Half a Moon: 14 Days of Celebrating Women

Title: Shared Boots
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Rogue(/Gambit), Calico, Ember
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Rogue has a gift for young Becca, with whom to shares so much in common.
Word Count: 2,056
Written For: HalfAMoon 2025 Day 3: Self-Care
Date Written: 2 February 2025
Warnings: Spoilers, Mild Christian Themes
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.








"Ya know," Rogue drawls gently as she emerges from behind hay bales in the stable. She kicks herself inwardly as Becca flinches. She's been in those little girl's almost exact boots. She should know better than to sneak up and scare the child! Even if she had wanted to catch her when it was only the two of them, it's no excuse. "Ya spend a lot o' time with tha' horse."

Becca glares at her, clearly not understanding that Rogue isn't intending to scold her. Ember's red ears flicker back and forth as he listens to the female mutants talk around him. Rogue slips around to his front, making sure the horse knows she is approaching and is watching her with his big but gentle eyes. She produces a sugar cube from her pocket, an actual sugar cube instead of just a little handful of sugar. It's not as easy to come by these things as it once was, but she knows what horses like.

Gentling the beast is easier than gentling the girl by far. A handful of sugar, a soft stroke down his long nose, and she's got him set at ease while his best friend is still eyeing her like a wild animal. Like a wild animal, Rogue knows, once more from experience, if she says the wrong thing, she'll spook and run just as fast, maybe even try to cut as hard with her words as some wild animals would with their claws or teeth. But Rogue has never been just one of the girls. Becca'll have to do a lot more than hurling insults if she intends to hurt her, and even if she gets the idea in her head, Rogue understands from whence it would hail. The child's been through a world of hurt already, not unlike she was at her age.

"Ah used to ride," Rogue continues, still stroking Ember's soft, velvety nose. She keeps her gaze focused on the horse, though she keeps track of Becca's movements too out of the corner of her eyes. To Rogue's secret delight, that admission is exactly what she needed to smoothly break the ice between them.

"You did? When? With Mister Remy?"

"Yeah, sometimes," she gives a slight nod, "but Remy ain't much o' one for horses. They don't tend to like th' stink o' his -- tobacco." She grins as a giggle actually slips out of Becca. She's heard the child laugh maybe a handful of times since she came to them, other than when she finally accepted the fact that she, too, is a mutant, not a Demon. The day will come when Rogue finally gets a few minutes alone with this child's mother. She looks forward to it, she thinks, eyes glaring and teeth setting for a moment but she forces herself to calm. It won't do to spook the horse or his rider, especially now that she's actually got them both opening up.

Ember whickers softly and tosses his head. Rogue scratches him between the ears, then brings her fingers softly down his nose again.

"He likes you," Becca observes.

"Ah guess Ah still got th' touch. Most o' us country gals do."

"If you didn't ride with Mister Remy, who did you ride with? If you don't mind my asking, of course? Mister Logan? I don't think Mister Kurt -- "

"Nah, horses don't tend to like Fuzzy much either, but Wolvy's actually got a way with horses. He's got a way with all animals really." And little girls too, she thinks but doesn't say. Logan has always made this seem so much easier, with Jubilee, with Kitty, even with Rogue herself. But now it's her turn. Besides, she can understand Becca probably better than anyone else here.

"Ah used to ride with friends. We X-Men, Becca, we're more than mutants, more'n a team. We're -- "

"Family," Becca softly interjects with a slight nod of her blonde head. "I know. I get it. The Outliers were a family too."

"You are a family," Rogue says, continuing to stroke Ember's nose. "Just because you're part o' us now doesn't mean you're not still family to each other. Ah hope to us too one day."

"I'm..." Becca starts to say but then stops. She focuses instead, for several long minutes, on scrubbing Ember's coat clean. At long last, feeling her high cheekbones flood with heat, she admits, "I'm not using to being part of a family. At least not one that -- that actually cares about each other."

"Well, we do. We X-Men care about each other an' care about you Outliers like y'all are family. Ah know this has all been fast an' kinda makeshift, but God's thrust us together fer a reason. He always does." Even looking back on her days with the Brotherhood, Rogue finds she believes that has always been true. Every group of people God has led her to she'll been led to for a reason, and for a time, every one of them has been a family. Even if the Brotherhood had never had any better intentions for her than Mystique had had, or than Becca's own momma had had for her.

"I don't know," Becca's murmuring again, focusing once more on bringing the brush down Ember's side.

"You don't have to. We're each open t' our own beliefs here."

"Wasn't Mister Kurt a Priest?" the girl asks tentatively.

"Yes." Rogue won't ask her how she came by that knowledge. It makes sense these scared, hurt kids would be investigating them just as they've been looking into them and their pasts and connections.

