It Doesn’t Take a Telepath - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Sigel Phoenix
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 1

Sometimes, I look at them and wonder how they've come this far. I don't mean how they've managed to stay alive all these years, though it still amazes me that any of us are alive after all we've been through; I'm talking about how they've never said that they love each other.

Rogue and Gambit are, in a sense, two of the most unstable members of the X-Men. They both have pasts full of turmoil that they'd rather put behind them, and are still in the process of doing that now. Put the two together, and you get a very volatile relationship.

From the beginning, the frisky Southern belle and the suave Cajun thief have had a thing going. It doesn't take a telepath to figure that one out.

Of course, it doesn't hurt, either.

I may be one of the most powerful minds on the planet, but that's not how I understand Rogue and Remy's feelings for one another. I see it in their eyes: the kind of deep, unquenchable fire that I had so rejoiced to see in Scott Summers' eyes when I realized that I loved him.

What they have is no mere attraction. Despite all their bluff and bravado, they care deeply for each other. The façade is just that--a mask, a disguise, used to protect their pride. It keeps them safe, by guarding them, and keeping their souls from becoming exposed and vulnerable. But it is also destroying them. I have seen the longing in their faces, sensed the yearning in their hearts.

I know why they hold back--they both have been through a lot, dealt with a lot of pain; people like Cody and Belladonna are not any they will soon forget. I understand, and yet I can't see how they can push away the people they need the most.

With the kind of lives we lead, being mutants and fighting like we do, our lives are perpetually at risk. This makes every shred of happiness we can achieve all the more precious, when death hovers like a shadow around us. And it's tragic when I see one of them brush the other off because they don't want to admit that they care, when it's painfully obvious that they do.

I'm sure that they have told each other, with their actions, how they feel. But there's something different, something special when you say those three truly magical words, not in a moment of anger or desperation, but in a moment of love.

I wait to hear them say it, or to see in them that distinct glow that tells me that they have. I wait every day, and yet I know that it is too soon, that it will take time. They will do it someday; today, they will not.

But they would do anything, even die for each other, and for now, that is enough.