Rogue was eighteen years old. At least on her outsides. On her insides, her best guess was several centuries. Hundreds of years worth of memories; both Wolvie and Cap really added to the tally. While know-how and experience and most memories would fade, the very essentials of what made a person a person, those things settled down into the crevices of her mind. They plagued her with guilt, shamed her for what she'd taken. Until recently.
Ororo was of the opinion it was Rogue's insides that were stronger than her outsides. Rogue had thought of herself as a steel magnolia, strong outer layer covering a fragile flower. But why not steel through and through? Beautiful and strong. Delicate but sharp. When Ororo touched her on that riverbank in Caldecott County, she gifted Rogue with a piece of herself. Not just her powers, but the essence of Ororo, a life lived with gratitude and grace. From Logan, a life lived honorably, with resilience and integrity. From Avengers Captain America and Ms. Marvel; a life lived in service, life lived in confidence. Even from Remy's mixed up head, a reminder to live life remembering who you really are, knowing what makes you, you.
And don't forget to have a lot of fun while you're at it.
Rogue was doing these mind-shadows a disservice. Trying to forget them, casting them away because they reminded her of what she'd done. She should take her own advice, learn from the past, and move on from it. She shouldn't forget what she'd learned, squander what she'd stolen as if they were things to be discarded. These things should be treasured, not wasted. Rogue could be stronger for it, not afraid of them, or herself.
When Ororo had hugged her in the kitchen, Rogue hadn't hesitated to return her embrace. She'd put her arms around her friend, rested her forehead on the taller woman's shoulder. Then she saw her hands were bare where they were resting on Ororo's back. Rogue had forgotten to put her gloves back on. Rogue had felt both the softness of Ororo's loosely woven sweater and the smoothness of the skin beneath. She had smiled while tears fell.
Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.
Rogue was in the drug store making a purchase. She'd purposely stood in the line with the older male clerk, even though the queue was longer. Once at the checkout, she dropped a box of condoms onto the counter. She looked the man in the eye, daring him to say anything to her. The clerk rang up her purchase without comment. Instead of putting the box into a nearly transparent drug store plastic bag, he put the item into a white paper bag typically used for prescriptions.
Handing her the bag, he said: "Have a nice day."
Rogue smiled. "Oh, Ah will!"
She marched out the exit and onto the sidewalk. Rogue passed the bank and the diner, peering inside the glass windows hoping to spot Remy's familiar mop of hair and brown coat. She was disappointed. She and Logan had walked into the fading twilight the night before, following Remy's footprints in the snow. The trail abruptly came to an end. Logan assumed the worst, either alien abduction or that Remy had spontaneously combusted. Rogue thought it was more likely that a Good Samaritan, probably a woman, had spotted an extremely handsome young man in dire straits alongside the road and had stopped to pick him up.
They then went to his apartment and found it empty. Rogue considered asking the landlady, Robin, if she'd seen her tennant. But Robin was even more cantankerous than Logan, which was saying something, and Rogue didn't want to needlessly worry the woman. As it turned out, she had gone. Probably visiting her grandkids. Remy would return to the X-Mansion eventually. His coat was still in the closet, Loretta in the garage.
Just after she'd helped prepare and serve breakfast, Rogue departed the X-Mansion to wander through the town library. She did not see the voluptuous librarian with the big eyes Remy had so casually flirted with. She found the bicyclist they'd seen on the street the day Remy'd chopped off most of his hair. He was in the computer lab overseeing a patron being placed in handcuffs by a sheriff's deputy. The patron protested loudly, saying he was a tax-paying citizen and had the right to look at whatever he wanted on the computer.
"Yes, tell that to the folks at the sex offenders' registry!" the librarian said waving sarcastically. "Uh, buh-bye now!"
"Thanks, Curtis," the deputy said. "Be seeing you."
"Hopefully next time for research assistance, and not all this!" Curtis waved his hand at the offender in a dramatic way.
Rogue watched the deputy and the offender depart, then turned to the librarian. "What was that all about?" she asked.
"Oh, you know, all in a day's work. Seems like they forgot to tell me how many perverts show up in public spaces when I was getting my Masters."
Rogue smiled in a sort of half-incredulous, half-concerned way. "Uhm...well. Ah. Anyway, have you seen...mah-friend-the boy with the hair and the sunglasses, brown coat?"
Curtis regarded her archly. "The last time I saw him was when he had his face stuck to yours."
Rogue fared the man with a glare.
"Is he alright?" Curtis followed up. "He hasn't gone missing?
"He just had a rough night is all," Rogue responded. "If he turns up, do you mind calling up to the Xavier school?"
