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Remy’s dead.
That fact becomes more and more real to you every moment of every day.
He’s dead, and you don’t recognise the person you’ve become in the wake of that. You’ve become a walking ball of hurt, and unquelled rage at the injustice of it all.
Because he was a good man – the best of men – and the saddest thing was that you never even realised it until he was no longer there for you to appreciate it. He died so you could live. He died so many could live. He became the hero he never believed he was.
The truth? – he became a better hero than you, than any of the people who call themselves the X-Men.
You see them now. Toing and froing. Backing and forthing. Their words wash over you, and they mean nothing. You want to shout and scream at them, because none of this is important. He’s here with you, in the coat that smells of him, and that you wear now, because it protects you, it shields you from... what?
It doesn’t matter. He’s here. You’ve brought him here with you to listen. He’d be standing here with you, sending you raised eyebrows and cynical grins, because damn, chere, why these couyons so serious all of a sudden? But you’d always know the truth. That he cared. He cared, first because you did. And second because you taught him to believe there is a greater good, a greater truth worth fighting for. Even if he only ever really fought for that truth because of you.
You raised him.
You laid him low.
Because you know the real reason he’s dead now.
That rage inside you? You can’t bear to acknowledge that the real person it’s directed at is you.
You.
His words sting, still. You can’t get them out of your head. They sting not because they were meant to, but because his graciousness sucked the breath out of you, and the moment he could never say them again was the moment you truly understood them.
You will never be his chere again. You will always be his amie now.
There will never be a moment of grand realisation for him. Not the way you had yours.
Some things be deeper than skin.
Yes. Yes!
That was your grand realisation.
Rogue, stop following the grand designs of others! Stop seeking the truth, the greater good! Seek what is in your heart! Be selfish.
Be selfish, his ghost whispers in your ear.
What is it your heart desires?
You, your heart whispers back. Always only you.
But you never told him. There was never a moment to do so.
Well. That’s a lie.
You’re both kneeling there next to Kurt’s prone and bleeding body, and there’s an instant where your eyes meet. Your eyes meet. Unconditional love radiating from him, making the words push at you.
I choose you, Remy.
But they don’t come.
Why didn’t they come?!
The rage and the anguish swells in you as you remember.
If only you had let him know! You would have given him every reason not to throw his life away so recklessly! A million times now you’ve turned around in your head the difference it would’ve made if you’d only said those words!
Why didn’t you wait for me, swamp rat? Why didn’t you wait for me to help you with that darn Sentinel?
Because you broke his heart. Because there was nothing left for him except protecting you.
Because it’s always ever been about you. There was never any greater good to him but you. What he did wasn’t for Genosha, not really, not when you get down to it. It was for you. It was because he did what you would’ve done. And he earned his hero’s redemption because of it. All too late.
The world is tunnelling. You’re walking out onto the pier, but you don’t remember how you got there.
His presence is supposed to be helping you, giving you strength, but it’s only a reminder of the power of that inwardly-directed rage. It’s stronger than the rage you’re directing towards the world. What you said to Trask was the truth. You have nothing. You have nothing because of you.
And he died thinking you’d chosen someone else.
The Professor comes.
This time he’s too late, far too late.
He says things. Do you hear? Not really.
You say things back, things that hardly matter. His smell is all around you. That is the thing that matters. The thing that protects you. That holds you together, moment by moment. It counteracts your betrayal. Reminds you that you will always have his love, despite the path you take.
You realise now what his presence, this coat, is protecting you from.
Your rage.
It’s the reason you’ve draped it over yourself every night, so you can cry yourself to sleep, instead of staring at the ceiling and swearing bloody vengeance against those who took his life away, stealing away any rest you can get.
You saw so much blood that day. So much murder, so much killing. The first opening gambit in a wider war. How ironic. You’ve fought and fought for the greater good, but you’ve never experienced this, the antithesis of that greater good. Before, it was all just in the abstract. A dream. Xavier’s dream. Erik’s dream. Whatever the dream was, it crumbled for you that day.
You lost two things.
You lost love. And you lost hope.
All that matters now is reparation for those losses.
Erik’s there, and so are the others.
You listen, and all the poison in you burgeons – it’s welling in your pores and tunnelling your vision and burning through your eyes.
