Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. I figured I should do something for Christmas so I wrote this. That and the fact that it's part of my quest to help Bobby get a girlfriend. R/R.
I'm cold. Actually, I'm cold all the time. You get used to it after a while. There are different kinds of cold though. There's the kind of cold you feel on the outside, physical cold. You walk outside in the wintertime, you feel cold. That stuff's pretty common. There's another type of cold though, one you feel on the inside. It's a numb kind of cold, one where you can't feel much of anything. You just can't seem to care anymore. That kind of cold isn't so common. That's the kind of cold I'll never get used to feeling.
I kick at some of the snow around me. I don't really know why I'm standing out here in the snow in my pajamas. I just feel like there's something I need to do. I kick the snow again. Nothing. I stare around the lawn at the collection of ice sculptures I've already created. I like making things out of ice. I do it a lot of times in a fight but sometimes I like doing it for fun, you know? Right now though life's not so fun. I stare at the sculptures, all of them twisted and mangled. I never liked modern art much but twisted around is how I feel right now. My stomach's been tied up in so many knots since she left I don't think I can ever untangle it. I just feel so broken. I can't seem to get things back to the way they were. I keep trying to vent all my pain but nothing seems to work. I sigh as I feel my powers extended outwards.
I begin another sculpture, this one more traditional. I concentrate on the ice and shape it just the way I want. I try to get everything right. Every contour of her face, every curve of her body, everything. I can remember it all too. I remember every smile, every laugh, everything about her. Rogue. I never knew her real name, none of us did. She didn't trust us but that was understandable I guess. Still, I tried to be with her. I tried to make our relationship work because I loved her.
I know I'm young, I know I'll find someone else. I don't care. I loved her, end of story. It didn't matter to me about her past. It didn't matter to me whether or not I could touch her. I just liked being around her. I just liked making her smile. She needed to smile too. I guess I'm pretty lucky to have had the life I've had. I mean I know my parents weren't supportive of me being a mutant but at least they took care of me and did the best they could to raise me. I certainly haven't had the kind of life she had. I wasn't bounced around from one psycho to another. I guess I should be grateful for that.
I sigh as I stare at the face of the sculpture. The statue of Rogue is true to life. Every feature is an attempt to bring her back to where she belongs. She belongs with us, with me. Why would she want to go back to the life she once led? I thought she wanted to get away from all that but instead she jumped right back into it. Why pick him over me? Everyone can see Gambit's a sleaze. Why would she just want to get used again? I stare at the statue and begin some additions after finishing the body. Rogue was always beautiful but always sad. Life made her that way and if art imitates life then I guess I should make her that way too. I finish touching it all up. I could've made her so happy. I wanted to so much. I used all my best lines, all my funniest jokes, just to make her smile. It hurt for her to smile though. She'd rather frown instead.
I step back and admire my work. Rogue with long, feathery wings and an expression of despair. A fallen angel, lost in a world of cold darkness. I stare at it and all I can think is that it's not right. Things don't look so perfect when you think about them in hindsight. Instead of remembering all the good times all you can remember are the bad ones.
"It's good," says a voice. I turn and give the owner of said voice a sour glare.
"Really," says Kitty, "The detail's amazing." I wait for it. I wait for some comment about the subject of the sculpture. Kitty and Rogue never hit it off. I guess that's partly my fault although it probably shouldn't be. At any rate, the comment about the subject never comes.
"Jean sent me out here," says Kitty flatly, "She and the Professor want you to come inside before you freeze. Frankly, I really don't care."
"I don't mind the cold," I tell Kitty as I stare at my creation with my back to her. We haven't talked much since Rogue left. Neither of us want to.
"Uh huh," she replies, "Well I do mind the cold so get back inside because I'm freezin' my tail off."
"No one says you have to stay here," I tell her as I continue to stare forlornly at the sculpture. I suddenly feel a tingling sensation all over me. Kitty walks right through me and then turns around to face me.
"That get your attention?" she asks.
"Yeah," I reply, "Kitty, what . . .?"
"Good," interrupts Kitty, "I'm gonna spell this out for you because there doesn't really seem to be any other way. I'm sorry Rogue left you, Bobby. Really, I am."
"Okay but . . .." I try again. She silences me.
"I'm not finished yet," she tells me, "I'm sorry she's gone but you need to quit this crap. It hurts."
"Why should you care?" I ask Kitty, "This is all your fault anyway. You never even liked Rogue." My mouth gets me in trouble a lot. I'm angry at this girl but I don't exactly know the reason why. When Kitty and I kissed at Coney Island, I don't know what I felt. I still don't really know what I feel.
"Damn it, Bobby!" snaps Kitty angrily, "I . . .God this is hard. I love you, Bobby. I've always loved you although right now it's pretty freakin' hard to do. You're sweet and handsome and funny but you can be a real jackass sometimes and now's one of 'em."
I stare at her in silence. I always thought she loved me but I wasn't sure. I thought Rogue was the one I loved but I always felt something more for Kitty than just friendship. Now I don't know what I feel at all.
"Yeah, I was jealous," continues Kitty, "I was jealous of you and Rogue. I have feelings too, Bobby Drake, and I'm sick of playing the third wheel. Go be depressed if you want but know that seeing you this way hurts me more than anything else in the world!" She brushes past me and trudges inside. I watch her go and feel incredibly stupid. All this time she's been so broken up about this. I remember how I used to have a crush on Storm when she was dating Hank. Watching that was the hardest thing in the world.
