"Ah c'n feel it," she said quietly, opening her eyes, picking absently at the bedsheets.
"That 'n Ah don't think you've ever stuttered in front o'me in your life." She looked up at him, scared and trying not to be.
"The things Ah was sayin', it... I was afraid for somebody? Tryin' to help someone. But-" Her brow furrowed and she dragged a hand across her face, trying to smooth it out.
"That wasn't Creed. Ah heard his voice but it was- I was hearin' it, it wasn't... the memories weren't his." She was aware of how deeply uncomfortable Gambit was. It didn't make her feel any better, but it made her somehow much more secure in the feeling that she was angling toward the right thing. That wasn't a good sign for their relationship or whatever memories she was missing, but it also didn't mean she could back away from them. She slid her fingertips along her temples and into her hair, closing her eyes again, trying to utilize the techniques the Professor had taught her so long ago, and that Emma Frost had been reinforcing more recently. To not dig, to sift, to try to be open to what was there without being overwhelmed by it.
So when it hit her from a purely intellectual angle that clearly the source of the dark impenetrable memories was the person next to her, she couldn't help but feel startled and a little betrayed, though not by him.
Not yet.
She opened her eyes and slid her hands down to cover her mouth with the both of them, and looked at Gambit with an expression of dawning horror. How the hell was she going to explain this? And how was he?
no subject
"That 'n Ah don't think you've ever stuttered in front o'me in your life." She looked up at him, scared and trying not to be.
"The things Ah was sayin', it... I was afraid for somebody? Tryin' to help someone. But-" Her brow furrowed and she dragged a hand across her face, trying to smooth it out.
"That wasn't Creed. Ah heard his voice but it was- I was hearin' it, it wasn't... the memories weren't his." She was aware of how deeply uncomfortable Gambit was. It didn't make her feel any better, but it made her somehow much more secure in the feeling that she was angling toward the right thing. That wasn't a good sign for their relationship or whatever memories she was missing, but it also didn't mean she could back away from them. She slid her fingertips along her temples and into her hair, closing her eyes again, trying to utilize the techniques the Professor had taught her so long ago, and that Emma Frost had been reinforcing more recently. To not dig, to sift, to try to be open to what was there without being overwhelmed by it.
So when it hit her from a purely intellectual angle that clearly the source of the dark impenetrable memories was the person next to her, she couldn't help but feel startled and a little betrayed, though not by him.
Not yet.
She opened her eyes and slid her hands down to cover her mouth with the both of them, and looked at Gambit with an expression of dawning horror. How the hell was she going to explain this? And how was he?
"...It's you," she said, barely whispered, "isn't it? Oh, God, it's you."