Snow in April: A Wedding Story
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.
Chapter Nineteen: Countdown to Doomsday
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April 1, 2003
When Jean came into my shared room, I was sitting on the floor, wondering about John, thinking about his feelings and how truly demeaning I was towards them. The disappointed look on his face stayed imprinted in my brain, causing me to yelp when Jean tapped my shoulder. She, in turn, yelled back, startled.
"Jean!" I screamed, trying to regain my heart beat, "What are you -doing-??"
She smiled, holding out a sealed envelope. "Just wanted to come up and invite you to my bachelorette party." Taking the envelope, I ripped open the seal and took out the card. Scanning it with an impervious eye, I looked back at her, wondering.
"Something wrong, Rogue? You look beaten," she said, her voice low with suspicion. I waved her off.
"With a stick or a bat?" She studied me, digressing.
"More like a lead pipe." I whacked her knee with the invitation and she chortled. "But seriously, what's wrong? You look more sullen than you really are." Grumbling, I got up and sat on my bed.
"Nothing that I need to tell you." She frowned at my resistance and pulled at my sleeve.
"C'mon, Rogue. It can't be that bad," she crooned. I looked at her and shrugged.
"I said, it's nothing that I need to tell you." Getting the message, she quickly breathed out and headed toward the door.
"Fine. Call me on my cell to verify your coming to my party." Then she sniffed and was on her way. Looking back down at the invitation, I read:
You are invited to: Jean's Bachelorette Party
When: Saturday April 12, 2003
Where: The Marriott Hotel, in their reserved plaza
What time: 8:00 p.m. to Midnight
R.S.V.P.: (125)-527-2314 [Jean's Cell]
Oh, boy. I bet Jean wants me there, but I'm really into refusing right now. Therefore, I'll just have to see.
April 2, 2003
After school, Jean held another wedding rehearsal, and it ran smoothly, though throughout the whole practice, Jean was a bit testy since John hadn't shown up for it. Partially, I believe it's because of me.
April 3, 2003
Today, Jean took us for a final suit up with our dresses at Danlie's. I guess it went okay, except when Jean told us to regroup, Ororo didn't appear with the rest of the bridesmaid. So then, Jean strode back to the fitting rooms and found Ororo struggling to zip her dress's zipper.
"Ororo?" she asked, coming inside. I had followed, along with Logan, who came to see what was the matter. Ororo, first seeing Jean, tensed immediately. "What's wrong?"
"It seems," Ororo started, once again trying to zip the dress behind her, "it seems that I have a bit of a difficulty trying to zip this dress." Jean offered to give her a hand and pulled and heaved to no avail. For five minutes this went on, anticipation growing weary on the two as Logan covered his eyes (but whether in shame or amusement, I'm not sure), and finally, Jean gave it a hefty pull and there was a deafening RIP! before Ororo's dress came apart.
That's when Jean started scolding Ororo and asking what has she been eating all throughout these several months. Before Ororo could answer though, Logan stepped in, and said, "I think you both had enough today. Just get a bigger size, Jean, that's all." He didn't cuss her out, but simply brought Ororo's clothes over to her while Jean exited the dressing rooms, completely baffled.
"How could she have gained so much weight?" she asked me, a streak of confusion across her face, "she was always so lithe..."
For once, I had to agree to Jean. And the whole fatherly-Logan was weird too.
Something is definitely not right here.
April 4, 2003
When I came in after school, I found Piotr sitting on my bed, a box of chocolate across from him, with Kitty digging into her closet.
"How 'bout this one?" she asked, holding out one of Jean's dresses. When she saw me, she dropped the dress and let out a nervous giggle.
"Rogue!" A blush crossed her face as she kicked the clothes back in the closet. For the sake of the moment, I crossed my arms across my chest and rose an eyebrow.
"What's going on in here?" I asked both of them. Piotr cleared his throat and spoke up: "Kitty was trying to show me what she was going to wear to Jean's bachelorette party." I glared at her.
"You're actually going?" Kitty shrugged, as if she could've cared less.
"Well, like, everyone is." I looked over at what she had in the closet. Piles of pink and white shirts and skirts covered the ground, and I pouted at the mess.
"Kitty," I said, shaking my head, "what closet have you been through?!" She put her head down, guiltily. Piotr was about to rise to her defense, but I held up my hand and continued, "Jean has a hoard of gorgeous dresses you haven't encountered!" At this, Kitty, smiled and followed me to Jean's room.
It was as clean as the rec room. The bed was made, the sheets weren't wrinkled at the ends, the mirror was well wiped from fingerprints (if there had been any), the vanity well kept with a clock and picture of Remy and her at the corner of the desk. I held back a frown as I pointed to the closet. Kitty immediately invaded the space, parting the hangers and staring at the dresses. Taking a particular dress illustrating red roses, she beamed and raced back into our room to change. Piotr was standing by the door, but he didn't walk off after Kitty. Coming into the room, he glanced around and a look of curiosity crossed his face.
"Jean really is tidy." Then to me, he nodded. "Thank you. Kitty was wondering if she could take another dress."
"Jean won't even notice," I said, so casually it scared even me. Looking at the picture with Jean and Remy, I sighed, sadly. "It's so close." Piotr once again nodded.
"I know." Putting a hand on my shoulder, he smiled and went across the hall to where Kitty was calling him. I watched, knowing he knew my infatuation. But like Kurt, he also knew it was more than that. He knew that it hurt me to see Remy with someone so perfect that it made ME look bad. Turning away, I looked back at the picture frame.
It was turned face-down.
***
When I finally came back, Kitty had taken a break from her dressing-up and was sitting next to Piotr, eating the chocolate.
"Good news," she said. Walking in more, I could see she and Piotr were holding hands, "We both decided that that dress was perfect for such a night."
"Glad to hear it," I said, toying with my gloves. It was a nervous habit that I developed after the years of wearing them. Every time I get too sentimental, I get a bit nervous with myself and start picking at them. Kitty knew this and smiled.
