One kiss.
A kiss at the end of the world. She tries to pull away as soon as their lips touch, too conditioned and too fearful even now, but Gambit threads his fingers into her hair and makes her take it all. If he has to die, he wants to drown in her.
She stumbles back as he collapses, clutching her head, tears pouring down her face, eyes wide and darkening into black and red. Blood and death, Le Diable Blanc…
She knows, she understands it all. Finally they're equal; finally she knows as much about him as he does her (quite possibly more.) He's given his all to her, invites her to sit in judgment.
They're going to dance the tango in hell.
But they hadn't died, none of them had, and that's the problem.
They've come to an agreement, now. She hasn't quite forgiven his sins but she understands them, accepts things and has moved on, and that has to be enough for him. For now, at least.
He's forced her to loosen up. Remy's poked and prodded her into playing dress up: into experimenting with different weights and textures of cloth, mixing styles, figuring out just how much skin she can leave uncovered and where. He nagged her until she sat down and started messing around with her makeup, using it to enhance her features instead of hiding them behind a heavy Gothic mask.
You better off wit'out dat stuff, chere. he tells her. You a beautiful woman, Rogue. Don' be 'fraid of it.
I'm not that good lookin', Swamp Rat. Don't try'n make me as vain as you. she retorts, but he knows she's blushing. She can feel his answering mental grin. 'Sides, Gambit, there's no point in it. Ah cain't touch, remember?
So? Dere's more t' life than touch, Rogue. Sucks that you can't, but 's not the end of the world.
Sure. she agrees heavily, and he can feel the tears in it. He gives her the mental impression of a frown.
Chere. Whole reason you were so- so- he'd be wheeling a free hand around in the air if he'd had one, but there's no need for him to spell it out- after y' absorbed me was 'cause I was more'n you bargained for, hein?
She doesn't argue; encouraged, he presses on.
Dere's a million ways t' keep people at arm's length, Rogue, an' snarlin's the least of 'em. You play it right, they don' even realize it 'less somebody starts nosin' round, askin' the right questions.
An' by then you're long gone, huh. she comments.
He can't think of a reply that won't set her off, so he says nothing at all.
She studies her face in the vanity and finishes up with a light lip gloss. As she takes the applicator away, there's a perfunctory knock on the door. "Hey, Rogue, have you seen my-" Kitty sticks her head through the wall and stops, meeting the older girl's eyes in the mirror.
Rogue looks back, somewhat nervous; Remy looks on, amused.
With a perfectly level face, Shadowcat phases the rest of the way into the room, takes a few steps-
- and her face splits into a grin of unholy glee as she flings herself onto the other mutant with a squeal.
Rogue instinctively shrinks away, but the vanity presses into her back and she goes through it when Kitty makes contact. The velocity of the tackle is such that they should by all rights go through the wall into the next room, but Kitty expertly swirls them back out again and into open space.
Rogue takes the opportunity to try to jerk away- You're not helpin'- she hisses to the Remy chortling in her head- but Kitty's like a bulldog. She keeps a firm grip on Rogue and flings herself at the wall, phasing them both through it. Flashbacks of driving with the merrily fearless teenager paralyze Rogue into compliance as Shadowcat drags her through the walls of the mansion until they reach the far end of the hall.
"Jean!" Kitty shrieks.
The redhead pelts out of her room looking alarmed; the expression doesn't ease when she sees the younger girls.
"Mall! Now!" Kitty barks.
Amara's door flings open. "Mall?"
"NO!" Rogue yells in a panic.
Remy's chortles have morphed into a full- blown belly laugh.
-X-
Some three hours later, the laugh has completely disappeared.
Rogue bolts for her room the instant Jean's SUV comes to a stop in the garage; the girls are too satisfied with the day's shopping to try to stop her, and the boys who see her go tearing through the mansion aren't fool enough to get in her way.
She makes it interference- free, but shuts and locks the door anyway. Rogue rests her back against it and allows herself a long, pained sigh.
M- Mon Dieu! Remy finally comments, sounding shell shocked.
Ah tole you so! Rogue snarls, tossing her bags on her bed and pushing herself off the door to join them.
Sorry, chere. She snorts; he actually sounds sincere. Didn' know what I was gettin' us into.
Like hell you didn't. she retorts testily. Don't think Ah didn' hear you when we went in Victoria's Secret!
Hee. Yeah. Gotta admit, dat mighta made th' whole t'ing worthwhile.
Had he been in his own body, she'd have been forced to slap him; as it is, Rogue is hard pressed to stifle her grin.
He drives her crazy half the time, but there is no denying Remy LeBeau is spending his formless existence in her head trying to help her. And Lord help them both, he's by and large succeeding.
Rogue smiles.