Jean swallowed.
She swallowed, and swallowed again thirty seconds later. This was to be her routine for another nine minutes. She gripped the gin glass and brought it shakily to her peach lips. The smell was beginning to make her sick.
"Ugh, I can't!" She pursed her lips, disgusted.
"No way," Bobby protested. "The dare was one sip every thirty seconds for fifteen minutes."
Jean's face hinted at a peculiar shade of mint. "Oh God," she moaned, swallowing once again.
"Alright," Warren said, turning back to the group. Ororo, Remy, his brother Bobby, and the unfortunate Jean met his gaze. "Truth or dare... Bobby."
Bobby stiffened. "Gee, Warren, truth I suppose, considering the last time I chose dare with you was in the tenth grade and you made me streak across the courthouse lawn!"
"Settle," Warren said flippantly, sipping his own drink. He tapped his watch and winked at Jean. She rolled her eyes and tipped her own glass for another excruciating sip. "Truth, huh? Hmm, let's see." He pinched his chin. "Truthfully, where did you lose your virginity?"
Bobby paled. "Uh, Warren, I thought we'd never discuss that again for the rest of our lives." He mumbled through gritted teeth.
Ororo's eyebrows perked in interest. "Do tell."
The youngest Worthington sighed, defeated. "Alright, alright. God." He sighed. "Well, there we were, in my personal hot tub, the bubbles were floating, the champagne was flowing-"
"The truth, Bobby."
Bobby shot Warren a pained look. "Aw c'mon!" Warren's glare was icy. "Alright, for God's sake!" He cleared his throat. "I was kind of on the school tennis team, and it was sort of Co-Ed and everything. Well one night, me and this girl were putting the rackets and everything away and well... one thing led to another."
"And I'm ashamed to say my brother was robbed of his innocence in a smelly, ratty old equipment room, the poor girl probably experiencing her first orgasm with the long end of a racket gouging into her hip." Warren shook his head sadly.
Bobby jerked his chin defiantly. "Next!" He barked, and eyed the room suspiciously. Who would be his first victim? Who had the fattest story to tell? Warren, no way. He had as much story as a piece of toast. Jean, maybe but it wasn't likely- just your typical daddy's girl. Besides, she was becoming too smashed to tell up from down. Storm definitely had some points of interest, but Bobby didn't want to risk striking a nerve and then getting hell beat out of him by his brother, who no matter what he said had a thing for that woman.
That left, "Gambit!"
Remy, who was stretched on the length of the couch, looked up from his bowed position and pegged daring eyes on Bobby. "Yeah?"
Bobby hesitated. "Truth or Dare."
Remy clenched his teeth. "Truth."
A silent gasp permeated the room. Remy and truth didn't belong in the same room, let alone in the same sentence. Bobby was prepared, though. "What did you do before the X-Men?"
Silence surrounded every occupant of the room, even Jean who suddenly became sober with her hiccups coming to an abrupt end. The grandfather clock in the corner shot off bellowing ticks that echoed through the eerie quiet like a piercing scream in the middle of space.
He sat up. "It isn't nice." He warned.
They nodded their heads collectively. "We've all done some things we are not proud of."
Remy nodded to Ororo and she simply smiled back, a smile possessing that gloomy beautiful only few can perfect. He continued. "I was poor six years ago. I'm twenty-seven, now, so you do de math." He lit a cigarette for whatever purpose. "When you're poor, you'll do anyt'ing for money, understand." Ororo nodded, a swell of respect growing in her for this man. "I hate myself for what I did, but I can't change it, I know. You see," he shifted, "in New Orleans, there are women. Lots of women that are willing to do t'ings- anyt'ing for food and a place to sleep."
He exhaled a tail of smoke that clouded his eyes. "Dat's what I did. I offered dem clothes on deir backs and food in deir bellies for... certain services."
Ororo's eyes flashed, all respect swallowed with a horrifying shock. She stared, jaw agape and speechless for a moment. "You were a pimp," came her words slow and knowing.
