Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > Bittersweet Memories
Rogue stares at the clock on her nightstand the neon numbers glaring back at her, an angry red blur. It's a quarter past three and no matter how much she's tried to calm her mind and drift off back to sleep, each attempt seems futile.
Mag—Erik , she corrects. The name sounds foreign on her tongue, but it is in fact his name. The more Rogue learns about Erik from his memories that continue to resurface the less he seems like Magneto the monster hell-bent on mutant domination.
Still, more humanistic or not his memories always result in a surge of adrenaline making sleep near impossible to reclaim. 'Couldn't he have one normal, non-threatening, perfectly calming memory? Was that too much to ask for a girl trying to sleep through the night…for once this month?'
Shifting once more, this time to roll on her stomach, Rogue fluffs her pillow. At this point she's libel to start counting sheep if it will bring her sleep; she hasn't slept through the night in weeks now. Between sifting through holocaust memories and dealing with the affects of Logan's attitude being an added fixture sleep took a back seat in importance.
Erik's latest memory that had resurfaced was especially troubling to Rogue.
For one, it wasn't a complete memory. It was more feelings; everything internalized. Well almost everything, there had been one image that stuck out, those blue eyes that seemed to pierce through her. They were familiar, she'd seen them before in some of Erik's other memories, she was sure of it; you didn't forget eyes like those.
And that's what troubled her. Because in the back of her mind she knew the reason the eyes were so familiar was because they were in fact Charles', the Professor's she mentally reminds herself. She doesn't know him as Charles; Erik does, not her.
The Professor's eyes had been filled with a sense of despair and anguish, glazed over with unshed tears as they looked upwards, pleading almost. It was all together heartbreaking, and that's what really bothered Rogue. She only had part of the memory, and now she was certain she didn't want the full memory to resurface anytime soon.
She knew that whatever happened on that beach left Erik feeling extremely guilty and judging by the hurt filling Charles' own eyes neither man was happy with the outcome.
That's probably why she was still awake now. Part of her knew that once her eyes shut she'd likely gain another element of the memory, but what if she wasn't ready for that?
She'd seen Erik's memories from Auschwitz, but judging from the raw emotions of guilt and pain that she'd felt tonight perhaps what had been left unseen to her was even worse. 'if that was even possible.' Rogue wasn't keen on finding out if her belief was true or not, and so maybe she was forcing herself to remain awake rather than face the pending memory that waited for her once her eyes closed.
Giving a sigh of resignation Rogue shifted once more to lie flat on her back. Staring up at the white ceiling she wondered slightly amused if there was a 'right' way to approaching this matter.
Shaking her head at the silly notion she decided that she was just over thinking things and complicating matters worse; instead she simply started counting.
'1…2…3…'
It seemed like this was the worst decision ever, but somewhere around 316 she finally dropped off, succumbing to sleep's persuasive pull.
Interrupting Raven and Hank from having their little moment was perhaps a cruel thing to do, but it was the least of my worries. I was just bidding time, waiting for everyone to fall asleep before I began my search for the files on Shaw. This was CIA after all; they had to have something, anything I could use.
Locating the files on Shaw had been a little easier than I had expected. They weren't hidden; not even under watch.
Seems Moira had let her guard down and the cabinets filled with files had remained unlocked. It was almost teasing to put them there just in reach and not expect me to lift them.
It's what I wanted, what I need. I'd been searching for Shaw and now at the tips of my fingers was an entire file on him. It was with the greatest of ease that I pulled the file out from the cabinet.
Everything I needed to know was here, conveniently labeled in this manila folder.
'Shaw, Sebastian
File No. 118470'
Staring at the label once more I allowed a slight smirk to find its way to my lips. Placing the folder in my briefcase a sigh of relief leaves my lips as I hear the locks click. The folder is safe now; confined to my own briefcase I had brought to the compound with me. The only option left now is to leave.