"Um, Rogue. We were going out tomorrow night and well, we were wondering if you could come along."
"As what?" I asked, unsure with the question, "your chaperone?" Kitty and Piotr exchanged glances.
"Well," Kitty said, putting the chocolates aside. She gestured at them, but I refused. "No. But you're, like, always spending your Saturdays moping around and, like, it isn't healthy." Piotr nodded. Still toying with my gloves, I shrugged.
"Okay," I said, but pointed a strict finger at them, "but none of that kissing stuff." Piotr laughed, and I was shocked. He never laughs.
"If you come as our friend," he said, smiling big, "not a chaperone." We shook hands on it and I took a chocolate, satisfied. But, Kitty was right. Saturdays are always vacant on my calendar. This should help me forget my problems - for now.
April 5, 2003
Jean pulled me out of going out with them. And for what? What could possibly be more important than going out on a Friday night?
"How about my wedding?" she asked me. So she then drove me down to a Beauty Salon and got my hair and nails done.
And you could guess what color my nails are right now.
Pink.
April 6, 2003
I am stunned.
I mean, usually I'd be feeling what has been going on for quite some time, but I never quite noticed until now.
I am oblivious.
So when I heard Ororo crying in the bathroom, I knew there was something definitely wrong. Knocking on the door, she stifled a "Logan?" and I answered no. Then there was a gasp, and a harsh, "Rogue?!" Frowning, I held out the towels.
"Ororo," I called, "I'm just putting in more towels. Xavier said that I should..." The door was flung open, and there stood Ororo dressed in a kimono, her hair wildly pulled back in sticks. I resisted asking her if today she felt like being Asian since she looked really sick.
"Thanks, hon," she said, taking the towels. Suddenly, she covered her mouth and rushed to the toilet. I looked away until she was done and had flushed the toilet.
Jokingly, I said, "Bad case of morning sickness, huh?" Ororo stopped washing her mouth and gave me a hurried look.
"You know?!" I stared at her, confused.
"Know what?" Apparently said the wrong thing, she leaned against the counter and continued her crying.
"This was a mistake," she said, a hand to her throat, "nobody's supposed to know until after Jean's wedding." Still confused, I put a gloved hand on her shoulder.
"Know what?" I asked again. Ororo looked at me, eyes full of tears, pained blue eyes that told nothing more than sorrow.
"I'm pregnant, Rogue."
OH MY GOD. What the HELL did Logan do to her? WHAT?! Was it a bad night that caused some condom to slip? That's just dirty. For the love of God, she's an instructor. She's supposed to be the good, moral-following person. Not a fornicator!!!
But I swore to not tell her secret. She said she was pregnant for a month now, and Logan knows. But that's it.
Ororo's -pregnant-. And I'm not even going to get into all that "how could this get any worse" stuff right now.
April 7, 2003
When Logan picked me up today, he wore that "I'm bigger than you" frown with eyes that told me not to deal with him.
"I know," he started, staring in the back view mirror. I huffed, exasperated. "You know. So...you know." Since I'm always the only one that needs to be home before three, we were the only ones in the X-Jeep.
I nodded. "Ororo told you."
"She has to," he said, his voice desperate all of a sudden. This was as awkward as that time when I caught them...doing it... "It's not like I'm ashamed."
"I know," I said, wrapping my hair around my fingers.
"And it's not like I'm just gonna abandon Ororo," he continued, though I saw no need for it.
"I know."
"She doesn't deserve this," he spun the steering wheel while dodging a trash can. "I did this to her. I--"
"Logan," I said. He glanced at me, hard. "If I may interrupt. Um, nobody's really complaining. And even if they were, I'm sure you'll be great parents. You'll just have to be less rough. I mean, not that you already are." For a moment there was silence except for the droning of an old Aerosmith song playing on the radio. Then I saw Logan suddenly smile and I was surprised just as I was when Piotr laughed. Logan hardly every smiles.
"I'm gonna be a dad," he said, the smile growing wider. "Damn."
Whoo boy. -Logan- is excited. I guess there's a time for everything, old or new.
April 8, 2003
I stopped by Tweedle Dee, the Baby Store in the mall on my way home today. I lied to Logan, telling him that I'd be going home with Jean so he could stay and take care of Ororo. Picked up a list of what mothers should eat while pregnant and went to the store and bought most of it. So far, only Jaime has noticed, complaining that there are only green beans and no M&Ms.
April 9, 2003
When I was passing through the hallways to get to my room, Scott stopped me. Taken aback, I gave him a mellow glance.
"Fancy meeting you in this part of the manor," I said. He usually stays locked up in his closet (sometimes Beast would tell scary stories about seeing Scott molting which made Kitty stay up for a week), or at Bayville High's wilting class (he's won some award for five months in a row. Something about being Top Wilting Student or something) so I rarely see him anymore, but he didn't look any different. Same red glasses, pallid face, cheeky smirk, and maddening glow about him.
Really makes me look back twice when I remember I used to like him.
Pulling me into his room, he closed the door and pulled out something out of his drawer.
"Behold," he cried, unrolling the paper. "My PLAN!!!" Written boldly in a crayon, were the words, "Operation: Doomsday."
"Doomsday?" I asked. He broke out, laughing like an insane hyena.
"For two straight months I've thought of foiling Jean's wedding; of humiliating that -Remy-! And here it is!" I looked from him to the paper and back again. "You see," he said, leading me through the plan, "here's the flowers, right? I plan to put extra water in the bucket holding them and leaving it out in the aisle, so when Jean passes by, she'll trip over the bucket since she won't be paying attention, splashing water all over her dress and ruining the wedding!" Loud cackling followed shortly afterwards, and I waited for it to die down before I broke the news to him.
"But how in this way does this embarrass Remy?" Scott paused.
"Well, if you look--" he looked. Apparently, this was something he never thought about before. "Oh, this is not good." Shoving me out the door, he closed it, saying he was busy, busy, busy!
