My Heart in Your Hands
by Princess of Monkeys
Chapter 31
I'm uber sorry for it taking so long for me to get this up... Damn life keeps getting in the way again. Lots of friends birthdays, work stuff, family stuff... But hey, it can't be too bad, you're getting two chapters for the price of one, so don't complain too much, kay? And if you're lucky, I might even get a third one up by tonight.
Oh yeah, ((this means someone's talking in another language)) and I'm not even going to try to mess with writing what a Cajun person's accent would sound like while speaking French, so when people speak in other languages, they don't have accents, just like in their own thoughts. This simplifies things for me ever so much...
Remy woke with the dawn. For a moment he was confused, looking around the unfamiliar and expensively furnished room, but swiftly memory returned with all the gentleness of a sledgehammer. _Rogue!_
Dressing quickly in his same rather battered and beat up clothes, he raced down to the med bay; he'd paid attention when Kitty had led him out the night before. As he came up the hallway, he saw Dr. McCoy seated in a chair next to Rogue's bed, marking something in her charts. He didn't look like he'd slept at all.
The doors swooshed open for him, and Remy stepped inside quickly, making his way over to the other man and taking a seat next to him. "Dere be any changes?" he asked, concern evident in his tone. Dr. McCoy looked over at him, wondering. He wanted to trust the Professor's judgment of the young man; but Charles hadn't been there, hadn't seen the dangerous efficiency with which Remy and his companions had fought. Hank wasn't really sure what to think of the man before him- the worry Remy showed over Rogue's condition seemed to be real, but was anything else? Shaking loose the thoughts from his mind, he decided to put his doubts aside for the moment. _Charles is right- people do deserve second chances._ "Her condition remains stable, but she hasn't woken up yet. Although her injuries seem to be healing at an accelerated pace..." he trailed off, speaking more to himself than to Remy.
Remy settled back in his chair, a pensive expression settling over his features. _Nowhere in her files did it say anything about a healing mutation..._ But he kept his thoughts to himself, simply nodding and playing absently with a card he'd produced from his pocket.
Hank noticed the card, but kept his comments to himself, since it didn't seem likely that Remy was planning on blowing anything up. A moment passed, and Hank asked in the friendliest voice he could muster, if Remy could possible do him a favor. When Remy gave assent, he sent the young man to go get him coffee. Even though he had a coffeemaker and brew in the lab, he wanted to get Remy out while he took a look at some of Rogue's other injuries. The young man raised an eyebrow at him, but voiced no complaints as he turned to go. _That should take him a while, if it takes him even half as long to find the kitchen as it took me,_ Hank thought with satisfaction, turning back to his patient.
Remy backtracked to the main first floor hallway, and then allowed the aroma of coffee to lead him the rest of the way. Following the scent to its source, he found the kitchen, complete with a merrily bubbling coffeepot- and Logan.
Logan looked up from his perusal of the newspaper, and fixed Remy with an impassive yet vaguely threatening gaze. To his credit, Remy only hesitated for a moment before entering the room. He could feel Logan's eyes on him as he proceeded directly to the coffeepot, and began rummaging in cupboards for a cup. He'd figured that Dr. McCoy had just been trying to get him out of the lab, so he figured he'd have that coffee and give the man space enough to do his job. After several minutes with no success, he threw caution to the winds and turned to face Logan.
"Homme, y' gon' tell Remy where de cups be, or y' jus' gon' sit dere an' watch?"
Logan gave him a threatening smile and commented lazily "Naw, I think I'm gonna sit right here an' see how long it takes ya, Gumbo."
