Author's Note: Quick/short update. A bit o' filler. We're almost at the finish line. You guys are great, thanks for all the kind words :D
- 35 -
He'd probably slept about a half an hour more after Ororo had woken him gently. Whispering near his ear that she was going out with Jean for awhile, and would return to him later. Remy heard himself grunt in acknowledgement, muffled by the pillow, but he was hardly lucid. Ororo laughed at his hoarse grumble. Her low chuckle found his ears, and he grinned sleepily when he felt her leaning on the bed and her soft lips warm on his bare back.
Rising, Ororo grinned softly at him before pulling the sheets up farther around his shoulders, and glancing back once more before grabbing her bag and quietly shutting the door behind her.
The Cajun had been vaguely confused when he awoke several minutes later, reaching out and founding her side of the bed empty – the sheets cool where she'd lain. Remy yawned and stretched his long body, turning over, groaning as he flipped over onto his back with his arms and legs spread across the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Sensitive red and black eyes squinted a little at the golden light slipping through Ororo's sheer curtains. He lifted his hand to his face, scratching his face and feeling the coarse stubble he knew decorated his jaw. He didn't arise out of bed immediately though. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ororo and all he'd learned about her last night. When he found out what could cause a little girl to tremble in the dark, and a grown woman to tremble aboard a plane.
— x —
NIGHT BEFORE . . .
"I don't remember it all . . . just . . . the fear . . ." she'd told him. "I was born in Harlem, but my mother and father had traveled to Cairo on a photography assignment for my dad. We stayed at a hotel there."
Remy listened silently, watched the stoic demeanor she wore while reliving the event. Her voice was small, but clear, and he wasn't all put out that she didn't look at him as she spoke. Her eyes finding rest on their set of joined hands, intertwined tightly.
"There was an Arab/Israeli conflict happening at that time. I can remember this . . . roaring sound coming closer and closer, and I can remember looking towards where the noise was coming and seeing this huge plane heading straight toward our window."
"Mon Dieu . . ." he gasped. His exclamation hardly more than a whisper. Remy's heart lurched inside, panic and sobering realization seizing his heart and settling bitterly in his stomach.
"Everything is black after that. I woke up in an Egyptian hospital with only a few minor scraps, bruises . . . My parents were gone."
Remy's eyes stung with the onset of tears. He blinked furiously to keep any from falling. Swallowing hard past the sorrow he felt at her plight.
"Like I told you, I don't remember it all, but it seems to come back vividly in flashes when something triggers a reminder."
"Like flyin' on a plane," Remy concluded.
Tiny drops of rain pelted softly against the glass doors leading to the small balcony outside their room. He looked at her face to see – wondering if it was a mirror of the gentle show of weather pattering against the French doors outside. But her face was dry. Remy lifted her beautiful, tearless face up from its downcast position, noticing immediately, her eyes suddenly resembled a cloudy sky, the wintry blue replaced with a dull gray.
"I'm sorry, ma coeur," he uttered, soft words under-noted with heart-warming sincerity. Remy watched a tired smile curve her mouth, full ruddy lips barely forming a quirk.
"I know, love." Sighing, bringing her head to his, she kissed it. "I know."
He hadn't guessed that. Indeed, who would've? Ororo fell asleep soon after that, and he too followed her minutes later. Knowing full well in that moment, that her pain would always be his to share. Yet, it wasn't a somber thought, despite the situation. It was a forging – a binding of hearts, of feelings potent and true.
— x —
Ororo's scent wafted around him as he finally pulled back the covers, stretching languidly as he stood, hearing the slight cracks and pops of his joints. Remy glanced at the digital display by the bedside before shuffling towards the bathroom. He shucked his night clothes, giving the water a moment to heat up, stepping in and showering quickly. Hoping he would catch Ororo's father still at breakfast. He stepped out dripping, grabbing a towel and tucking it in around his waist. Water dripped from his longish locks, bending down and riffling through his luggage for a pair of denim jeans and a shirt. The ends of his plentiful auburn hair dampened his shirt around the shoulders, while he left it to air dry and hurried downstairs, finding his way around easily. Unlike someone who'd only been there a little over a day.
