Here it is the next instalment… as promised – delivered
Disclaimer…disclaiming…
Here it is the next instalment… as promised – signed sealed and delivered. I'm actually rather proud of this one…
"Till everything feels like the movies, and you bleed just to know you're alive…"
Iris, Goo Goo dolls
(If ever there was a song for Rogue and Remy…)
Fade
Chapter 10
Better than yourself…
Fade sat between Betsy and Pete, eyes flickering between her team mates and only half an ear on Scott's post-danger-room-session-tips speech.
Betsy appeared to be enthralled with Cyke's assessment of her performance, her purple-blue eyes riveted on his movements, with the occasional nod now and then. Fade, however, knew her to be an expert in the field of texting without looking, and was also aware of a certain winged boyfriend used to hearing from the purple- haired siren at least twice every day.
Curious, Fade let the thought bleed through her shields and Psylocke smiled and sent an almost imperceptible wink her way.
Neither Pete nor Emma – who sat next to an empty chair on the left of Gambit, the wolverine being absent – bothered pretending to be the slightest interested in Scott's speech. Emma sat inspecting her perfect nails and Pete was more then content to sit and whisper innuendos to Kitty, who sat in the middle of them and was becoming more then slightly embarrassed at the progress of her boyfriends hand up her leg.
Beside Betsy was Kurt (who seemed to be asleep sitting up), then Storm, her clear, deep azure gaze more than a little zoned out, another empty chair – Sean's – Jean, who was clearly listening with rapt attention, hair a fiery waterfall down her back, Scott and then, directly across from Fade, Remy.
Fade was then struck buy the deceiving nature of appearances. Gambit sloped in his chair with an easy grace; feet crossed at the ankle and propped up on the table in the middle – feet that Scott occasionally sent a disgusted look as though they'd offended him.
The deft, skilled hands moved with the lightning speed and ease of one who'd shuffled cards his whole life. In all, Remy Lebeau looked the picture of ease and contentment.
No one could know the agonised mess his mind was.
Not even she really, although she could creep around the recesses of an alien mind as easily as if it were her own.
But although her two natural born telepathic friends had suggested it on more than one occasion, she'd refused them – and herself - allowance to his mind.
She didn't want to ask herself why.
For almost a week after the night of Sean's arrival, she'd tried to talk to him, but Gambit had been distant, stubborn and short with her. And she'd pushed, pushed boundaries and lines that should never be crossed, done her best to anger him, to hurt him, just for some manner of reaction…
And at last the anger and the hatred and all the emotions that coiled inside and lurked between them violently ripped their way out in a magnificent row that sent her running to Sean's arms and him to the nearest bar – only to be retrieved by Jean before he could do some unforgivable damage.
He said horrible things, she did them. And at last they reached the point of no return, passed it, and neither could work up the nerve to speak to the other since.
The part of her that was Rogue did not believe the suddenly vital long term mission that the professor called for Sean and Logan would have been quite so urgent if they hadn't been out for Remy's blood.
Or that Jean's volunteering to rescue Fade's wayward lover had been entirely innocent.
A thought that had been reinforced when she looked for him to apologise, and found the two entranced in a cosy little interlude in the garden.
Rogue's anger had burnt when she heard Jean's words:
She's not right for you…She'd whispered, She never has been, how could someone like that be…?
Not that it bothered her now - not now she realised Jean was probably right…
Nothing bothered her now.
Fade came back to earth with an unpleasant bump, only to find him watching her, deft hands never ceasing or faltering for a moment, piercing eyes penetrating her own.
As Fade watched, the cards began to flicker with light, and he manipulated one through his fingers, like a coin. Back, forth, charged, uncharged…
Rogue allowed herself the cruel twist of the lips, saw his eyes narrow in response.
Mentally, she filtered through the psyches till she found the one she wanted, adopting the power, she let herself change.
Black swam across the whites of her eyes like ink in water, staining them jet, even whilst the vibrancy of her emerald iris bled till they shone crimson…
…And Remy found himself gazing into his own eyes…
Shock filtered into his face, filtering through the contours as Fade's gaze returned to normal. The card dancing between his digits slipped, still charged, floating with the momentum of speed from it prior movement.
For one moment everyone stared with shock at Gambit, who hadn't unintentionally dropped a card since the age of six. Then, in unison, all heads turned to the glowing, whistling card that had come to land in front of Fade.
