IMPORTANT NOTE THAT EVERYONE SHOULD READ: go to my profile and please vote on the poll I made. It's a poll asking which chapter story you would like to see me do next. There are three options, one of which is the third and final story in the Knee High Socks series (which wasn't supposed to be a series when I first started it) called Thigh High Boots.
Remember when I told you to remember that a few chapter back?
Anyway, three options. Go vote so I can write what you wanna read.
Moving on….
This is the second to last chapter! I can't believe it's here.
Brsk: thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I'm so glad that you caught up with me finally. Also. Your Button Down Shirt idea is so awesome I'm totally gonna write it as one-shot mini-sequel.
xLeBeaux: so glad you enjoyed it.
sparky: thank, buddy.
lina: I'm glad you thought the chapter was good.
Thank you everyone who's been reading and reviewing. I'm glad you like it and I hope you enjoy these last couple of chapters.
XXXXX
"I am so confused."
"Completely understandable. But, I do have some questions for you—"
"I have some questions myself."
"One's I'll be happy to answer if you would just—"
"Where's Rogue? Is she okay? I haven't seen her since I woke up."
"Remy, you slept for almost a week. She stayed beside you almost the whole time. After she finished being treated of course."
"…treated for what? How hurt is she?"
"It's not too bad, Remy. But she was real beat up. A broken rib. A broken arm. Sliced open more times than I could count. Ugliest shiner I've ever seen on a woman. She took a bad beating but she's okay. But your X-Men called some fellow in who's a healer. Made the broken arm a fracture and the broken rib bruised."
"So…she's okay?"
He nodded. "She will be. Your girl is a trooper."
Remy lifted his chin with pride. "Course she is. I coulda told you that. "
The men exchanged small smiles.
"What's wrong wit' me?" Remy asked after a pause. "I mean, I know I feel like hell two times over. But what exactly is my problem?"
"Whatever Nathaniel Essex pumped into you, your body didn't take to it very well. You've spent the last several days with a fever of sorts as it worked its way outta your system. Not to mention you were pretty banged up too. And concussed. And in need of a haircut." Mick scratched his thin thoughtfully. "But we didn't fix that one. That's on you."
"Am I gonna be okay?"
"From what Dr. McCoy told me, you should be fine. You and Rogue both will have to take it easy for awhile but you'll be back to yourself in no time. Now. I really need to ask you about the events that—"
"Does that mean no more rough sex?"
"Uhh…no. Not for awhile."
"Merde."
Mick cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Now, about what happened. I need you to tell me—"
"What happened to the others?"
"The others?"
"Essex and his flunkies. There was a fire and everyone was unconscious. 'Cept for Essex but I think Lorna did somethin' 'bout that…." Remy frowned. "What happened wit' Lorna and him anyway?"
"According to Miss Dane, she left Essex unconscious and bound to the floor while the fire raged. She left and did not look back. When the X-Men and myself arrived to pull the survivors from the fire, we were able to locate and save all but Essex and the one they called Hairball. After the fire was out, we returned. We found a deceased Hairball but Essex was nowhere to be found."
"No body? No…nothin'?"
"Nothing. But we can't find a place where he could have escaped from. And the fire was an ugly one. How he could have survived, we can't figure out. But where he is…."
"You don' know that either, eh?"
"No."
"How's Lorna?"
"She seems…fine."
"Fine," Remy repeated slowly. Skeptically.
"She isn't really talking about much. Been keeping to herself."
"Is she in trouble? For…ya know."
"No." Mick's eyes darted around the room nervously. Remy noted how he refused to make eye contact. "I uh…I made sure of that."
"You're a good friend, Mick."
"Friend?"
"Best friend."
"About that Remy—"
"I don' got a lotta friends in the world. I mean, I got the X-Men but they're like family. But friends? My best friend is this pyromaniac. Kinda nutty but in an endearin' way, you know?"
"I do not know."
Remy chuckled. "You're funny, Mick. I love keepin' you 'round."
