the X-Men so Xavier sent him
here; with two very male watchdogs.
Yippy.
At least they weren’t staying with her, she mused, not sure
that she could handle any more of that do-gooder bullshit.
Hearing the concerned muttering of Remy and Marie’s
neighbors roused Rosalie enough from her inner rambling to notice the
fluttering curtains from every home on the culdesac , and that was enough to
get her ass in gear.
She realized then, with annoyance, that she had been
standing there, staring at the front door for a little over fifteen minutes and
she was sure all the neighbors were about to call the cops. They all knew what she was and didn’t really
need the petit blond with fake boobs to call her a ‘mutie bitch’ for her to
understand she wasn’t wanted there.
Heaving a great sigh, she put one foot in front of the other
and hesitantly pressed that little plastic square. Instantly, she wanting to break it as “Jail
House Rock” came chiming out in irritating gongs and pings.
“Fuckin’ Rouge.” She groaned. Well, one thing was for certain Remy and
Marie were in dork heaven together.
~
Rose found herself hard pressed to bite back the laughter
bubbling up her throat as she heard the Cajun groan. “Don’t
like that doorbell so much now, huh?
“Who da fuck be here at dis hour,” Remy grumbled, shuffling
his hand around under the pristine sheets of bedding, no doubt looking for his
soon-to-be bride. “Ol Remy, no wanna get
up.”
It was muffled, more than likely by the skin of said
soon-to-be bride, but she’d know that fucktard’s voice anywhere; even if he
didn’t speak in the third person.
She could hear Marie giggling and protesting to his
advances. Gag.
“Ah don’ know, you jackass.
Do you see x-ray goggles strapped to my face?” Marie retorted, and Rose could almost she
Remy’s brow shoot up in shock. Yeah, she
must have been pickin’ up a few things from the resident smartass; Cass.
“Why don’ de Cher bend over an’ take a look, non?” This of course is followed by a loud ‘thwack”
and Marie’s reprimand of “Remy, now’s not the time!” As he no doubt, tried to cop a feel.
Ah, Rouge’s future husband.
Cute, ain’t he?”
Ick.
But really, this is why Rose loved Marie so much; she was
just classy like that.
As more shuffling noises drift from the thick walls and
heavy curtains, Rose can tell it will be Marie who opens the door for her this morning, and hopefully
doesn’t slam it straight back into her deserving face.
“Hey, if it be dat bastard family o’ mine, tell ‘im to piss
off. Ce
Chein can go get ‘is coffee someplace else.”
She laughed hard; she really couldn’t help it. If there was a definition for annoying,
horny, asshole in the dictionary, well, Eitenne’s picture would be plastered to
the top as an example, complete with his own messy scrawl of a phone
number. It would read: desperate and
willing to please.
As annoying a flirt Rose thought Remy was when she first met
him, Eitenne was a hundred times worse.
As bad as Remy was, she still had a hard time believing Remy was related
to that abomination of the male species… he was just that bad.
A muttered, “Asshole,” quickly follows as her footsteps
retreat from the upper levels of the LeBeau mansion and seemed to be fumbling
their way to the front door.
It didn’t take long for her bright eyed and overly chipper
friend to yank open the front door, wearing nothing more than a scrap of a
negligee and some underwear Rose didn’t think would even pass as glorified
dental floss.
“Rose, what are ya doin’ here, hun?” Marie asked wide eyed and completely stunned;
like she honestly couldn’t believe she was standing there.
Rose was at a loss for words. What could she really say to her? Ah’m a
bitch an’ Ah’ was wrong? Marie already knew all that. So she remained
silent, her head hung in shame as she presented her a cold breakfast like a
white flag of surrender and the painting in her hand as penance.
Marie sighed, long and hard, and for a moment Rose thought
Marie just might slam that door in her face after all. It would be no more than she deserved, after
the way she had acted.
“Well,” she snapped finally, throwing a feisty hand on her
hip with a mother’s scowl. “Don’t just
stand there freezin’ t’ death like the hick idiot ya are. Come inside.”
“Alright, Teddy-Bear,” Rose said in defiance, quipping just
as quickly as she held out the painting for Marie’s eyes to behold.
Marie sucked in an excited breath as she heard the catch
phrase. Her eyes going wide as they fell
to the uncovered painting, and an unnatural squeal forcing its way out of her
mouth.
“Remy!” Marie yelled
up the staircase. “You’re neva gonna
believe who’s here with my early Christmas present!”
