Title: The Wreckage
Disclaimer: I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.
Pairing: Rogue and Remy
Rating: Teen/Mature
Warnings: Contains dark and adult themes
Summary: It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.
The Wreckage
Chapter Three
None of That Sadness on a Friday Night!
"Oh come on, Rogue, we're leaving!" followed Kitty's banging on her bedroom door.
"Gimme a minute!" she hollered back, combing through her straightened hair one last time. She was tired again, in a perpetual haze called reality. Wake up, school, nothing, sleep, repeat; add a training session every so often and a lot of headaches, forgetfulness, confusion, and nightmares to fill in the cracks of her sanity. Sprinkle with extra homework to make up for the last ten times you couldn't go to school and you had yourself the special recipe for a Friday.
She took one last look in the mirror. Pale with sleep rings was on the menu today. Her makeup probably wasn't flattering at this point, but did it really matter? There was no point in impressing anyone.
"Rogue!" She heard Kitty holler from downstairs.
Rogue grabbed her bag as she slammed the door shut. "I'm coming!" She hollered back, storming down the stairs, glaring at the kids who were in her way. They all backed away, fearful for their appendages.
She entered the kitchen, where she was certain Kitty was waiting for her.
And she was. With a glass of orange juice in hand.
"Drink," she gave a stern pointed 'I'm, like, not joking around' look.
Rogue rolled her eyes as she grabbed the juice and downed it, slamming it down on the counter.
"We good now?"
Kitty smiled sweetly as she pulled out a muffin and banana from behind her back. "Nope, but you can eat these in the car. Let's go!"
She smacked the food in Rogues hand as she pulled her towards the garage, phasing through everything in her path.
They entered the garage, the kids already in the X-Van. Kitty hopped into the driver's seat and Rogue into her standard, hard won shotgun throne. Kitty started up the van and shot Rogue an expecting look as she pulled out hazardously. Rogue rolled her eyes and took a bite of the muffin. In these situations, it was better to just go with it than suffer the guilt trip later.
She stuffed the banana in her bag as she left the car. The muffin would appease Kitty for the time being- or at least it'd have to.
She looked at her high school and sighed. Another day of mindlessness and zoning out and stupidity. One step closer to graduation… and then what? What was there to look forward to anymore?
And as she walked away, "Rogue, I'll, like, see you at lunch, 'kay?" Rogue turned to refuse, but Kitty was already gone.
'That sneaky… she got me again…'
How she was convinced to go out with a swarm of teenagers, she'll never know. Kitty preyed on her weaknesses now, she was sure of it. Kitty must have waited until the opportune time in Rogue's REM cycle during lunch to ask her that question. Rogue hadn't heard the question to begin with, but she heard her name for sure, and woken up startled, confused, and "Mmhmm, yeah, sure…" was the first thing out of her mouth. Followed was "Wait… what?"
And Kitty the ringleader was positively gleeful. The only way Rogue could get out of a promise with Kitty was the Mutant Apocalypse- and that was already said and done. At this point, it was better to silently endure the chatter and horseplay and… couple-age.
Rogue made a face. She knew Kitty didn't plan for this to be a super-date night- the older X-Men were all friends… and all conveniently paired up with someone (with the exception of Rogue) … Jean and Scott; Kurt and Amanda; Kitty and… Piotr? And Rogue. The… seventh wheel. Again.
Granted, no one had really done the whole couple charade yet. Scott and Jean were just too cautious and awkwardly/obviously in love. Kurt and Amanda… well, they were too goofy to be serious, but the sentiment was still there. And Kitty and Piotr… who knew if they were really together yet, or she had just asked him for the sake of getting him out of the mansion and into her prospective "boyfriend list." Rogue couldn't keep up with the Lance-Kitty-Piotr triangle and if she asked, she'd end up just being more lost.