Remy slammed another cupboard door shut and muttered "well, if dat's how y' gonna be...." Suddenly, he found himself slammed up against the wall, two adamantium claws on either side of his throat and a third slowly extending towards him. "Lemme tell ya how it's gonna be, bub. See, I know Stripes was with ya last weekend- I can smell it. I know ya ain't gonna stay away from her, so lemme give ya some friendly advice. Ya hurt her, an' they'll still be findin' pieces of yer body ten years from now. Got it Gumbo?" He stared intently at the Cajun, not moving a muscle. Surprisingly enough, he smelled no fear- definite unease, but not fear. His estimation of the man rose slightly- not many people could come that close to his claws without fear.
They stood locked in silence for a moment; then, surprisingly, heedless of the claw only inches from his throat, Remy laughed. "Sure homme, whateva' y' say."
With an animalistic snarl, Logan retracted his claws, and Remy didn't even flinch as fine cuts opened up along the sides of his neck. He merely grabbed the cup he'd spied sitting in the dish drainer by the sink, and poured himself a cup of coffee, whistling a merrily annoying tune. Logan sat down at the table again, picking up the paper, and waiting for Remy's reaction to the coffee. It wasn't what he'd expected.
Remy took a sip, and made a face. "Meh! Y' call dis coffee, homme? Somebody need t' give y' lessons- dis be prob'ly de weakest coffee Remy eva' drank." He left the kitchen, Logan's low growl of a laugh following him out.
Logan stared after Remy's retreating figure thoughtfully. He hadn't been lying when he'd threatened to slice and dice the Cajun if he hurt Rogue, but in spite of himself, he could almost get to like the guy.
Returning to the med bay, he took a seat next to Rogue, noticing that Dr. McCoy had moved into his own experimental part of the lab- he must have finished his tests, Remy decided. Hank looked up as Remy came in and sat down, and minutes later he was bustling over with iodine and band aids, noticing the cuts on Remy's neck. "I see you've already managed to get on Logan's bad side," he commented as he dabbed at one of the scratches.
Remy sucked in his breath at the sting of the iodine. When the sensation passed, he smiled in response to Dr. McCoy's statement, and said lightly, "non, we gon' get along jus' fine." Hank just shook his head and finished cleaning the wounds. When Remy refused bandages, he retreated back to his desk and his ever present research.
When he was sure the other man was out of earshot, Remy began speaking to Rogue again. He didn't really know why he talked to her in French- he knew she was studying it in school, but she wasn't fluent by any means- she'd complained about her poor grade in the course when they'd been up on the hill that night, discussing inconsequential things. But it somehow seemed right- some part of him felt that she really could understand him- maybe the little part of him that was inside her head could translate for her or something like that. And it made it easier for him to tell her things, knowing that other people probably didn't understand what he was saying.
He knew she was in there somewhere- the monitor was showing definite brain activity. So he told her what was going on- where she was, and the things that had happened, so that when she woke up, she wouldn't be scared and confused and clueless. Last night, he had told her about his conversation with the Professor, and his thoughts on the man; this morning, he told her about his encounter with Logan and the new nickname he'd managed to acquire from the man. He swallowed the last of the coffee, complaining to her about its poor quality, which somehow turned into a tale about living with the Acolytes, which led into tales from his childhood.
As he spoke to her, he couldn't help but marvel again at how beautiful she was. All the makeup had been washed off her face, and he smiled at the realization that she had a faint dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks- it had always been dark before, or she had been wearing makeup, so he'd never seen them before.
He found himself particularly fascinated with her hands as well- the skin so pale and smooth looking, always protected by her gloves. She had painted her nails a sparkly purple color, and he found himself oddly caught up on that one detail- what did it say about her as a person, that she painted her nails, even thought normally, no one would ever see them?
As he talked to her, she didn't stir; she seemed so small in the bed, dwarfed by the blankets, the force of her personality diminished somewhat in sleep. She looked soft and peaceful; so much of the prickly, hard exterior she assumed while awake melted away from her for him, and he knew he'd never see her the same way again, when she woke up. Despite her cold, snappish façade, she would always be in some part soft and peaceful to him, because he'd seen her this way. He refused to consider the possibility that this was the only way he'd ever see her again.
