Rumor has It
By Ariesque
Genre: Angst? Not sure at the moment--maybe you can tell me :)
Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language
Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.
Author's Note: Miss me much? I've had this chapter kept on my computer for God knows how long, and I finally decided it wasn't going to get any better. It's a cluster of different POVs of the X-Men on Remy's departure of the group. It gets twisted and confusing, but it'll all come together in the end. Trust me. And I'm sorry if the expectations of this epilogue were high and I've dashed your hopes on my writer's block. Someday, I plan to overcome it.
Chapter One: Two Months After
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dearest Rogue,
I've often wondered how you've been, but am yet to enclose any returning address, unbeknowest to our connection, Jubes, because I feel there is no reason. And now I've let my eagerness take over me. You see, when I departed, I couldn't bear looking back, seeing your disappointed face that left a forever imprint on my mind. I've found it hard to cope without hearing the familiar footsteps of yours down the hall that always made my heart skip a beat. I know you doubt me, but I had been learning as much about you as I could to love what you did and dislike what hurt you. Since I've left, I can't bring myself to learn how to forget you. You don't know it, but when you cursed my name, I found I loved you even more. When you blushed when I spoke to you, I was elated. And when you made John your beau, my heart was dashed against the haven I thought could be mine. I can't help thinking I've lost someting I've wanted all my life. Please respond; I've enclosed a returning address to hear your thoughts.
Remy LeBeau
***
John looked up; eyes glistening with a sickening, evil malice. Crushing the letter between his hands, he angrily tossed it into the fireplace, flames devouring the paper with blatant greed.
He then smiled, feeling accomplished and relieved. "Have dat as a message," he scoffed, spitting into the fire.
***
Remy LeBeau was tall for his age. If he had any pride in anything, he'd say he loved how tall he was. Now as he ran, he couldn't have thanked the Lord enough for his long legs which swiftly carried him down the streets of New Orleans. Some people have all the luck, he thought to himself, climbing the stairs to the top of the building. He dreamed he was running from the cops, flying with his billowing trench coat behind him like that of Superman and his cloak. He had sailed through the clouds, away from the horror and torment of the sirens flashing angrily at him, cursing his getaway. Oh, it was glorious. Remy knew that the sky was his only escape. That was why he had taken the staircase instead of the elevator. The challenge was there and he was able to take it. The cash was implanted in one of his many pockets, safely tucked away from purgers' eyes and his concern. Two at a time, he reminded himself. It never helped anyone to be slow when it came to running.
He was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard them shout. The Cops, he grumbled in his brain, irritably. They always ruined perfect getaways, that's for sure. The door at the top was locked, so he kicked it open. It flung out with such ease that Remy smirked while gathering his loot, checking its bulk in his pocket.
This is just too simple, he laughed to himself. A helicopter hovered just miles away from the building as Remy ran to the edge. A look over his shoulder told him that thirty stories from the solid ground would be a nasty splatter. By now the police had cornered him, both sky and on the same level.
"Freeze!" cried one, a gun poised at Remy, ready to shoot. So were thirty others. Remy grinned, counting them.
"I'd hate t' cut it all short, fellas," he said, inching nearer to the ledge so that he was soon standing with his feet teetering on the edge. "But I have a date with destiny, and if y' knew anythin' about thet, y' also know y' can never be late."
"Don't do it!" screamed another man. Remy spread his arms and leaned back.
He fell through the air, all the while laughing.
~~~1. St. John Allerdyce~~~
I still remember dat day when Remy left fer New Orleans, draggin' in his only suitcase intah Bill's Pub, fer a parting drink he scheduled. I was sittin' in dah corner, glupin' down my fourth shot when he came saunterin' in, as if he owned the joint. Slidin' intah dah seat in front o' me, Remy mumbled a hello and jumped a chance tah shoot fer conversation by takin' out a small box and slammed it on the table. I jumped with the shot glasses.
"A little hard, are'ncha, Rems?" I noticed. He ignored me and opened dah box.
Inside was a ring bearin' a grey stone.
"I've been meanin' t' give dis t' her," he explained, a pensive look crossin' his eye, "but now thet's it's over w' Jean, I'd like ya t' give it t' Rogue." He slid the box over after closin' it. I caught and clamped my hand over it.
"Evil Rems," I scolded, playfully. "Never e'en loved dah Shelia, eh?" He rummaged in his pocket for a fag (cigarette). Failin' tah find one, he rasped, "Really, John. Can't y' give yur fellow acolyte some heads up fer a long trip?" Standin' suddenly, he knocked over two o' dah four glasses on dah table. I stared, ungrateful.
