Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine.
A good ol' fashion piece of revenge.
You no longer thrill me
All you do now is stand in my way.
I held on too long,
I did everything wrong,
But I hope you'll be missing me,
Like I will miss you.
I wouldn't say I've moved on,
I wouldn't say I'm close to okay.
Or that you no longer fill me,
Or no longer stand in my way.
And I'm not too proud to admit to you now,
That I'm still nothing more than a wreck.
The Perishers
………………………………………..
The snow had fallen three days ago. As Remy LeBeau walked across it, the frozen top layer cracked beneath his boots.
If he wanted to, he could glide upon it, without making a sound. At this point, however, secrecy and surprise were not needed.
He hated the snow. He hated the fucking cold. His hands began to glow pink through his leather black gloves, but a light smirk played upon his features.
A near death experience is often said to be enlightening, and for Remy it was. The closer he got to the front door of the illustrious mansion, the more the memories flashed before his eyes.
He stomped the snow off his boots as he walked up the cement stairs. One finger reached out to press the tiny gray doorbell.
But he didn't have to press it. The door opened before he could.
Remy stared at the woman in front of him. She was still striking, despite the toddler attached to her hips.
"Remy."
It wasn't a question. But her eyes held no anger, resentment or fear. She stepped aside, gesturing him inside, feigning her surprise as she did.
Perhaps time had covered over the blunt of his past mistakes.
"Bonjour Jean." Remy whispered as he brushed past her, inside.
She shut the large wood door behind her using her telekinesis, and followed behind Remy, as he surveyed the front entrance.
"Nothin' changes round' here, huh Jean?"
"Actually, Remy, everything has changed."
Remy swallowed, and spun slowly around, his eyes moving to the small girl in Jean's arms. His eyes next roamed to the ring on Jean's finger.
"You married Scott."
"Remy," Jean began, but then paused, setting the child down on the floor. "I know this may sound strange, but, are you alright?"
Remy snorted.
"De X-Men left me to die in a frozen wasteland. I'll never be able to enjoy de winter season again." His voice was so quiet, too calm for a man obviously burdened by betrayal.
Jean's eyes roamed over Remy's attire. Layer upon layer. Despite the snow, it was nearly Spring.
She cleared her throat, and met his gaze.
"Why don't you stay Remy? Just for now. What happened in Antarctica affected us all."
He had designed a million comebacks for every X-Man's excuse. But he kept his mouth shut, and nodded. Jean gave a half smile, and grabbed the young girl's hand, leading the way upstairs.
"This is my daughter Remy. Her name is Rachel." Jean smiled at the girl. "Rachel, can you say hello to Remy?"
Remy looked at the girl and wondered if she was scared of his red eyes. But she simply smiled and waved, then buried her face against her mother's leg.
"What's it like Jean?"
She looked surprised, before answering. "What Remy? Being a mother?"
"Yeah."
He looked genuinely curious, and Jean felt a wave of nostalgia pass through the air.
"It's wonderful Remy. I just wish I could raise her somewhere else." She met his eyes, and Remy felt his first pains of love and comfort in three years. He smiled.
"We, uh, saved your room," Jean opened the door in front of her, walking into the cold room. "If I had known you were coming, I would have turned on the heater." She rushed over to the far wall, her fingers playing with a dial.
She walked back towards the door, where her daughter sat watching Remy with intense green eyes. "Well, everything should be as you left it Remy. I'll let you settle in, but why don't you join me in the kitchen later?"
Remy nodded, moving a little further into the room. "Thanks Jean."
"Come on Rachel, lets go have a snack," Jean motioned to the girl, who instantly smiled at the mention of food, jumping up, she ran out the door. Jean paused at the doorway, her hands resting against the frame.
"Remy, it is good to see you again. But, you should know that, there are people here who won't be happy that," she paused, searching for the right word.
"Won't be happy I'm here?" Remy gave a nervous smile.
Jean gave a forced expression, somewhere between a smile and a frown, before slipping out of sight.
The truth was, he was prepared for anything they had to say. The little girl, Rachel, was the first person to invoke such warm feelings in him, since he had made it back to civilization. And he knew why.
The X-Men had moved on. Everything had changed, like Jean had said. Remy had imagined so much.
An entire life.
He knew now that wasn't possible. The devil didn't lead a normal life.
