Summary: Set in the movieverse. I started writing it for myself, since I was sorely disappointed that Gambit never showed up in any of the movies. Set a few years after the 3rd movie. Obviously Romy, since I've always been a huge pusher for that. Rogue meets Gambit and the insane relationship begins.
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men nor am I affiliated with Marvel in any way.
Author's Note: I do not know French, I naively rely on translators. I am also not so good with writing accents so, please use your imagination for those.
She was going back.
Back where? She paused, contemplating what to call the mansion.
Home.
The idea solidified quickly in her mind. Why not call it home? That's what it felt like. It was the one place she would be welcomed and wanted. Suddenly she wasn't so nervous about going back. No one would be ashamed of her, and no one would certainly blame her. After all, the circumstances leading her back to the mansion weren't entirely her fault.
The cure was supposed to work. She was supposed to be free of her mutant gene. She was supposed to live a normal human life. That all changed after the incident.
She shuddered.
The incident. The reason she was going back. She tried pushing the memory way back down again. It was fuzzy and painful. She couldn't remember all the details, except one: she'd hurt someone. Hurt someone bad, maybe even killed somebody.
Stop it! she scolded herself. It wasn't your fault. Your powers came back, you didn't know. With that final statement, she deliberately turned to focus on her surroundings. She couldn't think about the incident if she occupied her mind with something else.
The train wasn't that crowded. There were only a few people on, mostly keeping to themselves and pretending not to notice anyone else, like she was doing. Until her eyes glanced upon him.
He was sitting a few seats up across from her on one of those side seats at the front. No, not sitting, lounging. Lounging and staring at her. She quickly turned her head in the opposite direction to stare out the window, catching his reflection in the glass, still staring at her. He was a mutant. That much was obvious. No normal human had those kind of eyes— creepy, with red irises and black where the whites should be.
And he was staring at her. Why? Was he going to cause trouble? She was alone and did look fragile. He looked like the sort that might approach her, might try something…in fact, he looked a lot like a tramp or transient or something. Someone who followed his own rules and took what he wanted without any regard for morals or consequences. She had a feeling that right and wrong were very muddied lines in his world.
Well, too bad for him, I'm not as helpless as I look, she thought, smiling a touch to herself as she began to slowly remove her zip-up sweater. Underneath she wore a white tank top with long arm length gloves. The Creep cocked his head as she began taking the gloves off as nonchalantly as she could. She put the removed articles of clothing in the small backpack she carried with her.
She usually would never allow this much of her skin to be exposed. But, as Logan had taught her, it was best to be able to utilize her weapons easily, and if Creepy over there was going to cause trouble she was pretty sure she wouldn't be the first one going down.
Acting as if she didn't care he was there, she stared ahead, watching him from her peripheral view. She made mental notes about him, calculating her enemy and searching for weakness or things to use against him.
All her training came back to her in waves: long, shaggy hair – keeps falling in his eyes. That meant his visual was at a disadvantage. Taller than me, and looks like he works out. He was solid without being bulky, much like a jungle cat—that wouldn't be a problem either. She could scrap with the best of them. She'd even taken down Colossus in a few spars. His trench coat, however, would be a problem—not a lot of bare skin exposed. He was wearing gloves too, those shabby, hobo kind with the missing fingers.
Great. She had fingers and his face to work with if things got serious. At least with her newly returned powers she wouldn't be playing the victim very well.
Welcome back, Rogue, she thought grimly.
He noticed her the moment she got on the train and sat down. Mind you, he always noticed pretty girls. It was just rare that girls looked that pretty. She was definitely a delicious little dish, and one he'd like to taste. He thought about approaching her, laying on his oh-so-perfected Cajun charm and making her swoon and giggle. But upon observing her further, she looked…apprehensive and nervous. So, he took to watching her instead, just waiting for the right opportunity to approach her.