Rogue fiddled with her glove as they waited outside, waiting for Kitty to return with the tickets. It was cold and she felt out of place with the chatter and laughter surrounding her. She pulled her black wool coat around her tighter and shuffled her feet. What she would give to be alone in her room right now.
Kitty pranced over, grinning as she handed out the tickets.
"What are we even seeing?" Kitty handed Rogue a ticket stub with a sneaky grin. Rogue looked down. "Life as we know it?" She turned around to look at the movie posters. "Is this… a chick flick?"
"Yep!" Kitty exclaimed happily. "None of that sad stuff on a Friday night!"
Rogue internally groaned. Her first mistake was falling asleep. Her second mistake was not fighting for the movie of the night. 'Think, Rogue, think!'
"Oh come on! It's Katherine Heigl- she's amazing and you know it. Now come on," She pulled Rogue towards the theater entrance.
And as she was being pulled, her eyes veered towards the left, down the sidewalk, to the bar with people spilling out of its entrance- to the tall man in the long trench coat and shaggy brown hair, leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Her jaw started clenching as his eyes lifted, almost meeting hers as Kitty pulled her into the theater and away from his smoldering smirk.
Oh… Oh god why…
Her heart flared and her body flushed and if it wasn't for attracting attention to herself, she would have yanked her arm out of Kitty's death grip and storm over to see if it was really him. She would scream "fuck your popcorn" and run out recklessly to that bar like a madwoman and see for herself if it was him.
But she forced herself to stay firmly rooted in the snacks line, muscles slightly quivering with irritated anticipation. Mind over body, she chanted. There was no reason to confirm. There was no reason to look stupid- if anything there was a reason to be apprehensive and suspicious and stay with her group of friends. Which is why she was not leaving alone. Safety in numbers with other trained mutants- yes, this was the better choice.
It didn't mean she had to like it. She just wanted a quick glance. Curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz. And if she slipped out right now, "needing to use the lil girls room," no one would be the wiser, she could miss the previews, and then she would be appeased.
But they squished her in. God, they knew. Kitty pushed her in the aisle to make sure she didn't escape. What a bitch.
The theater darkened and the popcorn floated over towards her. She jumped.
"Jeez, Rogue," Kurt yanked the popcorn back before she could knock it over. "The movie hasn't even started yet. No need to be scared."
"The thought of it alone is enough to give me nightmares," she retorted dryly, grabbing the popcorn back, popping a kernel in her mouth, and passing it along the line.
And from then on she had tried her hardest to not jump when anyone tried to grab her attention and look interested in the movie so that no one would call for her attention. But really, how could she not be paranoid and preoccupied? Especially if all the training Logan made her go through since her Louisiana adventure had been in preparation for a possible repeat.
"Over protective much?" she snorted when he told her about the change in her training.
"Better safe than sorry," he grunted when she protested.
And how she was biting her tongue now, mentally going through everything Logan had taught her: all the possible angles she could be attacked, all the possible weapons she could use without using her skin, and lastly, how good it would feel to use everything she knew.
And before she knew it, the lights were back on and Kitty was gushing in her ear "Like, oh my gosh wasn't that great or what!"
"I'd go with 'or what'…" she muttered, scanning the now lit theater. It looked clear.
And as everyone got up to leave, she began to brace herself. There were very few things that could happen after she left the theater.
And as they entered the lobby, she felt her vision get sharper and her muscles taut. She was with the X-Men, she'd be okay regardless- no need to do this alone…
Her breath caught in her throat as she crossed the doors into the cold winter. Oh god…
He wasn't there.
She let out the breath she was holding. He wasn't to be found near the bar entrance anymore or in any public area nearby. This… was a good thing.
And she snorted at herself as she walked with the group to the car. Why would he be out here still? It's cold and that was a 2 hour movie and he was at a bar in which sluts would be asking to go home with him. If he had wanted to make a move, he'd have either done it already, teammates be damned, or he'd wait until she was alone again. Yeah, this made more sense.
