* * *
Ah arrived in English class all flustered an' out o' breath. No one seemed ta notice an' Ah dropped into my customary chair at the back o' the room, grateful again for the willful blindness o' the public education system.
"Alie tech tuigthe tecchartha," Mr. Owens was sayin'. For a minute Ah was afraid Ah'd stumbled into the wrong class.
Then the door kinda banged open an' Remy was there in my class. For a second Ah was afraid he'd followed me, just so he could get the truth 'bout the necklace. Ah half-rose in my seat, prepared ta get him out o' there, with force if necessary.
Across the room, Kitty looked back an' forth between me an' Remy before shootin' me a "what-th'-hell's-goin'-on here?" look. Ah shrugged at her an' refocused my attention on Remy. Seemed like he hadn't even seen me though.
"Dis honors English?" he asked. He seemed in control, but Ah could see that his chest was risin' an' fallin' a little faster than normal an' Ah guessed he'd run from the cafeteria.
"Yes, it is," Mr. Owens replied evenly. The look on his face made it seem like he didn't believe Remy could belong in th' class.
Remy dug in his pocket an' pulled out a schedule so crumpled it looked like he'd been chewin' on it in his spare time.
"Remy LeBeau," he said, with a little flourish. Ah could tell he was fightin' th' urge ta ham it up with a bow or somethin'.
"Ah, Mister LeBeau. I was wondering if you'd show up."
"First day," he said, givin' that effortless, elegant shrug that still had the power ta annoy me. Then he smiled an' Ah swear some o' the girls in class sat up a little straighter. "I'll do better tomorrow, I promise."
"Right. You can grab a Norton anthology off the back ledge and turn to page 487. We were just about to discuss Courtney Bambrick's poem, My Address." Remy did what Mr. Owens asked without a word. Ah have ta say Ah was astonished. Hard as it was ta picture Remy in school, Ah never woulda pegged him for a serious student, or even a halfway serious one. Not in a million years. "You can take the empty seat behind Ms. Pryde there."
Remy looked over at Kitty. She gave him a little wave an' he winked at her 'causin' about a million angry looks from some o' the other girls. Felt a little prick o' jealousy at that. Not that he even knew Ah was there, but Kitty was perky an' pretty. She reminded me o' Bella in a lot o' ways, or mebbe how Bella might have been away from the Assassins an' the blood feuds. Relaxed an' girlish.
Ah told myself it was nonsense an' Ah sat back in my chair a little. Watchin' th' other girls watch Remy was almost as good as goin' ta the circus.
"Alie tech tuigthe tecchartha..." Mr. Owens repeated. "I ask for a thatch- sheltered house..." Workin' quickly, Ah flipped ta the right page an' skimmed the poem. Here an' there, phrases jumped out at me: "the foot of the / compass holding," "Under / creased, clean sheets," "I make my bed / new each night. I ache / to make it old."
When Ah was done, Ah was free ta look around the classroom. Ah saw Kitty scribblin' frantically on a piece of paper an' as Ah watched, she finished up, folded th' paper into a neat square an' dropped it on Remy's desk. He opened it, read with interest, wrote somethin' of his own an' passed th' note back ta her. Ah wondered if they were passin' notes about me, wonderin' what was wrong. Ah looked down at my book an' fumed, knowin' my anger an' fear were irrational but unable ta do anythin' about 'em.
"Mister LeBeau," Mr. Owens said an' my head snapped up, wonderin' if they'd been caught, "why don't you tell us your impressions of the poem?"
"Trial by fire, hein?"
"Something like that. Let's just say I place a lot of value on class participation."
"Mais (well), de first t'ing dat grabbed me was de use of Gaelic in de opening stanza. I t'ink dat does two t'ings for de poem: as de language of Irish Nationalism, it sets de mood of longing for a place t' belong and den it also puts de reader outside de poem, so dat we become alienated from de poem just like de poet is alienated from her surroundings."
Mr. Owens looked amazed. Ah cheered silently for Remy.
"Any...anything else?"
Another shrug. "De bit about digging reminded me of dat poem by Seamus Heaney, but I'd have t' t'ink 'bout dat for a bit before I decide if it means anyt'ing."
Remy was waitin' for me after class. He touched my arm an' Ah tried not ta flinch away, but Ah think he could tell because he took his hand away almost immediately.
"Didn't see y' 'till de end of class, beb."
