Guilt had no place in Remy's life. He lied, he cheated, he used other to further his own ends, he was a womanizer, and he stole. He'd lost count of all the sins he'd committed, all the wrong he'd done. Then why did this girl he'd drugged, tied up, and was hauling back to New Orleans to use make him feel guilty?
He pulled off his duster and draped it over her body; the last thing he wanted was for her to catch a cold because of him. He leaned against the boxcar door and watched her. She looked so innocent, but he knew she wasn't. She'd seen a lot, been used more than once and by people she though she could trust, and because of her abilities she had picked up the memories of many a bad guy. Whatever shred of innocence her childhood might have held had long since been forgotten in the cruelty of her mutation.
Shaking his head to clear out his deep train of thought, he turned his attention to the passing countryside and forced his mind to turn down the colder path of how he was going to play her to get what he needed from her. However, his mind slowly turned back to Rogue, who was still in her drug-induced slumber.
He had looked her up upon his return from Egypt after Magneto's death. He'd been there when she'd pushed Mystique's statue off the cliff. To say he'd been shocked would be an understatement. He'd been absolutely stunned to see that the girl who could wipe the floor with nearly any mutant she met had turned into a murderess. For a moment he had felt nothing but disgust for her, her actions reminding him of Belladonna.
But for some inexplicable reason, he kept coming back and he kept watching her. Slowly, but surely, he realized that he'd been wrong. She wasn't a murderess, she never had been. He saw the way she pulled away from the others, the way that she sat or walked, the guilt in her eyes when she looked at her brother. Everything about her screamed, I'm hurting, Help me.
If he had really tried justifying himself, he'd say that he was rescuing her from a path that was only leading to self-destruction. And, to his surprise, he found himself justifying his actions quite often. He sighed and closed his eyes. He had thought about her a lot in Egypt, about how she would seem so at home here. And, oddly enough, he had felt at home there too and he'd almost been as comfortable there as his home city of New Orleans.
He heard her soft groan as she clawed her way back to consciousness and he steeled himself for the task ahead.
"I've been watchin' you for weeks Rogue," he began and turned to her," You're such an unhappy girl."
He watched as her face took on an angry expression and she leaped for him, not quite alert enough to be aware of the ropes tying her wrists and ankles. She landed with a hard thud and twisted around to look at him.
"Is it any wonder? What do you want with me?" she asked, her body language screaming frustration and exhaustion.
"I don't want anything," he began. Liar, his conscience muttered, but he ignored it and continued," It's what you want. I'm just openin' the door for ya."
"A door to what?" she asked, looking slightly suspicious.
He stepped forward and knelt to help her sit in a more comfortable position before answering. "Freedom," he said," a chance to just walk away. I know from experience that the first step is always the hardest, so I'm just givin' you a little push."
"Untie me," she demanded and tried ripping the ropes from her limbs herself.
"I will, I will," he replied, holding out his hands in a placating manner," Once you realize I'm doin' you a favor."
Whatever you say, his consciousness muttered, whatever you say.
Rogue curled up in her seat in the Blackbird and closed her eyes, effectively ending Logan's tirade for the time being. She felt a three-fingered hand give her knee a quick and affectionate squeeze and she couldn't help but smile in acknowledgement. It was over, she could tell, all the animosity and anger had dissipated with her brother and she felt whole for the fist time in a long time.
She sighed and let her mind run back over the events of the last 24 hours. She wanted to stay mad at Remy, but that was quickly proving to be impossible. Yes, he had kidnapped her with the intent of using her and yes he had lied to her. But hadn't he had a good reason? Hadn't it been so he could rescue his father who, from the memories she picked up from him, didn't even deserve it? If she felt bad about killing Mystique before, the she felt even worse now.
But at the same time, she had seen a small tidal wave of his memories and some of them made her pause. He had been watching her for a long time, just as he'd said. She felt his disgust for her when she shoved Mystique's statue off the cliff. She cringed slightly as the shame washed over her again, she was still disgusted with herself and she knew that his was justified.
She was shocked when she sensed his thoughts change from disgust to pity to worry about her and how she was doing. Why did he even care? He wasn't an X-Man, he wasn't exactly a friend, though she didn't count him as an enemy, and they certainly weren't an item. So why did he seem to be so attracted to her? And more importantly, why did she feel so attracted to him?
It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, he was and she was definitely attracted to him in the physical sense. She knew he wasn't the only one, she grimaced as some very private memories and thoughts flickered through her mind, and he'd definitely made use of that fact. But still when it came to his thoughts about her it was different somehow. She heard how he'd try to justify her kidnapping to himself, how bit by bit he was starting to try to convince himself that it wasn't the reason he was taking her to New Orleans rather than it was.
She shook her head as his memories and psyche slowly faded into the murmuring mass of those that resided in her head. She didn't know why, but he seemed to feel almost differently about her. Well at least to a point, she thought and blushed as some of his perverted thoughts concerning her body flickered through her mind along with the feeling that he had seen her body before. Which was impossible. But still, she sensed that he felt differently about her for some reason. He just couldn't put his finger on why. Just like she couldn't figure out why he seemed so familiar to her.
She sighed and started to drift off.
Trouble dodges your steps, and will for the rest of your life. But all will not be as horrible as it might seem. A young man waits for you, one who has been searching for you his whole life without realizing it. He will not care about your mutation, as he can look past it to the girl underneath. You will also find a family that is as diverse as it possibly can be, and will dare to say that they are your home. With their love and support and the prince who will come, you can face whatever Osiris throws at you both. I swear it.
She furrowed her brow in concentration. That voice sounded so familiar. Yet as she checked through her collection of people she'd absorbed, she found that she didn't have a match for it. It could have been someone she'd had a conversation with in some random place like the bookstore or coffee shop, but somehow she didn't think so. It was a voice that came from the back of her mind, a voice that seemed to echo from the past, her past. She sighed again and let herself drift off, while the back of her mind tried to put a face to the familiar voice in her memory.
Remy wasn't sure why he was following his father back through the bayou into only God knew what. Unless he was a masochist, then this all would make perfect sense. But last time he checked he was still sane, so he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
You loved a princess, now you will be a prince, a Prince of Thieves. You will end up having no place to go, but will find a place to call home and a group of your own to call family. And in the end, you will find what you died for all those years ago, she who was the last thought on your mind. The road will neither be easy nor short, but you will find Amunet, and then you will be whole once more. I promise it.
He shook his head to clear off the strangely familiar voice. It was a voice he'd heard many times in his childhood, but as he grew older it slowly faded away. The practical side of his mind tried to pass it off as his imagination, but somehow, deep in his soul, he knew better.
He thought about what the voice had said. He did feel whole when he was around her, and he remembered the day of the fight when he felt as though he had found his destiny. Had he? Had he finally found his cliqued other half. A smile played on the corner of his lips as he pondered that idea. Yes, if she was truly his destiny, then he would not complain. He followed Jean-Luc I silence, mind always on the rogue girl he'd left behind.