Remy was unaware of how much time had passed, until he heard a soft throat clearing sound behind him. Turning, he saw the Professor, waiting, behind him, and he said to Rogue ((your Professor wants to talk to you. I promise I'll be back.)) With feline grace, he rose from his chair, inclining his head to Xavier as he passed.
As he stepped out into the hallway, intending to stay and wait for the telepath to finish, he nearly tripped over Kitty, who was seated on the floor reading a book. "Y' jus' gon' camp out here til she wakes up?" He asked her, taking a seat next to her on the floor, and she nodded. "Yeah- there's, like, some stuff I really need to tell her."
Gently, he said "Y' know, y' can still tell her, petite- jus' cause she ain' answerin' don't mean she don' hear y'." But Kitty shook her head. "No, not for this- I really need her to be awake...." Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding the fear underlying her words. "Remy think we all do, petite," her replied.
They sat in an almost comfortable silence for a while, and Kitty went back to reading her book. Remy idly glanced over a the cover, and burst out laughing. Blushing, Kitty snapped "Oh shut up. I am so sick of everybody making fun of me for reading romance novels! I mean, like, at least I know how to read, unlike some people who only play video games all day-" Still laughing, Remy stopped her before she could get going into a full fledged rant. "Non, petite, Ah wasn't laughin' at y'- Remy jus' know de author, dat's all."
She looked disbelieving. "How would you know St. John Allerdyce? He's from, like, Australia!" She pointed at the author bio at the back of the book to emphasize her point. But Remy just laughed again. "Remy think y' know 'im too. De man's always wearin' dat orange coverall, got a crazy laugh, likes t' make animals outta fire.... Remy coulda swore y' met de man before."
She gave him a sour look. "Now you're totally just making fun of me. Evil mutants aren't romance writers!"
"He ain' evil- jus' crazy. Remy be tellin' y' true, petite- when he ain' settin' things on fire or watching dat cartoon channel, he be drinkin' beer and swearin' 'bout how he can't get de characters to cooperate wit' him." He didn't mention Pyro's other favorite activity- discussing his crush on Kitty's teammate.
She finally believed him. "Ohmigod, I fought someone famous! I wonder if he could autograph my books... Oh, wait, I guess not," she trailed off, remembering who the writer was working for. Making a face, she commented sarcastically "Magneto probably won't let him publish any more books- I mean, who has time for writing romance novels when your boss is working towards global domination?" She sighed. "And he's such a good writer, too..."
Remy pulled a face. "Don' know 'bout dat, petite. He be workin' on some new story wit' a coupla mutants in it, an he made Remy read de first coupla chapters when Remy lost a bet to 'im." He made another face, and Kitty laughed. "Rogue'll never let you live it down when she finds out you were reading a romance novel!"
"Who eva' said de femme gon' be findin' out?"
Kitty just smiled an evil little smile and laughed at him. At that moment, Kurt appeared in the hallway, bringing with him the distinct odor of sulfur, and his expression turned sour when he saw Kitty laughing with the Acolyte. Memories of his conversation with Rogue the weekend before came back to him, how she had said that sometimes people just ended up on the wrong side. He didn't want to be judgmental, didn't want to be full of hate for someone he didn't even know- but it was hard to give the man a chance when one of his closest friends was lying unconscious in the med bay with only the Acolyte's version of events to go by for explanation. Conflicted and irritated, he settled down on the floor across from Kitty. As irrational as it was, he grew more irritated at the sight of the book in her hands. _I know they had a fight, but she's reading romance novels and laughing at the Acolyte's jokes- doesn't she even care about Rogue at all?_
Caustically, he commented "Katzchen, vhy do you read those stupid things anyway?" and his mood didn't improve when Kitty and Remy shared a look and laughed again. He was so immersed in his ire that he didn't notice the forced, almost manic quality of Kitty's laughter, or the way Remy's eyes flicked to the med bay doors every few seconds.
by Princess of Monkeys
Chapter 31
I'm uber sorry for it taking so long for me to get this up... Damn life keeps getting in the way again. Lots of friends birthdays, work stuff, family stuff... But hey, it can't be too bad, you're getting two chapters for the price of one, so don't complain too much, kay? And if you're lucky, I might even get a third one up by tonight.
