Author’s Note: EEK!!!!! Time has certainly slipped away from me,
hasn’t it? Evo’s Season 3 premiere
is coming up fast, and my story’s not finished yet! Looks like I’d better get on the stick
on this one, before my theory’s shot to Hell. It’s all your fault, Lord R! ::points:: You and your sweet lips and your soft
hair and your sexy knees and your amazing eyes… I’d better not take this any
further. I know I’m writing erotica
here, but there’s some things that the rest of you readers just don’t need to
know. Anyway, hopefully I’ll get
this finished before the WB shoots my plot full of holes!
Translations: Katzenjammer (from Chapter Six)-
hangover
Ich am leben bin- I’m alive! (tone equals ‘you’re so happy I’m alive,
you’re gonna kill me! Quit
it!’)
Liebschon- beautiful love (different from liebschen, which means little
love)
Mein blau flauschig elf- my blue furry elf (just in case anyone misses
where it’s translated in the text)
Spaetzel- a very nummy version of mac’n’cheese made in
Bavaria.
This story takes place after
“Day of Reckoning”. It is erotica,
and therefore is not for the eyes of those under 18 or easily offended by sexual
situations, homo- or hetero-.
X-men: Evolution is the
property of the WB, Marvel comics, and several people that I’m probably
forgetting. You can’t sue me! I don’t have any money anyway, so it
wouldn’t do you any good. :-P There
are also random songfic elements to this story; the songs used (plus a few
others for good measure) are listed below and belong to their respective artists
and recording companies. If you do
not have these songs or have never heard them, AudioGalaxy is a free peer-to-peer mp3 site
where they can likely be downloaded.
I especially recommend the songs by Anathema, Godgory, Linkin’ Park,
Depeche Mode, Poe and Nickelback as theme music for Wanda.
Comments, questions, and
favorable reviews are encouraged.
Criticisms that are phrased civilly will be taken under advisement. Flames will be fueled with napalm and
returned, causing the offending keyboard to melt internally and be unable to
manufacture any further unchivalrous nonsense. You have been
warned.
Recommended Musical
Accompaniment: Play the Game-
Motorhead
It Doesn’t Even Matter- Linkin’ Park
Angry Johnny- Poe
Blasphemous Rumors- Depeche Mode
Dogma- KMFDM
How You Remind Me- Nickelback
Torpedoes- MDFMK
Empty- Anathema
Conspiracy of Silence- Godgory
Last Note of Freedom- David Coverdale
Nothing Else Matters- Metallica
Can I Touch You… There- Michael Bolton
To The Moon and Back- Savage Garden
Rogue.
The voice echoed softly in the haze. Rogue wanted to ignore it. Life wasn’t worth hanging around for…
not without love, without companionship.
The darkness yawned beneath her… it would be so easy to let herself
sink…
Come back, Rogue…
It coaxed her now, drawing her attention from the beckoning abyss. But it wasn’t fair; she had nothing to
come back for…
My Rogue, come back to me…
Inexorably, Rogue found herself pulled away from the dark. Light gently prodded at her
consciousness, waking her with a soft groan of protest.
“That’s it, dear. It’s time
to wake up, little one.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Rogue opened her eyes. She recognized her room immediately; the
familiar surroundings soothed her.
Two women were seated near her.
One she knew only by brief introduction; the elder, not at all. Wanda was sitting at the foot of her
bed, her expression quiet and concerned.
The elderly woman sat in the chair by her window, calm and composed and
commanding of respect. Slowly,
Rogue pushed herself into a sitting position. “What happened?”
“Many things,” Agatha replied softly. “What do you
remember?”
“Not a lot. It’s sorta…
hazy. I remember the tests… getting
blasted… and then Kurt and Pietro.”
Her eyes went wide and she sat up a little straighter. “Kurt!”
“He’s fine,” Wanda promised her softly. “Lance and my brother are taking care of
him.”
That voice, quiet and soothing, drew Rogue’s attention. The few words that Rogue had heard Wanda
speak during their brief acquaintance had always been spoken in a tone of
carefully controlled rage. The
woman curled at the end of her bed seemed to be perfectly calm, gazing at her
with quiet intensity. Rogue found
herself blushing faintly in the face of such regard. No one had ever looked at her quite that
way before. Agatha missed none of
this silent exchange. “How do you
feel, child?”
