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Epsilon series	By : savysavestheday Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Het - Male/Female Views: 1074 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-Men movies, or any of the characters from them. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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TITLE: … before
FANDOM: X-Men

{AU-ish world}

RATING: PG-13 (I think?)
WORD COUNT: about 2580
WARNINGS: My mother never washed my mouth with soap and you can tell.

{the usual}

PAIRING: Rogue/Pyro
SUMMARY: … This is before. Before you learn what he wants. Before you learn what it all means.

{for 50scenes@livejournal}

PROMPT: 011 change
SENTENCE: #08 - Thousand. There are thousands of different ways to make him angry (and you know most of them) but only one that calms him down immediately, always; Pyro, just call him Pyro, because it never fails.

A/N: In case you're wondering what the fuck is going on… happen to remember those 50 smutty Ryro sentences I wrote for 1sentence@livejournal? Yep. Now I'm going to write a few of those sentences into scenes and stories and include them into my claim. This would be the first fic of EPSILON SERIES -- That series includes the fics written from those 50 sentences mentioned above. I've also posted the original sentences under the title 'epsilon series ... sentences' in case you're interested. This thing hasn't been betaed, but if you'd like to be one to proofread it, then lemme know ^^;

The fics will form a story in a way (as do the sentences), but they're not posted in any sort of order --- other than the order in which I write them. You've been warned, hee.

DISCLAIMER: You should use google more often.
... before

This is before. Before you learn what he wants. Before you learn what it all means.

The stinging sound you heard a few seconds ago, it's still ringing in your ears loud and clear and the same goes for him, no doubt. If you didn't know better, you'd say the moment keeps repeating itself over and over again as if you had just acquired the ability to bend time, which under the circumstances would be pretty damn nifty. It'd save you from a lot of trouble, wouldn't it?
The sound, that damned thing, it echoes, echoes inside your head like everything else nowadays does and it only keeps getting louder. Each time, every echo, louder… but you're smarter than that. You aren't fooled.
The sound you hear, it's not a fucked up time loop and even in the middle of it all, you're aware of that.
Because hell, you aren't stupid enough to think you would've suddenly learnt a new power without touching anyone. It doesn't work that way, it never has. Shit, it's got to be the first time in the history you actually wish it did. Considering it was only a few months ago you wanted nothing more to do with it, be rid of the whole damn thing, maybe it's weird.
You're pretty sure it is.
That, however, doesn't matter the slightest; either way, you know nothing can ever be that easy and so as established, it simply does not work like that. It's the reason why you know that fucking sound in repeat is nothing more but your imagination playing tricks on you, trying to protect you from the consequences of your own thoughtless actions. Trying to protect you by lying, by denial, by any means necessary.
You draw your hand to your mouth in unison with the unexpected gasp fleeing your throat and you stare, just stare. Do you even blink? Breathe? Yes, no, maybe. Who the hell can pay attention to things like that right now, huh? Not you, no.
"Oh for fuck's sake," he mutters under his breath and repeats the phrase a few times, twice at least, maybe even more… if he says it again after that, you don't notice, because at that point you've actually realized for sure what you've done, oh shit, and now you're desperately trying to find something to say. A way out.
Although, really, if you could just swallow and keep breathing, that'd be cool too - it would buy you a few extra minutes if nothing else and who knows, it could be enough. You ain't expecting a miracle any time soon, though, but you figured you could at least mention all that in your useless little prayer.
"I-I… I didn't… I didn't…" you try to speak, form a single sentence to explain it was an accident, but as soon as one word gets past your lips, you forget the other supposed to follow its tail. Where the fuck does your private thought end and speak begin?
Time's running up and when it does, you're screwed. In more ways than one. There's this look in his eyes that you can't really translate, but you've seen it so many times already that it's easy to tell where it'll take you. Where he'll take you.
To hell and heaven, back and forth, again and again. Doesn't matter where exactly this time, or when, or how many times, the result will always stay the same.
You'll cry. You'll scream.
And he'll watch and enjoy and stroke your body, kiss it better.
He moves fast, like always. You knew it'd happen and you were supposed to be prepared, but still he manages to charge forwards and grab your arms; slam your back against the wall and lock his fingers around your chin, making sure you're focusing on the one thing he wants you to see.
"Shit, you know how much I hate that, Marie," he snarls against the side of your neck, letting the name roll off his tongue like it was the most sensual thing in the whole goddamn world. In some twisted way - you'll never understand how, ever and you don't even want to - to him it probably is, isn't it? But it's not the main reason for him calling you that, never is and never will be. It's all because he knows you don't want people calling you that, not anymore. It's too painful but fuck if he cares. Why should he care if it reminds you of things best forgotten.