"Just like dat, huh? Gonna leave wi'out sharin' a tinny (beer) wit me?"
"Sorry, Johnnie. Haven't t' time now." He laid a couple dollars on the table. "There. So y' won't bicker 'bout me while I'm gone." He grabbed my hand and gave it a hearty shake. "Take care, bloke (man) is it? Dun be so hard on Piotr and," he tightened his grip around my hand for a moment, "good luck w' Rogue."
I can't recall a moment where I had been more dumbfounded in my life. Watchin' him go without another word let bitter questions brew in my stomach. I mean, what would Magneto say when he finds Remy gone?
Piotr?
And what about Rogue?
-Good luck with Rogue- He had meant it, I decided. Remy hated to see relationships bloom if he weren't invovled in some way. Tah have Remy talk to -me- about Rogue was like man steppin' on dah moon.
Impossibly impossible. Too good tah be true.
Sittin' in my dingy room back at Magneto's Dome, I glared at the ring, livid. No wonder Remy didn't give it to Jean -- it was absolutely hideous. And I won't give it tah Rogue, I thought, decidedly.
She deserved better anyway.
First thing dah next day, I took it to Gerald's (seeing dat it was the only jewlery shop in miles of Bayville) tah see if I could refund or exchange it. Dah clerk told me I could do neither, since it was purchased in November of last year. I walked out of there, more disappointed than I had started. How now? Rogue would never accept dis.
"What dah -hell- is it made of anyway?!" I wondered aloud once I got back to examinin' it. I held the ring between my fingers, rackin' my brain. Finally comin' tah a conclusion that it was more cubic zirconium dan anythin', I placed it back in the box and sighed. I could never afford tah buy another ring. Which drew another question from his mind:
HOW DID REMY EVER HACK THIS MUCH MONEY TO BUY A RING HE AIN'T EVER GONNA GIVE? UNLESS IT WAS BOUGHT WITH SOMEONE IN MIND...
"He knew he'd never give it to Jean, so maybe he only bought it tah satisfy someone's taste. To please someone..."
Rogue. It was the only name dat popped into my mind. Now more than ever I couldn't give her dat ring.
Dat night, I trashed in my bed, thinkin' 'bout Remy and Rogue and dah ring. Did he mean tah give it to her from me or from him? He knows I'm with Rogue...
Good luck with Rogue. The thought of Remy likin' Rogue boiled my blood. I took up the box and tossed it to one side carelessly before grunting. He's gone now, I recollected, reassurin' myself. He's gone, possibly thousands of miles away by now with dat girl [what's-her-face?], Belladonna, one way or the other, dreamin'.
"And I'm frickin' lying awake," I said to myself.
Good luck with Rogue. Getting up, I grabbed the box and threw it across the room. It banged against one far wall and dropped behind my dresser. In the next room, I could hear Piotr stir from the noise; then silence once more.
In the morning, I finally concluded that Remy meant tah give it to Rogue from me. Picking it up and findin' it still intact, I decided to give it to her in a couple of weeks. Maybe she'll forget he e'en bought it fer her in the first place, if he did at all.
Which is exactly what I did. Feelin' it in my pocket, I knew she'd love it the moment she stepped into Swiss Louis*. Black and purple from head tahoe, she staggered in, her two green eyes shinin'somethin' dangerous. I knew dat look and it told me not tah bother her too much tonight. She took her seat as the waiter placed her ginger ale I ordered in front of her. She dropped her things to one side, avoidin' my eyes for a minute. I cleared my throat, unsure what was goin' on, and started her on a conversation.
"Well, you look lovely tonight, Sheila," I said. It was true; she was Gothic, yes, but beautiful. Right now, though, she looked especially frail, and I wished she wouldn't make me wonder so. "How's everythin..." But as Gambit did, she jumped any more of my attempted conversation by saying, "John, Remy's dead."
I stared, speechless. Watching as she silently sipped her drink, I didn't know whether to laugh or weep. Observing her dry eyes, I did neither and continued to stare.
Then, words managed to form in my throat and I was able to speak again. "H-How do you know?" She took up her bag and rummaged through it, before slapping down a newspaper with the bold headline: MAN JUMPS TO DEATH; BODY REMAINS YET TO BE FOUND. There was a picture, clumsily shot from a distant view, of a man falling in front of a dreary building.
"Hank zoomed in a couple times, and they're sayin' it's him," she rasped, rather severely. "We're goin' to Nawlins tomorrow, yah know. Prof. wants proof." Rogue took out a fag, and I shot her a weary glance.
"I thought you said it was a one time deal," I spat, snatchin' it from her thin, gloved fingers. Her eyes blazed green fire.