Oh yeah, ((this means someone's talking in another language)) and I'm not even going to try to mess with writing what a Cajun person's accent would sound like while speaking French, so when people speak in other languages, they don't have accents, just like in their own thoughts. This simplifies things for me ever so much...
Remy woke with the dawn. For a moment he was confused, looking around the unfamiliar and expensively furnished room, but swiftly memory returned with all the gentleness of a sledgehammer. _Rogue!_
Dressing quickly in his same rather battered and beat up clothes, he raced down to the med bay; he'd paid attention when Kitty had led him out the night before. As he came up the hallway, he saw Dr. McCoy seated in a chair next to Rogue's bed, marking something in her charts. He didn't look like he'd slept at all.
The doors swooshed open for him, and Remy stepped inside quickly, making his way over to the other man and taking a seat next to him. "Dere be any changes?" he asked, concern evident in his tone. Dr. McCoy looked over at him, wondering. He wanted to trust the Professor's judgment of the young man; but Charles hadn't been there, hadn't seen the dangerous efficiency with which Remy and his companions had fought. Hank wasn't really sure what to think of the man before him- the worry Remy showed over Rogue's condition seemed to be real, but was anything else? Shaking loose the thoughts from his mind, he decided to put his doubts aside for the moment. _Charles is right- people do deserve second chances._ "Her condition remains stable, but she hasn't woken up yet. Although her injuries seem to be healing at an accelerated pace..." he trailed off, speaking more to himself than to Remy.
Remy settled back in his chair, a pensive expression settling over his features. _Nowhere in her files did it say anything about a healing mutation..._ But he kept his thoughts to himself, simply nodding and playing absently with a card he'd produced from his pocket.
Hank noticed the card, but kept his comments to himself, since it didn't seem likely that Remy was planning on blowing anything up. A moment passed, and Hank asked in the friendliest voice he could muster, if Remy could possible do him a favor. When Remy gave assent, he sent the young man to go get him coffee. Even though he had a coffeemaker and brew in the lab, he wanted to get Remy out while he took a look at some of Rogue's other injuries. The young man raised an eyebrow at him, but voiced no complaints as he turned to go. _That should take him a while, if it takes him even half as long to find the kitchen as it took me,_ Hank thought with satisfaction, turning back to his patient.
Remy backtracked to the main first floor hallway, and then allowed the aroma of coffee to lead him the rest of the way. Following the scent to its source, he found the kitchen, complete with a merrily bubbling coffeepot- and Logan.
Logan looked up from his perusal of the newspaper, and fixed Remy with an impassive yet vaguely threatening gaze. To his credit, Remy only hesitated for a moment before entering the room. He could feel Logan's eyes on him as he proceeded directly to the coffeepot, and began rummaging in cupboards for a cup. He'd figured that Dr. McCoy had just been trying to get him out of the lab, so he figured he'd have that coffee and give the man space enough to do his job. After several minutes with no success, he threw caution to the winds and turned to face Logan.
"Homme, y' gon' tell Remy where de cups be, or y' jus' gon' sit dere an' watch?"
Logan gave him a threatening smile and commented lazily "Naw, I think I'm gonna sit right here an' see how long it takes ya, Gumbo."
Remy slammed another cupboard door shut and muttered "well, if dat's how y' gonna be...." Suddenly, he found himself slammed up against the wall, two adamantium claws on either side of his throat and a third slowly extending towards him. "Lemme tell ya how it's gonna be, bub. See, I know Stripes was with ya last weekend- I can smell it. I know ya ain't gonna stay away from her, so lemme give ya some friendly advice. Ya hurt her, an' they'll still be findin' pieces of yer body ten years from now. Got it Gumbo?" He stared intently at the Cajun, not moving a muscle. Surprisingly enough, he smelled no fear- definite unease, but not fear. His estimation of the man rose slightly- not many people could come that close to his claws without fear.
