Disclaimer: The characters used in this story do not belong to me, and I am not making any money from their use. The X-men belong to Marvel comics, and no copyright infringement is intended. Desperado belongs to the Eagles, as far as I'm concerned, no matter who else redoes it. I'm just borrowing the lyrics for this story.
Desperado
The morning was every bit as dull and grey as Rogue's mood. If she'd woken up to a bright, sunny daybreak, it might have been enough to override the melancholy that had set in the night before. But the thick, drizzly cloud cover was the perfect setting for her to wallow in it, which is exactly what she was doing. Wearing comfortable beat-up jeans, a favorite thick sweater, and of course the omnipresent gloves, she was curled into a chair, staring morosely out her window at the lethargic raindrops listlessly dropping from the sullen sky.
Somehow, for reasons she couldn't formulate or completely understand, everything had come to a head the night before. She's been sitting on the couch with Remy, carefully keeping her distance despite his instinctive attempts to cuddle, watching a sweetly romantic comedy, and the futility of it all just hit her like a tidal wave. Well, actually it had snuck up on her in the form of a sulky withdrawal into her own thoughts, and once her subconscious had brooded over it sufficiently, it had hit her like a tidal wave. The more the movie went on, the less attention she found herself paying to it. She didn't need a stupid flick to remind her some people were happy and could have normal lives. She didn't need the mockery of Remy sitting there watching it with her, pretending they were some kind of normal couple. She didn't need the whole charade of their "relationship," now that she thought about it. What was the point? What was he trying to prove with this? Why was she playing along with his idiotic game? The questions gnawed at her, distracting her enough that she missed the rest of even the fairly simple plot of the stupidly cheery movie. By the time the credits started, complete with some vapidly optimistic love song, when Remy turned to her with the most innocent comment, she couldn't even remember now what it had been, she'd exploded. She'd shoved him across the couch, a little harder than she'd really meant to, and ranted on the verge of incoherence for a few minutes as he stared at her with incredulous shock all over his face. She's asked him all the questions floating around in her head, offering no chance for answers or even for processing the requests. She'd berated him for how stupid he was, told him exactly how stupid she was, and added on how stupid the movie she'd barely been watching had been, just for good measure. She'd reached conclusions on the spot, hearing them as they fell from her lips, not caring if they went along with what had led up to them, freely contradicting herself in the flow of verbalized raw emotion. Remy had sat silently under this tirade, either speechless from her vehemence or simply unable to get a word in edgewise around her torrent. She'd finally ended with a repeated assertion of how stupid everything was, a declaration that she didn't want anything further to do with him, a command to leave her alone, and a hurried flourish of an exit.
Remy was unfortunately all too used to these fits. Not to say that it didn't concern him a little, because it did, every single time she did this. He just contented himself with the fact that she would be okay in the morning, at least she always had been before. He calmly accepted that he would toss and turn for a while tonight as he tried to fall asleep, wondering if she really meant it this time, what he could do to keep from upsetting her like this, if he was doing something so terribly wrong as to warrant it, why she couldn't just accept the way things were for them. It was part of the price of loving her, something he was willing to pay because the good times made up for it and simply because he couldn't help but love her, fits and all. So Remy had gone to bed that night, lain awake for a while worrying about her outburst, and eventually fallen asleep, knowing that a night's sleep and a fresh day would set everything right again between them.
Which is why, when she didn't emerge from her room the next morning, he began to be seriously concerned. Had she really finally meant it this time? Why now? What had he done to precipitate it that had been enough to make it so final? Was the relationship still salvageable? What could he do to save it? What more did she want from him than his complete devotion through all the problems, all the fits, all the insecurities and anger? What more could he offer her, could she expect anyone to offer her? Maybe all she needed was something to prove it all to her, some token or gesture she had to trust, something to get through her doubts. Nothing had been working so far because nothing was changing, and he wasn't sure what he could do now that would get through to her.
A strange idea slowly drifted across his thoughts, so strange it was either brilliant inspiration or ludicrous idiocy, either of which he was more than happy to accept at this point. Detachedly bemused, he set out to find Logan and try it, figuring anything was preferable to just letting her brood.
The hall was strangely silent; the only sound in the room was the soft patter of the slow rain against the window glass. Rogue rather liked it, the silence offering nothing to detract from the despondency she was willingly immersing herself in. Dull morning wore smoothly into dreary afternoon, and still she remained in her self-imposed isolation, pulling the dejection around her like a sodden blanket that only served to chill her further. She focused for a while on the absence of noise, almost pleased that the world had yielded and conformed to her mood. Then softly, she heard music begin in the next room.
It was soft and familiar, one of those songs everyone knows and consequently no one really listens to. The poignancy of her thoughts, the stillness around her, something made her actually hear the words that she had always glossed over before.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? You've been out ridin' fences for so long now.
The voice was gentle, a sweet entreating drawl. Funny, she'd never figured Betsy for the Eagles type, but the music sounded like it was coming from her room. She was about to get distracted puzzling over that when the next phrase caught her hard and she was helpless to do anything but listen and feel.
You're a hard one. I know that you got your reasons. These things that are pleasin' you have hurt you somehow.
She'd never realized before how much he seemed to be singing to her...
Don't you draw the Queen of Diamonds, boy, she'll beat you if she's able. The Queen of Hearts is always your best bet.
Or how much that sounded like something Remy would say, finding cards in everything.
Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, but you only want the ones that you can't get.
"That ain't fair," she muttered back at it. "Ah should be allowed to want..." But the soft, soothing voice and piano went on without waiting for her to finish.
Desperado, you ain't gettin' no younger. Your pain and your hunger are drivin' you home. Freedom, oh freedom! That's just somethin' t' talk about. Your prison is walking' through this world all alone.
Without even realizing she was crying, Rogue felt a tear trace its way down her cheek. She'd never wanted to admit that. All her walls, all her hardness, building up her independence was just bricking up the walls that kept her in that prison.
Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime? The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine; it's hard to tell the nighttime from the day. You're losin' all your highs and lows, ain't it funny how the feelin' goes away?
The tears were coming freely now, a release from the passive numbness that had held her all day.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
She had heard no one in the hall, but there was a soft click of a latch turning, and her door began to swing slowly inwards. She turned her head to protest the intrusion, but her voice wouldn't come through the tears. Besides, she knew who it had to be, and he wasn't intruding. He was saving her.
Come down off your fences and open the gate.
It opened the rest of the way, and Remy stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.
It may be raining, but there's a rainbow above you.
One look at the emotion in his eyes, and she knew it wasn't Betsy's music after all.
You better let somebody love you...
She didn't know how it happened because she didn't even remember standing up, but she found herself wrapped in his loving arms, crying softly against his chest. His hand gently stroked her hair, and she could feel his cheek pressing against the top of her head as he cradled her against him. "Remy," she whispered, tracing one gloved finger down his cheek and neck, "thank you." In response, he just tightened his hold on her, and she thought she felt his body trembling along with her slowly calming choked breaths.
Better let somebody love you...before it's too late.