We were supposed to be confined to headquarters; it seems Charles had upset some CIA officials who didn't take kindly to finding out about the existence of mutants. 'Then again I've never been one to follow rules,' I think as I close the door behind me silently.
Slipping on my leather jacket I make my way to the glass doors that lie at the front of the compound. They're 20 feet away, 20 feet and then freedom. Yes, freedom, and sweet revenge.
I've made it this far with out anyone noticing that I'm running, no not running, just not staying here. I had more important things to do than be confined under CIA watch. I reach the door and automatically quicken my pace; there's no need to be caught now.
Maybe I'm too focused on the contents of my briefcase, or just worried about reaching the car before I warrant unwanted attention, but whatever the reason I don't pick up on the fact that I'm not alone out here.
The shuffling of feet should tip me off to the fact that someone is outside with me, but it's not until I hear the voice that is suddenly becoming all too familiar that I still.
"From what I know about you, I'm surprised you've managed to stay this long."
My grip tightens on the handle of the briefcase. 'What I know about you?' The presumptuous response angers me, what could he possibly know?
Turning around slowly I fix my gaze on Charles, feeling a slight frown form on my lips I ask evenly "what do you know about me?"
The man has the smuggest look I've ever seen and rather than be intimidated by my steely gaze I'm fixing him with he just smirks.
"Everything," he replies sounding rather self-satisfied with his declaration.
'Ah yes, a telepath.' The thought of my own mind being invaded by another on a whim infuriates me and before I can process what I'm saying the words are tumbling out from my mouth rather bitterly.
"Then you know to stay out of my head." There's an underlying edginess bordering on the line of a threat and a mere suggestion in my words, and I figure Charles will pick up on it and just drop his crusade to talk me out of leaving so I turn away from him.
I'm wrong; on both accounts.
I've taken no more than two steps when I hear the clicking of shoes on the pavement and Charles' voice soon follows.
"I'm sorry Erik, but I've seen what Shaw did to you."
I stop, grounded in place. Not many things would have made me freeze, but Charles seems to have picked the one thing that would. My past is shaky at best; I have my demons I know that and I would never wish on anyone to have to relive the horrors I have gone through.
"I've felt your agony," he continues, stretching out the word agony. He sounds pained and I stiffen at the words he has to offer. "I can help you."
It's when I hear those words that I regain control. 'Help, how can he possibly do that?' I scoff as I let the words sink in; who does this man think he is?
"I don't need your help," I bite out, a little more roughly than I should have, as I turn to face Charles. I leave the 'I work alone' unspoken.
He still doesn't seem to grasp what I'm trying to say and instead launches into a final attempt of reason.
"Don't kid yourself. You needed my help last night. It's not just me you're walking away from," he speaks, the words coming off a little cold; the firm grasp he's had on his composure is fracturing slightly.
He's silent now and I think he's finally done, perhaps realized he's not going to get through. Instead he takes two steps closer to me and continues in more reserved tone.
"Here you have the chance to be part of something much bigger than yourself."
I swallow nervously but don't say a word. I don't trust myself to speak, so rather I continue to stare at Charles with what I assume is a mask of indifference.
He finally seems to understand he can't sway me from leaving, because now he is ducking his head breaking away from my gaze.
"I won't stop you from leaving," he finally states locking eyes with me as the words leave his mouth. "I could," he continues, nodding for emphasis. It's not quite a threat, more a reminder and I know it's true. "But I won't," he adds softly as he begins backpedaling.
He turns around heading for the door and I allow myself to watch him go thinking about what he's said. He's left me with the ball in my court, but suddenly the rules seem to have changed. He's giving up on reasoning with me and I have to wonder if this is the same man who jumped in without a second thought to pull me out of the water and keep me from drowning.
He's nearly at the door when he calls out "Shaw's got friends. You could do with some."
I pull my eyes away and turn back to the parking lot allowing my feet to carry me forward and continue my mission. I take a few steps before I falter.