I turn and look at the sculpture one last time. I've been selfish all this time. I was selfish when I ignored how Kitty felt about me and went out with Rogue. I was selfish when I got mad at Kitty even though none of this was her fault. I was selfish just now when I got angry with her again. Maybe it's time to stop being so selfish and try to fix this mess instead of being absorbed in my own sadness. Maybe it's time to come in from the cold. I turn back towards the mansion and run inside.
"Kitty?" I ask quietly, "Where are you?" I hear the sound of crying coming from the living room. I walk in and find her sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in between her knees.
"Kitty," I tell her, "Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry about all this, really." I try to put my hand on her shoulder but it passes right through her.
"Kitty, come on," I beg, "I'm really sorry. I was a jerk; I know that now. I shouldn't have gotten so mad and blamed this on you. Please, forgive me."
"Do you really mean it?" sniffles Kitty, "because it really hurt me when you said this was my fault."
"I was mad," I try to explain, "I just . . .I don't know. I've never been able to figure you out. I thought I had but then you and I kissed and it . . .." I stop because I know I'm incoherently rambling.
"It what?" asks Kitty. I stop and try to think.
"It scared me," I admit. I don't like being scared. I try to play it off cool a lot of times but I usually just come off as a jerk. It's hard to do what we do and not get scared. It's even harder when you try to fake being brave.
"There's nothing wrong with that," says Kitty, "You don't have to act so tough all the time, Bobby. You could also try being a little bit nicer to everyone too."
"Could we have the 'list my faults' conversation later?" I ask her.
"Sorry," says Kitty, "What do you want to talk about instead?"
"What you said out there just now. Did you really mean it?" I ask her.
"Well duh, of course I did," replies Kitty, "Why?"
"Because I think maybe I could love you too," I tell her honestly, "You're a great girl, Kitty, and that kiss was . . .amazing. I've been thinking about what you said that night. Maybe I was scared of having a real relationship and that's why I wanted Rogue and not you."
"What about now?" asks Kitty.
"Maybe being scared isn't so bad," I tell her, "and maybe I need someone like you who will tell me when I'm being a jackass."
"So you want to make this work?" asks Kitty hopefully.
"I wanna try," I reply, "That is, if I haven't completely blown it and you still want to." Her answer doesn't come verbally. Instead she presses her lips to mine. It feels good, better than the other time. The first kiss was forced but this one is more natural. For a brief moment I imagine what kissing Rogue would be like compared to this. Then I realize it doesn't matter anymore. Rogue's not coming back, not now and not ever.
"I love you, Bobby," whispers Kitty quietly as she snuggles against me.
"I love you too, Kitty," I tell her as I stroke her cheek. It still doesn't seem enough. What do you say to the person who's always loved you even when you didn't notice them at all? What do you say to the one who never stopped caring even while you passed her over for someone else? Sometimes "I love you" just isn't enough.
"C'mere," I tell Kitty as I suddenly head for the door, "I wanna show you somethin'."
"What, out there?" asks Kitty, "Bobby, not everyone's as crazy about the cold as you are. You may not realize it but normal people like me actually hate it."
"Fine," I tell her, "but you're spoiling your own surprise. C'mon, it'll just take a second."
"This is a bad sign," mumbles Kitty as she puts her coat back on, "I can just picture how this relationship is going to go." I roll my eyes and lead her back over to my sculpture of Rogue.
"Close your eyes," I tell her with a smile.
"No way," she emphatically states, "I know better than to trust you, Master Prankster."
"Alright," I sigh, "Turn around and promise not to peek. You'll love it, promise." Kitty sighs and turns around. She's cute when she's irritated. I turn back to the sculpture. It looks so out of place, a monument to someone I now only want to forget. I place my hand on the face and begin to remold it. I turn the frown upside down and add freckles to the cheeks. The prominent streak now fades into the rest of the hair. The eyes become brighter, the face softer. I finish and then stare at it for a few moments. I'll have to remodel the whole thing I guess. Kitty's definitely not Rogue's replacement. She's her own person. I begin remaking the sculpture, trying to get everything just right.
"Are you done yet?" asks Kitty impatiently.
"Almost," I tell her as I touch it up, "Okay, now look."
"Finally," gripes Kitty, "Now what is so . . .." Her mouth hangs open as she gazes at the ice sculpture of her with the radiant smile and wings of an angel.
"Surprise," I tell her.
"It's . . .it's me," says Kitty, "Bobby, it's gorgeous. I don't mean that just because it's me instead of Rogue. It's . . .it's really beautiful."
"I had a good subject," I tell her as she moves beside me and kisses me on the cheek, "but the artist needs his rest now."
"Yeah, guess it is late," says Kitty, "All this snow and ice makes me want some hot chocolate. You up for some?"
"Yeah, that'd be nice," I tell her as we both turn and head inside. I turn and look back at the sculpture. Sometimes it's hard to let things go. Sometimes you just want to stay where you are because it's comfortable and familiar even if it does suck. Change is scary but you have to let go. Sometimes you have to step beyond the fear and do what your heart's been telling you to do all along. I'll always remember Rogue and what we had together but tonight I'd rather hope for the future than regret the past.