Into The Silence, Screaming

by Amanda Sichter

It's too quiet at the Mansion.

They should be screaming in celebration, but there is only the silence.

It's too quiet on the grounds.

There should be a party so we can rejoice in her safe return, but it seems that the X-Men will never hold a party again.

It's too quiet in the boathouse.

Don't look at the boathouse, don't glance at the boathouse, if you look at the boathouse, she'll be there, in the window, watching you, and you will drive her away from the window, drive her away from you, into the dark of her room and she'll be so alone and she won't let you in and she won't let you look at her, so don't look at the boathouse.

I don't look at the boathouse. I know she's there, watching me, but I won't look at the boathouse, because when I do I know that she will fade back into the quiet rooms, will go back into the bedroom and sit on the bed and she will shut down and shiver and if I walk in like I did the first time, she will go away from me again.

I can feel her watching me, not in my head, not any more, but I can feel the weight of her eyes on my back as she watches me. Enough combat will do that to you, enable you to feel the weight of watching eyes. Enough love will do that to you, as well.

I love her enough. Haven't I always loved her enough? Isn't it enough? I'd die for her, I'd kill for her, I'd sell my soul for her. Isn't that enough? Don't I love you enough? Why won't you let me see you? Why won't you let me comfort you? Aren't I enough?

Storm's going to be angry with me. I hadn't realised what I was doing. Sitting here, on my knees, in the dirt, pulling petals from the flowers so I can stop myself from looking back at the boathouse, looking back at her, looking back at her not looking at me.

Why won't she look at me?

I want to be with her, hold her, comfort her, but she hides away from me. Even at night, lying next to me in the dark, she lies as still as death and makes sure that no part of her is touching me. And I lie next to her, and make sure I don't touch her, and I want to talk to her and my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth and I don't know what to say.

What do you want from me? What words do you want? Help me. Help me understand, Jeannie. I love you, Jeannie. Are those the words you want? I love you, Jeannie, love you, love you till my heart would burst with it, love you till the seas burn dry, love you till the end of time and forever, love you, love you, love you.

Why isn't it enough anymore?

Why isn't love enough anymore?

You're a stupid fucker, aren't you, Scott Summers? You know why it isn't enough, you were there, you saw. You couldn't keep her safe, you stupid fucker, and that's why love isn't enough anymore.

I wanted to keep her safe, wanted to spend my whole life keeping her safe, but she was the Phoenix, she didn't need me to keep her safe. Except then she wasn't the Phoenix anymore, because the Shadow King took away everything that made her Phoenix, and she was just Jean Grey-Summers and I forgot! I forgot she was a woman again, a woman with combat skills, yes, but a woman used to defending herself with her mind. And she wasn't in my head, and she couldn't tell me how badly she needed me, and she couldn't tell me when he came into the house and beat her unconscious and took her away from me. I let her down. I let her down.

She has to hate me now. How could she not hate me? I didn't even know when she needed me, I wasn't there for her, the big, brave warrior husband who can't even keep his wife from being abducted by some sick fucker rapist bastard. How long was she gone, how long did he have her before I even noticed? How inadequate is the jerk who takes two hours to realise his wife's been abducted? What the fuck was I doing? I can't even remember what I was doing before walking in to the house and seeing the blood and the open front door and the marks of your body being dragged through the snow. No wonder you hate me.

Oh, god, what am I doing? Stop it, Summers. Get up off your knees, get your fists out of the dirt, stop ripping your fingers to shreds scrabbling in the muck. It wasn't you that was held for three days by some sick fucker rapist. It wasn't you tied to a bed in a filthy shack in the mountains, being pawed by some dribbling pervert. It wasn't you having fingers roam over you, pinching your nipples, sliding into your private parts, opening you up to be looked at. It wasn't you having some unwashed inbred's cock thrust into your mouth to suck on and if you dare bite, girly, then there'll be pain for you, like as to kill you. It wasn't you having that monster loom over you in the dark, grunting as he spilled his filthy seed inside of you. It wasn't you thinking you were going to die every minute of every day if he was done with you. It wasn't you trying to please him because he held your heart in his knuckles, and if you were nice to him he might not hurt you so much. It wasn't you. It wasn't you. It wasn't you.

No, no, no, no, NO! It was my WIFE! Jeannie, oh god, Jeannie! How could you stand it, Jeannie? How can you stand it now? I let him take you, Jeannie, I let him take you away and use you. Use you again and again, until you can never be clean again, never be free of his taint. He'll always be there, Jeannie, between us, between us, can't you feel him between us? He's inside my head now and I can see him, see what he does to you, and it'll never be clean again.

Jeannie.

I love you.

I love you more than life. I'd give it all up for you, for one chance to take it back to the way it was before, when we were young and clean and free. Let me try, Jeannie. Let me try.

I can't help it this time. I have to see her. I have to see her. She's my wife. I love her. She has to let me see her.

There, in the front window, half in the shadows now, a spectre looming over her so I nearly shout to warn her, but then I realise it is just the shadow. His shadow, always. I catch a glimpse, an instant's glimpse of your eyes, the green so haunted now, stark in your face with your hair shorn so short and then you have seen me and you fall back into the shadow and the blind comes down over the window.