"Ya seemed ta be havin' enough fun on your own," Ah replied. It was mostly unsarcastic. "Didn't want ta interrupt your grand entrance or anythin'."
He smiled. "Dat Mr. Owens a handful."
"Yeah, he can be kind of a hard ass, but he's a real good teacher most o' the time."
"Just don't like people lookin' at me like I don't belong."
"Ah guess ya convinced him you're worthy. What was all that stuff about Gaelic an' Seamus Heaney?"
Remy looked embarrassed an' rubbed th' back o' his neck. "Dat was all Bella. She went t'rough a 'European' phase once and read her way across starting wit' Ireland. Not sure if she ever made it t' Russia though. Dere was a time when y' couldn't talk t' her wit'out her spouting off some poem or line from a book. She even got me interested. Some of it's not too bad."
Bullied him into readin' was probably more like it, knowin' Bella, but Ah didn't want him ta know Ah thought that.
"You an' Kitty seemed ta keep busy enough," Ah said casually.
He looked at me sharply. "Don't start seeing t'ings dat aren't dere, okay? Kitty wanted t' know about de soufflé. Remember dat?"
"Yeah."
"We're in de class together."
"Oh."
"Mebbe y' want t' tell me what y' wanted t' say at lunch?"
"Ye...yeah." But right up against it, th' words seemed too big an' my nerve slipped again. "After school, okay? Ah'll meet ya."
* * *
De rest of de time crawled by, wit' each second seeming wrung from de clock, but finally de day was over and de halls were bursting wit' students dat seemed happier and more energetic den I'd seen dem all day. Didn't want t' take chances, so I met Rogue at her locker, waiting while she packed up her bag.
We turned up our collars and stepped into de cold outside. Scott was waiting dere, de hood on his car up. Jean sat in de passenger's seat wit de window rolled down. Scott leaned over and called t' Rogue.
"You comin'?" he asked.
"Nah, Remy's givin' me a ride."
Scott looked at me dubiously. Wanted t' dislike de boy, but I couldn't. Dere was hardly enough dere t' dislike. He was like toast: a good base for a lot of t'ings, but hardly de main attraction. Was obvious dat he didn't t'ink too much of me.
"Suit yourself," he finally said.
Jean rolled up de window and dey took off, mebbe a little faster dan he'd planned. De back of his car fishtailed slightly on de pavement, wet wit' melting snow.
"Ya know this ain't in season," Rogue commented when we reached my motorcycle. She smiled t' let me know she was kidding.
"I'll remember t' be more fashionable next time. Y' want t' drive?"
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "Ya haven't...Ah mean, did Logan tell ya about that time that Ah..."
She was nervous an' babbling. Not nervous 'bout de bike and not about only de collar either, but I figured dat she'd tell me in time what de real problem was. Impulsively, I leaned in and covered her mouth wit' mine. Was a quick kiss t' get her attention.
At least it was supposed t' be.
After a second of surprise, she knotted her hands in my hair, tugging enough t' hurt. Her lower lip between my teeth, I bit down harder dan I'd intended and she exclaimed softly, pulling our bodies tightly together. Even t'rough de heavy coats I could still feel her shape. Her lips slid down my jaw t' my neck and her tongue traced a vein. I shivered and stroked her sides, stopping just at de swell of her breasts.
We were propped against de seat on my bike. Dere was somet'ing poking into me, but she nipped my neck and I forgot all 'bout dat. Stretched my fingers across her chest and she stopped what she was doing long enough t' gasp. Was like magic, when her lips left my neck I suddenly remembered where we were. Looked over Rogue's shoulder t' see Kurt staring wide-eyed. Amanda was wit' him, her back t' us, and when he nudged her she turned around and waved cheerfully. I waved back.
Looked at Rogue. Her lips were pink from kissing and her eyelids looked heavy. Dangerous.
"Better get home before we're arrested, neh?" I suggested.
"Whatever ya want," she said. She grabbed de keys out of my hand, jumped on de bike and started it smoothly. "You're comin', right?"
"Try and stop me." I jumped on behind her and wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. She felt warm, de heat from her body was practically scorching my face, and a good t'ing too because de drive back was into de wind. I buried my face in de back of her coat and t'ought of summer.
It was nearly half an hour after we arrived back at de Institute before we could find time t' talk. De new recruits were down in de Danger Room and so dat left de rest of de house relatively empty. Not wanting Kurt or Kitty t' walk in uninvited, we chose Jubilee's room, figuring she'd be de least likely t' notice if somet'ing was out of place.