They stood locked in silence for a moment; then, surprisingly, heedless of the claw only inches from his throat, Remy laughed. "Sure homme, whateva' y' say."
With an animalistic snarl, Logan retracted his claws, and Remy didn't even flinch as fine cuts opened up along the sides of his neck. He merely grabbed the cup he'd spied sitting in the dish drainer by the sink, and poured himself a cup of coffee, whistling a merrily annoying tune. Logan sat down at the table again, picking up the paper, and waiting for Remy's reaction to the coffee. It wasn't what he'd expected.
Remy took a sip, and made a face. "Meh! Y' call dis coffee, homme? Somebody need t' give y' lessons- dis be prob'ly de weakest coffee Remy eva' drank." He left the kitchen, Logan's low growl of a laugh following him out.
Logan stared after Remy's retreating figure thoughtfully. He hadn't been lying when he'd threatened to slice and dice the Cajun if he hurt Rogue, but in spite of himself, he could almost get to like the guy.
Returning to the med bay, he took a seat next to Rogue, noticing that Dr. McCoy had moved into his own experimental part of the lab- he must have finished his tests, Remy decided. Hank looked up as Remy came in and sat down, and minutes later he was bustling over with iodine and band aids, noticing the cuts on Remy's neck. "I see you've already managed to get on Logan's bad side," he commented as he dabbed at one of the scratches.
Remy sucked in his breath at the sting of the iodine. When the sensation passed, he smiled in response to Dr. McCoy's statement, and said lightly, "non, we gon' get along jus' fine." Hank just shook his head and finished cleaning the wounds. When Remy refused bandages, he retreated back to his desk and his ever present research.
When he was sure the other man was out of earshot, Remy began speaking to Rogue again. He didn't really know why he talked to her in French- he knew she was studying it in school, but she wasn't fluent by any means- she'd complained about her poor grade in the course when they'd been up on the hill that night, discussing inconsequential things. But it somehow seemed right- some part of him felt that she really could understand him- maybe the little part of him that was inside her head could translate for her or something like that. And it made it easier for him to tell her things, knowing that other people probably didn't understand what he was saying.
He knew she was in there somewhere- the monitor was showing definite brain activity. So he told her what was going on- where she was, and the things that had happened, so that when she woke up, she wouldn't be scared and confused and clueless. Last night, he had told her about his conversation with the Professor, and his thoughts on the man; this morning, he told her about his encounter with Logan and the new nickname he'd managed to acquire from the man. He swallowed the last of the coffee, complaining to her about its poor quality, which somehow turned into a tale about living with the Acolytes, which led into tales from his childhood.
As he spoke to her, he couldn't help but marvel again at how beautiful she was. All the makeup had been washed off her face, and he smiled at the realization that she had a faint dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks- it had always been dark before, or she had been wearing makeup, so he'd never seen them before.
He found himself particularly fascinated with her hands as well- the skin so pale and smooth looking, always protected by her gloves. She had painted her nails a sparkly purple color, and he found himself oddly caught up on that one detail- what did it say about her as a person, that she painted her nails, even thought normally, no one would ever see them?
As he talked to her, she didn't stir; she seemed so small in the bed, dwarfed by the blankets, the force of her personality diminished somewhat in sleep. She looked soft and peaceful; so much of the prickly, hard exterior she assumed while awake melted away from her for him, and he knew he'd never see her the same way again, when she woke up. Despite her cold, snappish façade, she would always be in some part soft and peaceful to him, because he'd seen her this way. He refused to consider the possibility that this was the only way he'd ever see her again.
