xmutanthigh | [closed log] Breakdown amongst the Books

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[closed log] Breakdown amongst the Books

Characters: Rogue, Julian
Setting: The library
Content: Julian's the hugmaster of the week and Rogue's crazy is starting to show ~~and Bria can't write a serious summary to save her life.~~
Status: Complete
Notes: Pretend that this is actually taking place tomorrowish. Why? Because Crystal and I have no patience and it's about 40 minutes away from being tomorrow in my time.

These training sessions with Logan weren't getting any easier. Her head was in a constant state of pain and the psyches refused to be silent and her body was definitely starting to feel the effects of taking an hour long beating from the Wolverine. She'd finally started to get some control over the psyches' powers but the effects were draining and her attempts to use them earlier had been less than stellar. It was all she could do not to just scream. She could barely focus enough to shower and change into clean clothes.

Today was just not one of the better days. 'Bad' would probably be a more adept descriptor.

She found herself wandering into the library; a room that was almost always deserted at this time of day. She'd just set down her books on one of the corner tables when the Bobby psyche surged towards the front, taking advantage of her exhaustion, and she fell to her knees. It wasn't one of the stronger attempts by the psyches to take over and she was able to beat it back a few moments later. The psyches wouldn't silence and she couldn't even make herself stand up again. Instead, she leaned her back up against the wall, pulling her knees tight against her chest.

"Shutupshutupgoaway," she muttered, eyes shut tight as she rocked back and forth, trying to force the psyches back.

Some days, she could just shove the psyches away and pretend that nothing was wrong. Not today.

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Julian wasn't sleeping well. For all that vacation time, he didn't feel very rested, not today. It wasn't the jet lag, or the piles of work he just couldn't concentrate on. It was Ali, maybe. The distinct numbness he was carrying in his chest ever since she had broken down in his arms. The concern that weighed down his every step. The grief. He wasn't sure how much of it was hers and how much of it was his, not right now.

For the first time in a long time, Julian could feel the fragility of his own grief. How vulnerable the damn inside that had held him together for the past few years could be. The thought made him grit his teeth, dispense the overemotional sentiment in anger. He was fine. He was always fine. Better than fine.

He couldn't concentrate in his room, not with Josh blasting Lifehouse because he thought that pussy music helped him study better. He couldn't really concentrate on his work anywhere, but he figured a change of scenery couldn't hurt, and that's why he was here.

With a heavy sigh, he tossed his books on an empty table. He heard her first, before anything else. Heard the desperate, strained tone of her murmuring voice before he even made out the words.

He stilled then, turned his head. There she was, half-hidden by a table, curled helplessly against the wall. Some rose in his throat, blocked it as he swallowed. He was taking a step forward and then another even though he doubted he should; doubted this was a moment she wanted anyone to see. But he couldn't leave her like this, pretend he hadn't seen it. He leaned down a little, let his hand hover over her shoulder--but didn't touch. Even his voice was a cautious whisper. "Sweetheart?"

She barely even realised that he was beside her. Her eyes were staring unblinkingly straight ahead as Magneto's psyche started to cause problems. She barely had enough energy to combat the psyche much less tell him to go away because she was fine. Completely and utterly fine.

He forced himself to breathe, realized he had stopped for a moment, watching her unseeing eyes. "Rogue?" he murmured, his tone strained, his eyes searching her pained expression. He reached for her, cautiously but without the usual hesitance, the carefulness he always took not to scare her, so she didn't flinch away instinctively. His hands cupped her face, protected by her thick hair that hung, slightly wet, over her cheeks. Gently, he tilted her face towards him as he folded to his knees in front of her, tried to find her in her vacant eyes. "Rogue?"

His touch was enough to jolt her at least somewhat out of this trance. "Julian?" Her voice was hesitant and almost surprised. She didn't move away partially because she couldn't and partially because the feeling of his palms against her cheeks was like a safety line to reality. "I can't make it stop," she whispered.

His exhale was shaky, relieved, his fingers curling slightly into her hair, but that relief was tainted by the dropping in his gut at her words, by the wide, scared look in her gaze. He looked away, looked over her huddled form as if it could give him a clue as to what was wrong. But as his eyes locked with hers again, he knew it wasn't anything he could see, not really. "What can't you stop, sweetheart?" he murmured.

She shook her head, eyes wide as she looked away. There was no way she could tell him. It was a secret she had kept for far too long now. "I can't-- I can't--" She let out a small cry of pain as the psyches redoubled their efforts and her nails dug into her thighs even through gloves.

"Rogue?" he called her name again, concern injecting a note of panic into his tone. He tried to nudge her head up again, tried to keep her here with him; he was terrified of seeing that blank expression again. He leaned closer, reached to grip her arm gently.

He wasn't sure what to do, his breath shallow, his heart in his stomach. Helplessness wasn't a feeling he felt often, wasn't one he usually let bear down on him. But looking at the agony she was in, for even a moment, cut through him. "Sweetheart, stay with me," he breathed desperately. "Look at me."

