Author's Note: I've never really liked that Rogue so often, in any incarnation but especially the comics, learns one of Remy's secrets and then proceeds to push him away, calls quits on their relationship. This Rogue – my Rogue – is a woman who's been through hell and come out the other side. She's learnt some limited measure of control over her mutation. She's learnt the difference between loving someone, and being in love with someone. Yes, she has her insecurities, but I'd like to think that this Rogue is enough of an adult that, fiery temper aside, she'll deal with her relationship, and Remy's secrets, as an adult. Not a whiny-weepy-I'm-gonna-abandon-you-in-Antarctica-to-die way. ::coughs::
So, yes, 'Remy's married' is my first attempt to deal with a secret in a reasonable manner. Damaged as they both are, Remy and Marie are both intelligent, passionate people. I can only hope I do them justice.
If I owned anything of Marvel, the aforementioned Antarctica debacle so wouldn't have gone down like that. ::sniffs::
Rogue stares uncertainly at the door. Making the decision to come here and apologize was agonizing enough. She had been harsh, and perhaps she could have at least listened to his reasons for her not accompanying him on this trip.
She snorts.
Yeah, right. Like he actually had reasons. Still, the public spectacle of their argument yesterday hadn't been planned, and, she's willing to admit, hadn't been wise. Hence apologizing.
Knocking is strange, she decides. After months of using his own skills to break into his room when he isn't around to swipe his clothing, the idea of asking permission to enter the room is. . . odd. She's almost certain the increasingly complicated locks he keeps installing are his version of a challenge, not an actual deterrent. After all, if he didn't want her in his room, he could always tell her to stop breaking in.
As she stands in front of the plain, wooden, guest room door, she can't quite bring herself to knock. She hasn't been in his room while he's in it since before their relationship – before the summer, and Sinister, and all the radical changes three months had wrought. He came to her room – and not even that, not really. He came to her room while she was out and waited on her roof. Or he came to her window when she was in, and invited her to the roof, or the grounds or. . .
She frowns, not noticing the pattern before now. They hadn't been alone in a bedroom – his or hers – since. . . well, since.
Enough digressing.
Straightening slender shoulders, she raises a gloved hand to knock on the door. It opens before her knuckles touch wood. It's a close call to decide who's more surprised. Rogue recovers first.
"Rems, I. . . can I come in?" She chooses to believe the flicker of indecision on his features is purely her imagination.
He does step away from the doorway though, widening the door to let her through before closing it when she steps into the room. She doesn't have time to wonder why he stares at the closed door with such tension before she sees the suitcase on the bed.
Bastard. He was already packing. Rehearsed apologies flee in the wake of her rising anger. When she turns to look at him, he has the audacity to be smiling, leaning against the closed door.
"C'est pour toi, chere." He shakes his head, almost laughing at some internal memory. "Someone wise told me t'give in an' give you a present besides. Decided t'listen."
Anger leaches away quicker than it appeared. Unsure of herself, she approaches the bed, caressing the dark green leather. A matching garment bag lay beside it.
"You're not angry at my going with y'all anymore?"
He still hasn't moved from the door, but he answers in good enough humor.
"Still don't t'ink you should, but rather have you wit' me than trailing behind." A pause, and he sighs. "Shoulda told you 'was married a long time ago."
Rogue sits on his bed, tucking her hands under her thighs. Her lip twitches at his admission and she shakes her head.
"I coulda asked." She bites her lip, "At least asked what happened to the marriage any road."
When his eyes widen in surprise, Rogue decides he's adorable when she manages to take him off guard.
"You knew? How long?"
"Got some images of the ceremony the first time y'touched me. Long before. . ." She gestures between them. "'Fore we started any o'this. Picked up some pieces since then."
"M'first time in th' Danger Room. Th'explosion." Rogue's turn to be surprised.
"Y'remember?"
Most people wouldn't have – hell, had she been any other girl, it wouldn't be anything to remember. He'd shielded her from an explosion, tucking her head against his chest, hunched so that his cheek rested against her forehead. The Cure'd been fading fast and she hadn't nearly the level of focus she could maintain now to choose her mutation's intensity. She'd been so surprised when he didn't flinch from her bare skin, she didn't even try, at first. A lot of images, thoughts, came through while she recovered from that surprise. Later, the nightmares came.
"Y'managed t'take down the funny lookin' robot wit' bot' my and Logan's powers. Hard t'forget." His eyes narrow at her, and she can see the question coming before he asks. "Thought you were mad 'cause of that. For not tellin' ya. What are you angry about?"
"You should've told me." But she shakes her head, that's not important now. "Not so much angry as worried."
He doesn't say anything, she stares at her feet before continuing.
"She's an assassin, Rem. How long've you been waitin for her to agree t'this? And now the papers come, with a three day pass on th'exile, no less. Ain't the timin' a little convenient?" Now that, for the first time since the wedding, he's in an actual relationship that might go somewhere. But she can't bring herself to say that part, not out loud. "Don' feel right, like y'all're walkin into a trap. An you were gonna do it without me."
"Preciate the support, chere, but I can handle anything the guilds throw at me. Been doin' it a long time." There's no male defensiveness in his tone, no hint of pricked pride, just a gentle statement of fact. "We done bein' angry now?"
Mute, she nods. Wishes he wasn't so far away, standing against the door while she sits on his bed. Wishes he was close enough to take comfort in his presence, feel the end of their argument, unable to make herself go to him. Silence looms for long minutes before she voices the other concern.
"She's beautiful."
A startled oath and his long legs have him kneeling before her in seconds. Taking her hands in his own, he forces her to meet his dark gaze.
"Ain't playin that game, Marie." A kiss to her knuckles before he continues. "Love you, an' you know it. Endin' that marriage 'cause it never really was, but ain't runnin out on ya."
"Well," Rogue flips her hair, trying for flippant and knowing she falls short. "A girl needs t'hear these things when a long lost wife comes out of the woodwork."
He chuckles low in his throat, letting her hands loose, resting his own on her thighs.
"I'll keep that in mind for next time."
"Next time?" She arcs a disapproving eyebrow at his lopsided grin. "I feel you should know, Remy Lebeau, mama didn't raise no polygamist."
"Suits me fine, chere." He leans upwards, face very close to her own, gaze fixed on her lips. Rogue can feel her breath hitch. "I never was good at sharin'."
The kiss is deep and feels like a promise. His lips on hers silence the tiny, bitter voice in the back of her mind that had been teasing her with questions and images of the blonde with a supermodel's body. She tangles fingers in his hair, cupping the back of his neck. Glad to be through with their fight, to feel his love for her through contact with his skin. His hands moving from her thighs to her hips are the end of angry words and hard feelings.
He breaks from the kiss, wearing a smile that doesn't disguise tension. She can see the effort it costs him to remove his hands from her, place them flat on the bed on either side of her instead, but doesn't understand the why.
"You, wicked girl, need t'no'be in m'room. No'on my bed." He ghosts a kiss on her forehead, the action much more gentle than the edge in his voice. "You've packing t'do. Long trip ahead've us, non?"