Looking between the compound and parking lot I sigh in frustration before walking back to the door.
'Never reason with a telepath.'
Once inside I make for the room with the cabinet, reluctantly I pull out the files on Shaw and place them back where I found them. I'll get my opportunity, but right now there are other things I can do.
It's nearly nine in the morning and I haven't seen Charles since our talk last night. I've made it a point to remain out of sight; instead I've been wandering the compound trying to learn a little about the place.
I'm not sure where I've wandered to, but I notice one of the doors in the corridor I'm standing in is pushed open. There's talking going on, and normally I wouldn't eavesdrop, but the words I hear coming from the room intrigue me.
"…so it could enhance your telepathic powers, help us find other mutants for our division."
It's a private conversation, that much is certain, but I can't help myself from walking in to the door a question poised on the tip of my tongue. "What if they don't want to be found by you," I ask pointedly. It's then that I notice that Charles is in the room sitting opposite of that CIA guy in charge of this division.
"Erik," he replies. He seems genuinely surprised to see me, and it almost hurts to think that he believes I would desert so easily. "You decided to stay," he adds his lips curving slightly in a small smile.
I offer him a polite nod. Yes, I am staying.
"Although you think I cope my head is filled with hope of someplace other than here…"
The words pierce through Rogue's sleep muddled brain and soon she finds herself blinking her eyes open. Her lashes flutter rapidly as her eyes adjust to the light shining in from her bedroom window.
Sitting up in bed Rogue looks at the clock poised on her nightstand.
8:35
Surprised that she had actually fallen asleep she made a mental note never to criticize the idea of counting sheep again. Shutting off her alarm Rogue felt a surge of happiness fill her, her sleep hadn't been fitful in the least bit.
Replaying tonight's memory in her head Rogue lifted her hand to her lips. For the first time in weeks she smiled and it was completely genuine.
'He had stayed.'
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A/N: In case anyone is curious, the song that wakes Rogue up is Distant Dreamer by Duffy, its a very beautiful song, and I thought it somehow fit with her situation
Mag—Erik , she corrects. The name sounds foreign on her tongue, but it is in fact his name. The more Rogue learns about Erik from his memories that continue to resurface the less he seems like Magneto the monster hell-bent on mutant domination.
Still, more humanistic or not his memories always result in a surge of adrenaline making sleep near impossible to reclaim. 'Couldn't he have one normal, non-threatening, perfectly calming memory? Was that too much to ask for a girl trying to sleep through the night…for once this month?'
Shifting once more, this time to roll on her stomach, Rogue fluffs her pillow. At this point she's libel to start counting sheep if it will bring her sleep; she hasn't slept through the night in weeks now. Between sifting through holocaust memories and dealing with the affects of Logan's attitude being an added fixture sleep took a back seat in importance.
Erik's latest memory that had resurfaced was especially troubling to Rogue.
For one, it wasn't a complete memory. It was more feelings; everything internalized. Well almost everything, there had been one image that stuck out, those blue eyes that seemed to pierce through her. They were familiar, she'd seen them before in some of Erik's other memories, she was sure of it; you didn't forget eyes like those.
And that's what troubled her. Because in the back of her mind she knew the reason the eyes were so familiar was because they were in fact Charles', the Professor's she mentally reminds herself. She doesn't know him as Charles; Erik does, not her.
The Professor's eyes had been filled with a sense of despair and anguish, glazed over with unshed tears as they looked upwards, pleading almost. It was all together heartbreaking, and that's what really bothered Rogue. She only had part of the memory, and now she was certain she didn't want the full memory to resurface anytime soon.
She knew that whatever happened on that beach left Erik feeling extremely guilty and judging by the hurt filling Charles' own eyes neither man was happy with the outcome.
That's probably why she was still awake now. Part of her knew that once her eyes shut she'd likely gain another element of the memory, but what if she wasn't ready for that?
