a non-fluffy warren/amanda log

[x-angel.livejournal.com]

Warren gets offensive, Amanda gets mad. Amanda gets offensive, Warren gets defensive.


Life went on. Amanda was sitting out on the smoker's porch, a cigarette in one hand and a book in the other. She'd dragged the sand bucket over near her seat, and from time to time she stubbed out the spent butts, lighting another with a practised one-handed move. A mug of tea sat cooling next to her, unnoticed. She was so engrossed she didn't notice Warren's approach until he spoke.

"How are finals going?" Warren asked, lighting up a Marlboro. He plopped down next to her and peered over her shoulder. "What's this? History?"

"Hey, playboy," she said with a brief smile. "Sorta - me magic tutor's big on me learnin' the history of magic as well as the actual spells." She held up the book, showing him the cover: Rites and Magical Practices in Mexico and South America it read. "It's interestin', an' distracts me from all that in there."

Warren nodded sympathetically. "Distraction is good," he agreed. "Things are pretty hectic these days, thanks in part to finals, but mostly because everyone seems to be dealing with the aftermath of that terrible incident involving Jamie and his dupes." He paused to blow out a contemplative smoke ring. "Speaking of which, how are you holding up? It must have been pretty traumatic for you."

"Not really," Amanda said, laying her book aside and reaching for her tea. She made a face as she sipped the cold liquid. "I mean, it was horrible an' all, an' I had t' check with Doc Strange I wasn't gunna get some karmic backlash for usin' me magic t' kill, but we did what we had t' do."

Warren raised an eyebrow. "'Not really'?" He put an arm around Amanda in a gesture that was meant to be comforting. "Come on, you can talk to me. You have to feel pretty weird about the fact that you just killed off a bunch of living beings, as crazy as they might have been. Living beings that looked like our good friend Jamie, even."

"Seriously, Warren, I ain't bothered. Those things might've been alive, but they weren't people, not by a long shot. Not t' look at their auras, any way. An' how many natural things dissolve into goo when you knock 'em out?" She shrugged and took a drag on her cigarette. "Wouldn't have mattered any way if they hadn't - they kidnapped two little kids, drugged fuck knows how many people, an' tried t' absorb Jamie. Fuckers deserved all they got."

"Pretty tough for a kid your age, aren't you?" Warren commented after a pause. He was careful to keep his face neutral, but there was a very slight edge to his voice. "Are you always so... Do you always feel this way when you fight?" He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the makeshift ashtray and exhaled, watching some kids walking around in the distance.

She didn't notice the edge, not really expecting there to be one. "I had t' be. You don't last five minutes on the streets if you expect people t' look after you." She leaned back on the bench, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out. "Don't get me wrong, I had meself a bit of a breakdown, but more over the state Nate was in than anythin' else. But there's more 'n enough people feelin' guilty an' beatin' 'emselves up over this whole thing. We didn't do anythin' wrong."

"Well, sure, you didn't do anything wrong, it's just..." Warren frowned. "I mean, I know you had to be tough to survive and stuff, but..." He paused again, trying to figure out how to phrase this. "I just think it's a little... odd... that the thought of killing comes so easily and so naturally to you."

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little odd. Even for here. I didn't exactly get a good groundin' in ethics when I was a kid," she pointed out. "We don't all get t' have the movie-perfect upbringin', playboy, an' I'm sorry if that bothers yer delicate sensibilities, but I ain't gunna get upset 'bout killin' those things any more 'n I'm gunna get upset 'bout Pete shovin' a bunch of hot knives through Rack's head. You do what needs doin', you deal, you move on."

"I may be rich, but I'm not stupid. I know your childhood wasn't exactly Disney-approved. What bothers my delicate sensibilities, as you so sweetly put it, is that you seem to think killing is no big deal!" Irked, Warren stubbed his cigarette out into the sand harder than was necessary. He quickly lit another one and exhaled forcefully. "What if I were to fuck up one day, Amanda? Screw someone over while I'm not thinking straight? Would you even think twice about offing me, or would you just figure I had it coming?"

"Depends," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him steadily. "Depends on how badly you screwed someone over an' what the reasons were."

