X-Men: A New Battle, Part 5
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. Cyclops vs. Wolverine!!!! ::dramatic chord::
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.
Author's Note: Inspiration for the first part of this chapter comes from a match on X-Men: Mutant Academy. I would like to thank the Playstation gods, as I was completely stuck.
~*~
"That's my fiancée you've got your hands all over, in case you hadn't noticed, Logan," Scott spat angrily, hand coming to the side of his visor.
"Scott…" begged Jean, backing away from the two men. But she knew it was no use. She had no place in this fight, other than keeping them from killing each other. Tension had been building between them since the day they'd met. If they didn't fight over her, they'd fight over something sooner or later.
::Snikt, snikt:: Wolverine's claws appeared with a flick of each wrist. "I've been waitin' to kick yer ass for a long time now, bub. Looks like I finally got the chance."
"You're not going to get the chance," Cyclops shot back, firing a laser optic blast at the older man.
Wolverine leapt out of the way, letting the blast hit the bedside table. A lamp crashed to the ground as its support was reduced to splinters.
Wolverine lunged for Cyclops. He'd retracted his claws, more interested in a good ass-kicking than killing the man. Cyclops got in one good backwards kick-flip, connecting twice solidly with Logan's jaw. But the bruise disappeared as soon as it formed, thanks to his healing factor. The only thing it really succeeded in doing was making Wolverine angrier.
It was soon evident that the lean, well-built Team Leader was no match for the short, stocky, yet incredibly powerful Canadian in a "fair fight": no claws, no blasts. Scott could've killed Logan where he stood, with only a light touch to his armored temple. Of course, Logan could just as easily have gutted the young man in front of him. But neither did.
Wolverine punched Cyclops twice in the jaw, his admantium skeleton nearly breaking it. Scott drove his fist into Wolverine's unprotected stomach, swearing unintelligibly at him. Logan recovered quickly, grabbed a handful of Cyclops's hair, and rammed his face into the wall several times. He let go, and Scott's tall frame sunk to the floor heavily.
Logan pushed a lock of sweaty, thick dark hair out of his forehead, staring at what he'd done. There was blood on his fingers- he sniffed it- Cyke's, not his. How did that get there?
He looked over at Jean. Tears were running down her angelic face as she stared at her unconscious lover. Suddenly, Logan was sorry for what he'd done.
"Jeannie, I-"
She cut him off without a word, bright, misty eyes burning into his own. She slapped him across the face with every ounce of her might, the sound echoing around the room for an eternity. She stormed off without another glance at him or at Scott.
~*~
Rogue was having trouble sleeping.
For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to Remy, the man she'd met in the diner two days ago. She was frustrated at herself for it, but she found herself wondering what color his eyes were beneath his glasses, or hearing his low, almost hypnotic voice and its throaty "she-yah," or seeing his face with its almost aristocratic, undeniably Acadian features.
Get a hold a' yerself, Marie, she told herself. Gotta get up, Ah'll go crazy if Ah stay heah. What the hell's wrong with me, anyway? He's just a guy, and Ah only just met him.
She plodded down to the kitchen and started to make a cup of tea, feeling around in the dark rather than turning on a light.
"Who's there?" demanded a gravelly voice.
"Logan! It's just me." Rogue followed the voice into the dining room. She flicked on a light to see the big man slumped over the table dejectedly, being patted on the arm in a gesture of comfort by a small girl, slightly younger than Rogue herself.
Marie narrowed her eyes at the her, recognizing the dark-haired girl immediately. Jubilation Lee, also known as Jubilee, had the ability to create fireworks, which spewed from her hands. That was the cause of the large pink sunglasses perpetually on her forehead; they protected her bright blue eyes from her blinding 'pafs.'
"Hi, Jubilee."
She looked up boldly. "Hey, Rogue." She was also radiating another message: Stay away from Logan, he's mine.
Marie almost laughed out loud, but simply nodded, acknowledging her name.
Jubilee went back to her previous job of comforting. "It'll be ok, Wolvie. Jean doesn't, like, hate you or anything, I'm totally sure."