“Better. What
happened?”
“As I said, many things; most of which Wanda and your friends would be
better suited to explain than I.”
Agatha stood and walked to the bed.
For a long moment, she held Rogue’s gaze; Rogue had the peculiar
impression that Agatha was seeing directly inside her. The elder woman then opened a pouch on
the nightstand. “Rest for at least
the next two days; light exercise only if you feel restless. Drink this tea with breakfast and before
sleeping at night. If you feel at
all unwell after two days, Wanda knows how to contact me.”
“Thank you,” Rogue replied softly.
Agatha smiled softly. “Be
well, little one. Everything will
work out.” Giving Wanda a fond
touch on the shoulder, she left to inform the adults of Rogue’s
awakening.
Glancing back at Wanda, Rogue couldn’t help noticing that those cerulean
eyes were once again watching her.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, having that quiet gaze upon her, but it was
definitely… warm. Flushing a little
redder, she offered a soft smile.
“You called her to help me?”
“Agatha is a shuv’hani. I
could think of no one better suited to help you.”
Stumbling over the unfamiliar word, Rogue blinked. “A… what?”
“Shuv’hani: a wise woman,
versed in the Romani arts of magic and healing.”
“Magic?” The serious
expression on Wanda’s face seemed to belie Rogue’s
skepticism.
A faint smile curled Wanda’s lips.
“There is an element of magic in all healing. Agatha has helped me to gain some
control over my anger with Magneto, and therefore to control my abilities. I trust her, and I thought her skills at
soul-healing might come in handy… in case you didn’t want to come
back.”
Rogue looked away, uncertain of how to take the idea that Wanda knew
about her hopelessness. It was
easily guessed, after all, given her mutant powers and tendency towards Gothic
expression; as another Goth, Wanda no doubt had simply made a logical
guess. But there was something
about those cerulean eyes… as clear and blue as a summer sky… “So, what’d I miss?” she asked softly,
attempting to change the subject.
“Not much, really: Lance and
Cyclops alternate between tentatively getting along and openly going for each
other’s throats, my brother has remembered who he is and is no longer my
father’s lapdog/spy, and Lance and Kurt have been rather passionately involved
for the past two nights.” Wanda
tried not to smile at Rogue’s adorably startled expression, opting in the same
instant not to inform her about Mystique’s destruction of the Institute or its
subsequent restoration. Rogue still
looked tired, and that would be far too much to absorb after such a shock to her
system. “What? You thought Cyclops and Avalanche might
actually get along?”
Wanda’s innocent question and wry expression actually made Rogue
chuckle. It was nice to see Wanda
acting more like a normal teenage woman than a raging sociopath. “Y’all have to be jokin’ about Kurt and
Lance. Lance was after
Kitty.”
“Between my brother and now the elf, Lance has apparently forgotten about
his infatuation with her entirely.
It was little more than that, anyway. He and my brother were having a few…
difficulties outside of the bedroom, and Lance is a classic neglected
child: unless offered a permanent
source of unconditional love and affection, he will seek it wherever he can get
it. Until he and I reconciled, my
brother was unable to deal with the ramifications of falling in love with
someone like Lance. Now he
is.”
“But what about Kurt?” Rogue asked softly. “Now that Pietro’s okay with loving
Lance…”
Those soft, scarlet lips curved in the slightest of knowing smiles. “My brother already knows what he must
do. Everything will be fine. Would you like me to go check on Kurt
for you? I’m sure your friends will
come streaming in here at any moment, wanting to assure themselves that they
weren’t hallucinating when Agatha told your guardians that you were
recovered.”
Something about that smile… Rogue shook herself mentally. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Wanda replied.
She stood and walked out, pausing once at the door. “If you need anything, my room is right
next door.”
“Since when do you live here?” came Rogue’s startled
reply.
“Since Lance decided that Mystique might not have the best interests of
the Brotherhood at heart. He didn’t
like the idea that her agenda might get the people closest to him killed.” Glancing for a moment at something in
the hall, she smiled softly back at Rogue.
“The girls appear to be the first wave. I’ll go see to Kurt.” Leaving the door open, Wanda slipped
into the hall and up the stairs.
It wasn’t until after the chaos of relieved reunions had settled into
minor hoopla that Storm was able to draw Wolverine and Beast aside. Closeting themselves in the Professor’s
study, Storm gave both men a swift embrace of relief. “I’m glad to see you’re both
safe.”