He met her eyes. "I was a monster. But I was also starving."
Her perfect jaw clenched. In one swift movement, she shot from the couch and stormed out of the room, rain pelting the rooftops and replacing the previous glorious summer day.
Scott stood before the round briefing table, Wanda seated at his right. Logan and Rogue sat on opposite ends, listening to him with more attentiveness than they led on. "I contacted Xavier this morning... finally," Scott added dryly. "He's extremely perturbed with the idea of his house harboring a murderer, and has allowed you to stay as long as you'd like. He'd like very much to return home immediately, but circumstances insist he stay for at least one more day. He sends his regards and hopes-"
The briefing room door burst open, accompanied by a chilling gust of wind.
All turned to behold the furious Storm approach, eyes white as a celestial abyss. "Did he know?" Scott confronted her, concerned for his teammate.
"Did who know what, Ororo?"
"Did Xavier know what Remy was before he invited him into his home?" A silent beat and exchanged looks. "Did he!"
Wanda shivered and rubbed her arms. "What are you talking about?" She demanded behind Scott.
The wind subsided and Ororo's frame relaxed. Wordlessly, she spun on her heel and stalked out the door, her snowy hair waving like an angry banner behind her.
**
Bobby held his five fanned cards with two shaky hands. He peered over his two Aces, two fours, and one three at Logan, who took a quick swig of his beer.
"Okay, um, what do ya' got?" Bobby called across the small round table. Logan's eyes met him through the thick hazy cloud of smoke escaping his cigar tip and hovering over the table.
"Aren't you gonna bid?"
Bobby smacked his forehead. "Oh yeah! Whoops. Um, here," he proceeded to shove half of his pile into the center. "That much. I'd say it's about... forty bucks."
Logan smirked. He wouldn't feel half bad about robbing this kid.
The door to the Rec. Room flew open to herald an angel. Warren stalked to the center of the room, his eyes wild. "Bobby! Have you seen Ororo anywhere? I've checked all over!"
Bobby averted his eyes from his hand for a moment to glance at his Rolex. "Warren, it's one in the morning, and it's pouring outside. Get to sleep, get some food, do something but go away, 'cause I'm about two seconds away from making my move." He squirmed anxiously in his chair.
Warren glanced idly at his brother's cards and scoffed. "Seriously, Bobby. Have you seen her? I went to her room but she wasn't there. I know she didn't leave though."
Logan spoke. "How do you know that?"
His voice was nearly frantic as he turned to regard Wolverine. "Because, nothing's missing except her shoes."
Logan shrugged. "Sometimes that's all you need."
Warren stood, dumbfounded for a moment, then darted back out the door. He hustled to his car, ignoring the chubby raindrops splashing on his face and matting his blonde hair. He fired the engine and left nothing but the light cast from his taillights as he charged head-on into the night.
**
Behind the mansion was a garden beyond comparison. When Rogue asked him once, Xavier confessed that after he lost the use of his legs he never hired anybody to care for it in his stead, so it grew wild. It was simply magnificent, with tiny vines that slithered across the thick grass and around the legs of the stone benches and tangled flowers hanging loose on the gates or still blooming in dainty rows across the brown earth. Ororo, the green thumb of the household, had decided to begin another garden behind another wing of the mansion so beautiful was this plot of land untouched. It echoed with the abstract sound of joy and peace and the water that once ran through the stone fountains with sad-faced cherubs looming over them like guardians against any evil that dare enter the premises.
The small sentinels performed their job well, for no evil lurked in the garden, only heaven.
Rogue was currently relaxing in one of the several fountains that had been left to run dry, her head tipped back against a lovely little stone girl spurting invisible water from her round cheeks.
The southern native sighed and lolled her head listlessly. The summer heat made a slick blanket of perspiration on her milky skin and her eyelids grew heavy under the sun's persuasion.