Queen of Hearts, she noted, and could have laughed at the irony.
It was a relatively small explosion, enough to send Pete diving atop Kitty by manner of protection, Betsy flying to the floor and everyone else covering their eyes and faces, misinterpreting the power of the card.
Except Fade, who had anticipated Gambit's mistake, and who's chosen Psyche's magnetic shield was a protection against her skin.
Too late she wished she hadn't bothered. Wished she'd let the fire sear her skin, burn her flesh, just as a break from the numbness, just so she could feel…something…anything…
Remy didn't move either, knowing she'd have prepared herself, knowing the charge wasn't that extreme, knowing he was too far away to receive any pain – knowing she was.
For a moment after the explosion cleared, there was just the two of them, string with narrow gazes across the war room table. Red eyes aflame and burning into green so cool they were dead.
Before Gambit could be berated for his carelessness, however, the thick metal door to the war room slid aside and Jubilee rushed inside.
"You gotta check out the news guys!" She gushed, charcoal hair streaming behind her as seized the remote, oval coal eyes wide.
The scene on the T.V. didn't consist of much, screaming and running, the jerking camera catching mere glimpses of actual activity, and a lot of the park grass. The one consistent factor however, was the darting blue light that occasionally zoomed past the camera lens.
"Wait." Storm's voice rang out clear in the deathly silence, as everyone came to pretty much the same conclusion, "Rewind and pause it Jubilee… no, further than that…again…there."
The fuzzy camera image depicted a human shape – more of a red blur than anything else. Blue light protruding from hands stretched above the figure's head.
"Enhance that image."
Scott took the remote from Jubilee and zoomed into the girls face, then cleared it. The jet black, red – tipped hair and piercing blue eyes could belong to only one person.
"Wanda." Fade said quietly.
"So what?" Snapped the voice of Emma frost whilst Pete helped Kitty to her feet and Jubilee gave them a puzzled look, as if only just realising half the X-men were cowering on the floor. "The Brotherhood decided to cause a stir and scare a couple of normals -,"
"Urgh!" came Betsy's long suffering sigh from Fade's right. "You're doin' my head in Queenie, if you miss Sean so much – go call him!"
"It ain'." Spoke Fade, cutting across Emma's spiteful retort, her eyes glued to the image before her. "It ain' the brotherhood."
There was a moment of puzzled silence, where everyone just gazed at her – and Betsy and Emma's ongoing quarrel was momentarily forgotten.
"Fade." Jean said gently, and expression of pretty confusion across her face – and Remy thought there was no sound as musical as her voice. "That's the Scarlett Witch-,"
"Ah know that Jean!" Fade snapped, repenting at Jean's taken aback look, she winced. "Sorrah…its jus'…ya know…"
There was an awkward moment where everyone pretended they weren't staring at Remy, and as the vibrant green eyes flashed to him he knew the reason for her mood. He realised he'd projected his earlier thoughts…
…realised she'd heard them.
She breathed deeply. "It can' be the Brotherhood."
"Run through the tape again. Where the others? Where's Pietro?"
Kurt frowned, "Pietro?"
"Yeah. Look Ah know every one o' those guys. Ah knew them afore Ah knew mahself. You don' see Pietro on tha' tape – he ain' there."
"Maybe the cameraman was focussed on the mutant doing the most…"
Scott's suggestion faded with the shake of Fade's glossy head.
"Wanda hates publicity, the attention. She usually makes sure they don' focus on 'er. Besides that, ya'd still see 'im."
"Err…why?" Pete crossed his arms.
Fade sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Pietro loves 'is sister – more than 'imself at times, despite what he says or does. An' when they're in battle or whatever, he nevah goes far from 'er – not 'f he can help't. He eliminates any real threat before't reaches 'er. Those years he had 't live without her nearly killed him."
Another shocked silence while all the others tried to digest this interesting piece of news about someone who had, to them seemed so cold and arrogant.
"So, vhat are ve dealing vith? An AWOL witch?"
"Ah dunno Kurt. Ah never though' it'd be Wanda style…" Green eyes were back on the screens, "All Ah'm sayin' is – defiantly not Brotherhood."
"Right," Cyke in take over mode. "Let's get the jet ready and head out before anyone gets seriously hurt."