Warren met her gaze with an expression of disbelief. "And that would be it, then? Somehow it'd be up to you to decide whether or not I deserve to live?" He took a short, angry drag on his cigarette. "You're not exactly perfect yourself, you know. And a life, once it's taken, can never be given back." He stubbed out this cigarette, too, even though he wasn't anywhere near done with it. "I've had to kill before, too, Amanda, and you know what? I still feel it. Guess this rich pampered playboy just isn't as tough and heartless as you are," he said coldly, standing to leave.

"So yer gunna cut an' run when things get a bit uncomfortable?" she shot back, eyes flashing as she bounced up to look him eye to... well, chest, since he was tall and she wasn't, but it was better than craning her neck to look up at him from her seat. "An' you think I don't know I ain't perfect? Jesus fucking Christ on a stick, I've screwed people over so badly, fucked things up so much, I thought that killin' meself was the only way t' stop meself from doin' it. You should know, you were bloody well there for some of it."

His glare softened at the mention of her near-suicide, and he automatically put his hand on his shoulder. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and its edge was replaced by disappointment. "Damn straight I was. I helped save your life." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I just can't believe that someone who came so close to death doesn't seem to recognize the value of life."

Her expression softened slightly at the touch, but there was still a stubborn set to her jaw. "An' that's where you get me wrong, Warren. You think I think I don't realise how important life is, but I do. I've got t' consider it, every time I even think of castin' a spell that might hurt someone. An' that's why it's so important t' me t' defend it when I can, no matter what it takes." A shadow crossed her face. "That bastard - he was perfectly willin' t' hurt the kids, the docs, the Prof, Nate... sure that poison of his weren't permanent, but what if someone had reacted to it? Nate was on so many drugs it nearly killed him. An' t' me, if yer prepared t' treat life with that kind of contempt, on prupose, then you deserve nothin' less than death yerself."

"Someone as determined as you are to protect life should be more cautious about taking it, then. Even if the creature in question has majorly fucked up." Warren gave her a squeeze before dropping his hand. "Look, I know the dupes were evil and crazy, and I know you were just trying to protect your friends and yourself. I get that." He offered an unhappy shrug. "Regardless, I can't stress how serious it is, the matter of killing. Yes, people screw up sometimes. But..." Biting his lips, he searched for the right words.

"First spell I tried on 'em, you know what it was? A sleep spell. Nice an' harmless, sends the target t' the Land of Nod for a few hours. Wanna know what happened when I cast it? Goo. Bloody things melted away like the Wicked Witch of the West." Amanda's grip on her temper slipped a little. "I was tryin', all right? But it didn't work, an' I had t' do somethin' before they killed Manny, so I did. An' I don't regret it." She dug her nails into her arms a little. "I'll always look for another way - I can't afford not to - but if that's what it takes..."

Noticing the annoyance in Amanda's voice, Warren backtracked a little. "All right, all right. This was a special case. You had to kill or be killed, and no one could predict how the dupes would react. Forgive me. I didn't mean to make you feel like you shouldn't have done what you did. Hell, if I'd been in your place, I'd have done the same damn thing." He looked away for a while, collecting his thoughts, before turning his gaze back to her upset expression. "I'm going to say this to you because... well, because I want to be honest with you, and because I think you can handle it. I was disturbed that you didn't seem to be the least bit upset about this." He bit his lip, watching her reaction, and continued quickly before she could interrupt. "Some of the kids seemed to almost enjoy this shit, and you know what? That terrifies me. For a second, I thought that might be you."

"Not bein' upset an' enjoyin' it are two different things, Warren," she said quietly. "I won't deny that later, once we got back here an' everyone was okay, I felt proud of what we'd done. We got the kids back an' no-one was hurt. But I never enjoyed it, not the killin'." She shuddered a little. "I do that, an' that's it for me. I might as well get Pete t' do to me what he did t' Rack, 'cause that'll be what I'll turn into."

There was silence for a few seconds. Warren acknowledged what she'd said with a slow nod and seemed to be thinking about it. "Amanda, I became an X-Man so that I could be the one doing the dirty work. I wanted to be the one going after the bad guys and getting into fights, so that people like you and your friends wouldn't have to." He glanced around before going on. Nobody else was around. "I don't like that this happened; I don't like that it seems like some people enjoyed it, even if you didn't; and... and... and I don't like that I wasn't there to help you guys through it." A trace of emotion slipped through Warren's calm exterior at the last statement.