She let her mind wander. Where was she when Ororo left? Reading in her room. Damn. And when Warren left? Asleep, like the rest of the sane world. Now he was on a wild goose chase because Rogue knew, she just knew, that a woman like Ororo would never come back. Women like Ororo just arrive, love, and leave, a trail of broken hearts and even the most powerful become sorrow-stricken men falling to their knees with their heads in her lap and begging her to stay, that he'll take care of her 'til the day he's buried in the ground, that he'll love her forever. The last part is true- he will love her forever, but Ororo doesn't need a man to take care of her. She's as beautiful as a star plucked from heaven and as strong as the fiercest winds.
Rogue slightly pitied Warren. Poor boy had just never met a woman like her. She wasn't an Ivy League princess spoon fed the world in moderate proportions. Maybe he should take a notice at Jean.
Rogue shook her head. No, that wasn't fair. Jean had never done anything to make the professional secret agent dislike her. But all the same, something about the wide-eyed, naïve baby girl put Rogue on edge. Sort of the way Wanda did. But Wanda was different entirely. She flaunted her money where Jean gave subtle, silent clues that yeah, maybe she could afford some nice things in her life. Rogue once thought Wanda and Jean were very similar indeed, but soon discovered that instead of naïve and dreamy, Wanda was simply spoiled and childish, her father's bank accounts acting as a protective shield between her and the real world.
"Is dis private time, or can I interrupt?"
"You've got some nerve, showin' up heuh." Rogue said shortly.
Remy nodded. "Dat's very true, but I live dangerously."
She opened her eyes finally and gave him a brief glance over. He stood his ground, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. His shoulders slumped. "Look, chere... Rogue. I'm sorry about all dis shit. I'm a hypocrite, I know. I hated it when you didn't tell me about bein' a cop, but I was an ass when I didn't tell you about de t'ings I did in de past."
Rogue nodded slowly. "I won't say it's alraght, because it's not yet, but soon."
He perched on the edge of her fountain, turning uncomfortably to hold eye contact. "So now you know where I learned literature."
Rogue's eyebrows rose over closed eyes. "Hmm, how is that?"
He folded his legs on the stone edge. "I had a girl," he smiled musingly, "Marigold. She was a nice little t'ing," his eyes fell and his voice was solemn, "I hated having to work her, but she didn't let it bot'er her. She just held her head high and came back in de morning with enough cash to feed her." He sighed. "She was a literature buff but she couldn't afford college; we got to talking one day and over the next three years she taught me a hell of a lot more than I ever taught her dat's for sure." He smiled bitterly. "Dat girl was going places. Damn, she was such a better person dan I was. De only person dat could make me love and hate myself at de same time."
Rogue was silent, letting Remy slip from his reverie. "It's getting' a lil cold. I'm goin' in." He rose slowly but before disappearing behind a wall of wax-green hanging ivy he turned as if deciding on something and said, " 'O! Would that we were lying side by side in the same grave, hand in hand, and from time to time, in the darkness, gently caressing a finger-that would suffice for my eternity!'" He paused. "Victor Hugo."
Rogue bit her lip.
**
Jean's cheeks expanded as she blew a gust of breath onto the tiny flickering candle nestled into the chocolate frosting of the large cupcake. A tendril of smoke rose from where the extinguished flame existed.
Approaching footsteps prompted her to hide the cupcake in a secure cubby under the coffee table at her knees.
Scott appeared at the door. He grinned upon seeing her. "Oh hi!" He made his way to the coffee table on the far side of the room and retrieved a magazine. He stopped and tilted his head to the air. "Do you smel-"
"Smell what?" Jean replied quickly. Scott was no fool.
He eyed her suspiciously and neared her. His nose followed the scent of burnt wick and he discovered her treasure under the table. He held it. "What... is this?" He grinned.
She snatched it. "It's mine, that's what it is." She proceeded to pluck the candle from the center and toss it on the coffee table, plunging her teeth into the sweet treat. He looked on amused and she swallowed. "It's my birthday." She said finally.