Gosh. I know I want to stop the wedding, but c'mon. And the problem is, there just isn't any reasoning with this guy.
April 10, 2003
When I had come back from buying tofu for Ororo, I found Jubilation sitting behind the couch, trying to wrap something. Coming around, I asked her what she was doing.
"Wrapping a gift," she said, casually. I stared at the medium sized box. Tape and wrapping paper hung from all sides. I frowned, and Jubilation, seeing my disapproval, frowned as well. "It that bad?" she asked me, innocently.
"Naw, it ain't," I said, smiling. Reaching over, I pulled at one jagged edge and the whole thing came apart. That was when Jubilation collapsed in tears.
"You know, this wouldn't be so hard if the stupid store service person had wrapped it for me! I mean, I can't wrap for jack and they don't even have a bag that would fit this gift!" I held back a fitful laugh, and patted her arm with a gloved hand.
"Don't worry, Jubes, I can help," I said. Taking off the messy paperwork, I realized what the gift was. Jubes, seeing my dissatisfaction, glanced at the gift worryingly.
"It's not a good gift to get them?" she asked, quickly. It was a blender, the same as what you'd see on the Father of the Bride where she cries over it. Although, I don't think Jean would cry because it was such a homely gift. She'd actually be -happy-.
"It's a great gift," I assured her. Wrapping it, I could almost sense my eyes filling with tears. Six days away--it was too close for comfort.
And then I realize, everything is.
April 11, 2003
After school, I came into my shared room and found a beautiful cashmere dress colored emerald with a white rose attached to the hip. A note placed on the shoulder told me it was to be worn tomorrow. Tomorrow, I realized, was Jean's bachelorette party.
And that just ruined my day.
"You like it?" someone asked me from behind. I turned and saw Jean standing by the doorframe, beaming. I shrugged like it wasn't important.
"Sure, I guess," I answered, casually. Jean shifted on her feet.
"I hope it fits you," she said, "Remy suggested I take it, because it matched your eyes. I said, 'You're so righ--"
"Remy?" I asked, aloud. Jean stopped mid-sentence, squirming in her sandals.
"Of course, Remy. Why should that surprise you?" Recalling what I had said, I chided myself for being so obtrusive.
"It doesn't," I spat, flatly. Holding it up to my neck, I held back a grin. -Remy has a nice touch-
"He does, doesn't he?" Jean said. I whirled around--she had read my mind. Coming over, she took the rose from its hip and placed it at my neck. Sighing, she smiled. "Are you going tomorrow?"
I paused, thinking. "I'm...not sure." She frowned while watching me in the mirror.
"Going out with John?" I looked at her, appalled.
"Why do you say that?" She shrugged again.
"It's nothing new. He was with you at Vianne Seaux, on Valentine's Day, Clairemont's, and just last week you were walking together at my Parents' Brunch." I stared, violated.
"Were you -following- me?!" I asked. She shocked me by laughing out loud.
"No, silly," she said, delighted, "Remy likes to chat about that kind of stuff." Remy? I shuffled my thoughts, hoping she wouldn't pry again into my mind. Why would he care where I went with John? Unless...unless...
He likes me? That can't be, he's still marrying Jean. And besides the thought is too far-fetched. It doesn't make sense...
But I wish it did.
April 12, 2003
I didn't go. I mean, what was the point? Talking, gossiping, eating tarts and watching each other drink Shirley Temples?
Yeah, right.
So I told Jean I wouldn't go. Found her talking to Remy, who was wearing a tux since he was heading to his own bachelor party.
"Jean," I said my voice chipped, "um, I can't go..." Jean rushed me hurried look. Dressed in a pale blue dress and scarf, she grabbed at Remy hands as if looking for support.
"Why? You sick?" She rushed over, but before she could put her uncovered hands on my forehead, I moved myself away. "No, Jean, it's not that." Jean stared at me, worried.
"Well, why?" I quickly thought about a lie to get me out of it.
"I'm...going out," looking at them both, I shrugged. "With John."
"John?!" Jean said, but it was more disbelief than accusation. I nodded: correct. "Well," she continued, looking at Remy for an answer, "I guess it's okay..."
That's when I bolted out the door, not hoping for any more interrogation. So here I sit, eating popcorn in front of the television, watching Kim Possible like I do on every and all Saturday evenings.
8:32 p.m.
Ororo left me a note on the kitchen counter. It says:
Rogue --
Please pick up a cake for Evan. Tomorrow's his birthday.
Yours,
Ororo
9:12 p.m.
VERY big mistake. Ororo said pick up a cake. That meant buy one out of my pocket. Of course, I knew she'd pay me back, but I thought it would be easier just to make a cake. Then, when I found a cake mix, I decided to make it chocolate and put all this Hershey's chocolate in the batter.
The VERY big mistake was that when I was mixing the batter and chocolate, I knocked over the vanilla and left the mixer on to get it, which caused it to go awry while flinging batter this way and that throughout the kitchen.
The good news is, nobody's home. The bad news is, I have to clean it all up.
Me and my -great- ideas.
April 13, 2003 12:32 a.m.
While I was mopping all the excess batter from the kitchen floor, I heard the door suddenly open and slam. Fearing it was Logan and his power to know when something is wrong, I quickly closed the kitchen door and turned off the lights, hoping he'd just go to his room. But instead, footprints walked to the kitchen, so I hid behind the door with the mop still in my hands. When the door suddenly flung open, he tripped over my mop and landed on the floor -- hard. That's when I just knew I was getting probation for a month. Flipping on the lights, I was surprised to find Remy laying on the floor, rubbing his now muzzled tux, and looking around, a bit baffled. But when he saw me, he shone a marvelous smile which told me he was all right.
"Remy!" I cried out, behind my mop. "What are -you- doing here?"
"Came t' see you," he said, getting up. Glancing around the kitchen, his eyes danced with laughter. "Somebody was havin' too much fun."