"Well, nicotene is addictin'," she said as-a-matter-o-factly, and finished her G.A. "And anyway, Ah wasn't stayin' long, really. Ah gotta git back--Jean's a mess." She got up and bumped the table a bit, as Remy did when he brought dat ring down on dah table. Dah whole time we were together, I didn't bring up dah ring. She looked so disgruntled, I knew she wanted me tah keep away. "Ah'll see ya tomorrow at ten, 'kay, Johnnie?" She kissed dah tip of her gloved finger and pressed it against my own lips. Hurrying away, I could see her lightin' another fag and found myself hurtin' real bad for her.
"Love yah," I mumbled, but nobody but dah candle in front of my face actually heard me.
~~2. Hank McCoy~~
Death by suicide isn't as glorious as many preceive it. I wasn't particularily happy when I blew up that picture on the front of Bayville Times, having to find that it was Remy LeBeau, making the fatal jump to destiny. He didn't seem all that bad to begin with-- cheeky, maybe, but definitely someone worth having on their side. But, not to sound cheeky myself, it seems that Mr. LeBeau did the plunge for Jean, for let us not forget the crushing, defiant blow that she gave him just a few hours before their wedding,
by
calling
it
off.
Shock turned to confusion, as everyone regarded Mr. LeBeau as the sort to not worry about, but then again, we thought the same of Scott, who smashed his car into a wall. That being said, you could feel the anxiety when the news reached Xavier, who had thought insanity was overruled to the last degree in his manor. Being mournfully wrong, he immediately called together a meeting, including the acolyte Piotr Rasputin without the presence of John Allerdyce for he could not be found.
Holding up the newspaper, he went directly to the chase: "As you know, Remy LeBeau has been gone for three weeks now, staying with his family in New Orleans, Lousiana." He cleared his throat for this next part. "Take a look a this--" he pointed to the picture with the headline: MAN JUMPS TO DEATH; BODY REMAINS YET TO BE FOUND. "Mr. McCoy has enlarged the face--" here he held up two photos clearly showing Mr. LeBeau's face, of benevolence and insanity, "--and we've reached some sort of conclusion of the man to be Remy." Silence ruled the faces of the X-Men, and I noticed Miss Rogue's to darken a bit, not with surprise but with disappointment. "We are not sure if he is dead at all; so I suggested that the new recruits stay, with the exception of Jubilation--" her head lifted with curiousity-- "and we find the truth out for ourselves." Ten in the morning they would be leaving, and I would stay with Ororo, since she was with child, and Logan would go in search of the supposed body.
I couldn't help recalling that dreadful day of April sixteen, when I was trying to get my suit on, trying to fit into the jacket that seemed five sizes smaller than what Jean had me fitted in the first place. There was a distant noise outside my door, and I cracked it open -- a peek wouldn't hurt, I thought-- and saw Mr. LeBeau strolling down the corridor, a tattered suitcase carried by one hand. Poking my head out, I inquired about his own matters, wondering where he could possibly be going. Turning to me, I saw the face so youthful and discouraged, as if he were a writer that turned to his own books only to find they had been devoured by ruthless bookworms. He nodded to me, thinking of an answer.
"I'm leavin', Mr. McCoy."
"And your purpose?" I questioned. It alarmed me that he was, and wondered about Jean.
He shrugged in response.
"And Jean?"
He shrugged again.
"Why then?" His glare was so demeaning, I grew perplexed.
"Jean called it off. Good bye Mr. McCoy." And he walked away. It wasn't his answer that appalled me--it was the way I just let him go.
I don't think I ever felt more guiltier in my life.
~~3. Jubilation Lee~~
Besides playing with Jean's heart, messing with Rogue's mind, and driving Scott over the edge, I'd hafta say this is certainly the cruelest thing Remy LeBeau has ever done in his life. Once we get to New Orleans to find his body [and I KNOW there IS no body], everyone will find him alive and think themselves foolish for doubting the Scandilous Remy would ever go back on his word of returning. Nuh-uh.
Or at least, that's what he's driven me to believe.
But I'm not really surprised that he turned the tables on us and jumped off some forty-story building to rouse any suspicions of what he's been up to down in that city. He's known for that, and Xavier'd be darned if he ever came across -that- prediction. I've seen a brighter spark in that red eye of Remy's, especially when he picked me up after school a mere three weeks ago, and drove us down to the cannery for a slice of pizza. He ordered anchovies on the side of his to give to me, because he knows that's what I like best. Remy always said, "I have somethin' t' tell you," and I always expected another new glimpse of Rogue: last week it was her personality he wanted to know better, the week before was the wall barricading the two of them that he wanted to climb, and the week before that, was the discovery that she liked roses. But instead, he surprised me with, "I'm gonna go down to Nawlins f' a couple a weeks. Xavier wants me t' visit my folks." He winked as I sunk my teeth into my pizza, which now was made tasteless. Needless to say, I could've gone with another round of Rogue info.