And still, he wondered what she looked like now.
…………………………………………………..
Remy stood nearly pressed against the large space heater, as he gazed out the living room window. The snow had begun to melt overnight, as it had rained heavily.
A quick shudder ran through his body, a movement he hardly noticed anymore.
"Ya don't smell the same kid. Almost didn't recognize ya."
The voice was still gruff, but a gentle tone belied his position.
"I quit smokin' Logan." Remy turned around, smiling slightly. "And de harsh Arctic winds probably ripped away everythin' else."
Logan nodded, as if in understanding.
"It wasn't the team's decision to leave you there bub."
Remy swallowed, his smile becoming an upset mixture. His hands unconsciously reached out for the heater behind him.
"If you're back from de mission, does dat mean-
"She ain't here."
Remy nodded again, not really wanting to know where she was. Not yet.
"So," Remy began, quickly trying to change the subject. "Who do I need to be watching out for here?"
Logan crossed his arms, and moved towards the window.
"All the members with a clean past. The one's who ain't got a clue what it's like to be on the other side."
"Except Warren?"
There was a cool hint of warning from Remy's tone as he spoke. Logan turned his head sideways, eying the Cajun.
"Angel's always been selfish Gambit. Always linking his emotions to his actions. But, he ain't with our team anymore."
Remy nodded calmly, his eyes watching the rain slow down outside.
"He left after the trial actually."
"At least he had a choice."
"What are ya doing back here Gambit?"
Remy could sense the man's closeness, but he made no move to face him.
"I'm here to see Rogue."
…………………………………………..
Remy pulled his old guitar out from behind the clothes hanging in his closet. He stared at the strings, reaching down and strumming a few.
So much was gone. He slunk back to his bed, resting on the edge
And then he began to play, softly. His eyes wandered around the room, his lips partly open, as if to sing. But nothing came out.
He could feel his foot begin to tap, his fingers restlessly moving against the strings, his body seemingly in tune. But his mind was elsewhere, without feeling.
It was all just fucking numb.
Standing up, a burst of rage causing his mutant power to nearly brim, Remy flung the guitar hard against the wall, listening to the wood crack.
He had tried so many activities, so many he had once enjoyed. But nothing. Nothing was there.
"Surely the guitar did not deserve that my friend?"
Remy swallowed, his exasperated feelings hanging, stuck down his throat. Slowly, he turned his head to the side.
"Only as much as I did Ro'."
He could feel the otherwise calm woman bristle slightly, but she held her composure well.
"You play beautifully Remy. I had no idea."
Remy took a deep breath, and looked back towards the wall, his hands resting against his thighs.
"If only I could feel that with you Storm."
Storm took a few steps towards Remy soundlessly. She moved like he did.
She sat by his side, her warm hand reaching out for his cold one.
"You can Remy. And you will."
Remy felt a still peace fill his lungs. He began to breath easy. Relax.
"Every X-Man knows how to endure. We always-
Remy was off the bed instantly, without a moment for Storm to reach for his hand, to stop him.
"I ain't an X-Man Storm. Dat part of my life is over and done with."
He could see her confusion, a light dusting within her eyes.
"Then-then why are you here Remy? Do you not wish to stay?"
"I just came t'see her chere." His muscles began to tense again. He could feel the light spasms, so weak. Flooding through his nerves. He knew she could see it.
He was vulnerable.
"Rogue?"
He could see the caution leave her lips as she said the name.
"Remy," Storm paused, her jaw shaking slightly in consideration. "Rogue won't be back for awhile."
……………………………..
"Why?" Remy asked with trepidation.
"Well, she could be back today. We just have no way of knowing really," Storm continued. "She has adapted your lifestyle. She comes and goes as she pleases. She has become very reclusive."
"Then why do you keep her on as an X-Man?"
Storm smiled. "For the same reason we kept you Remy."
But Remy couldn't smile back. "You didn't keep me chere. You left me in de snow to die."
Ororo, who so valiantly held her emotions in, cracked at his words, letting her shoulders slump, and her mouth part.
She stood up, a motion that caused Remy to reflexively shuffle back. The hurt washed briefly over her eyes, but she straightened her composure, and kept her hands to her side.
"Remy, I can not speak for the team. But were I in Rogue's position," Storm paused, searching Remy's eyes, for any recollection of the man she once knew. "I would never have left you."
