Title: Any Other Way
Rating: PG13
Category: Shipper
Summary: “I was wrong when I thought there was no other way for me, there was, and it surprised the hell out of me”
Disclaimer ** Wolverine and Rogue and all the x men belong to Stan Lee, Marvel Entertainment, and 20th Century Fox.
I own nothing – I just borrow them but I always give them back!**
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Imagine waking up one morning and not being able to remember a damn thing about yourself or your life. You open your eyes and you look around but you don’t know where you are or even why your there. You feel yourself as you blink or yawn, maybe you stretch and move and you can remember doing those small little things but other than that there’s nothing. Is your imagination good enough? – I bet not. I seriously doubt anyone has the mental creative ability; the normal mind would automatically drift to things it knows. Even I can’t imagine that scenario because it in no way compares with what did happen to me. I didn’t wake up in a nice cosy bed, having the time to try and work out what happened. I woke up drowning in a tank full of putrid smelling liquid, my lungs burning with need for oxygen, my bones feeling like they were on fire. My subconscious trying to scream information into my conscious but my conscious remaining full of confusion. The image is bad enough, the reality horrific and I assure you your imagination could not cope.
One of the first things I do remember was the feeling of so much agonising pain accompanied by sheer terror. Most people no doubt have experienced pain in some form or another whether physical or emotional maybe even both and maybe even at the same time but the pain I woke up feeling has no words to describe just how extreme it was. The same goes for being frightened, everyone on the planet must have felt scared or frightened at some point in time but pure terror is a different story altogether. I was taken to hell whilst still alive and somehow brought back to relive it over and over again.
I must have had a name, a home, maybe a family, a life of some sort, good or bad it would have been me, my life and it would have been something but it was all gone. I was left only with dreams, flashbacks that were and are still my only link to myself and what I was but they tend to stick just to the one particular timeframe, concentrating on what those bastards did to me. So they’re all about the constant never ending torture, and the immense sadistic pleasure they all took in each and every ounce of pain they created for me. Heinous things that my mind understandably and thankfully let me forget; if only during waking hours. My only consolation comes from knowing that most of them were dead before I left the building, the rest being not long for the world and knowing that my mind is still capable of imagination so I can create pictures of myself in graphic detail killing them over and over again and taking my time in doing so. Just once though it would be nice to be free of it all if only while I’m asleep – just a small glimpse of something that was better, anything that let me escape from the pain - I wouldn’t even care if it wasn’t real.
You might think that my way of life is all about survival, its not though. It’s the only way I know how to keep what little sanity I have left. My body survives of its own free will, it has nothing to do with me, my unique little so called ‘gift’ takes care of that for me, it gives me no choice, if it did maybe survival would have ended for me a long time ago. Sanity on the other hand is in my control to a certain degree and living the way I do – alone – is my way of keeping a hold of it. Paranoia is a great asset I hold – It makes me careful, cautious, keeps me vigilant and keeps anyone or anything from taking me back to hell. So I live my life this way, my body surviving, my mind just about holding on. It’s not the life for many, but it works for me which is good because I don’t think there’s any other way.
Then I met her and everything went to pot. She turned my safe little cocoon of a world upside down and back to front and all I did was picked her up and gave her a ride. Don’t ask me why I picked her up cause I have no idea. I’ve never done it before or since, she’s the only one. Id love to say that it was a huge mistake and that I’ve regretted it. But I can’t.
Most men will tell you that they don’t understand women. I just don’t understand people in general, or maybe I don’t want to is probably closer to the truth. I don’t let anyone near me; I don’t trust anyone and I suppose without that you can’t be expected to understand them completely. Don’t get me wrong there are certain things I understand with perfect clarity – I can tell if your honest or lying or whether your afraid etc. I understand desperation, loss of hope or belief, desire and dread. I understand a lot of what makes people act the way the do in different situations. I understand the need to stay alive. My senses help me to understand all the things I need to know for my way of life. I didn’t understand her one bit.
Seeing my claws has an immediate effect on everybody. Shock comes first closely followed by fear and then comes panic as a need for self preservation kicks in. I’m hanging on by the thinnest of threads and it shows, I’m not one to be messed with, I’m scary and I seem to exude some kind of ‘run and save yourself’ vibe and everyone with half a brain cell can see it immediately. She seemed to be smart, wouldn’t have survived otherwise yet there she was not leaving. Me I understand – How people see me I understand even more but she blew everything I thought I knew right out of the water so to speak. She knew what I was yet she ran to me as opposed to away from me. She wasn’t the least bit scared of me only scared for me and that right there was something completely foreign. I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t understand it now but I wouldn’t have it any other way. She was my little glimpse of something better. Ok it wasn’t from before but I’d take what I could, and it happened while I was awake too. Definitely not a dream which made it even better. She was something special that much I did understand.
She was oozing with some kind of genuine caring nature and for some unknown reason she was throwing it all in my direction and unknown reasons must have been floating about cause for the life of me I couldn’t work out why it didn’t bother me. I just couldn’t seem to care. I should have been on high alert, maybe she was after something, maybe my senses were shot, maybe my sanity or what little was left of it had finally had enough and left me. Whatever it was that happened that day, whatever the reasons for it, the one thing I do know was it was the first time that I remembered that I felt trust.