I blushed at his remark. "How'd you know I was here?" Remy smirked.
"When y' said y' were goin' out w' John, I didn't know how, since he was going t' my bachelor party," His smirk turned into a grin and he shrugged." And when he came, I knew y' were fibbin'."
"So why didn't you tell Jean? " I asked. Remy, again, shrugged.
"I didn see a reason." Walking around, he asked, "So what -are- y' tryin' t' do?"
I explained about Evan's birthday and the cake and the mixer. Remy laughed as I finished.
"I can help y', y' know," he said, as a-matter-of-factly, "I can even make t' icin', if y' like."
"Actually," I said, gesturing at the mess, "I was thinking of just going out and buying a cake." Remy frowned.
"If dere's nothing I hate betta dan bein' turned down from me own cookin'." He took out the flour and sugar, eggs and milk. "And if y' knew me any, y' wouldn." I put my hands up as if defeated. In ten minutes, he had created a nice batter, chocolate and all. And while it was baking, he whipped up the cream as well.
"So, why didn't y' go?" he asked me, as he stopped stirring the icing, "y' sick?" I stifled a laugh, while leaning on the edge of the counter.
"I wish," I answered, taking a sample of his creation. Peanut creme. I smiled, stating it was good. He smirked. "I guess I just didn't feel like going. You know, that feeling when you get all worked up after some sentimental..."
"What is dis about?" he asked, taking the now baked cake from the oven. I remember smelling the chocolate in the aroma, while playing with my gloves.
"Nothing," I said, trying to sound truthful. I took the spatula and slapped a generous amount of icing on the cake. Remy immediately started spreading.
"It about John?" he asked, and I noticed a tense vibe in his voice. I shrugged. He looked over at me, stopping his work. "Why? Did he hurt you?" I flushed at his concern.
"No, of course not. But… I hurt him," I said. Remy went back to his work, still listening. Playing with my gloves again, I looked over at him. "You promise not to tell?"
Remy kept his eyes on the cake. "Sure, whatever y' want, beb."
I stared ahead of myself, defeated. "He told me he loved me." I saw Remy's jaw tense. "He said he's loved me for the longest time, that he'd always be there for me." The thief said nothing.
Then in a small voice: "What did y' say?"
I paused, remembering. "I said...I said...no." Remy had finished the cake now, the look enticing and delectable.
"Are y' disappointed?" he asked, standing up straight. I fumbled with my words.
"I'm more guilty than anything." I saw the outline of his mouth fight between a smile and a frown.
"Growin' a conscience, now are y', chere?" I slapped his shoulder.
"I mean, c'mon. When you were proposing to Jean..." he glanced at me, thoughtful. "When you were proposing to Jean, weren't you thinking about how you'd make her feel guilty if she said 'no' to you?" He digressed to himself for a moment. Again, I put some leftover icing in my mouth, my senses melting along with the thick stuff.
"How about we put it dis way?" Remy suggested, "don't y' regret saying some things y' said?"
I looked quickly at him. It was my turn to ask, "What is this about?" But before he could answer, the door had opened and a clamor of voices spilled into the empty manor all at once. Remy looked away as I kept my eyes locked on him.
"Remy," I said, wanting him to go on. Somehow, I knew he was trying to tell me something. But the thief said nothing more. I waited, until the voices died down, but some called out for the groom-to-be, wanting his company for what ever reason.
"Remy," I said again, but he was already walking out the door.
Looking back, he said, "G' night, chere." One blink and all that was left moving was the swinging door, creaking on its loose hinges.
Later 12:34 p.m.
Evan found the cake; we all ate a serving. Remy and Jean were out all day. Ororo says that this couldn't have been store-bought. I nodded; it was made by Remy. But concealing that fact, I comtemplated this on my own.
April 14, 2003
Talked to Piotr today since he was waiting to walk Kitty home because she had track practice. I just came by so we could talk.
"Everything all right, Miss Rogue? You look distressed," he mentioned. I shifted between feelings while forcing a smile during it all.
"I'm just been confused a lot lately, like when Frodo was about his ring, you know?" He looked at me, confused.
"You lost me at Frodo, but go on."
"Well, I was thinking about Remy and Jean and their wedding. First off, I don't think it should happen..."
"Um, if I could disrupt, Rogue," he said, cautiously.
"Of course."
"Have you ever considered about ever telling Remy your feelings?" I thought about it.
"Once. But..."
"But?"
"But..."
"But??"
Annoyed: "Let me finish and maybe I can actually tell you!"
A small smile, "My point is, there is no 'but', my Rogue. Think about it: he might not reconsider his decision but at least when he walks down that aisle, he'll remember your words and know your feelings and realize what he's getting himself into." Which makes a lot of sense, now that he mentioned it.
Sometimes, Piotr is just that weird mountain-living sage that always gives advice to those who listen.
10:21 p.m.
I wrote Remy a letter which I've included a copy here:
Dearest Remy,
I know it's a little -late- right now to be saying this to you, but it took me about four months to realize this and I can only come clean to you about it right now. I love you. And if you marry Jean, I know there won't be a second chance to deliver you from this dream that has caused many a night mare. I wish and wonder if there would be any chance of me being welcomed into your heart. Whatever your intention, your wish, I know I should understand. And I just thought this would help you to recognize such and realize that maybe some things are worth feeling guilty over [like writing you this letter (duh)], or being hurt over. But then again, some things just aren't worth taking back either.
Rogue
April 15, 2003 11:21 a.m.
When I went to go steal into Remy's room, I found John standing on the balcony, his back to the door. When he heard the it close, he quickly rushed around and his eyes softened as he saw me. Walking to Remy's trench coat [he wasn't wearing it because he was eating breakfast at the hotel with Jean and her parents and Jean would kill herself if he was to wear the coat], I stopped just as I met John's eyes. We nodded, acknowledging each other's presence, and I placed the letter in a trench coat pocket before turning around and walking to the door. I didn't ask what his business was in Remy's room, but I wasn't looking forward to any awkward conversation.