"Remy, I am a federal agent. Friendships with people I once arrested isn't exactly…prudent. Maintaining friendships in general is actually quite difficult. I say this because—"
"'Cause you want me to know how much effort your puttin' into a friendship. You want me to appreciate it. Let me know how much I mean to you. Trust me, Mick, ol' friend, I know."
"Remy, that's not—"
"I know we met under strange circumstances—"
"You beheaded the Statue of Liberty," he interrupted dryly.
"—but it means a whole lot that you put up wit' me and my quirks."
"Quirks?"
"You're a good friend, Mick."
The agent sighed, shaking his head in defeat. But he did muster a small smile for the Cajun that so insistently wanted to be his friend.
"You too, Remy." He straightened his shoulders, his posture and expression serious once more. "Now. I do have some questions about what happened while you were being held with Essex."
"Can I ask one more question, sil vous plait?"
"What is it Remy?"
"Whatever happened to my motorcycle?"
XXXXX
Remy felt awful.
Not just because he had a concussion. Not just because his body felt like it had been run over by a steam roller. Not just because he still felt kind of queasy. Not just because he probably should have listened to Hank and remained in bed, rather than sneaking out.
Remy LeBeau hadn't seen his girlfriend since he woke up. He hope that while Mick was interviewing him, Rogue would walk back in and they could have a joyous, non-rough-sex-filled reunion. But the girl with the streaks in her hair had remained missing.
He had a few questions for her, too.
Like…where did they stand as a couple? He wasn't sure. Hadn't been sure for quite some time, since Rogue had been acting so strangely for the past several weeks. Then he gave her the gloves but never had a chance to really discuss them. Nor did they have a chance for Rogue to show her gratitude for her long black gloves in a possibly rough sex filled manner.
That really sucked.
And since he was thinking of sex (as usual), Remy recalled his tryst with Rogue in Essex's holding cell. He didn't know what was going on in her head—the telepathic link they shared apparently wasn't that helpful—but he felt like there was a shift. Something in regards t how she felt about him changed. Grew. Shrank maybe. He wasn't sure.
Then there was the way, after having her arm broken like a mint flavored toothpick, she stood up in front of him. Not only to protect him, but to fight beside him.
That had to have been a good sign. Right?
Remy didn't know. But he wanted to know.
Now if only he could find his fractured girlfriend. …
This was his finale thought before a bruised but slender hand reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He was then promptly yanked into a closet, the door closed and locked behind him.
Heh. Well.
This was a change of pace.
XXXXX
"I heard a rumor you were looking to talk to me."
Bobby dropped the controller in his hand. There weren't a whole lot of people or things in the world to stop Robert Drake in the middle of a game of Call Of Duty, but when he heard Lorna Dane's soft voice beckoning him from the doorway, he forgot his game.
He would forget a million games of Call Of Duty if it meant he had Lorna's attention.
She was standing in his doorway, wearing a long sleeved red blouse and dark pants. It was weird, how she didn't look bad in red, what with her having green hair and all. But aside from her outfit, he was fascinated with the odd look in her eyes. The way she was staring at him, like she had come to some sort of decision involving him, but wasn't sure how to go about telling him.
Which didn't seem like a good thing.
Bobby turned off his game counsel without saving his progress (a move he instantly regretted) and stood up straight. Then he remembered he was in a t-shirt and boxers, not exactly his most attractive look. He frantically searched his floor for a pair of pants but found none.
"Uhh," he grunted, ducking behind his bed, hoping maybe that he had something to cover with up on the floor there. He didn't see anything, including the boots Remy had left on the floor. Bobby tripped over them and fell face first on the ground. He heard Lorna laugh from the door.
This was going to be a disaster.
He should put on pants. So not to make her uncomfortable. Unless…maybe she thought he looked cute without pants. Maybe? Which boxers was he wearing, anyway? He glanced back and saw they were black.
Black was good.
And the t-shirt did show off his arms. Admittedly, he may not have been as buff as some of his older teammates, but his biceps were nothing to laugh at. From his spot on the floor, he flexed.