Wolvie? Rogue had a harder time holding back the laughter that time. "You alright, Logan?" she asked instead.
Jubilee sent her a dirty look, the kind that only teenagers may give.
"No."
"Anythin' Ah can get ya?"
"Beer."
Rogue sighed but obliged.
"You seen Cyke lately?" asked Wolverine.
She'd stopped in the Med Lab after dinner. "Yeah, he's… lookin' bettah." It was a lie, and Logan could tell.
"What's he really look like?"
"Honestly… he looks like hell. What'd ya do ta him?"
"Banged him into the door a couple times," he mumbled. "He attacked me first."
"But as Ah understand, ya were kissin' Jean-"
Jubilee's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. "You were?"
"Jubilation!"
"Hush, kid."
Jubilee pouted.
"Ah wouldn't worry too much 'bout Cyclops, Logan," said Rogue as she finished her tea and stood. "He'll heal."
"It ain't Cyke I'm worried about," Wolverine muttered. "It's Jean."
But Rogue didn't hear.
She was already halfway to her room, and once she reached her bed she promptly fell asleep under the thick covers.
She dreamt of Logan bashing in Scott's face, until he healed and turned into Remy. She walked next to him, her bare hand in his.
Then she woke up and was Rogue again.
~*~
Rogue checked herself in the mirror for the tenth time, was finally satisfied, and eagerly ran out of her room, down the steps, and-
-right into none other than Robert Drake.
"Marie! Hi! You ready to go see that movie?"
"Uh, actually, sugah, Ah can't."
His face fell. She felt sick to her stomach just looking at him. "Why not?"
Ah really don't wanna lie ta him… but Ah guess Ah gotta. "Ah told ya befoh, sugah, don't ya remembah?"
"What?" Bobby was thoroughly confused.
"Ah told ya…" What had she told him? "Ah have a major paper due Monday, and now's the only time Ah can go ta the library."
"Whose class?" he asked suspiciously.
"Dr. Grey's," she answered, praying that Jean would still back her up. "Ah told ya all this two days ago. Remembah?"
Bobby's face scrunched up in an effort to recall. He absent-mindedly ran a hand through sandy-blond hair. "Yeah, I… I guess I do."
She smiled at him, hating herself for doing this behind his back. It was like she was cheating on him or something. Might as well take it one step further. "Can Ah borrow yer car, Bobby? Ah don't have a way ta get there."
"Sure." He pulled the keys to his beat-up, ancient green Taurus out of his pocket. It was hardly a car, more like an experiment in unsafe transportation. But it would get her where she wanted to go.
"Thanks, sugah." She ruffled his hair with a gloved hand.
She arrived at the library at 6:45. She grabbed a thick book on mythology, opened it on a table in front of her, and daydreamed.
Suddenly he was right next to her, speaking softly into her ear. "Hey, chére. Remy wasn' so sure y'd show."
"Ah said Ah would, didn't Ah, sugah?"
He grinned. "Dat y'did, chérie." He leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks, as per the French tradition.
Marie nearly fell off her chair in trying to avoid him. A confused look crossed his face. It had evidently been a long time since a woman had turned him down on any level.
"Sorry," she apologized hastily, blushing as she smoothed out her skirt.
"'S alright." He offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"
She took it, giggling despite herself. "We shall."
Remy led her to a white vintage Cadillac, in near-perfect condition. Where on earth would he get such a nice car? Marie wondered. Something clicked in her mind. Unless he… "Ya didn't steal it, did ya?"
"Chére! I'm hurt!" He opened the passenger door for her, then went around to get in himself. "So I take it y'got m'note."
"Yeah," she said distractedly. She looked around the leather interior of the car. It smelled lightly of cigarette smoke. She spotted half a pack lying on the dashboard. A smoker. Gross. Maybe Ah could convince him ta-
"Chére?"
"Hm?"
"I said, d'y'got a pro'lem wit' me bein' a t'ief?"
"If Ah had a big problem with it, Ah wouldn't be heah, now would Ah, sugah?"