Then, when I was walking back to my shared room, Scott stopped me and happily showed me his new plan on destroying the wedding, involving a few hidden cherry bombs to explode on the altar and Remy's tux.
"Just look at it now," he imagined, gleefully, "Remy running around with his tux on fire while Jean crying and..."
"It won't work," I spat. He looked at me, surprised.
"Why do you say that?" I shrugged.
"I don't know," I stuttered and rushed past him. I just hope Remy gets my letter.
2:13 p.m.
I am heartbroken.
You ever have that feeling when something inside you has burst and nothing can repair your damaged internal organs [which really only includes the heart]?
I have, and damn, does it hurt.
The couple had returned and Remy went to go get his trench coat. I sat on the couch, trying to look absorbed in the Bayville Times as Kitty and Piotr discussed the seating arrangement with Jean.
"And I'll sit here," Kitty said, smiling. Jean nodded, drawing out another perfect table. "Then Piotr, then Amara. and you can't forget..." My attention diverted back to Remy who had dressed in his trademark trench coat, calling that he was ready. Prancing down the stairs two at a time and over John who was sitting at the bottom stair, he stopped, feeling his pocket. I bit my lip. It was the moment of truth, the declaration of desire, the destiny of the occasion. Taking out the note, his eyes narrowed as though he were trying to read through the paper. Then with a dangerous flick of his hand, the note flew out of his hold and ---
BOOM! The note scattered in pitiful shreds, littering the ground with tiny flakes which reminded me of the snow that had ceased to fall out our windows.
I stared, almost missing Jean's remark of, "Now why'd you have to do that, Rems? You know how Xavier hates when you blow random things up..."
He opened his mouth to say something, but I had crinkled the newspaper and walked out before he could. Behind me, I heard Kitty ask what was, like, up with me?
But she would never understand. Not in a million years would anyone care to see how I became remotely outraged and disappointed when Remy blew up that note, because when he held it, he also held my heart. And for him to just blow it up without caring...well, what should that tell you?
All I have to say is I'm heartbroken. And that's all anyone has to know.
10:19 p.m.
I stayed in my room for a time, watching the ancient sunset out my balcony window. Voices loomed downstairs, some called for me, some didn't. I recognized not one as I laid on my bed, trying to understand why Remy would just blow something up like that before even reading it. I wanted to rub it off like some malfunction with his powers, but it didn't seem to fit in. Remy has his reasons for what ever he does. But he just never tells explanations.
That's why I didn't hear the knock on the door when it sounded. But when it did come again, I called for it to go away. It didn't. Fuming, I wiped the stray tears from my elusive eyes and flung the door open. There stood John, hands in pockets, a small timid glare playing in his eyes. I immediately put my head down, ashamed but not sure for what.
"G'day, love," he said, and I noticed he rocked on his feet while speaking. I rubbed my arms, nervously.
"Hullo." I wanted to say something more, but to speak was like trying to haul a load of rocks from my throat. It hurt to talk. John noticed and chortled with a nervous vibe.
Then he said after a long sigh, "I'll go if you don't want me here, Rogue. I just thought you wanted some company." Well, of course I didn't need to hear what he wanted to do to help me. I didn't care why he came, how he knew. But when he turned away, to go, I didn't know what voice made him stop and stay, but it was there and it called, "Wait, John." He turned around, his features softening. Coming closer, I stood there, playing with my gloves.
"I've been a selfish brute this whole time," I started, noticing his body tense, then relax. "I wanted something I could never have, and learned the hard way." Sighing, I wrapped my arms around him. He didn't return the embrace immediately, so I said, "I just wanted to know if you're still there for me, like you told me before."
I saw his smile, and that told everything. His own arms came around my back and held me against him. The warm moisture around my eyes embarrassed me, but they were lost against his auburn-colored coat as they fell from my eyes. His hold was strong and comforting, but that didn't keep me from comparing it to Remy's own embrace.
John was lacking, but I couldn't tell him that. Not when I had already confirmed I was willing to be his girlfriend.
At that, I don't think I should have any regrets--but I don't feel right. Not when I'm still holding on to something I already lost, making me guiltier than before.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Responses to Reviews:
gecko: You reviewed [leave it up to me to feel excited]! I think, if I may, you are the only one that still thinks of Remy as truly for Rogue. And I'm standing quite on your side at that. You [and a whole lot of other people] would question why I put Remy as an impudent fool while Rogue and John are together in this chapter, and most likely the next [and last, mind you all]. Answers will come soon, I promise, but not too close for comfort.
ishandahalf: You could kill one of the lesser, non-important people like Paul. Or the accordian man. I promise to not tell, but who'd notice anyway? That's why they're considered lesser or of no importance people.
Christy S and Pyromaniac: I'd like to thank you both for coming over to my website, EMIA. Really, nobody has been visiting for a long time, and I'm glad -some- people actually care about what I put up in my bio *glares*.
Bunny Angel: *smiles innocently* Oh. To not sound like a complete turd [because dangit I am], is like defying my own self. It actuality, I tried several times to think over an apology to you for what I said before. Because face it: I read it all and countered each, knowing that those who down played my fic would never review again. But you surprised me, and therefore I'm sorry for thinking you like the others.
Special Thanks to: prettyputty, Swifty1125, rogue star, EddiechoseLife, Misa1124, and roguesailorZ for putting me on your favorite's lists! I'm pretty sure you each made me blush when I found out you did so! Thanks!
Um, so I was thinking. After the next chapter the story will be finished, and I wondered if there should be another diary? Just a thought, or you could tell me after the last chapter is posted. Remember! Your review counts!
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.
Chapter Nineteen: Countdown to Doomsday
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 1, 2003
When Jean came into my shared room, I was sitting on the floor, wondering about John, thinking about his feelings and how truly demeaning I was towards them. The disappointed look on his face stayed imprinted in my brain, causing me to yelp when Jean tapped my shoulder. She, in turn, yelled back, startled.
