Author Topic: My X-Men Drabbles  (Read 1688 times)

Reifuan Anmei

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My X-Men Drabbles
« on: April 12, 2009, 06:23:23 PM »
my stories never have titles because i never know what to call them; suggestions welcome!


He had been brooding for a week or two now.
Over Illyana.
Over everything.

He had come to a decision. But could he do it? Yes. Probably. But how to say goodbye? He couldn't just tell them. They already had told him not to.
How to say goodbye to... her? A Fiancee is not something to just disregard.  And she was so sensitive too. He started doodling on a paper napkin.
It was her face. Again. She would cry. Maybe even faint. She would probably make the others' around her even more depressed than they already would be.
It was almost cruel.

What was one against millions?

That is at least how many would die, if he didn't do this. It scared him. Katya. Charlotta. Illyana...
He couldn't save one. Could he save the others? He hoped so. He went upstairs to begin a new sketch. A happy sketch.
Around dawn the next morning he finally stopped to gaze critially at his own work. It was nice, he thought. Beautiful even.

It was Charlotte. Beautiful and happy, in a wedding dress, holding a bouquet. He wasn't in the picture. He didn't sign it either.
He folded it gently and placed it in an envelope with her name on it. She would find it some day. He went to go and take a shower and prepare for her the best day and night,
possibly ever, so that she could have something nice to think about... before... Well something nice. To help say goodbye.

That following night, Piotr lay in bed next to Charlotte, who was sleeping contently beside him. He hoped she'd had fun. he certainly would have have, if he hadn't've been so... preoccupied.
He went over the day they'd had in his mind, counting off the things they had done. Lunch, a few museums, and some exhibits, a sappy movie, dinner, a romantic walk and a carrage ride through central park.
And then back to the Mansion. And a few ... other activities as well. Now it was well into three AM. Tomorrow, well today, he could leave a note saying that he went to Hank's lab to hang out and chat. and then...
Well by "Then" he, at least, wouldn't have to worry anymore.

Later that morning, he set out as he planned, before Charlotte woke up. He left the drawing on her dresser where she could find it. He went down into the kitchen,
and into the fridge to pour himself one small gulp of Vodka. When he got into the lab i took him a few minutes until he found what he was looking for. He filled the syringe. He said a prayer.
He pushed the needle into his chest.
"I'll join you soon, Snowflake." came the soft Russian whisper.

And then...

Reifuan Anmei

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Re: My X-Men Drabbles
« Reply #1 on: April 12, 2009, 06:24:10 PM »
He looked through the window in the wall, down into the New Salem Hospital's nursery.

She was so tiny.

He smiled to himself as he thought that. He said that about a lot of things.

"But then again," He told himself, "You are a big guy."

He considered the comparison for a moment. At six foot four inches, and over two hundred and fifty pounds,
he had a slight advantage over a seven pound, foot and a half tall baby girl.

She looked just like her mother.

The same tiny nose; although it was still too early to tell if it would stay that way or if it would take his' shape.
The same bright blue eyes they both shared. The doctor did warn him that they might change color.Aparently almost all
babies were born with blue eyes. He did know that under the tiny pink cap, was a messy mass of thick black hair. And that inside
those little pink mittens were tiny, perfect fingers. And the little pink booties covered tiny, perfect feet. all wrapped up in a small pink blanket.

He wondered briefly how the hospital knew how many blankets, mittlens, hats, booties and other things, in each color, to buy daily, or weekly,
however they did it. Why not buy a more gender-neutral color; a soft yellow or mint green? Did hospitals ever run out of color-coded baby blankets?

His thoughts turned to his wife.

The birth was dificult for her. Not the physical process itself. That was... as easy as birth could be, being what it was.
No, the stress got to her, and when she panicked, she lost control of herself for a few minutes.

That could have gone better.

Then again, it could have been a lot worse.

The nurses gave her a mild seditive to calm her down. After that things seemed easy enough, although he wasn't the one doing the hard parts.
But the delivery itself was quick, and none to stressfull on either of them. Of course if he cound out that the doctors were lying to him, it would be more stressfull on them.
Afterwards, both of his beautiful girls were cleaned up, changed into new clothes and sheets, fed, and put to bed. That brought him back to why he was standing here.
She was closing in on threee hours old, and he already wanted to take her home and show her off, and at the same time, hide her away from all the bag things in the world.

And he knew personally, that there was a lot of bad things in the world.

The thought of suddenly being a parent was awkward for him. All that anticipation and now what do you do? Where is the balance between protection and freedom?
How do you tell if you've crossed it? He supposed that was why marriages and parenting were partnered activities.

"Mr. Rasputin?" "Da. Hm? Oh, Yes?"  "Mr. Rasputin, your wife is asking for you."
"Thank you."