She'd seen Erik's memories from Auschwitz, but judging from the raw emotions of guilt and pain that she'd felt tonight perhaps what had been left unseen to her was even worse. 'if that was even possible.' Rogue wasn't keen on finding out if her belief was true or not, and so maybe she was forcing herself to remain awake rather than face the pending memory that waited for her once her eyes closed.
Giving a sigh of resignation Rogue shifted once more to lie flat on her back. Staring up at the white ceiling she wondered slightly amused if there was a 'right' way to approaching this matter.
Shaking her head at the silly notion she decided that she was just over thinking things and complicating matters worse; instead she simply started counting.
'1…2…3…'
It seemed like this was the worst decision ever, but somewhere around 316 she finally dropped off, succumbing to sleep's persuasive pull.
Interrupting Raven and Hank from having their little moment was perhaps a cruel thing to do, but it was the least of my worries. I was just bidding time, waiting for everyone to fall asleep before I began my search for the files on Shaw. This was CIA after all; they had to have something, anything I could use.
Locating the files on Shaw had been a little easier than I had expected. They weren't hidden; not even under watch.
Seems Moira had let her guard down and the cabinets filled with files had remained unlocked. It was almost teasing to put them there just in reach and not expect me to lift them.
It's what I wanted, what I need. I'd been searching for Shaw and now at the tips of my fingers was an entire file on him. It was with the greatest of ease that I pulled the file out from the cabinet.
Everything I needed to know was here, conveniently labeled in this manila folder.
'Shaw, Sebastian
File No. 118470'
Staring at the label once more I allowed a slight smirk to find its way to my lips. Placing the folder in my briefcase a sigh of relief leaves my lips as I hear the locks click. The folder is safe now; confined to my own briefcase I had brought to the compound with me. The only option left now is to leave.
We were supposed to be confined to headquarters; it seems Charles had upset some CIA officials who didn't take kindly to finding out about the existence of mutants. 'Then again I've never been one to follow rules,' I think as I close the door behind me silently.
Slipping on my leather jacket I make my way to the glass doors that lie at the front of the compound. They're 20 feet away, 20 feet and then freedom. Yes, freedom, and sweet revenge.
I've made it this far with out anyone noticing that I'm running, no not running, just not staying here. I had more important things to do than be confined under CIA watch. I reach the door and automatically quicken my pace; there's no need to be caught now.
Maybe I'm too focused on the contents of my briefcase, or just worried about reaching the car before I warrant unwanted attention, but whatever the reason I don't pick up on the fact that I'm not alone out here.
The shuffling of feet should tip me off to the fact that someone is outside with me, but it's not until I hear the voice that is suddenly becoming all too familiar that I still.
"From what I know about you, I'm surprised you've managed to stay this long."
My grip tightens on the handle of the briefcase. 'What I know about you?' The presumptuous response angers me, what could he possibly know?
Turning around slowly I fix my gaze on Charles, feeling a slight frown form on my lips I ask evenly "what do you know about me?"
The man has the smuggest look I've ever seen and rather than be intimidated by my steely gaze I'm fixing him with he just smirks.
"Everything," he replies sounding rather self-satisfied with his declaration.
'Ah yes, a telepath.' The thought of my own mind being invaded by another on a whim infuriates me and before I can process what I'm saying the words are tumbling out from my mouth rather bitterly.
"Then you know to stay out of my head." There's an underlying edginess bordering on the line of a threat and a mere suggestion in my words, and I figure Charles will pick up on it and just drop his crusade to talk me out of leaving so I turn away from him.
I'm wrong; on both accounts.
I've taken no more than two steps when I hear the clicking of shoes on the pavement and Charles' voice soon follows.
"I'm sorry Erik, but I've seen what Shaw did to you."
I stop, grounded in place. Not many things would have made me freeze, but Charles seems to have picked the one thing that would. My past is shaky at best; I have my demons I know that and I would never wish on anyone to have to relive the horrors I have gone through.
