She was so light. Small and slender--she wouldn't weigh very much. He'd known that, but hadn't ever held her like this. Even as deadweight, she was light.
It scared him to know that at seventeen she was as close to a soul mate as he'd find. Seventeen but so damned old inside. He hated that she knew what it was to struggle in your own body, to have the battle go on even after the fight had ended.
To know that there was no relief.
She was angry and bitter, struggling with the unfairness of it all, struggling with the fact that she wasn't growing up as the others were, that she had to grow up first, but still live at their pace. He could smell it off her every day. It made his knuckles itch, although right now all he could smell was exhaustion and pain.
They climbed into Charles's car, him laying her across his lap, resisting the urge to run his gloved fingers along her cheek. The other kids were watching with wide and worried eyes. Their fear stank up the limo, making him want to bury his nose in her neck, but he knew he would go insane with the smell of her so close and intimate. It was hitting them now, the truth of her mutation, just how badly it affected her.
What lived inside her.
His fingers crept around the back of her neck and to her jawbone. Looking at her face, he wondered if she knew that he wanted her with a desperation he couldn't remember feeling before. He wondered if she knew just how much he considered her his even if it rarely showed. They were so alike it made him ache. The few times they'd been alone together, talking and existing with each other, usually late at night, he'd come to see just how well they fit. He saw where they overlapped and where she fit into his losses and how he fit into hers.
He wished, selfishly, that he'd found her a few years from now. Wished that she was old enough for him to let her see what it was that he wanted from her. As it was, he feared she'd never see him as he knew she should. He feared she would lose herself before he ever got to her. Ever had his chance.
She stank of desire and sad longing around Scott. He caught her hunger as she watched Scott from the corner of the room, lips parted slightly, eyes wistful. It made him angry, and he was jealously grateful that the boy wanted only Jean. That the boy had Jean now.
He wondered if he could wait for her. He wondered if maybe things weren't about to change. She'd responded to him. He'd seen it and smelt it. Now, he just had to shift that response. It would be easy. So easy.
His fingers stroked her cheek absently, and he looked up and caught Chuck's look from across the back of the limo. His fingers stilled and then slid back to her neck.
He'd have to wait.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is set during the car ride back to the mansion after Rogue is rescued in "Self Possessed."