A/N: A lot of people mentioned Remy's attitude up until now, either agreeing with it or saying he's too much of an ass. I was inspired by the X-Men Origins: Gambit comic. You can read it if you have the Marvel Digital Comics Unlimited subscription (only $10 a month and well worth it). He does fluctuate hot and cold in the first couple of panels.
Something else to keep in mind: he's young and privileged. I'm keeping with the comics in the sense that he grew up on the streets after the thieves stole him. But that was a good 15 years previous to the events of this fic. And his life has been pretty posh since. Nothing really bad has happened to him yet, including Stryker. (There was no good way to work that explanation into the prose since it hasn't even happened in this timeline/alternate universe.) So that means I'm breaking with any pseudo timeline the films tried to create (and the ramifications these changes will have on the movies).
Also, I lied (and since adjusted the fic's summary). This fic won't circle back to any of the movies. But the sequel will! ;D (already working on the outline)
Thanks to everyone who has been so very patient and to everyone who's very kindly pestered me every day to update. It's been great to see your opinions and theories. You make keeping plot secrets so much fun! It's definitely my favorite fic to hear from everyone.
Chapter 6
Frustrated. That was the only way to sum up how Remy felt. After storming out, he'd contacted every source he could to try to find Bella Donna's location. Amazingly, or rather suspiciously, no one had any leads. Even the thief that had infiltrated the assassins' ranks had no idea.
Remy was sure Marius had stashed her away during the ceremony. But now that everything was over and the assassins had gotten what they'd wanted, wouldn't he let her go from wherever he'd put her? It just didn't make any sense.
In fact as he thought about it more, Remy realized he hadn't seen her since the Wednesday before the ceremony. At the time, he'd just chocked it up to her being busy with the final arrangements. But what if something had happened to her then? Surely Marius wouldn't kill his own daughter. He may be a sadistic, selfish, power hungry murderer, but Belle was his pride and joy. She even held a higher place than Julien.
With all his resources exhausted, Remy had no choice but to play the waiting game. While he'd mastered the skill of meticulous patience needed to plan a score, he hadn't been able to apply that same talent to other areas of his life. And when it concerned Belle, he swung to the opposite extreme.
Once his contacts agreed to lookout for more information, his neuroticism deflated into a ball of pent-up energy. The years of having to deal with his mutation and its increased effects on his body's basic functions had taught him that only physical exertion worked to refocus his mind. At a little after one in the morning, he'd stripped down to the black tuxedo pants he hadn't bothered to change out of and pushed his body to the limits in the training facility.
Two hours of abusing the equipment hadn't helped him gain any sense of calm. So Remy had given up and gotten drunk again. Stumbling back to his room, the only thing he had on his mind was collapsing into his big bed and sleeping until his phone rang with some kind of news. But first, he really had to piss.
Shuffling through the darkened room, he completely forgot about its new occupant. He wasn't trying to be noisy, but he wasn't living up to his stealthy thief's reputation either. There was no need to turn on a light since he knew the layout like the back of his hand. Instead, Remy padded across the tiled bathroom floor and lifted the toilet seat before letting loose. He hadn't bothered to shut the door.
After an inordinate amount of time, he finished, zipped up, and flushed. The toilet seat remained up as he walked over to wash his hands. What he found on the dual sinks only served to remind him of the wife he didn't want.
Contained within a neat arrangement on the countertop were all the various beauty and skin care products that most females couldn't live without. Granted, the collection of bottles, tubes, and containers didn't even touch the chaotic mass that Belle had in her bathroom. But the sight of his normally spartan counter being cluttered with feminine frills morphed his frustration into resentment. With an indignant roar, Remy knocked all of it into the sink as if he was clearing out the garbage.
Immediately jarred awake by the clatter, Rogue sat up and reached for the knife she'd earned during her Bloodletting, a ritual similar to the thieves' Tithing. Her keen eyes quickly identified the source of the commotion and she raised her arm to throw the blade at the shadowy figure in the bathroom. At the last possible moment, she opened her hand to drop the weapon as her arm continued with the follow through. With her eyes adjusted, she shoved the knife back in its sheath and flicked on the light on the nightstand.
"What the hell d'ya think yer doin'? Ah coulda killed ya!" Rogue shouted.
Matching her volume, he quipped back: "That makes deux of us! Who gave y' permission t' put yo' foutaise on my sink?"
