Disclaimer: I don't own a thing

Title: Born For Bad Luck

By: Peanutbutter

"Boys I'm most done travellin', Lord I'm at my journey's end

B'lieve I'm most done travellin', Lord at my journey's end

Well I been lookin' for me a good partner, bad luck is my best friend..."

(Born for Bad Luck song by Brownie McGhee)

Chapter 3: Spoonful

"Men lied about a little ---

Some of them cried about a little ---

Some of them died about a little spoon---

Everything fightin' about a spoonful

That spoon, that spoon, that ---"

(Spoonful song by Howlin' Wolf)

Note: I meant to get this out Monday, but I had a Internet issue, sorry. I will always have the new chapter out on Monday unless there is an Internet problem. Thanks for all the reviews:)

The music was sweet, a sweet bluesy twang that she hadn't heard in years. It filled her mind completely and took her to a place that she had left behind, place where she was a Daddy's little girl, a child, and a teenager. The memories were like dark chocolate, melting slowly on her tongue. She closed her mouth around it clamping onto the music and the memories, trying to keep them, because beyond them, she was sure, was something she didn't want to find. Despite her efforts they slipped away, the sweet slick of chocolate disappeared from her tongue and a wave of unpleasantness swallowed her. She didn't understand what she was seeing. The images were too fast, too many of them. The music changed too. Too fast, too loud. There was a scream building in the back of her mind. She wanted to open her mouth, she wanted to do anything to get away from it.

"Don' fight me."

Rogue woke immediately. It was dark, everything was dark, but her surroundings surprisingly light, like the moon was shinning across everything. Her skin was clammy and slick with sweat. She could feel it cooling on the back of her neck. A sick panic washed over her when she realized she was being held. She took a shallow breath and tried to decide whether to comply or not. He had told her not to move.

"Dis is somt'in I wasn' expectin'," He pulled her closer. His hand were splayed across her clothed back, away from her skin, but the touch still terrified her. It wasn't John.

She blinked, the hazy glow was broached by a bright pink shimmer. The bed sheet was glowing fuchsia. Was she still dreaming?

"Can you stand?"

Rogue shook her head, yes, though she wasn't really sure if she could. He set her on her feet gently, but quickly and moved toward the bed. Rogue stumbled her hand flying out and catching the wall. She didn't fall and thankfully she didn't feel sick anymore. She did feel strange, almost drunk, disoriented, and she wondered how much damage she'd received in the explosion.

The man touched John's glowing bed the light disappearing against his bare palm. The room darkened, but she could still see. The darkness only lasted for a moment before the wall her hand was resting on started to glow. What was going on?

"Merde!"

The man rushed toward her and Rogue pulled away from the wall yelping as she lost her balance. He grabbed her before she could fall. The room went dark again. He was holding her shoulders tightly. She could touch him, it would all be over in an instant, but she didn't want his memories, didn't want his essence swimming in her head. He had enough, too many, she didn't want to add another.

"Don' touch a t'ing girl, dis t'ing is comin' from your touch."

"What are ya talkin' about?" Rogue asked. She wanted the light, wanted to see the face of the man talking to her more clearly. His eyes looked strange, dark and bright in all the wrong places. She wanted to be home, and this to all be a dream. Heck, she wanted to John back. He may be a jerk, but he was familiar.

"My powers, dey manifest though touch dat why ya sheets glowed, de wall..." He trailed off. "If I hadn' been here dey would have exploded and taken you with them."

"What are ya talkin' about?" She asked again. It was the only question she could ask.

"Don' move, chere, I'm gonna turn on de lights."

He let go of her arms stepped away from her. The room was flooded with light in seconds her closed eyelids turning orange. She opened her eyes squinting. The light was really bright. Why was it so bright?

"Dat better, non?

Rogue turned toward the voice. It was the voice she'd heard before she'd passed out before.

"Vos yeux...noir et rouge..."

He was nearly a foot taller than her and staring at her like she was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. There was stubble on his cheeks and jaw, chestnut hair just brushing his ears and eyes, eyes of red on black. She'd never seen anything like him in her life, but she knew him. She knew he had a scar on his chest from a knife wound, that when he was fifteen his brother shot him with a BB gun. The BB was still in his side.

"Remy LeBeau..." she whispered.

He cocked his head to the side, staring at her like she was crazy. "We know each ot'er, girl?"