What he wanted to say was, "I believe you." But with his loss of feelings went his ability to trust.
Storm gave a small nod, and turned around, heading for the door.
"Why didn't y'come back for me den?"
It was practically a whisper. A whisper lined with a seething tone. But Storm was already gone.
No one to respond.
……………………………………………………
Remy wandered down the empty hallway, towards the kitchen. He could see a light spilling out into the hall, and he began to proceed on quieter steps.
He caught sight of her red hair first. A green coffee cup sat in front of her huddled figure, steam rising up to the ceiling.
"Are you de only telepath left here Jean?"
He thought she would have picked up his presence in the room, but instead she nearly fell from her stool, knocking the coffee cup over. The contents began to puddle and drip down the countertop.
"Shit!"
She glanced quickly at Remy before reaching for the towel hanging from the refrigerator. Remy walked to the sink, rinsing out a sponge, and returning to Jean's position.
"You still afraid of me Jean?"
Jean continued to wipe vigorously at the floor, but paused to brush the hair from her face, eyeing Remy as she did so.
"I was never afraid of you Remy."
Remy kept a stern gaze on her as he sponged up the bulk of the liquid.
"Even when I had dat implant in my brain?"
Jean's motions began to slow, as she rested her hands on her knees.
"Even then Remy."
Remy took the cloth from her hand, and finished cleaning up the mess, as Jean stood up.
"Dat's good chere. I'm actually a pretty nice guy."
Jean let out a loud sigh, seating herself back on the stool.
"I know that Remy."
Remy stood up and moved to the sink, washing out the rag and sponge, his back to Jean.
"You're giving a lot'o short answers Jean." He turned the faucet off, and swung slowly around to face her. "You ok?"
Jean gave a warm, but offhanded smile. "You would have been a good telepath Remy."
"That's fair Jean. You don't have t'say anything."
Jean opened her mouth, but was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen.
"Hey Jean, yer kid's callin' for ya."
She nodded, slipping from her seat. "Thanks Logan." She gave a tight smile in Remy's direction and left the room.
"You know," Logan began, moving towards the counter. Remy remained at his position by the sink, his elbows resting back. "I knew you were down in the tunnels that day. Maybe even before that day." His tone had turned to an interval meant only for Remy.
Remy's face remained placid, unchanging, but his arms lifted away from the counter, and crossed across his chest.
"Dat so?"
Logan pointed to his nose. "I could smell ya all over that sewer."
"Den why didn't you say anything to da team?"
"Because kid, I hoped ta death I was wrong."
Remy kept his eyes on Logan, nodding slowly, his mouth curving, unwillingly into a smirk.
"Sorry I disappointed you."
"One day this team's gonna expect an explanation bub."
Remy pushed himself away from the sinks edge, towards the island in the center of the kitchen.
"Speakin' o'de team. What's up wit' Jean?"
"You've been gone a long time Gumbo."
Remy leaned across the counter, eyes squarely focused on Logan.
"I know dat mon ami." He leaned back, giving a smile. "Dat's why I'm asking."
"Scott left her."
Remy wasn't really expecting that. He gave a confused laugh and crossed his arms again.
"She's still wearing her wedding ring."
Logan gave a loud sigh, moving away from the counter.
"She probably thinks he'll come back."
"Where'd he go?"
"To Emma Frost, in Massachusetts."
Remy smiled as he watched Logan leave the kitchen, obviously done with their conversation. Not even the most trusting could be trusted with love.
………………………………………….
The next morning Remy woke up in a sweat. Ripping the covers off, he leaned over to the bedside table, opening a small drawer. Inside were several orange bottles filled with pills. Quickly, he popped the lid off of one and swallowed two.
He climbed out of bed, rubbing his forehead. He could see frantic images in front of his eyes, always confusing him with their insanity. Slowly, with the help of the pills, they calmed down.
It was 4:30 in the morning.
Remy slipped a pair of jeans on. He didn't feel like searching for a shirt, even though he could feel the goosebumps swell. His skin was always battling the cold, even in the blistering sun.
He walked silently downstairs, the ticking of a grandfather clock the only noise. He missed this sort of solitude. But he would not allow it to become comfortable again.