Or… maybe nothing was going to happen in any case. Maybe it was him and he intended no harm. Or maybe it wasn't him at all. Maybe she had spent the last 2 hours being restless for no reason. Or maybe her powers were doing some weird astral plane projection and she was going crazy.
She trailed behind her teammates feeling utterly disappointed and relieved. What did she really expect? That she'd be able to recover some of her pride and dignity if he even attempted a sneak attack? Or (least likely) that he'd come up and just apologize to her?
She shoved her hands in her coat pockets, trailing her teammates as they headed into the parking garage's stairs. She took the first step, then the second, then the third… and stopped.
Was…was that a spicy cigarette she smelt?
She felt her body stiffen instinctively, fists clenched and knees slightly bent. She felt it now- the feelings of eyes on her. She turned around and looked down into the first layer of the parking garage- nothing. She walked more slowly up the remaining flight of stairs. Nothing on the second floor. And the smell was fading.
And by chance her head twisted to the side, catching the sound of silent footsteps in puddles of rain in the alley adjacent to the stairs. She could see the smoke drifting up and disappearing. She closed in on the rail and glanced over.
Careless, infuriating, lean, arrogant. Everything about him screamed it. He wagged his eyebrows with his cigarette dangling from his curling lips.
Well, she had wanted answers.
He held her dispassionate, unyielding gaze. She just couldn't tell what his intentions really were… and she wasn't about to unveil hers.
"Hurry up, Rogue! It's freezing!" Kitty's voice echoed through the stairwell.
She glared apathetically at for just a moment longer before slightly scoffing and she continuing up the stairwell. He'd gotten to her then and now. But she'd get her chance…
And as the bike roared to life, she swore she heard a whistled rendition of Dixie follow her into the car.
"Jeez, get distracted much?" Kurt teased.
"Just a bit," she muttered sullenly, sinking into her seat. What a way to start a weekend.
She jolted awake, heart racing, and eyes darting around the room. She groped the covers twisted around her sweaty body.
Her room.
She was in her room, her room in the Mansion. It was late (late enough to be early), according to the obnoxious new alarm clock Kitty made her get last week.
She was in her room, in her body, stuck with the same mutation she had for the last few years.
She wasn't childishly running around the playground with her school friends, winding around the teacups, laughing and smiling. She wasn't roughhousing with the boys down the park hill and getting her knees dirty and hands scraped up. She wasn't at the pool, splashing her friends and racing them down to the big girl diving board. She wasn't being called home to dinner by Irene and Mama, who had just come home from her month-long business trip and brought her candy and presents and a hug and smile just for her. She wasn't happy and carefree.
No, she was in her room at the mansion, staring at the mounds of dark, concealing clothes littering her floor; the same dark, concealing clothes that had been her unnecessary fate for probably years before her mutation actually started. Since the day Irene had set her down and told her the doctor called about her blood results and he had some sad news. Sad news that involved new clothes that made her feel sticky all the time, less time being outside, and worst of all- lonely. Again.
And as she slumps against the side of her bed, she remembers the most annoying part of these memories, whenever they came back to haunt her. It wasn't the reopening of past wounds- knowing that her foster mother and aunt had lied to her for so many years, and molded her into the sullen, thoroughly depressed girl she was today.
No, the most devastating part of reliving her own memories was remembering how happy she was as a child. It was like a string dangling in front of a cat's face- a quick reminder of how she'd never be that happy again and how her mutation had dampened her life. And whenever she'd try to grab the string, she'd wake up, and remember, and plummet down into her dark reality…
She let her gaze fall numbly down to her bleeding arms. They looked so unfamiliar, the strawberry train tracks running up and down her snowy arms. She didn't recognize them; it was as if they were some other girl's arms- some other girl with some other life.
And it wasn't that she so devastated by her lot in life. She had moved on from the blind hope she once had. She was untouchable, through and through, and it wasn't changing. She would never touch, never fully love- and she had finally come to terms with her life. She'd be fully wrapped up, like a porcelain doll, forever- but she was okay with it.