Remy was unaware of how much time had passed, until he heard a soft throat clearing sound behind him. Turning, he saw the Professor, waiting, behind him, and he said to Rogue ((your Professor wants to talk to you. I promise I'll be back.)) With feline grace, he rose from his chair, inclining his head to Xavier as he passed.
As he stepped out into the hallway, intending to stay and wait for the telepath to finish, he nearly tripped over Kitty, who was seated on the floor reading a book. "Y' jus' gon' camp out here til she wakes up?" He asked her, taking a seat next to her on the floor, and she nodded. "Yeah- there's, like, some stuff I really need to tell her."
Gently, he said "Y' know, y' can still tell her, petite- jus' cause she ain' answerin' don't mean she don' hear y'." But Kitty shook her head. "No, not for this- I really need her to be awake...." Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding the fear underlying her words. "Remy think we all do, petite," her replied.
They sat in an almost comfortable silence for a while, and Kitty went back to reading her book. Remy idly glanced over a the cover, and burst out laughing. Blushing, Kitty snapped "Oh shut up. I am so sick of everybody making fun of me for reading romance novels! I mean, like, at least I know how to read, unlike some people who only play video games all day-" Still laughing, Remy stopped her before she could get going into a full fledged rant. "Non, petite, Ah wasn't laughin' at y'- Remy jus' know de author, dat's all."
She looked disbelieving. "How would you know St. John Allerdyce? He's from, like, Australia!" She pointed at the author bio at the back of the book to emphasize her point. But Remy just laughed again. "Remy think y' know 'im too. De man's always wearin' dat orange coverall, got a crazy laugh, likes t' make animals outta fire.... Remy coulda swore y' met de man before."
She gave him a sour look. "Now you're totally just making fun of me. Evil mutants aren't romance writers!"
"He ain' evil- jus' crazy. Remy be tellin' y' true, petite- when he ain' settin' things on fire or watching dat cartoon channel, he be drinkin' beer and swearin' 'bout how he can't get de characters to cooperate wit' him." He didn't mention Pyro's other favorite activity- discussing his crush on Kitty's teammate.
She finally believed him. "Ohmigod, I fought someone famous! I wonder if he could autograph my books... Oh, wait, I guess not," she trailed off, remembering who the writer was working for. Making a face, she commented sarcastically "Magneto probably won't let him publish any more books- I mean, who has time for writing romance novels when your boss is working towards global domination?" She sighed. "And he's such a good writer, too..."
Remy pulled a face. "Don' know 'bout dat, petite. He be workin' on some new story wit' a coupla mutants in it, an he made Remy read de first coupla chapters when Remy lost a bet to 'im." He made another face, and Kitty laughed. "Rogue'll never let you live it down when she finds out you were reading a romance novel!"
"Who eva' said de femme gon' be findin' out?"
Kitty just smiled an evil little smile and laughed at him. At that moment, Kurt appeared in the hallway, bringing with him the distinct odor of sulfur, and his expression turned sour when he saw Kitty laughing with the Acolyte. Memories of his conversation with Rogue the weekend before came back to him, how she had said that sometimes people just ended up on the wrong side. He didn't want to be judgmental, didn't want to be full of hate for someone he didn't even know- but it was hard to give the man a chance when one of his closest friends was lying unconscious in the med bay with only the Acolyte's version of events to go by for explanation. Conflicted and irritated, he settled down on the floor across from Kitty. As irrational as it was, he grew more irritated at the sight of the book in her hands. _I know they had a fight, but she's reading romance novels and laughing at the Acolyte's jokes- doesn't she even care about Rogue at all?_
Caustically, he commented "Katzchen, vhy do you read those stupid things anyway?" and his mood didn't improve when Kitty and Remy shared a look and laughed again. He was so immersed in his ire that he didn't notice the forced, almost manic quality of Kitty's laughter, or the way Remy's eyes flicked to the med bay doors every few seconds.