"Jean!" I screamed, trying to regain my heart beat, "What are you -doing-??"
She smiled, holding out a sealed envelope. "Just wanted to come up and invite you to my bachelorette party." Taking the envelope, I ripped open the seal and took out the card. Scanning it with an impervious eye, I looked back at her, wondering.
"Something wrong, Rogue? You look beaten," she said, her voice low with suspicion. I waved her off.
"With a stick or a bat?" She studied me, digressing.
"More like a lead pipe." I whacked her knee with the invitation and she chortled. "But seriously, what's wrong? You look more sullen than you really are." Grumbling, I got up and sat on my bed.
"Nothing that I need to tell you." She frowned at my resistance and pulled at my sleeve.
"C'mon, Rogue. It can't be that bad," she crooned. I looked at her and shrugged.
"I said, it's nothing that I need to tell you." Getting the message, she quickly breathed out and headed toward the door.
"Fine. Call me on my cell to verify your coming to my party." Then she sniffed and was on her way. Looking back down at the invitation, I read:
You are invited to: Jean's Bachelorette Party
When: Saturday April 12, 2003
Where: The Marriott Hotel, in their reserved plaza
What time: 8:00 p.m. to Midnight
R.S.V.P.: (125)-527-2314 [Jean's Cell]
Oh, boy. I bet Jean wants me there, but I'm really into refusing right now. Therefore, I'll just have to see.
April 2, 2003
After school, Jean held another wedding rehearsal, and it ran smoothly, though throughout the whole practice, Jean was a bit testy since John hadn't shown up for it. Partially, I believe it's because of me.
April 3, 2003
Today, Jean took us for a final suit up with our dresses at Danlie's. I guess it went okay, except when Jean told us to regroup, Ororo didn't appear with the rest of the bridesmaid. So then, Jean strode back to the fitting rooms and found Ororo struggling to zip her dress's zipper.
"Ororo?" she asked, coming inside. I had followed, along with Logan, who came to see what was the matter. Ororo, first seeing Jean, tensed immediately. "What's wrong?"
"It seems," Ororo started, once again trying to zip the dress behind her, "it seems that I have a bit of a difficulty trying to zip this dress." Jean offered to give her a hand and pulled and heaved to no avail. For five minutes this went on, anticipation growing weary on the two as Logan covered his eyes (but whether in shame or amusement, I'm not sure), and finally, Jean gave it a hefty pull and there was a deafening RIP! before Ororo's dress came apart.
That's when Jean started scolding Ororo and asking what has she been eating all throughout these several months. Before Ororo could answer though, Logan stepped in, and said, "I think you both had enough today. Just get a bigger size, Jean, that's all." He didn't cuss her out, but simply brought Ororo's clothes over to her while Jean exited the dressing rooms, completely baffled.
"How could she have gained so much weight?" she asked me, a streak of confusion across her face, "she was always so lithe..."
For once, I had to agree to Jean. And the whole fatherly-Logan was weird too.
Something is definitely not right here.
April 4, 2003
When I came in after school, I found Piotr sitting on my bed, a box of chocolate across from him, with Kitty digging into her closet.
"How 'bout this one?" she asked, holding out one of Jean's dresses. When she saw me, she dropped the dress and let out a nervous giggle.
"Rogue!" A blush crossed her face as she kicked the clothes back in the closet. For the sake of the moment, I crossed my arms across my chest and rose an eyebrow.
"What's going on in here?" I asked both of them. Piotr cleared his throat and spoke up: "Kitty was trying to show me what she was going to wear to Jean's bachelorette party." I glared at her.
"You're actually going?" Kitty shrugged, as if she could've cared less.
"Well, like, everyone is." I looked over at what she had in the closet. Piles of pink and white shirts and skirts covered the ground, and I pouted at the mess.
"Kitty," I said, shaking my head, "what closet have you been through?!" She put her head down, guiltily. Piotr was about to rise to her defense, but I held up my hand and continued, "Jean has a hoard of gorgeous dresses you haven't encountered!" At this, Kitty, smiled and followed me to Jean's room.
It was as clean as the rec room. The bed was made, the sheets weren't wrinkled at the ends, the mirror was well wiped from fingerprints (if there had been any), the vanity well kept with a clock and picture of Remy and her at the corner of the desk. I held back a frown as I pointed to the closet. Kitty immediately invaded the space, parting the hangers and staring at the dresses. Taking a particular dress illustrating red roses, she beamed and raced back into our room to change. Piotr was standing by the door, but he didn't walk off after Kitty. Coming into the room, he glanced around and a look of curiosity crossed his face.
"Jean really is tidy." Then to me, he nodded. "Thank you. Kitty was wondering if she could take another dress."
"Jean won't even notice," I said, so casually it scared even me. Looking at the picture with Jean and Remy, I sighed, sadly. "It's so close." Piotr once again nodded.
"I know." Putting a hand on my shoulder, he smiled and went across the hall to where Kitty was calling him. I watched, knowing he knew my infatuation. But like Kurt, he also knew it was more than that. He knew that it hurt me to see Remy with someone so perfect that it made ME look bad. Turning away, I looked back at the picture frame.
It was turned face-down.
***
When I finally came back, Kitty had taken a break from her dressing-up and was sitting next to Piotr, eating the chocolate.
"Good news," she said. Walking in more, I could see she and Piotr were holding hands, "We both decided that that dress was perfect for such a night."
"Glad to hear it," I said, toying with my gloves. It was a nervous habit that I developed after the years of wearing them. Every time I get too sentimental, I get a bit nervous with myself and start picking at them. Kitty knew this and smiled.
"Um, Rogue. We were going out tomorrow night and well, we were wondering if you could come along."
"As what?" I asked, unsure with the question, "your chaperone?" Kitty and Piotr exchanged glances.