Realizing she had delicate bottles that could have broken, she threw back the covers and grabbed her short silk robe. Rogue quickly threw it around her shoulders as she rushed into the bathroom.
"Yer such an asshole!" She screamed, pushing past him. Her bare hand briefly touched his chest where the thin white undershirt covered his skin.
"Et vous êtes une salope!" He responded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.
"How the hell would you know." Rogue muttered under her breath.
A quick survey of the most important products showed that they were still intact. Returning those few to an upright position on the sink, Rogue decided to take care of the rest later. First, she needed to address her husband.
"Tell me, where am Ah s'pose ta put my stuff if this ain't acceptable?" She asked, mimicking his posture as she leaned against the vanity.
"How 'bout back where y' came from?" Remy countered.
Rogue rolled her eyes as she unfolded her arms. "We both know that ain't gonna happen."
Something in her peripheral vision irked her. Looking to her right, she saw the toilet seat up. She marched over to it and slammed it down.
"Make sure ya put that back down when yer finished bein' disgustin'." She said as she pushed past him.
"I'll do as I damn well please!" Remy childishly countered.
Crossing the room, Rogue ignored him as she shrugged out of the robe and climbed back into the side of the bed closest to the windows. Just like the scenario with the sink, there had been no discernible way to indicate which side was his. Getting to know him the last few hours, she had no doubt Remy was the type to sleep in the middle of the bed and therefore didn't have one specific side.
"What do y' think yo' doin'?" He questioned as he followed her into the bedroom.
"What does it look like Ah'm doin'?" Rogue answered, quickly checking the time on her cell phone. "Ah've been up since six yesterday mornin'. Unlike some people, Ah'm tired."
She knew a little about his mutation, but the exact details were hard to come by. Even the assassin that had infiltrated the thieves' ranks had no idea. What had been determined was that Remy wasn't on a normal sleep schedule like everyone else. Rogue figured he wouldn't be sleeping with her at night as much as a normal man.
"Yo' not gon' sleep in that." He waved at her thin, strappy negligee.
Rogue tried to hide her cringe as she slid under the covers. The short white number was completely backless. It had been chosen for her as a means to expose as much skin as possible for her honeymoon night. That was when the plan still included killing him. Best case scenario, he would have touched her when they consummated the marriage. Worst case, she could have brushed up against him long enough to incapacitate him before draining him dry. Either way, she'd totally forgotten about it when she'd gotten ready for bed earlier in the night.
Tired of all the dictates that had been placed on her for nineteen years, Rogue wasn't about to let Remy add to it.
"Listen." She started, making sure she had his full attention. "Ah've been covered from head ta toe my whole life. The only time Ah ever got ta wear normal clothes was ta bed at night. Ah'mnot about ta change that now just because Ah have ta share a bed. If ya don't like it, you sleep covered up."
Remy just stood flabbergasted by her little speech. It was his house and his bed for crying out loud!
As she pulled the covers up and rolled over, she shot a quick: "There's always the sofa in the other room too."
"I am not sleepin' on de couch." Remy stomped over to the bed.
"Well then Ah guess ya best slap on some long johns." Rogue smirked into her pillow as she flicked off the light.
He huffed as he tried to find something to say. With her lack of clothing, he couldn't very well pick her up and throw her onto the couch. Of course he could always put on gloves and a long sleeved shirt. But if he was going to go to that much trouble, he may as well just climb into bed next to her. She couldn't be that dangerous, could she? If Rogue killed him in their sleep, there'd be an all-out Guild war. Even as bloodthirsty as they were, the assassins didn't want that.
There was an extra blanket in the linen closet. He could always sleep on top of the covers with his back to her. Tired and drunk, he decided that would work best for tonight. Tomorrow, he'd figure out some other arrangement. Grabbing a thin, long sleeved t-shirt, he tossed the garment over his head as he went to fetch the blanket.
Remy flopped onto the bed, situating his pillow before throwing the blanket over his pant-covered legs. Sleeping in the tailored pants would be uncomfortable, not to mention he hadn't showered since working out. But fatigue had finally hit and all he wanted to do was sleep it off. Maybe the nightmare would be over when he woke up.
He wiggled a little bit more, pulling on her share of the covers. Irritated, Rogue forcefully pulled them back on her side. His restlessness caused little reverberations in the mattress, further annoying her.
"Would ya please settle?" She snapped at him.
