Wow, long time no read, heh. Well, I'm right now sitting and fiddling and trying to come up with letters to put together into words to put together into sentences to finish off the tenth chapter. Only a page and a half or so more, then it'll be finished. I've been, for reasons unknown to me, writing a lot less than I used to and I've been drawing more, I produce about one drawing per day, if you want to see go to my homepage on my profile, that's a link to my deviantArt. My guess is that because my computer broke about six months ago, I got out of the loop on writing. Eh, mostly because about a month after my compie broke, that laptop I was using as a replacement broke too. Then there was nowhere comfortable to write.
Anywho, since I'm such a nice omnipotent being I give you this.
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men and if I did I would be a very happy person. And... that's not really the truth xP But whatever! read! and comment, pwetty pwease? Comments make me write quicker!
"So, you're saying it was all their fault?"
"Oui. Poor Remy innocent."
Evelyn giggled and sat down in a very comfortable leather armchair. The apartment was very fancy, and Remy had claimed it belonged to a friend of his. Something about that seemed very off to the near eighteen-year-old woman, but she shrugged it off. If Remy turned out to be a complete perv out after only one thing, she'd electrocute him.
"So," Remy called from the kitchen. "You be wantin' something to eat? We have… Ooooh, not very much, Remy's afraid," he sounded terribly disappointed.
"Just surprise me then," she called back. "I'm not peckish when it comes to food, as long as its not fried and then dipped in grease, with a side of grease. You know?"
"Remy got de point, no-go on de grease-o." He called. Evelyn giggled and Remy came back out. His trench coat hung in the hall and his button-up shirt seemed to have been abandoned in the kitchen. All he was wearing was a tight, black tank top and baggy, dark jeans. "What?" he asked as she stared.
"Your accent," she managed breathlessly. She'd always been weak to handsome men with nice muscles. And Remy's arms were very nice indeed. "It's…" she pulled herself together and smiled, wishing she didn't look like a blue wreck, "Adorable," she said cheerfully.
Remy flashed her a smile and winked. "Remy knows." Then he returned to the kitchen, chuckling.
Evelyn got up and went over to the bathroom. She figured it out because of the pretty sign on the door. She looked incredibly pale, she noticed. Only a powder blue color rested on her cheeks. Her hair was messy and a dark, dark blue. Her eyes at least were full of life.
She found a hairbrush and managed to untangle most of the chaotic mess on her head. She removed her large sweatshirt and wondered what she thought when she bought the shirt that she wore under. It made her look so tiny, and she had no idea what color it really was. In her eyes, it looked good. She thought it seemed to be some sort of off white, but it might as well have been pale beige or yellow.
At least the push-up made it look like she had something like a chest.
She returned to the living room, listening to the noises from the kitchen. She noticed, to her joy, a stereo in a corner. She skipped over to it, studying the cd's in the shelf next to it.
She found an old one she recognized, and put it in the player. The familiar beat brought back memories from when she was younger, and she smiled.
Remy stuck out his head from the kitchen. Evelyn met his eye, blushed and smiled. "Pretty color, cheri," Remy pointed out and Evelyn blushed even more. She wondered if her cheeks weren't totally glowing by now, and how awful it looked.
"Thanks," she said happily. Remy smirked and nodded into the kitchen. "Dinner be served, petite cheri. Remy knows it dun' be much, but Remy's friend didn't fill up de fridge 'fore he left."
Evelyn walked into the kitchen and saw two bowls of noodles with vegetables in. Remy seemed to fight a blush as he tried to explain, continuing on his previous statement, but Evelyn tuned him out. There were two glasses of a purplish-looking liquid, which meant it was red, assumedly wine. The room (or table) was lit up by a number of candles on the table.
"Oh you smooth-talker you. Shush, it's perfectly fine." She turned around and stretched up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Then she bounced over to the table and sat down like nothing had happened.
To her it was nothing. She was an impulsive person and was much for physical contact. She could hug strangers on the street sometimes, because they looked like they needed a hug.
Remy sat down as Evelyn was playing with the wine, poking the glass lightly with her fork.
"Evelyn, Evelyn, ma cher," Remy tutted, laughter in his voice. "You drink dat. It be wine. I hope you dun mind red, dere was no other."
Evelyn looked at him through the glass, smiling at his distorted, purple face. "One, what makes you think I'm old enough to drink, and two, are you sure it's wine? Sure it's not blood?"