"Well," Kitty said, putting the chocolates aside. She gestured at them, but I refused. "No. But you're, like, always spending your Saturdays moping around and, like, it isn't healthy." Piotr nodded. Still toying with my gloves, I shrugged.
"Okay," I said, but pointed a strict finger at them, "but none of that kissing stuff." Piotr laughed, and I was shocked. He never laughs.
"If you come as our friend," he said, smiling big, "not a chaperone." We shook hands on it and I took a chocolate, satisfied. But, Kitty was right. Saturdays are always vacant on my calendar. This should help me forget my problems - for now.
April 5, 2003
Jean pulled me out of going out with them. And for what? What could possibly be more important than going out on a Friday night?
"How about my wedding?" she asked me. So she then drove me down to a Beauty Salon and got my hair and nails done.
And you could guess what color my nails are right now.
Pink.
April 6, 2003
I am stunned.
I mean, usually I'd be feeling what has been going on for quite some time, but I never quite noticed until now.
I am oblivious.
So when I heard Ororo crying in the bathroom, I knew there was something definitely wrong. Knocking on the door, she stifled a "Logan?" and I answered no. Then there was a gasp, and a harsh, "Rogue?!" Frowning, I held out the towels.
"Ororo," I called, "I'm just putting in more towels. Xavier said that I should..." The door was flung open, and there stood Ororo dressed in a kimono, her hair wildly pulled back in sticks. I resisted asking her if today she felt like being Asian since she looked really sick.
"Thanks, hon," she said, taking the towels. Suddenly, she covered her mouth and rushed to the toilet. I looked away until she was done and had flushed the toilet.
Jokingly, I said, "Bad case of morning sickness, huh?" Ororo stopped washing her mouth and gave me a hurried look.
"You know?!" I stared at her, confused.
"Know what?" Apparently said the wrong thing, she leaned against the counter and continued her crying.
"This was a mistake," she said, a hand to her throat, "nobody's supposed to know until after Jean's wedding." Still confused, I put a gloved hand on her shoulder.
"Know what?" I asked again. Ororo looked at me, eyes full of tears, pained blue eyes that told nothing more than sorrow.
"I'm pregnant, Rogue."
OH MY GOD. What the HELL did Logan do to her? WHAT?! Was it a bad night that caused some condom to slip? That's just dirty. For the love of God, she's an instructor. She's supposed to be the good, moral-following person. Not a fornicator!!!
But I swore to not tell her secret. She said she was pregnant for a month now, and Logan knows. But that's it.
Ororo's -pregnant-. And I'm not even going to get into all that "how could this get any worse" stuff right now.
April 7, 2003
When Logan picked me up today, he wore that "I'm bigger than you" frown with eyes that told me not to deal with him.
"I know," he started, staring in the back view mirror. I huffed, exasperated. "You know. So...you know." Since I'm always the only one that needs to be home before three, we were the only ones in the X-Jeep.
I nodded. "Ororo told you."
"She has to," he said, his voice desperate all of a sudden. This was as awkward as that time when I caught them...doing it... "It's not like I'm ashamed."
"I know," I said, wrapping my hair around my fingers.
"And it's not like I'm just gonna abandon Ororo," he continued, though I saw no need for it.
"I know."
"She doesn't deserve this," he spun the steering wheel while dodging a trash can. "I did this to her. I--"
"Logan," I said. He glanced at me, hard. "If I may interrupt. Um, nobody's really complaining. And even if they were, I'm sure you'll be great parents. You'll just have to be less rough. I mean, not that you already are." For a moment there was silence except for the droning of an old Aerosmith song playing on the radio. Then I saw Logan suddenly smile and I was surprised just as I was when Piotr laughed. Logan hardly every smiles.
"I'm gonna be a dad," he said, the smile growing wider. "Damn."
Whoo boy. -Logan- is excited. I guess there's a time for everything, old or new.
April 8, 2003
I stopped by Tweedle Dee, the Baby Store in the mall on my way home today. I lied to Logan, telling him that I'd be going home with Jean so he could stay and take care of Ororo. Picked up a list of what mothers should eat while pregnant and went to the store and bought most of it. So far, only Jaime has noticed, complaining that there are only green beans and no M&Ms.
April 9, 2003
When I was passing through the hallways to get to my room, Scott stopped me. Taken aback, I gave him a mellow glance.
"Fancy meeting you in this part of the manor," I said. He usually stays locked up in his closet (sometimes Beast would tell scary stories about seeing Scott molting which made Kitty stay up for a week), or at Bayville High's wilting class (he's won some award for five months in a row. Something about being Top Wilting Student or something) so I rarely see him anymore, but he didn't look any different. Same red glasses, pallid face, cheeky smirk, and maddening glow about him.
Really makes me look back twice when I remember I used to like him.
Pulling me into his room, he closed the door and pulled out something out of his drawer.
"Behold," he cried, unrolling the paper. "My PLAN!!!" Written boldly in a crayon, were the words, "Operation: Doomsday."
"Doomsday?" I asked. He broke out, laughing like an insane hyena.
"For two straight months I've thought of foiling Jean's wedding; of humiliating that -Remy-! And here it is!" I looked from him to the paper and back again. "You see," he said, leading me through the plan, "here's the flowers, right? I plan to put extra water in the bucket holding them and leaving it out in the aisle, so when Jean passes by, she'll trip over the bucket since she won't be paying attention, splashing water all over her dress and ruining the wedding!" Loud cackling followed shortly afterwards, and I waited for it to die down before I broke the news to him.
"But how in this way does this embarrass Remy?" Scott paused.
"Well, if you look--" he looked. Apparently, this was something he never thought about before. "Oh, this is not good." Shoving me out the door, he closed it, saying he was busy, busy, busy!
Gosh. I know I want to stop the wedding, but c'mon. And the problem is, there just isn't any reasoning with this guy.
April 10, 2003
When I had come back from buying tofu for Ororo, I found Jubilation sitting behind the couch, trying to wrap something. Coming around, I asked her what she was doing.
