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halfamoonTitle: Her Wife
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Raven/Irene
Rating: Strong PG/K+
Summary: Raven has at last tracked down her wife.
Word Count: 1,147
Written For: Half A Moon Day 3: Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Vocab Drabbles 89: Clairvoyant, 100 Ships 14. Navy, and X-Men 15 6. Family
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Raven squared her shoulders as she braced against the wall behind her. She had just ducked out of her sight of a woman she'd been tracking down for nearly a year. Her heart hammered in her ears, louder than any gunfire in any war Raven had ever experienced, and that was saying quite a deal as, over her centuries in living, she'd battled in more wars than she could remember. Irene was there! Her wife was just outside!
She'd found her at last! She was still alive, healthy, and with the X-Men, fighting on the good side, if not necessarily, at least in Raven's opinion, the right side. They could be reunited in scant seconds -- all she had to do now was reveal herself. So why the Hell was she so terrified, trembling inside like a leaf caught in one of the damn Windrider's gale-force winds? Why was she scared of going to a woman with whom she had loved and lived for centuries? Because, she admitted, forcing down the ball that had formed in her throat, she had been tracking Irene because she ached to be with the woman she loved -- but Destiny herself was caught up in yet another one of her cognitive visions.
Her wife had given her Hell before for Mystique's own devices. She'd chastised her for being on the wrong side, for not being there for Rogue, for wanting to be there for Kurt and refusing to relinquish his memory when she'd not yet known her son in person! She'd treated her so often like she was the kid who needed learning and was making the foolish mistakes. She'd said Raven drank too much, poisoned herself too much, gave too much of herself to the ongoing war between humans and mutants -- But what of Irene Adler herself?
Irene, who'd never chosen to take her name or allow Raven to take hers. Irene, who could scarcely stay in one place for long before her feet started itching. Irene, who seemed to yearn and chase after her clairvoyant visions like an addict sought his, or her, next dose. Raven found herself sliding into familiar, comforting shadows, and worse yet, worse than anything she'd endured while hunting down her beloved after Krakoa's destruction, fighting tears.
She growled at herself, her teeth growing into fangs and biting into the flesh of her blue, bottom lip. How dare she allow herself the luxury of tears, the luxury of allowing anyone to hurt her! But she knew staying away from Irene was impossible. She'd come all this way, fought through her own crazed spells and literal monsters from Hell, to get here, back to her wife's side. She had known the entire time how Irene was, had known for centuries. But it didn't, it couldn't, keep her from loving her woman.
Through everything they had endured, blood spilled in countless wars and battles within and beyond the wars, tears spilled over children and life's other multitude of crises, tears spilled over needless arguments, sweat spent in building their life only to watch it be torn asunder over and over again... She had always known how her wife was, how important those damned visions of hers were to her! It was why she had not tried to return Irene's mind when it her memory had gone, had only romanced her again and tricked her into falling back in love with her.
Only... Had any of it ever really been just a trick? Raven had always loved the woman, whom she was again watching, having slipped as silent as a mute serpent back to the window to watch her. Her weapons were usually her babies, but the cold, firm metal of the semiautomatic rifle currently held in her gloved hands did little to console her. She could fight the world. Hell, she could fight the universe, galaxy after galaxy, never tiring! But this one woman...
Irene Adler had always wielded the power to bring Raven Darkholme to her knees. Not unlike Helen of Troy, Raven would fight whole wars for the woman, both inside and outside of her own mental space and soul. She would do anything for her, from following every damn vision she had through Hell itself if need be or the furthest reaches of outerspace to abandoning her infant son. She would do anything for her except abandon her, no matter how many times the other woman tried to send her away.
She might as well face the music, Raven thought, and reveal herself; otherwise, she'd simply end up following her wife in the shadows for months, thinking she was concealing herself from her but Irene's abilities telling her of her presence the entire time. There was no point in hiding, or in denying the love-besotted fool she was or that she would gladly do everything her wife asked just to be near her again. Maybe this time, after whatever stupid mission her woman was chasing down, she'd be able to build a family again, to have Irene and Kurt connect at last. Perhaps if she could enlist the now-married Rogue, she would get further. After all, her daughter loved her brother, even if she still hated her.
And they both had plenty of reason to hate her. Let them blame her, she thought again as she so often had. She could take their hatred, their anger, their ridicule -- she just could not take losing their mother ever again. Sprouting wings, Raven sailed through the window and down toward the ground where her wife currently stood with a team of X-Men. She'd do anything for Irene, she thought again at the startled looks of the various X-people, even fight for a dream in which she had never believed. With as much as humanity had done to them, eeking out a peaceful coexistence with the inferior species was their only hope of survival, but Raven had never, and would never, truly think it possible. But if it was what her wife wanted, that was all that mattered.
She wished, as she descended, that Irene did not wear a mask. Nonetheless, she felt the surprise and warmth of her reaction, and her heart soared higher than she could fly on these navy-blue, feathered wings. Her wife ran to her and crashed into her arms just as Raven set her boots on the ground; she'd barely had time to move her gun before Irene was covering her in hugs and kisses. She had made the right decision, Raven knew, and perhaps this time, they could live a life with their kids, no matter how temporary, without chasing down every damn vision the old woman got.
Maybe... But as long as she had Irene in her arms, she'd find a way to be happy. Her love, especially at this late time in their lives, was all that truly mattered.
