Jean fingered the clothing items appreciatively. She always liked violet.
"Augh, God, no honey. With your hair color and peaches and cream complexion, purple would only create a clashing fashion statement. Here, take a look at this." Wanda snatched a royal blue V-Neck and held it against her body. "See? Blue is safe and it looks fabulous."
Jean eyed herself in the full-length mirror. She was so sick of blue and "Green! That's a good color for us redheads, too." Wanda's eyes brightened as she tossed Jean a small green sweater. Jean cast one last longing look at the lilac dress pinned on the showcase wall and purchased blue and green.
How did she let Wanda talk her into this mess? Jean decided around Radio Shack that she was the victim here. There she was, minding her own business, thumbing through a mediocre book in the mansion's library when who should arrive? Wanda, circling her prey before striking for the kill. "I'm on my way to the mall and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to..." Jean protested, but Wanda's jaws were clenched too tightly. Only when they reached the mall was Jean informed of the sole objective of their mission: to find a "li'l something to wear that would please Scott."
"Is it your anniversary?" Jean nearly fainted.
"Oh, no, no. Just a surprise, I guess." She chuckled slightly. "The poor fool, bless his heart, he bought me this white, lacy thing a few months ago but he tore it." She grinned mischievously, hinting at just how Scott Summers tore her lingerie. She wanted this little slut to know exactly whose legs Scott settled between. Settled happily, thank you.
Bile rose in Jean's throat. "Oh."
Wanda and Jean sat down at the food court and enjoyed a spicy Chinese dish. "So, where do you think Ororo and Warren have run off to?" Wanda asked, darting at her food with chopsticks.
Jean didn't reply right away, hoping that by some miracle this day would end and she'd be at the mansion, in the library reading, the gym working out, the pool... "I don't know." She finally said tightly, deciding that Wanda had no right to even be in Ororo's presence, let alone gossip about her.
Jean watched as Wanda's full lips made an 'O' to blow a stream of cool air on her hot morsel of food. Jean was suddenly envious. Did HER lips look like that? And if not, is that what Scott loved about this woman, assuming Scott even loved her. Of course he loved her; he married her didn't he?
"I think," Wanda continued, "he whisked her away to some paradise island and is serving her pina coladas right now. Lord knows that man has enough money to buy Texas."
"I don't think Ororo is interested in him for his money." Jean said quickly, a small smile sugaring her defense.
Wanda scoffed. "Yeah, right." She dabbed the corners of her pretty mouth daintily. Jean wanted to open her lip with her knuckles. "Anyways, that's neither here nor there, really. All I know is Scott is royally pissed about them just running off like a bunch of stray dogs."
"They're hardly dogs, Wanda." Jean kept her tone light.
Scott's wife laughed. "Oh, I know! Jean, you're crazy you know that? Oh! Speaking of crazy, who do you think this mysterious Heartbreaker is, hmm?" Jean had no idea Wanda was such a gossiping hen and certainly had no intention of indulging her.
"I really have no idea. I just hope the bastard confesses soon enough so I can start my morning jog again."
Wanda nodded sympathetically but Jean doubted the bitch had heard a word she said. Jean! Calm down. She bit her lip.
"I'll bet it's Bobby: always in his brother's shadow, wishing for the inheritance money, you know they come and go like that." She snapped her fingers.
Jean shrugged. "Bobby's a good kid, I think."
"Well aren't you just the goody two-shoes! God, I'd say it was you but you're too peppermints and dandelions for that kind of shit." Wanda swallowed the last of her food and started polishing off her drink. "But I think it's pretty obvious who it really is."
Jean's interest was slightly piqued. Admittedly, this little roll call was quietly fascinating. "Do tell."
Wanda's dark eyes widened. "Logan, of course!" Jean nearly choked on her Coca Cola. "I mean how much more obvious does it need to be? The minute the professor comes home, he hightails it out of here. Who knows where the hell he is?" She tosses her hand up in the air for emphasis. "I wouldn't be surprised if we never see the bastard again, or upset." She added dryly.
Jean sat back in her chair. If she ever shot Wanda, it wouldn't be in the head. The air release would blow her into the next century.
**
Bobby eyed the punching bag suspiciously. "Gimme your best shot," he smirked before ramming his fist into its midsection. He threw frantic punches at it, mumbling threatening obscenities at it, the bag swinging on its thick chain from the ceiling.
"Bobby!" Scott repeated.
"Huh?" The blonde looked up from his fight and the punching bad swung back predictably, slamming into Bobby with its own awaited revenge. "Ah!" He swatted it. "That's one for you, ugly."
Scott lifted a brow and shook his head. "Hey, sorry to interrupt but have you seen Wanda."
Bobby unraveled the wrap around his sore knuckles. "Yeah, she went shopping." Scot grimaced. His wife wasn't exactly a penny pincher. Scott straightened and attempted to look casual as Bobby headed for the locker rooms.
"What about Jean? Seen her anywhere?" His voice was nonchalant and passive.
"Yeah, she went with her."
Bobby slammed through the doors with a burst of exuberance, leaving Scott to wonder what kind of cruel joke someone was playing on him.
**
Wanda pulled into the garage and turned the car off with a twist of the key. "Home sweet home," she sighed, pulling numerous bags from the backseat and slamming the door shut.
Jean too retrieved her bags and commenced lugging them into the house beside Wanda. Scott met them at the door. A split-second of uncomfortable silence, a wave of overwhelming positive emotion from Scott (but for whom, Jean wasn't sure) then Wanda dropped her bags and leapt into her husband's arms. "Scott! Hello, love. Miss me?"
He met Jean's eyes over Wanda's shoulder for only a transitory second before dipping his head into her embrace and kissing her auburn curls. He held on for an extra second; Jean clenched her teeth. "Hey hon. How'd you do?"
She stepped from his arms and surveyed the bags. "Not bad. Jean here is a better shopper than I thought." They exchanged small smiles. Scott lifted Wanda's bags easily and proceeded up the stairs. Wanda turned to Jean. "Thanks a lot, Peaches, for giving me a hand today. I hope he likes it!"
Jean, unsure of where the hell the nickname came from, smiled sweetly. "He'll love it."
Wanda smoothed her skirt. "We'll find out tonight, eh?" She giggled and followed Scott upstairs. Jean turned and headed for the kitchen. She needed a drink, something to the tune of straight bourbon. 'Cheer up, Peaches,' Jean sneered inwardly. 'After today, you know you can survive anything.'
**
"Can you believe it?" She fumed, pacing before her bed. Remy leaned into the headboard, watching her but hiding his faint amusement. In a way, a very small way of course, it was cute. "Xaviah said that he KNOWS who the Heartbreakah is. Said he's 'discussed the situation with him' but he ain't telling anyone because the fuckah has shit to sort out and then 'he or she will approach me themselves and we can DISCUSS it.' Discuss, nothin', I'll kill the bastard the minute he shows his face, Ah sweah to Gawd."