We sat cross legged on de floor, facing each other.
"So..." I began.
"So what?" Rogue was examining her nails.
I caught her chin and forced her t' look at me. "Don't make dis harder dan it has t' be."
She sighed, pulling de sound from somewhere deep inside. "You're right. Ah mean ya told me 'bout you an' John an' Ah owe it ta you ta be honest." She tilted her hips toward me and eased de necklace out of her pocket, and den she sat dere, spilling it from hand t' hand.
"Stop," I suggested, stilling her hands wit' mine and taking de necklace gently from her. "Y' know somet'ing 'bout dis, Rogue."
She pressed her lips into a tight line and nodded. It occurred t' me dat I'd never seen her so scared.
"Ah...Ah have one," she said quietly.
"I know."
Den she looked up at me, a flash of anger in her eyes that quickly died. Dat scared me even more. "Well then what the hell did ya want me ta tell ya for?"
"I only just figured it out today. At lunch. But what I don't know is where y' got it or what it does."
Her eyes were watery, but de whole story came tumbling out den: de woods, de Professor, stealing de collar and testing it, her happiness when she figured out dat it worked.
"We don't have ta tell the others, right? We can figure out what it is an' not tell 'em. Ah wouldn't tell anyone 'bout you an' John."
"We can. But y' can't use it anymore," I told her sternly. "It comes from Magneto and we don't know what else it could do."
"You're right. Ah know you're right, but it just seemed so amazin' at first. Like a dream."
"Touched her cheek and she leaned into my hand. "I know."
"Ah wanted ta be just like a regular person for awhile. Just for a laugh, Ah wanted us ta be normal." She swallowed hard. "Ah want you ta take it off." Wasn't sure if it was because she didn't t'ink she had de will t' do it or if she didn't want de decision t' be only hers, but I got up and moved so I could crouch behind her. Trailed my fingers along de side of her neck and I felt de fine hairs prick up. "Ready?" I asked her.
"Yeah."
I lifted up her hair.
"Rogue?" I asked, trying hard t' keep panic from my voice.
"What is it?"
"I don't see it."
"What?" I heard her breath coming in shallow, frightened gasps.
"It isn't dere." Touched her neck and den I knew de whole story. De necklace was dere, nestled under her skin. Could feel de hard bump against my hand.
* * *
What's this I hear about no more evo eps 'till spring?! We are not amused, that's all I can say. Well, I'll just have to get my fix by pretending that fanfic = reality and this is all just some transcribed episode... Either that or I'm off to cry in the corner now.
Oh! In my sorrow I almost forgot that "My Address," the poem (or portions of poem) in this part is an actual piece. It was published in my college's lit mag when I was a freshman and I liked it so much that I stuck it in my fictive Norton Anthology. So all that's the property of Courtney Bambrick.
ishandahalf: Some ubermushiness here, coupled with...plot twists! ah hahahahaha! I'm glad you like my Remy. I'm partial to him myself and I personally believe he's got his insecurities (don't we all??). But, y'know, Remy wouldn't be Remy unless he could fascinate a room full of girls. ;-)
Roguechere: Old suspense over. Long live new suspense! The hard thing to do with a longer story, I'm discovering, is keeping the tension up. Like things should be happening all the time, but if TOO many things happen and you have too many threads to weave together it just never happens, or it takes like a zillion chapters to do it.
Lady MR: I've seen it hypothesized that the comic-verse St. John has a thing for Mystique (she being the only discernable reason he joined the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants) and I thought it might be interesting to play with it here. Nothing will be overt ever, of course, but it helps me to get more of a grasp of St. John's motivations. Just to clear things up vis a vis the sex issue (young'uns shield your eyes now): no, they didn't go "all the way" (i.e. penetrative sex), I don't think that Rogue could downshift that fast-- going from not being able to touch anyone to sex is a BIG step and I don't think she's ready; I DO think they "fooled around" in a pretty serious way. I'm glad that Remy was honest too, but I think he realized that the only way to gain Rogue's trust was to be honest with her, and moreover to be honest first.
Sujakata: Thanks! I'm never sure how to feel about Remy's "charm" power. It seems to come and go. But now all the secrets are out and they'll have to deal with the new development together. I'm finding it challenging to write a balanced story. As I mentioned before, the first story in this series was Rogue's and the second was Remy's and so this is supposed to be about both of them. I always tend to pull one way or the other rather than walk that line in between.
starlightz6: Things are certainly out in the open now, or rather they're not since the necklace is kind of stuck where it is.
