As The World Turns Cold

Distance

"You're taking my daughter?"

Jacques Baudelaire glared at the man in front of him. Mercy was about to test the flavor of the icing when someone had come up behind her. She had been scared. All she wanted was to enjoy the birthday cake her mom had made her and now there were people in the room that wanted to stop her from having a good celebration.

"I won't allow you to do that, lad. I'll fight you if you try anythin'."

The sharp voice behind her laughed. "What an interesting brogue you have, Mr. Baudelaire. And as much as I'd like to sit here and have this discussion with you. I really must leave."

Mercy turned and saw him glance at an obsidian watch at his wrist.

"You truly are a bore to me. I want the girl."

Mercy's father glowered. "I already told you to leave my daughter alone. I suggest you take my advice and step away before someone gets hurt."

"What an interesting statement coming from a man who has much more to lose than I."

The man covered in black turned over his right shoulder. His gaze flitted across the room as he called to his accomplice standing inside the front door. "Boys, do come help me with this one. It looks like this family is in need of a bit of persuasion."

Mercy looked on as four more men filed into the room, each one carrying a silver pistol and a harpoon on their backs.

One of the men had garish red hair and a sinister smile. There was a scar running the length of his cheek and the way the others stood in formation behind him led Mercy to believe that this man was the leader of the squadron.

Red-head smirked and reached for one of the guns strapped to his back. "Don't worry, by the time we're done here, this family will begging for us to take their little abomination."

"This is not how I pictured spending the night with a girl." A raspy voice called through the darkness. A sigh followed the string of words and Mercy sensed something pushing on her forehead.

Her eyes flickered open for a moment, their gaze landing on her newest acquaintance. She felt a tremor flow throughout her body and she body tensed up at the shock.

Rogue looked at her with concern. "Come on, Tiger, now's not the time for you to play dead. Circus tricks don't work on me."

A wave of cold air hit her and she shivered uncontrollably as she sensed herself slipping under again.

The hand on her forehead moved, caressing her cheek. The act made her heart ache. How long had it been since anyone cared for her? This intimate act was almost torturous; making her heart beat sporadically like it was dying for more. If she were conscious, Mercy might have even blushed. Certainly, this was nothing more than a wanting for companionship. Her eyelids began to droop and she felt the peace that teetering on the edge of consciousness brought.

As Mercy's eyes closed, she heard a crinkle of fabric and was aware of the tilt of the mattress as Rogue leaned down towards her. "It's alright, Tiger. I'm here." He whispered into her ear as she fell back into the void. "Even if it takes days for you to return to me, I'll still be here waiting for you. Nothing will stop me."

Days seemed to pass by in a blur. Every once in a while she detected movement or thought she heard a faint voice mumbling in the darkness. One time, she felt something soft and wet touch her lips, like a washcloth being applied. Another time she sensed something cold hit her forehead. The cool chill calmed her frantic mind. She was going crazy not being able to move or open her eyes.

She could feel the growing urge to wake up, but it was a painstaking process. Her limbs were still weak and there was a dull pain in the recesses of her mind, like an ever-increasing headache. She noticed warm air encompassing her body and she almost expected to hear that low, reedy voice in her ear again. Odd, the thought made her shiver. Her body was awake enough to feel that, the ghost of affection breathing down her neck, begging her to wake up.

~†~

"To think I'm acting like a nurse instead of a knight. A pity, I can't possibly show off these good looks in a medical robe. I'd say one time for me was enough in one of those garments. Though if I'm every hurt remind me to find you a nurse's costume. I might feel better without any medication after seeing that."

His voice woke her from her state and she was aware of her hand as it tightened on the thick material underneath her, the other was already entrapped in someone else's hand. Mercy was aroused from her blanket of covet blackness and her eyes blinked open sporadically.

Her eyes adjusted to the warm light surrounding her. A lamp had been turned on to her left and on her right sat a boy with a bare chest and low-hung jeans. Mercy sensed the shiver coursing through her upon seeing him sitting beside her.

His hand gripped hers tightly while his head rested on his other arm. Rogue sighed heavily and muttered under his breath.

His eyes were closed, but Mercy knew he wasn't asleep. Most people don't act like smartasses when unconscious. Of course, this boy might prove to be the first to master that claim.

"Rogue?" Mercy hesitated, her voice sounded raspy. Water sounded like paradise, the way her throat was feeling.

She was still lingering on the edge of unconsciousness and she was afraid that any sudden move or word would break her resolve and she'd fall back into a deranged sleep.

Her bones ached and a hard pain reverberated through her tight chest. She felt as though her ribs were wrapped in a bind and it took most of her energy to breathe, but she'd had enough of being out of control of her body. Mercy didn't want to be useless anymore.

Rogue's head whipped up and he gave her a smile that was equal parts happy and fearful. His hand still gripped hers, but lightly this time, as if he was trying to distance himself from her.

"Did you catch that? Sorry," he shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a man of many words. Self-absorbed ones, albeit, but they are words no less."

A light grin formed on his face before being replaced by one of concern. He worried at his lip and dragged his other hand through his hair.

Mercy wrenched her hand from his grasp. Though pain was immediate and sharp from the movement, she still wasn't comfortable with this stranger-turned-ally laying his paws all over her.

As soon as her hand left his, cool air brushed against her fingertips and she missed the warmth. Despite the fight she put up a part of her would always crave human comfort, but she was used to distance and distance she would keep.

"How are you feeling, Tiger?"