“If it be Santa,” Remy yelled with chuckle, “Ya gonna have t’ club ‘im, Cher, Remy ain’t
got no pants on.”
Both girls laughed at that.
Shaking her head in amusement, Rose could help but think, same ol’ idiot, all the while praying
that he never changed.
~
The morning was spent casually between friends doing nothing
more than hem hawing over coffee and hanging Marie’s new painting over the
fireplace in her formal living room.
“You know you’re next in line, right?” Marie teased, raising a brow in a speculative
manner as if daring her to deny it.
Though her teasing was only partly in jest, she really did have a
hopeful outlook that her friend would finally find someone and become as happy
as her and Remy.
Rose didn’t say much for the first few minutes, looking on
blankly, never even blinking and it made Marie feel guilty.
Marie knew Rose would never say anything because that was
the kind of woman she was, never one to show weakness if she could help
it. But Marie knew better, Rose needed
someone in her life; someone to care for her in ways she refused to care for
herself. It was written plainly before
Marie’s face as they finally settled together at the breakfast bar and Rose
commented on Marie’s engagement ring.
“It’s beautiful,” she had commented, but as usual her eyes
were sad and distant; that faraway look of resentment and sorrow fix firmly on
her heavy brow. Then she’d change the
subject. This also was a constant.
It might have been a bit of a stretch, but Marie was
convinced that Rose’s anger over Remy proposing stemmed for intense
loneliness. She wouldn’t say Rose was
jealous; Rose had already done that for herself, but it was very hard not to
want to shake the hell out of her and ask ‘why?”. Marie knew it had nothing to do with Remy,
not really. There was no undercurrent of
sexual want between them, and if Rose had wanted him she could have had him
long ago, but she didn’t.
Hell, most of the time Rose just hurled brightly colored
insults at him and then they’d go drinking.
They were friends and nothing more, so that wasn’t it.
Whatever had crawled up Rosalie’s ass went deeper than petty
jealousy, though she could see that there too.
It was as if the woman was torn between protecting her from getting hurt
and not wanting to stick around for the pain of having to watch something you
wanted for yourself flung in her face, and it killed Marie to see her friend in
so much pain.
Rosalie had been such a sassy and strong presence in her
life since first meeting her, but even as young as Marie was in comparison, she
could see the intense sort of sorrow lurking behind that saucy façade.
It was hard to know what to do in a situation
like this. Rose was a quiet person, or
quiet about her own life anyways. Marie
didn’t even have a clue as to what the woman’s life was like before she had met
Remy and Cass, except for the small comments that she let slip about her time
with the Summer’s
family. Marie was
confident that everyone in their small, vagabond family had asked her at least
once before, but like always, Rosalie refused to talk about it.
They all knew some things about the woman for certain. They knew something traumatic had happened to
her, and that it was greatly possible that she had lost someone she cared
about; perhaps even the man that she loved.
But she wouldn’t talk about that either.
Remy, who had spent more time with her than anyone hazard
that with Rosalie’s mutation being of a feral nature, that maybe the ‘someone’
she had lost was someone she considered her mate; and like some animals when
they lose their mates, they never take another.
This was all speculation, of course, but someone in the pit
of Marie’s stomach, she knew it to be true.
A shriek of laughter had Marie all but jumping out of her
skin as her companion through back her head of fire opal curls and laughed like
she had finally cracked. It took the
woman several minutes to calm herself but when she did, she smiled amusedly and
went about eating her breakfast as if nothing had happened.
“What?” Marie found
herself asking, giddiness assaulting her now from the infection of her friend’s
candid laughter.
“It’s not possible,” her friend crowed around a mouth full
of cream-cheese bagel and raw tuna.
Ick.
“What?” She asked
again, entirely confused but no less intrigued.
“Me being next in line, it ain’t possible.” She said by way of explanation. “Ah ain’t even datin’ anyone!”
And Rosalie truly meant this too, Marie mused. She might not have the feral sense of smell
like Rose and Logan but she could tell she wasn’t lying about this; she truly
believes that she will die alone and sometimes Marie believed she had already
resigned herself to that fate. That was
why Remy’s guess seemed so exacted to her.
If the shoe fits, wear it.