"But you said you hated them," I recalled, taking up my fork and eating the anchovies by themselves. He shrugged.
"I guess I need it. Being up in high society makes y' haughty," and he laughed, heartily. I was relieved, for I hadn't heard such an honest laugh in a while, and said, "This isn't to get away from Jean, is it?" He laughed again and reassured me it was for a greater cause. "My spirits are at a low, petite; I musn't hurt myself," and he got this far-off look in his eye that told me he was going for something much more.
I sat up then, finishing my anchovies, and replied, "Then go. If you'll write everyday, I won't complain." He smiled, which made me smile, and we sat like stunning idiots, smiling at nothing for a long time.
"Den, I shall. Honest t' Diu, I shall," and we shook on his oath. He didn't break it, for when he left, he sent me heaps of stories and glorious triumphs and adventures, making me wonder if he'd ever have the heart to come back again. Included in all the envelopes he sent everyday, there was a decent note to Rogue, which I always gave to John, who always was there to hastily take away her mail for her. Rems never left a returning address, which distressed me, but I knew he would always know I read his lengthy letters and considered them heartily.
So if he should be dead, he's really missing out.
The last letter he wrote to me was the day before the newspaper came out. He said: With kindest pleasure, dearest Jubes, I am to take a train back to Bayville in the morning tomorrow. I'm lookin forward to seein you once more, along with everyone else." When news came that he had "died", I was disturbed, thinking Remy had gone too far this time, but managed to not care so heavily, with the knowledge that he could take care of himself.
I slept through most of the flight there; woke when Logan was just about landing the Jet. When we did descend, I forced myself to get up as Scott put us into groups: him, Jean, Kurt, Evan, Logan, and Piotr, Rogue, Kitty, and John. Xavier told me I was to stay with him, and meaning not to displease him, walked with him without complaint. Kurt blew a kiss, Jean waved timidly, and Rogue patted my shoulder as they separated, wandering through the bayous of 'Nawlins' as Remy'd like to say. Looking around, I tried to look pleasant and wondered who to blame for being cruel to me now.
***
"Please Rogue, you're running up too fast--we should stop once in awhile," John acknowledged, breathless and vexed. She turned to him with an indignant look in her eye.
"Ah thought we weren't gonna fidget and complain, Johnny. If ya were gonna complain, why didn't ya stay behind?" she spat, a leg paused over a rock. Something in John's eyes flickered malevolently; he paused from exhaustion.
"Yah only care fer dat damn Cajun! Finding him yur only concern?" he digressed angrily, finding his voice despite the lack of breath. A look of malice flushed her face generously. Kitty recognized this and came to her side, not wanting a brawl.
"Like, I think we should split for a while, ya know? Petey, take John thataway--" she pointed to the marshes, "Rogue and I will explore this other side." With that, she grabbed her roommate's arm and dragged her across the bayou. It wasn't until they were clear out of the others' way, when Kitty let go, with much tryanny from Rogue.
"What's your problem? Ah was fahne."
"Fine? Like, you were gonna kill your boyfriend. Like, that's not fine."
"Ah prefer it to some of your expressions. God, Ah need a cig." The moonlight suddenly passed through the clouds; the night seemed threatening. All at once, there were the sounds of giant footsteps, buzzing misquitoes and the evil groans of alligators. Kitty grabbed unto Rogue's arm, looking for some haven. But when she had a glimpse of Rogue, she found a stranger in her place; an unfriendly eye piercing her sight.
Kitty screamed.
Phasing through the man, she ran. Her mind halted and asked the confounded question: Where was Rogue? Surely they hadn't taken her...had they? She turned back, but when she did, the moon revealed its shine through the fog, and then there was no Rogue; no one else returned her desperate calls. Overcome with fear, she panicked, and hurried back, too terrified to scream.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Special Thanks To: BOOM-BOOM, Meowzkat, gothgirl05, Goddess Evie, SadYear, Seraphim, TayTay, simple-charlotte126 for adding me to their favorite's lists! I'm quite flattered :)
Also, thanks to Carla for going to EMIA and signing the guestbook! Makes me proud that people actually go there anymore...