XxxxxX
After everyone else had left, Fade was back in the War Room, replaying the tape for the hundredth time.
"Come on Wanda." She breathed at the screen, annoyed she still hadn't pinpointed what bothered her about the image. "Give me somethin'…"
"I'm pretty sure she can't hear you."
The alien feeling of fright ripped through Fade's body, and she jumped round to see Scott, clutching her chest.
"Whoa!" he said, half chuckling, half worried, moving toward her with his arms outstretched to aid her in steadying herself. "Didn't realise I was that much of a shock."
A smile – genuine smile – filtered across her face for the first time in weeks. "Nah, jus'…hasn' happened ta meh in a while."
Scott's hands were still on her shoulders and she gazed up, wishing she could see his eyes.
"You're still the same you know." He husked, and her eyelashes fluttered closed, just for a second, just to savour the sound of his voice, before opening again, "You've tried so hard to put distance between now and then, but sometimes I see her – that girl I met – shining out of you."
His fingers moved seemingly without his notice, fingertips tracing little circles across the skin of her upper arms that was exposed by her uniform.
"Ah don' hate everythan' from those days." She whispered, and Scott leaned forward, and she knew he was about to kiss her.
Until a loud bang erupted by the door and ripped through their reverie, and they jerked away from each other guiltily to see Gambit, recoiling like a cat to lean casually against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. Eyes blazing, he cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, a sardonic smile that didn't reach his eyes across his devilish features.
"So sorry," He apologised unconvincingly, eyes narrowed and inclining his head toward the wastepaper basket he had just violently kicked across the room, paper everywhere and a massive dent in it's side, "Mon coordination jus' don' seem up t' scratch t'day."
"No, no!" Scott flushed as red as the Quartz lenses he wore, "We were just talking."
Remy's features slacked until his mouth formed a grim line, and he bit out the words, "Looked cosy."
Rogue pulled a disgusted, unimpressed look at her wayward lover as Scott bent to pick up the basket.
He just stared back, careful to let her see the anger – and only the anger – in his.
She turned with an exaggerated, long suffering sigh and a roll of her eyes, to glance at the screen – and did a double take.
"Wha's that?"
Scott was by her side in an instant, so intent on the screen it was like he was trying to prove to Gambit that the situation had been innocent.
The deep, dark silhouette Fade traced with her finger was just behind Wanda. A man, too tall to be a bystander – too dark and still to be any of the brotherhood.
A memory – not her own, stirred in the depths of her mind. A memory of a psyche she had not absorbed in years, it was faded, and the memory so painful the psyche had tried to block it out, forget about him…
Later, she would understand the compulsion to turn to Remy, years afterward; she would understand to urge to hide from this mutant, to fear him…
Remy still stood by the door, uninterested in the image on the screen, uncaring of what she saw. His only interest being the fact that Scott stood far to close to Fade, that he should move him…
When she turned to look at him, renewed anger surged between them, her thinking of what could of happened without him there – he, that she could be so cruel and deceitful and sell so much of herself for something that could surely never last.
"Another mutant?" she was brought back by Scott's words, turned away from him, just like she always would. "What's he doing there?"
"Um…" Rogue struggled to stay focussed on the image, shaking her head to clear it of the fuzzy memory, "I think," she hesitated, "I think he might be possessing her."
She could feel both pairs of eyes on her, she went on.
"Look at her face - her eyes, they're so blank, so empty. Wanda uses anger to access her power and that…doesn't even look like her…"
Scott nodded, "I'll brief the team, then we'll have to go, we've wasted so much time already." He placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers moulding naturally to the curve. "Well done Fade."
Rogue beamed at him, aware of the almost imperceptibly narrowed eyes by the door. Eyes that followed his rival maliciously as he skirted round the figure and left through the door.
Eyes that then turned to her, murder in their depths.
Hands on her hips, she clicked her tongue and raised her perfectly sculptured eyebrows, waiting for him to speak.
He shook his head, "Coul' y' b' anymore obvious?"
She let out a frustrated breath and turned away from him to seize the brown trench coat that hung on the back of her chair. "I'm not talkin' 'bout this with you."
He pushed of the wall; fist slamming on the button that slid the door closed and locked it. "Well seems t' moi dat Bets an' Emma getting' lil sick o' hearin' bout 't. An' y' can' 'xactly talk t' Jean when't's her relationship y' tryin' to sabotage."