"Ah," he said, nodding. "Well happy birthday! How many is it now? Forty-one, forty-two?"
"Ha ha," she muttered and took another bite. "What's the scoop on 'Ro?"
"We're not really sure. Warren just called and said he's pretty sure he's narrowed down the manhunt to a small town just about forty miles north of here. He's going to go and check it out."
"Riveting," Jean said, swallowing the last of her cupcake. He suppressed a smile at the smeared chocolate on the corner of her mouth. "What?" Jean asked.
His lips curved and he moved to wipe it off. Jean nearly shuddered at the feel of his rough thumb brushing against her moist lips. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.
He swallowed, her mouth velvety under his touch. The gap between them miraculously disappeared and Scott's mind flooded with thoughts of pressing his eager mouth hard against hers and then taking her right there on the library couch. He was swallowed by the sinful impulse to hear her moan his name under him.
Before reality kicked him in the face, their mouths were barely brushing and she sighed when he placed a tentative hand on her hip. The sweet contact of her breath on his parted lips wrenched him from blissful abandon and he snapped back.
Jerking away, he mumbled something she couldn't make out. "What?" She repeated.
"I can't!" He said frantically, his wedding vows ringing loud in his ears. He was back beside her but this time to stare her in the eye and speak flatly. "We can't. I'm married and don't get me wrong! You're beautiful, but this could never happen. Not ever." He muttered it again, but this time obviously to himself and then turned to leave. Jean fell back onto the couch.
Damnit! She knew, she knew all along! He was married; he'd always been married. What made her think she could just erase that little triviality? No matter. She wasn't here to fall in... lust. In fact, that was the last thing she would do if she were smart, but hearts have an ethical code all their own. Jean laughed at a sour irony. It was a good thing she didn't love Scott, because if she DID love him, which she definitely did NOT, then he would have just broken her heart and that would be too funny not to smile at: the Heartbreaker getting her own heart broken. So it was a good thing she didn't love Scott and an even better thing he didn't love her. A very good thing.
**
Rogue toweled her russet colored locks vigorously. Clad in a bathrobe, she exited her bathroom and tossed the wet towel onto her bed. Idly, she noticed something she didn't remember being there before she showered. Nudging the towel aside, she saw the green cover of what appeared to be a book. She picked it up. It was indeed a book: Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Smiling in curious awe, she opened the cover and a slip of paper fell out.
Thought you might like it. I love it.
~Remy
Rogue laughed out loud, tapping the piece of paper on the book thoughtfully.
She knocked on Remy's door. He opened it and leaned into the doorframe. "Yes?" He grinned impishly. She held the book up.
"Ah gotta know. Whatevah happened to that girl?"
"Marigold?"
"Yeah, her." Rogue clarified.
Remy blinked. Was she actually giving him a chance at forgiveness? He kind of hoped so. "I donated a portion of my weekly profits to send her to school myself. I stayed in de business until she graduated and den I left."
"Where is she now?" Rogue asked quietly.
He shrugged. "Couldn't tell you, chere. I haven't spoken to anyone from that part of my life since I left. I don't t'ink I could ever face her again. I doubt she'd want to see how her old pimp was holding up." He looked away, more than a little embarrassed and ashamed.
Rogue admired this man at that moment, and she didn't know if that thrilled or scared her more.
~AUTHOR'S Endless Input~
Thanks to all you that review. You guys are so awesome! Every single review is good to have and I cherish it so much. I know a lot of you were surprised with Jean being the Heartbreaker; I wanted to make it subtle but not obscure. I'm thrilled that you guys like the idea of making the Animals song into a story. I love the storyline I've created for it; I just hope I'll be able to pull it off, but with your guys' wonderful encouragement I know I'll never be led in the wrong direction.
Once again, please, please REVIEW! It means the world to me and I really appreciate it.
SORRY this chapter is short but another one is in the works. I wanted to end it here thought because I can't really break up the next segment anywhere and it's kind of long.