Curtis looked at her sidelong. "Uhm, no. Sorry. We don't report the whereabouts of our patrons, right to privacy and all that. Unless of course, they're engaged in criminal activity!"
Rogue almost laughed.
She'd had a sleepless night. Mostly concerned about where Remy had run off to. Also, pretty mad at Logan (he should have ended up in the lake, it was a good thing he apologized), and completely irate with Magnus. He insisted he was only protecting Rogue, and accepted no blame. Rogue rather loudly declared that thanks to being invulnerable and super-strong, she could protect herself. And if Remy had done what was insinuated, then she would have easily kicked him into orbit herself.
Rogue thought Carol might weigh in on the whole "Fudge the Patriarchy" thing, but she had been strangely silent recently. Maybe with Rogue's newfound confidence inside and out, embracing the mind-shadow, they could be copesetic. Or maybe Rogue wasn't such an easy target now, and Carol had grown bored with antagonizing her. Rogue was formulating a hypothesis that Carol was actually the embodiment of her former fear and self-hatred made real by her mutant powers, and not Carol's actual personality. The real Carol Danvers was out there, alive if not well, living her own life. When Xavier returned, Rogue would have to bring it up.
In any case, Rogue was glad Carol was silent, and not biding her time to jump out unexpectedly at the worst possible moment, as usual. Her being quiet for once was a blessing because Rogue was also preoccupied with the thoughts of what she and Remy had been up to before they were so rudely interrupted. She didn't know it could be like that. Not like a romance novel, it was a lot more real and raw. Instead of being afraid and holding back, she'd only wanted to push down her boundaries. It felt incredibly good to let go, trust Remy entirely. It was very, very rewarding. She felt terrible about what happened afterwards. She thought maybe she'd feel embarrassed, but she wasn't, not about anything she'd done. Rogue was just furious on Remy's behalf. And also, it was supposed to be her turn next! She was so looking forward to making him make that sound in his throat when she did something he really liked. Rogue had definite plans for making it up to him. Privately! Which is why Rogue went to the pharmacy to make her purchase.
It was a surprise to find the object of her fantasies standing on the street corner just after she left the pharmacy. It was almost as if she'd conjured him there. Rogue approached him slowly. Remy looked a lot more put-together than he usually did, his knit hat pulled down over his ears with the ends of his hair curling around his jawline, usual sunglasses on his nose, gloved hands in his pockets. His coat was buttoned, the bright blue scarf neatly wrapped around his neck. She saw he was wearing the bottom half of the X-Men uniform and tall black boots.
"Remy?" she said as she neared him. "You okay, sugah?"
His smile was thin, coldly arrogant. If you didn't know Remy at all, you could assume his usual expression was one of bemusement, arrogance or disinterest. Really, it was just him being internally preoccupied with whatever was going on in his head at the time. The current look on Remy's face was something different. No warmth, no engagement.
"Quite well," came his reply.
"We were worried about you," Rogue said. "Where were ya?"
His mouth twisted into an uncharacteristically cold sneer. "An outdated apartment, sleeping on an uncomfortable and fur-covered settee. With several malodorous felines."
Rogue blinked. "But you love cats...? Sugah, are you sure you're feelin' well?"
"Perhaps it is a lack of proper rest."
"Or you're grouchy 'cause you're hungry? You want t'come home for some breakfast? Ah saved you a plate."
"I have eaten," Remy said.
There was something very strange about his clipped answers. He must be really mad. Though when he got mad, his words usually came out a lot more crooked.
"Are you wearin' Storm's boots?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did ya steal 'em?"
Remy regarded his footwear. "So it appears."
"Here Ah thought there was honor amongst thieves." Rogue sighed, her shoulders fell. "Remy...you want to go somewhere quiet and talk? Ah'm really sorry about yesterday. Whatever Logan said about me keepin' an eye on you...that wasn't the reason Ah wanted to be around you all the time. Ah really care about you."
She couldn't read his expression behind his dark lenses. "Yes. Let us go somewhere private. And talk," he finally said and immediately started off at a quick pace, expecting her to follow.
"Hey, slow down!" she said and trotted after him. "Whatever happened t'smelling the roses?"
"The only flower I am interested in, my dear, is yours," he said in a mocking tone.
Rogue punched him in the arm then, hard. He turned to look at her, his expression slightly amused. Rogue felt a hot flash of embarrassment then. She had an inkling from the start that Remy was fearful of her striking him. He didn't wince or shy away from Danger Room scenarios or wrestling around on the grass during a football game. But he would flinch if Rogue raised a hand to him, even in jest. She suspected it was due to whoever had put that mark on his back.
"Sorry," she said, still angry. "You're just bein' rude. Ah shouldn't 'a hit ya."