He could tell she was deep in thought, wrapped up in the inner workings of her own mind. As the train moved on however, she had become more aware of her surroundings… more aware of him. She had caught his eye once and quickly turned away. No doubt put off by his strange eye colour.
For a while, she took to staring out the train window, often brushing her hair behind her ear. Such interesting hair, he thought, with shocks of white framing her delicate face. Girls always dyed their hair these days with strange chunky highlights. He'd just never seen actual white hair.
It was then he toyed with idea that she might be a mutant, since there was no way her hair could be that white when the rest was a non-descript brown. It would have been that funny bleached colour.
Suddenly, his object of interest moved and began taking off her jacket, revealing a slender, pale figure in a modest tank top and…gloves? He would never understand women's fashions. He cocked his head with interest as she began removing the gloves. Must be warm, he thought dimly, and no wonder, with wearing arm length gloves under a jacket.
She sat forward, looking much more comfortable with her surroundings. He liked her sitting in this position better than staring out the window. He had a nice, clear view of her face. She had pretty green eyes, nice full lips, and if she was a mutant, he'd have even less trouble chatting her up. They'd have some common ground. With that, he resolved to get up and go over to her.
And he would have, if his timing hadn't been so off. The train was slowing to a stop. He had reached his destination and couldn't afford to stay on the train any longer, even to chat up a pretty girl. He had more pressing matters to attend to. Regretfully, he stood up and heaved his duffle bag over his shoulder. He gave her one last parting look, and exited the train.
It would have been an understatement to say that she wasn't relieved when the train stopped. She was almost home. Her luck was even starting to change. Creepy had gotten off the train before her and she didn't see him again.
She hurried down the near empty street.
Just a few more blocks and I'll be home. Her footsteps quickened in anticipation at being back at the mansion. She rounded the next corner and froze as a menacing figure from her past stood in front of her, deliberately blocking her way. Guess my luck ran out, Rogue thought grimly.
"Well, well, I never thought I'd see you in this city again. Wouldn't have noticed you getting off that train either, if it weren't for your hair," he said, casually flicking his lighter.
"John," Rogue gasped. "I- I don't want any trouble, y'here?"
"I don't think you are in any position to avoid it." He paused a moment, then began again conversationally, "You know what I despise more than humans, Marie?"
Rogue remained silent, already having a good idea.
John continued, "Mutants who want to be human. Mutants like you, Marie, and all those others who took the 'cure' with you. So weak." She could hear the contempt creeping into his voice as he stared at her still bare arms. "You make me sick."
He barely finished his sentence before lunging at her. Rogue shrieked as John knocked her to the ground. So much 'for no trouble', she thought as she hit the pavement with a sharp thud.
The fight didn't last long. Thankfully for Rogue, she had decided not to put her gloves or sweater back on after leaving the train. It was dusk and not many people were out, so she felt she was safe and wouldn't endanger anyone with her mutation.
John, on the other hand, had made a grave mistake. He had assumed that because she was walking around with bare arms that she was still rendered powerless. After all, he knew she had taken the cure. He'd had a run in with Bobby on that day.
The instant John's hands came in contact with her bare skin, her powers came into effect. Effortlessly, she was absorbing his thoughts and energy until he slumped down like a bag of sand on top of her. Once the contact was initiated, she couldn't stop her power from draining until she let go or the other person did. Panicked, she shoved him hard, careful only to touch his clothes. His limp body rolled off of her. Rogue frantically grabbed her bag, desperately tearing at the zipper to get to her gloves. A wave a relief tumbled over her as she found the familiar fabric and slipped them over her hands. She then returned to John to check for a pulse.
Remy had heard the shriek from a couple buildings away. No doubt that little punk flicking the lighter was to blame. He had passed the guy a street or so down, just hanging out on a nearly abandoned street, flicking a lighter while waiting. Remy knew trouble when he saw it. In fact, trouble and him were the best of friends. However, he had gotten no trouble from the wanna-be bad boy.
