|And on the scale of Bad Ideas . . .
||[Feb. 1st, 2007|12:29 pm]
co-written with red_eyed_sin. Thank you!|
OOC::: Ah yes. As the cold of winter sets in over Europe, and dictators and terrorists ponder international peace summits, Our Heroine, or at least the protagonist of this journal, finds her thoughts turning to betrayal, failure, and the pressing need for sex with her illicit boyfriend.
WARNING: VERY EMO/ANGST. Gosh, I really do think that needs to be the first warning. Also, SEX. Lots of it. And graphic depictions of consensual, terribly desired, VIOLENT BDSM. Really. Not to everyone's taste, I assure you.
[LOCKED TO SINISTER]
Rachel didn't tell him she was on her way. One last small act of denial. Maybe he wouldn't be home.
Please don't be home, she thought to herself.
The last week had gone well enough all things considered. X-Corp was incredibly busy. Far more than Rachel had expected. She had Magneto to thank for that. And for more secrets, more hiding, more lies. She was trying to keep everybody happy. Help Anna, so she found Pyro and that meant she knew where Magneto was and then, and then what was she supposed to do with that information? She couldn't hide it. She couldn't tell.
It was getting strange. In her head, it was getting strange. Anna was giving her little looks out of the corner of her eye when they were making dinner. Watching Rachel's hands while she cooked at the stove. Anna was keeping Rachel's secrets. But Rachel could hear her concern. Hiding from Jean was exhausting. Constant vigilance. Rachel did not want Jean to think -- to know -- what Rachel had done with Sinister, how she felt about it. It was sick, Rachel knew that, and it was wrong, and it was half-crazy, and it was with a man who -- well. Rachel had read the after-action reports. The X-Men didn't always get to them, but Jean had been better than most. Rachel read the reports and she understood. Sinister had tortured them. Scott and Jean. There was no way Rachel was ever going to tell Jean what was happening. What she, what Rachel, was doing.
But it was more and more what she was thinking about. Not about Sinister, but about what he'd done. How she'd felt afterwards and it didn't hurt to breathe and she could stop the stupid useless yammering in her head. Talking to him a couple days ago had been self-indulgent and wrong and sick and traitorous. Rachel hadn't slept in a couple days. Afraid of what might come out when she dreamed. Afraid her monster might come to her.
It had been with intense relief that Rachel had volunteered to go to London. To liason with W.H.O., and the British government, about the upcoming summit Cable was hosting. A day in London, then a quick trip to visit Brian Braddock. Rachel had known that between her official duties there would be a night. One night unaccounted for.
After meeting all the officials, arguing security, and making promises on behalf of Providence and X-Corp Rachel wasn't entirely sure she could back up, Rachel was done for the night. She found the taxi area and got a cab immediately. The driver asked if she needed to go to hospital. Rachel denied it and made a serious effort to hide how she looked. When she got out of the cab her driver was certain he had dropped off two garrulous Kashmiri boys at their grandmother's flat.
Rachel walked up the steps to the front door. She stopped. She sat down on the steps, holding her knees. She couldn't do it. Couldn't press the buzzer and go in. She felt like she was floating, sitting there. She had to go in. She needed it, needed to stop feeling like this and she didn't know how to do it by herself. She had to leave. To go in would betray her whole family again. A second time, in a few weeks. She needed to cry, but nothing would start. Rachel put her forehead on her knees and sat on the top step. It would get dark soon, she thought. Maybe I could get mugged.
Here's the rest of it