Edited 2010-10-25 23:50 (UTC)

Normally, she dealt with the bad swings by locking herself in her room and letting the psyches take control until she could form a better defence but that wasn't an opinion here. She couldn't hide, she had to fight.

Her head felt like it was going to explode as she slowly forced her gaze up to meet his. She could feel her body start to shake from the combined effects of exhaustion and the sheer effort of fighting to stay in control.

He didn't know what was wrong, couldn't even fathom what she was experiencing. But he could see it, the twisted look of anguish on her face, feel her tired body tremble with effort beside him.

He set his jaw then; he tried to find strength for her as he searched the glazed look in her eyes, the pained film of tears over them. He moved decisively, didn't let his gaze stray from hers as he scooped her up by the waist, pulled her up against him to quell her shaking, his fingers weaving into her hair.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered calmly. "You're fine. I got you."

Gloved fingers grasped at his t-shirt as he pulled her to him. Her body was still trembling and a part of her hated herself for how desperately she was clinging to him but it was starting to help. The psyches were still there, loud as ever, but her grasp on reality was just that much better with his arms around her. Because she never hallucinated someone telling her that it was going to be okay, only horrible things, and therefore this must be real.

Afterward, after all of this, Julian would look back at this moment, wonder over how right it felt. Even with her wide, glazed eyes staring up at him, her trembling breaths warming his cheeks. He'd think she was beautiful, even now. And she was, but the only thing that consumed him at the moment was some soft ache in his chest. He wanted to tip his head down, rest his forehead against hers, but all he could do was fall deeper into their shared gaze. His palm ran up and down her back, and he was quiet for a few moments, only the slight movement of their bodies and the uneven tempo of their breathing filling the library with sound.

She bowed her head, eyes shutting as she tried to focus on silencing the psyches. Slowly, she felt her body stop shaking. It was only his arms around her that stopped her from just collapsing the rest of the way to the floor.

She was going to regret this later- she already knew that she was going to but right now this contact, this reassurance was what she needed.

He watched her eyes close, didn't fear the loss of contact this time. She was calmer now, her body had ceased shaking. Even though her fingers were still tight, bunched around the fabric of his t-shirt, her weight was against him, warm and heavy and not tense anymore. He let out an exhale, closed his eyes and thanked whoever might be listening that she was better.

He pulled her forward against his chest carefully, his lips and nose against the crown of her head. He gave into the pressure of her body, the exhaustion in her limbs, and slowly sat back against the wall, pulled her with him. "It's okay," he breathed into her hair. "You're okay."

Her mind was still a chaotic painful mess even with the psyches retreating. The warmth of his arms around her was comforting as she sought to resort some semblance of calm in her brain. She was almost scared to move away in case that grounded in reality feeling fled her once more.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, words almost completely muffled as her hair fell back from behind her ear to cover her face.

His lashes fluttered open at the softly spoken words, his chest raising and falling, evenly and steadily. He pulled his head back just enough to peer over her, turned his cheek slightly against to the softness of her hair. Like a magnet, his fingers reached to tuck her hair back in place, slow and careful of her skin. She wasn't moving, so he wouldn't, his arm readjusting around her, looser now even as he gave her a comforting squeeze. He didn't say anything for a long moment, merely sat still, peaceful and far from numb, despite the unsettled feeling in his gut over her episode.

How could he say he didn't mind, that she was welcome? To what? Break down in his arms whenever she needed to? It almost made him smile at the strangeness, the absurdity of it, but he didn't, even though his lips tilted up barely. "I'm always here for you," he answered instead, in a soft undertone.

"Thanks," she repeated just as softly. She was far calmer now: the psyches were dormant again and that feeling of normalcy was starting to return. As that returned, so did the feeling that as comforting as this was, it wasn't quite right and she needed to move away. It wasn't something she could bring herself to do yet though.

A crowd of pleas were at the tip for her tongue-- for him not to tell anyone about this, for him not to tell Logan about this, for him to forget that this had ever happened --but she couldn't voice any of them.

He wanted to ask. Wanted to know what just happened, why it did. But he couldn't--wouldn't ask, not now. Sensed that even if he tried and broke the quiet, it wouldn't be for the best. He knew maybe he should tell someone. Tell Emma or Logan, tell Storm, but he knew, holding her as he was at that moment, that he wouldn't. He wouldn't until he knew something more. Until she told him or explained. She was private and as long as she was... okay right now, there was no need too push so soon. And this was... private. His eyes closed on a short sigh, his fingers smoothing back her hair, idly playing with it.

They sat there silently for a few minutes, neither one of really moving. Finally, she slowly loosened her grip on his shirt and carefully maneuvered her way out his arms, wary of any bare skin. She exhaled slowly, shifting so she was sitting beside him, spine pressed against the wall. The floor had suddenly become rather interesting and her hands started wring in her lap as embarrassment started to set in. There was nothing she hated more than showing her weaknesses so blatantly and she was fairly sure a person couldn't get much more blatant than what had just occurred.