Up next: Piotr's POV, Henri LeBeau's Journal, and Rogue's. Is it
By Ariesque
Genre: Angst? Not sure at the moment--maybe you can tell me :)
Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language
Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.
Author's Note: Miss me much? I've had this chapter kept on my computer for God knows how long, and I finally decided it wasn't going to get any better. It's a cluster of different POVs of the X-Men on Remy's departure of the group. It gets twisted and confusing, but it'll all come together in the end. Trust me. And I'm sorry if the expectations of this epilogue were high and I've dashed your hopes on my writer's block. Someday, I plan to overcome it.
Chapter One: Two Months After
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dearest Rogue,
I've often wondered how you've been, but am yet to enclose any returning address, unbeknowest to our connection, Jubes, because I feel there is no reason. And now I've let my eagerness take over me. You see, when I departed, I couldn't bear looking back, seeing your disappointed face that left a forever imprint on my mind. I've found it hard to cope without hearing the familiar footsteps of yours down the hall that always made my heart skip a beat. I know you doubt me, but I had been learning as much about you as I could to love what you did and dislike what hurt you. Since I've left, I can't bring myself to learn how to forget you. You don't know it, but when you cursed my name, I found I loved you even more. When you blushed when I spoke to you, I was elated. And when you made John your beau, my heart was dashed against the haven I thought could be mine. I can't help thinking I've lost someting I've wanted all my life. Please respond; I've enclosed a returning address to hear your thoughts.
Remy LeBeau
***
John looked up; eyes glistening with a sickening, evil malice. Crushing the letter between his hands, he angrily tossed it into the fireplace, flames devouring the paper with blatant greed.
He then smiled, feeling accomplished and relieved. "Have dat as a message," he scoffed, spitting into the fire.
***
Remy LeBeau was tall for his age. If he had any pride in anything, he'd say he loved how tall he was. Now as he ran, he couldn't have thanked the Lord enough for his long legs which swiftly carried him down the streets of New Orleans. Some people have all the luck, he thought to himself, climbing the stairs to the top of the building. He dreamed he was running from the cops, flying with his billowing trench coat behind him like that of Superman and his cloak. He had sailed through the clouds, away from the horror and torment of the sirens flashing angrily at him, cursing his getaway. Oh, it was glorious. Remy knew that the sky was his only escape. That was why he had taken the staircase instead of the elevator. The challenge was there and he was able to take it. The cash was implanted in one of his many pockets, safely tucked away from purgers' eyes and his concern. Two at a time, he reminded himself. It never helped anyone to be slow when it came to running.
He was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard them shout. The Cops, he grumbled in his brain, irritably. They always ruined perfect getaways, that's for sure. The door at the top was locked, so he kicked it open. It flung out with such ease that Remy smirked while gathering his loot, checking its bulk in his pocket.
This is just too simple, he laughed to himself. A helicopter hovered just miles away from the building as Remy ran to the edge. A look over his shoulder told him that thirty stories from the solid ground would be a nasty splatter. By now the police had cornered him, both sky and on the same level.
"Freeze!" cried one, a gun poised at Remy, ready to shoot. So were thirty others. Remy grinned, counting them.
"I'd hate t' cut it all short, fellas," he said, inching nearer to the ledge so that he was soon standing with his feet teetering on the edge. "But I have a date with destiny, and if y' knew anythin' about thet, y' also know y' can never be late."
"Don't do it!" screamed another man. Remy spread his arms and leaned back.
He fell through the air, all the while laughing.
~~~1. St. John Allerdyce~~~
I still remember dat day when Remy left fer New Orleans, draggin' in his only suitcase intah Bill's Pub, fer a parting drink he scheduled. I was sittin' in dah corner, glupin' down my fourth shot when he came saunterin' in, as if he owned the joint. Slidin' intah dah seat in front o' me, Remy mumbled a hello and jumped a chance tah shoot fer conversation by takin' out a small box and slammed it on the table. I jumped with the shot glasses.
"A little hard, are'ncha, Rems?" I noticed. He ignored me and opened dah box.
Inside was a ring bearin' a grey stone.
"I've been meanin' t' give dis t' her," he explained, a pensive look crossin' his eye, "but now thet's it's over w' Jean, I'd like ya t' give it t' Rogue." He slid the box over after closin' it. I caught and clamped my hand over it.
"Evil Rems," I scolded, playfully. "Never e'en loved dah Shelia, eh?" He rummaged in his pocket for a fag (cigarette). Failin' tah find one, he rasped, "Really, John. Can't y' give yur fellow acolyte some heads up fer a long trip?" Standin' suddenly, he knocked over two o' dah four glasses on dah table. I stared, ungrateful.