She paused in her action of pulling her arm into the sleeve of her coat. "Careful wha' ya accuse meh of – remember ya ain' any less guilty."
"Dis wasn't my idea – I didn' meticulously plan every detail an' manipulate everyone to fit de scheme-,"
"Ya were perfectly happy t' go along wit' it though. Perfectly happy so long as ya got wha' ya wan'ed! Now ya have ya ain' interested anymore – stuck up there on ya high horse while-"
"What are y' talkin' 'bout?"
He was close – too close – but she wasn't about to let him intimidate her. Angrily, she stuck her face so he was barely a hairsbreadth away, so close his warm breath played on her face.
"Ah'm talkin' bout ya an' Jean! Ah suppose Ah should congratulate ya – Ah nevah expected ya ta be as good at the game as ya obviously are! I didn' expect her ta give up so easy…but then again – ya've done this ya whole life haven't ya-,"
He snapped, anger radiating through his body: "Y' mad! Y've finally lost it – I don' even know what y' talkin' bout anymore - ,"
She hated it – wished he would just admit what he'd done – stop pretending…
..Stopped playing with her…
"The garden!" She cried. "After saintly Jean went and rescued you from sin! Or the day after, when she was trying so implicitly to warn you off of my character?"
Realisation dawned on his face, and then he did the worst imaginable thing to her.
He laughed.
At his stupidity, at hers. At the mistake that could ruin everything they had.
She fumed, eyes narrowed, and tried to storm past him, but he grabbed her arm, spun her to face him, and grasped her shoulders holding her in place.
His hands were in the exact position Scott's were earlier. The effect however, could not be more different.
Remy's hands seared away all memory of Scott's fingerprints, the heat like a caress, travelling far deeper than just skin.
Her eyes widened in shock, her startled gaze meshing with his, and he fancied he saw tears in their dark green depths, depths that swirled and changed a pale, silver sprinkled jade and he forgot what he was going to say – did not remember what was so urgent…
…But she did.
"Whay are ya allowed ya moment's with her an' Ah can' have jus' one with Scott?"
"Fade-,"
"An' whay do ya love her anyways? Wha' does she do ta hol' ya attention – whay don' Ah have it? Whay does she deserve everythin'?"
He fumed, and she must have seen the anger he could not explain because she fell silent. And suddenly he could not bear to look at her. Could not have her near him. He pushed her slightly, let go of her, and averted his eyes. He wished her not to speak – he could not hear her, could not see her…
Could not trust himself.
Anger ripped through him – anger at him, at her, at Scott, at Jean. "What about HIM!" He almost bellowed, pointing angrily at the spot Scott's back had vanished. "Wha' makes dat…weakling…wort' y'?"
It was not a question…but she replied anyway, feeling her face flush. "Scott is not weak…"
A bitter smile crossed the handsome face. "He couldn't handle y' Chere-,"
"At least he don' lie! At least he's above cheatin' an' stealin'! At least he's honest with meh! At least he ain' gonna mess meh aroun' an'-,"
"Y' talkin' like y' already won." He hissed, bitter anger raging through him making his voice low, hushed, deadly. "Wha' make y' t'ink he'll even wan' y'?"
She reeled back, shocked, a different emotion husking her voice. "What?"
He knew he should stop, but the words just spilled out before he could stop them.
"Y' so fake – so plastic. I coul' see't even before I spoke t' y'. Y've worn dat mask so long y' forgot who y' were beneat''t. Dat girl – Rogue, she escapes sometime, but barely. I didn' understan' at firs', but now I do. Y' won' let Rogue ou' b'cause y' know she ain' what Scott wan's. He wan's Jean – so y' turned until y' as close t' her as y' can possibly get."
Halfway through his tirade he'd seen the flicker of pain in the huge, widened eyes, eyes that flashed with scattered silver dust almost imperceptibly. Taken on her wounded expression and he'd known – without any doubt - that he had said far, far too much. But he needed to strike her; needed to watch her hurt, needed to hit her with the same pain he had felt when he had seen her throwing herself at Scott Summers.