He moved with her, pushing himself up straighter against the wall. He didn't entertain the notion of looking away from her, didn't even want to stop looking. She hated all of this, he knew it--touching, looking, talking. But he needed to look at her now, some aching wave of affection laced into his concern. When did her ever really look at her, besides that one moment in the maze, right before he kissed her? And wasn't this what he had been avoiding all along? Not touching her so he couldn't keep wanting to, not only for her. Not looking so he could avoid seeing something he couldn't--didn't want to handle.

She was embarrassed; he saw that. Saw the pink in her cheeks, the unsure line of her lips. The way her fingers grabbed and pulled at each other. How she avoided him completely. He rested his cheek against the wall as he watched her for another moment, licked his dry lips.

"Rogue," he said quietly, struggling for the right words. "Whatever this is... you don't have to be alone."

Edited 2010-10-26 13:32 (UTC)

"It's nothing," she answered quickly, shaking her head. "I can handle it. It's fine. Today's just... it's just a bad day."

She couldn't lift her gaze to even glance at him, afraid of what she'd find there. Afraid that she might find herself feeling similarly. It almost made her miss battling with the psyches. At least she knew where she stood with them.

He gazed at her for another moment, studied the worried lines on her face as she lied. It was a lie, he knew it. At least partially. This wasn't nothing, she could hardly handle it. It wasn't fine. He sucked in a steadying breath and let it out, looking away into the empty, quiet room. He wanted to reach for her again, touch her somehow, but now he hesitated, wasn't sure how. Wasn't sure if he should.

But he did anyway, reached to place his hand over hers to stop their nervous fidgeting.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the question was weighted with all the others he didn't voice. "Does someone--Emma or Logan--do they know?"

Edited 2010-10-26 15:42 (UTC)

She shook her head and repeated the lie that came so easily. "I'm fine. It's fine." Her hands stilled beneath his touch before she pulled one of them away to tuck wayward white hair back behind her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him open his mouth to repeat his second question. "They know," she said softly before he could say anything. "They already know."

He nodded then, relieved, glanced from her downturned face to their hands. She had only pulled one away, and some part of him was stuck on that fact. The part of him that wasn't stuck on the lost look in her eyes not fifteen minutes ago. "Good," he murmured, and then again, his voice stronger. "Good." Gently, he curled his fingers around her hand, gave it a soft squeeze.

Edited 2010-10-26 16:16 (UTC)

"He doesn't need to know about this though, okay?" Rogue raised her head to look at him for the first time in what seemed like ages. There was a strength in her voice that hadn't previously been there. The last thing she wanted was for her mentor to find out this had happened after all her progress earlier in the week.

He looked up to her too, his gaze soft and searching, his brow slightly furrowed. She wanted to keep this--whatever this was--a secret from Logan. He swallowed, his lips parted as he examined the renewed strength in her expression, the firmness of her resolve. She was scared. He thought she was scared, at least. Scared of whatever consequences would ensue. About what had happened.

If Logan knew--if Emma knew, they must know this. At least Emma must. How could she not know? So he nodded, comforted by that thought, at least. "Okay," he agreed. "I won't tell anyone. Just--as long as you promise me one thing."

She narrowed her eyes, torn between suspicion and curiosity. "Depends on what it is."

"You promise me that if this gets worse, I won't have to," he said, leaning in closer, holding her gaze. His tone was firm but not unkind, his eyes leaving hers to roam the slopes of her faces for a second. "Because you will."

She had to bite back at laugh at that. If it got worse? It already was worse. She wasn't sure that it could much worse. But he didn't know that and she wasn't about to tell him. Instead, she took a moment to compose herself before nodding soberly with a half lie. "Alright, fine."

He hesitated then at the dryness of her reply, the bitter amusement that passed over her features. He wondered, and definitely not for the last time, if he was handling this right. If he should go straight to Emma right now. If not letting anyone know put Rogue in more danger from whatever it was that had happened.

He looked at her, the doubt on his face hard and lingering as he lifted his free hand to touch her hair, brush it back with easy gentleness. Even familiarity, from wanting to do it so many times.

They had moved past the easy and comfortable part of this whole encounter and Rogue felt herself headed straight for awkward. She bit her lip as she slowly stood up, body still protesting at the mere thought of movement.

"I should... I have..." She rested a hand on her books and nodded towards the library door.

"Look, don't," he started, the words more reflex than anything as he followed her to his feet. He slipped between her and the door, his hip resting against the table, his fingers resting lightly over her books, next to hers. He didn't want her to go, especially not this time. But what could he say to make her stay? "You don't have to... I wasn't lying, sweetheart. I'm always here for you."

"I know," Rogue said, looking to the side and not at him again. She picked up her books, clutching at them with both hands so she wouldn't start wringing them again. "I just have a lot of work to finish for tomorrow." She doesn't even know if it's a lie or the truth.

He sighed, looked into the empty space she seemed to have so much interest in. His hand hovered between them, over her hip for a moment. "Okay," he said, reluctant. "I'll see you."

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[closed log] Breakdown amongst the Books

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