She wiped some blood from dripping onto the carpet.
This had been her life for some time now, but it hadn't taken over until after Apocalypse. The guilt of sending a child into a coma for over a week… yes, Leech and his mother had forgiven her (who wouldn't, considering she had nearly single-handedly saved the world from Apocalypse, which was her fault to begin with), but the thrum of voices in the back of her mind were the constant reminder of how much she sucked. Literally.
She didn't know how she let herself get to this point. She couldn't hold back the waterfall of voices as well as she normally could, the associated memories as well. It became apparent in her sleep first. The nightmares were the first indicator that the wall she had built between herself and the psyches was crumbling.
At that point, she had upped the amount of sessions she had with the Professor. Every day it became more and more apparent that whatever they had been doing wasn't working anymore. Something had changed when Apocalypse had touched her.
And she remembered the feeling well: the ripping of imbedded psyches from her mind, the draining of her life and energy, the massacre of every foundation of her powers she had ever built. Really, he had raped her mind and destroyed the remnants with his touch. It was as if she had built a map in the sand and a tornado had gone through her mind and destroyed any evidence that she had been there. She was lost and didn't know what or how to do anything anymore.
So the professor had suggested they start again, like a brand new clean slate. Except nothing was working anymore. Everything in her head was tender and it hurt to do anything. The walls that she had built up weren't nearly as strong and everything was slipping through the cracks. Her sanity as well. It was like she'd build a shoddy shack to keep everything in, but by nightfall, the storms of her mind blew it down, with her crying wee-wee-wee, all the way home.
And she had decided to stop the sessions with the Professor. It wasn't doing any good and she just felt violated and only came out with a headache and mildly set up barriers that still let everything through its shoddy cracks by nightfall.
She had tried the exercises the Professor taught her, but they didn't help any more than they did with him. She still had the nightmares, she still had the voices muttering in the back of her head, she still had their personality emerge at the best possible times. She was still tired, untouchable, and thoroughly unhappy.
But how did it get like this? She stared at her mangled arms. When did she become so dependent on slashing her arms to clear her head and remember that she was her own person?
She remembered that first time bitterly. She was angry at life already, with her living situation especially. Living with idiots at the Brotherhood, being forced to accompany said idiots on idiotic missions, no edible food, nothing, not having even a goddamned lock on her door… needless to say she was going crazy. There was always an issue between the boys that always ended up in the house shaking, braking, or being bathed in Toad smell. There was never any hot water, privacy, electricity, etc…
So when she entered the freezing cold shower, in a house that was already shaking too early in the morning, she was pissed. Shaving in cold water sucked as it was, and when Lance let loose a jolting shake… well, it's easy to imagine what happened. It was forever ago, but the relief never faded every time she did it.
She imagined over the years she had gained suspicion by her friends and the general public. She was a sulking goth and had resembled the culture to a T. Maybe the rest of the world scathingly expected her to do it and just rolled their eyes. Maybe they didn't think she was capable of that. Maybe the world was just stupid. She wasn't stupid though. She knew what it would look like to everyone else and she was glad to keep it a secret. It was herself medication to the mess of her mind; no one else would understand and for the time being, she didn't give a fuck. Why should she? Nothing else was working as immediate as this.
And just like her mind was a clean slate every day, there were times in which her body would be too. That was the sick beauty of it- some days there would be no reminder of the war she fought with herself. The scars would come and vanish with Logan's healing ability. She had taken his powers on some occasion, before she realized the cost for healing after a battle was just too much mentally. So as of late, the scars had been building and she had been more cautious. She had stopped her sessions with the professor for this reason too- one look into her memories and she was sure she'd be 5150-ed before she realized what had happened.
