Note: Hi everyone! First of all, thanks so much to all of you who have reviewed these little pieces; it really is what keeps me going. I also wanted to say that this one won't be a humoristic one-shot, like the other one; it's not angsty either, it's just… something that popped in my crazy little head. I wanted this to be a multi-genre series of one shots.
Btw, this one goes backwards. Why? I don't know, I liked it better that way.
Disclaimer: Don't own them!
Title: Behind closed doors.
1: 45 am.
Remy closed the door cautiously, trying to make as least noise as possible. The soles of his shoes were soaked as well as his coat, so he took it off and hung it on a simple screw in the bare wall.
I'd have cleaned up a little if I knew y' were comin', he thought while making his way through some empty food containers and clothes spread on the floor, and leaving rain water steps as he walked by. Her black shoes were on the floor, her green bag on the chair and he noticed she'd folded several shirts of him and placed them on the nightstand.
Merci chere, he grinned, seeing her ivory arm hugging the pillow as carelessly as she was used to this bed and to his presence watching her sleep, even after all these months. It was good to see she still trusted him somehow, that the way they always felt so comfortable around each other hadn't disappeared in spite of the time and the distance.
But no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't just jump in the bed; maybe later on… yes, because he had this strong feeling that this wouldn't be just for tonight, as she had promised; he wouldn't let her go again, no matter what it took. This kind of things don't happen every day.
So he took a blanket out of the closet and was ready to set himself on the floor, when two almost luminous green pupils caught his attention.
"So, how was your date?" she said kind of teasingly, stretching a little underneath the sheets: "Ah guess not too good 'cause it's kinda early."
"I wasn't on a date, cherie; spent de last three hours goin' crazy t' come back an' see y' again."
"Come on Swamp Rat, was she blonde, red head… brunette?"
"Y' know I like brunettes better," he spread the blanket on the floor: "But non, none of dat… today."
"No?"
"Non. I was, let's say, workin'" he winked in a way she knew way too well, as well as his night thief's habits. But she said nothing right then; she just held on to the pillow a little tighter and watched him settle down.
"Why don't yah come up here, ah?" she finally said.
"Y' sure?"
"Yeah, but don't gimme that look. It's your bed, after all."
"An' yours too, if y' want."
"Aghh, shut up," she had to bite her lower lip not to laugh as he filled the empty side of the bed.
Some kind of tickle went from her stomach to the rest of her body, along with the nonsense certitude that this wasn't a coincidence. There was just so much left undone between them and now they had, right in front of them, the chance to save what they used to have.
But not tonight. Tonight wasn't time to talk about the past or the future, or what they've done while they were away, or how strong their feelings for each other still were; it wasn't time to get physical either, for some tacit, abstract reason they both understood.
There was nothing to reclaim and no hurt feelings. Tonight, it was just time to be close, to realize that, after all, maybe God hadn't forgotten about them.
So she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, lulled asleep by the rain and the beating of his heart.
(…)
10:20 pm (Earlier on, that night.)
Rogue saw the door being closed and then heard his steps fading away down the hallway, getting blurred along other distant night sounds. She remained there, standing in the middle of the room, just looking around and trying to identify him in the objects that surrounded her. This was his life now, this place, but he still talked and stared at her the same way he used to.
Because of some curiosity instinct, she went and looked out the window; a few cars and buildings, and rain starting to fall, but no signs of him down there in the street.
"Sneaky thief" she sighed, shutting the drapes back.
The floor could easily be taken for a dumpster, so she dedicated to pick up the junk, but once she found the trash can she discovered its content was pretty much pouring out of it.
Whatever, she shrugged, dropping the stuff back to the floor. Several shirts that seemed clean were resting there too.
Next came the bureau scanning: newspapers, a half full bottle and a half empty one, cigarettes, the sun eye glasses she always talked to him out of wear, and as expected, some decks of cards. It was funny to recognize that during all this time, every time she saw even a single spade or black heart symbol, something inside of her jumped. So she grabbed one of the decks and sat on the bed, trying not to wonder how many girls had been on it before. Once he'd taught her how to properly shuffle the cards, but no matter how many times she tried, she couldn't remember how to make it right. She'd have to ask him to explain it to her again.
She never understood why they split; it wasn't even like they decided it, it was more like they were dragged along opposite directions by different facts and forces, to suddenly stop by, look around and realize the other one wasn't anywhere near anymore.
Tonight, it'd been just the other way around: they'd just been brought back together.
So she put the cards back on the bureau and crawled into his bed. It smelled just like him.
(…)
10:15 pm.
He opened the door for her and she came in the shadowed room.
"Wow," she exhaled once he turned the lights on.
"Quoi?"
"It's just that, suddenly mah life don't look that bad."
"Thanks cherie, I'm glad y' still got yer sincerity, an' sharp sense of humour," he closed the door and started to show her around: "But see, dis place's got its pluses: a convenient, compact fridge filled with everything' y' might need; heatin', hein?" he pressed the button and the atmosphere started to get less cold: "TV, a cosy bed… way better dan spendin' de night out in de open."
"Yeah…" she smiled shyly and looked down, as he took the bag of her hands and placed it on a chair: "Thanks; it'll only be for tonight."
"Hey, who's sayin' y' can't stay longer? I'm not."
"Yeah, an' Ah appreciate it, but…"
"But what? Now what?" he interrupted her, one of his hands reaching her chin and raising her head to look into her eyes. She knew he knew she had no excuses this time: "Y'll still be here when I get back, oui?" She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued: "Please, chere… don't vanish again."
"Ah'm…" she hesitated a little before answering: "Ah won't. It's too cold outside for that."
"I'll be right back, 'kay?"
She only nodded, scared at the same time that he wouldn't come back.
(…)
8:35 pm.
He was the last one to get on the subway, the doors shutting right behind his back. It was getting late and he had a couple of jobs to accomplish that night. Things had gotten a little rough since he was expelled both from the Guild and the Acolytes, but to hell with all of them: he liked better to work alone anyway.
People got on and off the train several times until it arrived to the second last station in his way. That's when his heart, which he hadn't remembered he had for quite a while, almost stopped. Because it had to be her; even though he couldn't see her face and only a few white locks, he knew this was the moment he'd been unconsciously waiting for all this time.
He let pass by the station he was supposed to get off in.
(…)
8:50 pm.
The sliding doors of the subway opened, letting the small, buzzing crowd come in. Rogue spotted an empty place there, between a window and an old man that seemed to be sleeping, so she quickly took it and let her bag rest on her knees. Her head was covered with the hood of the sweatshirt, which made her feel safer. Sometimes it appeared to her that one or two faces among the many others turned to see her, maybe recognizing her from the news or some street fight, back then when she was an X-Man. But other times she also thought this was stupid; who would specifically notice her? She was just that: another face in the crowd.
It was always good to look out the window as the subway went by; there was just advertising or dark walls on the other side, or her face reflected in the glass, but it gave her the sensation she was actually going somewhere, not only in this trip but also in her life. That feeling kinda went away every time the subway slowed down arriving to her station.
So she walked over the still snoring man and all of a sudden, it was like everything around disappeared.
"Chere…"
She froze there, staring into his eyes for several long seconds, as people swarmed around and passed them by.
And as the doors closed and the car began to move again, she only managed to whisper:
"Hi…"
END.
Note: I think this is it with Bedtime Stories, at least for a while. Who knows, maybe some day I come up with a new one shot ;-) Thanks again for reading!
Quote: "Wow…", "…It's just that, suddenly my life doesn't look that bad." X-Men, the movie; Rogue to Logan when they go in his car.