Neurotic Temptress: I like my Remy imperfect. A lot of comic writers make him TOO suave, not that he isn't, but he's only human...er...mutant and they're fallible too (glares at comic writers). I'll work on writing that crappy chapter for ya. Perhaps this is the one. ;)
Panther Nesmeth: See comment to ishandahalf on the ubermushiness. Maybe it's because I'm not ubermushy myself? I always have to qualify the romantic scenes with the plot driven scenes. Bobby dancing nude to...hee. Woo. Um, I probably won't be writing THAT scene too soon, so don't worry.
evolutionary spider: I don't know how much they trust the other x-men. Especially Scott & Jean. When I write them it's like they have minds of their own. I have embarrassingly little control over the actions of Remy and/or Rogue. I am a big, phony, pretends-like-she's-in-charge author. ;-)
Vagabond: Understandable. I had a horrible time even posting that part. (grumbles about ff.net) Some parts just take a bit longer to coalesce than others I suppose.
Lace123: How's the end of THIS chapter for a hook? This is the stage I wanted to get to with the necklace since the beginning. In fact, I had to restrain myself from putting it in earlier because I wanted narrative precedent, a suspenseful buildup and whatnot.
girl4chat86: Thanks! I love all my regular reviewers (you guys are the best! mwa!) And it's always nice to hear from new people.
Christy S: Confrontation over and done with. New problems await on the horizon for our intrepid heroes.
Jean 1: I love me some Gambit the cook too. I still remember that Christmas episode from the old show where he and Jean were fighting in the kitchen because he said she didn't know how to cook properly. Ha! The rest of the episode was kind of.forgettable, but I'll remember those scenes forever.
Flyby Stardancer: Y'know, I love plotless romance too. I just can't write it for the life of me. But that's okay. To each her own.
Freeverse: Always nice to run across a fellow comics nerd. (Although DC is more the source of my nerdliness.) I am much saddened by the non-presence of Remy or Rogue in X-Treme these days. Sniff.
Ah arrived in English class all flustered an' out o' breath. No one seemed ta notice an' Ah dropped into my customary chair at the back o' the room, grateful again for the willful blindness o' the public education system.
"Alie tech tuigthe tecchartha," Mr. Owens was sayin'. For a minute Ah was afraid Ah'd stumbled into the wrong class.
Then the door kinda banged open an' Remy was there in my class. For a second Ah was afraid he'd followed me, just so he could get the truth 'bout the necklace. Ah half-rose in my seat, prepared ta get him out o' there, with force if necessary.
Across the room, Kitty looked back an' forth between me an' Remy before shootin' me a "what-th'-hell's-goin'-on here?" look. Ah shrugged at her an' refocused my attention on Remy. Seemed like he hadn't even seen me though.
"Dis honors English?" he asked. He seemed in control, but Ah could see that his chest was risin' an' fallin' a little faster than normal an' Ah guessed he'd run from the cafeteria.
"Yes, it is," Mr. Owens replied evenly. The look on his face made it seem like he didn't believe Remy could belong in th' class.
Remy dug in his pocket an' pulled out a schedule so crumpled it looked like he'd been chewin' on it in his spare time.
"Remy LeBeau," he said, with a little flourish. Ah could tell he was fightin' th' urge ta ham it up with a bow or somethin'.
"Ah, Mister LeBeau. I was wondering if you'd show up."
"First day," he said, givin' that effortless, elegant shrug that still had the power ta annoy me. Then he smiled an' Ah swear some o' the girls in class sat up a little straighter. "I'll do better tomorrow, I promise."
"Right. You can grab a Norton anthology off the back ledge and turn to page 487. We were just about to discuss Courtney Bambrick's poem, My Address." Remy did what Mr. Owens asked without a word. Ah have ta say Ah was astonished. Hard as it was ta picture Remy in school, Ah never woulda pegged him for a serious student, or even a halfway serious one. Not in a million years. "You can take the empty seat behind Ms. Pryde there."
Remy looked over at Kitty. She gave him a little wave an' he winked at her 'causin' about a million angry looks from some o' the other girls. Felt a little prick o' jealousy at that. Not that he even knew Ah was there, but Kitty was perky an' pretty. She reminded me o' Bella in a lot o' ways, or mebbe how Bella might have been away from the Assassins an' the blood feuds. Relaxed an' girlish.
