Disclaimer: Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox own the X-Men. What's been done to them is copyright 2000 by Siubhan. This can only be archived with my express permission.

Dear Crazy Mary
by Siubhan

Posted 10/20/00

Thanks per usual to Jedimom and Red Sith for their skillful betas.

Dear Crazy Mary,

Remember how I wrote to you a couple weeks ago to tell you I'd gotten clean, figured out how to control my lights and actually found a guy and a job? Well, you were right. It was all too good to be true.

What I didn't tell you about Mortimer is that he used to be part of Magneto's gang, and he's living at the Institute under house arrest because of his crimes. And yes, he made sure I knew all this before we started getting serious. That's not the part I'm complaining about. Remember back when the Brotherhood started getting violent again? Back when we stopped cheering them on? Well, he's the one responsible for ending that and getting everyone tossed into jail.

I'm sure you've put two and two together by now. When Magneto and Sabretooth escaped last week, they came for him. So what does he do? Sneak out when nobody's looking and offers himself to them. He didn't want anyone to get hurt, so he just walked out the front door and sacrificed himself.

He's alive, though. Just barely, by the time he was rescued, but he's alive.

So what am I complaining about? I'm scared of him, Mary. I didn't used to be. Not when he told me what he did as a member of the Brotherhood, and not when he showed me how dangerous his abilities were. I'm scared of him now because I know he'd rather sacrifice himself than put someone he cares about in danger. I'm under no illusions that he sacrificed himself for me this time. This was all about his niece and the kids at the school. But what happens next time? What if something comes up where he decides that offing himself to save me is the right thing to do? How the hell do I live the rest of my life knowing that my lover thought my life was more valuable than his?

I don't know what to do. I mean, I'm crazy about him, and he's so good to me. And it's not just that he's the first guy to ever want to date me. I mean, I've been with guys before, even though I've never dated. And I'm not gullible. Not by a long shot. He really is a great guy. I just don't know if I can handle this.

But I'm not telling him this yet. Not until he's better. I mean, we're talking about a guy who's covered head to toe in stitches and casts, and he's always checking to make sure I'm okay, and apologizing to me for putting me through this. He was also totally flabbergasted that anyone bothered rescuing him. He's not exactly the poster child for self-esteem. This is not the time to bring this up with him. Not by a long shot. But I don't know how long I'll be able to hide this from him.

I know, I know, right now you're sitting at the computer, waving your arms around, and yelling that everyone should be so lucky to find a guy like this. And I do feel lucky, especially considering how I look and all. Most guys couldn't see past all this, but since he's like me, he can. I just...it's a lot of responsibility, you know? I mean, we're talking a life here. If I stay with him, I'll always be afraid of what's coming around the bend. I'm going to have to talk to him about this sooner or later, I suppose, but not now. Not until he's better.

Oh, you'd be proud of me. I spent six days waiting by his bedside in the hospital, just a couple of feet away from a morphine drip, and I didn't touch it. I wanted to. You have no idea how badly I wanted to. Sometimes I'd just stare at it and nearly cry, but I didn't. I had help, too. Once I explained the problem to Agnes (his sister) and Jean (his doctor from the Institute), they were careful not to leave me alone with him. And now that he's back at the Institute, Jean's rigged it up so that the only way I can get access to his drip is to actively hurt him, and she knows I won't do that. Once again, I haven't told him a word of this, because I know his solution would be to stop taking painkillers of any kind so I wouldn't have that temptation in my face, and that's just not an option right now. He's a mess. He needs the drugs. I'll just have to deal with it, even though the thought of being so close to that drip makes my bones ache.

I have to go. Jean figured out a way for me to use my lights for healing, and it's time for another session. She needs to ride along in my brain as I do it, which is a very strange feeling, but it seems to be working. Mortimer's looking at months of recovery time, so anything I can do to speed that along would be great. We're just finished with his jaw, and today I think we're going to focus on his internal injuries. God, I can't believe he went through all that willingly.

Well, thanks for letting me vent. I'll write again soon.


 If you liked this, then email me: siubhan@siubhan.com. Feedback is the only payment I get for my stories, and the only way I know that I should keep writing.

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