And as she stared at her bloody arms, she supposed desolately that she should recognize them, or at least learn to. Who was she kidding? She was in a hopeless situation and this was the only "cure" for her. This was her life now. With everything that had happened since her mutation manifested, she had lost hope. The likelihood of her situation changing was slim and it only made her slice harder. What a life.
Her vision dotted as she walked across the room to find her bandages and a clean towel. It could be due to sleepiness (having woken up in the middle of the night), not eating as much (she just didn't have an appetite, okay?), or maybe those last few slashes weren't such a good idea…
Regardless, the dizziness was enough to put her back to a nice, dreamless, memory-less sleep…
This was the minced green onions on her life entrée. The sprig of parsley? It was Sunday night. What a fantastic way to end the endless weekend and start the endless week.
She rubbed her temples in annoyance. Wasn't this day over yet? The last few classes had dragged on, but this was just ridiculous. The clock seemed to go backwards every time she took a pleading glance. Her foot tapped impatiently. It wasn't as if she had anything to do today, like any day, but anywhere was better than school these days.
She glanced outside, seeing the X-Van just waiting right next to Lance's Jeep. She sighed. She was not in a particularly sociable mood.
Finally the bell rang and she tossed her bag over her shoulder. No rush, there wasn't a reason, only a lot of people around.
She met Kurt by her locker, all ready to leave.
"You ready?"
She couldn't stop her face from cringing as she stuffed her bag full of her lockers contents
"Actually… I think I'm going to walk home," she replied slowly. Yes, this sounded like a much better option.
"What? All alone? Why?"
She reached the bottom of her locker, finding her latest book of the week. She took it out, a small smile of inspiration on her face and nonchalantly flipped it towards Kurt.
"I think I'm going to go to that café again. You know, the one Wanda recommended."
Kurt made a face. "Coffee! Reading! Gross."
"Not all of us have boundless amounts of energy," Rogue retorted.
He made a face, morals conflicting. "Do you need a buddy? It's not safe to be alone…"
She snorted. "I'm probably the most dangerous thing out there."
Kurt still looked worried.
She gave him a small smile. "I'll be fine, Kurt."
"Fine then," he sighed, a sudden realization dawning on him. "I call shotgun!" he pumped his hands in the air.
"All yours," she muttered. "Mind breaking the news to Kitty?"
"Ja. Will we see you at dinner?"
"Kitty wouldn't have it any other way," she rolled her eyes.
"Don't be so down!" he clapped his hand on her back. "It's Kitty's turn for dinner, so it's take out night!" he called out as he bounced away. Rogue could almost imagine his tail wagging at the thought of take out.
She closed her locker and swung her bag over her should, walking the nearly deserted halls out into the middle of the city.
And as she got to the door of the café (nearby the movie theater they had been at last week), she rubbed the back of her neck self consciously. She felt a little tingly sensation caress her neck and shoot down her back. She turned around subtly as she walked through the door. Nobody was there.
She went up to the cashier and immediately noted his double take of her. The stripes, she sighed, gave it away every time. She saw his struggle to not step back, to not sound scared.
"Just give me a double shot," she deadpanned. She knew the drill, placing the money on the table instead of in his hands. She waited at a table, for his shaking hands to hurry up and make a drink.
"Order's up," she heard him call out meekly. She walked and grabbed the drink without giving him notice. He wouldn't be nearby; in fact, he'd probably be standing by the register and tip jar to make sure the "mutant scum" didn't get any ideas. She rolled her eyes and just sat down near the window.
Pulling at her book and flipping to her bookmark, she felt the feeling again. She rubbed her neck again. What the heck was it?
A few pages passed before it came back again. That "someone's watching you" feeling. She glanced out of her peripherals. Nothing felt inherently dangerous, her trained senses told her that, but with the anti-mutant sentiments, she couldn't be careful enough.
She had taken an initial survey of the patrons of the café when she walked in. She was only the second person who stayed after ordering. That would make at least 3 people present, not counting anyone in the back. She took notice of the cameras around the room- two in the immediate vicinity, probably more in the back.
