A few things: 1. While I don't think I'll ever name Remy & Rogue's tropical island in the context of this story, I do keep my time in the Dominican Republic in mind while I'm writing. But any places mentioned are purely fictional. 2. I'm aware that, in comics-continuity, Jacques and Rochelle LeBeau are most likely deceased, and I don't care a teensy tiny bit. 3. Like almost everyone who pops up in my stories, Nita Prentiss is not anyone I made up myself. But looking for information on her will spoil the surprise.
* * *
Ah remembered Genosha, but it was like that moment in a bad dream where ya wake up a little an' know that you were only sleepin' in th' first place. It was that same light. Unmistakable light, like somethin' from a Vermeer. Cool, bright an' almost sharp. Reachin' like fingers ta touch in dark corners. Th' pitted road for our pitted taxi an' a blur of green haze jungle, broken here an' there by colored flutters -- small houses that speckled th' roadside.
From th' passenger's seat, Remy fumbled back awkwardly an' touched my knee. Ah patted his forearm ta let him know Ah was okay.
In town, th' road faded ta dirt. Th' taxi slowed. Seemed like there were people everywhere, spread out on porches in th' shade. Ah rolled down th' window an' breathed in th' mixed scent o' earth an' ocean an' overripe decay. Somewhere Ah couldn't see, a rooster crowed. Weird an' strangled.
John gave a low whistle. "Not bad."
Kitty rolled down her own window, stuck her hand out, spread her fingers ta let 'em wave in th' passin' breeze. She closed her eyes.
Remy turned ta the driver an' said somethin' in Spanish. Sometimes Ah felt ashamed that he should know how ta do so many things. Other times it was nothin' but pure admiration, even if it must've been hard ta feel like your dad didn't see ya as anythin' but an employee. Ah knew that th' whole thing was more complicated than that, but Ah wondered how long it'd taken Remy ta figure that out.
We turned onto a narrow road, overgrown, barely seemed like more than a ribbon twistin' back through th' trees. Close vegetation whipped in th' windows an' Ah rolled mine back up, catchin' part o' a big leaf at th' top. Ah slipped it out an' toyed with it. Hardly seemed real. Thick an' tough, almost like plastic. The ragged bottom edge was rough an' caught against my fingers.
"What's this?" Ah asked John.
He took th' leaf, hand fumblin' over mine. Squinted this way an' that for so long that I knew he was hammin' it up, but Ah let him because there was a part o' John lately that seemed...hollow. He'd lost somethin' without any o' us noticin', but Ah figured he'd talk about it when he was good an' ready. No use pushin' if he didn't want ta be pushed. Nothin' would come o' that but fights.
John laughed, but it was more of a snort than anythin'. He ruffled my hair. "Silly girl. Banana."
"Ah thought they were tall!" Ah laughed back. Not because Ah didn't know. Ororo'd had a few banana trees in her greenhouse. Th' old John seemed ta be peepin' out at me again an' the coldish stranger was gone for th' moment.
John seemed ta relax back into th' seat. "They don't start out that way, love." He ruffled my hair again. Funny now ta think 'bout it, but right then, two things happened: th' taxi stopped in front o' our hotel an' Ah could feel it. Somethin' from John. Felt like th' air got heavy. Syrup-thick. Oh god, what... Because it was never th' same as with Remy. Could never be because Ah didn't...but what if he did? How was it that things could get snarled up so quickly?
Someone say somethin'.
"Remy, this place is, like, completely amazing," Kitty breathed, and there were almost no words Ah would've been happier ta hear.
Th' place was beautiful. Sprawlin' like it'd just stretched out ta take a nap one day an' never bothered ta get back up. Full o' that slightly-faded charm that makes people comfortable. Makes 'em want ta stay an' stay. Cottages spread out from either side o' a main house. Palm roofs an' weathered wooden siding. A stray breeze stirred up, shakin' th' dried leaves so they rattled softly.
"How did ya even know 'bout it?" Ah added, relief pitchin' my voice higher than usual. Remy turned around backwards an' stared at me. "Ah barely believe it's real even though Ah was sittin' here th' whole time."
Remy pressed his lips together briefly an' Ah silently willed him not ta ask any questions. Ah could tell him later. Tell him what? What's there ta tell? Ah didn't want ta go runnin' off into wild speculation over a feelin'. Back when Ah would've given nearly anythin' ta be more than a tiny blip on Scott's radar, Ah would've gone pretty crazy over a feelin'. Not anymore.
"De Guild is everywhere. We retire too."
"So who..."
"Jacques and Rochelle decided dis might be a fine place t' spend de rest of dere lives."
"Wait. Who?" Kitty asked.
"My grandparents." Remy circled 'round ta th' trunk an' helped th' driver with our bags. "Dey moved down here and opened dis place. Beats senility." Remy grinned.