Remy rose from his seated position, approaching her and wrapping arms around her shoulders. "Aw, c'mon, chere. I'm sure de professor knows what he's doing." Remy felt a twinge of guilt. He knew it was perhaps cold, but the Cajun was getting just a little bit tired of hearing the woman he was falling fast for go on and on about this Caleb fellow. Rogue was tense in his arms. "Shh, it's alright. I understand."
She shrugged him off as gently as possible and snorted. "Fohgive me, Remy, but Ah highly doubt you 'understand.'"
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Sure I do. Just because I can't sympathize doesn't mean I don't understand: you're mad at Xavier because he won't tell you who de killer is. That's what's really bot'ering you." He approached her again, this time holding her tighter as he peered out the window. She fell against him, her shoulders slumping and her arms coming to hold him close to her body.
"Ah'm sorry. Ah've just had a lot to think about lately."
He nodded as his hands roamed her back, rubbing soothingly. She lifted her head and their lips met wordlessly, drinking off each other's strength. Remy couldn't deny the many women he'd kissed before, but Rogue left them all behind. Her kisses were all raspberry and vanilla swirl, fresh as raindrops on blades of green grass.
"Bobby!" Rogue said, and Remy spun from the window to meet eyes with the boy billionaire.
He stiffened. "Sorry for interrupting. I'm gone." And with that, he disappeared behind the doorway. Needless to say, it did nothing to enhance Rogue's mood.
**
Ororo's eyes fluttered open to an endless expanse of immeasurable sky, gray and blue reflecting in her eyes. She inclined her head ever so slightly to the sound of roaring ocean waves crashing to the shore and succumbing to the cool damp sand, gliding like a sheet of perfect glass until it foamed at the edges and seeped into the earth. It was enough to take a goddess' breath away.
A body shifted next to her. She turned and smiled at the slumbering form of a one Warren Worthington the prestigious third. Even with tousled blonde locks and frumpy gray slacks, he was a truly ideal example of chiseled-featured, lively masculinity. He smiled up at her with bleary blue eyes.
"Hey," he rasped, turning over in the sand to prop himself on an elbow. She lied on her back and held his towering gaze. His eyes scanned his surroundings. "Beautiful isn't it?"
She scoffed lightly. "Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it. It's... It's nature."
He nodded. "Yep." She rolled his eyes.
"Yep," she mocked playfully and poked him between two firm abs.
Last night had been, in a word, enchanting. Ororo believed that kind of bliss was only found between the hardcover of a fairytale, but last night was as real as the sun. He pulled over in his tiny silver car and scurried across to open her door, a sweeping gesture of his hand prompting her to get out. She eyed him suspiciously but did as he asked.
He led her to the other side of a crumbling stone hedge where they were immediately greeted by a steep hill composed solely of jagged rocks and catching weeds. Ororo could see the ocean at the foot of the hill and was soon scrambling right beside Warren to reach the bottom. They clasped hands somewhere in the middle and supported each other when the other lost their balance.
Finally at the bottom, they strolled along the beach, raging sea currents rising to immense heights before falling to their knees and then eventually laying flat as they lapped at Ororo and Warren's feet.
Finally, they had stopped to rest, both finding a seat on the sandy shores far enough away to be safe from the rising tides. He pointed out constellations that she pretended to be interested in but he quickly caught on. "Boring you?"
"Not at all. But you look at it differently. It's not Orion, or some mighty serpent, or this and that. It is simply heaven." She spread her arms wide to encompass the entire sky. "Diamonds for free."
He looked up again, this time with different eyes, not those of the spoiled Ivy League graduate, spoon-fed astronomy lessons every Tuesday and Thursday at precisely one p.m., but those of a man--a man grateful to have a woman beside him that will tell him how to look at the sky the RIGHT way.
They didn't make love that previous night because neither had initiated it. There was no need. There was just the two of them and a newly found heaven.
"What are you thinking about, huh?" He shifted position to lay his head down on her torso. She ran slender fingers through his sun-colored tresses.
"Last night," she responded truthfully. "The stars..." her voice trailed off as his hand slipped under her shirt to rest on the skin of her thin waist.
"Uh-huh," he said, rubbing his thumb across her navel and causing her to suck in a pleased breath.
She raised her hand to cup his chin and lowered his mouth to envelop hers. Their kiss wasn't soft or butterfly, not even at first, just hard and wanting and all the passion Warren knew this woman harbored.
A wave crashed, this time edging ever the more closer to the couple until Ororo felt her toes dip into the sea. She buried her heels into the wet sand while Warren slowly undid the button on her capris, his mouth journeying south to trail hot kisses on her cinnamon neck. Above them, all was peaceful with the orange and red early morning sky, hovering above the blue-green autumn ocean.
**
Scott stared Jean right in the eye. She could escape him no longer. He was certain she was avoiding him and now, finally, he would discover the meaning of it all, even if he had to stoop so low as corner her in the Blackbird while she executed the weekly maintenance checklist. All was fair in... whatever, Scott. He shook his nerves and asked her again. "Why are you-"
"I'm not avoiding you, Scott!" A cherry flush crept into her cheeks and Scott fought to clamp his mouth. Adorable. No, he wasn't here to make love, not this time. Four times in all, including the first night in the pool. Despite silent 'good-bye for evers', he always came crawling back to her because, call it cliché, he worshipped the ground she walked on. It was quite pathetic actually. But then again, she hadn't once refused his returns.
She shifted her weight onto the other foot. "Let me through that door."
He crossed his arms and stood planted in front of the latch. "Not until you answer." He was being a child. He didn't care.
Jean clenched her teeth. "Fine, you really want to know?"
"Yes, I rea-"
"What the hell was that little burst of love I was fortunate enough to be made witness to yesterday, hmm? I mean, it wasn't bad enough that she practically shoved it in my face that you two were a 'happily married couple' with wonderful little bedroom surprises, but I had to see that. And YOU initiated it!"
His shoulders slumped. "Jean, you know I can't give her any reason to doubt me. I was trying to be safe!"
She stamped her foot with one charming, tiny thud. Scott suppressed a goofy grin.
Jean knew his intentions were good. She was perhaps trying to pick a fight so they would have a reason to break off this romantic affair with a not-completely-demolished conscience. This wasn't for her. She'd been a lot of things in her life, but the other woman? Never. Jean shook her head. This deep contemplation was getting just a little too complicated.
Scott sensed her worry and closed the gap between them. "Don't touch me!" She cried suddenly. "If you touch me one more time I'll never be able to leave you. God," she squeezed her eyelids tightly, "if you knew me, really."
He smiled and grabbed her hand. She melted against him and he held her close. She pursed her lips then said, "Let me go. You don't want me. You're married. You've got a beautiful wife, a beautiful home, a beautiful family. Don't let me fuck this up for you, Scott."