You’ve felt it countless times now, this feeling swelling up to fill the empty voids inside you. You’ve been fighting it for days now, unsuccessfully. It’s already led you down a path. You’ve already shed blood for it.
Remy died to stop more bloodshed.
It’s yet another way you’ve betrayed him.
It’s yet another point of self-directed rage.
And it’s the thing that tips you over, finally, fully. You’re tired of holding this in. You’re so damn tired of denying the rage you’ve been haphazardly holding in check.
Embrace it. Embrace it, girl. You have nothin’ left but this. Destroy the ones who stole from you. Find justice for Genosha.
Find justice for the only man who deserves it, the man you love.
You don’t say the other part.
The part that says you don’t mind destroying yourself in the process, because it was you who cost yourself his love, and cost him his life.
Rogue.
You’re free.
You’re no longer caught between the lofty ideals of two bickering men.
Neither is right; and neither is wrong.
But you’ve seen what it means to be in a war now, the war Erik has always so desired, that Xavier has inadvertently brought to your door. And you don’t like it. Not one darn bit. It’s unshackled you.
You’re free.
To do as you choose.
You look at your friends. Your family.
Fighting the good fight, once again.
How petty they all seem. How unimportant.
There is no greater good anymore, can’t they see it? There never was.
Not when this world is soaked in blood. Not when the stains can’t be washed out of your mind.
They never saw what you saw. They never felt what you felt.
Him, in your arms, broken and bloody and cold, the cruel irony of touching his beautiful bare skin and feeling nothing.
They will never know what that feels like.
The only thing that matters.
Your fists are balled so tight they hurt. Your eyes are burning, the pressure behind them is all the pressure of this righteous and indignant fury inside you.
You’ve been cheated. Nothing left but to wreak retribution.
Erik wants blood. He wants what you want. Death. The X-Men won’t tolerate what it is you have to do next. And for the sake of those you love, you inwardly acknowledge that you cannot stain them with the blood you will shed, that he died to end. Kurt, your brother – another good man, the only one left to you – well, he would try desperately to stop you from walking this path.
And you don’t want anyone to stop you.
You slip off his coat.
You don’t need to do this, mon amie, his voice licks at the back of your mind, soft yet resigned. But if it’s what you want, I won’t stop you.
It’s what I need, Remy. You need it. You need justice. Until they’ve paid, your blood will always be on my conscience.
But no matter who pays, his blood will always be on your conscience.
That’s what he tries to tell you, as you hand him away.
Let it go, mon amie, he says.
But he always knew you were stubborn and ornery as a mule. He won’t begrudge you this. He knows, and always knew, exactly what you are. And you love him for it.
Even if he still no longer calls you his chere, not even in the voice you give him in your mind.
There.
You’ve handed him to Charles – Charles who cajoled him into becoming the hero that cost him his life, and who abandoned him to that cruel fate.
You’ve handed him to the side of the angels, where he now belongs.
He doesn’t need to be a part of what you’re going to do.
You’re not going to be an angel anymore; not like he is.
You’re going to join Erik, for no other reason than you share one thing with him right now.
Vengeance.
You look at the others.
Still caught up in the dream.
So naïve, so trusting. So broken by everything except the loss of hope.
Silly people.
You love them all, but Lord, this is all so silly.
Being caught between the push and pull of two men’s monumentally stupid egos.
You’re going to do some terrible things. You’ll protect the ones you love. You’ll protect what’s left of what it means to be a mutant. But there are a thousand and one things you’ll no longer protect. Yes – you’ll do some terrible things. And Erik will be the only one to let you do them. That’s okay. You rejected him, as a man, as a lover – and you stand by that. Lord, how you stand by that. If only they could see that the only thing you live and breathe right now is him. He is everything, and he burns you up now just as he always did, but now it’s not just with love, it’s with hate.
You take the plunge, and you join Erik’s side. The truth is, you barely need to think about it.
You’ll keep to this path until the burning stops. Until the hate is all ash. Until all that remains is the tender flame of the love he gave to you.
You don’t think about your greatest fear. That no matter how many you make pay for this, the hate will always remain.
That beyond your vengeance, there will still be what you have now.
Nothing.
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