A/N: There is a small reference to Firefly/Serenity in this chapter. See if you can spot it. Also, I'm assuming most people know that Rogue eventually absorbs Carol Danvers, but because she holds on too long, Carol is permanently in a coma, and Rogue permanently retains her powers of flight, super strength, and invulnerability as well as having Carol's full psyche in her head. There is a brief mention of that in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, X-Men Evolution, Firefly, Serenity, or any of its affiliates.
Chapter 5
Call
Rogue stared up at the ceiling, her hands in tight fists around her blanket, her breath stuttering in her lungs desperate for her to exhale.
"Please, stop," she whispered, and closed her eyes against the pain building in her skull, a single tear slipping out as she did so.
But, they didn't stop. They never stopped. The voices in her head from the psyches she had absorbed were forever clamoring for attention.
Most days, she could keep them at bay by using the mental shields the Professor had helped her to put up. But, it was a constant struggle to keep the shields strong and maintained, and after what happened with Carol a few weeks ago, it was no wonder they were in need of serious repair.
On days like today, she couldn't put forth the effort.
"What's the matter, little girl? Going to cry?!" Sabertooth's cruel voice taunted.
"Shut up, Creed!" Mystique's psyche sneered, "This is why you shouldn't have left, Rogue. I could've helped you!"
"Can it, Mystique!" Logan growled.
Kurt and Toad were involved in a wrestling match in the corner.
"Try to stay calm, Rogue" her live-in Professor was trying to be heard over the cacophony.
Rogue rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head, wishing the voices in her head could be drowned out by the action, but knowing it was futile.
Some psyches were more powerful than others because she had absorbed that person for a longer amount of time or done so multiple times. But, even kinder psyches, like those of her friends, didn't really want to be in her head, and it was exhausting to try to keep them all from fighting with each other and not let them take control over her body.
"You deserve it after what you did to me!" Carol's angry voice shouted, her volume being muffled from behind the two foot thick concrete mental door the Professor had put her behind. At least, she wasn't allowed to run free.
Everyone was shouting at each other and at her.
"Shut up!" she finally yelled, forcing all her mental shields up in a Herculean effort. The shields were weak, barely glass encasements, and she could hear some of them tapping, or in Sabertooth's case scratching against it, but the voices were quiet.
Still, her energy was spent, her whole body trembling with the strain, and it left her with a pounding headache similar to a jackhammer in her head. She whimpered.
Blindly, she reached out a shaking hand towards her nightstand until her fumbling fingers clasped around the little electronic device and brought it close to her. As soon as her eyes could focus enough, she dialed the number she had memorized from looking at it so much, but thus far had never used.
Her anxiety spiked as she listened to the line on the other side ring once, twice.
But, then a masculine voice, groggy with sleep answered, "Allo?"
Rogue's relief was so palpable that she couldn't speak for a moment.
The Cajun voice, slightly irritated, said again "Hello."
She could tell he was about to hang up and finally found her voice, though it came out weaker than she would have liked, "H..hi."
"Chéré?" he asked.
"Yeah. It's me. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" she asked, glancing at the clock on her nightstand which read 4:17 in bright green lettering.
"Non. Ya know me, chéré. Dis Cajun hasn't even been to bed yet," he tried to reassure her.
Liar.
Even for the Ragin' Cajun, this was pushing it. She felt guilty for having disturbed him, but she couldn't bring herself to hang up.
She realized she had been silent again for too long when he prompted gently, "Cheré?"
"Hmmm?" she replied absently.
"You ok?"
Even through the phone line, she could hear the concern in his voice.
"Yeah. I'm fine," she replied automatically.
Liar.
She wasn't sure if it was her own inner voice or one of the psyches that called her out again.
"I don't even know why I called," she rambled.
At least, that much was true. There was no logical reason to call Gambit. She lived in a house with two telepaths, both willing to help sort through the mess that resided in her head. Logan, protective and understanding, had his own demons, and thus was willing to help with hers. Even Kitty, who was currently in Amara and Jubilee's room having a Rom-Com marathon, would've gladly come to assist Rogue if her roommate asked for it.
So, there was no reason to have called the smooth-talking Southern thief other than the simple fact that she wanted to hear his voice.
"Ya sure, Rogue?" he questioned.
No, of course, she wasn't. But, she couldn't find the words to tell him so, to let him know how desperately she needed him to stay on the line, so she just said, "Yeah. Sorry for disturbing you. Good night, Remy."
His voice was hesitant, "Good night, chéré."
There was a long silence, and Rogue clung to the sound of his soft breathing until she heard the slight click that indicated he had hung up.
She fell back onto her pillows, the cell phone slipping from her now limp grasp to the floor. She lay once again staring listlessly at the ceiling. She had heard his voice, but it hadn't been enough. But, she no longer had either the courage or the energy to call him back.
Rogue didn't know how long she stayed like that, mentally berating herself and trying to remember the soft timbre of his voice, but the sound of her balcony door being opened startled her enough out of her reverie to sit up and look towards the noise.
And, then, he was there, his trench coat billowing behind him as he entered and his scarlet eyes intensely focused on her.
"Sounded like you could use a friend," was the only thing he said.
Then, before she even could comprehend what was happening, her body had scrambled out of her twisted covers and launched itself across the room into his waiting arms. He caught her neatly and pulled her close. Quite without her consent, she burst into tears, choking sobs suddenly racking her small frame.
"It's alright," he murmured into her hair.
And, she realized what he was actually telling her. It wasn't alright what had happened to her. But, it was alright to cry. To break. Because he would be there to put her back together again.