He pressed his mouth hard against hers. "I don't love Wanda."
She hesitated. "And...?"
He grinned. "And I love you. I do, really. And you're so much more to me than the 'other woman.' As for not knowing the real you, tell me. I'm more than happy to listen."
She traced delicate fingers over his stern jaw line and across his temples. She inferred that his eyes were closed the way his head was tipped and his breathing ran haggard. She kissed his chin. "I'll tell you everything, but first," she captured his mouth fervently in one swift motion. Scott sensed the flavor of where her thoughts headed and was soon kissing back.
**
Bobby plopped onto the sofa unceremoniously. His eyebrows etched and wallowing in a sufficiently dampened mood from what he had just seen, the young mutant surfed channels until he was satisfied with the current hockey game. It was turned loud in hopes of drowning his sullen disposition, thus he failed to notice Rogue's entrance into the den until she took a seat beside him.
She curled her legs under her and toyed with the edge of her sock. "Hah," she murmured, and he might not have heard it over the volume had he not been straining to hear her every word.
'This is the part where she falls to her knees and begs I forgive her, promising she'll never do it again, or better yet, swearing that he had manipulated her mind in some way, shape, or form.' He scoffed inwardly. Only in Bobby's World.
He might have laughed at the silent, inadvertent joke but laughing was not among his high priorities at the moment.
"Bobby, Ah think we need to-"
He held up a hand. "No, we really don't. Let's not sprinkle salt in an open wound, eh?"
She grimaced. He could be very descriptive of his emotions when he wanted to be. "Alraght, well can Ah watch the game with yah?"
He tossed the offer around in his head. Her presence was also not on his list of high priorities--not anymore. He didn't think he could stand to be in the same room with her anymore. Not because he detested her now, or because she had some ghastly bodily odor, but because if she even so much as touched him he'd crumble like a pillar of ash. No doubt.
"Sure," he said anyway, because refusing her was just as hard as looking at her glimmering green eyes and not growing weak. Did that Remy prick deify her like he did?
It didn't matter now because she had clearly made her choice. But Bobby, like his brother, had been puppy-trained into never believing that 'he said, she said shit.' Thanks for that one, Dad. He needed to hear it for himself, straight from her mouth.
"So," his voice cut through the awkward silence he was unaware he'd created with his brooding. "You and Remy an official... whatever?"
She took a second to think about God knows what-Caleb? Her job?-and finally nodded. "Yeah, Ah think you could say that."
"I just did," he said flatly, but not with malicious intent, just raw, good ole heartbreak.
"Yes, we're an official... whatevah."
Bobby wondered why the whole mansion could not hear everything escape his body in one silently screaming, disappointing gust.
**
"Pull over. I want ice cream."
Warren glanced at his companion from the corner of his eye. "What?"
"You heard me. Ice Cream. Now." She pointed at a small countryside store with a giant ice cream cone protruding from the roof with the words BEN AND JERRY'S ICE CREAM printed proudly beneath.
Warren shrugged but pulled into the dusty parking lot, rocks and dirt flying up to meet the sides of his car. He tried to ignore it.
Ororo stepped out with languid grace that Warren could not ignore, as well as a few other men entering and exiting the small store. He considered wrapping a possessive arm round her shoulders but thought against it. He didn't have to do that and Lord knew she did not want that. So he settled on holding open the door for her, gentlemanly--not domineering, two rusty bells heralding their entrance.
Ororo stepped to the counter, perching her round black sunglasses atop her head in sharp contrast to her glorious mane of snow while she surveyed the various flavors. Warren, meanwhile, opted to use the restroom.
"Butter Pecan, one scoop, please."
The young girl with braces behind the counter hastily began digging with the scoop, awed and not a little envious of the woman's elegant beauty and perfect confidence. The shrieking bells jangled behind Ororo and she turned casually. In stepped a tall woman in a simple, cream-colored dress tight against her exaggerated curves. "There ya' go. That'll be $1.75."
Ororo turned her attention and paid the girl. She noticed Warren coming from the bathroom hall and opened her mouth to ask if he wanted anything when she noticed his eyes following the woman passing him to reach the bathrooms. She walked with an heir of undeniable power and dripped wealth. The extra sway of her rounded hips when passing the playboy did not go unnoticed to the wind-rider.
She soon disappeared into the bathrooms and Warren caught Ororo's furious azure eyes. He immediately chastised himself. She rolled her eyes and stalked back to the car; he followed.
"C'mon, 'Ro, It was nothing."
She continued licking her ice cream but no longer had a taste for it. "God, give me something a little more original." Perhaps she was being petty, after all, they'd only made love once, but she didn't care. Something inside her sparked when she saw his eyes follow that butter-skinned whore.
"It was just a glance. One glance to her," he squeezed her hand, "a serious something to you."
Ororo absorbed his words. A serious something? Serious usually sent her fleeing for the hills, but not this time.
The rolling clouds in the sky relented. Warren sighed a breath of relief.
**
Scott nibbled her ear from behind. She pressed her shoulders to her neck. "Don't." She said softly, her voice cracking. Scott's brows furrowed and he rolled her over so they faced each other. He wore his pants and she her bra and underwear. He'd covered her with his shirt since her dress was nowhere to be found just before they collapsed into slumber on the Blackbird floor. Tears were welling in her big blue eyes.
"What... What's wrong?" He inquired, hugging her close and fighting off the panic.
She wriggled from his embrace. "It's time I tell you the truth. You'll be the first." His face was etched with confusion but he held silent. She took one deep breath and the confession poured from her mouth. "Scott, I... When I was a kid, a man named Frankie Gestessi killed my father."
A pause. "Geez, I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with concern. She stopped him.
"There's more. He was involved in organized crime and the only family I had. Just three years ago, I started a little revenge spree." Jean's tone was sour and a hint of regret lurked between the lines.
Scott didn't know what to make of what she said but he had a feeling what the outcome of this little confession would be. God, please no.
"I killed his four sons." Her eyes acquired a sadly distant glaze. "Shot them point blank. The last one: Caleb Gestessi, Rogue's lover." A tear finally did escape her. "God, I'm a fucking monster. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
Scott licked his lips, unsure of what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but how could he? She was a... Hell, a goddamned murderer. A killer. He hated killers. He surely didn't love them. "Why..." he sputtered, his mind unable to word his emotions. "How could you?"
She shook her head weakly. "I'm so sorry." But she knew she was apologizing to the wrong person.
Meanwhile, Remy tossed a wrench back into his toolbox and wiped the grease from his hands with a blue rag. The garage smelt like gasoline and metal; it was divine, a place where a guy could really relax and get away from all this melodrama bullshit. No drama here-just tools, motor, and his two hands.
And a muffled voice.
He tilted his chin and sharpened his ears. "What de hell?" He muttered, dropping to his hands and knees and fumbling on the cement to follow the voices. He chuckled dryly. "Goin' crazy, homme."