I watch again, as I have watched before, as the next blind goes down, then the next, until at last, every window is blank to me. You have shut yourself away from me again. Or have you shut me away from you. I cannot tell. But I know where you go now, I close my eyes and re-trace the steps as you make your way through the boathouse to the bathroom and lock the door and step into the shower and wash and wash and wash, scrub deeper and deeper to try and strip the taint of him from your skin. If you aren't watching me now, you are in the shower, scrubbing at your memories. Ororo has told me they have to watch you don't scrub your skin right off as you try to wash him away.

Don't you see, Jeannie, I want to be there with you? I want to help you wash him away. He is dirt between us, Jeannie, and I can help you be clean. I can. I CAN. He's on my skin, too, Jeannie, I can feel him in the night when you lock yourself away from me, I can feel him when you won't meet my eyes, I can feel him when you look down on yourself with distaste. Let me help you, Jeannie. Let me help you be clean.

What are you afraid of, Jeannie?

Afraid I'll see you and think you're ugly because he's been there? Afraid I'll be too gentle with you, make you ashamed of being ashamed? Afraid that I'll never be attracted to you again? Afraid I'll think you deserved it because you weren't strong enough to fight him? Afraid that you encouraged him, to try and stop him from killing you? Afraid that you complied willingly? Afraid you wanted it?

I'm afraid, Jeannie.

I'm afraid I'm losing you. I'm afraid he's taken you away from me and, no matter how hard I try, I'll never get you back. I'm afraid that I won't be enough to get you through this. I'm afraid you'll turn to someone else because you can't hear me in your head anymore, and that meant that I would never be enough.

I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that I'm so angry.

I'm so angry.

I'm so angry - that you're not angry.

Why aren't you angry, Jeannie? You hide from me, you scrub at yourself, you talk to Ororo, to Logan, you lock yourself away inside - but you've never even raised your voice. Why aren't you angry at him, Jeannie?

Are you angry at me?

I'm angry at me.

I couldn't even be the one to find you. Gambit, the fucking Cajun, he found you. What a pathetic hunter I am. I didn't even know what he did, we were just driving down the road, four of us, trying to find you and he shouted to stop the car - 'Arretez!' in his stupid, fucking French - and he dives out when 'Ro did. He's so fucking slippery he can lose Logan when he wants to, that bastard thief, and he did, slipped away in the woods like a shadow. But Logan found him in the end and took me there and I heard enough, I heard you, Jeannie, I heard his voice murmur and then your voice, my heart skipped, I had you back, and you said 'kill me, Remy, let me die, I don't want Scott to see,' and then I stepped out and you were in a ditch, a ditch, full of slugs and snails and leaf-mould and garbage, and you were bleeding from your scalp and the cuts around your eyes where he'd scratched your eyes with his nails and there were cuts and bruises under your chin and you were as beautiful as the sunrise to me and I smiled, and you saw me, and you turned your head away from me, and nestled down into the Cajun's duster which he'd wrapped around you, because the fucker had dumped you naked and bound, and you didn't want me to see.

And the Cajun picked you up and I went to take you off him and you shook your head and you nestled into his chest and he looked at me with those demon fucking eyes and he wouldn't give you to me. I wanted to burn him to a cinder then and there for that and I would have but he was carrying you and you clung to him like he was your refuge and he carried you back to the car and I followed you like I was a hanger-on, a useless bystander, and I'm your husband. Your HUSBAND!

I clench my fists in my pockets to stop myself from scratching out my eyes and I tangle my right hand around your hair. I keep it, you know, keep it with me all the time. It seems to be all I've got of you these days.

I draw it out now, in the sun, and it is lovely, shining with inner fire. It'll grow back, my love, it'll all grow back and they did a lovely job when they cut it off, it almost looks like a cut you meant to have and they've made it so it covers over the wounds in your scalp where he ripped out your hair by the roots in handfuls. They'll heal, Jeannie, the wounds'll heal, and your hair will grow back and you'll be as lovely as you've ever been and you'll be mine again.

You hated the Cajun. You called him a traitor, you fucking hated him, but he carried you onto the Blackbird and held you all the way home and his eyes glared at me, level and deadly, when I tried to reach for you and, after the first time I defied him and you clung to him harder and whimpered and shook your head, the others all gave me that same look when I reached for you. That level, deadly glare. Like it was all my fault.

Like it was all my fault.

It was all my fault.

I let the fucker take you away from me, I couldn't protect you when you needed protecting, I can't help you now when you need it, I can't hold in my anger, I can't comfort you, can't love you, can't help you.

Oh, god, Jeannie, it's all falling apart in my head.

I need you, Jeannie.

Come back to me, Jeannie.

I love you, Jeannie.

Where am I? I wander around in dazes now, don't know where I've been, don't know how I got there. I'm at the side of the lake, that's where I find myself. Find myself. I've lost myself, lost you, lost our link, lost everything that'll ever matter to me. I'll never find myself again.

He killed you, Jeannie.

He killed me.

He killed us.

We've died inside, Jeannie, we just don't realise it yet. We keep moving around because our bodies tell us to, but everything inside is as empty as the grave.

The water is cool and deep here, clean all the way through.

How much would it hurt, you think, to slide in and dive deep and never come up again? To fall into that cool, clean depth and surrender to it, forever.

Come with me, Jeannie.

I love you.

back to Amanda Sichter's stories | Cyke and Logan archive | comicfic.net