She swallowed, and swallowed again thirty seconds later. This was to be her routine for another nine minutes. She gripped the gin glass and brought it shakily to her peach lips. The smell was beginning to make her sick.
"Ugh, I can't!" She pursed her lips, disgusted.
"No way," Bobby protested. "The dare was one sip every thirty seconds for fifteen minutes."
Jean's face hinted at a peculiar shade of mint. "Oh God," she moaned, swallowing once again.
"Alright," Warren said, turning back to the group. Ororo, Remy, his brother Bobby, and the unfortunate Jean met his gaze. "Truth or dare... Bobby."
Bobby stiffened. "Gee, Warren, truth I suppose, considering the last time I chose dare with you was in the tenth grade and you made me streak across the courthouse lawn!"
"Settle," Warren said flippantly, sipping his own drink. He tapped his watch and winked at Jean. She rolled her eyes and tipped her own glass for another excruciating sip. "Truth, huh? Hmm, let's see." He pinched his chin. "Truthfully, where did you lose your virginity?"
Bobby paled. "Uh, Warren, I thought we'd never discuss that again for the rest of our lives." He mumbled through gritted teeth.
Ororo's eyebrows perked in interest. "Do tell."
The youngest Worthington sighed, defeated. "Alright, alright. God." He sighed. "Well, there we were, in my personal hot tub, the bubbles were floating, the champagne was flowing-"
"The truth, Bobby."
Bobby shot Warren a pained look. "Aw c'mon!" Warren's glare was icy. "Alright, for God's sake!" He cleared his throat. "I was kind of on the school tennis team, and it was sort of Co-Ed and everything. Well one night, me and this girl were putting the rackets and everything away and well... one thing led to another."
"And I'm ashamed to say my brother was robbed of his innocence in a smelly, ratty old equipment room, the poor girl probably experiencing her first orgasm with the long end of a racket gouging into her hip." Warren shook his head sadly.
Bobby jerked his chin defiantly. "Next!" He barked, and eyed the room suspiciously. Who would be his first victim? Who had the fattest story to tell? Warren, no way. He had as much story as a piece of toast. Jean, maybe but it wasn't likely- just your typical daddy's girl. Besides, she was becoming too smashed to tell up from down. Storm definitely had some points of interest, but Bobby didn't want to risk striking a nerve and then getting hell beat out of him by his brother, who no matter what he said had a thing for that woman.
That left, "Gambit!"
Remy, who was stretched on the length of the couch, looked up from his bowed position and pegged daring eyes on Bobby. "Yeah?"
Bobby hesitated. "Truth or Dare."
Remy clenched his teeth. "Truth."
A silent gasp permeated the room. Remy and truth didn't belong in the same room, let alone in the same sentence. Bobby was prepared, though. "What did you do before the X-Men?"
Silence surrounded every occupant of the room, even Jean who suddenly became sober with her hiccups coming to an abrupt end. The grandfather clock in the corner shot off bellowing ticks that echoed through the eerie quiet like a piercing scream in the middle of space.
He sat up. "It isn't nice." He warned.
They nodded their heads collectively. "We've all done some things we are not proud of."
Remy nodded to Ororo and she simply smiled back, a smile possessing that gloomy beautiful only few can perfect. He continued. "I was poor six years ago. I'm twenty-seven, now, so you do de math." He lit a cigarette for whatever purpose. "When you're poor, you'll do anyt'ing for money, understand." Ororo nodded, a swell of respect growing in her for this man. "I hate myself for what I did, but I can't change it, I know. You see," he shifted, "in New Orleans, there are women. Lots of women that are willing to do t'ings- anyt'ing for food and a place to sleep."
He exhaled a tail of smoke that clouded his eyes. "Dat's what I did. I offered dem clothes on deir backs and food in deir bellies for... certain services."
Ororo's eyes flashed, all respect swallowed with a horrifying shock. She stared, jaw agape and speechless for a moment. "You were a pimp," came her words slow and knowing.