Yeah. Not bad.
Okay. Yeah. He wasn't putting on pants.
Bobby hopped back to his feet, smoothing the hair from his face. Hmm. He hadn't shaved in awhile. Maybe Lorna would like stubble….
"Hey. What's up?"
Lorna smiled at him. "I heard that you wanted to talk to me."
"Yeah. You wanna come in?" he asked, gesturing at his bed. Lorna nodded and entered, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Bobby sat down next to her.
"Sorry I've sorta been missing these past couple of days." She pushed the hair out of her face. "I needed…" She drew in a deep breath. Bobby tried not to notice what the breathing did to her breasts. "I just needed some time to myself."
"Err, yeah. I heard what happened." He cleared his throat. "With Sinister."
She was looking at her hands in her lap, her fingers fiddling with her blouse. She was refusing to look him dead in the eye. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Decided not to. Not yet, anyway.
"Oh?" she asked, trying and almost succeeding at sounding casual. "What did you hear, exactly?"
"That you were tortured by Sinister. That he hurt you and scarred you bad. And that when we went to rescue the others, you found him and didn't do anything to save him from the fire."
She stared at her hands. Not speaking. Bobby so wanted to reach out and touch her. Just a comforting hand on her shoulder. A hug. Whatever she needed from him most. He would do it. But right now, it looked like she wanted him to sit there and listen. And he would do that.
Besides, for the first time in their relationship, she approached him. It was a start.
"Bobby," she whispered, still not looking at him. "Do you know that there were fifteen mutants being held by Sinister when we got there?"
"Yes…."
"Then you know that three were dead when we arrived and two more passed after the rescue?"
"Yeah…."
"And the ones who survived…." She frowned, her little hands forming a fist. "They're so sick. So messed up. Way worse off than I am. And I'm not in the best condition either."
"You seem fine to me, Lor."
She finally looked at him. Her green eyes were dark and steely. Without a word, she shifted on the bed and turned her back to him. She lifted her shirt.
The excitement that bubbled in his chest died instantly when he saw the many scars running along Lorna's back. Small ones. Long ones. Ugly ones. Still fading. Still fresh. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her back. He was sure she would flinch away.
But she didn't.
She let him run his hand along the plains of her back. Between her shoulder blades. Down the length of her spine. Over her black bra strap. All the way down to the small of her back. He could feel her breathing stutter. But she didn't say anything. And neither did he.
He was sad. He was angry. He wanted to pull her close and make it better. He didn't know what to do but he wanted to do something for her. He didn't even know what to say to her.
"Lorna," he breathed.
"I have nightmares, too. They're better now. But that man made me afraid to wear my hair down or use my powers. I can't sleep peacefully." She shivered as he continued to caress her scarred back. "And I got off easy. Bobby."
"Yeah, Lor?" He peeked over her shoulder so he could see her face. With her head bowed, and hair falling around her face, she was a picture of distressed, beautiful femininity.
Distressed femininity? What the hell?
This chick was turning him into a sap.
"I didn't not save Sinister." She drew in another deep breath. "I left him there. I trapped him there. I wanted him to die. And you know the worst part?"
He swallowed. "What?"
In a swift movement, she yanked her shirt back down and turned to face him once more. "I don't regret anything. And I've spent the past couple of days trying to sort things out. Talking to the police. Talking to the Professor. Talking to Logan. He was the most helpful. And I spent so much time thinking. Trying to figure out how I felt about what I did. Trying to feel guilty. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.
"I'm not a killer, Bobby. I'm really not. Not really. But he…he was evil. He was so evil and he hurt so many people. Not just me. You saw what he did to Rogue and Remy. How messed up they were. I'll never forget Rogue's scream when he broke her arm." She squeezed her eyes shut, deep in thought. "I don't regret what I did and the craziest thing is, I don't even know if he's really dead. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. But whatever happens, I'm willing to deal with the consequences. "
He watched a single tear roll down her cheek. She quickly brushed it aside.