He stood again and the voices were now prominent and very real. He turned his head and was faced with a small intercom. The light flashed yellow which meant it was receiving a message. Remy inferred that someone must have accidentally hit the 'Talk' button on the other line and he was therefore eavesdropping. He was about to tell them to turn it off when he caught a fascinating fragment of the conversation taking place on the other line.
"And you never told me! Or the professor?"
Remy scoffed. Scott: always the paranoid soldier boy. What that guy needed was a good fuck.
"The professor knows! He didn't want to tell Rogue because I'M going to tell her. I'll do it myself. It's MY dirty work." Remy's attention was snagged by now. Rogue's business suddenly became his business and what the hell did, Jeannie--by the sound of it--have to tell Rogue?
"And just when were you going to do that? When she was good and over him so you could scrape open an old scar?"
Remy heard tears in the telekinetic's voice and couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. "I needed time to think about it, okay? I needed to plan what I was going to say, that sort of thing!" Her defense was weak but she spat it with suck fury and hurt it was enough to make any man lay off.
Scott did indeed back down a bit. "Look, I'm not trying to be the heartless hypocrite that pretends he's never done anything wrong in his life and then kick you when you're down, but you can't expect me to just accept this with a teaspoon of sugar and hope I'll just swallow it with a grimace and then smile. This is serious shit, here! You're the goddamned Heartbreaker, Jean!"
Remy nearly flew into the wall behind him.
Her pretty eyes narrowed. "Yeah? And you're fucking the Heartbreaker, so there."
Remy's eyes doubled. Jesus P. Christ! What the hell was wrong with these people!?
Scott flinched at her harsh words but he threw back. "Don't do that. You seduced me, remember?"
Jean's jaw nearly hit the ground. "How dare you! I did no such thing. I merely offered and you were more than happy to oblige, Scott. And need I remind you who cornered who here in the Blackbird, hmm?"
"Offered? Offered! 'If you don't kiss me right now I'll leave and never come back!' THAT'S offering?"
Remy shook his head, hovering now over the intercom as a middle-aged woman hovers around the television. 'You're pat'etic, Remy.'
She looked away with indifferent eyes. "It was your decision."
He clenched his jaw. "Yeah, well, so is this." He stalked past her and slammed open the Blackbird latch. He spun to meet her angry eyes, no longer crying but hard and steely like the eyes she wore when she put bullets in four men's heads.
Remy needed a drink.
**
Bobby needed a drink. He filled a glass with brandy and settled onto one of the hall benches, lurking in the shadows and watching with tired eyes the sporadic passers. Down the hall a ways he could see Remy's door. He'd watched the filthy Cajun slip in a while ago and he'd been shacked up in there ever since. Good, maybe he's dead. Bobby flinched. It was the alcohol.
His interest piqued when a flash of crimson appeared in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the mansion's resident lovely redhead approach Remy's door and knocked twice, quietly enough to snag Bobby's curiosity.
"Remy!" She rasped, keeping her voice low and her face close against the door. When it swung open she was a bit taken aback and straightened with one swift jolt. "Remy, um, good. You're here. I... need to talk to you." Remy watched her with burning eyes. "Can I come in?"
He stepped aside and allowed her to enter.
Bobby watched with silent fascination. That goddamned dirty rat wasn't even dating Rogue a whole month and he's sleeping around on her. Bobby crept to the closed door and pressed an ear against it. Risky, he knew, but hell if he cared.
A few solemn murmurs from Jean and then creaking wood as someone moved somewhere. He was not going to resort to peeking through the keyhole. Besides, they were deadbolts--no keyholes.
Inside, Jean wrung her hands. "I think we should talk."
Remy scanned her nervous gestures with disapproving eyes. "Now is dat anyway for de infamous Heartbreaker to behave, eh?"
Jean nodded. "Thought so. I sensed you after I left the 'Bird. You're quite the onlooker." She remarked dryly.
"Yeah, well, you know me dese days. If it involves Rogue..."
"Yeah, I know, but God Remy," she rushed to him and clasped her hands. "Please, please, don't tell her. I'll take care of it. I promise I'll tell her, and soon, but I just don't want it coming from anyone's mouth but mine."
Remy blinked, rubbing his temples. "Jesus, Jean, alright. Fine, but you had better tell her and I mean soon. I shudder to t'ink what would happen if she knew I knew." He exhaled a deep breath through his teeth, clearly irritated with the entire situation. He looked up at Jean once more, this time with slightly amused eyes. "I still can't believe it. Li'l pure-bred Jeannie girl, de Heartbreaker." He lit a cigarette. "Shit, it's crazy."
She hesitated but grabbed his smoke from between slim fingers and took her own long drag. "Oh, not really all that crazy."
Bobby was nearly catatonic on the other side of the door. Holy God, did HE have something to tell Rogue. When the time was just right, of course.
**
Warren often woke up with a beautiful woman beside him two nights in a row, but now he decided he liked it when it was the same woman.
After driving a whole hour yesterday, they were currently only a measly hour from the school but her hand had been nestled comfortably on his thigh and he was finding it hard to drive straight; they couldn't hold out a whole hour.
Which explained why they laid side by side in Room 131 of a quaint little bed 'n breakfast, the morning sun peeking through their curtains. "Are we going to make it home today, Worthington?"
He bit his lip musingly. "Sure hope so." He hugged a pillow while she stood and dressed.
They were definitely going to make it home because she could not be in those clothes for one more day. "Do you think they miss us?" She asked, finger-combing her eggshell-colored locks.
He shook his head and pulled her back into bed. She tumbled on top of him and swatted him playfully. "They're too wrapped up in their own little personal affairs. Next time on Days of our Mutant Lives..." his voice trailed off when she erupted into a fit of giggles.
"You're too much, Warren." She laughed.
Their door burst open and three masked men filed in. A needle was jabbed into both mutants' necks before either could react. They went lifeless within approximately twelve seconds.
"Storm and Angel are down."
"Good," came the voice from the other end of the communicator. "Escort them to their new accommodations."
**
The blonde woman stood at the mansion's tall iron gate. Her limousine driver shifted impatiently behind her. "Miss...?"
She cocked a brow but did not turn. "You may go." Her voice was sharp but not necessarily cold, just resolute. The timid man nodded behind her and sped away.
She focused back on the iron bars and extended a long finger to press the 'Talk' button on the intercom.
"Emma Frost to see Professor Charles Xavier."
My Ramblings~
Hi Hi Hi There! (A few of you have caught on to my Clockwork Orange references... veeeery perceptive:) But that's neither here nor there; how goes it so far? I know the cliffhanger is monstrous but you know me: sick, twisted, evil, etc. I love to hear your comments through reviews and e-mails. You guys rock!
As always, puhleeeze REVIEW! I won't beg...