He met her eyes. "I was a monster. But I was also starving."
Her perfect jaw clenched. In one swift movement, she shot from the couch and stormed out of the room, rain pelting the rooftops and replacing the previous glorious summer day.
Scott stood before the round briefing table, Wanda seated at his right. Logan and Rogue sat on opposite ends, listening to him with more attentiveness than they led on. "I contacted Xavier this morning... finally," Scott added dryly. "He's extremely perturbed with the idea of his house harboring a murderer, and has allowed you to stay as long as you'd like. He'd like very much to return home immediately, but circumstances insist he stay for at least one more day. He sends his regards and hopes-"
The briefing room door burst open, accompanied by a chilling gust of wind.
All turned to behold the furious Storm approach, eyes white as a celestial abyss. "Did he know?" Scott confronted her, concerned for his teammate.
"Did who know what, Ororo?"
"Did Xavier know what Remy was before he invited him into his home?" A silent beat and exchanged looks. "Did he!"
Wanda shivered and rubbed her arms. "What are you talking about?" She demanded behind Scott.
The wind subsided and Ororo's frame relaxed. Wordlessly, she spun on her heel and stalked out the door, her snowy hair waving like an angry banner behind her.
**
Bobby held his five fanned cards with two shaky hands. He peered over his two Aces, two fours, and one three at Logan, who took a quick swig of his beer.
"Okay, um, what do ya' got?" Bobby called across the small round table. Logan's eyes met him through the thick hazy cloud of smoke escaping his cigar tip and hovering over the table.
"Aren't you gonna bid?"
Bobby smacked his forehead. "Oh yeah! Whoops. Um, here," he proceeded to shove half of his pile into the center. "That much. I'd say it's about... forty bucks."
Logan smirked. He wouldn't feel half bad about robbing this kid.
The door to the Rec. Room flew open to herald an angel. Warren stalked to the center of the room, his eyes wild. "Bobby! Have you seen Ororo anywhere? I've checked all over!"
Bobby averted his eyes from his hand for a moment to glance at his Rolex. "Warren, it's one in the morning, and it's pouring outside. Get to sleep, get some food, do something but go away, 'cause I'm about two seconds away from making my move." He squirmed anxiously in his chair.
Warren glanced idly at his brother's cards and scoffed. "Seriously, Bobby. Have you seen her? I went to her room but she wasn't there. I know she didn't leave though."
Logan spoke. "How do you know that?"
His voice was nearly frantic as he turned to regard Wolverine. "Because, nothing's missing except her shoes."
Logan shrugged. "Sometimes that's all you need."
Warren stood, dumbfounded for a moment, then darted back out the door. He hustled to his car, ignoring the chubby raindrops splashing on his face and matting his blonde hair. He fired the engine and left nothing but the light cast from his taillights as he charged head-on into the night.
**
Behind the mansion was a garden beyond comparison. When Rogue asked him once, Xavier confessed that after he lost the use of his legs he never hired anybody to care for it in his stead, so it grew wild. It was simply magnificent, with tiny vines that slithered across the thick grass and around the legs of the stone benches and tangled flowers hanging loose on the gates or still blooming in dainty rows across the brown earth. Ororo, the green thumb of the household, had decided to begin another garden behind another wing of the mansion so beautiful was this plot of land untouched. It echoed with the abstract sound of joy and peace and the water that once ran through the stone fountains with sad-faced cherubs looming over them like guardians against any evil that dare enter the premises.
The small sentinels performed their job well, for no evil lurked in the garden, only heaven.
Rogue was currently relaxing in one of the several fountains that had been left to run dry, her head tipped back against a lovely little stone girl spurting invisible water from her round cheeks.
The southern native sighed and lolled her head listlessly. The summer heat made a slick blanket of perspiration on her milky skin and her eyelids grew heavy under the sun's persuasion.