Remy looked a bit taken aback for a moment, but then he smiled charmingly. "You dun be old enough? Ooooh, you certainly look it. Or, perhaps not over twenty, but Remy neva' really cared."
"As for de wine," he smirked, "You'll just have to taste, dun' you, cheri?"
Evelyn smirked. "Cheers then. For a fairly pleasant day, and perhaps a fairly pleasant friendship?"
"Sounds good to Remy." They raised their glasses and Evelyn brought it to her lip, taking a sip. It was sweet wine and felt pleasant on her tongue.
Evelyn giggled. "Was Remy right? You a red wine person?" Evelyn nodded.
The conversation went on through the "dinner" about everything and nothing. After, they moved to the living room and sat down in the comfortable couch. They had opened a second bottle of wine, and Evelyn was a bit giggly. Remy had switched cd's, so there was a soft music in the background.
That was when Evelyn decided to confront him.
"This isn't your friend's apartment, is it?"
Remy looked at her, surprised. "Non, cheri," he answered.
"At least you're honest. I don't really care though. Real cute of you to be stealing an apartment to have somewhere for me to stay."
"Remy wouldn't be callin' it stealin', petite cher. More like, borrowin' without permission."
"How very quaint then." Evelyn giggled. The she began coughing. Remy moved closer and pulled her arms up in the air. His hand traveled discretely from her sides, and all the way over her arms in the process. "Clearin' de airways, cheri," he answered her questioning gaze.
Soon enough, she began breathing normally again. Remy's soft hands felt nice against her bare arms, and she discretely put her arms down and leaned slightly against him.
"LeBeau, did you say earlier?" she asked, and Remy nodded. "I recognize the name. Wasn't there like, a big clan a couple of years back, down in New Orleans with that name?"
Remy squirmed, but sat still. "Oui."
"Oh, so you're part of the clan!" Evelyn giggled. She had just found out exactly what she needed. "Cool. I've always wanted to be part of a clan. Okay, so maybe a clan of thieves wouldn't be my first choice, but -"
"Hush, cheri," Remy whispered and placed a finger over her lips.
Evelyn wasn't sure why what happened next really happened, but she turned around and face Remy for a moment, before she kissed him. If it was the wine and atmosphere or simply because Remy was a very sexy man and Evelyn a very impulsive person, she wasn't sure. But he returned the kiss with passion.
Hands began moving over skin, and after a while and a few well-whispered words from Evelyn, Remy lifted her up and carried her to a bedroom.
Evelyn giggled and rolled over on her back. The ceiling looked just the same as it usually did; black. Empty and void, just like parts of her mind. Someone had joked about that sometime.
"Evelyn, you're thinking again…"
Evelyn giggled and let her fingertips trace the muscles on Remy's chest. Remy stared at her, where she laid, childishly drawing in her mind.
She saw a couple of scars. Being the inquisitive person she was, she had to ask. "What's this one from?" she asked, pointing to one on his side. Remy looked and smiled.
"Remy was shot dere. He, ah, kinda got into some trouble back down in New Orleans. Dey not be too fond of him no more."
Evelyn smiled and nodded. "And this one?" she pointed to one on his shoulder.
"Remy be stabbed in a fight." He smiled at her curiosity. Evelyn looked over his body; she was sure she had seen another one.
"What about this one?" she asked, poking one on his thigh.
"Ooh, ooh. Ah remember dat one especially much. You see, a couple of years back, Remy was breakin' an entry, and dere he met un petite fille, and she went stabbin' him right dere. Cute little fille. Brave one too." Evelyn thought that sounded just as familiar as the name LeBeau. "Really? Tell me more."
"De house Remy and his boys were breakin' into belonged to some fancy ol' politician homme, and he be supposed to be out of de house for dat weekend. But what Remy didn' expect was their little petite left home alone. Oh, how old could she have been, nine, ten?"
"Thirteen," Evelyn said quietly with a grin. Remy looked confused. "She was thirteen, the little girl. She just looked a lot younger. She can still remember those scary red eyes; she sometimes still sees them in her dreams, in her nightmares."
"But, what do I know, I was just a little girl back then."
Remy looked very shocked.