She turned her peripheral attention to the outside. Only random pedestrians walked the sidewalks. She hadn't noticed anyone lingering or passing by twice. She turned her head, trying to look nonchalant and non suspicious as she gazed out the window. Nothing looked suspicious.
Grabbing her drink, she sighed. It could be her tiredness that was making her paranoid. It could be the general news, with its tales of anti-mutant protests and violence. She was somewhat well known in Bayville now. Her hair and style gave it away every time. She tried to focus on the book again, hardly being immersed in it as she had hoped.
But now she was distracted. The feeling was obnoxious. It was present and she couldn't deny it now. She set her book down and stared straight outside into the tinted windows of the building across the street.
Tinted windows, meaning she couldn't see in, but they could see out. She looked closer at the signs. The beer insignias, the flashing open sign, and the obvious "21 and over only" sign...
It was a bar. The same bar she had passed the other night. The same bar she had…
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with one hand. So much for a quiet afternoon away from humanity. When she opened her eyes, she rolled her eyes at the tinted windows, picked up her book and coffee and moved to the back of the café. She was pretty sure anything that could happen wouldn't be ideal for prying eyes (and the victim count would be considerably less if she moved). She sat and faced the tinted windows and opened her book again. She sipped her coffee as she read.
It wasn't long before she felt the eyes on her again and for longer. And after that, she heard the faint squeaking of the door open and cold air rush in. She smirked: he could stop a bell from ringing but not the door from squeaking. She refused to look up. She didn't want to give him the benefit.
She felt his presence silently loom closer and soon his scent followed too. Cigarettes, spice, and a hint of bourbon. Classy.
"I could have sworn there weren't any swamps in Bayville. Now what is that god awful smell then?" she mused mockingly in an accentuated, annoyed southern lit as she turned the page of her book. She could almost hear the smirk form on his face.
"And last I checked, Bayville is surrounded by a bay. What's a river rat like you doing so far from the Missizip still?"
Begrudgingly and only to herself, she would later admit it was refreshing to hear a fellow southerner speak, even if it was a Cajun.
"Tryin' to get away from the likes of you," she muttered as sipped her coffee, still focused on her book. He sat down in front of her, grinning.
"Aw, and here I thought we had a good time in the bayou," he feigned hurt.
"Killer time," she deadpanned.
He chuckled, leaning back in the chair nonchalantly.
She finally lifted her eyes to him.
And there he was, smirking at her with his Adonis face and devil eyes. His hair was shaggy and smooth around his face- he wasn't wearing his headpiece and his face held a 5 o'clock shadow. Her heart stuttered a bit. How annoying.
"Thought you'd have been fed to the gators by now." She flipped a page, giving him her best uninterested, unimpressed face.
"Jean-Luc would never allow such a waste of talent and looks," he answered smoothly.
She looked at him up and down, obviously appraising him. She clicked her tongue. "Not a waste if nothing's there." She returned to her book.
He let out a low chuckle. "And it's good to see you too."
"I'm sure," she muttered darkly. "I can only imagine many useful things a man with your worldly talents could be doing at a bar in the middle of the day," she rolled her eyes.
"Gotta make a living," he smirked as he sat down on the chair in front of her. Oh good. This should take a while. He stretched his hands behind his head and flexed back.
She looked back down at her book, attempted to read as he lounged back.
"Quaint place. Come often?" he looked around.
"Not anymore," she muttered.
A silent moment passed.
"What you got there?" he motioned to her book.
"A book."
He leaned over and grabbed her book from her hand. He flipped through it, letting loose a low whistle. "And a romance no less," he muttered. "Need a little romance in your life, chérie?"
She snorted. "Hardly. What I need is some time alone." She reached over and snatched her book back.
He cocked an eyebrow. "What you need is some time away."