Ah told myself it was nonsense an' Ah sat back in my chair a little. Watchin' th' other girls watch Remy was almost as good as goin' ta the circus.
"Alie tech tuigthe tecchartha..." Mr. Owens repeated. "I ask for a thatch- sheltered house..." Workin' quickly, Ah flipped ta the right page an' skimmed the poem. Here an' there, phrases jumped out at me: "the foot of the / compass holding," "Under / creased, clean sheets," "I make my bed / new each night. I ache / to make it old."
When Ah was done, Ah was free ta look around the classroom. Ah saw Kitty scribblin' frantically on a piece of paper an' as Ah watched, she finished up, folded th' paper into a neat square an' dropped it on Remy's desk. He opened it, read with interest, wrote somethin' of his own an' passed th' note back ta her. Ah wondered if they were passin' notes about me, wonderin' what was wrong. Ah looked down at my book an' fumed, knowin' my anger an' fear were irrational but unable ta do anythin' about 'em.
"Mister LeBeau," Mr. Owens said an' my head snapped up, wonderin' if they'd been caught, "why don't you tell us your impressions of the poem?"
"Trial by fire, hein?"
"Something like that. Let's just say I place a lot of value on class participation."
"Mais (well), de first t'ing dat grabbed me was de use of Gaelic in de opening stanza. I t'ink dat does two t'ings for de poem: as de language of Irish Nationalism, it sets de mood of longing for a place t' belong and den it also puts de reader outside de poem, so dat we become alienated from de poem just like de poet is alienated from her surroundings."
Mr. Owens looked amazed. Ah cheered silently for Remy.
"Any...anything else?"
Another shrug. "De bit about digging reminded me of dat poem by Seamus Heaney, but I'd have t' t'ink 'bout dat for a bit before I decide if it means anyt'ing."
Remy was waitin' for me after class. He touched my arm an' Ah tried not ta flinch away, but Ah think he could tell because he took his hand away almost immediately.
"Didn't see y' 'till de end of class, beb."
"Ya seemed ta be havin' enough fun on your own," Ah replied. It was mostly unsarcastic. "Didn't want ta interrupt your grand entrance or anythin'."
He smiled. "Dat Mr. Owens a handful."
"Yeah, he can be kind of a hard ass, but he's a real good teacher most o' the time."
"Just don't like people lookin' at me like I don't belong."
"Ah guess ya convinced him you're worthy. What was all that stuff about Gaelic an' Seamus Heaney?"
Remy looked embarrassed an' rubbed th' back o' his neck. "Dat was all Bella. She went t'rough a 'European' phase once and read her way across starting wit' Ireland. Not sure if she ever made it t' Russia though. Dere was a time when y' couldn't talk t' her wit'out her spouting off some poem or line from a book. She even got me interested. Some of it's not too bad."
Bullied him into readin' was probably more like it, knowin' Bella, but Ah didn't want him ta know Ah thought that.
"You an' Kitty seemed ta keep busy enough," Ah said casually.
He looked at me sharply. "Don't start seeing t'ings dat aren't dere, okay? Kitty wanted t' know about de soufflé. Remember dat?"
"Yeah."
"We're in de class together."
"Oh."
"Mebbe y' want t' tell me what y' wanted t' say at lunch?"
"Ye...yeah." But right up against it, th' words seemed too big an' my nerve slipped again. "After school, okay? Ah'll meet ya."
* * *
De rest of de time crawled by, wit' each second seeming wrung from de clock, but finally de day was over and de halls were bursting wit' students dat seemed happier and more energetic den I'd seen dem all day. Didn't want t' take chances, so I met Rogue at her locker, waiting while she packed up her bag.
We turned up our collars and stepped into de cold outside. Scott was waiting dere, de hood on his car up. Jean sat in de passenger's seat wit de window rolled down. Scott leaned over and called t' Rogue.
"You comin'?" he asked.
"Nah, Remy's givin' me a ride."
Scott looked at me dubiously. Wanted t' dislike de boy, but I couldn't. Dere was hardly enough dere t' dislike. He was like toast: a good base for a lot of t'ings, but hardly de main attraction. Was obvious dat he didn't t'ink too much of me.
"Suit yourself," he finally said.
