FIC: "Even A Single Candle"
Oct. 28th, 2004 04:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sage-theory.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
crossoverfic...Well, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
latimer84 requested it, so here it is for your enjoyment.
Title: Even A Single Candle
Series: Tomorrow People/X-Men xover
Spoilers: minor ones for Crimson Dawn (UCXM)
Rating: G/PG (some psychic/fantasy type pseudo-violence)
Summary: Adam knows what's at the end of the tunnel
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel does. I don't own the Tomorrow People, ITV, Nickelodeon, and others do.
The shadows melt around her, or perhaps it's her melting into them. With physical eyes, it's hard to pick out the difference.
In his mind, it's a precise thing. Like clockwork and surgery and all the delicate things that take small fingers and large minds to do.
Adam breathes fast, hard breaths that rattle in the metallic walls of the danger room. He looks up to the control room and can't even make out the faces up there. Has to reach out mentally and feel Megabyte (bright and smooth and high-pitched with worry coloring everything) and Xavier (large and looming and hidden behind translucent glass, only the shapes of feelings and the notions of thoughts show through – nothing definite that can be touched).
Psylocke is there, but beyond that he can't tell. Adam wants to remind himself there's a reason he's doing this. But trying to find that reason has him grasping at a big empty space. Still, he knows originally, he must have had a reason. He wouldn't have come here, wouldn't have let himself weave his own ideology in Xavier's if there hadn't been some benefit to it.
The shadows waver like curtains and Psylocke emerges, quick as a greased panther. She rides the darkness like fish ride currents in the water. Really rides it, lets the darkness hold her weight and her motion.
He slams against a wall, his spine straightened suddenly against metal, and the pain is beyond physical. The psychic knife is all the way through him. He doesn't get the strange mercy of passing out, of being submerged in darkness.
It does not sever his consciousness. It only fragments it. His thoughts come at random to him, without focus, without direction. His mind is a car hydroplaning on a wet road. No brakes, no steering. Pain bad ideas the dark dark darkness can't see anything nothing to help Megabyte the Professor so far away light bad idea violence pain. I'm supposed to just breathe, think, or maybe hold my breath, not think. Breathe bad idea panic pain violence. Megabyte light light need light breathe don't breathe.
"You have to get over this refusal to commit violence," she whispers to him, velvety and dark toned. "This world is a violent place. Mutant, Tomorrow Person, we're all the same. I don't see this bright future you talk so much about. I see wars and violence and killing."
She twists the psychic knife and Adam doesn't scream, just closes his eyes. Darkness, that's where she lives, so that's where he's got to find light.
Darkness wavers, shivers, undulates. But light is linear, straight, and true. He believes this. This is why he came.
Adam thinks of light and his fingers press into the Danger Room walls.
"Maybe you're not looking in the right places," Adam answers and instead of trying to get away, he impales himself further on her knife and reaches for Psylocke's jaw.
Psylocke blinks and the knife dissolves. The pain dissolves. The darkness dissolves.
The lights come up in the Danger Room and Psylocke still has an impotent fist at his gut. Adam smiles at her.
Covered in sweat, Adam drags himself towards the showers. He tries to remember, days like these, why he got talked into this.
When Xavier comes hovering into the shower room, Adam continues to undress. It's surprising how easy it is to cast away the material things – like culture and standards and the body – when he's around.
His body is nothing to Adam, absolutely nothing. As meaningful as some icon on a computer. His mind defies any description Adam wishes he could dream up. Large maybe, but it's not just about size. Powerful, perhaps, but so is Psylocke, so is Jean Grey.
Adam thinks of storms and the thundering footsteps of giant animals like elephants and mountains and everything that is more powerful than Adam would care to measure.
"I believe, if necessary, you could kill," Xavier says. He's said this before, so Adam takes it in stride. In fact, it really no longer means anything except that Xavier fears for Adam and the other Tomorrow People. "I could remove any prohibitive reflexes in your mind."
"I suppose you could, if you really wanted," Adam answers, taking off his watch and his necklace. He absently scratches his side and hangs his shirt on a peg.
"Psylocke has a point. The world has become violent. The wars are coming to our doorstep. I wonder what you'll do when it comes time to decide."
Adam leans his head to the side. "Decide? Didn't realize I needed to."
"Adam," Xavier says, and sighs with his hands folded on the edge of his hoverchair. "I wish I could envision the world the way you do. I've seen too much. I believe that in the end, we have only that which we can defend."
Adam shrugs. "I never said I disagreed. I just don't think defending something entails completely obliterating your enemies."
"Sometimes, I don't think we're given any other options," Xavier replies. Adam stares at him and sees, for a moment, just a very tired man with the seed of a fragile, beautiful dream in his hand and a thousand miles to go before he can plant it.
Adam isn't smiling, but there's still an air of absolute calm as he puts his hand to the smoothness of Xavier's head. Xavier puts his hand over Adam's.
Light is linear, straight, and true, thinks Adam, calm as the first good breeze after a storm.
But is it enough? Xavier wonders, in a mental rumble that echoes through his brain, finding nothing to bounce off of. Finding no answers.
All the darkness in the world isn't enough to put out even a single candle.
The thought rings through both their minds, going down the deep, deep wells of their consciousnesses and never hitting the bottom.