She gave him an incredulous stare. "If you're tryin' the 'askin' nicely' tactic to get me to get you outta whatever you did down there, it ain't gonna work."
He held his hands up in defense. "Just an observation. No hidden agenda behind it this time." He held up his hand, two fingers bare. "You check if you don't trust me."
She could slap him. Barehanded almost. But he wasn't worth the resulting sleepless nights anymore.
"Wouldn't touch you even if I did," she retorted.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
She opened her book back up and flipped through to find the last page she was on. She had hoped he would magically realize she wasn't interested in his smoldering looks and just leave…
But he didn't take a hint.
Instead? He grabbed her cup and took a sip.
And slightly grimaced.
Nobody takes the Rogue's caffeination and insults it too. He was playing with her.
He smiled as her eyes shot up and glared at him. He knew he struck a chord somehow.
"What's your game, Gambit?" She hissed. She was going to finish this now, with or without violence.
He raised his hands up, nonaccusingly.
"No game, thief's honor." Both hands held the Boy Scout's motto.
"Bullshit. Why are you doin' here?"
"Didn't think it was a crime to come back." His cocky demeanor was unshakeable.
"No, but I bet some kind of crime was involved. Either you did something stupid or you're about to do something stupid."
"So suspicious all the time," he tsked. "All that stress ain't good for the heart, y'know."
"That's rich comin' from you," she snorted. "Cut the crap. What are you doin' back?"
He shrugged. "Getting' by," he reminisced with a smile.
She rolled her eyes; she was getting nowhere with this fool, but knew enough that he was up to no good. Whether that "no good" involved the X-Men or not, she was thoroughly done with being annoyed to no end. She'd be on guard regardless of his assurances.
She grabbed her near empty cup and chugged it, throwing it blindly to her left and making it neatly in a trashcan a few feet away. She grabbed her book and shoved it in her book bag.
"Just so you know, Rogue," he drawled suddenly, capturing her attention mid-shoving, "I mean you and your friends no harm. I'm just… passin' through," he fluttered his hand.
"To bigger and greater crimes, no doubt," she muttered, flinging her bag over her shoulder. "Dream big then." He chuckled.
"Need a ride?" he drawled lazily, whipping his bike key around as she turned to leave.
"And give you a chance to kidnap me again? I'm fine with walkin'," she retorted over her shoulder.
And as she walked out of the café door, "See you around, chérie."
Well, this was certainly something to reflect about on her walk home.
He walked back into the bar, straight through its dance floor, passed the pool tables, and into hallways, rapping quickly on the door in front of him. He heard a grunt in reply.
"Excuse me, mes amis," he tipped his head towards the head of the table as he sat.
"Gambit," one man recognized coldly.
"You always were distracted by a pretty face. A girl friend, perhaps?" the second one mused.
"Just another femme," he shrugged indifferently. "Looked lonely. And Gambit's always one to help those in need." His eyebrows wagged as the first shadow covered man scoffed.
"Yes, yes, Gambit. Your reputation precedes you even in another part of the country. However, we have business to attend to."
"Mais, of course. Gentlemen?" He opened his hands in front of him, waiting for them to make the first move. The gentlemen took a long sideways glance at each other. The first man pulled out a laptop, opened it up and started typing furiously. After a moment, he flipped it to face Gambit.
"Everything's has been entered. Now all we need is the chip and we can press enter," the second man eyed Gambit smoothly.
"Ah-ah-ah," Gambit tsked. "Need to make sure the account is correct." He smirked as he leaned in closer, carefully, and rechecked the account number, amount, and processing date.
"Perfect, mes amis," he smiled; this transaction was most welcomed to one of his offshore bank account.
"And the chip?" the second man inquired politely.
"Garcon, check your pocket," he looked pointedly at the man who hadn't received him politely in the first place.
His face reddened as he pulled out a 16 GB SD card enclosed in a plastic case. "How in the hell..." he stuttered.