"Vous allez vous faire foutre?" He quipped back, jerking on the covers one last time just to irritate her.
When Remy finally stopped moving, Rogue readjusted the blankets and closed her eyes. She prayed he didn't snore. Or kick. Or any other foul habit. Since she wasn't going to kill him, she would have to live with him for the foreseeable future. And she wasn't sure she could tolerate any disgusting tendencies.
As sleep finally crept over her thoughts, she gave in to the nothingness of much needed rest. Peace settled over her brain for only a moment before her cell phone loudly chirped into her consciousness. With her pulse racing, she cracked an eye to bright sunlight filling the room. Obviously she'd been asleep longer than it felt. Reaching for the annoying little device, she checked the time as well as the incoming number.
7:02AM
Marius Boudreaux
Groaning, Rogue accepted the call. "Bon matin, père."
She was in trouble. He answered back in French. "Is it? I don't hear any wailin' comin' from de LeBeau Manor."
Responding back in his native tongue, she scrambled out a quick, "Somethin's come up."
Exactly what that something was, Rogue still didn't know. What she did know was that she would have to come up with more and soon.
"Then y' won't mind comin' home for a visit." Marius demanded.
"But the treaty said Ah have ta stay here." She countered as she sat up in bed. Remy was nowhere to be seen.
"I'm sure y'll come up wit' an excuse. Tell them yo' father misses y' already." The sneer was evident to her even through the phone. "There'll be a car waitin' for y' outside in twenty minutes. Don't be late."
"Oui, père." Rogue agreed as the other end of the line went dead.
She laid the phone back on the nightstand before rubbing her hands over her face. How did her life turn into such a clusterfuck? Sliding her fingers through her hair, she realized the blanket Remy slept with last night wasn't on the bed. Other than his side being a little mussed, she never would have known he'd been there last night. Getting out of bed, she made a quick round through the suite.
There was no evidence to show when he'd gotten up and left. His body wasn't lying dead on the floor, so at least he'd survived the night with her. Of course, he would have anyway since she had to consciously think about her mutation to activate it now. Not that he knew that.
Rogue had showered last night before bed, washing the hairspray needed to keep the sleek chignon in place out of her long locks. Still, she felt a little grimy and wanted to rinse off. Brushing her teeth took longer than the quick shower. Even though her things had been brought to the LeBeau Manor yesterday, she'd only felt like unpacking her essentials last night. That meant her clothes were still tucked away in the duffle bags stored inside Remy's walk-in closet.
Rummaging through them, she picked a pair of black cargo pants and long sleeved white tee before layering on a navy utilitarian vest. Rogue had seen Marius' at his most vindictive and didn't know what awaited her. It was best to be fully prepared for a fight. As she zipped up her black knee high boots, she grabbed her knife and cell phone before creeping out of the suite.
No one ran into her on the upper levels. Everyone must have still been asleep after yesterday's big event. As she made it to the main hall, the estate gained a little more life. Toward the back of the house, she could hear pots and pans clattering. Most of the thieves ate at the onsite commissary, but she knew Tante Mattie enjoyed cooking for the LeBeau family. She must be in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
Rogue's stomach growled at the thought of a home cooked meal. Pushing away the sensation, she worked on getting out of the house and to the manor gates without being seen. Once she'd crossed the lush green lawn, she finally let her mind focus on a new strategy. Gris Gris, Marius' Besider, was waiting in a town car at the curb.
"De patriarch is not happy wit' y'." The dark skinned man said as Rogue slid into the backseat.
"Tell me somethin' Ah don't know." She mumbled, staring off into the passing scenery instead of meeting Gris Gris' stern gaze.
The man wasn't all that bad. From an early age, Marius had assigned him to be responsible for her assassination skills and training. Though Gris Gris had never shown her any specific kindness, he'd never looked down on her or treated her as if she was diseased like most of the other assassins had. In a way, Rogue supposed that was a kindness, especially considering the whispers that went around about his mastery over voodoo. Even still, the thirty minute drive to the assassin headquarters was tense to say the least.
Much like the LeBeau Manor, the building was entirely above ground. The first floor concealed any exterior surveillance. As Gris Gris opened the hidden entrance and pulled the car through the service tunnel, Rogue's adrenaline shot up tenfold. She still hadn't come up with a lie convincing enough to hide her failure and buy her more time. Every scenario she imagined she could pick a giant hole in the middle of the scheme. And Marius had a knack for weeding out lies.