“Apparently, things have only gotten more complicated,” Beast
surmised. “Where is
Charles?”
“We have no idea,” Storm reported gravely. Gesturing for them to sit down, she took
a swift, steadying breath. “At some
point before we left for the supply yard, Charles was either lured away or
simply kidnapped. Mystique was
masquerading as Charles during the confrontation.”
“Which explains why you all pulled back without picking up the
others.” Wolverine’s voice was
little more than a snarl, but Storm knew him well enough to know it was of fury
with Mystique rather than reproach towards she and the teens. “What else was she up
to?”
Still unsettled by the memory, Storm took a deep breath before
answering. “Somehow, she sent the
Institute’s computers to Defcon 4.
Scott was able to get the other students out and into Cerebro’s
protective sphere, but the Institute was destroyed.”
Wolverine and Beast were both so startled by the statement that for a
moment neither spoke. “Seems pretty
solid to me,” Wolverine mused cautiously.
“I still don’t know how she did it,” Storm replied, “but Wanda was able
to use her powers to… I suppose replace it is the proper word. She talked about creating a fold in
space-time and letting a copy slip through. I don’t suppose you have any insights,
Hank?”
For a moment, Beast considered it.
Storm and Wolverine could see the possibilities and theories and likely
explanations tumbling in his mind as he got up and paced. “There have been theories tossed around
by the academic community for years that time and space are intimately
connected. The notion of perceiving
them as a fabric is a popular one, and one of the easiest to use when explaining
certain concepts to laymen; given the universal familiarity and tactility, even
the most uneducated mind can grasp some of the rudimentary ideas… if one
explains it patiently. This in turn
has created abundant fodder for the science fiction community: the idea that space-time is a fabric
lends itself quite handily to the idea that those with the right powers and
extrasensory perceptions can manipulate it on various levels. Some of the most popular science fiction
serials have been rather adept at depicting such scenarios: Star Trek and
Quantum Leap, to name the best known.”
“So when does science fiction become just weird science?” Wolverine
asked.
“That depends. Charles did
mention that Wanda’s powers, at least so far as he’d seen them demonstrated,
involve the spontaneous alteration of the laws of probability. Probability is actually a series of
careful calculations based on what are considered to be the immutable constants
of space and time; we’re talking about anything from the laws of molecular bonds
to gravity, Einstein’s theory of relativity to the speed of light. Everything that modern science is based
upon rests on these pillars. But if
Wanda’s abilities do in fact allow her to alter probability, then what she’s
really doing is altering those laws… altering the basic functions of
space-time itself. It’s not a
long step between that and manipulating space-time on as large a scale as you’re
saying she’s done.”
“She did it,” Storm asserted softly. “Everyone here saw the devastation when
we returned; Scott and the younger students tried desperately to avert the
explosion before they were left only with the option of taking cover inside
Cerebro. The next night, she
restored it.”
“If that’s true,” Beast mused, “then she’s even more powerful than
Charles anticipated… and she’s gained a control over those abilities that
Magneto never expected her to accomplish.
If he had known she would ever be capable of this, I highly doubt he
would have locked her in that sanitarium.”
“You think this Agatha woman’s got a hand in that?” Wolverine asked. “Maybe Bucket-head never expected her to
show up and get the kid calmed down.”
“I’ve spoken with Tabitha about that. She told me that Agatha was with
Mystique when she recruited Wanda for the Brotherhood,” Storm replied. “She is a Romani wise woman, and
obviously well-trained in magicks.
I doubt Magneto had anything to do with her intervention. Pietro told me that Agatha trained Wanda
in the use of her mutant powers as well as Romani magicks since she arrived, and
has defused Wanda’s rage on more than one occasion… although that hasn’t been a
problem here.”
Wolverine quirked an eyebrow.
“You slippin’ the kid tranqs or something?”
“No. Pietro came straight
here when he escaped Trask’s bunker.
Unlike before, I sense no hostility between them. I’d say that nearly losing his twin
sister has brought Pietro to heel, and it’s fairly obvious that Wanda is the
dominant. That may have been
another reason for her imprisonment:
her father didn’t believe that he would be able to control her, and knew
that he would be unable to control Pietro utterly so long as she still had an
influence over him. Removing her
from Pietro’s life allowed Magneto to properly train Pietro as Pavlov did his
dogs: the perfect foil in his
plans, jumping whenever Magneto snaps.”