The End
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Raven/Irene
Rating: Strong PG/K+
Summary: Raven has at last tracked down her wife.
Word Count: 1,147
Written For: Half A Moon Day 3: Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Vocab Drabbles 89: Clairvoyant, 100 Ships 14. Navy, and X-Men 15 6. Family
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Raven squared her shoulders as she braced against the wall behind her. She had just ducked out of her sight of a woman she'd been tracking down for nearly a year. Her heart hammered in her ears, louder than any gunfire in any war Raven had ever experienced, and that was saying quite a deal as, over her centuries in living, she'd battled in more wars than she could remember. Irene was there! Her wife was just outside!
She'd found her at last! She was still alive, healthy, and with the X-Men, fighting on the good side, if not necessarily, at least in Raven's opinion, the right side. They could be reunited in scant seconds -- all she had to do now was reveal herself. So why the Hell was she so terrified, trembling inside like a leaf caught in one of the damn Windrider's gale-force winds? Why was she scared of going to a woman with whom she had loved and lived for centuries? Because, she admitted, forcing down the ball that had formed in her throat, she had been tracking Irene because she ached to be with the woman she loved -- but Destiny herself was caught up in yet another one of her cognitive visions.
Her wife had given her Hell before for Mystique's own devices. She'd chastised her for being on the wrong side, for not being there for Rogue, for wanting to be there for Kurt and refusing to relinquish his memory when she'd not yet known her son in person! She'd treated her so often like she was the kid who needed learning and was making the foolish mistakes. She'd said Raven drank too much, poisoned herself too much, gave too much of herself to the ongoing war between humans and mutants -- But what of Irene Adler herself?
Irene, who'd never chosen to take her name or allow Raven to take hers. Irene, who could scarcely stay in one place for long before her feet started itching. Irene, who seemed to yearn and chase after her clairvoyant visions like an addict sought his, or her, next dose. Raven found herself sliding into familiar, comforting shadows, and worse yet, worse than anything she'd endured while hunting down her beloved after Krakoa's destruction, fighting tears.
She growled at herself, her teeth growing into fangs and biting into the flesh of her blue, bottom lip. How dare she allow herself the luxury of tears, the luxury of allowing anyone to hurt her! But she knew staying away from Irene was impossible. She'd come all this way, fought through her own crazed spells and literal monsters from Hell, to get here, back to her wife's side. She had known the entire time how Irene was, had known for centuries. But it didn't, it couldn't, keep her from loving her woman.
Through everything they had endured, blood spilled in countless wars and battles within and beyond the wars, tears spilled over children and life's other multitude of crises, tears spilled over needless arguments, sweat spent in building their life only to watch it be torn asunder over and over again... She had always known how her wife was, how important those damned visions of hers were to her! It was why she had not tried to return Irene's mind when it her memory had gone, had only romanced her again and tricked her into falling back in love with her.
Only... Had any of it ever really been just a trick? Raven had always loved the woman, whom she was again watching, having slipped as silent as a mute serpent back to the window to watch her. Her weapons were usually her babies, but the cold, firm metal of the semiautomatic rifle currently held in her gloved hands did little to console her. She could fight the world. Hell, she could fight the universe, galaxy after galaxy, never tiring! But this one woman...
Irene Adler had always wielded the power to bring Raven Darkholme to her knees. Not unlike Helen of Troy, Raven would fight whole wars for the woman, both inside and outside of her own mental space and soul. She would do anything for her, from following every damn vision she had through Hell itself if need be or the furthest reaches of outerspace to abandoning her infant son. She would do anything for her except abandon her, no matter how many times the other woman tried to send her away.
She might as well face the music, Raven thought, and reveal herself; otherwise, she'd simply end up following her wife in the shadows for months, thinking she was concealing herself from her but Irene's abilities telling her of her presence the entire time. There was no point in hiding, or in denying the love-besotted fool she was or that she would gladly do everything her wife asked just to be near her again. Maybe this time, after whatever stupid mission her woman was chasing down, she'd be able to build a family again, to have Irene and Kurt connect at last. Perhaps if she could enlist the now-married Rogue, she would get further. After all, her daughter loved her brother, even if she still hated her.
And they both had plenty of reason to hate her. Let them blame her, she thought again as she so often had. She could take their hatred, their anger, their ridicule -- she just could not take losing their mother ever again. Sprouting wings, Raven sailed through the window and down toward the ground where her wife currently stood with a team of X-Men. She'd do anything for Irene, she thought again at the startled looks of the various X-people, even fight for a dream in which she had never believed. With as much as humanity had done to them, eeking out a peaceful coexistence with the inferior species was their only hope of survival, but Raven had never, and would never, truly think it possible. But if it was what her wife wanted, that was all that mattered.
She wished, as she descended, that Irene did not wear a mask. Nonetheless, she felt the surprise and warmth of her reaction, and her heart soared higher than she could fly on these navy-blue, feathered wings. Her wife ran to her and crashed into her arms just as Raven set her boots on the ground; she'd barely had time to move her gun before Irene was covering her in hugs and kisses. She had made the right decision, Raven knew, and perhaps this time, they could live a life with their kids, no matter how temporary, without chasing down every damn vision the old woman got.
Maybe... But as long as she had Irene in her arms, she'd find a way to be happy. Her love, especially at this late time in their lives, was all that truly mattered.
The End