He smiled, and took a hand from the wheel to place it on her own.
"Did ya steal it?'
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "De guy was… corrupt. Deserved it."
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Ah bet just about every thief says exactly that."
"Non, I'm serious, chére. I'm a reg'lar Robin Hood, don' y'know. Steal from de rich. I jus' never get 'round t'de 'give t'de poor' part."
She didn't reply, merely shook her head in astonishment. She decided to change the subject. "So where're we goin'?"
"T'ought mebbe we take a nice lil' walk in de park, den get a bite t'eat. Sound good?"
"Sounds great."
Remy parked at the side of the curb, then walked around to open Marie's door for her.
The park was nearly empty, the only other occupants being an elderly couple taking a stroll and a group of pre-teen boys playing soccer. The sun was in the process of setting, and a crisp breeze rattled the dry leaves on the trees.
Remy still wore his dark sunglasses, although it must have been extremely difficult to see through them in the rapidly darkening dusk.
"Don't ya evah take off those glasses?" Marie asked, frustration showing through her curiosity.
"Non."
"Why not?"
"M'eyes, dey're sensitive t'de light."
Now there's a cheap cop-out if Ah evah heard one. "Whatevah ya say, Remy."
She kept staring up at his face, not taking her eyes off the reflective dark glasses as they walked. Eventually, her hand shot up to grab them playfully, but his hand was quicker and closed firmly around her wrist.
"I said no, chére."
"Oh, yer no fun."
They walked a while longer in silence, until Remy abruptly broke away, settling himself under a gnarled old black walnut tree. Marie stood above him, staring down with her hands planted on her hips.
"Ya promised me a walk, ya lazy swamp rat." She kicked his ankle playfully, unable to stop the grin on her face.
"We wen' on a walk already. 'M tired." He stared right back up at her, returning the grin lopsidedly. "Join me down here, why don' y'?"
She hesitantly sat down cross-legged a couple feet away.
He chuckled, patting the ground beside him. "I meant come here. I won' bite y', chére, I promise."
She did so nervously, very aware of his arm suddenly around her waist, his warm body very close to her own.
"Dere now, was dat so bad?"
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Ah guess not."
He lifted a hand to brush her white-streaked hair out of her face. She immediately tensed; his hand dropped back down. She breathed a sigh of relief.
The sun had finished setting; it was now officially night.
"Ya gonna take off those things now?" Marie teased him, lightly tapping the side of his sunglasses.
He jerked away. "Non."
"Aw, come on. Ah just wanna see-" He swatted her hands away irritably. "When can Ah see 'em?"
He smirked. "When I can touch y'- wit'out y'gloves."
Marie froze. Just drive a knife through mah heart, why don't ya, Remy? She looked away, focusing on a browning tuft of grass several yards away.
"I was jus' jokin', chére."
She ignored his statement, caught up in her own thoughts. Ah should tell him, it's only fair… She took a deep breath. "Ya can't evah touch me, Remy."
He frowned. "Quoi?"
"Ah-" She managed to keep her tenacious hold on her composure. "Ah'm a mutant."
"Oh, chére, y't'ink dat matters t'me? I like y'jus' de same, mutan', human-"
"No, ya don't understand. Mah powers, Ah… absorb the mind a' anyone Ah touch. Memories, feelin's, powers, abilities, knowledge… everythin'. Ah… kissed a boy once. He went into a coma. Ah nevah forgave myself…"
Remy held her tighter to him. "Why'n't y'tell Remy dis? All dis time I t'ought y'din' like me or somet'in'."
She shook her head against the leather coat. "Ah just didn't want ya ta think Ah was some sorta freak," she told him quietly. "And also, most guys aren't wantin' some girl they can't even touch."
"I ain' most guys, chére." He took her gloved hand and held her first two fingers to his lips, letting them linger a moment longer than necessary. He then put her fingers to her own lips, holding them there for the same length of time.
Somehow, there was more feeling and romance in that one gesture than there could possibly be in a hundred true kisses.