Present Day
Remy Etienne Lebeau had just seen a ghost. A ghost he would've paid any sum in the world to see. Not that he could, Anna Marie, his one and only, the girl who had, well had stolen his heart had appeared to him yet again and he knew that she would have given anything to keep him as far away from her as possible. She was so different. So much older, grown into the woman he said, he hoped she never would be. It frightened him to think that someone that gorgeous, someone that beautiful could think she was anything but. She was the only person who could bring Remy to his knees with one utterance, one simple word. She was the person who had fixed him in all too literal ways and he owed her his life.
But that was a long time ago. Or at least that is what he'd tell himself all these years later. He tried to get her out of his head, tried to extract the memory of those days spent in the hot summer heat, chasing wisps of dreams on the sizzling concrete and busy stream. He had to remind himself that that wasn't his life anymore, that the likelihood of it ever being his life was long gone. He had to love another. He had promised her. This was the only way he could keep that promise, and inevitably it also meant that he'd have to break it. Why he ever made that promise, that impossible binding pact that he knew he would never be able to keep he didn't know. Maybe it was the fact that she made him forget all logic. He was overcome by something primal when around Rogue. Something that made him less than remotely aware of anything that wasn't her.
He entered the house long left empty. He hated this house, this mansion that would never be home. He missed Tante and Mercy, hell he even missed Henri and Jean-Luc. They were at least semblances of a family, despite being broken and severed and scattered they were his. No here he was not home.
The mansion of the great Boudreaux's was not his home. Would never be his home. Not even once he and Belle were married. He dreaded the day. Not that he would tell anyone. He had fallen in love with Belle a long time ago and the love was long ago lost. She was his best friend in a time before he knew what the word meant. They had always been there for each other, until one day they weren't, had gone separate ways. Belle had gone on to be a spoiled senseless brat; Gambit had gone on to be a rebellious and prodigal son. They had their similarities that much was certain, but they were never compatible in the way they were forcing themselves to be now.
He had resigned himself to a life with Belle, he was comfortable enough with her, could even delude himself into believing he loved her, but in all reality he didn't, couldn't. That damn ghost just happened to be everything he was living for.
He walked into the living room of the house he didn't belong in and sat in a large purple velvet wingback chair undoing several buttons of his shirt as he stared into the mantelpiece. Wondering if would ever be able to mend the ties he long lost or would the tips just burn and disintegrate like everything else he had ever loved in his life. He wondered about those five years ago.
Five Years Prior
Why he had decided to run away from his responsibility he had no idea. He was never one to be too enthralled with the life of a privileged socialite. But that sure as hell was what Jean-Luc wanted. He owed his father everything, but sometimes he just didn't understand that Remy's heart never was with the family business not matter how hard his father wanted him to be a part of it. Henri was the son that wanted to be the second in command, that would hang on Jean-Luc's every word but for some reason he wasn't the son he wanted to take up the reigns when it was time for Jean-Luc to step down as patriarch.
He had literally run when Jean-Luc put that burden on him. Remy didn't know how, or want for that matter, to run the kinda business his family had been a part of since the name Lebeau had made its way into the New World. He hated when his father used that spiel. It didn't make any sense; just like Remy running his company didn't make sense.
At nineteen Remy knew what he wanted, and that consisted of drowning his sorrows in a bottle (or three) of Jack, partying until the sun rise with his best friend and partner in crime, John aka Pyro, and finding solace in between the legs of a (few) new beautiful woman every night. The only way he knew how to do this however, was not to go home, ever.
He had been essentially living with the Darkholme's (or was it the Lensherr's he was never positive, the family to him just signified yuppies and he was happy enough flying under their radar for as long as he possibly could) for the past couple of months.
He and John had had a rough night (well it wasn't so much rough unless you count the way Remy handled that Russian foreign exchange student in which case it was very rough but she wouldn't complain, at least not until she felt it tomorrow). They had stumbled into the house at around 4:15 that morning, John so plastered that he could barely walk. John's room was really more of a penthouse/ pool house. Remy wasn't one to complain; John's apartment had all he needed, including its own separate bathroom and guest room which Remy was currently taking advantage of. He plopped down onto the pillow top queen sized bed with the bright red comforter and satin sheets and closed his eyes. He didn't even bother taking off his jeans, they were comfortable enough.
The last thing Remy wanted to hear at 5:30 in the morning, besides the possible moaning of woman who was underneath him, was a noise loud enough to bring him out of his slumber. But that is what happened. How he could've heard something hit against the far wall, closest to the house he wasn't positive; but he had always been a light sleeper. He got up slightly irritated and walked through the pool house. He knew it wasn't Pyro; there was no way John was getting up before 1:00 that afternoon.
Remy stole out the pool house, on the left was the wall to his wing of the penthouse, and to his right was the wall of the Lensherr's (Darkholme's?) house, or rather Pyro's little sister's room. He wondered idly what Rogue could possibly be doing to be making that much noise. The girl was definitely not the type to rile up trouble, he knew that much. She was quiet, reserved, but also opinionated and strong willed this much he knew from the rare conversations he had had with her. The last time he had seen her she had been shipped off to some summer program in Argentina that Ms. Darkholme (Lensherr?) had been comped for after helping some diplomat out with some mining crisis. That had been about a year ago. Remy wondered if she still had jet lag and couldn't sleep maybe that's why she was making so much noise.
Either way Remy decided to at least check, and opened the adjoining door and walked up the hallway to the door at the end of the short hall. When he opened the door the last thing he expected was to lose his ability to think.
