X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ Renegade Romances ❯ Home ( Chapter 7 )

Minimal cursing in this chapter. By “minimal” I mean I make her shout out the most horrible-est bad word of all.
((It's my favorite word of all.))

 

Renegade Romances

Chapter Seven: South

 

It was absolutely wonderful to be home.

 

Rogue felt it as she stepped into the borders of her home state, and even more so into her hometown. The cure to homesickness: go home.

 

Irene greeted her. She had never been “mom” or “mother” in Rogue's head for the mere fact that she was Irene, and calling her anything else seemed insult to the whole persona Irene held. On occasion the glimmer of the name Destiny arose, but no more than a glimmer, and Irene she was.

 

They opened warmly enough, Rogue settling back into a home so familiar that she'd grown so far away from. It was horrific that everything seemed slightly different, as if all the furniture had moved an inch to the left, and that inch was enough to make her stumble. The warmth of it all was still there, still flittering within her as she sat down with a cup of coffee to hear what her adopted mother had to say.

 

It would not be a happy story.

 

---

 

Rogue leaned over the glistening water, staring at the reflection of the house behind her, the large orbs the lights from the window made. Scratch that. Light. Irene had gone to sleep to let her “think on things.” Which meant: “I don't want to have to deal with this right now. I told you want you need to know. I'll tell you more tomorrow.”

 

So Rogue leaned over the water, stared into its surface, and screamed.

 

“FUCK!”

 

“Those're naughty words.”

 

She jumped, grabbing onto the railing. The voice made itself known, and she smiled.

 

“Then you won't have a problem with `em.”

 

He grinned, grabbing onto her sleeves and pulling her closer. She narrowed her eyes, worming out of his touch.

 

“Don't do that,” she said.

 

He locked a finger on her gloved one, a gesture to state the obvious. “And what will you be doing about it?”

 

She went back to staring into the water, and he stood beside her, pulling out a deck of cards. He began shuffling them idly, and she glared.

 

“Are you just here to annoy me?”

 

“Most certainly.” He picked up a strand of her hair, playing with it.

 

“You are such a stalker.”

 

“Maybe,” he answered, kissing the strand. “But I've gotta make sure you're not dead and buried.”

 

He left a card on the railing before he left. She picked it up, smiling.

 

The Queen of Hearts. He is far too predictable.

 

She went back inside, feeling slightly better.