As if she had heard Marie’s private thoughts, Rose cocked
her head to the side, her eyes and nose scrunching up on her delicate
face. Then with a sarcastic grin and a
mocking impersonation of Remy, she asked, “Are ya feelin’ alright, Cher? ‘Cause
that’s gotta be the most bat-shit crazy mess to evea come outta yer
mouth.” And if all the mocking and
biting wasn’t enough for Marie, the little naysayer laid a hand on her forehead
like she was checking her for scarlet fever, giggling all the while.
Yeah, keep on gigglin’
sugha! Marie thought with a scowl,
but Rose wasn’t finished yet.
“Plus,” she added, stuffing the remainder of her bagel into
her mouth in one bite. “If Ah was a
bettin’ woman, and I am.” She boasted
proudly, pausing dramatically for affect while swallowing.
Marie just shook her head because she knew what was coming
next.
“Ah believe my Jubilation will be rollin’ down the aisle
long before me.”
Marie sniggered a little because while she believed the
statement to be entirely untrue – or at least she hoped it was – she still
found Rose’s knack for humorous skepticism hilarious.
She frowned at Marie then, or perhaps it was more to
herself, and that sadness that rolled through those deep orchard eyes was
enough to nearly break Marie’s heart. It
made her seemed aged, closer to the 182 years Marie knew her to actually be
instead of the fresh looking woman that sat before her.
“That’ll suck,” she commented in nothing more than a
whisper.
It was nothing more than a murmur to Marie but she was
fairly certain she had heard her right.
“What’ll suck sugah?”
“That… I’ll be all alone again.”
The way she said it almost frightened Marie in its
intensity. It was strong and powerful
but yet Rosalie had almost been in some sort of a trance as she spoke. It was eerily similar to being around Logan
when bits of his past come back to haunt him and it made Marie wonder if she
was thinking of him; the man she had lost.
Oh, Rosie, what
happened to you?
Ever since Xavier had set Marie on this woman’s path, and
even with how close of friends they had become, Rosalie had never uttered a
single word about the mysterious man who must have stolen her heart and
undoubtedly broken it somehow.
Marie thought maybe Rosalie had been jilted to some extreme
measure, but highly doubted that was the case.
None of their friends did, either.
Not Pete, not Jubes, not Remy or Cass, none of them really believed Rose
could be so torn-up over something like a scorned heart; she was too strong for
that.
And the sadness they had all felt from her at one point or
another was not the pain of a disparaged heart, but more like the irrevocable
pain of completely broken heart; it was like she mourned for someone. The deep haunting pain behind those eyes
caused Marie to shutter uncontrollably as she searched her mind for
answers.
What on earth could make
someone so tragically sad?
The answer was as clear and strong as a warm summer
morning. She thought about how she would
feel if something ever happened to Remy, and then taking advice from the Logan
inside herself she multiplied that to the thousandth power; as a feral would
love. And nearly fell of her chair.
It was all consuming; the despair, the rage, the hurt and
the longing. Marie wanted to fold in on herself
and never return, but she pushed the emotions away. They were not her own and Remy was alive and
well, but the damage was done, she had gotten her wish and now she knew exactly
how Rose might feel. It was staggering.
Just as quick as the mournful wave of emotions had hit Rose,
it passed. She popped up then, like a
jack-in-the-box, eyes wild and frantic.
“Ah’m gonna end up the fuckin’ cat
lady!”
Marie just looked at Rose in shock, her mouth slightly agape
and her eyes wide. Sudden vicious
laughter bubbled from her chest and up her throat before she could stop
it. She didn’t know if Rose was joking
or not when she said she’d end up the cat lady, but seeing as her mutation ran
along the lines of a feral feline, Marie just couldn’t help herself and she
laughed until her stomach hurt. But how
could you not, her friend was truly hopeless.
Sometimes Marie just couldn’t get over her strange
friend. Rose was loud, crass and didn’t
bother to close her mouth when she chewed.
She liked to drink, smoke, fuck and fight; and Marie had it on good
authority that she had a wide array of vibrators at her service for such
occasions. She had the saucy southern
sass of a girl from the hills of Tennessee and she hated wearing – well
anything – but underwear more than anything else.
Baring the southern accent and the stench of cheap cigars,
Rose oddly enough reminded Marie of Logan and she had mused more than once that
it must be a feral thing. Victor was
much the same way, if she remembered correctly.
But one thing was for sure, Rose was about the furthest thing you could
get from a homespun southern belle.
But Marie also knew that even as Rose worked herself through
the good whiskey, the best smokes, fought the best fights and used the best
vibrators to slake her lust, Rose was still unhappy. Sure, Rose might get through her day to day
with a smile, but Marie knew better.