That shocked me for a second, 'cause as much as Remy could regret his family sometimes, Ah'd never heard him say anythin' so harsh. But even while Ah was thinkin' 'bout that, a hand landed heavily on my shoulder.
Th' voice that went along with the hand was just as forceful, pourin' past my ear, leavin' it ringin' a little. "Remy LeBeau, y' can bec mon chu (kiss my ass) and go home right now if y' prefer."
Remy waved his hand. "Non, t'ink I'll just settle down here if it's de same t' you."
"Dat worthless father of yours not teach y' any manners, neh?"
"Not'ing dat I couldn't forget quick."
Ah slid a glance at John an' Kitty, whose expressions were hoverin' somewhere between amused an' intimidated. Guess Ah had th' upper hand there since Ah'd already met Remy's father. Wasn't much ta be rattled by after that. Ah ducked out from under Jacques's hand while th' two of 'em were busy starin' each other down, darted behind Remy's back an' shoved him forward.
"Just say 'Hi' like normal people or we'll be standin' out here all day."
Ah surveyed th' pair. Th' rest o' Jacques was as large as his hand. A patch o' thick, white hair, deeply tanned skin an' a pair o' clever dark eyes. He laughed, revealin' two rows of even, white teeth. "And t' t'ink, here I was trying t' figure how Jean-Luc was telling de tall tales 'bout you, chére." He pulled Remy into th' most uncomfortable lookin' hug Ah'd ever seen. Remy's entire body seemed ta get swallowed up at once.
"Enough!" Ah heard him gasp, before Jacques set him down.
"Your grandmother's inside. Told de woman not t' fuss. But she got de idea in her head." Jacques rolled his eyes. He looked at me. "I like y', girl. Remind me of a young me."
Ah did my best ta tuck my smile into my hand. No one would ever accuse th' LeBeau men o' havin' self-esteem problems.
* * *
De house smelled like fish. Held my nose elaborately and looked at Jacques, who banged me lightly in de leg wit' de suitcase he carried as answer.
"Dat's de problem wit' kids today. No sense of de reality of t'ings."
"Better dan some who've got no sense at all."
"Rochelle!" Jacques bellowed. "He's here! Can we send him back yet?"
"You leave dat boy 'lone!" Put on de best wounded expression t' greet Rochelle. She emerged from de swinging door dat led back from de reception area t' de body of de house, wiping her hands while she came. She wore a white apron, flecked here and dere with large, silvery scales. Dat explains de smell. "Don't touch me, I'm disgusting," she warned.
"De boy's stupid, not blind," Jacques offered helpfully.
"Not deaf yet either," I added. "Just wait on dat one. More of your yelling might make me dat way."
Rochelle sighed melodramatically, den turned t' each of de others in turn. "You must be Rogue. Jean-Luc said de hair was unmistakable."
"Hi, Mrs. LeBeau." She switched her suitcase from one hand t' de other.
"Call me Rochelle. You'd t'ink I was old otherwise." Shifted again. "John an' Kitty. Bring your t'ings this way." Dey trailed after her, out toward de beach and de row of cottages. "Lucky t'ing it's the low season. This place fills up quick. There's one other guest..." After dat, I couldn't hear anymore.
"Good t' see you, Remy," Jacques said once de others were gone. "Been too long."
"Mais (well), y' don't exactly live 'round de block."
He chuckled. "Small price t' pay for paradise. Nice t' see y've settled a bit."
Flipped idly t'rough de guest register while he spoke. De large shutters dat covered de floor t' ceiling windows were closed, making de room cool and dim. Could hear de swish o' de surf beyond. "Who says I've settled?" Tried my best t' hide de spark of annoyance under de question. Mebbe it was part fear. Who could I be if I wasn't de same feu follet (a spirit, always moving)? Didn't want t' lose myself. At de same time, dere wasn't anyt'ing I felt was so different from before.
"Mattie, for one. Your father. Dey wish y'd call more often."
"Dis turning into a long-distance parental guilt-trip?"
Jacques held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Non. An observation. But I can tell 'bout y' myself. Don't fool y'self t' t'ink dat freedom always means crazy, unsatisfied motion."
"See where Jean-Luc got his rhetorical style."
"De same place y' got dat smart-ass mouth of yours." Jacques grinned menacingly. "Don't aggravate me. You're not too old for a good punishment."
Closed de register. "But dat would mean y'd have t' catch me." In dat moment, I was struck by regret dat I hadn't come t' visit sooner. Thanks t' de Elixir, Jacques and Rochelle continued spry and healthy even though dey weren't taking it anymore. Dere came a time in every t'ief's life when he retired. Slowed down so dat time would catch up wit' him. Jacques had been born in 1865. De t'ings he'd seen since dat time were enough t' make me dizzy just t'inking 'bout it. Jean-Luc had explained it once, dat a good t'ief was made better t' know dat he only had a certain time t' make his mark. De knowledge dat t'ings would come t' an end only sharpened de urgency of life. T'ings I understood in theory, at de same time wanting t' find some way t' hold on to moments and people, dig my fingers in so dat everyt'ing stopped. Looked at Jacques, noticing, even in de dimness, de webs of wrinkles dat crept across his face, deep channels cut in his forehead. My breath caught. "We're all happy t' be here," I said, feeling dat de words were thin and chalky.