"Even if that makes me a little bit of a monster, too," she finished.
Yeah. No. Okay. He was through with not touching. Whether she liked it or not, she was getting hugged. And when Bobby took her by the shoulders and pulled her close, he was surprised that Lorna allowed for this to happen. Not only did she allow it to happen, but she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back. She didn't cry.
Just hugged.
And it was nice. Not nice that she was upset. But it was nice that she finally let him help her. She never cried or anything. But they sat there and hugged for a very long time. He rocked her a little bit in his arms. She seemed to like that. He could feel her breath on his chest. Smell her hair.
It smelled minty, which he found somewhat humorous.
They might have sat like that for hours. He didn't know. Eventually though, he broke the silence.
"You aren't a monster, Lorna."
She pulled out the hug just a little. Pressed her hands to the upper part of his arm. She was so close….
"Thank you, Bobby."
"You're welcome." He smiled at her. She smiled back.
"Hey, Bobby."
"Yeah, Lor?"
"Are you flexing your bicep muscles?"
"What? No."
He totally was.
"Hey, Lorna."
"Yeah, Bobby?"
"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why did you come here? I mean…what do you want from me? 'Cause I'll be more than happy to give it to you. But I wanna know what you need."
"You want the honest to god truth?"
"Please."
To his utter shock, she lifted a hand and stroked his face. He was going to faint. He was going to grin happily. He was going to have to hope, due to her face touching and close proximity, that he was going to be able to exact some self control.
Deep breaths, Bobby. Deep breaths.
"I'm messed up, Bobby," she said matter of factly. "I am. I have a lot going for me but I also have a lot of things not in my favor too. And with everything that just happened with Sinsiter, I don't know how much more messed up I'll be."
She caressed him again.
"But I like you. I like you . I do. I'm not sure how much. I know I wanna figure it out, though." She leaned in a little closer. Now he could feel her breath on his face. "But you need to know everything. About me. Know if you want to put up with someone like me. You'll have to take it slow with me, because I'm still kinda…fragile. But I'm hoping if I tell you the honest to god truth, maybe you'll give me a chance."
Here was his moment. His chance to say the one liner that would secure him a place in Lorna's heart. He looked at her beautiful face. Her wide, vulnerable eyes. Her delicate mouth. Her long lashes.
And coherent though t abandoned him.
Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
He was struggling to remember how to breathe right now. How the hell was he supposed to tell her yes?
The most he could was nod. Nod his head vigorously.
It seemed to be enough. Because Lorna broke out in a large smile and leaned up until there was only a breath of space between their faces.
"You're a good guy, Bobby Drake," she murmured, pressing her mouth to his.
Finally.
XXXXX
Remy flipped a light on, leaning against the door.
"Well, this is different," he said, lifting an eyebrow as he regarded Rogue, who stood across from him. His heart cracked a little at the sight of her. Some of the swelling had gone down but her eye still looked awful. Her face was riddled with various bruises and little cuts. On her arm was a cast.
"You look like shit," Rogue told him, her eyes roving him casually.
"Like you're much of a vision right now," he countered.
She grinned a little at his jab. "You need a haircut."
"I know. But you don't."
She reached out to touch her hair. It was falling past her shoulders now. And apparently she hadn't been flat ironing it either, because it was waving as it did naturally. In fact, the waves had almost become curls.
He liked it.
She wasn't wearing make-up either. He loved her make-up free face. It made the green in her eyes really pop. Her lips looked pinker. Lovelier. She looked softer somehow. Still tough as nails. But without the make-up and with the longer hair, she looked more like herself. A strong women with a gentle interior.
Without thinking, Remy reached out and cupped her face in his hands. At the touch of his hands, he felt her soften and relax under her touch. He tilted her chin back so he could press a feather light kiss to her blackened eye, then to the cut on the corner on her mouth. To the bruise on her cheek. The cut on her chin.
"You are perfection," he told her, leaning down to whisper into her ear. His cheek was pressed to hers.