The moonlight shone through the kitchen window. As he reached the archway, he could see the silhouette resting against the counter. Her head was down, watching the liquid of her drink swirl in her glass.
The lighting perfected her features, illuminating her flawless skin. Her long layered hair was let down, cascading over her dark green body suit.
The only thing Remy could do was watch.
She pushed herself away from the counter and sat down on one of the barstools, resting her elbows down, letting her fingers fall through her hair, eyes still downcast. He wanted to see her eyes again.
With her back towards him, he inched closer.
She lifted her head up, and Remy paused, slightly startled. But she hadn't seen him. Unsteadily, she rose the glass to her mouth, sipping at the clear liquid as if it were water. He could hear the ice clinking in the glass.
His eyes wandered to the edge of the counter, where a bottle of gin sat, condensation dripping down the side.
And then there was a sick pull in Remy's stomach, one that enjoyed seeing her turmoil. He moved closer.
He was so close now, but she still did not sense him.
He wanted to hear her excuses for leaving him to die. He had been a different man when he had loved her. She could have told him anything, and he would never have left her to die.
Rogue set her empty glass down on the counter, her long nails tapping the glass.
Remy reached for the bottle, as he watched her eyes rise. The emeralds he had been waiting to see.
Her mouth parted open slowly, her eyes darting straight for his familiar red and black eyes. He could see her grip the glass tighter, cautious so as to not break it.
Slowly, he twisted the cap off the bottle of gin. Closing in, Remy leaned over and filled her glass.
Her reaction was slow, her eyes glancing briefly down at her glass, as Remy moved to get a glass of his own.
He filled his cup with ice, and took a seat across from Rogue. She was still beautiful, stunning really, but the worn features were visible regardless.
He smiled as he took a drink from his own glass.
She was breathing heavy. Heavier after he smiled.
"Remy? What-Ah haven't-
She stammered out those words as he set his glass back down.
"Haven't what chere?"
He watched her eyes close briefly as he said chere.
"Ah thought ya were dead."
"Wasn't dat de point?"
Her shoulders fell, as did her eyes. "Ah never meant for that ta happen Remy. Your voice was in my head too."
Remy nodded, his eyes glancing to the side in disbelief. He took another gulp of his drink.
"So, it's my fault den Rogue? I wanted t'die?'
She looked back up, her eyes slightly red, as if she were holding back tears.
"Ah went back for ya Remy. Even though the entire team was against ya."
"De team wouldn't of left me t'die Rogue."
She swallowed tightly, and took another drink.
"Something's obviously bothering you chere."
"Ah'm fine Remy." She was chipping away at something non existent on the counter. She glanced back in his direction. "Why'd you come back here?"
"Ta rejoin de X-Men."
Her glass did break then, her strength shattering it.
The gin poured out over her hand and the counter, one of the glass shards cutting into her thumb. Her blood tainted the liquor, offsetting the color. Slowly, she drug her hand away from the mess, and fingered the cut.
Remy slipped off his stool, grabbing a towel from a kitchen drawer, and a sponge from the sink, watering them both down, for the second time that day.
He walked around the counter, to Rogue's side. They watched each other cautiously.
"You aren't wearing gloves."
Rogue hesitated, her eyes watching the blood leak from the cut.
"Ah, uh, Ah learned ta control my powers."
He didn't question her honesty. Even if she had been tricking him, he would have taken the risk, as he reached out for her bare skin.
He ran the wet cloth over her cut, his hand gentle against her own. She was quivering beneath his skin. He had only felt her skin like this one time.
"Why're ya helping me Remy? Ah could do it myself."
Remy nodded as he continued to clean her wound.
"One o'dese days chere, dat fear you have o'truly caring for another person will disappear." He ripped a piece of the cloth and wrapped it around her thumb. "I hope."
Remy moved away, scooping up the glass with the sponge.
"Ah cared about you Remy."
Remy gave a cold laugh, turning back around to face her.
"I don't believe you."
Rogue stood up, the anger of her movements knocking the stool to the ground.
"Don't forget what you did Remy," Rogue seethed. "If there's anyone not worth trusting in this situation, it's you."
Rogue stormed out of the kitchen, as Remy swept the glass into the palm of his hand.
He walked to the trash, emptying his hand. He reached for his own glass, still intact, and finished his drink in one slow gulp.
She always had a way with words.