When the car came to a stop, Rogue took a deep breath before stepping out of the vehicle. Whatever happened in the next twenty minutes would either destroy her or save her life.
Knowing the protocol by rote, she walked into the rounded chamber. Marius sat upon his throne as if even Death would bow down to him. Though she couldn't see them, Rogue knew the shadows were filled with fellow assassins. Some were even thirsting for her blood. She strode forward, stopping under a bright spotlight designed to be blinding. The only other source of light illuminated Marius ten feet in front of her.
Rogue gave the supplicating gesture all assassins were required to use in showing the Patriarch respect. Instead of lowering her fists when she rose out of the bow, she kept them pressed in place against her forehead. If he had wanted her dead, he could have given the order now while she was blind and held a minimalist defensive posture.
"Why is LeBeau not dead, daughter?" Marius questioned in French.
"He was mad about the marriage. Didn't come to bed right away last night." Rogue's responding Cajun dialect was flawless. Her answer was also the barest of truths.
Marius patience was thin, barely held. "But he did eventually go t' bed."
"Oui." Rogue answered, at a loss for any further explanation.
"Why didn't y' kill him then?" Marius calmly demanded. The other assassins in the shadows shifted, sensing his impending judgment.
Rogue opened her mouth, a lie dying on her tongue. She had no good reason that would save her hide. Her palms started to sweat and she had to resist the urge to fidget. Taking a deep breath, she closed her mouth before locking her jaw. If now was her time to die, she wouldn't do it begging at Marius feet. Her chin lifted ever so slightly in defiance.
Not liking the change in her attitude, Marius prompted, "I'll not ask again. Gimme yo' pitiful excuses now."
Suddenly inspiration hit. Steeling her nerves to pull off a credible lie, Rogue answered: "After he took me up ta his room, he left. Ah took a shower and got ready for bed. When he still hadn't come back, Ah went lookin' for him."
"That explains nothing!" Marius shouted as he jumped to his feet.
"It explains everythin'!" Rogue yelled back, not giving him a chance to argue before adding: "Ah wandered through the whole house lookin' for him. Ah found him in Jean-Luc's office. They were talkin' over the weddin'. They're expectin' an attack from us and plannin' a coup of their own."
When Rogue finished, her breathing was heavy from a combination of screaming, anxiety, and passion. Once she committed to something, she didn't let it go.
"All the more reason t' eliminate LeBeau!" Marius countered.
"All the more reason ta let him live." Rogue disagreed. "The Unified Guild ain't been created yet. The leadership ain't been passed on. If he dies now, the peace won't last. If Ah find out their plan first, y'all have all the cards."
The fact that Marius planned to kill her as well wasn't far from her mind. But she wasn't supposed to know that he wanted the peace to last just long enough that he could gain control of both Guilds. So she pretended the desire for peace was genuine.
Marius sat down, deep in thought as his critical eyes roamed over her. The lie had sounded real even to her own ears. She seriously doubted her adoptive father had picked it out. Instead, Rogue was hoping he was mulling over the idea of having a spy deep in the thieves' rank. The double agent already at the manor hadn't been able to get out of the bunkhouses and into the inner council yet.
After several tense minutes of his sharp gaze boring into her soul, Marius finally spoke. "Alright, daughter. Y' have de time y' need. But don't think this is an unlimited allowance. Yo' purpose always has been and always will be t' take out LeBeau."
"Of course, father." Rogue agreed before boldly adding: "Ah need ta be considered sub rosa."
It was an ancient term, dating back to the Old Kingdom. During its most prosperous time when both Guilds lived in peace and cooperation, the councils would often secretly meet over more clandestine matters. A rose was hung over the table as a token to everyone present that anything discussed within the meeting was confidential.
Of course the legend surrounding sub rosa also usually included a thief violating the pact and starting the Guild Wars of the New Kingdom. After having spent a little time with the thieves, she was sure they would say it was an assassin who broke the vow of secrecy.
It really didn't matter anymore which side had done what. The assassins now used the term to mean someone who needed to assume deep cover in order to fulfill a contract. Her right to claim the special protection was valid. But would Marius grant it?
"Alright." He acquiesced. "But y' will provide updates durin' de negotiations of power. And I needn't remind y' that y' will continue t' accept other contracts. T' keep up appearances of course."