Yes I will. PUHLEEZE!
"Augh, God, no honey. With your hair color and peaches and cream complexion, purple would only create a clashing fashion statement. Here, take a look at this." Wanda snatched a royal blue V-Neck and held it against her body. "See? Blue is safe and it looks fabulous."
Jean eyed herself in the full-length mirror. She was so sick of blue and "Green! That's a good color for us redheads, too." Wanda's eyes brightened as she tossed Jean a small green sweater. Jean cast one last longing look at the lilac dress pinned on the showcase wall and purchased blue and green.
How did she let Wanda talk her into this mess? Jean decided around Radio Shack that she was the victim here. There she was, minding her own business, thumbing through a mediocre book in the mansion's library when who should arrive? Wanda, circling her prey before striking for the kill. "I'm on my way to the mall and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to..." Jean protested, but Wanda's jaws were clenched too tightly. Only when they reached the mall was Jean informed of the sole objective of their mission: to find a "li'l something to wear that would please Scott."
"Is it your anniversary?" Jean nearly fainted.
"Oh, no, no. Just a surprise, I guess." She chuckled slightly. "The poor fool, bless his heart, he bought me this white, lacy thing a few months ago but he tore it." She grinned mischievously, hinting at just how Scott Summers tore her lingerie. She wanted this little slut to know exactly whose legs Scott settled between. Settled happily, thank you.
Bile rose in Jean's throat. "Oh."
Wanda and Jean sat down at the food court and enjoyed a spicy Chinese dish. "So, where do you think Ororo and Warren have run off to?" Wanda asked, darting at her food with chopsticks.
Jean didn't reply right away, hoping that by some miracle this day would end and she'd be at the mansion, in the library reading, the gym working out, the pool... "I don't know." She finally said tightly, deciding that Wanda had no right to even be in Ororo's presence, let alone gossip about her.
Jean watched as Wanda's full lips made an 'O' to blow a stream of cool air on her hot morsel of food. Jean was suddenly envious. Did HER lips look like that? And if not, is that what Scott loved about this woman, assuming Scott even loved her. Of course he loved her; he married her didn't he?
"I think," Wanda continued, "he whisked her away to some paradise island and is serving her pina coladas right now. Lord knows that man has enough money to buy Texas."
"I don't think Ororo is interested in him for his money." Jean said quickly, a small smile sugaring her defense.
Wanda scoffed. "Yeah, right." She dabbed the corners of her pretty mouth daintily. Jean wanted to open her lip with her knuckles. "Anyways, that's neither here nor there, really. All I know is Scott is royally pissed about them just running off like a bunch of stray dogs."
"They're hardly dogs, Wanda." Jean kept her tone light.
Scott's wife laughed. "Oh, I know! Jean, you're crazy you know that? Oh! Speaking of crazy, who do you think this mysterious Heartbreaker is, hmm?" Jean had no idea Wanda was such a gossiping hen and certainly had no intention of indulging her.
"I really have no idea. I just hope the bastard confesses soon enough so I can start my morning jog again."
Wanda nodded sympathetically but Jean doubted the bitch had heard a word she said. Jean! Calm down. She bit her lip.
"I'll bet it's Bobby: always in his brother's shadow, wishing for the inheritance money, you know they come and go like that." She snapped her fingers.
Jean shrugged. "Bobby's a good kid, I think."
"Well aren't you just the goody two-shoes! God, I'd say it was you but you're too peppermints and dandelions for that kind of shit." Wanda swallowed the last of her food and started polishing off her drink. "But I think it's pretty obvious who it really is."
Jean's interest was slightly piqued. Admittedly, this little roll call was quietly fascinating. "Do tell."
Wanda's dark eyes widened. "Logan, of course!" Jean nearly choked on her Coca Cola. "I mean how much more obvious does it need to be? The minute the professor comes home, he hightails it out of here. Who knows where the hell he is?" She tosses her hand up in the air for emphasis. "I wouldn't be surprised if we never see the bastard again, or upset." She added dryly.
Jean sat back in her chair. If she ever shot Wanda, it wouldn't be in the head. The air release would blow her into the next century.
**
Bobby eyed the punching bag suspiciously. "Gimme your best shot," he smirked before ramming his fist into its midsection. He threw frantic punches at it, mumbling threatening obscenities at it, the bag swinging on its thick chain from the ceiling.
"Bobby!" Scott repeated.
"Huh?" The blonde looked up from his fight and the punching bad swung back predictably, slamming into Bobby with its own awaited revenge. "Ah!" He swatted it. "That's one for you, ugly."
Scott lifted a brow and shook his head. "Hey, sorry to interrupt but have you seen Wanda."
Bobby unraveled the wrap around his sore knuckles. "Yeah, she went shopping." Scot grimaced. His wife wasn't exactly a penny pincher. Scott straightened and attempted to look casual as Bobby headed for the locker rooms.
"What about Jean? Seen her anywhere?" His voice was nonchalant and passive.
"Yeah, she went with her."
Bobby slammed through the doors with a burst of exuberance, leaving Scott to wonder what kind of cruel joke someone was playing on him.
**
Wanda pulled into the garage and turned the car off with a twist of the key. "Home sweet home," she sighed, pulling numerous bags from the backseat and slamming the door shut.
Jean too retrieved her bags and commenced lugging them into the house beside Wanda. Scott met them at the door. A split-second of uncomfortable silence, a wave of overwhelming positive emotion from Scott (but for whom, Jean wasn't sure) then Wanda dropped her bags and leapt into her husband's arms. "Scott! Hello, love. Miss me?"
He met Jean's eyes over Wanda's shoulder for only a transitory second before dipping his head into her embrace and kissing her auburn curls. He held on for an extra second; Jean clenched her teeth. "Hey hon. How'd you do?"
She stepped from his arms and surveyed the bags. "Not bad. Jean here is a better shopper than I thought." They exchanged small smiles. Scott lifted Wanda's bags easily and proceeded up the stairs. Wanda turned to Jean. "Thanks a lot, Peaches, for giving me a hand today. I hope he likes it!"
Jean, unsure of where the hell the nickname came from, smiled sweetly. "He'll love it."
Wanda smoothed her skirt. "We'll find out tonight, eh?" She giggled and followed Scott upstairs. Jean turned and headed for the kitchen. She needed a drink, something to the tune of straight bourbon. 'Cheer up, Peaches,' Jean sneered inwardly. 'After today, you know you can survive anything.'
**
"Can you believe it?" She fumed, pacing before her bed. Remy leaned into the headboard, watching her but hiding his faint amusement. In a way, a very small way of course, it was cute. "Xaviah said that he KNOWS who the Heartbreakah is. Said he's 'discussed the situation with him' but he ain't telling anyone because the fuckah has shit to sort out and then 'he or she will approach me themselves and we can DISCUSS it.' Discuss, nothin', I'll kill the bastard the minute he shows his face, Ah sweah to Gawd."