He squeezed my shoulder. "Why don't y' join de others? I'm sure dey're waiting. I'll let y' know when lunch is ready."
"Y' catch dat fish yourself?" Was some relief t' lighten de tone.
Jacques laughed. Dat deep, rumbling sound. Memory never compared t' de reality of it. No matter how I tried t' remember dat my grandfather's rich laugh sounded like tiny earthquakes crumbled on top of each other, not'ing compared t' de flesh and blood experience. "Y' know I never could fish for de life of me! Rochelle was out early dis morning."
Dat was true 'nough. Rochelle had a way wit' de ocean. A way of casting her line wit' deceptive grace, reeling in de fish with steely strength. "Who's N. Prentiss?" I asked. T' anyone else, de question would've seemed t' come from nowhere, but not t' Jacques.
"See dat y' haven't lost de t'ief's instincts."
"Still a t'ief."
N. Prentiss, cabin 6, was de only other guest. I'd seen de name in de register, printed in neat, slightly curled writing. Checked in four days previous.
Jacques shrugged. "No one dat I could find." De comfortably worn down nature of de place didn't do anyt'ing t' suggest de sophisticated computer system my grandparents had installed in de back. T'ieves are in de business of knowledge. T'ieves are also in de business of making enemies dat last a lifetime or more. "Full name's Nita Prentiss. Environmental science major at Empire State University. Says she's down here t' research her dissertation. Got no reason t' disbelieve her."
Right den, Rochelle came back into de room. "Remy! You're neglecting your friends." She made a shooing motion wit' her hands dat I knew better dan t' argue with. She fixed her attention on Jacques. "And don't t'ink that your poor fishing skills get y' out of helping wit' lunch."
"I never would!" Jacques protested.
"You would and have. I'm not senile yet dat I can't remember."
Didn't bother t' hide my smile at de helpless expression on Jacques's face when Rochelle hauled him back toward de kitchen.
* * *
just me: Thanks! I was a little paranoid about the Kyro, because I don't want to get in the way of Lancitty. But writing Lance into these stories might be slightly difficult at this point.
Seven Sunningdale: What a bizarre confluence of literature, because I'm about 1/3 of the way through my first Banana Yashimoto book right now (Asleep). Just...interesting. I also like Jane Mendelsohn's "I was Amelia Earhart" and Julia Blackburn's "The Leaper's Companions" for the beautiful, poetic imagery. I can only hope to write half as well as these people! Someday... The thing about writing sex scenes is that, the more explicit, tab A, slot B stuff has been done a lot and I'm not nearly creative enough to think up a new way to write it to make it fresh. A more figurative approach gives me more freedom that way. And I totally agree about the love/hate thing. I've only ever seen that work out in the movies or in books. I guess I'm just more boring and pratical when it comes to relationships.
ishandahalf: Yes. Warm vacation. Even though it's 18 degrees here. Below zero would be, like, a federal emergency or something. I'm hoping to take a warm vacation this year, but we'll see. I definitely want to work in John's problems, which is the first time in a long time that I'm kicking myself over the first person POV since it's damn hard to go in-depth into other characters this way. I promise to try though.
Jean1: Maybe it's because I (finally) saw X2? Rogue (read this as: Jubilee) is so angsty there. And I want to give the poor girl a break. Because no one should be sad all the time, especially when their life is running so smoothly. I love my sane Pyro, I do. Now let's see if we can shake him up just a bit.
Caliente: I'm just glad there are people hanging around who still want to read this stuff. Plus, I'm not sure how deep you can look into anything I've written. ;)
Flyby Stardancer: Well, ya ain't seen nothin' yet. Because I'm excited about this one. Truly. Loads of ideas. Bushels.
ChaosCat: Who doesn't like a good vacation though? Man, if someone gave me a vacation RIGHT NOW [eyes the cosmos] ... Ah, well. But, yes, drama. Certainly.
Ruby-servantof-eli: I'm planning a good long arc for this one. Hopefully your confusion will abate somewhere in there. But in the meantime, here's that chapter you asked for.
Misa1124: I feel like this is one big reunion! So great! I'll try not to disappoint.
Sabby13: Y'know, I'll take "pretty" and happily. I always worry when I write in a more poetic way that I'll just tilt right on over into Purple Prose Land. And things usually do work out, if not in the way that I plan. Oh, yeah, I'm in total control...