Rogue shook her head. She didn't know him, she didn't. The first memory was enough to make her stumble the second was worse and she lost count after that. His life rushed on her like a wave. She couldn't push it back. He consumed her, became her, and she felt everything he did.

"Dis is Remy, he comin' ta live with us."

Jean Luc shoved him forward and Remy tried to repress the glare he wanted to throw back at the older man. He didn't like being pushed around. He'd spent a long time making sure he wouldn't be. Besides Jean Luc had a son. What did he need him for?

"Henri dis your new frere."

The boy didn't look too happy with suddenly having a brother. He should turn and run, run back to the streets and things that were familiar. He didn't know he'd shut his eyes until Henri grabbed his hand shook it. He was grinning.

"Always wanted a brother..."

"Dat's Belladonna."

"Dat, one Belle femme." Remy grinned and winked at her when she turned his way. Her golden hair barely brushed her shoulders as she turned away from him laughing.

Remy didn't cry, he didn't cry, never had, but this time, this time was different. He could feel it working it's way to the surface, threatening to spill out. He'd used her. He hadn't meant to hurt her but he had. He didn't know what he was going to do.

"Genevieve, I'm sorry."

"I don't wanna fight ya Julian!"

"I can't control it. I don't know what to do."

"I can help you. For a small price.

The smile sent a chill down Remy's spine, but it was freedom. It was a solution to something he didn't think he could get past. He would do anything to be free again.

"I'll do anyt'ing," he whispered.

"Dis is exile, Remy, you no longer in de Guild. You no longer welcome in New Orleans."

"Things aren't done yet."

"I've done wat you've asked. I done enough."

"There's one more thing."

"I'm not you, I'm not you, I don't know you, I don't know you!" Rogue jumped to her feet. He was staring at her like she was crazy, but he was the crazy one. He shouldn't have touched her. He shouldn't be in her head. She'd been so good, so very good about her powers. The tears started before she could stop them and she turned away from him and headed for the only escape route she'd seen.

Her escape route turned out to be the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her locking it with clumsy, scared fingers. She was afraid of his powers. They sizzled inside her threatening to come out with each touch she made. He followed. She could hear him outside the door. She could see his shadow as he paced. Her fingers wove into her hair as she sunk onto the floor. Hoping that it would fade. It'd been too long. She didn't know if she'd be able to sort her head out again. She began to rock.

"You are you. You are Rogue." She whispered it like a prayer and hoped she wouldn't charge anything else.

"Open de door cherie."

Rogue could feel her face burning. She was so hot. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she tried to keep her mind from thinking in French and off Remy's most painful memories. They were always the most harder to push away. Things he liked, things he hated, things he loved. His passions were pushed on her unrelentingly.

The Professor had helped her gain some control when her powers had come floating a few months ago. It was a cancer she'd thought was gone and all the sudden she had to deal with it again. She'd learned how to control the flow, to keep the most painful memories pushed away until she wanted to look at them. She had shields, methods, and damn breathing exercises but all of that was shot to hell. She had initiated the touch, she had no control of what she received, and his personality was too strong to push away. He didn't like being trapped. He fought like a lion, tearing at her until she didn't think she could hold him off any longer.

It had been a long time since she'd felt tears like this. Yesterday had been out of pain and humiliation, she hated being sick but these, each one felt wrenched from the depths of her soul. They were large and wet and rolled down her cheeks in silent conquest. She fought them but her energy was caught up in fighting Remy. The one in her head wasn't listening to reason and the other, she was sure, was going to knock down the bathroom door.

She gasped as another stream of disjointed memories rushed through her head, threatening to pull her under it's wave. It was then that Remy burst through the bathroom door. The wood splintered around the hinges caving as he forced his way through. Rogue watched him her eyes narrowing at the intrusion. She opened her mouth to yell at him. She told him to go away, told him leave her alone, told him, pleaded, that he go before she took care of him for good.

She didn't realize she was speaking to him in French, that her rather strange eyes were flashing brightly with each sentence, not until he spoke the rolling language back to her. She understood every word. She had always been good with French but comprehension was slow, she had no problem understanding him. He was fast, his words pushed together in a rush to get them out but she understood ever syllable and it sent a slow chill up her spine. She wasn't going to be able to deal with this.

"Get out!" She yelled. She was still speaking French, her temper was enraged. She couldn't stop and he was still speaking slowly, like she was a wounded animal. She got to her feet, ignoring the way the tips of her fingers were burning. She charged him. He dodged but it she knew he was going to and caught him with a jab to the stomach. He barely buckled but it was all the reason to try harder. She charged again, unaware that her new found agility was due to Remy's memories. She knew how to move away from him because she was him.