"Just like dat, huh? Gonna leave wi'out sharin' a tinny (beer) wit me?"
"Sorry, Johnnie. Haven't t' time now." He laid a couple dollars on the table. "There. So y' won't bicker 'bout me while I'm gone." He grabbed my hand and gave it a hearty shake. "Take care, bloke (man) is it? Dun be so hard on Piotr and," he tightened his grip around my hand for a moment, "good luck w' Rogue."
I can't recall a moment where I had been more dumbfounded in my life. Watchin' him go without another word let bitter questions brew in my stomach. I mean, what would Magneto say when he finds Remy gone?
Piotr?
And what about Rogue?
-Good luck with Rogue- He had meant it, I decided. Remy hated to see relationships bloom if he weren't invovled in some way. Tah have Remy talk to -me- about Rogue was like man steppin' on dah moon.
Impossibly impossible. Too good tah be true.
Sittin' in my dingy room back at Magneto's Dome, I glared at the ring, livid. No wonder Remy didn't give it to Jean -- it was absolutely hideous. And I won't give it tah Rogue, I thought, decidedly.
She deserved better anyway.
First thing dah next day, I took it to Gerald's (seeing dat it was the only jewlery shop in miles of Bayville) tah see if I could refund or exchange it. Dah clerk told me I could do neither, since it was purchased in November of last year. I walked out of there, more disappointed than I had started. How now? Rogue would never accept dis.
"What dah -hell- is it made of anyway?!" I wondered aloud once I got back to examinin' it. I held the ring between my fingers, rackin' my brain. Finally comin' tah a conclusion that it was more cubic zirconium dan anythin', I placed it back in the box and sighed. I could never afford tah buy another ring. Which drew another question from his mind:
HOW DID REMY EVER HACK THIS MUCH MONEY TO BUY A RING HE AIN'T EVER GONNA GIVE? UNLESS IT WAS BOUGHT WITH SOMEONE IN MIND...
"He knew he'd never give it to Jean, so maybe he only bought it tah satisfy someone's taste. To please someone..."
Rogue. It was the only name dat popped into my mind. Now more than ever I couldn't give her dat ring.
Dat night, I trashed in my bed, thinkin' 'bout Remy and Rogue and dah ring. Did he mean tah give it to her from me or from him? He knows I'm with Rogue...
Good luck with Rogue. The thought of Remy likin' Rogue boiled my blood. I took up the box and tossed it to one side carelessly before grunting. He's gone now, I recollected, reassurin' myself. He's gone, possibly thousands of miles away by now with dat girl [what's-her-face?], Belladonna, one way or the other, dreamin'.
"And I'm frickin' lying awake," I said to myself.
Good luck with Rogue. Getting up, I grabbed the box and threw it across the room. It banged against one far wall and dropped behind my dresser. In the next room, I could hear Piotr stir from the noise; then silence once more.
In the morning, I finally concluded that Remy meant tah give it to Rogue from me. Picking it up and findin' it still intact, I decided to give it to her in a couple of weeks. Maybe she'll forget he e'en bought it fer her in the first place, if he did at all.
Which is exactly what I did. Feelin' it in my pocket, I knew she'd love it the moment she stepped into Swiss Louis*. Black and purple from head tahoe, she staggered in, her two green eyes shinin'somethin' dangerous. I knew dat look and it told me not tah bother her too much tonight. She took her seat as the waiter placed her ginger ale I ordered in front of her. She dropped her things to one side, avoidin' my eyes for a minute. I cleared my throat, unsure what was goin' on, and started her on a conversation.
"Well, you look lovely tonight, Sheila," I said. It was true; she was Gothic, yes, but beautiful. Right now, though, she looked especially frail, and I wished she wouldn't make me wonder so. "How's everythin..." But as Gambit did, she jumped any more of my attempted conversation by saying, "John, Remy's dead."
I stared, speechless. Watching as she silently sipped her drink, I didn't know whether to laugh or weep. Observing her dry eyes, I did neither and continued to stare.
Then, words managed to form in my throat and I was able to speak again. "H-How do you know?" She took up her bag and rummaged through it, before slapping down a newspaper with the bold headline: MAN JUMPS TO DEATH; BODY REMAINS YET TO BE FOUND. There was a picture, clumsily shot from a distant view, of a man falling in front of a dreary building.
"Hank zoomed in a couple times, and they're sayin' it's him," she rasped, rather severely. "We're goin' to Nawlins tomorrow, yah know. Prof. wants proof." Rogue took out a fag, and I shot her a weary glance.
"I thought you said it was a one time deal," I spat, snatchin' it from her thin, gloved fingers. Her eyes blazed green fire.