- END -
latimer84 requested it, so here it is for your enjoyment.Title: Even A Single Candle
Series: Tomorrow People/X-Men xover
Spoilers: minor ones for Crimson Dawn (UCXM)
Rating: G/PG (some psychic/fantasy type pseudo-violence)
Summary: Adam knows what's at the end of the tunnel
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel does. I don't own the Tomorrow People, ITV, Nickelodeon, and others do.
The shadows melt around her, or perhaps it's her melting into them. With physical eyes, it's hard to pick out the difference.
In his mind, it's a precise thing. Like clockwork and surgery and all the delicate things that take small fingers and large minds to do.
Adam breathes fast, hard breaths that rattle in the metallic walls of the danger room. He looks up to the control room and can't even make out the faces up there. Has to reach out mentally and feel Megabyte (bright and smooth and high-pitched with worry coloring everything) and Xavier (large and looming and hidden behind translucent glass, only the shapes of feelings and the notions of thoughts show through – nothing definite that can be touched).
Psylocke is there, but beyond that he can't tell. Adam wants to remind himself there's a reason he's doing this. But trying to find that reason has him grasping at a big empty space. Still, he knows originally, he must have had a reason. He wouldn't have come here, wouldn't have let himself weave his own ideology in Xavier's if there hadn't been some benefit to it.
The shadows waver like curtains and Psylocke emerges, quick as a greased panther. She rides the darkness like fish ride currents in the water. Really rides it, lets the darkness hold her weight and her motion.
He slams against a wall, his spine straightened suddenly against metal, and the pain is beyond physical. The psychic knife is all the way through him. He doesn't get the strange mercy of passing out, of being submerged in darkness.
It does not sever his consciousness. It only fragments it. His thoughts come at random to him, without focus, without direction. His mind is a car hydroplaning on a wet road. No brakes, no steering. Pain bad ideas the dark dark darkness can't see anything nothing to help Megabyte the Professor so far away light bad idea violence pain. I'm supposed to just breathe, think, or maybe hold my breath, not think. Breathe bad idea panic pain violence. Megabyte light light need light breathe don't breathe.
"You have to get over this refusal to commit violence," she whispers to him, velvety and dark toned. "This world is a violent place. Mutant, Tomorrow Person, we're all the same. I don't see this bright future you talk so much about. I see wars and violence and killing."
She twists the psychic knife and Adam doesn't scream, just closes his eyes. Darkness, that's where she lives, so that's where he's got to find light.
Darkness wavers, shivers, undulates. But light is linear, straight, and true. He believes this. This is why he came.
Adam thinks of light and his fingers press into the Danger Room walls.
"Maybe you're not looking in the right places," Adam answers and instead of trying to get away, he impales himself further on her knife and reaches for Psylocke's jaw.
Psylocke blinks and the knife dissolves. The pain dissolves. The darkness dissolves.
The lights come up in the Danger Room and Psylocke still has an impotent fist at his gut. Adam smiles at her.
Covered in sweat, Adam drags himself towards the showers. He tries to remember, days like these, why he got talked into this.
When Xavier comes hovering into the shower room, Adam continues to undress. It's surprising how easy it is to cast away the material things – like culture and standards and the body – when he's around.
His body is nothing to Adam, absolutely nothing. As meaningful as some icon on a computer. His mind defies any description Adam wishes he could dream up. Large maybe, but it's not just about size. Powerful, perhaps, but so is Psylocke, so is Jean Grey.
Adam thinks of storms and the thundering footsteps of giant animals like elephants and mountains and everything that is more powerful than Adam would care to measure.
"I believe, if necessary, you could kill," Xavier says. He's said this before, so Adam takes it in stride. In fact, it really no longer means anything except that Xavier fears for Adam and the other Tomorrow People. "I could remove any prohibitive reflexes in your mind."
"I suppose you could, if you really wanted," Adam answers, taking off his watch and his necklace. He absently scratches his side and hangs his shirt on a peg.
"Psylocke has a point. The world has become violent. The wars are coming to our doorstep. I wonder what you'll do when it comes time to decide."
Adam leans his head to the side. "Decide? Didn't realize I needed to."
"Adam," Xavier says, and sighs with his hands folded on the edge of his hoverchair. "I wish I could envision the world the way you do. I've seen too much. I believe that in the end, we have only that which we can defend."
Adam shrugs. "I never said I disagreed. I just don't think defending something entails completely obliterating your enemies."
"Sometimes, I don't think we're given any other options," Xavier replies. Adam stares at him and sees, for a moment, just a very tired man with the seed of a fragile, beautiful dream in his hand and a thousand miles to go before he can plant it.
Adam isn't smiling, but there's still an air of absolute calm as he puts his hand to the smoothness of Xavier's head. Xavier puts his hand over Adam's.
Light is linear, straight, and true, thinks Adam, calm as the first good breeze after a storm.
But is it enough? Xavier wonders, in a mental rumble that echoes through his brain, finding nothing to bounce off of. Finding no answers.
All the darkness in the world isn't enough to put out even a single candle.
The thought rings through both their minds, going down the deep, deep wells of their consciousnesses and never hitting the bottom.
- END -
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Date: 2004-11-14 06:42 pm (UTC)