Jean rolled up de window and dey took off, mebbe a little faster dan he'd planned. De back of his car fishtailed slightly on de pavement, wet wit' melting snow.
"Ya know this ain't in season," Rogue commented when we reached my motorcycle. She smiled t' let me know she was kidding.
"I'll remember t' be more fashionable next time. Y' want t' drive?"
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "Ya haven't...Ah mean, did Logan tell ya about that time that Ah..."
She was nervous an' babbling. Not nervous 'bout de bike and not about only de collar either, but I figured dat she'd tell me in time what de real problem was. Impulsively, I leaned in and covered her mouth wit' mine. Was a quick kiss t' get her attention.
At least it was supposed t' be.
After a second of surprise, she knotted her hands in my hair, tugging enough t' hurt. Her lower lip between my teeth, I bit down harder dan I'd intended and she exclaimed softly, pulling our bodies tightly together. Even t'rough de heavy coats I could still feel her shape. Her lips slid down my jaw t' my neck and her tongue traced a vein. I shivered and stroked her sides, stopping just at de swell of her breasts.
We were propped against de seat on my bike. Dere was somet'ing poking into me, but she nipped my neck and I forgot all 'bout dat. Stretched my fingers across her chest and she stopped what she was doing long enough t' gasp. Was like magic, when her lips left my neck I suddenly remembered where we were. Looked over Rogue's shoulder t' see Kurt staring wide-eyed. Amanda was wit' him, her back t' us, and when he nudged her she turned around and waved cheerfully. I waved back.
Looked at Rogue. Her lips were pink from kissing and her eyelids looked heavy. Dangerous.
"Better get home before we're arrested, neh?" I suggested.
"Whatever ya want," she said. She grabbed de keys out of my hand, jumped on de bike and started it smoothly. "You're comin', right?"
"Try and stop me." I jumped on behind her and wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. She felt warm, de heat from her body was practically scorching my face, and a good t'ing too because de drive back was into de wind. I buried my face in de back of her coat and t'ought of summer.
It was nearly half an hour after we arrived back at de Institute before we could find time t' talk. De new recruits were down in de Danger Room and so dat left de rest of de house relatively empty. Not wanting Kurt or Kitty t' walk in uninvited, we chose Jubilee's room, figuring she'd be de least likely t' notice if somet'ing was out of place.
We sat cross legged on de floor, facing each other.
"So..." I began.
"So what?" Rogue was examining her nails.
I caught her chin and forced her t' look at me. "Don't make dis harder dan it has t' be."
She sighed, pulling de sound from somewhere deep inside. "You're right. Ah mean ya told me 'bout you an' John an' Ah owe it ta you ta be honest." She tilted her hips toward me and eased de necklace out of her pocket, and den she sat dere, spilling it from hand t' hand.
"Stop," I suggested, stilling her hands wit' mine and taking de necklace gently from her. "Y' know somet'ing 'bout dis, Rogue."
She pressed her lips into a tight line and nodded. It occurred t' me dat I'd never seen her so scared.
"Ah...Ah have one," she said quietly.
"I know."
Den she looked up at me, a flash of anger in her eyes that quickly died. Dat scared me even more. "Well then what the hell did ya want me ta tell ya for?"
"I only just figured it out today. At lunch. But what I don't know is where y' got it or what it does."
Her eyes were watery, but de whole story came tumbling out den: de woods, de Professor, stealing de collar and testing it, her happiness when she figured out dat it worked.
"We don't have ta tell the others, right? We can figure out what it is an' not tell 'em. Ah wouldn't tell anyone 'bout you an' John."
"We can. But y' can't use it anymore," I told her sternly. "It comes from Magneto and we don't know what else it could do."
"You're right. Ah know you're right, but it just seemed so amazin' at first. Like a dream."
"Touched her cheek and she leaned into my hand. "I know."
"Ah wanted ta be just like a regular person for awhile. Just for a laugh, Ah wanted us ta be normal." She swallowed hard. "Ah want you ta take it off." Wasn't sure if it was because she didn't t'ink she had de will t' do it or if she didn't want de decision t' be only hers, but I got up and moved so I could crouch behind her. Trailed my fingers along de side of her neck and I felt de fine hairs prick up. "Ready?" I asked her.
"Yeah."
I lifted up her hair.
"Rogue?" I asked, trying hard t' keep panic from my voice.
"What is it?"
"I don't see it."