Whatever wave of energy had surged through her bloodstream at seeing him left as fast as it had come, and her knees buckled as she sagged against him.
Without a second thought, he easily scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to the bed, settling her in his lap as he sat down.
"Don't worry, Rogue. I've got you. I've always got you," he whispered as she burrowed into his chest, clinging so tightly to him that he was sure he'd probably have bruises the next day. He didn't care.
As long as she was safe, he didn't care.
"It isn't fair. They're not mine. I shouldn't have to carry them. They're not mine," she whimpered.
He didn't have to ask what she meant. People's memories and secrets. Their hopes and dreams. Their fears. No, she shouldn't have to carry them.
"I know, petite. It isn't fair," he agreed as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.
She clung tighter to him. He wished he could take away her pain, but he couldn't. The best he could do was assure her that she wasn't alone.
As he held her as she continued to cry, it occurred to Remy how much she trusted him, and the revelation left him breathless with silent gratitude to be part of this amazing woman's life.
When he had answered the phone, he had known something was wrong, and he was never more glad he had trusted his instincts than now. She didn't deserve to be left alone when she was so clearly in pain.
Every other time he had broken in, it had been about him. Whether it was to prove something to himself with a self-made dare, or getting refuge from a snowstorm, or even to reassure himself she was safe or that she didn't hate him, it had always been about what he needed. This was purely about her, what she needed, what he could give her.
It surprised him how much an unselfish act on his part could make him feel satisfied. Of course, anything done for Rogue was well worth any sacrifice. When had the sassy Southerner of the X-Men come to change so much of his perspective?
He didn't know, and quite frankly didn't care. He was just glad that she had called him.
He let her cry until she had exhausted herself, just providing the simple balm of touch without any empty spoken reassurances.
When she had finally quieted, her heart-breaking sobs transformed into soft sniffling and the occasional hiccup, he pulled away just enough to be able to look at her face.
It was red and puffy as was to be expected, and her green eyes still shined from her tears, and he would've given anything in the world to be able to kiss her cheeks where the continual flow of tears had left tracks, but she looked peaceful at least. Sometimes, a person just needed a good cry.
In fact, as she blinked owlishly up at him, he realized she was almost asleep. A soft smile graced his face as he gently lowered her to her pillow and pulled the covers up around her.
As he began to move away, Rogue's bare hand shot out and gripped his gloved one. A single syllable escaped her lips.
"Stay."
He had no intention of leaving, but her soft, pleading invitation sent a strange thrill straight to Remy's heart. "Of course, cheré," he said softly.
Gambit slipped off his boots and climbed in beside her. He didn't know which of them closed the distance between them, but she was once again in his arms, and they both contentedly fell asleep.
Streaming sunlight poured through her window and was so persistent, it made her open her heavy eyelids. She had a slight headache, but nothing like the merciless pounding of the night before. Her mental shields were stronger this morning. She blinked once, twice, and then slowly became aware of her surroundings. A shy smile lit up her face as she registered the weight of a man's arm slung across her waist and the man himself grinning down at her.
The events of the night before filtered slowly into her mind. She remembered the voices, and the call, and him appearing like a knight in shining trench coat. She remembered crying and being held by his strong arms. She was aware that after sobbing for a while and falling asleep, she probably looked a complete mess.
Even though, she knew this wasn't the first time she and Remy had shared a bed, it was the first time he was still there when she woke up in the morning. Some part of her brain registered that she should be embarrassed, especially with the emotional display of weakness she had engaged in last night. And, with anyone else, she would have been mortified.
But, with Remy smiling at her with that crooked grin and a warmth glowing in his crimson and onyx eyes as he looked at her like she was worth more than any diamond he could steal, she just felt safe.
Safe and happy.
"Hi," she whispered, and stretched languidly.
His grin morphed into a smirk. "Hi."
"You're still here," she stated the obvious.
"You asked me to stay," he reminded her gently.
"I'm glad you listened."
"Me too," he said teasingly, "knew ya couldn't resist dis Cajun."
She shoved him lightly, but not enough to break from his embrace.
He laughed, but then his expression turned serious. "Are you ok, cheré?"
She sighed and thought for a moment before answering honestly, "I think I will be."
"Bon."
As much as she was enjoying being in his arms, there was a niggling feeling in the back of her brain.
"Sugah, what time is it?" she asked, already resigning herself to disappointment.
Gambit pulled away from her just enough to look over his shoulder at the clock. "9:42," he responded, and she groaned, flopping back into him.
He chuckled, but there was a note of sadness in his voice as he asked knowingly, "Time for me to go, chéré?"
"Afraid so. Even on a Sunday, Logan doesn't allow anyone to sleep past 10 A.M."
"It's alright, petite," he said understandingly, and wishing for the first time that he was an X-Man so that he could stay with her. But, then he smirked ruefully. It was unlikely Mr. Adamantium Poster Boy would allow him to stay in Rogue's room, let alone her bed, even if he were decked out in matching spandex.
He pulled her head down with his gloved hands and pressed a lingering kiss into her hair.
She watched him collect his boots and make his way to the balcony. As his hand began to turn the doorknob, her voice called him back. "Hey, Remy?"
"Qui?" he asked turning back to her.
She didn't know why, but she blushed.
"Thanks," she gestured vaguely all around her, finally settling on "for picking up the phone."
His look softened, "My pleasure, chéré."
She smiled, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Mon Dieu! Dis femme drove him crazy, in the best possible way!
He turned to go, but then at the last second threw one more look toward her, "And, Rogue."
Her dark green eyes snapped back to him.
"Call anytime."