Miles and Rogue, Wednesday morning

[x-otoxic.livejournal.com]

Miles goes to Rogue for help processing the deaths on Muir, particularly Matt's.


To say that the mansion was silent didn't fully capture the setting. It was mute. The hallways weren't empty, they were desolate. It was like the mansion had been stripped bare and sterilized. Miles realized that it was mostly because the X-Men were all either in the infirmary or down in their meeting room, and everyone else was pretty much locking themselves in their own rooms and hiding under their blankets. Miles had wanted to do that, too, after he'd spent 10 minutes staring in shock at his computer screen and the notification that people had died. Been killed. Slaughtered. He needed stronger synonyms to appropriately describe reality.

Matt was one of the dead. Sacrificed soldier. Murder victim. Clint was nowhere to be found, but Miles knew that he was the last person Clint wanted to talk to about his dead/departed/butchered brother. So Miles was wandering aimlessly down the cavernous halls until he found himself in front of the suite where Rogue lived. He'd never formally met the woman before, but she was the one who'd notified the school about the attack/war/onslaught at Muir Island, and he'd heard nothing but kind things about her, so maybe she could talk. He knocked gently on the door and waited for her response.

After ensuring Kane and Logan were fine, and also ensuring that Cecilia had what she needed, Rogue headed to her suite so that she could change her clothes, get out of her blood stained leathers, and cry in the shower. Even though now wasn't the time to break down, she felt like she was walking on pins and needles. Magneto's death kept playing over and over again in her head, but she knew she needed to put that away. Now was not the time to deal with it. Not when so much else was going on.

She was in the middle of drying her hair when she heard the knock on her door. "It's open," she called out, putting the towel down. The only people she trusted to be gloveless around were in the medlab, so she thought it prudent to grab a pair. She hated making people feel uncomfortable. "Come on in."

Miles was a small person, only 5'5" and the kind of skinny that always made his abuelas fret that he wasn't eating enough, even though he scarfed down every treat they laid before him. He liked to think that he usually carried himself with some dignity that made him look taller, but even if that was true, it wasn't happening now. He felt small when he entered the room and couldn't bring himself to catch the woman's eyes for too long. "I'm sorry to bother you. I know I haven't really met you before but I'd really like to talk and you're the only person I could think of but if you're busy it's fine no problem I can come back later..."

This was a child in pain, she thought to herself, as she gave him a soft smile. Therapist mode on.

"I've got all the time in the world, Miles." Her voice was quiet, and matched his volume. She'd seen him around, knew he was friends with some of the younger kids, but hadn't spoken to him directly. "Would you like to sit down?," she asked, motioning to her arm chair. "There's no pressure here, by the way. This room is safe, and free of judgement, and my role is to listen to you. In fact, this might be the most I say."

"No, I really would like to hear someone besides myself talk," he said. He sat down on the chair but even as big and comfy as it was, it felt off. After a moment, he climbed up to sit on the back of the chair and crossed his legs. "I wanted to talk about what you wrote on the system. I know you can't tell everything. I'm not even an X-Men trainee yet even though I want to be. But I read about Matt and I just . . . he's my friend. What happened to him?"

Rogue sighed and leaned back on her bed, her arms supporting her weight. The one death he wanted to talk about was the one she felt the most for. Great.

"I wasn't on his team," she began. "I was on the front-line. Heavy hitter, and all." She cleared her throat. "I got the message over the comms, about who was down and when. I think he died saving Jennie, but I'm not clear on that. I'm not gonna be a bitch and say he knew the risks going in, because no one expects to die like that, but he saved Jennie."

Miles hated himself for thinking that maybe this person he'd never met before should have bit it instead of Matt. But that was not what Matt died for and that's not what a good person, much less a hero, would think. So he shook his head and tried to dispel the invasive thought. "Are you allowed to say what you were up against? I know you guys have fought Magneto before. I seen that book that that guy wrote about him a few years ago. What was so different this time?"

How could she say something without betraying Jean? "We were up against more baddies than we've had to deal with before. And not jus' regular ol' baddies, but like ....hardcore ones." Rogue didn't even know how to say it properly. "These were trained mutant mercenaries who were going for a kill, and not to maim," she said bluntly. "We sent our best, and not everyone came home." Rogue hesitated slightly before continuing. "I don't think even Magneto knew what he'd signed up for."

There was so much that Miles didn't know or understand about the X-Men, their mission, or their history that he didn't know how to follow up on that, so he had to accept that this information, as meager as it was in the scheme of things, was enough for now. "I'm really sorry," he said, looking down at his hands which he'd folded on his lap. "I'm sure you're friends with all of them and it must be really hard for you."

"Miles," she said gently, "you have to understand: I've been doin' this a long time. This ain't my first rodeo, and this ain't the first time I've lost people. We're not here for me, although I appreciate the sentiment. I'm more worried about you right now." She tilted her head at him. "How are you dealing with this? You were also friends with them." Lots of young people had died.

"Matt's the only one I really knew at all. The others I've just kinda met in passing. But, you know, Matt was a cool guy. I didn't realize he was blind for the longest time." Miles chuckled despite his heavy heart. "I thought he just wore the glasses to look fresh. Then like a month after I met him, I saw him reading a braille book. I was so dumb."

Rogue gave a laugh at that. "I bet he sure found that funny. He was probably the most down to Earth person I'd ever met, and one heck of a friend." She smiled. "He liked to go flyin' with me."

Another pause passed between them comfortably before she spoke again. "How do you think he'd like to be remembered?"

He had found it quite amusing, and he'd even taken it in stride so Miles wasn't terribly embarrassed by his noobishness. His smile fell a little bit, though, and he wiped his eyes before he could stop himself. "He saved a life," Miles said hoarsely. "He'd want us to remember that. That's auto-Heaven. So maybe he's with his dad now." Miles couldn't help it; the thought that this action, this sacrifice, this good deed could have earned Matt the reward he so deserved broke the proverbial floodgates and Miles buried his face in his hands so Rogue couldn't catch him crying.

Rogue nodded her head, a sad smile on her face. There wasn't much she could say, but try to be a calming presence.

Sometimes words weren't needed. Instead, she got up, found a box of tissues and put it down on the chair by his feet. Then, she sat down and waited, happy to sit in silence for however long he needed.

Miles tried to mutter a thank you and took one of the tissues so he could blow his nose. "Sorry," he said finally, choking back a sob. "I don't know how to do this. And I didn't even know him that well. I haven't been here that long. Other people have to be mourning more."

"There's no right way to mourn, and there's no right way to grieve. The best piece of advice I can give you is to not compare yourself to others. Only you know how you're feeling." Rogue paused for a bit. "It's okay to own your emotions."

"I don't know what to do now. I want to help. I need to do something. Matt definitely wouldn't want me feeling sorry for myself."

Rogue sighed. Things were going to get a lot worse before they got any better, but she wasn't about to say that to him. "Do you like art? Music? Maybe doing something as a memorial would be a good way to work through this." She gave him another soft smile. "I think keeping busy is a good thing. Lorna might need help in the kitchen.."

Miles grabbed another tissue to dry his eyes. "Yeah, maybe I can help with that. Deliver food, maybe. No one wants to leave their rooms now. I'll...I'll ask her. Thanks, Rogue. I...thank you."

"Anytime, sugar. Text me if you need anything, doesn't matter the time. I ain't Logan," she added with a wink. "Not gonna bite your head off."

She reached out and touched his knee. "I'm not going to lie and say everything is going to be okay, but you'll get through this. It'll jus' take time."

He wasn't going to the last one who needed to work through this, but one by one, they all would get through it. they always did. And they'd do it as a team.