"I've felt your agony," he continues, stretching out the word agony. He sounds pained and I stiffen at the words he has to offer. "I can help you."
It's when I hear those words that I regain control. 'Help, how can he possibly do that?' I scoff as I let the words sink in; who does this man think he is?
"I don't need your help," I bite out, a little more roughly than I should have, as I turn to face Charles. I leave the 'I work alone' unspoken.
He still doesn't seem to grasp what I'm trying to say and instead launches into a final attempt of reason.
"Don't kid yourself. You needed my help last night. It's not just me you're walking away from," he speaks, the words coming off a little cold; the firm grasp he's had on his composure is fracturing slightly.
He's silent now and I think he's finally done, perhaps realized he's not going to get through. Instead he takes two steps closer to me and continues in more reserved tone.
"Here you have the chance to be part of something much bigger than yourself."
I swallow nervously but don't say a word. I don't trust myself to speak, so rather I continue to stare at Charles with what I assume is a mask of indifference.
He finally seems to understand he can't sway me from leaving, because now he is ducking his head breaking away from my gaze.
"I won't stop you from leaving," he finally states locking eyes with me as the words leave his mouth. "I could," he continues, nodding for emphasis. It's not quite a threat, more a reminder and I know it's true. "But I won't," he adds softly as he begins backpedaling.
He turns around heading for the door and I allow myself to watch him go thinking about what he's said. He's left me with the ball in my court, but suddenly the rules seem to have changed. He's giving up on reasoning with me and I have to wonder if this is the same man who jumped in without a second thought to pull me out of the water and keep me from drowning.
He's nearly at the door when he calls out "Shaw's got friends. You could do with some."
I pull my eyes away and turn back to the parking lot allowing my feet to carry me forward and continue my mission. I take a few steps before I falter.
Looking between the compound and parking lot I sigh in frustration before walking back to the door.
'Never reason with a telepath.'
Once inside I make for the room with the cabinet, reluctantly I pull out the files on Shaw and place them back where I found them. I'll get my opportunity, but right now there are other things I can do.
It's nearly nine in the morning and I haven't seen Charles since our talk last night. I've made it a point to remain out of sight; instead I've been wandering the compound trying to learn a little about the place.
I'm not sure where I've wandered to, but I notice one of the doors in the corridor I'm standing in is pushed open. There's talking going on, and normally I wouldn't eavesdrop, but the words I hear coming from the room intrigue me.
"…so it could enhance your telepathic powers, help us find other mutants for our division."
It's a private conversation, that much is certain, but I can't help myself from walking in to the door a question poised on the tip of my tongue. "What if they don't want to be found by you," I ask pointedly. It's then that I notice that Charles is in the room sitting opposite of that CIA guy in charge of this division.
"Erik," he replies. He seems genuinely surprised to see me, and it almost hurts to think that he believes I would desert so easily. "You decided to stay," he adds his lips curving slightly in a small smile.
I offer him a polite nod. Yes, I am staying.
"Although you think I cope my head is filled with hope of someplace other than here…"
The words pierce through Rogue's sleep muddled brain and soon she finds herself blinking her eyes open. Her lashes flutter rapidly as her eyes adjust to the light shining in from her bedroom window.
Sitting up in bed Rogue looks at the clock poised on her nightstand.
8:35
Surprised that she had actually fallen asleep she made a mental note never to criticize the idea of counting sheep again. Shutting off her alarm Rogue felt a surge of happiness fill her, her sleep hadn't been fitful in the least bit.
Replaying tonight's memory in her head Rogue lifted her hand to her lips. For the first time in weeks she smiled and it was completely genuine.
'He had stayed.'
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A/N: In case anyone is curious, the song that wakes Rogue up is Distant Dreamer by Duffy, its a very beautiful song, and I thought it somehow fit with her situation
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