His long strides came to a halt in his trek through the halls when he caught a glimpse of several pictures mounted on a wall in what was obviously a large sitting room. He wandered into the room curiously, pausing at a cluster of pictures near the fireplace. Remy leaned in and started at the photographs. A pleasant smile lit up his dark eyes. Pictured were various photos of Ororo – some of her alone in them, others with a combination of Charles, Jean, and even two with Moira.
He looked over them carefully, learning something from each. A few even adorned the mantle of the fireplace beneath them. Pictures of what appeared to be a preteen Ororo playing a piano, her eyes focused intently on its keys. One of Ororo and Jean and Charles and Moira at their graduation, the former two draped in their gowns and smiling at the camera, Charles' face reflecting his pride with Moira, her hand on his shoulder, smiling – standing at his side.
When said man wheeled quietly into the room, Remy hardly noticed. Still grinning at the pictures of his 'Ro. He recognized one with Jonathan and Ororo and couldn't help scowling – the copper-skinned man beaming at the camera with an arm around Ororo, who ironically wasn't smiling at all, but wore a mild expression on her flawless face.
"I suppose we will need some of you and her now."
Remy turned to look at Charles coming along beside him, his eyes, too, finding the photographs. The man was impeccably dressed, donning a three piece business suit and polished back Ferragamo's. Remy just smiled, giving a short nod of his head.
"We must be sure to take a few before you both leave."
"Bien. Sure."
Charles sighed, reaching up to clap a hand on Remy's shoulder. "Come, my boy. Join me for breakfast."
"Oui, t'ank you." Remy nodded, glancing back at the photographs a last before following behind Xavier.
Lilandra refilled the two men's cups of coffee, smiling at both men before pushing through the door that led to the kitchen, making her exit and leaving Remy and Xavier alone in the room and sitting at the table.
Though utterly charming and never without words of wit, the Cajun had been somewhat concerned about what to say to Ororo's father when Ororo wasn't there and it was just the two of them. Trying to avoid any potentially awkward moments between himself and father of his woman. But the Cajun soon found out he'd needlessly been anxious because Charles engaged him fully in conversations. Not only out of cordiality or false pretenses but genuine interest. Remy respected that, and the initial respect he had for Charles grew incrementally each time he found himself in the man's company. Plus, not many could pull of the bald look as Charles did, Remy ruminated insightfully.
The two men found themselves discussing many things over breakfast, venturing in even onto the subject of Remy's father and his politics. Oddly, Remy wasn't surprised or put-off. Jean-Luc LeBeau was currently only a mayor, but it was no secret he was considering moving onto the state level, where mutant rights were a hot topic. And also, the focus of the wise Dr. Charles Francis Xavier who dined right across from him.
". . . All of this has much to do with why I asked Ororo to visit," Charles was saying.
"Huh?"
Remy's ears perked at that. "Say again, sir, sorry." Remy leaned forward in his chair, his ears open and ready for information. More curious than he had realized he was about the reason for Charles' request for Ororo. He chalked it up to Charles' purposeful ambiguity on the matter. One couldn't help but to wonder.
"Just Charles, please."
"Right. Charles."
Xavier grinned, grabbing his coffee and swallowing a mouthful and wiping at his mouth with a linen napkin, before issuing a reply.
"Helping mutants, Remy. A broad reason, of course, but it does relate to why I wanted to have a discussion with Ororo in person."
"I see," Remy murmured. He said nothing for a minute, letting his brain absorb the statement. He was left curious still – more so. How could this involve Ororo? Honestly, there were a thousand ways, but he didn't dare try to piece together the puzzle without all of the pieces – not yet anyhow.
"Ha," Charles laughed heartily, "your face looks much like Ororo's did last night."
Remy scoffed.
"Do not fret, Remy. All will be explained later this evening once Ororo comes home and we arrive there."
More ambiguity.
"Does 'there' have somet'ing t' do wit' dis too," Remy asked, keenly.
Again, the older man chuckled. "Absolutely."
The door to the dining room opened again, this time admitting Moira, three shopping bags in hand, pulling out the chair next to Charles, and plopping down into it.
"Back so soon," Charles greeted her.