The crash that corresponded with the opening of the door alerted John to the possibility of trouble. The explosion just confirmed it. He narrowed his eyes, the bag of fast food dropped to the floor as he charged toward the source of commotion. There were only two rooms in his apartment, and since the Cajun and Rogue weren't in view they had to be in the bathroom. Another boom rocked the wall separating the rooms, and plaster fell from his ceiling. The place was going to collapse.

"What the hell!" He yelled but it was pointless. There was more fighting. Cabinets shaking, glass breaking, people grunting. What the hell was going on. Rogue had been passed when he'd gone for food.

John burst through the remains of his bathroom door about to tell them both to quit, but what he saw stopped all proactive action. Remy was indeed fighting Rogue, Rogue with eyes of red on black. She was holding his toothbrush grinning like it was the weapon that would turn the fight in her favor. Her eyes shifted to John and she smirked. It was a lazy one sided smirk that John had seen a thousand times, but it had always been plastered on the Cajun's face.

"Dis guy pretendin' ta be me," she drawled her fingers twitching as she waved the toothbrush, now bright with power, back and forth. "Dere somet'ing goin' on here, eh, somet'ing dat screams Essex."

John froze. She knew, knew enough to be dangerous.

"You gonna help me homme?" She asked.

Remy hadn't taken his eyes off her. Blood ran down the side of his face and neck staining the collar of his long sleeved tee. John let his eyes trail over the Cajun as he looked for more injuries. There wasn't anymore blood, but the sleeve of his shirt was singed away. The hairs on his arm were slightly curled.

"Yeah," John started, he pulled out his lighter. "Just tell me where you want me."

"Ya here dat?" Rogue mocked her eyes leaving John's and landing on Remy, the man she thought was her double, "Dis is over."

John wished he could catch sight of Remy, give him the eye, make a gesture, do some sort of damn signal. He was working blind. He began to form a ball of fire. His mind was racing as he wondered how close he could get it to her without really hurting her. He wagered on pretty damn close, because too far away was not worth the risk. Rogue was out of her mind.

He threw it before he could think anymore. She fell backwards the back of her knees hitting the tub wall. With a yelp she fell in. John could smell burning hair and he hoped he hadn't thrown it too close. Remy immediately jumped forward. Rogue was already getting to her feet, screaming, cussing, all in French, so John couldn't understand a bit of it. Remy put his hand on her chest before she could get her feet and shoved her backward. She hit the porcelain with a loud thud and a gasp. He'd knocked her breath out.

Were they going to have to knock her out again. He had no idea how to get her back. He was about to ask Remy when the Cajun reached for the shower handle and tugged the water on. She blinked as it hit her, soaking her in moments her hair plastering to her forehead. She coughed, gasping, still unable to catch her breath and now hindered by the onslaught of water. She closed her eyes.

John moved to her side. He needed to fix the angle she was sitting in, make it so she could catch her breath. Remy beat him to it. He grabbed her shoulders, gentle for someone who'd just been in a fight with her. She coughed again, gasping for air when her face broke the spray of water. She opened her eyes, green and confused, they stared straight ahead.

"Turn off the water."

Her voice was so soft John barely heard it. She pulled her knees to her chest breathing steadily as the water tapered to a mere drip. She didn't move to wipe the water from her skin, or even the dampened hair out of her eyes. Her voice was rough when she spoke.

"You're not going to let me go, are you?"

She directed the question at Remy her eyes boring into his. John felt invisible.

Remy took his hand off the faucet and pulled himself to his full height. He was solemn as he looked down at her.

"Je suis desole," he whispered.

Rogue pulled her legs closer and rested her chin on her knees. Remy only watched her for a moment longer before pushing his way past John and out of the room. He looked pissed, but it was the kind of pissed that had little to do with the fight.

"Why," she started, but her voice cracked choking her words before she could get them out. John was almost sure he heard a sob, but Rogue was already so wet, he couldn't be sure if there were tears. "Why, do you keep doing this?"

She turned toward him. Her eyes were bright, light reflecting off wetness. There were tears. He didn't recall ever seeing Rogue cry. He turned away from her, ashamed for reasons he couldn't name.

"Why, do you put all this energy into the wrong cause. I never thought you were a bad person. I never really thought you were that bad!"