"What?" I heard her breath coming in shallow, frightened gasps.
"It isn't dere." Touched her neck and den I knew de whole story. De necklace was dere, nestled under her skin. Could feel de hard bump against my hand.
* * *
What's this I hear about no more evo eps 'till spring?! We are not amused, that's all I can say. Well, I'll just have to get my fix by pretending that fanfic = reality and this is all just some transcribed episode... Either that or I'm off to cry in the corner now.
Oh! In my sorrow I almost forgot that "My Address," the poem (or portions of poem) in this part is an actual piece. It was published in my college's lit mag when I was a freshman and I liked it so much that I stuck it in my fictive Norton Anthology. So all that's the property of Courtney Bambrick.
ishandahalf: Some ubermushiness here, coupled with...plot twists! ah hahahahaha! I'm glad you like my Remy. I'm partial to him myself and I personally believe he's got his insecurities (don't we all??). But, y'know, Remy wouldn't be Remy unless he could fascinate a room full of girls. ;-)
Roguechere: Old suspense over. Long live new suspense! The hard thing to do with a longer story, I'm discovering, is keeping the tension up. Like things should be happening all the time, but if TOO many things happen and you have too many threads to weave together it just never happens, or it takes like a zillion chapters to do it.
Lady MR: I've seen it hypothesized that the comic-verse St. John has a thing for Mystique (she being the only discernable reason he joined the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants) and I thought it might be interesting to play with it here. Nothing will be overt ever, of course, but it helps me to get more of a grasp of St. John's motivations. Just to clear things up vis a vis the sex issue (young'uns shield your eyes now): no, they didn't go "all the way" (i.e. penetrative sex), I don't think that Rogue could downshift that fast-- going from not being able to touch anyone to sex is a BIG step and I don't think she's ready; I DO think they "fooled around" in a pretty serious way. I'm glad that Remy was honest too, but I think he realized that the only way to gain Rogue's trust was to be honest with her, and moreover to be honest first.
Sujakata: Thanks! I'm never sure how to feel about Remy's "charm" power. It seems to come and go. But now all the secrets are out and they'll have to deal with the new development together. I'm finding it challenging to write a balanced story. As I mentioned before, the first story in this series was Rogue's and the second was Remy's and so this is supposed to be about both of them. I always tend to pull one way or the other rather than walk that line in between.
starlightz6: Things are certainly out in the open now, or rather they're not since the necklace is kind of stuck where it is.
Neurotic Temptress: I like my Remy imperfect. A lot of comic writers make him TOO suave, not that he isn't, but he's only human...er...mutant and they're fallible too (glares at comic writers). I'll work on writing that crappy chapter for ya. Perhaps this is the one. ;)
Panther Nesmeth: See comment to ishandahalf on the ubermushiness. Maybe it's because I'm not ubermushy myself? I always have to qualify the romantic scenes with the plot driven scenes. Bobby dancing nude to...hee. Woo. Um, I probably won't be writing THAT scene too soon, so don't worry.
evolutionary spider: I don't know how much they trust the other x-men. Especially Scott & Jean. When I write them it's like they have minds of their own. I have embarrassingly little control over the actions of Remy and/or Rogue. I am a big, phony, pretends-like-she's-in-charge author. ;-)
Vagabond: Understandable. I had a horrible time even posting that part. (grumbles about ff.net) Some parts just take a bit longer to coalesce than others I suppose.
Lace123: How's the end of THIS chapter for a hook? This is the stage I wanted to get to with the necklace since the beginning. In fact, I had to restrain myself from putting it in earlier because I wanted narrative precedent, a suspenseful buildup and whatnot.
girl4chat86: Thanks! I love all my regular reviewers (you guys are the best! mwa!) And it's always nice to hear from new people.
Christy S: Confrontation over and done with. New problems await on the horizon for our intrepid heroes.
Jean 1: I love me some Gambit the cook too. I still remember that Christmas episode from the old show where he and Jean were fighting in the kitchen because he said she didn't know how to cook properly. Ha! The rest of the episode was kind of.forgettable, but I'll remember those scenes forever.
Flyby Stardancer: Y'know, I love plotless romance too. I just can't write it for the life of me. But that's okay. To each her own.
Freeverse: Always nice to run across a fellow comics nerd. (Although DC is more the source of my nerdliness.) I am much saddened by the non-presence of Remy or Rogue in X-Treme these days. Sniff.