"But he -- He looks -- "

"Ah know," Rogue grins and nods, "so much like a Demon, but he's one of the gentlest, kindest folks you'll evah meet. People have tried many times to burn 'im at the stake fer th' way he looks, even so-called Christians, but he still loves with all his heart an' will do anythin' he can to keep from folks gettin' hurt. An' he doesn't judge not just on how folks look but in what they believe. You'll won't be judged here, Becca." She finally turns her face from Ember's to look directly into the child's scared eyes. The kid and the horse really do have a lot in common; she can see it in their eyes, the windows to their scarred souls. "Ah promise."

Becca nods but doesn't speak again for a long while. Rogue continues to pet Ember while his mistress keeps cleaning his coat. "This time," she finally ventures, "out in th' stables, out in an environment where you feel comfortable, that's important. Real important. Some o' mah earliest, fond memories wit' the X-Men -- " she won't go into those she has from their times fighting opposed to one another, at least not yet. " -- were of swimmin' an' ridin' horseback."

"You never did say who you used to ride with?"

"We X-Gals used to go ridin' quite often."

"On th' school grounds?"

"No. Th' Professor never did liken to us keepin' many animals at th' school 'cause we nevah knew when we were gonna be attacked." Experience had taught her, not long after she had started riding with Ororo and Jean, exactly why that was. The first time they had come from a mission to find the mansion completely destroyed, she and the others had been relieved that the horses had been untouched. While Scott had all but cried over his convertible, she and Ororo had shared a hushed conversation, planning to go check on the horses the next day and both being relieved they, and the cats that had taken up at the county stables, one of whom she'd almost brought home the day before, sneaking the little tom in in her jacket, were safe and far away from their own, destroyed home. 'Roro always had been a gentle, likened spirit. Rogue wishes she could have convinced her friend and former teammate to stay a spell with them, but she knew 'Ro had other paths she had to travel first, as Kurt had gently put it to her after her abrupt departure.

"I guess that makes sense," Becca is saying, pulling Rogue back out of her own reverie. "I worry about Ember sometimes, but he's strong." She laid a gentle hand on his ribcage, and horse and girl shared a long, almost whickering, and definitely troubled sigh. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost him."

"Let's make sure you nevah have to find out, shugah. But look, Ah, hum -- Ah came out fer another reason. Spendin' time wit' Ember an' all is very good, cathartic even for yoah soul. Like Ah said, Ah know. But self-care's important too."

Becca's head snaps up to glare at her. Her mouth has flown open, but whatever words are poised to shoot out from her tongue still as Rogue hands her an antique hairbrush with an emerald handle. "Color matches yoah eyes," Rogue spoke gently, tipping her head slightly.

"I -- " Becca fumbles for words. She reaches a hand up to her own hair. It's a bit messy now from her work in the stable and the corresponding sweat, but she's pretty certain it was fine earlier.

"Yoah's hair fine, Becca. Ah just thought -- Ah noticed -- Ah thought you might like a new brush, is all."

"For me?" the girl asks, and suddenly, instead of a pain-stricken, young woman, she looks like a child again, too big for her breeches and too scared of the whole darn world.

"Yes." Rogue holds the brush out closer to her. "If you want it."

"Thank you, Mo-- Thank you, Miss Rogue."

Rogue smiles. This isn't the first time she's heard the girl almost slip up and call her momma. She'll never be like either of the mean, domineering, and controlling mothers, but her heart is nonetheless touched by the reverence and clear adoration. The girl doesn't need to put her up on a pedestal though; Rogue already knows how hard, fast, and far any gal can fall from a pedestal. But she is still touched and very glad when Becca gently accepts the brush.

She thinks of another, of one of her first nights with the X-Men when she'd been trying desperately to fix her hair after a shower following a long, hard battle with her fingers. Jean had barely spoken to her -- she still had not liked her at the time -- but she had given her her first hairbrush that was not provided by somebody with an ulterior motive. Rogue's managed to hold on to that brush ever since. It's far simpler and cheaper than the brush she's just given Becca, but the child deserves something pretty and luxurious that is not provided by the woman who clearly haunts her every thought.

Becca stammers out her gratitude. Rogue smiles, nods, and finally lets Ember pull the apple out of her other jacket pocket with his teeth. The horse tosses the apple into the air, then grabs it and begins munching it. Both women immediately return their attention to him, and he basks in the attention while each feels much more at ease.

The next day, when Remy mentions the burned hairbrush he noticed while handling the trash, Rogue just nods, but inside she grins. She knows that brush is just one of the last remnants of Becca's time practically being imprisoned by her mother. She has the first privately owned thing of her new life, the first thing she can look at and not be reminded of her mother or her tortures, the first thing she can look at and know she is free at last.

"What you know, Chere?" Remy asks, staring at her.

But Rogue shakes just her head, smiles, and kisses his cheek. "Nevah you mind, Remy. Nevah you mind." Maybe her husband is right though, she thinks as she sashays away, feeling Remy's eyes on her and knowing he's already forgotten the brush. No, she thinks, he is right: those children are far better off with them than anybody else with whom they've encountered so far in their young lives. They'll be free and happy here; the X-Men will see to that, just as they saw to it with her no matter how many of their team wanted to bitch and grumble at the time.




The End