xp_logs | Rachel and Angelo, backdated

Rachel breaks into Angelo's apartment again, after he gets back from Minnesota, and isn't too pleased with what she finds.

Jimmying the lock as quietly as she could, Rachel pushed open the window, bottom lip caught between her lips. Her unknowing break-in victim should have been asleep by then, which made her arch a brow at his back when she spied him fumbling about in the kitchen. As silent as the darkest of nights, the psion crept up behind him, pausing to study him for a second before fingers darted out to tickle him at his sides.

"Way past your bedtime, little one!"

Angelo made a noise he would forever deny being a scream like a little girl, spun around and smacked his head on the cabinet. "Ow. Chis, you're still younger than me an' I thought you weren't breaking in anymore."

She giggled, reaching up to ruffle his bumped head. "I told you, it's more fu-- You look like shit."

"Thank you", he said dryly. "I'd say the frost giant looks worse, but last time I saw him he was a melting pile of ice, so he doesn't look like much of anything now."

"Um, what?" Incredulous, Rachel gave him the once over, taking stock of his injuries. Well, at least there were no missing limbs. "Since when did tangoing with frost giants become a fad? The hell are frost giants anyway?"

"You need to read up on your Norse mythology." He leaned against the counter, looking tired. "Short version is, Asgard's real, a bunch of us got kidnapped there years ago, that's where I got my sword, occasionally shit from there shows up here in Midgard. This time it was avatars of Thor and Loki, that bitch Amora and some really twisted murders in Minnesota. And jotunn. Giants made of ice, fighting for Loki."

"And you need to take care of yourself better, dummkopf," she retorted, visible annoyance disguising the worry that had welled up. Peering at the visible contusions on his skin, Rachel frowned and prodded none too gently at the largest one she could see on his arm. "Tha's screwed up. Why din'cha take gasoline an' a lighter and melt the damn things down 'fore they got to ya, huh?"

"No time", he said with a shrug. "They were just regular-sized bikers, looked human, then Loki did something and there's four ten-foot-tall things made of ice trying to kill us. So I stuck knives in its eyes, and then it knocked me off its shoulder before it died."

"Dumb," was all the girl said, sounding completely unsympathetic. "Well, t'least ya aren't dead. Has someone looked over your injuries?"

"Yes", he said patiently, holding up his hand in something not completely unlike a Scout salute. "Look, I even got my wrist set."

Quick as lightning, a hand darted out to deliver a sharp flick to his forehead. "You're not allowed to leave this apartment anymore."

Then spinning on her heel, Rachel stalked out to the couch she had claimed as her own and sat, crossing both arms and legs.

Angelo stood for a moment, blinking, then followed her.

"Kind of have to go to work, chiquita."

"You'd probably manage to kill yourself just opening your bloody office door," Rachel retorted, unaware that her sudden bout of annoyance was surprising Angelo. To her, it was an oft-rehearsed routine, performed each time a loved one got themselves hurt in the line of duty. "How'd you get involved anyway? "I thought you weren't X-Men."

"I'm not", he said with a shrug. "But I used to be, sometimes I get asked to help out if it's something I know a lot about. Like gang culture and Asgard."

He received only a head shake in response before she slouched back against the couch.

"Chis, this is our lives", he said quietly, dropping onto the couch a bit further along. "I went to what should have been a totally uneventful conference in Moscow once and wound up in the middle of a hostage situation. We're all trouble magnets."

"Sure." She swung her feet onto his lap, arms still crossed, and a muted glare still in place. "And one day that trouble will get us killed. Until then, and until I get home, you'll just have to deal with the fact that I'm gonna get pissed when you get hurt."

"Okay." He patted her feet absently for a moment. "But if I have to deal with that, you have to deal with me not hiding that I don't want you to go. And I know you have to, and it sucks."

How does one keep up a glare in the face of that? Rachel sighed, digging her heels into his thighs, unwilling to address his statement directly in fear that she might make a confession she was not willing to face. In fear that she might agree with him. So she made another confession in its place:

"Sometimes I worry that when I see you, I see my own jellybean. When I don't, I worry that I'm replacing my jellybean with you - a less scarred, less broken version of this guy whom I kept telepathic company with on raids. But you're both different people, and I would hate nothing more than to have you become like him. So the next time you're out playing with frost giants, you remember that, Angelo. Whether or not I'm here." Rachel inhaled, long and deep, vivid eyes bearing into his. "If you can do that, then I'll deal with whatever you throw my way."

Angelo had wrapped his hands around her feet as she spoke, almost as if he was holding her hands, and he listened carefully and nodded when she was done.

"I don't know what exactly happened to your jellybean to make him that way, even crazier than I am, and I'm guessin' I probably don't want to." He sighed and met her eyes, unflinching. "I don't want to die young, I don't go looking to get hurt, there's a hell of a lot more I want to get done before I die. But I don't abandon my friends when they need my help, however dangerous it might get, because they wouldn't abandon me. So we both know it might happen any time."