The hard, angry look in Amanda's face softened, although her eyes remained somewhat guarded. "I gotta say it for Jamers, he's got one hell of a brain, and so did that mad bastard. He planned it all, right to the last, an' part of that plan was t' have all you lot out of the way. He thought we couldn't stop him, an' he was wrong." A kind of fierce pride touched her voice. "An' you can't stop bad things happenin', Warren. You grown ups couldn't stop the soldiers comin' after Pete, or what happened to 'Yana, or Rasputin's Mafia buddies comin' t' call. An' the security helps now, but it ain't foolproof. So rather than tryin' t' protect us from the world, how 'bout teachin' us t' live in it, t' protect ourselves? Pete understands that - maybe you should be talkin' t' him."

"I suppose so," sighed Warren, wincing slightly at the bad memories. "I don't know. There's a reason that you and the other students take courses like Self-Defense while the kids at Westchester High are playing badminton in PE class. But it doesn't stop me from wishing you didn't have to learn things like that. Doesn't change my mind about wanting to stop the bad things chasing after you." He laughed a little, but he didn't look happy. "Doesn't convince me that I shouldn't be trying to save the world."

"Well, if wishin' did anythin', we wouldn't have t' worry 'bout nothin', would we?" Amanda's tone was cynical. "An' the bad things'll always be out there. You can't save everyone, playboy, much as yer'd like to." The last was said with a note of regret. "Yeah, the X-Men go out an' save the world an' stop the villains an' all the rest. But there's more evil out there that don't wear a stupid costume."

Warren recoiled a bit, as if she'd slapped him. "I'm just trying to do my part," he muttered, stung that Amanda considered his work was useless and ineffectual."Yeah, well maybe you lot should look at what Jamie's been doing, rather than prancin' about in the fetish gear, eh?" Amanda said. "Stoppin' the hate before it gets t' the point of blowin' things up."

"Yeah, well maybe you lot should look at what Jamie's been doing, rather than prancin' about in the fetish gear, eh?" Amanda said. "Stoppin' the hate before it gets t' the point of blowin' things up."

The sting he'd felt at her last comment gave way to irritation. Who was she to tell him what he should be doing? "I can't do everything, Amanda," he snapped. "Much as I'd love to be able to. I can't stop the hate and teach you how to protect yourself and try to stop the bad guys all in the same day." He crossed his arms across his chest. "Someone's got to try to stop the bad that's already in this world. It just so happens that I've thought it through and decided that's the way I want to contribute. What the hell more do you want from me?"

"Hey, I'm not the one tryin' t' save the world an' beatin' meself up 'cause I couldn't stop what happened here," Amanda said, shrugging and turning to collect her book and tea mug. "I was just tryin' t' give you a bit of realism."

"And I'm just trying to tell you that there's more to life than just trying to protect yourself," Warren said. His tone was even, but his face betrayed his annoyance. "It's not such a bad thing, you know, having ideals and trying to make the world a better place. Maybe you should try it before criticizing the way I go about it."

"Considerin' a few months ago I doped half the school with love potion an' wouldn't've given a shit if I hadn't been hit meself, I think I've made progress carin' 'bout me friends. The world'll just have t' wait. Good thing it's got you lot, eh?" she retorted, mockingly. "An' you were the one who started the criticisin', playboy. Fair's fair."

"Actually, now that you mention it, yes. It is a good thing it's got people like us." Warren's eyes narrowed. "Wake up and smell the coffee, Amanda. Believe it or not, there's a whole world outside of you and your own little silly dramas. The bad things aren't going to stop coming just because you're too self-absorbed and caught up in your traumatic past to realize that. So yes. You're goddamned lucky the world's got people like me."

Amanda's free fist clenched, and for a brief second blue sparks crackled around it. When she looked up and spoke, her voice was deceptively calm, the blue of her eyes darkened. "No, the bad things ain't gunna stop comin', an' I ain't gunna let 'em have me. Or anyone else I care about. That I can rely on." She shouldered past him, heading for the door, but turned back before opening it. "An' next time you have a crisis of faith, playboy, go pick on someone else, eh?"