"Wildwood Flower"
By: Angelic Temptress
X-Men
I'm just borrowing them.

/

Remy lied on the motel room bed, above the sheets with his feet dangling off the edge and his hands behind his head. He hadn't kicked off his boots yet because he was just that exhausted.

They'd been driving for hours, and it'd been a long time since they'd shared the same space for more than a few minutes, especially a small one. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy her company or their rapport – he relished in it – it was just that he felt out of practice.

They'd never stopped their communication after they broke up. It hadn't been an option for either of them, really. They needed one another, like partners of a dance. She'd call him. He'd answer. He needed help. She'd save him.

But this was more involved – not like a passing in the hallway, sending a text, or making a phone call.

Only air and a gear stick had sat between them.

The shower started, and he turned to look in the direction of the bathroom. Rogue had left the door ajar, allowing him to see just enough.

A bare hip here.

Clothing falling to the floor there.

It was a small taste of what he was missing, of what he missed.

Remy wasn't one to analyze, but he wasn't sure what leaving a door open meant. Did she want to taunt him? Or did she find him nonthreatening? Not attractive? Not aggressive?

"Non."

The steam quickly enveloped the tiny bathroom, and he heard her step beyond the plastic curtain and beneath the showerhead.

She started to sing a June Carter song.

A foot with painted toenails settled on the ledge where curtain didn't quite meet beige tile. Rogue lathered her shin and started to shave with the pink, disposable razor she bought at the front desk.

Unconsciously, Remy licked his lips and wondered whom she shaved for.

"I will dance, I will sing and my laugh shall be gay. I will charm every heart, in his crown I will sway."

She switched legs and repeated her task, her breathy voice keeping tune.

He closed his eyes and imagined this moment was everyday life, that this was how he woke each morning. He pretended Gambit was the final station on Rogue's route, not a stop along the way.

Remy pretended she still wanted him, just as she had before he'd made all those mistakes, before the little messiah had been born, before Xavier's kid had that breakdown, before Magneto could give her what he couldn'tâ€Ĥ

"Oh, I long to see him and regret the dark hour. He's gone and neglected his pale wildwood flower."

Whatever that was.

"Whatcha doin' there, sugah?" Rogue asked, startling him from his unexpected slumber. "Sleepin' your day away?"

"Non, petit. Just thinkin'."

"'Bout what?"

"Not important."

She pulled her wet, wavy hair from its towel and straightened her t-shirt. "Whatever you were thinkin' about, you seemed to like it."

"Oui. Jus' daydreams."

Rogue smiled and sat to pull on her cowboy boots. "Musta been some sweet daydreams. You were out like a light. I didn't think my talkin' drained ya that much."

"It didn't, chere."

"Well then, good. How about we grab some grub before Logan asks us if we made it to town?"

"Good plan. Lemme freshin' up." Remy forced himself off the bed and into the bathroom, resisting the urge to touch her. He nearly slammed the door behind him.

After wiping the condensation from the mirror, he stared into his reflection.

And decided he couldn't live like this anymore.

/End/