"Well, nicotene is addictin'," she said as-a-matter-o-factly, and finished her G.A. "And anyway, Ah wasn't stayin' long, really. Ah gotta git back--Jean's a mess." She got up and bumped the table a bit, as Remy did when he brought dat ring down on dah table. Dah whole time we were together, I didn't bring up dah ring. She looked so disgruntled, I knew she wanted me tah keep away. "Ah'll see ya tomorrow at ten, 'kay, Johnnie?" She kissed dah tip of her gloved finger and pressed it against my own lips. Hurrying away, I could see her lightin' another fag and found myself hurtin' real bad for her.
"Love yah," I mumbled, but nobody but dah candle in front of my face actually heard me.
~~2. Hank McCoy~~
Death by suicide isn't as glorious as many preceive it. I wasn't particularily happy when I blew up that picture on the front of Bayville Times, having to find that it was Remy LeBeau, making the fatal jump to destiny. He didn't seem all that bad to begin with-- cheeky, maybe, but definitely someone worth having on their side. But, not to sound cheeky myself, it seems that Mr. LeBeau did the plunge for Jean, for let us not forget the crushing, defiant blow that she gave him just a few hours before their wedding,
by
calling
it
off.
Shock turned to confusion, as everyone regarded Mr. LeBeau as the sort to not worry about, but then again, we thought the same of Scott, who smashed his car into a wall. That being said, you could feel the anxiety when the news reached Xavier, who had thought insanity was overruled to the last degree in his manor. Being mournfully wrong, he immediately called together a meeting, including the acolyte Piotr Rasputin without the presence of John Allerdyce for he could not be found.
Holding up the newspaper, he went directly to the chase: "As you know, Remy LeBeau has been gone for three weeks now, staying with his family in New Orleans, Lousiana." He cleared his throat for this next part. "Take a look a this--" he pointed to the picture with the headline: MAN JUMPS TO DEATH; BODY REMAINS YET TO BE FOUND. "Mr. McCoy has enlarged the face--" here he held up two photos clearly showing Mr. LeBeau's face, of benevolence and insanity, "--and we've reached some sort of conclusion of the man to be Remy." Silence ruled the faces of the X-Men, and I noticed Miss Rogue's to darken a bit, not with surprise but with disappointment. "We are not sure if he is dead at all; so I suggested that the new recruits stay, with the exception of Jubilation--" her head lifted with curiousity-- "and we find the truth out for ourselves." Ten in the morning they would be leaving, and I would stay with Ororo, since she was with child, and Logan would go in search of the supposed body.
I couldn't help recalling that dreadful day of April sixteen, when I was trying to get my suit on, trying to fit into the jacket that seemed five sizes smaller than what Jean had me fitted in the first place. There was a distant noise outside my door, and I cracked it open -- a peek wouldn't hurt, I thought-- and saw Mr. LeBeau strolling down the corridor, a tattered suitcase carried by one hand. Poking my head out, I inquired about his own matters, wondering where he could possibly be going. Turning to me, I saw the face so youthful and discouraged, as if he were a writer that turned to his own books only to find they had been devoured by ruthless bookworms. He nodded to me, thinking of an answer.
"I'm leavin', Mr. McCoy."
"And your purpose?" I questioned. It alarmed me that he was, and wondered about Jean.
He shrugged in response.
"And Jean?"
He shrugged again.
"Why then?" His glare was so demeaning, I grew perplexed.
"Jean called it off. Good bye Mr. McCoy." And he walked away. It wasn't his answer that appalled me--it was the way I just let him go.
I don't think I ever felt more guiltier in my life.
~~3. Jubilation Lee~~
Besides playing with Jean's heart, messing with Rogue's mind, and driving Scott over the edge, I'd hafta say this is certainly the cruelest thing Remy LeBeau has ever done in his life. Once we get to New Orleans to find his body [and I KNOW there IS no body], everyone will find him alive and think themselves foolish for doubting the Scandilous Remy would ever go back on his word of returning. Nuh-uh.
Or at least, that's what he's driven me to believe.
But I'm not really surprised that he turned the tables on us and jumped off some forty-story building to rouse any suspicions of what he's been up to down in that city. He's known for that, and Xavier'd be darned if he ever came across -that- prediction. I've seen a brighter spark in that red eye of Remy's, especially when he picked me up after school a mere three weeks ago, and drove us down to the cannery for a slice of pizza. He ordered anchovies on the side of his to give to me, because he knows that's what I like best. Remy always said, "I have somethin' t' tell you," and I always expected another new glimpse of Rogue: last week it was her personality he wanted to know better, the week before was the wall barricading the two of them that he wanted to climb, and the week before that, was the discovery that she liked roses. But instead, he surprised me with, "I'm gonna go down to Nawlins f' a couple a weeks. Xavier wants me t' visit my folks." He winked as I sunk my teeth into my pizza, which now was made tasteless. Needless to say, I could've gone with another round of Rogue info.