Obviously he did need to remind her or else he wouldn't have brought it up. His genial smile belied the disgust shining in his eyes. With a thinly veiled lie, Rogue had successfully disrupted his plans.
"There's no other way." Rogue said.
"Good. Then I'll leave y' t' take out de trash." Marius dismissed her as he waved toward someone behind her.
The insult toward Remy was overlooked as she tamped down the panic that one of the other assassins had been behind her to deliver the killing blow. She hadn't even noticed anyone creep up behind her and she'd always excelled at detecting attackers. By the time she spun around, only Gris Gris stood on the outskirt of the bright spotlight. Surely he hadn't been the one ordered to kill her, had he?
The light over Marius clicked off, followed by the one that she had been under. Only faint accent lighting in the highest rafters provided her enough illumination to see her way out.
"This way, demoiselle." Gris Gris held out a hand to indicate her path, quickly correcting himself of the old habit and adjusting to her married status. "Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle."
Rogue just gently smiled at him, wordlessly accepting the gesture. He fell into step behind her as she moved through the barren service tunnel.
It wasn't until she was in the car and Gris Gris pulled away from the manor that she finally allowed herself to let go of the breath she'd been holding. Rogue couldn't believe she'd been able to pull it off. Even afterward, she believed that it was all a ruse to get her guard down and attack before she could leave the compound.
The drive back to the LeBeau Manor seemed even shorter than the journey away from it. She'd been lost in her thoughts and next steps while Gris Gris had been content to let her be. What seemed like only a handful of minutes passed before they pulled up to the same spot Rogue had used earlier that morning.
"Bonne chance, jeunes une." Gris Gris turned around to give her the well-wish face to face.
"Merci, ami." Rogue answered in kind before slipping out of the backseat.
Just as she'd been able to sneak away from the manor, she slipped back into the expansive estate without anyone noticing. Unlike earlier, the lower level was ringing with silence. By the perfect state of the formal dining room, it was obvious she had missed breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the memory that she hadn't eaten since the reception yesterday. Even then, she'd picked at her food. Maybe she could sneak some fruit out of the kitchen before heading back upstairs for more sleep.
Though the house was her home now, Rogue quietly toed through the main hall to the kitchen. Like the formal dining room, it had been spotlessly cleaned before being abandoned until lunch. Padding over the smooth marble floor, she opened the refrigerator to search for some grab and go items. Loading her arms up with a bottled water, an apple, and a couple fresh croissants, Rogue shut the door only to come face to face with Tante Mattie.
"Geez, ya scared the sh-" Rogue startled but Mattie quickly cut her off: "If'n ya say that filthy word in my kitchen, I'mma wash yo' mouth out wit' dat lye soap."
The older woman nodded toward the sink.
"Ah'm sorry, Tante." Rogue said, thoroughly admonished.
Mattie looked her up and down, her arms folded over her chest. Giving Rogue the hard eye she had at the reception, the set of her mouth and cocked hip screamed 'mhmm, I know where ya been de last few hours and it ain't been here'. After a moment of Rogue squirming under her scrutiny, Mattie finally uncrossed her arms.
With a light scolding, she said: "Breakfast is promptly served at eight every mornin'. For de whole family."
Her command was clear. It was expected that Rogue would be present at the table with her new relatives. She doubted even Remy went against Mattie's schedule, dragging himself out of bed regardless of what time he went to sleep.
"Yes, ma'am." Rogue was careful to make her tone respectful, not sarcastic.
"Expectin' supper and dinner ta be the same." Mattie continued, waiting for another promise.
Again, Rogue respectfully answered, "Wouldn't think otherwise, Tante."
Mattie gave her another hard look before nodding in satisfaction. Her newest ward wouldn't miss another meal. Turning to leave the room, her parting words were: "Don'chu go fillin' up on anythin' more than that and ruin yo' appetite, chile."
"Yes, Tante." Rogue didn't even get a chance to respond before the mother figure was already out the kitchen and down the hall.
With a quick glance at the clock, Rogue figured she had about two hours to fit in a quick nap. She had no doubt that after inhaling the food she'd be out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
(X)
Foutaise – crap
Et vous êtes une salope! – And you're a bitch
Vous allez vous faire foutre? – Would you please fuck off ?
Demoiselle – young woman
Bonne chance, jeunes une. – Good luck, young one