She was fifteen. He was nineteen. This was not supposed to be something that went on. He was a horny man (teenager) and she was an innocent girl. He was not supposed to be thinking the things he was. Let alone about his best friend's little sister. One who had grown up, NO he was not supposed to be thinking that. After making sure that the gorgeous creature was perfectly safe, he left. Had to leave. He would not compromise his friendship with Pyro just because he was horny, he just needed to get laid. But he had already, twice the night prior.
He was in trouble. Big trouble. Tremendous trouble. And trouble happened to have a name: Anna Marie Rogue Darkholme-Lensherr.
Remy skulked back down the hall, back out the side door, into the pool house and sat down on the large queen sized pillow top with red silk sheets and cozy red comforter and put his head in his hands. There was something brewing at the surface, he could feel it. And he didn't like it. He tried to lay down, to make himself go back to sleep but it was nearly impossible.
He found that he didn't need to sleep, because after finally finding solace in the sweet dreamland filled with a thousand Rogue's all calling his name in blissful rapture, there was a loud pounding on the front door of the pool house that send him flying into the living room, for fear that his perversity had been found out.
Gambit knew that Pyro was not going to be answering the door anytime soon so after a long pregnant pause he went to the door and shyly opened it, he felt for some reason like this was the last place he was supposed to be. Then he thought about it and realized that it was definitely better than being under the covers with Rogue. Remy slowly slid open the door to see a rather angry faced Eric Lensherr staring back at him. He tried to be as polite as possible at six in the morning after having very inappropriate thoughts about this man's sixteen year old daughter. It was beyond difficult.
"Gambit, what in the hell!—" Eric began. "Nevermind, where's John, he needs to get off of his-"
Eric pushed past Remy at the door and began to search for his son amongst the various pieces of furniture decorating the sprawling pool house. After thoroughly searching the living room, he stalked into the master bedroom, slamming the doors open to find John passed out on the floor of his room the comforter securely wrapped around his head with his bare ass hanging out and exposed to the world, Gambit laughed when he saw that John still had on his socks and shoes. Eric turned around and glared at Gambit, he automatically stopped laughing.
"GODDAMNIT JOHN! GET OFF OF YOUR ASS!"
The comforter began to stir slightly as Eric bent down and yanked it causing the body to jerk forward and Pyro to come tumbling out of the mess of blankets red eyed, irritated and naked. John Darkholme-Lensherr had inherited two things from his mother, her bright red hair that bordered on orange and her ridiculously high tolerance for alcohol. However, it seemed that anytime John went drinking with Gambit he would inadvertently end up drunk which for him was difficult and which Gambit found hilarious, sadly John was his only friend that could remotely keep up with his drinking habits. He could still drink John under the table within an hour though.
From Eric, however, John had inherited an indescribable need to be the best of the best. This was extremely hard when Pyro hung out with Gambit as Gambit had a way of just getting what he wanted without trying which led to a ridiculous rivalry between the two.
John who was now staring up at his father with bleary eyes and mussed up hair that looked like he had been electrocuted in a cartoon, smirked at Remy before standing up in all his nude glory to face his father.
"John Allen Darkholme-Lensherr why the hell are you not up! It's your sister's sixteenth birthday and we are having over three hundred people over in the next couple of hours and you have not even started to prepare, you know how much this day means to us. It's the day-" Eric lectured as John strode around the room finding his boxers and stepping into them as his father spoke, casually acting as if nothing mattered.
"Let's get one thing straight, dad, today is not Rogue's day it's yours and mother's so stop going on about how it's important for her, it's important for you two and the campaign-" John stated as he took a seat on his mattress the sheets hanging off of the large bed completely.
Eric's face was set in a large grimace, the man who had prematurely gone gray but who had a build that challenged that of even his son, angrily stood with his jaw clenched. His muscles were tensed underneath his light blue silk button down.
"John you are completely out of line. Now you will be-"
John sighed loudly enough to cut off his father's words before standing up and stretching, he had one of the worst headaches in his life. He did not want to even look at daylight let alone converse in it with three hundred other people with veneered smiles and ulterior motives.
"Well I could give a rat's ass what you and Raven do today. I am going to take a shower, grab some toast and an extra strength Advil and take my little sister out for a good time," John began to walk into the en suite bathroom.
"John I don't care what you want to do, but know that today is not about you. So get ready, come to the house and get this place cleaned the fuck up. Gambit," Eric grumbled through clenched teeth before turning to John's companion who had been leaning nonchalantly against the door frame as father and son went at it. "If you would like to stay you can but do not do anything to ruin this fucking day or so help me god I will-"
Gambit's mind went straight to exile, something told him that Eric would be perfectly fine with sticking him on an island in the middle of nowhere to live for the rest of his life in a grass hut.
"We get it, just go already before I projectile vomit on you," John yelled from the bathroom as he started the shower.
Eric clenched his hands into fists before storming out of his son's room. Pyro was more than a rebel and though Eric could easily identify with his son, it also made him a liability.
Gambit stood in the doorway for a moment longer before John showed his face yet again, slightly less irritated and with a smug smirk gracing the corners of his mouth.
"So here's the deal, I'm assuming guests will be showing up around ten-ish, shower, borrow whatever the fuck you need to wear, we'll make an appearance then steal Roguey for a little fun, come back before anyone freaks and then go and do our own thing. Sound good?" John asked as he began to pick out the suit he was going to wear to the formal event that was Rogue's sixteenth birthday.
Gambit shrugged his shoulders as he leaned against the doorway. In all honesty the last place he wanted to be was with Rogue, if not for the paranoia that his thoughts might become actions. He shivered internally before nodding to Pyro. Things were going to change and he wasn't sure if he was going to like it very much; hell he was positive he wasn't.