"Perhaps our stroll can continue in silence," Remy suggested. "So there will be no more misunderstandings."
Rogue kept pace beside him then. He made no effort to take her hand or arm. His expression, when she looked at him in profile, looked closed, distant. Rogue began to really fear for him then. Maybe he'd gotten really hurt and she just couldn't see. Maybe Logan was right and he did get abducted by aliens. Maybe he was a Skrull.
They walked up the drive towards the apartment, climbed the wooden staircase. At the landing, she was invited in. Again, in a mocking sort of way with a bow and him extending his arm in a flourish to beckon her inside. Rogue stepped into the apartment. It had been cleared of all papers, movies and books. Everything was spartan, empty. Only the bed was a bit rumpled. Rogue turned to look at Remy as he shut the door firmly and locked it.
"You wanna sit on the couch?" she asked. "Or, what'd you call it? A settee?"
Instead of an answer, Remy reached forward and plucked the white paper bag from her hand. He examined the contents and laughed, not in a jocular way, but a short scoffing bark of a laugh. Rogue's expression hardened.
"Quite the strumpet, aren't you," Remy said, not really asking. "To throw yourself at the first opportunity that comes along. My dear, do you not realize that Monsieur LeBeau favors those things that do not come so easily? That when provided an easy and straightforward path, he will undoubtedly turn to the most difficult and circuitous road instead? Perhaps next time you should 'play hard to get.'"
Rogue was absolutely frozen with a cold wash of fear and dread. Remy-not-Remy removed his sunglasses. His eyes were bright red, not the deep black and crimson eyes she was used to. His expression was like a cold mask, betraying no emotion.
"What. Did you. Do ta him?" Rogue said haltingly, her voice throaty with fear. "Where's Remy?"
The man before her grinned a thin-lipped smile and tapped his temple with a forefinger. "Oh, he is here, yet. I have allowed him to observe. Quite angry. Such foul language."
Rogue said, staring into Remy's eyes: "Remy, sugah, if you can hear me, Ah'm sorry." She raised her fist and sent it flying towards the man's face.
An inch before contact, Rogue found herself frozen in place. Her whole body was rigid, caught in a telekinetic hold she could not break free from. She opened her mouth to scream, but her jaw would only open so wide. The sound she made was more of a mewl. The man leaned close, put his face mere inches from her own. His eyes looked into hers, studying her as one might study an insect under a magnifying lens. The man's hand moved to cup the back of her skull. He drew himself closer and pressed a hard mouth into hers. Rogue let out an outraged scream against his lips.
The man withdrew, looked at her skeptically. "That was not nearly as satisfying as I had hoped," he said with mild disgust. "Perhaps we should proceed to the next step." The man divested Rogue of her coat, grasped the collar of the sweater she wore, and tore it in two. She would have jerked in surprise if she could move. The man looked at her critically, placed a cold hand on her bare stomach and shoved it down the front of her jeans.
"Your skin is nearly indestructible, and your strength formidable, but this does not grant you permission to simply ingest every sugar and carbohydrate you find," he said. "You will find men prefer women who maintain. Who are delicate in carriage and appearance."
Rogue's teeth ground together. "Who. Are. You?" she hissed.
"We will not be so long acquainted, Rogue," the man said with feigned sincerity. "Perhaps a few hours. Long enough to ensure the thief is suitably cowed, perhaps broken. As someone who only recently regained the ability to experience discomfort, you have my commiseration. I imagine our brief time together will be quite painful...for you."
The man may have prevented her from moving, but he did not stop her furious tears from flowing. "Let him go…" she said, almost a growl.
"I will. I will let him go into that good night, but none too gently. I informed LeBeau he would live to regret his decision. I am making good on my threat. Regret will be his final experience."
Rogue was freed of her sweater, her torso bare but for her bra.
No, she thought, her body trembling with defiance. You will not hurt me. I won't let you.
The monster who was not Remy placed his hands gently on her shoulders, let his hands travel down her arms, then back up.
Her skin may have burned, but not so bright as the fire in her eyes.
Next time: Gambit definitely does NOT get his security deposit back.
We have two votes for ROMANCE and one for SEXY. You still got several chapters to weigh in on what you want: Action, Romance, or Sexy preview for next book.
PS - I also post my stories over on Archive of Our Own .org. I have a new story there exclusively because it's sexually explicit. Same username: NicoPony. Story is called: Here's Your One Chance, Fancy. If you're not into porn with plot, super awkward sexual situations, frank discussions of bodily autonomy and fertility/infertility, then it won't be for you. If you want to see a happily married Gambit and Rogue invite a third party to the-party-then it might be right up your...ahmmm...alley?