"Ah, Gambit, you never fail to entertain," the second man chuckled. He waved pointedly at the laptop. "I hope you wouldn't mind if we checked it?"
"Go right ahead," he leaned back in his seat as they pulled the screen away from his prying eyes.
The first man fumbled with the casing and managed to get it in the SD slot. The laptop hummed slightly, the screen illuminating their happy faces. He quickly typed in the password (that wasn't hard to guess anyways).
"Wonderful," the second hummed.
The lackey closed the program and ejected the disk. He took a subtle look at his boss, he gave a brief nod.
"Care to do the honors, Gambit?" He smiled as his employee flipped the laptop screen towards him.
"My pleasure," he smiled just as well, reaching over and pressing enter on the keyboard. The loading bar flashed and a new page with a confirmation number appeared; the transaction was complete. "All yours."
The lackey began packing up the laptop just as quick, placing the SD card in a pouch inside the laptop bag.
"Will you be in the area long, Gambit?" the boss inquired speculatively.
He kept his face smiling, neutral, no lies, just half truths. "Not sure. Could be here tonight, in Paris tomorrow." He waved his hand flippantly, winking. "I go where the money takes me."
The boss nodded primly. "And if we were to have another… business offer in the future?"
"You know how to reach me," Gambit answered smoothly.
"Indeed." The lackey was just not charming, at all.
"Well, Gambit," the head honcho stood up, extending his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."
"Et toi, aussi," Gambit purred, meeting the handshake strongly. He quickly retracted, stepping away with a bow, and saluted as he closed the door.
He exited the bar through the back exit, letting the door shut silently. He perused the alley, making sure nobody was present, before Mario-jumping onto a fire escape and climbing up onto the roof. He sat on a vent and pulled out a cigarette from god knows where off his body.
He lit it with his fingertips, taking a deep drag, and sighing on the exhale. He pulled out the second SD card, the replica of what he had just given the two criminals not 5 minutes earlier.
While it was common practice to not delve deeper into the personal aspects of a job, this one took a personal jab at his moral side. This one had to do with mutants: registration, capturing, sentinels, cures. From the brief skim he took while downloading from the main pc, this was enough to make his blood charge in anger.
He knew the men he just met weren't the ones in charge of this acquisition. They were just the middlemen to the more dangerous being who needed this information about mutants. He also knew the person he skimmed this information from was also just a middleman.
His thief instincts told him he should not have copied the information twice. This was leading to a paper trail already- and there was no paper to begin with. He was getting emotionally involved with this heist- and this couldn't lead to anything good. This information was itchy in his hands- morally itchy, in any case.
And with a pinch of his fingers, he could get rid of the evidence, and forget about this whole thing…
He gripped the card harder…
And put it back into his many coat pockets.
He grinned. You never know when it could be useful…
Hello all. Another timely update! I'll have you know I was fighting to not write during this whole week, and I know I'll have to again for the next week. Hell week is upon me and finals start on Saturday for me. I'm exhausted and hallucinogenic and am eating emergency stores of holiday tamales. It's been a trial, this week has.
Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. They finally met up! I'm really trying to limit the amount of overly angsty parts, but some is necessary for Rogue's development. Also, I'm going to use some accentuations for their accent, generally to portray emotion, etc. I'm not going to go all super hardcore, because Word will just go crazy red. However, I have a question for you all. It's been a good 4 years since I took French, and thus my understanding of it has declined. When Remy calls Rogue darling/dear, is it more appropriate to use chérie, chére…? I've forgotten and am getting myself confused with online dictionaries and Google translate…
Anyways, please review. Any feedback is welcome. It will make the next few days of wishing for a fast-forward button more bearable and it'll give me a chance to exercise my smiling muscles.
Also, quick send out for those affected by the horrific Japan earthquake/tsunami. I'm watching the news and I know I can only barely fathom how helpless everyone is feeling there. My thoughts go out to you.