He hurried back through the halls until he got to room 531. After two gentle knocks he stuck his head inside the door, to be greeted with a drowsy smile. "Hi."
He came in, closing the door behind him, and sat down next to her on the bed. " Did you see her?"
"Da. She is sleeping. Beginings of life must be exhausting; she was falling asleep in middle of first bathing."  The soft delighted laughter sent his heart into back flips.
He knew why she thought it was amusing; he slept like the dead. "Oh, Piotr, did you look at her? Isn't she the most beautiful think you've ever seen?" He smiled and kissed his wife,
just behind the curve of her neck, where she liked it. "Da. Almost." The kiss tickled, and when she inclined her head away, he kissed her properly.

After a few minutes, he looked at his wife gently. "Carlotta, you have choosing a name for her yet?" "No, you pick." He took some time to think about what he should call his little daughter,
while he stroked a lock of his wife's hair off her hair repeatedly. "You are liking the name 'Kira'? " He said at length. "What does it mean?" She leaned against him and smiled up.
The top of her head only just brushed the bottoms of his arms. He was a big guy after all.  "It is meaning 'Little Light' or 'Brightness of Something's'." " 'Kira'... I like it. We'll call her Kira."
He smiled down at her. "The others are wanting to be having party for when Kirochka comes home." " 'Key-Roach-Ka' ?" He looked down at his wife for a moment before comprehending.
" 'Kirochka'. Is... is like when Logan is calling you 'Charlie'. Is pet name for little girl name Kira." "Oh. Ki-... Kirochka?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Yes, do lets have a party when Kira comes home."

Reifuan Anmei

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Re: My X-Men Drabbles
« Reply #2 on: April 12, 2009, 06:24:50 PM »
She was still so tiny.
He looked down at his baby girl. At little more than two months, Kira Piotrovna Rasputin was still nealy miniscule compared to her father.

He spent hours watching her.

A few people joked that he was actually trying to watch her grow. Mostly he sketched her, read or talked to her. Sometimes he just held her.
Still and quietly, as though she was a porcelain doll that might crack if he raised his voice to much.

He was so careful about her hands. He was always holding them, kissing them, checking them. She had such delicate hands. Like her mothers'.
He was afraid to let his mind wander into dreams for his child, instead of letting her find her own. If he decided that was was to become a painter,
or a pianist, and raised her with that intention, and she hated it? He would be crushed.

No. Better that he waits until he found dreams of her own.

Dreams.

Boy was this different fromt he ones he'd had as a kid.

He had always thought that his life would be a series of bland life experences, punctuated with a few big moments. As a Siberian farm boy, he never expected
great things from his life. He was content to grow old where he was born. Where his family was born before him. Where his children would be born. He farmed
with with family and friends, and when the work was finally finished, he painted. Until one day.

The damned and blessed tractor.

Really, that was where it the whole thing started. It was just another farming day. Midsummer. The sky was bright, the weather clear. he was helping some friends, when a
neighbor warned him that his little sister was in danger. She was playing in a large circle of grass with her doll. Oblivious to the imminent danger she was in. He didn't stop
to think. He ran for her, and caught her up.

He didn't have time to keep running.

He CHANGED.

When he opened his eyes, the tractor was demolished, and he was made of steel.

Everything changed.

The professor approched him, invited him the The Institute. Changed his life. Never having been out of Russia, or off his farm, he was astomished by New York.
So big, so fast, so loud. He beame an X-Man. He fought.

On both sides of the angels.

He met Them. The two most important women in his life; Katya and Charlotta. Katya came first. They had a series of relationships, before...

Before.

Then he met Charlotta. Small. Quiet. Unassuming, and utterly timid. She was afraid of her powers and what they could do to people.
He spent time with her. He and Kurt were the first to break her self-imposed isolation. When she began to open up, she made friends right and left.
She was so sweeet. And then Katya found out.

He knew she was mostly egged one by Jubilee, one of her best friends. He understood
what it felt like to think someone betrayed you. So he talked to her. She was furious. Jealous. Heartbroken. He protected Carlotta,
and advised her to stand up for herself if need be, and kept and eye on things.

The he died.

When Katya found him, over three years later, it was a blessing from God. To no longer be experemented and tested on, like an animal. When he came home things were... awkward.

Katya was so protective of him. She chased people away. Tried to feed him. Tried to talk to him. Tried to much. Tried to hard.
She was a good friend, but when she kept Charlotta away, the one person he really needed to talk to, he yelled at Katya. He told her exactly where things stood and exactly how he felt.

He felt relieved and gut-shot at the same time. He all but destroyed his relationship with her. When he finally gathered up the nerve to invite her to the wedding,
he almost expected her to spit on him. But she didn't. She came. They were friendly again. When Kira came home, Katya begged to be one of the babysitters.
How could he say no?

Dreams... Memories? It was almost hard to tell the difference anymore.

He looked down from his revere into wide blue eyes. How long had Kira been watching him? How long had he been stairing into space? "Dzien dobry, Kirochka. How are you today?"
He smiled at his baby, and she smiled in return. " Come little one," He said, as he lifted his brigh-eyed baby girl onto his shoulder. "You must be hungry, after so long nap. We find you something to eat, no? " The baby gurgled in reply, happy to be acknowlaged. They went off to find a bottle, and daydream, him and his daughter.

Together