Finding You

[theycalledmeacurse]

I know forever don't exist
But after this life, I'll find you in the next
So when I say "forever," it's the goddamn truth
I'll keep finding you...

Aliens. Of all the things that could have gone wrong on her first solo business trip for the school, somehow aliens hadn't really made the list of possibilities. Breaking a shoe on the way to the donor's office, her car breaking down on the way into the city, getting food poisoning from bad sushi — the list went on and on, but aliens had never really occurred to her. Staring up at the giant armored worm thing flying above the street a few blocks down, she realizes that apparently it should have.

It takes time for her to fight the crowds fleeing the epicenter of the attack, each second feeling like an hour, and then she's faced with one of those creatures, its weapon pointing straight at her—

Reflexes honed by years of training sessions in the Danger Room have her dropping just in time, the car behind her taking the brunt of the impact with a metallic screech, and then she's back on her feet, a short metal stick in her hand expanding to a full-length staff. She wastes no time in swinging it at her enemy with practiced force, focused on damaging that armor enough to get hold of its weapon. Once she has it, she should be able to take them out much more efficiently.

It's a good thing everyone is more focused on the alien invasion than the woman with the weird hair trying to play ninja in a business suit.

Comments

[theycalledmeacurse]

It hurts. Everything he says hurts and it isn't fair. The things he's telling her are beautiful: glimpses of his past and the people who have shaped him, theories of what this bond is and what it can mean for them. But despite how much she wants all of this to be true, she can't trust it. He doesn't know her; when he does, everything will be different.

"It sounds nice," she remarks, genuinely meaning it. Her fingers tighten around her phone and she closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the door. "...I should probably get back to work. I've got a stack of papers that won't grade themselves."

She's running again. It's what she does best.

[on_ur_left]

Steve... wilts. It's the only word for it, as his shoulders droop and he slumps a little in his chair, closing his eyes. He's said something wrong, or - maybe not, maybe he's said everything right, and it's still not enough. He doesn't know how to get through to her, and more, he knows that sometimes, pushing something only makes it worse, makes it harder for the other person.

Rogue's not ready to accept it, and he's not going to push it. Maybe it is a soulmate thing, or maybe it's just him being able to read people, but he knows now isn't the time to say anything. He'll just stay here, in whatever space she allows him to be in - even if it's just friendship, he's not even asking for anything more, would be perfectly happy if they could just be friends. He'll do or be whoever she needs, wants.

But by God, he's not giving up. Taking a deep, quiet breath, he makes sure his tone is light and friendly when he responds. "Oh, sure! Yeah, sorry, I kinda interrupted your day. Listen, if you wanna talk, just give me a ring. My days are wiiiiide open," he says, a tad sardonically. "It'd be nice to hear from someone. Someone I like," he amends, "who's last name isn't Stark. And who doesn't make me feel like a complete ignoramus for missing the last seventy-years worth of pop culture references.

"Anyway. I'll let you go. You've got my number, now. I'll... I'll talk to you later." He tries, without being too obvious, to let her know that the ball's now in her court; it's her decision how she wants to proceed. It's his turn to say 'I hope I hear from you again. But I won't be surprised when I don't.'

[theycalledmeacurse]

Perhaps it is the soulmate thing, but she knows that the tone he puts on is false. She knows that doesn't feel that way, that she's made things hard for him. It's so hard not to apologize.

Eyes still closed, she rubs a hand over her face before nodding to herself. "You should try drawing again," she tells him, pulling on the only thing she can to give him hope that he'll hear from her again. "I'd like to see your work sometime." She doesn't wait for him to respond before ending the call.

He won't hear from her for another two weeks.