All Remy had to do was stare him down with his eyes. It was akin to looking into the eyes of the devil himself, and served its purpose. Wanna-be bad knew Remy was the superior and had let him pass on by. Too bad someone weaker came along, someone female. If there was one thing Remy hated, it was men who beat up women. Without hesitating he turned back and followed the shriek. Damsels in distress were his specialty, after all.
When he rounded the corner, he pulled out a few of his secret weapons—ordinary playing cards he used to charge with kinetic energy to throw at his opponents. On contact, the cards caused various degrees of explosions.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw two things that shocked him. One, Mr. Bad Wanna-be was unconscious (or dead) on the ground, and two, the woman kneeling over the body was his very own mystery girl from the train. She looked up and saw him. Quickly, almost feral-like, she grabbed something lying beside the guy. His lighter. She slowly rose, poised to fight. Remy heard the flick of the lighter and before his eyes the girl's hands became aflame.
At least this confirms she's a mutant, he thought dryly, before realizing what he must look like to her with glowing cards in his hands in an obvious fighter stance. Crap, she thinks I'm with this idiot in some sort of gang.
Remy uncharged the cards, and with a quick slight of hand trick he put them away. It was time to talk his femme fatale from the ledge and convince her he meant her no harm.
"Easy, Chere, I'm on your side," he said calmly, holding his hands up, palms open in surrender towards her.
"Like I'm gonna believe that, Creep!" she snarled back. Rogue eyed up 'Creepy from the train' as it all dawned on her. From the train. That was how John knew she was back. This guy was working with him and the Brotherhood.
"Look, I honestly mean you no harm, an' if we be startin' somethin' here, it'll attract a lot of attention and innocent people might get hurt. Fact we're already drawing a bit of a crowd with your hands on fire near an unconscious fellow." Remy was hoping she'd see reason in his words and back down.
Rogue was having trouble deciding what to do. If this guy was with the Brotherhood, then why did he care if people got hurt? And he did have a valid point about attracting attention. The last thing Rogue wanted was to end up on the six o' clock news in a warped anti-mutant story.
She resolved to trust the red-eyed mutant for now. He had put away his weapons and relaxed his stance. Everything in his body language said, "trust me". Even his eerie eyes contained no hint of malice or ulterior motives. In fact, despite the odd, eerie colouring, his eyes looked quite innocent and sincere.
"Okay," she breathed. "Okay."
She fell out of her fighter stance, dropping her arms to her sides. She saw relief sweep across his face.
"Good, okay. Now if you can jus' put out that fire display…"
Rogue froze. A wave of new terror and panic washed over her. She couldn't seem to turn off John's power. She shook her hands frantically and little embers shot about wildly. She looked back up at the mutant across from her.
"I-I can't!" she stammered, her voice rising. "I don't know how to shut it off!"
Without thinking, Remy sprung into action, shrugging off his trench coat and using it to douse out the flames. It seemed to be working and as the fire died down, Remy became very aware of the crowd surrounding them. People began to murmur to themselves, and tension filled the air.
In the crowd someone voiced what he'd been dreading.
"What did that mutant do to that boy?"
Remy knew it was only a matter of time before the crowd turned into a mob. He did not want to be around for that, and by the wide eyed look on his femme's face, he doubted she did too. It was time to make an exit, and a little bit of theatrics would do just the trick.
"Sorry, folks, shows over," he announced. "Nothing to see here." With that, he swept his trench coat around the frightened girl's shoulders, keeping her tucked safely under his arm as he gently led her away from the crowd.
An angry voice rose from the crowd. "Hey, what'd you do to that boy?"
"Absolutely nothing," Remy replied, tossing a playing card with a slight magenta glow to the ground between himself and the crowd. "Au revoir."
He turned and continued walking away.
"Hey! Just a minute, buddy!" Someone from the crowd advanced towards them. The playing card went off.
BOOM!