"Evelyn McKenzie Dahl," Evelyn said with a wide smile. "Born the thirty-first of January, ah, some years ago. Grown up in New Orleans, abandoned by my parents three and a half years ago, they claimed I died in a drowning accident. I-"
"Wait," Remy exclaimed, sitting up. "You were thirteen? But - dat means you be only seventeen!"
"Actually, I'm eighteen in a week."
Remy threw the cover over her, covering his own vital parts with a pillow. "What! Oh, oh, girl should've said so, Remy be twenty-one!" Even though he looked horrified there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Don't get your panties in a twist. Ah, you're not wearing anything, so just cool down, okay? I know it's difficult, I mean, you're so hot, but, uh… Yeah." Evelyn giggled confusedly and threw the cover off of her head. Her hair was very messy, very messy, but very cute. "I don't care, right? I think you're cute, in fact, I think you're gorgeous, and I think you seem like a great guy. And I like you, kinda. There was chemistry between us, don't you think?" she said bluntly. "Besides, I've had older boys than you."
Remy sat shocked after her blunt tirade, and Evelyn giggled. "You look cute when you don't have anything to say." Then she yawned and stretched out her petite body. "I'm tired." She took the cover over her and laid down on the edge of the bed.
A moment later, she sat up straight. "Underwear," she muttered, bending down and fishing up hers. She got them on in lightning speed and then grabbed her tank top and pulled that on as well. Remy was studying her movements; she could feel his eyes on her body.
She gave Remy a quick look and a smile, and then she lay down again and pulled the cover over her. One, two, three, four, five, she counted to herself, and that was how long it took before Remy sat up and found his own underwear.
Three, two, one, Evelyn counted, and then she felt Remy's arms hesitantly placing itself around her body, and then the heat of Remy's body against hers.
Dwelling in the serenity she felt from another person's body against her own, Evelyn smiled, and let herself fall asleep.
Laura tapped her fingers on the table next to her. Her colleagues were calling her obsessive and her boss was getting worried.
Perhaps she was obsessing, but there was something about the whole story that captivated her so. She wanted to hear the ending, like a small child and a long bedtime story. The tapes came in daily, and Evelyn kept talking to this other persona, Eva. She described every single detail as though it had happened the previous day, even though it was several years.
Laura could do nothing but suppose that captivity and isolation did that to one.
When Remy came into the kitchen the next morning, Evelyn was already very busy cooking. The whole kitchen smelled deliciously of pancakes. The TV was on and the sound was turned up loud so Evelyn could hear the news. So far there hadn't been anything interesting at all, and Evelyn entertained herself by humming lightly and dancing to the music in her head.
She hadn't dressed, but was prancing around in the tank top and her underwear. She had stolen Remy's button-up and had rolled up the sleeves, but she hadn't buttoned it. She felt ecstatic; it was ages since she cooked breakfast for someone, she hadn't done it since she left the circus.
Remy was a nice guy, she could feel it. They had talked about everything and nothing, on and off during the night, and they seemed to wake up around the same moments. They shared a love of music from New Orleans, as well as a love of cooking. It was so easy to talk to him; she could open up directly without any problem at all. It felt so right, and suddenly, she missed Kurt. She hadn't seen him or heard from him (not that she had tried to contact him either) since she left Boston and the church, three weeks earlier. After living together for three years in the circus, three weeks apart felt like ages.
Evelyn had needed to get out of there, she had felt suffocated, like something big was coming up and she was going to miss it. Like it was waiting for her, but wasn't going to wait for too long. She wasn't going to let her mutancy stop her from living.
Kurt hadn't had anything to say about it, and when she thought about it, it may have been a bit of a cruel way to leave. He had barely even been awake, and once he had awoken he must have been greeted by the most fantabulous hangover ever.
The news caught her attention as she elegantly flipped a pancake up in the air.
It landed less elegantly on the floor as she listened to the reporter.
"An attack on the White house took place this morning. Representatives are holding a press conference momentarily, where they perhaps will describe the perpetrator. Rumors have it to be a mutant. Over to the White house."
Evelyn peeked out into the living room and saw just as they switched to the press conference.
"A mutant attacked the White house, yes. This mutant left after him a knife, which he had used to cause harm to the President. He failed, luckily, because of a shot from one of our people. The knife held a small ribbon, saying 'Mutant freedom now'."
"How did you know it was a mutant?" a young reporter asked. Inexperienced.
"By two facts. One, it could vanish and reappear in a cloud of blue smoke. Two, it had a tail, fangs, yellow eyes, and it was completely blue."