Remy rose from his seated position, approaching her and wrapping arms around her shoulders. "Aw, c'mon, chere. I'm sure de professor knows what he's doing." Remy felt a twinge of guilt. He knew it was perhaps cold, but the Cajun was getting just a little bit tired of hearing the woman he was falling fast for go on and on about this Caleb fellow. Rogue was tense in his arms. "Shh, it's alright. I understand."
She shrugged him off as gently as possible and snorted. "Fohgive me, Remy, but Ah highly doubt you 'understand.'"
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Sure I do. Just because I can't sympathize doesn't mean I don't understand: you're mad at Xavier because he won't tell you who de killer is. That's what's really bot'ering you." He approached her again, this time holding her tighter as he peered out the window. She fell against him, her shoulders slumping and her arms coming to hold him close to her body.
"Ah'm sorry. Ah've just had a lot to think about lately."
He nodded as his hands roamed her back, rubbing soothingly. She lifted her head and their lips met wordlessly, drinking off each other's strength. Remy couldn't deny the many women he'd kissed before, but Rogue left them all behind. Her kisses were all raspberry and vanilla swirl, fresh as raindrops on blades of green grass.
"Bobby!" Rogue said, and Remy spun from the window to meet eyes with the boy billionaire.
He stiffened. "Sorry for interrupting. I'm gone." And with that, he disappeared behind the doorway. Needless to say, it did nothing to enhance Rogue's mood.
**
Ororo's eyes fluttered open to an endless expanse of immeasurable sky, gray and blue reflecting in her eyes. She inclined her head ever so slightly to the sound of roaring ocean waves crashing to the shore and succumbing to the cool damp sand, gliding like a sheet of perfect glass until it foamed at the edges and seeped into the earth. It was enough to take a goddess' breath away.
A body shifted next to her. She turned and smiled at the slumbering form of a one Warren Worthington the prestigious third. Even with tousled blonde locks and frumpy gray slacks, he was a truly ideal example of chiseled-featured, lively masculinity. He smiled up at her with bleary blue eyes.
"Hey," he rasped, turning over in the sand to prop himself on an elbow. She lied on her back and held his towering gaze. His eyes scanned his surroundings. "Beautiful isn't it?"
She scoffed lightly. "Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it. It's... It's nature."
He nodded. "Yep." She rolled his eyes.
"Yep," she mocked playfully and poked him between two firm abs.
Last night had been, in a word, enchanting. Ororo believed that kind of bliss was only found between the hardcover of a fairytale, but last night was as real as the sun. He pulled over in his tiny silver car and scurried across to open her door, a sweeping gesture of his hand prompting her to get out. She eyed him suspiciously but did as he asked.
He led her to the other side of a crumbling stone hedge where they were immediately greeted by a steep hill composed solely of jagged rocks and catching weeds. Ororo could see the ocean at the foot of the hill and was soon scrambling right beside Warren to reach the bottom. They clasped hands somewhere in the middle and supported each other when the other lost their balance.
Finally at the bottom, they strolled along the beach, raging sea currents rising to immense heights before falling to their knees and then eventually laying flat as they lapped at Ororo and Warren's feet.
Finally, they had stopped to rest, both finding a seat on the sandy shores far enough away to be safe from the rising tides. He pointed out constellations that she pretended to be interested in but he quickly caught on. "Boring you?"
"Not at all. But you look at it differently. It's not Orion, or some mighty serpent, or this and that. It is simply heaven." She spread her arms wide to encompass the entire sky. "Diamonds for free."
He looked up again, this time with different eyes, not those of the spoiled Ivy League graduate, spoon-fed astronomy lessons every Tuesday and Thursday at precisely one p.m., but those of a man--a man grateful to have a woman beside him that will tell him how to look at the sky the RIGHT way.
They didn't make love that previous night because neither had initiated it. There was no need. There was just the two of them and a newly found heaven.
"What are you thinking about, huh?" He shifted position to lay his head down on her torso. She ran slender fingers through his sun-colored tresses.
"Last night," she responded truthfully. "The stars..." her voice trailed off as his hand slipped under her shirt to rest on the skin of her thin waist.
"Uh-huh," he said, rubbing his thumb across her navel and causing her to suck in a pleased breath.
She raised her hand to cup his chin and lowered his mouth to envelop hers. Their kiss wasn't soft or butterfly, not even at first, just hard and wanting and all the passion Warren knew this woman harbored.
A wave crashed, this time edging ever the more closer to the couple until Ororo felt her toes dip into the sea. She buried her heels into the wet sand while Warren slowly undid the button on her capris, his mouth journeying south to trail hot kisses on her cinnamon neck. Above them, all was peaceful with the orange and red early morning sky, hovering above the blue-green autumn ocean.
**
Scott stared Jean right in the eye. She could escape him no longer. He was certain she was avoiding him and now, finally, he would discover the meaning of it all, even if he had to stoop so low as corner her in the Blackbird while she executed the weekly maintenance checklist. All was fair in... whatever, Scott. He shook his nerves and asked her again. "Why are you-"
"I'm not avoiding you, Scott!" A cherry flush crept into her cheeks and Scott fought to clamp his mouth. Adorable. No, he wasn't here to make love, not this time. Four times in all, including the first night in the pool. Despite silent 'good-bye for evers', he always came crawling back to her because, call it cliché, he worshipped the ground she walked on. It was quite pathetic actually. But then again, she hadn't once refused his returns.
She shifted her weight onto the other foot. "Let me through that door."
He crossed his arms and stood planted in front of the latch. "Not until you answer." He was being a child. He didn't care.
Jean clenched her teeth. "Fine, you really want to know?"
"Yes, I rea-"
"What the hell was that little burst of love I was fortunate enough to be made witness to yesterday, hmm? I mean, it wasn't bad enough that she practically shoved it in my face that you two were a 'happily married couple' with wonderful little bedroom surprises, but I had to see that. And YOU initiated it!"
His shoulders slumped. "Jean, you know I can't give her any reason to doubt me. I was trying to be safe!"
She stamped her foot with one charming, tiny thud. Scott suppressed a goofy grin.
Jean knew his intentions were good. She was perhaps trying to pick a fight so they would have a reason to break off this romantic affair with a not-completely-demolished conscience. This wasn't for her. She'd been a lot of things in her life, but the other woman? Never. Jean shook her head. This deep contemplation was getting just a little too complicated.
Scott sensed her worry and closed the gap between them. "Don't touch me!" She cried suddenly. "If you touch me one more time I'll never be able to leave you. God," she squeezed her eyelids tightly, "if you knew me, really."
He smiled and grabbed her hand. She melted against him and he held her close. She pursed her lips then said, "Let me go. You don't want me. You're married. You've got a beautiful wife, a beautiful home, a beautiful family. Don't let me fuck this up for you, Scott."