"I'm broken, Rems."
"Never."
He felt her smile. "You like the bruised look?"
"I like the natural look. Bruises and all."
She wrapped her arms around him, in a hug. He returned her embrace, mindful of her ribs. Carefully, so not to do either one of them harm, he pressed his forehead to hers. For a long time, in the confines of the closet she had locked him in, they just stood there. Holding each other and enjoying the sounds of the other breathing.
Remy was still worried about the status of their relationship. But in those long moments spent together in the closet, he thought that maybe everything would turn out okay. He was sure of it.
"Where were you after I woke up?" he asked.
"I sat with you for the longest time but I had to go get fitted for a new uniform."
"You're gettin' a new one?"
"I'm givin' Lorna the old one. It looks good on her. 'Sides, I think it's time for a change."
"Oh, oui. Me too. I think this change should include black leather. 'Member that sexy little getup the Hellfire Club but you in a few months back? I like that. You should wear that. Do you still have that?"
"Remy…" she sighed, sounding exasperated.
He chose to ignore her. "If you still have it, you should wear it. Even if you don' wear it as a uniform, you should wear it 'round the house. And by the house, I mean my bedroom. In my bed. Wit' me. Naked."
"LeBeau."
"You aren' naked though. I'm naked. You're wearin' the leather thing."
"Swamp Rat."
"With chocolate."
"Gambit."
"And knee high socks. Of course."
"Cajun."
"We went from Remy to Cajun in less than a minute. Is that a new record?"
She closed her eyes, seeming to ask for patience. After a long moment, she opened her eyes back up and smiled tiredly at him. "Yes, Remy, that is a new record."
He basked in his ability to irk his girlfriend a few seconds longer before returning to the conversation.
"So you're gettin' a new uniform, eh?"
"Yup."
"What's it look like?"
"It just black." She shrugged. "With a belt."
He rubbed his cheek against hers, careful not to disrupt any of their cuts or bruises. "I'm positive you will be exquisite in it."
"If you think sweet talkin' is gonna get you outta the trouble you're in for lettin' Essex take you in the first place, you're wrong." She lifted her hand to punch him, realized her punching arm was also the fractured arm, and dropped it. She settled for narrowing her eyes at him. "When we're finished healin', I am so kickin' your ass."
"Oh, Cherie, I wouldn' have it any other way."
Then he kissed her. Because why the hell not?
He loved her. He loved her terribly. Loving Rogue made Remy think of something he heard in high school. Some theory with a fancy name that he couldn't remember. Not that he remembered a whole lot from high school in the first place. But he did remember that the theory said that energy could not be created or destroyed. It could change forms.
Well, Remy LeBeau was just full of energy. It was what his mutant power was centered around. He liked to believe that after he was gone—probably in an awesome battle where he saved the day and was shirtless and sexy—he would at least exist as energy. Somewhere.
And Rogue? She was full of life. Fire. Energy. Bright, burning, emerald energy that would never cease to exist.
That romantic side of Remy that he liked to keep mostly secret hoped and believed that even after they were gone, even if the world imploded on itself and nothing was left but darkness, they would be together beyond eternity. Twisting and curling around one another as energy, never destroyed.
He sighed inwardly. This woman was making him into a total wuss. She was ruining his good reputation as a badass Casanova. She was making him thinking of loving her beyond eternity. Next thing he knew, he would be reciting sonnets or poems or odes or whatever the hell it is writers and love sick saps do.
He needed to get it together.
But if he did get it together, he wouldn't be able to experience the high he got whenever he kissed, touched, was around Rogue. And oh, what a high it was.
Dammit. He was going to stay a wuss for Rogue. She was worth it. Even if it did mean he had to lose a little bit of his badassery.
There was still no way that he was writing a poem for her.
Eventually, the two decided that they needed to breathe so they parted. But he still wasn't quite through with her. He continued to cradle her face tenderly and rain kisses down on every injury he could find.