"But you said you hated them," I recalled, taking up my fork and eating the anchovies by themselves. He shrugged.
"I guess I need it. Being up in high society makes y' haughty," and he laughed, heartily. I was relieved, for I hadn't heard such an honest laugh in a while, and said, "This isn't to get away from Jean, is it?" He laughed again and reassured me it was for a greater cause. "My spirits are at a low, petite; I musn't hurt myself," and he got this far-off look in his eye that told me he was going for something much more.
I sat up then, finishing my anchovies, and replied, "Then go. If you'll write everyday, I won't complain." He smiled, which made me smile, and we sat like stunning idiots, smiling at nothing for a long time.
"Den, I shall. Honest t' Diu, I shall," and we shook on his oath. He didn't break it, for when he left, he sent me heaps of stories and glorious triumphs and adventures, making me wonder if he'd ever have the heart to come back again. Included in all the envelopes he sent everyday, there was a decent note to Rogue, which I always gave to John, who always was there to hastily take away her mail for her. Rems never left a returning address, which distressed me, but I knew he would always know I read his lengthy letters and considered them heartily.
So if he should be dead, he's really missing out.
The last letter he wrote to me was the day before the newspaper came out. He said: With kindest pleasure, dearest Jubes, I am to take a train back to Bayville in the morning tomorrow. I'm lookin forward to seein you once more, along with everyone else." When news came that he had "died", I was disturbed, thinking Remy had gone too far this time, but managed to not care so heavily, with the knowledge that he could take care of himself.
I slept through most of the flight there; woke when Logan was just about landing the Jet. When we did descend, I forced myself to get up as Scott put us into groups: him, Jean, Kurt, Evan, Logan, and Piotr, Rogue, Kitty, and John. Xavier told me I was to stay with him, and meaning not to displease him, walked with him without complaint. Kurt blew a kiss, Jean waved timidly, and Rogue patted my shoulder as they separated, wandering through the bayous of 'Nawlins' as Remy'd like to say. Looking around, I tried to look pleasant and wondered who to blame for being cruel to me now.
***
"Please Rogue, you're running up too fast--we should stop once in awhile," John acknowledged, breathless and vexed. She turned to him with an indignant look in her eye.
"Ah thought we weren't gonna fidget and complain, Johnny. If ya were gonna complain, why didn't ya stay behind?" she spat, a leg paused over a rock. Something in John's eyes flickered malevolently; he paused from exhaustion.
"Yah only care fer dat damn Cajun! Finding him yur only concern?" he digressed angrily, finding his voice despite the lack of breath. A look of malice flushed her face generously. Kitty recognized this and came to her side, not wanting a brawl.
"Like, I think we should split for a while, ya know? Petey, take John thataway--" she pointed to the marshes, "Rogue and I will explore this other side." With that, she grabbed her roommate's arm and dragged her across the bayou. It wasn't until they were clear out of the others' way, when Kitty let go, with much tryanny from Rogue.
"What's your problem? Ah was fahne."
"Fine? Like, you were gonna kill your boyfriend. Like, that's not fine."
"Ah prefer it to some of your expressions. God, Ah need a cig." The moonlight suddenly passed through the clouds; the night seemed threatening. All at once, there were the sounds of giant footsteps, buzzing misquitoes and the evil groans of alligators. Kitty grabbed unto Rogue's arm, looking for some haven. But when she had a glimpse of Rogue, she found a stranger in her place; an unfriendly eye piercing her sight.
Kitty screamed.
Phasing through the man, she ran. Her mind halted and asked the confounded question: Where was Rogue? Surely they hadn't taken her...had they? She turned back, but when she did, the moon revealed its shine through the fog, and then there was no Rogue; no one else returned her desperate calls. Overcome with fear, she panicked, and hurried back, too terrified to scream.
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Special Thanks To: BOOM-BOOM, Meowzkat, gothgirl05, Goddess Evie, SadYear, Seraphim, TayTay, simple-charlotte126 for adding me to their favorite's lists! I'm quite flattered :)
Also, thanks to Carla for going to EMIA and signing the guestbook! Makes me proud that people actually go there anymore...
Up next: Piotr's POV, Henri LeBeau's Journal, and Rogue's. Is it