We ended up at Chuck’s home for waifs and strays, a mansion filled to the brim with society’s outcasts. Mutants of all shapes and sizes, all with their own truck load of baggage but all seemingly more than happy to help everyone else with their particular ‘problems’. Anyone new was welcomed with open arms no questions asked. It was the perfect answer for Marie, a homely atmosphere for those with no actual home to speak of and for someone who didn’t trust anyone (Marie now excluded from my interpretation of anyone) I got the distinct feeling that Chuck genuinely wanted to help them all. Of course that didn’t mean I agreed with all his opinions, the politics behind Mutant/Human relations was not for me. Looking after number one had worked fine for me in the past and that’s the way I wanted it to stay. Despite him trying to convince me otherwise I declined his offers of help for me. I did however make him promise to do all he could for Marie. She would be cared for, loved and given opportunities that she wouldn’t necessarily have gotten even if she’d been able to stay at home. She’d have the chance to live her life any way she chose. She was something special, my little piece of something better and she deserved the kind of life I couldn’t have. She had the chance to be happy and how could I want that any other way.
I was back on the road, doing what I do best, surviving as always and keeping my sanity alive and kicking if only barely but this time I had company – not literally in the truest sense of the word it was just that she was always with me. I couldn’t forget her, no matter how hard I tried. Her voice, her smile, her compassion, she stayed with me and I’m not to proud to admit that it was comforting in a way which was definitely a first. She was ‘in’ whether I’d let her or whether she’d pushed in without permission I don’t know I just knew that for me and my way of life it was yet another first.
So I’d find myself calling every now and again to check up on her, make sure she was ok and that she was happy because for some strange and yet again unknown reason knowing that she was happy made me happy too. Another first. Occasionally if I was in one place long enough we’d exchange letters. They were the worst and the best. It’s easier to write things you wouldn’t necessarily say on the phone and even words that were often said when written down in black and white seemed to mean so much more. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She’d tell me how much she worried about me and most of all how much she’d missed me – and I’d find myself missing her too which was definitely another first. It occurred to me that it wasn’t just that she was no longer just special to me and I was somehow god knows why more than just special to her, It was that she made me feel full stop. I never realized it before but I was a complete shell, void of anything and everything that lets you actually live and she was highlighting that fact. There were too many firsts happening and I wanted to go back to the way things were before we’d met when everything seemed easier because there was just nothing, a complete blankness about my life but too much had changed already and I realised that I shouldn’t be wishing it any other way because it actually felt good. My own little revelation, no more going back and that was that.
Our conversations after that were more frequent. I accepted that my life included someone else and it wasn’t as hard as I thought. She made me smile, feel, and hope. So many firsts happening all too quick but acceptance is a wonderful thing It lets you cope with the unknown.
She was happy when we spoke but I began to get the feeling that it was only when we were speaking. So I asked her outright one day for a complete rundown of her life and her feelings. She’d never lied to me before and I knew she wouldn’t start now so we talked and the floodgates began to open up on both sides, hers and mine. We talked some more, she cried, she packed, 4 days later I picked her up and we left.
It seems that sometimes there is only one other person with the power to make you happy. For her that other person just happened to be me and it could have been a problem, this was a huge first but I was done with wishing things away and it seemed right somehow to use my recently acquired acceptance and move on. After all if I was honest with myself I felt exactly the same way, she made me happy. Some may think its wrong for your own happiness to be dependant on someone else but things were as they were and I didn’t want it any other way.
My life became our life. We travelled around, always together and it suited both of us. My sanity more intact than ever. I was wrong when I thought there was no other way for me, there was, and it surprised the hell out of me that it was so easy, it just happened and it just was as it was and I didn’t want to complicate it by thinking about it. The ‘firsts’ were coming even thicker and faster - things I never thought I’d ever feel, hear or say but she was becoming a part of me and it wasn’t long before it all seemed so natural. Life with her became what I wanted and life without her was just no longer a viable option. She’d changed me in every way possible and apparently somehow I’d done the same for her.
Happiness in abundance. Just me and her. If it hadn’t happened I’d have never believed it possible. I still dream but they’re not always nightmares any more and when they are she’s there doing what she does best – loving me. I don’t need a past anymore, she gave me a future instead and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I will be eternally grateful for whatever possessed me to pick her up that day, for whatever or whoever it was that made her the way she is, and to her for giving me a second chance to live.
I love her and I know without a shadow of doubt that our love and our life is something I will never want any other way.
The End
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Story Notes:
Ok, here are the excuses for the following: for those who’ve read my other fics you may know that I’ve been in hospital, well let’s just say that Morphine is a wonderful thing! This story began in my drugged up mind, afore mentioned mind couldn’t seem to let it go so it carried on through the not so good pill popping pain killer stage and I finally tried to get it written while stretched out recovering on the settee with no pain killers at all. Sitting at the computer is painful so mistakes while trying to get this posted are definitely all mine but I don’t care. Yes I know that seems an awfully long time to take to write a short little fic like this but hey I’M IN PAIN!!!!! When only able to write a few lines at a go these things take time and probably end up making no sense at all but knowing the effort it took I gave my self a gold star anyway!