Author: Elizabeth Wilde
Title: Little Hands
Distribution: Anyone who has my fic, anyone who wants it and asks,
.net/wilde [my site]
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or the song "Little Hands" by Duncan Sheik
[used for inspiration, not as part of the story].
'Ship: Rogue/Gambit
Classification: angst, general
Summary: Bobby is forced to come to terms with Marie's real feelings for him.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: the movie
Feedback: to wilde at biteyourtongue dot net
Notes: This is in no way a happy story. Seriously, major angst here.
Completed: June 16, 2003
I knew when we all went off to college that we would grow apart. Not that we had been inseparable to begin with, but we were friends. It allowed me to be close to her even when she was pushing most everybody else away. I liked that. Marie never showed the least bit of interest in me romantically speaking, but there's always hope, right? So I stayed a friend, taking whatever I could get, spending as much time with her as I could. Kitty told me I was an idiot. Jubilee told me I was an idiot. Even Dr. Grey told me I was an idiot, though she was a lot nicer about it and tried to make it sound like she was concerned for my well-being rather than about me looking like a dork chasing after a girl who had no interest in me.
Like I said, I didn't care. I had hope. College and distance dampened that hope. To my surprise, though, Marie wrote me every day via email for quite awhile. She told me details about her day, complained about how loud her perky roommate listened to the radio. She even called when she could pry the phone away from Marissa-that would be her roommate. We talked about more than we had face-to-face at the mansion. I think it was mostly because she was lonely, scared of being out on her own for the first time since coming to the mansion. She may have acquired a need to run from everything and everyone after absorbing Logan, but those eight months alone made her value friends and family more than she ever did before. Kitty and Jubilee stayed in touch with her too, but never as faithfully as I did. So I became her best friend.
Then a few months passed with no call. Summer vacation was right around the corner and I was living for it, having gone home rather than to the mansion at Christmas, which left me no opportunity to drive up to see Marie in Westchester. So I waited for summer vacation, staying in my room at nights pretending to study when all I was really doing was hoping for Marie to call. Have you ever heard the song "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" by The Police? That does it right there. That song says exactly how I feel about Marie. Sappy, isn't it?
I heard nothing. Summer came. I went back to the mansion, intent on training my powers in ways I hadn't been able to do in the midst of so many normal students. Accounting majors do not spontaneously ice over their desks, or so Xavier reminded me jokingly before I left for school. Ha, ha. I still held to some notion that exams were all that stood between Marie and calling me, between her and writing.
Imagine my surprise when I got out of my cab, a grin on my face, and saw Marie sitting on the front steps with some guy I had never laid eyes on. That in and of itself wouldn't have mattered much. The fact that he had his arm wrapped around her made me want to kill him. Slowly and painfully. So I kept smiling and walked up to them. "Long time no see, stranger!"
Marie smiled up at me, even going so far as to stand and give me a hug. Then she looked over to the other guy in a way I prayed she would someday look at me and I felt my stomach doing flip-flops. "This is Remy LeBeau. Remy, this here's Bobby Drake."
The man rose, easily making me look like a midget, though I'd never found my height anything but perfectly respectable before. Then there was his shaggy, reddish hair that seemed to shine in the sun. Looked like a freaking shampoo commercial. The only indication of his true nature was burning red on black eyes. I sensed trouble, and lots of it. Sure, Marie wasn't mine and never had been. That made it no less inconvenient, especially when any fool could read the spark between them. After the quick hug I shared with her, she latched back on to Remy's arm, and didn't seem to have any intention of letting it go.
Maybe sharing a beer in the kitchen with Logan later was the wrong course of action, but it felt good at the time. After the second one, he saw me getting tipsy and tried to convince me to have some coffee. I refused, naturally, since that was obviously the smart course of action. Instead I staggered out onto the porch and slurred something to Rogue about how she could do better. I insisted that she was too beautiful and too wonderful and too amazing to let some guy like Remy jerk her around. Stupid move.
Somehow Rogue didn't get angry, though. She was just disappointed, sad. She talked to me like a little kid, told me I was a great friend. "Don't think of you like that, sugar. You'll find somebody good. Just ain't me." Then she hugged me. Hugged me. A little, quick, rushed hug that felt awkward for us both and she slipped away. After that, I think I stopped hoping.
I convinced myself I didn't need her. I dated some cute redhead from my English class. I told her I loved her. I pretended I did, and I almost believed it. I almost felt it. I think I still sort of felt it when she divorced me after three years of trying to make something work. Our marriage was something like doing CPR on a test dummy. It never worked, and it wasn't meant to. From the sidelines and my supposedly detached vantage point, I watched Rogue and Remy fall deeper in love and fight hard enough to almost kill them both. And I wanted her. And I loved her.
And I kept my mouth shut.