“You think she’s got the kid deprogrammed?” Wolverine asked
carefully.
“I see no reason to believe otherwise. She’s made several statements indicating
that Pietro now knows where he belongs; I can only presume that means acting as
a proper submissive twin and trusting her judgment. Given her hatred of Magneto, I doubt she
will ever again allow Pietro within ten feet of their father, and when it comes
to twins, the force of the dominant’s disapproval is more than enough to deter a
submissive from doing something the dominant doesn’t
like.”
Beast nodded. “What about
the battle itself? I saw more than
one new chopper hovering around that Sentinel; how much fallout has there
been?”
“Well, no one’s been picketing the Institute, if that’s what you
mean. No incidents of vandalism…
but the superintendent did call a few days ago. Apparently, Principal Kelly has fully
disclosed all information he has on the students which are hosted by the
Institute to the school board, and in the interests of everyone’s safety, both
our students’ and the rest of the student body, the superintendent has requested
that none of the students return to school for the remainder of the
year.”
Wolverine snarled; Beast looked stunned. “They can’t do that; the rights of
minors to have a public education is a matter of federal law! Forcing the students to withdraw at this
point will ensure that all of them fail the year from the sheer amount of days
missed; everyone will have to be held back; Scott and Jean are due to
graduate!”
“I did raise all of those objections; he told me that Professor Xavier
will have to meet with him to reach an agreement on a fair way to keep everyone
at the same level. Unfortunately,
the Professor isn’t here to do so.”
Storm cocked her head for a moment, gazing curiously at Beast. “Unless you’d care to do
it.”
“I can’t,” Beast refused, a snarl creeping into his voice. “I highly doubt that the blue fur would
be overlooked.”
“Forge can whip you up a holowatch,” Wolverine injected. “It’s either that, or wait until we find
Charles again… which could take months.
We haven’t got too many options here, Hank.”
Growling softly, Beast looked from one to the other, then nodded. “First thing in the morning, I’ll ask
Forge to start on the holowatch.
Right now, I think we all need some sleep. It’s been a long
day.”
Rogue came out of her room the next morning eager for a shower and a
decent breakfast. Waking up to her
Depeche Mode CD was such a welcome sound that she lingered in
bed for three full tracks before slipping out of the sheets; at least she’d been
excused from today’s early morning martial arts training. Agatha’s instructions had apparently
been communicated to the others, allowing her to take today and tomorrow
off. Not that I’ll let ‘em cut
me any slack when I go back to the routine. Jus’ ‘cause I been hit by a blight don’t
mean this steel magnolia’s wiltin’.
Grabbing her robe and a towel, Rogue rushed to the showers, her only
desire in that instant to wash the sterile scent of imprisonment out of her hair
and begin to take her life back.
Her shower took longer than she’d anticipated. Once she was under the hot water, the
steam billowing around her, Rogue found herself just lingering there. Hugging her chest, she watched almost
blindly as the water ran in smooth, wide rivers over her shoulders, across her
breasts, pooling and eddying in the fold of her elbows… it caressed her almost
as a lover might, touching her body in ways that no human ever could… which was
why she had been kept sedated. New
memories, vaguely bouncing around in her mind, told her that Trask’s men had
discovered the nature of her mutant powers. There was no doubt in her mind that if
Pietro and Kurt hadn’t come when they had, she would never have woken
up.
But what’s it worth to wake up, when the only place anyone can touch
me is in my own dreams? They care
‘bout me, else they wouldn’ have come after me… but at least that way I wouldn’
have felt anythin’. I just woulda
slipped away… nothin’ would hurt anymore…
Shaking herself, Rogue pushed away such dark thoughts. She was still alive, and she had a
responsibility to her friends.
Someday, she would have the luxury of indulging in her need to end it
all, but now was not the time to abandon her friends and teammates… especially
not now. With almost savage vigor,
she scrubbed her body until her skin was almost raw, washed her hair, and
snapped off the shower. It was time
to get things back to normal.
Not that things will ever be normal around here… the boys have moved
in, Scott and Jean are together, and people hafta know what we are now… I wonder
how many people saw us fightin’ that thing… and Trask’s makin’ more… nope, this
is one of them paradigms… nothin’s ever gonna be like it was, because
everythin’s changed so much.