She let her mind wander. Where was she when Ororo left? Reading in her room. Damn. And when Warren left? Asleep, like the rest of the sane world. Now he was on a wild goose chase because Rogue knew, she just knew, that a woman like Ororo would never come back. Women like Ororo just arrive, love, and leave, a trail of broken hearts and even the most powerful become sorrow-stricken men falling to their knees with their heads in her lap and begging her to stay, that he'll take care of her 'til the day he's buried in the ground, that he'll love her forever. The last part is true- he will love her forever, but Ororo doesn't need a man to take care of her. She's as beautiful as a star plucked from heaven and as strong as the fiercest winds.
Rogue slightly pitied Warren. Poor boy had just never met a woman like her. She wasn't an Ivy League princess spoon fed the world in moderate proportions. Maybe he should take a notice at Jean.
Rogue shook her head. No, that wasn't fair. Jean had never done anything to make the professional secret agent dislike her. But all the same, something about the wide-eyed, naïve baby girl put Rogue on edge. Sort of the way Wanda did. But Wanda was different entirely. She flaunted her money where Jean gave subtle, silent clues that yeah, maybe she could afford some nice things in her life. Rogue once thought Wanda and Jean were very similar indeed, but soon discovered that instead of naïve and dreamy, Wanda was simply spoiled and childish, her father's bank accounts acting as a protective shield between her and the real world.
"Is dis private time, or can I interrupt?"
"You've got some nerve, showin' up heuh." Rogue said shortly.
Remy nodded. "Dat's very true, but I live dangerously."
She opened her eyes finally and gave him a brief glance over. He stood his ground, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. His shoulders slumped. "Look, chere... Rogue. I'm sorry about all dis shit. I'm a hypocrite, I know. I hated it when you didn't tell me about bein' a cop, but I was an ass when I didn't tell you about de t'ings I did in de past."
Rogue nodded slowly. "I won't say it's alraght, because it's not yet, but soon."
He perched on the edge of her fountain, turning uncomfortably to hold eye contact. "So now you know where I learned literature."
Rogue's eyebrows rose over closed eyes. "Hmm, how is that?"
He folded his legs on the stone edge. "I had a girl," he smiled musingly, "Marigold. She was a nice little t'ing," his eyes fell and his voice was solemn, "I hated having to work her, but she didn't let it bot'er her. She just held her head high and came back in de morning with enough cash to feed her." He sighed. "She was a literature buff but she couldn't afford college; we got to talking one day and over the next three years she taught me a hell of a lot more than I ever taught her dat's for sure." He smiled bitterly. "Dat girl was going places. Damn, she was such a better person dan I was. De only person dat could make me love and hate myself at de same time."
Rogue was silent, letting Remy slip from his reverie. "It's getting' a lil cold. I'm goin' in." He rose slowly but before disappearing behind a wall of wax-green hanging ivy he turned as if deciding on something and said, " 'O! Would that we were lying side by side in the same grave, hand in hand, and from time to time, in the darkness, gently caressing a finger-that would suffice for my eternity!'" He paused. "Victor Hugo."
Rogue bit her lip.
**
Jean's cheeks expanded as she blew a gust of breath onto the tiny flickering candle nestled into the chocolate frosting of the large cupcake. A tendril of smoke rose from where the extinguished flame existed.
Approaching footsteps prompted her to hide the cupcake in a secure cubby under the coffee table at her knees.
Scott appeared at the door. He grinned upon seeing her. "Oh hi!" He made his way to the coffee table on the far side of the room and retrieved a magazine. He stopped and tilted his head to the air. "Do you smel-"
"Smell what?" Jean replied quickly. Scott was no fool.
He eyed her suspiciously and neared her. His nose followed the scent of burnt wick and he discovered her treasure under the table. He held it. "What... is this?" He grinned.
She snatched it. "It's mine, that's what it is." She proceeded to pluck the candle from the center and toss it on the coffee table, plunging her teeth into the sweet treat. He looked on amused and she swallowed. "It's my birthday." She said finally.