She stroked his arm gently with her undamaged arm. She inhaled his scent—which probably wasn't all that nice considering he was just waking up from a feverish delirium—and seemed generally pleased with him.
It felt like the world—his world—was right again.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
"Rogue."
"Yes, Remy?"
"Are we okay?"
He didn't have to say anymore. She seemed to know exactly what he meant. She lifted a hand. Ran it through his too long hair a few times.
It felt very nice.
Ah, the things he would do to her if it weren't for the fact he felt like he'd been used as Wolverine's punching bag….
Right. He had sworn off rough sex for the time being. He would just have to keep that in mind.
No rough sex, no rough sex, no rough sex, no rough sex….
Even if rough sex was really fun.
Remy whimpered a little, then looked back at his girlfriend.
"I was goin' through somethin', Rems. And it ain't worth explainin' 'cause it was me bein' stupid. But just know that I'm over that stupid stuff. Just know that I'm yours." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you, Remy LeBeau. I really do."
"Je t'aime aussi, mon couer. Je t'aime, Anna."
It was a wonderful moment. One he would remember for years to come. One to be cherished and enjoyed for as long as possible.
So of course Wolvie decided that at that moment, he was going to pound on the closet door, ending his and Rogue's beautiful moment.
"Seriously?" he yelled, slamming his fists to the door. Remy's back was still against it so he shook with each pound. "Am I gonna have to muzzle you two? Get the hell outta here before I end you, LeBeau!"
He was going to say something smart. Something that would probably serve to only make Logan angrier. But, at the last second, he saw Rogue smile and roll her eyes. Then she reached behind him.
He should have known what she was going to do.
But he didn't. Which is how Remy LeBeau ended up lying flat on his back as a result of Rogue opening the closet door, sending him crashing to the ground. He tilted his head back and saw Logan standing in front of him, his eyes wide in confusion. Remy looked back at Rogue, who regarded them both with a smug look.
"Logan," she said, stepping over Remy's prone body as if he wasn't even there. Which he was fine with, because he got an awesome view of Rogue's toned little tushy. Remy was actually quite content to sit back and admire the view.
He watched as her and her lovely butt walked over to Logan and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
"I love you, Logan. You're like a dad to me. So I really appreciate you lookin' out for me. But me and Remy have been doin' this thing for awhile now and I have yet to get pregnant, catch any sort of STD, get my heart broken—"
"You did get a broken arm though," Remy added helpfully from his spot on the floor. Rogue kicked him.
"—and he's taken good care of me. I take care of him. And Logan, I can take care of me too. I don't expect you to stop monitorin' us or stop interruptin' our moments or makin' life hard on us in general—"
"Better not," the gruff man grumbled miserably, glaring at Remy. Remy continued to stare at Rogue's butt.
"But if every now and then, you turned your back and let us have a little…." She shrugged. "Us time, I promise to continue to keep not gettin' pregnant or STDs or heartbroken."
"Are you sayin' that if I don't turn my back, you will start doin' them things?" he challenged, his ever present scowl deepening.
Rogue shook her head, her long hair sweeping along her shoulders. Remy liked how it looked when she did that.
He also really liked her butt.
Hmm…her butt…chocolate….
Nah. Too far.
"I'm not sayin' that at all," she told him. Then she smiled. A little smile. A mischievous, naughty little smile that instantly got Remy's full attention. "I'm just askin' for a little trust on your part. Either way, I'm gonna make sure Remy stays on his best behavior." Over her shoulder, she winked at him. Gave him a look that let him know that she had no intention of doing that at all. "That's the honest to god truth, Logan."
Remy had to stop himself from snorting.
That was about as truthful as "thief's honor" was trustworthy.
He knew he loved that woman for a reason.
XXXXX
Up next…the epilogue.
One thing I should mention: this scene was really inspired by the song Ad Infinitum by this dude named PAZ. PAZ is awesome. You should really check out the song because it is absolutely gorgeous. And when you're done with that, you should go and vote on what story you want next.
Vote, vote, vote, vote!