Nothing’s ever gonna be exactly the same as it was… but we keep goin’
anyway.
Coming back down the hall to her room, Rogue was so preoccupied with her
own thoughts that she almost missed it.
Pausing a few steps from her door, she gazed down in wonder; on the
threshold of her room, perfectly centered on the little throw rug, was a single
fire and ice rose: purest white
tipped in blood red. The sight
brought a soft ‘O’ to her lips as she stepped closer and picked it up. The petals were soft as silk, the
fragrance heady and deep. It was an
incredibly sweet gesture… but who had given it to her?
There was no card attached.
None of the boys here had ever shown any interest beyond friendship; the
only one to have caught her fancy was Scott, but he had been little more than an
idle crush. He and Jean had always
been hopelessly into one another, even before their relationship had blossomed
in the aftermath of the battle.
Someone who couldn’t seduce him without killing him wasn’t going to have
any luck breaking them up. That
left the Brotherhood. It really
hadn’t surprised Rogue to find them among the X-men after what had happened, and
she was glad to have all of her friends safe and working together against
Trask. But even before their
relationship had begun, Lance and Pietro had been too interested in one another
to give her roses, and neither Todd nor Fred were really the type to do so. Unfortunately, that eliminated everyone
she knew…
But y’all don’ know Wanda.
The unbidden thought startled the Southern girl. True, she didn’t really know Pietro’s
Goth twin. Wanda had joined the
Brotherhood only two weeks before the attack, and Rogue, for obvious reasons,
didn’t make a habit of visiting.
Wanda might very well be interested in her. It seemed a bit strange that Wanda would
act on any kind of attraction, considering the fact that if Mystique hadn’t
apprised her of the X-men’s powers, including Rogue’s, the other boys would
have. Her situation precluded
almost all affectionate and erotic gestures. Shrugging as she walked into her room,
Rogue set the rose on her dresser and set about drying her hair. Later, she could ask Wanda about it,
warn her against the dangers of pursuing a relationship if her guess turned out
to be correct. Wanda seemed to be
considerably calmer than before the battle in the supply yard; perhaps if Rogue
approached her calmly and rationally, they could come to an amicable agreement
that Rogue was not a suitable object for romantic intentions. That was just how things were. Turning her CD player back on, Rogue
proceeded to get dressed in her favorite black corset and Lycra pants. After a moment’s thought, she pulled out
her favorite translucent green shirt and pulled it over her corset. The familiar feel of her clothes helped
erase the memory of being trapped in her battle spandex… but it was still a long
moment before she put on her gloves.
Instead, she sat at her mirror and put on her makeup, relishing her
ability to restore her Gothic appearance.
Girl of sixteen
Whole life ahead of her
Slashed her wrists, bored with life
Didn’t succeed; Thank the Lord
For small mercies
Fighting back tears
Mother reads the note again
Sixteen candles burn in her mind
Then came the rain; It’s always the same
She falls down on her knees and prays
I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors
But I think that God’s got a sick sense of humor
And when I die, I expect to find Him
Laughing…
Sighing softly, Rogue just gazed at her appearance for a moment. She’d always liked this song, especially
when she’d discovered that her mutation prevented her from ever finding love,
from ever being really happy.
Reaching out, she tugged on her black leather gloves, her expression
grim. “Story of my life,” she
muttered softly. Standing up, she
retrieved the rose from the dresser and walked out, determined to get some
breakfast and then talk to Wanda.
It had been an anxious night for Lance. Fighting back drowsiness and fear with
equal ferocity, the rock tumbler had watched Kurt’s sleep through the entire day
and night, waiting for his elf to wake up.
Wisely, Pietro had stayed away; Lance wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do
if he saw Pietro right now. Damn
his gorgeous hide, anyway! Bad
enough he tried that fool thing… but to bring Kurt along… It was well past dawn when a soft moan
brought Lance in from the balcony and back into the nest. Kurt was shifting, almost searching for
him… “I’m right here, Kurt.”
Those pale eyes opened, sending a surge of relief rushing through Lance’s
veins. “Liebschon…” Kurt murmured
as his gaze focused on those worried brown eyes, set above enough baggage for a
month-long cruise. “You look
awful,” he commented.
A sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob left Lance’s throat. “Thanks, love… I’m glad you
noticed.” He then gathered Kurt so
tightly against him that the elf could barely breathe. Kurt struggled against the flattening
embrace, an elf-noise of startled protest escaping him. “Thank God you’re
okay.”
“Ja… Ich am leben bin… Lance…”
Finally, Kurt whapped the brunette in the head with his tail. “Lance, you’re squashing
me!”
Another nervous chuckle left Lance as he relaxed his grip; he wasn’t
ready to let go by any means. “I
just… you slept for so long…”
“I did the last time Rogue zapped me, too,” Kurt replied. Reaching up, he ran a soothing hand over
Lance’s face. “I’m fine, love… I am
not leaving you.”
Relief swept through Lance again, his eyes closing to relish the feel of
that silken fur against his flesh.
He’d never felt so comfortable… so loved… He was in the act of lowering his lips
to Kurt’s when Kurt’s stomach growled vociferously. The sound gave both of them pause, and
Lance opened his eyes with a small smile.
“Hungry, love?”
“I have not eaten since before dawn yesterday.” Kurt smiled ruefully. “I think my stomach did not want you to
make me forget that.”
The endearing admission earned Kurt a far swifter version of the kiss
Lance had been about to bestow.
“Then why don’t you stay right here while I go find something for
breakfast?” He smiled softly. “I do need to remember that mein blau
flauschig elf cannot live on passion alone.”
The spontaneous use of German surprised Kurt. “When did you learn to say
that?”
Lance smiled boyishly. “Did
I forget to mention that I took German as my foreign language
requirement?”
Kurt blinked a little. “But
you… it is not an easy language for non-Germans… and you’re not
exactly…”
“An A student?” Lance smiled
as Kurt blushed. “Don’t be
embarrassed, love; it’s true. But
the Spanish class filled up by the time I got around to making my schedule that
year, and I didn’t feel like learning French or Italian with a bunch of pudwacks
who just wanted to act like Valentino or Casanova for their girl. German was the only one
left.”
Snuggling closer, Kurt couldn’t help smiling a little. If Lance knew some rudimentary German,
maybe he would like to learn more… they could talk in his own language, maybe
even visit Germany together someday…
Trying to remember that Pietro was still a factor, Kurt tucked such
wooly-headed fancies into a corner of his mind. His relationship with Lance was by no
means a permanent situation… but being called ‘my blue furry elf’ in that low,
sexy voice still made his toes curl.
“They teach words like flauschig in American German
classes?”
It was Lance’s turn to blush at that one. “No… we actually called our teacher that
behind her back. She, uh… woulda
benefited from a closer acquaintance with a razor, if you know what I mean. Somebody looked it up in a
German-English dictionary.”
Kurt chuckled. “You are
terrible, liebschon.” Wrapping his
body around Lance’s a little tighter, Kurt’s tail slid up the length of that
broad, muscular back to ruffle his long sable hair.
“The worst,” Lance agreed, brushing his lips over Kurt’s again. “But… I should go fix you something to
eat. Is there anything you’d
prefer?”
“Spaetzel… but I doubt you know how to make it, so don’t worry about
it.” Kissing Lance warmly, Kurt
smiled. “Something warm will be
fine.”
“No problem.” Lance slid out
of the nest reluctantly, brushing the hair from Kurt’s eyes as Kurt nestled into
a comfortable position in the nest.
“I’ll be back in a little while; just get some rest,
okay?”
“Ja… Lance?”
“Yeah, Kurt?” Lance paused
at the door, turning to meet the pale eyes gazing at him from the
nest.
“I love you.”
The sound of the words, spoken freely and without a sexual premise,
nearly made Lance’s knees buckle.
It felt so good to hear them…
“I love you, too, Kurt. Just
get some rest.” Quickly, he slid
out and closed the door behind him, taking a few deep, steadying breaths before
he walked down to the kitchen.
He never noticed the shadow crouched just behind the hall table behind
him. Never noticed, in the midst of
his tangled emotions, the breath of air that followed him to the elevator caused
by a lithe figure dashing soundlessly into the room he’d just
left.
A/N: Now I know I’m being evil, but just
because I have to type faster doesn’t mean I’m making this creation any
shorter. Stick around! I promise it’ll be worth the
wait.