He pressed his mouth hard against hers. "I don't love Wanda."
She hesitated. "And...?"
He grinned. "And I love you. I do, really. And you're so much more to me than the 'other woman.' As for not knowing the real you, tell me. I'm more than happy to listen."
She traced delicate fingers over his stern jaw line and across his temples. She inferred that his eyes were closed the way his head was tipped and his breathing ran haggard. She kissed his chin. "I'll tell you everything, but first," she captured his mouth fervently in one swift motion. Scott sensed the flavor of where her thoughts headed and was soon kissing back.
**
Bobby plopped onto the sofa unceremoniously. His eyebrows etched and wallowing in a sufficiently dampened mood from what he had just seen, the young mutant surfed channels until he was satisfied with the current hockey game. It was turned loud in hopes of drowning his sullen disposition, thus he failed to notice Rogue's entrance into the den until she took a seat beside him.
She curled her legs under her and toyed with the edge of her sock. "Hah," she murmured, and he might not have heard it over the volume had he not been straining to hear her every word.
'This is the part where she falls to her knees and begs I forgive her, promising she'll never do it again, or better yet, swearing that he had manipulated her mind in some way, shape, or form.' He scoffed inwardly. Only in Bobby's World.
He might have laughed at the silent, inadvertent joke but laughing was not among his high priorities at the moment.
"Bobby, Ah think we need to-"
He held up a hand. "No, we really don't. Let's not sprinkle salt in an open wound, eh?"
She grimaced. He could be very descriptive of his emotions when he wanted to be. "Alraght, well can Ah watch the game with yah?"
He tossed the offer around in his head. Her presence was also not on his list of high priorities--not anymore. He didn't think he could stand to be in the same room with her anymore. Not because he detested her now, or because she had some ghastly bodily odor, but because if she even so much as touched him he'd crumble like a pillar of ash. No doubt.
"Sure," he said anyway, because refusing her was just as hard as looking at her glimmering green eyes and not growing weak. Did that Remy prick deify her like he did?
It didn't matter now because she had clearly made her choice. But Bobby, like his brother, had been puppy-trained into never believing that 'he said, she said shit.' Thanks for that one, Dad. He needed to hear it for himself, straight from her mouth.
"So," his voice cut through the awkward silence he was unaware he'd created with his brooding. "You and Remy an official... whatever?"
She took a second to think about God knows what-Caleb? Her job?-and finally nodded. "Yeah, Ah think you could say that."
"I just did," he said flatly, but not with malicious intent, just raw, good ole heartbreak.
"Yes, we're an official... whatevah."
Bobby wondered why the whole mansion could not hear everything escape his body in one silently screaming, disappointing gust.
**
"Pull over. I want ice cream."
Warren glanced at his companion from the corner of his eye. "What?"
"You heard me. Ice Cream. Now." She pointed at a small countryside store with a giant ice cream cone protruding from the roof with the words BEN AND JERRY'S ICE CREAM printed proudly beneath.
Warren shrugged but pulled into the dusty parking lot, rocks and dirt flying up to meet the sides of his car. He tried to ignore it.
Ororo stepped out with languid grace that Warren could not ignore, as well as a few other men entering and exiting the small store. He considered wrapping a possessive arm round her shoulders but thought against it. He didn't have to do that and Lord knew she did not want that. So he settled on holding open the door for her, gentlemanly--not domineering, two rusty bells heralding their entrance.
Ororo stepped to the counter, perching her round black sunglasses atop her head in sharp contrast to her glorious mane of snow while she surveyed the various flavors. Warren, meanwhile, opted to use the restroom.
"Butter Pecan, one scoop, please."
The young girl with braces behind the counter hastily began digging with the scoop, awed and not a little envious of the woman's elegant beauty and perfect confidence. The shrieking bells jangled behind Ororo and she turned casually. In stepped a tall woman in a simple, cream-colored dress tight against her exaggerated curves. "There ya' go. That'll be $1.75."
Ororo turned her attention and paid the girl. She noticed Warren coming from the bathroom hall and opened her mouth to ask if he wanted anything when she noticed his eyes following the woman passing him to reach the bathrooms. She walked with an heir of undeniable power and dripped wealth. The extra sway of her rounded hips when passing the playboy did not go unnoticed to the wind-rider.
She soon disappeared into the bathrooms and Warren caught Ororo's furious azure eyes. He immediately chastised himself. She rolled her eyes and stalked back to the car; he followed.
"C'mon, 'Ro, It was nothing."
She continued licking her ice cream but no longer had a taste for it. "God, give me something a little more original." Perhaps she was being petty, after all, they'd only made love once, but she didn't care. Something inside her sparked when she saw his eyes follow that butter-skinned whore.
"It was just a glance. One glance to her," he squeezed her hand, "a serious something to you."
Ororo absorbed his words. A serious something? Serious usually sent her fleeing for the hills, but not this time.
The rolling clouds in the sky relented. Warren sighed a breath of relief.
**
Scott nibbled her ear from behind. She pressed her shoulders to her neck. "Don't." She said softly, her voice cracking. Scott's brows furrowed and he rolled her over so they faced each other. He wore his pants and she her bra and underwear. He'd covered her with his shirt since her dress was nowhere to be found just before they collapsed into slumber on the Blackbird floor. Tears were welling in her big blue eyes.
"What... What's wrong?" He inquired, hugging her close and fighting off the panic.
She wriggled from his embrace. "It's time I tell you the truth. You'll be the first." His face was etched with confusion but he held silent. She took one deep breath and the confession poured from her mouth. "Scott, I... When I was a kid, a man named Frankie Gestessi killed my father."
A pause. "Geez, I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with concern. She stopped him.
"There's more. He was involved in organized crime and the only family I had. Just three years ago, I started a little revenge spree." Jean's tone was sour and a hint of regret lurked between the lines.
Scott didn't know what to make of what she said but he had a feeling what the outcome of this little confession would be. God, please no.
"I killed his four sons." Her eyes acquired a sadly distant glaze. "Shot them point blank. The last one: Caleb Gestessi, Rogue's lover." A tear finally did escape her. "God, I'm a fucking monster. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
Scott licked his lips, unsure of what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but how could he? She was a... Hell, a goddamned murderer. A killer. He hated killers. He surely didn't love them. "Why..." he sputtered, his mind unable to word his emotions. "How could you?"
She shook her head weakly. "I'm so sorry." But she knew she was apologizing to the wrong person.
Meanwhile, Remy tossed a wrench back into his toolbox and wiped the grease from his hands with a blue rag. The garage smelt like gasoline and metal; it was divine, a place where a guy could really relax and get away from all this melodrama bullshit. No drama here-just tools, motor, and his two hands.
And a muffled voice.
He tilted his chin and sharpened his ears. "What de hell?" He muttered, dropping to his hands and knees and fumbling on the cement to follow the voices. He chuckled dryly. "Goin' crazy, homme."