"Aye, Jeannie got called into work. Cut our little excursion short, it did." Moira leaned over and kissed the top of Charles' head. He smiled, laying his hand over atop hers on the table. Moira grinned in return, turning towards Remy and nodding. "Guid marning, Remy."
"Mornin'."
Remy looked back at the door, watching and expecting Ororo to walk through it next. When she failed to, Remy turned around to question Moira. "Did 'Roro come back wit' yo'?"
The Scotswoman shook her head. "She said she'll be home soon, there were a few things she wanted tae get while she was out."
She and Charles fell in conversation amongst themselves, leaving Remy alone with his thoughts. A subtle feeling of disappointment washing over him when he learned Ororo would be awhile still. He rose and thanked Charles for breakfast, before leaving the table and jogging through the halls, back up the spiraling staircase to the bedroom to grab his cell phone. He could call Ororo, find out where she was, and join her there. No waiting.
The phone wouldn't turn on when he went to call, and he murmured a curse, bending down to rifle through his luggage again and search out his charger. A small mountain of clothes piled up on the bed, piece by piece, as Remy hunted through two bags trying to locate the thing. He heard the door open and creak shut behind him, and he looked up at the noise, standing fully to see Ororo coming in, shaking her head at the mess before her.
"'Roro."
"Remy, what are your doing, babe?" she laughed, setting her bags and packages on the messy bed and tugging off her sweater, revealing a pretty powder blue dress. Remy walked over, pulling her into his arms and pecked her smiling lips.
"I was gonna call yo'; I couldn' find my charger."
"So I see," she grinned, glancing at the jumbled mess on the bed.
"Jean, Moira, and I went out for breakfast, and then we walked around to pick up a few things. I was a little late because I stopped at a few other places and got something for you." She pointed at the bags.
"Moi?" Remy gestured to himself, hands on his chest indicatively.
"Yeah," Ororo lips curved, picking up the clothes on the bed, and starting to fold them properly. "That box right there."
Remy grinned at her and reached over to pick up rectangular box, a simple ribbon across it and a bow on the top. He pulled the top to the box off and pushed back the tissue paper to find a brand new leather duster. Black and soft to the touch as he ran his fingers over it gently.
"I know you already have your brown one, but I thought you'd look incredibly handsome in a brand new one. It just looked like it would fit you." She napped her fingers as she remembered the other items.
"And I got you something else, too," she piped up. "Over there in that bag."
"Chèrie . . ."
"It's nothing much," she preempted. "Go on, open it," she prodded.
Inside the bag was a pair of Aviator designer lenses and a beautiful black lacquer lighter by Caran d'Ache. Remy gasped when he saw it. Turning it over in his hands reverently. "Mon Dieu," he exclaimed quietly.
Her heard Ororo laugh softly.
"I had hoped you'd like it."
"Like it? Ma chère . . . dis – it's too much. Dese lighters run in de thou—"
"It doesn't matter what it cost, Remy. You know that. It's just an affectionate gesture on my part."
"But why all dis, ma belle?"
Ororo paused in folding the shirt she was holding, her incredible blue eyes softening as they found his. "Because you make me happy," she said simply. She laid the shirt atop a pile and grabbed the stack of clothes and headed towards the dresser.
"The way you treat me, all you've done for me. It's just a small thank you," she told him. Her back was towards him while she placed the clothing neatly in the drawers. Ororo started when she felt the heat of his chest against her thin dress. He grabbed her arms, turning her around and took her mouth suddenly. Slow and deep. His lips moved over hers thoroughly, tightening his hold on her hips and pulling her into him, effectively leaving her wedged between the Cajun and the dresser.
Remy happily tasted her sweetness, her vulnerable confession egging and provoking him to just snatch her up and devour her whole. He sighed deeply at the pleasure of her soft curves against him.
"'Ro, can yo' père—"
"Mm, no, he can't. He was leaving with Moira when I came in."
"Good." He took her lips again, more urgent this time.
He reached his frenzied hands down between them. "Je t'aime, 'Ro." Unbuckling his belt quickly. " Aimez-vous," he vowed hotly.
"Remy . . ."
He clawed away any and all cloth between them. Ororo's blue eyes melting into white as thunder rattled the glass French doors of the balcony.
Translations
Je t'aime, Ororo. Aimez-vous = I love you, Ororo. Love you.