Rose was simply good at hiding and seeing as Marie has had her very own
feral best friend since she was sixteen, it made perfect sense to her that Rose
didn’t want to let her guard down, that she didn’t want her friends to see her
pain.
Marie was far from a fool, she’d heard the screamin’ and the
nightmares, and she’s heard Rose calling out for ‘Jimmy’ in her sleep, pleading
with him to come back home; they all had.
But pain is viewed as little more than a weakness in the animal kingdom
and Rose had already learned that lesson firsthand and how dangerous it is when
you show someone your weakness.
And just like Logan, Rose was always easily agitated after a
night of terrifying wails in the dark and Marie learned after a time, just as the
others had, to just leave her be when she was like that. Cassidy was the only one who could really be
around Rose on those days, he was the only one who seemed to understand her and
Marie firmly believed that Cass knew more about Rose’s past than he let on to
anyone else.
Marie had found that out for herself one night when she,
admittedly eavesdropped on them once. It
was a rare night when Rose and Cass had gotten drunker than skunks, so drunk in
fact that they had no clue she was even there.
Rose had cried a lot that night, cried for the sexual assault that they
all knew about but were too terrified of her temper to bring it up, and she
cried again for him. Her Jimmy, whoever
he was.
Marie didn’t come out completely unscathed from the incident
entirely, for Cassidy came to her the next morning, or should she say ‘came at
her’, all but threatening to tear her head off should she breathe a word about
what she had heard, either to Rose or anyone else. Apparently he wasn’t too drunk to sense her
presence, but simply didn’t want to upset Rose by letting on that Marie was
there.
Of course she swore to the Lord Almighty never to speak of
the rape or anything else she had heard, and for the most part she kept her
promise and never said a word. That was
until Remy approached her, having himself gotten wind of Cassidy’s attack on
her.
What shocked Marie more than anything was that Remy already
knew… He had been present in the weeks
that Rose went missing.
So, to keep Marie from Cassidy’s wrath, Remy told her Rose’s
story and after Marie didn’t know if she’d ever look at the woman the same way
again.
It was difficult to think of Rose that way, to think of her
as anything but the resilient, hero-type figure she had always been to
Marie. But she guessed that even the
strongest of characters had a breaking point and Marie couldn’t fathom anyone
surviving such an ordeal.
According to Remy, Rose had left one night in early summer
to meet with ‘an old friend’ she hadn’t seen in years, only she didn’t
return. This happened years ago, mind
you, and yet Marie could see the man practically trembling throughout the
entire conversation; like he was actually reliving the events as he told
them. She went missing for weeks and even
with the help of the local police, and the expertise of Charles Xavier, Rose
seemed to have disappeared without a trace.
She wasn’t found until nearly a month later and when she
was, Rose was never the same. She had
been found shacked to the floor of an old warehouse in D.C.; nearly beaten to
death, starved and naked.
Remy explained that he didn’t think the police would have
even bothered to notify them at all if they had been able to handle her, but as
it was, they were out of their depth in dealing with a caged feral who could
withstand human sedatives. So they
called on Charles Xavier who in turned called Cassidy.
It was a sad story, and frankly one that still gave Marie
nightmares as she imagined what Rose must have gone through, and of course how
she would have handled the repercussions of that aftermath. Rose was a changed woman, a skittish feral
with superhuman strength and a flashy temper.
At least now Marie understood why Rose forbids anyone to
wake her from her nightmares; fourteen people dead and all because Rose felt
threatened. Remy adamantly believed that
she was taunted; that someone purposefully triggered her memory of the horrific
event, that it might have been their plan all along.
Remy was always one suspicious of government conspiracies,
but Marie figured she would be too if she had been the one held in a lab for
two years.
Rose never told anyone who did it, or if she did Remy
wouldn’t say. They only thing he did
tell Marie about that despicable person, was that Rose knew him. Or was it them? Marie still wasn’t clear on all the
specifics.
Either way, it was a lot of weight for one person to shoulder
alone, and yet that was exactly what her friend did, every night of her
life.
Marie had been pissed off at Cassidy for several weeks after
being told of what really happened to Rose before she finally sought him out. It hurt that he truly seemed to think that
she was capable of hurting Rose by running her mouth and was more than a little
determined to let him know exactly how she felt. After a slap to the face and a few choice
words, Marie was certain that Cass was convinced that she’d never tell another
living soul.