He stood again and the voices were now prominent and very real. He turned his head and was faced with a small intercom. The light flashed yellow which meant it was receiving a message. Remy inferred that someone must have accidentally hit the 'Talk' button on the other line and he was therefore eavesdropping. He was about to tell them to turn it off when he caught a fascinating fragment of the conversation taking place on the other line.
"And you never told me! Or the professor?"
Remy scoffed. Scott: always the paranoid soldier boy. What that guy needed was a good fuck.
"The professor knows! He didn't want to tell Rogue because I'M going to tell her. I'll do it myself. It's MY dirty work." Remy's attention was snagged by now. Rogue's business suddenly became his business and what the hell did, Jeannie--by the sound of it--have to tell Rogue?
"And just when were you going to do that? When she was good and over him so you could scrape open an old scar?"
Remy heard tears in the telekinetic's voice and couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. "I needed time to think about it, okay? I needed to plan what I was going to say, that sort of thing!" Her defense was weak but she spat it with suck fury and hurt it was enough to make any man lay off.
Scott did indeed back down a bit. "Look, I'm not trying to be the heartless hypocrite that pretends he's never done anything wrong in his life and then kick you when you're down, but you can't expect me to just accept this with a teaspoon of sugar and hope I'll just swallow it with a grimace and then smile. This is serious shit, here! You're the goddamned Heartbreaker, Jean!"
Remy nearly flew into the wall behind him.
Her pretty eyes narrowed. "Yeah? And you're fucking the Heartbreaker, so there."
Remy's eyes doubled. Jesus P. Christ! What the hell was wrong with these people!?
Scott flinched at her harsh words but he threw back. "Don't do that. You seduced me, remember?"
Jean's jaw nearly hit the ground. "How dare you! I did no such thing. I merely offered and you were more than happy to oblige, Scott. And need I remind you who cornered who here in the Blackbird, hmm?"
"Offered? Offered! 'If you don't kiss me right now I'll leave and never come back!' THAT'S offering?"
Remy shook his head, hovering now over the intercom as a middle-aged woman hovers around the television. 'You're pat'etic, Remy.'
She looked away with indifferent eyes. "It was your decision."
He clenched his jaw. "Yeah, well, so is this." He stalked past her and slammed open the Blackbird latch. He spun to meet her angry eyes, no longer crying but hard and steely like the eyes she wore when she put bullets in four men's heads.
Remy needed a drink.
**
Bobby needed a drink. He filled a glass with brandy and settled onto one of the hall benches, lurking in the shadows and watching with tired eyes the sporadic passers. Down the hall a ways he could see Remy's door. He'd watched the filthy Cajun slip in a while ago and he'd been shacked up in there ever since. Good, maybe he's dead. Bobby flinched. It was the alcohol.
His interest piqued when a flash of crimson appeared in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the mansion's resident lovely redhead approach Remy's door and knocked twice, quietly enough to snag Bobby's curiosity.
"Remy!" She rasped, keeping her voice low and her face close against the door. When it swung open she was a bit taken aback and straightened with one swift jolt. "Remy, um, good. You're here. I... need to talk to you." Remy watched her with burning eyes. "Can I come in?"
He stepped aside and allowed her to enter.
Bobby watched with silent fascination. That goddamned dirty rat wasn't even dating Rogue a whole month and he's sleeping around on her. Bobby crept to the closed door and pressed an ear against it. Risky, he knew, but hell if he cared.
A few solemn murmurs from Jean and then creaking wood as someone moved somewhere. He was not going to resort to peeking through the keyhole. Besides, they were deadbolts--no keyholes.
Inside, Jean wrung her hands. "I think we should talk."
Remy scanned her nervous gestures with disapproving eyes. "Now is dat anyway for de infamous Heartbreaker to behave, eh?"
Jean nodded. "Thought so. I sensed you after I left the 'Bird. You're quite the onlooker." She remarked dryly.
"Yeah, well, you know me dese days. If it involves Rogue..."
"Yeah, I know, but God Remy," she rushed to him and clasped her hands. "Please, please, don't tell her. I'll take care of it. I promise I'll tell her, and soon, but I just don't want it coming from anyone's mouth but mine."
Remy blinked, rubbing his temples. "Jesus, Jean, alright. Fine, but you had better tell her and I mean soon. I shudder to t'ink what would happen if she knew I knew." He exhaled a deep breath through his teeth, clearly irritated with the entire situation. He looked up at Jean once more, this time with slightly amused eyes. "I still can't believe it. Li'l pure-bred Jeannie girl, de Heartbreaker." He lit a cigarette. "Shit, it's crazy."
She hesitated but grabbed his smoke from between slim fingers and took her own long drag. "Oh, not really all that crazy."
Bobby was nearly catatonic on the other side of the door. Holy God, did HE have something to tell Rogue. When the time was just right, of course.
**
Warren often woke up with a beautiful woman beside him two nights in a row, but now he decided he liked it when it was the same woman.
After driving a whole hour yesterday, they were currently only a measly hour from the school but her hand had been nestled comfortably on his thigh and he was finding it hard to drive straight; they couldn't hold out a whole hour.
Which explained why they laid side by side in Room 131 of a quaint little bed 'n breakfast, the morning sun peeking through their curtains. "Are we going to make it home today, Worthington?"
He bit his lip musingly. "Sure hope so." He hugged a pillow while she stood and dressed.
They were definitely going to make it home because she could not be in those clothes for one more day. "Do you think they miss us?" She asked, finger-combing her eggshell-colored locks.
He shook his head and pulled her back into bed. She tumbled on top of him and swatted him playfully. "They're too wrapped up in their own little personal affairs. Next time on Days of our Mutant Lives..." his voice trailed off when she erupted into a fit of giggles.
"You're too much, Warren." She laughed.
Their door burst open and three masked men filed in. A needle was jabbed into both mutants' necks before either could react. They went lifeless within approximately twelve seconds.
"Storm and Angel are down."
"Good," came the voice from the other end of the communicator. "Escort them to their new accommodations."
**
The blonde woman stood at the mansion's tall iron gate. Her limousine driver shifted impatiently behind her. "Miss...?"
She cocked a brow but did not turn. "You may go." Her voice was sharp but not necessarily cold, just resolute. The timid man nodded behind her and sped away.
She focused back on the iron bars and extended a long finger to press the 'Talk' button on the intercom.
"Emma Frost to see Professor Charles Xavier."
My Ramblings~
Hi Hi Hi There! (A few of you have caught on to my Clockwork Orange references... veeeery perceptive:) But that's neither here nor there; how goes it so far? I know the cliffhanger is monstrous but you know me: sick, twisted, evil, etc. I love to hear your comments through reviews and e-mails. You guys rock!
As always, puhleeeze REVIEW! I won't beg...
Yes I will. PUHLEEZE!