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UXM #350 Aftermath

Stories by Kitty

"The Rose"
Listening to a song forces Rogue to face her inner demons.


I decided to write a half depressing fic. I was kind of in this sad mood and so if it's messed up don't blame me. The timeline is somewhere between Antarctica and when Remy came back. Don't ask for anything more specific 'cuse I don't know myself. Comments are welcome, flames are sent back to sender so you can look at it and think how (if I sent this to you) you would feel. PS the main character is Rogue
DISCLAIMER: This is a test. If you actually read this junk then you need help. Since I don't want to get sued I'll say, "The Xmen are Marvels. "The Rose" belongs to Bette Midler." Ok I said it.

"Some say love it is a river that drowns the tender reed."

Someone has left the stereo on again. I think it must have been Jean, no one else listens to music like what's on now. Music that wrenches my heart from deep beneath the ice I've placed over it. She doesn't mean it, I know. But it still tears my heart from places I've tried so hard to hide it in.

"Some say love it is a razor that leaves our soul to bleed"

Won't someone turn off the music? It hurts so much, just to think about him. My mind has banished my heart from its domain, so that I may think without misery running my life. I feel the warm caress of tears running down my cheek. The only caress I can feel, without shame. I do feel as if a razor has slashed my soul. Maybe it was my own razor or his. Whosoever it was it has left me trailing blood every move I make, every step I take I must force myself to go on. It hurts, oh how it hurts. Especially in those dark hours at night when even the most unworthy of creatures are allowed a moment of peace.

"Some say love it is a hunger an endless aching need"

I want to cover my ears. I know that if I do though, the song will still haunt me. My need for love, for him, will never go away. I want to caress him so badly, I want...... What does it matter what I want I'll never get it.

"I say love it is a flower and you its only seed"

I could leave the room. I silently threaten the music to leave. I want it to stop bringing up memories long forgotten. Stop shoveling for my long ignored passion. Why won't it stop? Every note of music sends a shudder through me. Why would someone write a song that makes every string in my heart and soul ring in harmony? Every word seems to be sung in his voice. Please stop, I beg.

"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance"

I danced! I silently shout. I danced! And all I thought was true was taken away! The music ignores my silent shouts. It keeps playing and each moment wakes more and more of me. My sensible mind tells me that if it brings me so much pain I should turn the music off. I can't. My soul and heart are using this to wake me to unshell my other emotions from icy cold.

"It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance"

A dream, I think to myself, a dream that's all it ever was, I took the chance and now am paying the consequences. My heart and soul fight back refusing the ice I try to bury them with. I am to tired to try very hard to bury this tidal wave of emotion. This song, this retched song has woken what I have strived to bury. Yet I can not hate it. The emotion has laid in dormant to long.

"It's the one who won't be taken who can not seem to give"

How much do I have to give to fit your need? I angrily ask the song. I gave my heart, I gave emotions I shouldn't have let loose. Emotions that should be locked up, not given away. It hurts to think about how much pain I could have been spared. Firmly my heart tells me to not listen to the voice of 'what if'. I am beginning to feel like my mind, body, soul and heart are each different people. My mind and heart being the most outspoken ones.

"And the soul afraid of dyin' that never learns to live"

I am overwhelmed by the memories of times when I did live. When most of my emotions weren't wrapped in ice. Memories of him, of who I thought he was, or maybe who he was. I feel a burning inside me, the emotions have grown. They have turned into a hurricane, each demanding attention first. The tears roll freely down my face, in some way my body is trying to soothe the hurricane. It can not see that this is like telling a wolf to sit, like a puppy.

"When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long"

The night has gotten lonely every day I've been without him. Yet I know my road still has a long way to go before we are joined again. My nights are covered in a darkness without stars. My nighttime stars dimmed each day until they faded altogether. My feet are tired of walking, long ago my shoes have worn away. Now I must keep walking barefoot, in a starless night.

"And you think that love is lonely for the lucky and the strong"

I know it is. The hurricane has turned into a tropical storm. It still wreaks havoc but I can no longer feel the damage. If love were for the unlucky it would stretch beyond ages, so that everyone was sure that through loss and gain love would always be there for them. If lover were for weaklings then it would be their strength, always supporting them. But it isn't for either. Maybe it is, for some unlucky and some weaklings have felt true love and held it. I don't know any more.

"Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose"

Maybe my spring will come again. I hope so.


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