Marie, forgotten by the world. Like she should be.

The day your first real boyfriend nearly lost his life due an innocent kiss, that's the day Marie died and Rogue was born. Everyone else cares about you deeply and with that, respects your feelings, everyone expect him. He seems to think making you remember; your suffering and scorching pain, it's all his prerogative and no one else's.
"Say you're sorry," he commands, hot breath on your skin and his grip on your chin softening only momentarily.
But unlike he thought, you don't say a word. No, suddenly you realize you simply don't want to, don't want to let him win again. You should, of course you should, but you just don't want to, 'cause shit, enough is enough. That, recognizing those thoughts as your own, it makes all the difference in the world. You don't owe him anything, not a fucking thing and despite it all, despite this, you still have your damned pride. Or what's left of it anyway.
"Screw you!"
You have it in you, somewhere, all it takes is your will. The power you've finally learnt to block a bit returns full-force, taking him by surprise. Taking you both, actually, but you hide it behind a stony stare full of determination - there's no way in hell you'll give him another emotional weapon to use in this battle. He's like a hunting animal; always smells the fear and insecurities even before you have the time to feel them yourself. You've never understood how he does it.
No more - now it's time for the stupid game to end.

The shock waves billow from him to you, to your body, to your mind, bringing forth memories and treasures that aren't yours to keep, but you extract anyway. After the way he's been toying with your emotions lately, maybe it's only fair he's not the only one holding a piece of you. You can feel his pain like an empath would, caused by your actions, felt by him, felt by you both and it's all so confusing, all so twisted and ardent in his head. You need to get out.
Now, Rogue, now. Do it.
This is your opening and then it's his turn to gasp for air as the pain tantalizes his senses - he gasps, just like you expected him to, wanted him to, and when he does, you push him away with all your anger and hatred giving you the kind of demonic strength he never anticipated. Probably didn't think you'd possess such power, huh?

He falls down on his back and winces in agony while doing so. If you had time, you'd recognize a complacent smile sailing on your lips. If you had, that is, but you don't. Though you know it's morally wrong, you do admit how it makes you feel to see him lying there like that, defeated for the time being. Yeah, it gives you some sort of undefined pleasure and that alone is strange to you, distressing even - you've never been satisfied by someone else's suffering and you've always, always hated people like that - but this time, with him, you can't help it. He's changed you somehow and you don't bother trying to deny it - not anymore. What's the point, huh? What purpose does it serve? Fine, sure, you'll fight it till you can't, till the bitter end but come on, denying it would be useless. Fucking waste of energy, that's what.
Out of blue you feel strong and capable again. Like you did when you were still Marie, young and innocent. Oddly, it annoys you, bothers insanely because you can't be sure if it's you from whom the feeling bred or if it's him, his fucked up thoughts still lingering in your system. He sees you differently and sometimes, as much as you hate it, you wish you could see yourself through his eyes.
You always look beautiful to him.
Shit, moving on.