Not that Marie would have told anybody anyways, and it had
nothing to do with Cassidy going all alpha dog and threatening her. She honestly loved Rose like a sister. The woman had done so much for Marie, not
only by giving her a home and acceptance for the choices she’d made, but she
also had brought her to Remy.
Marie had been having a difficult time dealing with the
pressures of the mansion after she had taken the cure. Bobby had left her for Kitty, and even though
she knew it was only a matter of time before their relationship ended, it still
hurt.
Things were awkward and shaken after the revelation at
Alkali Lake. Scott was well… misplaced;
he thought his wife had died and then one day she just magically showed up at
the front door, looking like a lost puppy, but alive all the same.
Soon after that Jean started acting strangely, predatory
even and that threw Logan for a loop and then, he too was acting… off.
All in all, it was a bit too much for Marie to handle and
she was planning to run.
That was how Xavier found her; a mass of wadded-up clothing
and tears streaming down her face. He
told her that he knew what she was planning to do, and while he’d hoped she
would reconsider staying on at the mansion he was there to offer her another
way. That was how she learned about
Rose, ‘an acquaintance of Scott’s’, he had said. Xavier even went so far as telling her that
the woman was sort-of an older-sister of Scott’s, but the point was that she –
on occasion – opened her doors to the gifted that simply didn’t feel that their
lives were destined as X-Men.
Marie jumped at the chance, leaving the school behind
without a backwards glance and ended up in a little one Sheriff town called
Blithe.
Of course less than a year later, the cure was determined a
failure and Marie was once again left with poisonous skin, but even then Rose
helped her. They toiled ruthlessly for
months as they strived for Marie’s control and in the end they were met with
success. Now, Marie felt more comfortable
in her own skin than ever she had.
Rose had done that for her.
Giving her hope when there was none, giving her a home and the family
she always wanted, even if it was dysfunctional. The woman before her had done all that and
more; Marie would never betray her.
Marie watched her friend in silent contemplation for most of
the morning, entertained that Rose could amuse herself so easily.
As long as ya have
ESPN, she though dryly.
Sometimes it was a challenge reminding herself that the
brash woman sitting at her breakfast nook had any correlation with the gentle
Scott Summers; team leader and teacher extraordinaire. What could they possibly have in common? Scott was a quiet and reserved man, who
rarely spoke out of turn and hardly ever raised his voice in anger. To cut to the chase: the man was nothing like
his supposed half-sister, or sort-of sister.
Whatever.
Rose was his complete opposite. She was loud, opinionated and brutally
honest.
That in turn led Marie back to where her thought process
began: finding someone for Rose.
It was baffling to her; the lack of male bodies willing to
give Rose their all. Sure, Rose had her
shortcoming, in fact she had a lot of them, but still, Marie was under the
impression that men generally like that in a woman. That they were drawn to the strong,
unattainable types and it was no secret to anyone that Rose was a beautiful
woman.
Petit in her build but she definitely wasn’t lacking for
curves, and sure her hair was a little on the outlandish side – it being the
color of a fire truck – but it wasn’t that
radical. Her eyes might seem frightening
to most but Marie thought they were the most interesting shade she had ever
seen, besides Remy’s. They were the color of gold; kinda like Logan’s when he
let his hold slip on the Wolverine.
Lot of good it did her friend though. Rose couldn’t manage a phone number in this
town, let alone a date. Sure she could
find plenty of men offering to give her the ‘ride of her life’ but that usually
ended in bloodshed, if not by Rose’s own hand then it was Pete, Remy or Cass
doin’ the slaughterin’.
Marie had just sat down with a fresh cup of coffee when Rose
rekindled their earlier conversation – or grumbling – about everyone marrying
off and her being alone.
“Ah’m tellin’ ya, next Jubilee’s gonna come home hitched and
my ass is gonna be left in the cold to rot with Cass and Pete! Ah’ll have a dozen cats and Cass n’ Pete will
be off whorin’ themselves out at the local nursin’ home!”
Somewhere in the back of Marie’s mind she cursed Remy. How could he leave her like this? He was probably sitting in the next room
listening to Rose rant and laughing his ass off at my discomfort. The bastard knew he could waltz in, say
something stupid and have her distracted in no time.
“Well, ya know, Chere, Eitenne could warm dat beautiful ass
o’ yours anytime ya want.”