The press conference disappeared and the reporter appeared with a serious smile.
"We have, from our sources, an exclusive footage from the White house security cameras. These images show the mutant entering the White house and attacking two guards."
The still photos appeared on the screen and Evelyn dropped the glass she'd been holding. It shattered by her feet, pieces flew everywhere, cutting her legs and feet, but she barely noticed.
On the TV-screen were pictures of Kurt.
There was no time for thinking. She forgot all about the pancakes and headed straight for the bedroom, half running. She bumped into Remy, who'd been watching as well, and was half-dressed, wearing only jeans since she had occupied his shirt.
"No time," Evelyn muttered. She found her pants and pulled them on, grabbed her long-sleeved and pulled it on as well. Then she quickly got on her boots, ignoring socks, grabbed her coat and left.
This all happened too fast for Remy to react.
"Eva, why can't I see you?"
"Because you aren't ready."
"Can't you just touch me?"
"No."
"If I reach out my hand, can you just… Touch my fingertips?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you aren't finished with your life, Evelyn. Not yet…"
"Fuck!" Evelyn cursed as she read the boards. A train had just left for Boston, five minutes before she got there. The next one didn't leave until the next freaking day.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" she yelled, and people began staring at her. She paused for a moment, and then exclaimed "FUCK!" even louder. She had forgotten her bag with Remy.
She sunk down against a near-by wall. Her money, the little cash she had, was in that bag. As was her ATM card, her sketchpads, her mp3, clothes and photos. The few she had left.
"Fuck," she whispered and slid down against a wall. Usually she would be able to find something fun in the situation, something to brighten the moment. But she took a look at the negative facts; her best friend and non-romantical soul mate had tried to murder the president, she had left the apartment of a gorgeous, funny, smart, charming man, who now had all her stuff, she had no money, she was a blue mutant, and she was all alone.
She looked up to see if she could find something pretty to make her happy. A young couple was holding hands, but the woman was yelling at a small child. Discipline, yech. An old couple was sitting close to each other, sharing a newspaper. They began kissing. Ew, old people's porn!
A tall man in a trench coat with sunglasses on, looking suspiciously like Remy, holding a bag that looked suspiciously like hers… Wait. It was Remy and he was holding her bags!
She stood up, feeling a bit better. He saw her, smiled and waved, and then he walked over to her.
"You be forgettin' you' bag," Remy tutted with a smirk. "And cheri, Remy hasn't been hearin' dat much swearing since he left New Orleans and Mardi gras behind him."
Evelyn nearly sighed, but smiled instead. She had something to be happy for. "Well, the next train doesn't leave until tomorrow, and I really need to get back to Boston. But thanks, at least now I've got my stuff and my money. Right?" she gave him a mock-skeptic look, trying to hide her smile. Remy shrugged innocently, still smirking.
"All you' money be left, cheri. But ooooh, Remy can't stand for disappearin' undies."
She slapped him on the arm. "Perv!" she laughed. He chuckled.
"Seriously though, Remy could give you a ride. If you want to?"
"You gonna steal a car for my sake too?" Evelyn asked, still laughing.
Remy looked offended. "Non, cheri. Remy's got a car, and he almost feels offended." He began walking and Evelyn swung the bag over her shoulder and followed him. She glanced at her hands and saw that they seemed pale. That meant her face was pale as well, and whatever color they was would look like make-up.
She pulled down her hood and hurried up a bit so she could keep up with Remy's pace. They went out on the parking lot. Evelyn looked at the cars parked there, because Remy had stopped and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Um," Evelyn muttered, grinning. Hey eyes fell on an ancient, rusty Volvo. "That one?"
"Oh, cheri. Now Remy actually be feelin' insulted. D'you really be thinkin' Remy would be drivin' such a heap?"
Evelyn giggled. "You should feel no need to compensate for yourself, right?"
"Touché." Remy admitted, but smirked. "But Remy be decidin' he needed a hot car to match de gorgeous body, non? Just like handbags and shoes. C'mere cheri and Remy'll show you."
"Here she be. Remy's pride and glory." A red sports car stood parked in the far end of the parking lot. Remy smirked. "What d'you think now den, cheri? Better dan a rusty ol' Volvo?"
"I don't know," Evelyn said with a grin. "You don't think it cuts against the blue?"