So the words had just kept coming. Words filled with emotions and realisations he hadn't even known he had…
…just like that day of their huge row. That day that had left him crumpled and saddened, unbelieving she'd let him get away with so many hurtful words and sure she'd never speak to him again…
Already he had seen her patience snap. Already her mask slipped across her face. Already he could see the anger boiling – a product of one hurtful word too many…
"At least," she hissed, taking a step forward, standing ready for attack. "At least, Ah'm doin' summin'. At least Ah jus' didn' sit aroun' hopin' lingerin' looks woul' beh enough ta-,"
Laughter again, cruel this time. "Who d'y' t'ink y' kiddin' Chere? Y' t'ink he can' see wha' y' are? Wha' y' doin'?"
Her furrowed brow was the only answer.
"He knows, Chere." The words were practically whispered, as he stepped forward, face inches from hers. "He know what y' doin'. An' lord he's tempted. Bu' he ain' stupid. Why give up gold for de glitter? He know dat inside y' are still de same, bitter, twisted, cold-hearted, untouchable, manipulative little bitch,"
Remy knew what he was doing. He could see the anger as it built in the flash of her eyes, her laboured breathing. But he wanted a reaction. Wanted punishment for his words. Wanted her to hit him…
…and he was not disappointed.
The flat of her hand came in contact with his face with alarming force, jerking his head to the side, the resulting crack reverberating round the room.
Anger he had never felt before rocked through him. Anger at everyone – anger at her for letting his words bite her, for not realising her self worth…
…Anger at himself for letting himself be drawn in, for falling for this whole charade…
…for falling for her.
He seized her shoulders, touch far from gentle now, eyes burning with malicious fire. He wanted to shake her, to shake all thoughts of Cyclops from her mind, even if only to fill them with his own…
In the next instant he was on the floor, pain burning all across the right side of his face, Pete Wisdom standing over him, fists clenched, eyes narrowed so far it was hard to see the fire burning in their pupils.
"Don't you ever," he hissed, shaking Fade from his arm, pushing her back in a manner of protection, "ever, hit her-,"
Fade was relentless, tugged on his arm. "Pete, even if he did it woul' beh mah fault. Bu' he wouldn', never, ever do that to meh-,"
Remy flipped onto his feet, "What 'f I did?!" Remy hissed, needing to vent his anger on someone, on something. " You t'ink y' got a chance in hell…?"
"Stop it both 'a ya!" Fade roared. "Pete – he woul' never an' even if he did Ah don' need ya ta protect meh. Remy-," She cast him a disgusted look, hatred in her gaze, before turning back to Pete. "C'mon, Wanda needs our help."
Still fuming, Pete allowed himself to be lead from the room, leaving Remy alone.
Almost.
"Remy?" Jean stepped from the shadow, smooth hair and liquid eyes on his, hands outstretched in front of her, hands outstretched to him.
"Jean." He turned, suspicion blazing within the burning eyes, "how long y' been dere?"
Confusion littered the ocean eyes. Funny how her eyes were that colour, not really green, not really blue, a bizarre mix of both.
Rogue's eyes were clear. Clear and crisp green scattered with silver dust.
Strange too, how every emotion that crossed her face made her stunningly pretty. A frown marred his satanic features, surely that must have taken practice…?
"I came in with Pete." She reached fro him, fire sliding silkily across her shoulders. "What's wrong?" a hand on his shoulder, a glint on the now dark eyes.
"Please," she breathed, her voice like gentle rain, the kind you get in autumn, "Please talk to me, let me help you-,"
Without thinking of implications, consequences, hypocrisies, he spun and seized her, sweeping her up and crushing her to his chest in a burning, searing kiss that lasted an instant and rocked her to her core.
An outlet, he realised, an outlet for all the anger Rogue had stirred, which meant that he was using her…
He was using Jean.
He let go abruptly, and she faltered, standing in front of him, eyes wide, slender fingertips touched to full lips swollen from his kiss, chest heaving with escaped breath.
"What?" The word came out ragged, barely coherent as diluted eyes searched his empty face, "What are you-,"
Remy clenched his fists, need rampaging through him, the taste of her still in his mouth. The, with one parting glance and no explanation, he turned and stalked from the room.
Leaving Jean standing baffled and aware of all her senses.
XxxxxX
Well there ya go, there is more to this, but I'm tired and decided to cut the one chappie into two!
If you enjoyed it leave a review!