John didn't know why her words hurt. He'd disappointed a lot of people. He knew that, was okay with that. Rogue pulled her eyes away from his and buried her face in her knees.

"Just leave me alone. For now, just leave me alone."

John backed away from her and out his destroyed bathroom door. He tried to prop it back up, but the hinges were snapped and the lock shattered. He lay it against the door frame. It leaned crazily and threatened to fall back down, and there was a huge gap in by the floor, but it stayed. It was enough to give her some privacy, but it wasn't enough to block out her sobs, not matter how much she tried to suppress them.

"I thought you were a master thief, lock picker extraordinar, what the hell happened to my door." John wasn't really pissed about the door, but being pissed an the real cause would mean he would have to be pissed at himself. He tried real hard to have no regrets.

Remy shrugged. He was sitting on the counter again, shuffling his cards, his brow creased. He was thinking. John hated it when the Cajun, The Gambit, thought too much. It usually meant they were going to have to do something, something a little more dangerous than usual. The fact that he ignored the jab about his skills as a thief was enough to promise trouble.

"Yeah, well you're putting it back up, and how about a new mirror." The other was shattered, bits all over the floor. Had Rogue done it, or Remy. He tried to remember if there was blood on her, but it all happened too fast.

Remy shrugged again. He shuffled his cards high into the air the excess dropping into his palm perfectly. He began cutting the deck with one hand the other ran through his hair.

"We can' let her go."

John swallowed. He had seen the exchange. It was something else he was trying to avoid thinking about. It wouldn't be the first time he'd held someone hostage, but it the first time it wasn't planned, and the first time he'd felt guilty about it.

"Yeah, not something we haven't done before."

Remy shrugged again. John hated that. Hated that Remy was so quiet and he felt compelled to fill the silence.

"Besides she's already here. We just have to keep her here."

"De girl wit untouchable skin, de girl who can knock ya unconscious wit one touch. She be real easy ta keep locked up."

John ignored the look Remy was giving him. "It won't be for long, alright. We're already half way done. We just..." He trailed off.

"Have ta keep Excess from findin' out." Remy jumped off the counter. "Wat did ya get ta eat?"

John was a little surprised with the change in topic. "Um, burgers."

"Bon," Remy answered and started for the crumpled sack on the floor. He pulled out a squashed burger and unwrapped it. It was gone in the matter of seconds. "We gonna have ta tie her up, move her." He swallowed and reached for another burger. "De X-men gonna be after her. We gotta make sure dere no trail to lead deme to us."
"What about tonight, we can't just..."

"Oui," Remy shoved a few fries into his mouth, "Dat why you gonna stay wit de fille. De Gambit gonna go it alone."

Thats the end of chapter three. So tell me what ya think also a little preview for chapter 4.

Rogue was wearing John's clothes, all of them impossibly large on her tiny frame. She was curled in the middle of his bed hands wrapped in gloves. She was talking, animatedly compared to how he'd left her, nearly comatose and wet. Her eyes were still hollow, her cheeks still too red and her lips too pale, but she looked a little better. He had little to compare her to though, just the fire of her first waking and the desolation of her collapse back into reality.

He felt like he should know her better. She'd lived in his mind, had been him for a while and he all he knew about her was her alias and that she'd once been friends with St. John. John when he'd been only three years younger and on his way to herodom. He snorted. Besides himself, John was the last person he'd tag as a hero.

"So they let you stay, I mean even when you were useless."

Rogue seemed indignant and Remy shifted so he could see her face better. She was biting her lip as she looked at him. She looked like she was holding back a storm with her teeth.

"I wasn't useless, and they're my family."

"Family," John laughed, "you were there because they needed something from you."

"And Magneto was a real father figure," she countered hardly missing a beat.

"I knew what Magneto was all about," Remy could hear John fidgeting, "I wasn't surprised when it all went down. I got just what I'd signed up for. Everybody has their own agenda, and it usually revolves around themselves. It's self preservation."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's reality."

"You felt at home there," Rogue was looking at her feet, plucking at the strings on her socks. John had untied her hands. That was a stupid move.

"With you and the iceboy?" John sneered. "Xavier wanted us to fight a war, he recruited us because we could help his cause."

Well that's not an exciting scene, but I've got a few quirks to work out in the action scenes coming up so I couldn't post those. Hope it's enough to keep you interested. Keep giving me that feedback, I feed off those good vibes, and always helpful criticism is welcome and praise when you feel it's deserved. :)