"Ah," he said, nodding. "Well happy birthday! How many is it now? Forty-one, forty-two?"
"Ha ha," she muttered and took another bite. "What's the scoop on 'Ro?"
"We're not really sure. Warren just called and said he's pretty sure he's narrowed down the manhunt to a small town just about forty miles north of here. He's going to go and check it out."
"Riveting," Jean said, swallowing the last of her cupcake. He suppressed a smile at the smeared chocolate on the corner of her mouth. "What?" Jean asked.
His lips curved and he moved to wipe it off. Jean nearly shuddered at the feel of his rough thumb brushing against her moist lips. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.
He swallowed, her mouth velvety under his touch. The gap between them miraculously disappeared and Scott's mind flooded with thoughts of pressing his eager mouth hard against hers and then taking her right there on the library couch. He was swallowed by the sinful impulse to hear her moan his name under him.
Before reality kicked him in the face, their mouths were barely brushing and she sighed when he placed a tentative hand on her hip. The sweet contact of her breath on his parted lips wrenched him from blissful abandon and he snapped back.
Jerking away, he mumbled something she couldn't make out. "What?" She repeated.
"I can't!" He said frantically, his wedding vows ringing loud in his ears. He was back beside her but this time to stare her in the eye and speak flatly. "We can't. I'm married and don't get me wrong! You're beautiful, but this could never happen. Not ever." He muttered it again, but this time obviously to himself and then turned to leave. Jean fell back onto the couch.
Damnit! She knew, she knew all along! He was married; he'd always been married. What made her think she could just erase that little triviality? No matter. She wasn't here to fall in... lust. In fact, that was the last thing she would do if she were smart, but hearts have an ethical code all their own. Jean laughed at a sour irony. It was a good thing she didn't love Scott, because if she DID love him, which she definitely did NOT, then he would have just broken her heart and that would be too funny not to smile at: the Heartbreaker getting her own heart broken. So it was a good thing she didn't love Scott and an even better thing he didn't love her. A very good thing.
**
Rogue toweled her russet colored locks vigorously. Clad in a bathrobe, she exited her bathroom and tossed the wet towel onto her bed. Idly, she noticed something she didn't remember being there before she showered. Nudging the towel aside, she saw the green cover of what appeared to be a book. She picked it up. It was indeed a book: Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Smiling in curious awe, she opened the cover and a slip of paper fell out.
Thought you might like it. I love it.
~Remy
Rogue laughed out loud, tapping the piece of paper on the book thoughtfully.
She knocked on Remy's door. He opened it and leaned into the doorframe. "Yes?" He grinned impishly. She held the book up.
"Ah gotta know. Whatevah happened to that girl?"
"Marigold?"
"Yeah, her." Rogue clarified.
Remy blinked. Was she actually giving him a chance at forgiveness? He kind of hoped so. "I donated a portion of my weekly profits to send her to school myself. I stayed in de business until she graduated and den I left."
"Where is she now?" Rogue asked quietly.
He shrugged. "Couldn't tell you, chere. I haven't spoken to anyone from that part of my life since I left. I don't t'ink I could ever face her again. I doubt she'd want to see how her old pimp was holding up." He looked away, more than a little embarrassed and ashamed.
Rogue admired this man at that moment, and she didn't know if that thrilled or scared her more.
~AUTHOR'S Endless Input~
Thanks to all you that review. You guys are so awesome! Every single review is good to have and I cherish it so much. I know a lot of you were surprised with Jean being the Heartbreaker; I wanted to make it subtle but not obscure. I'm thrilled that you guys like the idea of making the Animals song into a story. I love the storyline I've created for it; I just hope I'll be able to pull it off, but with your guys' wonderful encouragement I know I'll never be led in the wrong direction.
Once again, please, please REVIEW! It means the world to me and I really appreciate it.
SORRY this chapter is short but another one is in the works. I wanted to end it here thought because I can't really break up the next segment anywhere and it's kind of long.