Well, be it him or you, one fact remains the same. He hasn't attempted to get up and so he's still on the ground which pleases you. Right now, this moment, you're the one in control, holding all the strings of faith and you love the fact he senses it too. He knows it, damnit. The fact he's fighting for air and feeling exactly what you've been feeling for the past month pleases you too.
Feeling insecure. You gotta give it to yourself -- how often does the fucked up pyromaniac feel insecure? Yeah, exactly.
Besides, you could be mean and cruel like he always is and say it. Just say it. It'd bring a smile to your face for sure and wipe his... but then, you remember he's not smiling anyway. No, he's looking at you from the floor, trying not to pant rapidly, a hand on his heart and you can't help but appreciate the irony of the pretty picture. What fucking heart, seriously?
So yeah, you could be a dirty barbarian, drag the truth out of its cave and throw it at his face like you know he would do if given the chance. In a fucking heartbeat.
Actually, he will, eventually, but you don't know that yet. Because this is before. Before everything.
"You're an asshole, Pyro," you snort his mutant name without realizing it and shake your head, "you know that?" The words came out ungranted and afterwards, you hesitate. Was that it, huh? Did you cross the line this time?
But nothing happens and that scares you - probably more than if he'd actually done something, reacted. He doesn't look angry, doesn't jump up and grab your throat.
You simply look at him with a frown crowning your forehead, trying to understand and come to a negative conclusion. Maybe you didn't, then. Actually… No, you most certainly didn't; something's not like it was, something's changed. Whether it's him or you, you have no clue but you suppose during a moment like this, it weights about as much as a fly's crap.
"You've mentioned it," he breathes out in amusement, which takes you by surprise, "once or twice, actually." His voice is edgy, husky and it makes your skin crawl nastily. You hate it, hate the way he affects your senses even when he doesn't mean to. Even when he's in no real position to do so. When he shouldn't.
You hate it - the wall he's managed to build between himself and rest of the world. The wall that makes it impossible for you to know what he's thinking even after you just got a comprehensive glimpse of his world. It's not normal for crying out loud!

Pyro, he's smiling - no, not smiling, but grinning. It's the kind of grin that brings back memories you don't really want to cherish or remember; the three of you. The three of you having fun before everything got messed up and fell apart, crumbled. That moment in the cafeteria and the way you felt when he indeed was showing off, for you like always and laughing about it. Bobby's words enter your mind and that's when you finally shut it off, try and forget the whole thing. Forget the damn thought ever crossed your mind because in what universe would it be fair to think about Bobby right now?
Not in yours.
And why the fuck is he looking at you like that; like he'd know exactly what and who you're thinking about and enjoying your misery?
He's the one on the damn ground for fuck's sake, he's the one that should be worried and uncomfortable, not you. Why the hell isn't he?
Suddenly you tense even more, fidget.

"Well... you are," you blurt out, nervous and he laughs hoarshly. Obviously he's not hurting anymore, not physically anyway. He's always hurting mentally - no matter how thick that fucking brick wall between him and his subconscious is, you know that much at least. But that's not something you want to think about because it makes you actually feel sorry for him and really, that's completely uncalled for. He had it coming.
He's been tormenting you for months now - ignoring all your pleads, watering all the possible threats and warnings if not by violence, then by charm. It started innocently, so innocently that you didn't even notice what was happening before it was too late.

But you know your mistake now and you'll never do it again, right? Up until the moment you defined the source of the problem, you always saw him as a young boy, John, never as Pyro, never as a strong and vengeful mutant willing to do anything for his own cause. And now? There's no John left in him, is there? It's all Pyro. Of course, that doesn't mean you'd let him know that. You will always, always call him John to his face, right? Of course.

No, it had absolutely nothing to do with the redoubling thought hammering in the back of your mind. The one claiming you actually like the hot-tempered Pyro more than you ever liked John.

Not true. Stop thinking about it, okay?

"I don't want to play this game anymore," you utter abruptly and his grin dies while doubt appears into his eyes; you swear they flash mischievously.

"I know what you've been trying to do, I'm not a little kid anymore. Okay, fine," you spit the last part out the minute you realize he's gonna disagree, say something or possibly laugh, "I may not have slept with a guy, but I've been around you enough to know where you're trying to go with all... with all those things you've done..." Breathe, swallow, continue. "And you know what, Pyro? You are never ever gonna get me in bed with you."
This time you detect your mistake, but bypass it with a straight face. Unlike he - to your big annoyance, he noticed too and all he does is chuckle. Have fun on your expense, as usual. Some things never change, do they? Not even after you've punched him in the face after one of his unforgivable comments. He had that one coming, too.
"Really?" He questions with the usual, cocky smile of his and winks, "if you say so."
Okay, fine.

You're not sure whether you should be worried or something, but you still allow a small smile of undeclared victory to meet your lips -- but only because on some level you think you've already won. You're still standing, still physically unhurt. That's gotta count for something.

Real progress, absolutely.
At least that's how you see it. He naturally doesn't feel it necessary for you to know you're wrong - not yet, but in time, you'll find out.
So yeah, this is before. Before you learn to control him the way he needs you to and before you start to enjoy the game.
Before everything.
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Epsilon series