"Of course," she conceded, because really, what else was there to say? That was the only way she knew to live life - fearing for the death of others, and struggling through each fear that came through. She hadn't had to do that in the two months since she had arrived, but seeing Angelo's battered body had brought those fears back to life. The redhead sighed, throwing her upper body back in a full body flop against the couch, toes curling. "You're still an idiot."

"I know." He glanced over at her. "I love you too, y'know. You're not my little Ray, you're... you're Chistery, but I love you anyway."

At an obvious loss for words, Rachel pulled herself half upright, and in that awkward position stared at Angelo for a good half minute before pulling herself into a seated position, withdrawing her limbs to herself. "Shit," she swore softly. "You really don't want me to go home."

"I did tell you that", he said quietly, with a hint of dark amusement. "But I promise I won't do anything to get in your way. I'll even help if there's anything I can do, 'cause it matters."

"Sorry," she apologised, genuinely regretful. It'd been selfish to think that she was the only one forming attachments. "I shouldn't have put you in this position."

He shrugged slightly. "You came where you'd get help. I didn't have to let you in."

"Or offer me tequila," she reminded him solemnly. But she shouldn't have stuck around. Or continued imposing on his hospitality. Rachel sighed, propping her chin up on her palm to study his bruised face. But company was always a nice distraction from depression, and Angelo always made it easy to be around him. Like a comfortable, comforting presence.

"Or buy you tequila", he agreed with a wry laugh. "But hey, you're here now, it's a done deal. I don't want you backing off before you have to go 'cause you think it's... better, or something."

Rachel hummed noncommittally, then shifted so she could dump her head in his lap like a restless monkey with no sense of personal space.

Angelo laughed a little, accepting the sudden new intrusion, and patted her on the forehead.

"You been sleeping okay?" he asked suddenly.

A thoughtful expression crossed her face before she shut her eyes against his gaze. "That depends. What is sleep and what is okay?"

"Chistery", he said patiently. "I know what that means. You haven't been - at all, or just not well?"

"As well as I always have," she replied, nonplussed. Although Korvus - her Korvus - always seemed to be able to help her sleep. A completely moot point now, though. Opening one eye, Rachel peeked at Angelo. "S'not really something you can lecture me about."

"Be kind of hypocritical if I did lecture you when I sleep short nights half the time myself", he admitted, brushing hair out of her face. "But I can worry about you."

"That's counter-productive, jellybean," the redhead huffed, making a grab at his hand. "How's that supposed to induce a confession, huh?"

"I don't need a confession", he said calmly, letting her catch his hand. "You as good as gave me one with tryin' to be evasive, I can guess at why you don't without dragging up details."

"Then don't ask stupid questions," she retorted, tugging at his fingers.

"Okay, okay, point taken. I guess maybe I was hoping the answer might be 'just fine, thanks' and actually be true. Some people manage it."

"I don't lie unless I hafta," she said. "I can if you want me to. But being an insomniac has its perks. I made a new friend!"

"No", he said quickly, "no lying." He peered down at her. "A new friend? Who?"

"This kid," she stated, somewhat gleefully. "Blind boy." With a drug problem. "I stole his sandwich. And then he made me one the second time we met. It's kinda like our late night meet up thing."

"Oh, Matt." He grinned. "Yeah, he's a good kid. Little bit troubled, but a good kid. Kind of reminds me of me back in the day."

"Grumpy, defensive and an insomniac?" She joked.

Angelo snorted. "Check, check and check. Among other things."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Messed up teenage boy who's convinced the other shoe's gonna drop and sooner or later he'll get kicked out, and pushes the limits just to see if he can make that happen", was the matter-of-fact response.

"Eh, you turned out all right," she said with a shrug. "My new bratty friend will be fine too. Since I'm assuming he has a shrink an' all."

"Yeah, the Institute'll see him right", Angelo agreed. "Always does, one way or another."

"Uh huh." Rachel closed her eyes, idly tugging on the callused digits and marveling at how comfortable she was. "Nothin' to worry 'bout. Better things to scramble brains over. Like staying alive an' getting missions done."

"Usually tends to be the way, whatever kind of missions you do", he said wryly. "Even Elpis, that was supposed to be humanitarian aid, got hairy sometimes. Did I ever tell you how your dad and I got stuck in the middle of a mutant ghetto in Prague about this far from full-on revolution?"

"Nope. M'all ears," Rachel said, eyes still closed as she settled in for the tale. Almost as if she were nine again, snuggled up against her mother and ready to fall asleep to the bedtime story in Moira's soft Scottish brogue. Only this time, the teenager knew better than to expect the curling of Morpheus’ arms about her petite form.