"Wrapping a gift," she said, casually. I stared at the medium sized box. Tape and wrapping paper hung from all sides. I frowned, and Jubilation, seeing my disapproval, frowned as well. "It that bad?" she asked me, innocently.
"Naw, it ain't," I said, smiling. Reaching over, I pulled at one jagged edge and the whole thing came apart. That was when Jubilation collapsed in tears.
"You know, this wouldn't be so hard if the stupid store service person had wrapped it for me! I mean, I can't wrap for jack and they don't even have a bag that would fit this gift!" I held back a fitful laugh, and patted her arm with a gloved hand.
"Don't worry, Jubes, I can help," I said. Taking off the messy paperwork, I realized what the gift was. Jubes, seeing my dissatisfaction, glanced at the gift worryingly.
"It's not a good gift to get them?" she asked, quickly. It was a blender, the same as what you'd see on the Father of the Bride where she cries over it. Although, I don't think Jean would cry because it was such a homely gift. She'd actually be -happy-.
"It's a great gift," I assured her. Wrapping it, I could almost sense my eyes filling with tears. Six days away--it was too close for comfort.
And then I realize, everything is.
April 11, 2003
After school, I came into my shared room and found a beautiful cashmere dress colored emerald with a white rose attached to the hip. A note placed on the shoulder told me it was to be worn tomorrow. Tomorrow, I realized, was Jean's bachelorette party.
And that just ruined my day.
"You like it?" someone asked me from behind. I turned and saw Jean standing by the doorframe, beaming. I shrugged like it wasn't important.
"Sure, I guess," I answered, casually. Jean shifted on her feet.
"I hope it fits you," she said, "Remy suggested I take it, because it matched your eyes. I said, 'You're so righ--"
"Remy?" I asked, aloud. Jean stopped mid-sentence, squirming in her sandals.
"Of course, Remy. Why should that surprise you?" Recalling what I had said, I chided myself for being so obtrusive.
"It doesn't," I spat, flatly. Holding it up to my neck, I held back a grin. -Remy has a nice touch-
"He does, doesn't he?" Jean said. I whirled around--she had read my mind. Coming over, she took the rose from its hip and placed it at my neck. Sighing, she smiled. "Are you going tomorrow?"
I paused, thinking. "I'm...not sure." She frowned while watching me in the mirror.
"Going out with John?" I looked at her, appalled.
"Why do you say that?" She shrugged again.
"It's nothing new. He was with you at Vianne Seaux, on Valentine's Day, Clairemont's, and just last week you were walking together at my Parents' Brunch." I stared, violated.
"Were you -following- me?!" I asked. She shocked me by laughing out loud.
"No, silly," she said, delighted, "Remy likes to chat about that kind of stuff." Remy? I shuffled my thoughts, hoping she wouldn't pry again into my mind. Why would he care where I went with John? Unless...unless...
He likes me? That can't be, he's still marrying Jean. And besides the thought is too far-fetched. It doesn't make sense...
But I wish it did.
April 12, 2003
I didn't go. I mean, what was the point? Talking, gossiping, eating tarts and watching each other drink Shirley Temples?
Yeah, right.
So I told Jean I wouldn't go. Found her talking to Remy, who was wearing a tux since he was heading to his own bachelor party.
"Jean," I said my voice chipped, "um, I can't go..." Jean rushed me hurried look. Dressed in a pale blue dress and scarf, she grabbed at Remy hands as if looking for support.
"Why? You sick?" She rushed over, but before she could put her uncovered hands on my forehead, I moved myself away. "No, Jean, it's not that." Jean stared at me, worried.
"Well, why?" I quickly thought about a lie to get me out of it.
"I'm...going out," looking at them both, I shrugged. "With John."
"John?!" Jean said, but it was more disbelief than accusation. I nodded: correct. "Well," she continued, looking at Remy for an answer, "I guess it's okay..."
That's when I bolted out the door, not hoping for any more interrogation. So here I sit, eating popcorn in front of the television, watching Kim Possible like I do on every and all Saturday evenings.
8:32 p.m.
Ororo left me a note on the kitchen counter. It says:
Rogue --
Please pick up a cake for Evan. Tomorrow's his birthday.
Yours,
Ororo
9:12 p.m.
VERY big mistake. Ororo said pick up a cake. That meant buy one out of my pocket. Of course, I knew she'd pay me back, but I thought it would be easier just to make a cake. Then, when I found a cake mix, I decided to make it chocolate and put all this Hershey's chocolate in the batter.
The VERY big mistake was that when I was mixing the batter and chocolate, I knocked over the vanilla and left the mixer on to get it, which caused it to go awry while flinging batter this way and that throughout the kitchen.
The good news is, nobody's home. The bad news is, I have to clean it all up.
Me and my -great- ideas.
April 13, 2003 12:32 a.m.
While I was mopping all the excess batter from the kitchen floor, I heard the door suddenly open and slam. Fearing it was Logan and his power to know when something is wrong, I quickly closed the kitchen door and turned off the lights, hoping he'd just go to his room. But instead, footprints walked to the kitchen, so I hid behind the door with the mop still in my hands. When the door suddenly flung open, he tripped over my mop and landed on the floor -- hard. That's when I just knew I was getting probation for a month. Flipping on the lights, I was surprised to find Remy laying on the floor, rubbing his now muzzled tux, and looking around, a bit baffled. But when he saw me, he shone a marvelous smile which told me he was all right.
"Remy!" I cried out, behind my mop. "What are -you- doing here?"
"Came t' see you," he said, getting up. Glancing around the kitchen, his eyes danced with laughter. "Somebody was havin' too much fun."
I blushed at his remark. "How'd you know I was here?" Remy smirked.
"When y' said y' were goin' out w' John, I didn't know how, since he was going t' my bachelor party," His smirk turned into a grin and he shrugged." And when he came, I knew y' were fibbin'."
"So why didn't you tell Jean? " I asked. Remy, again, shrugged.
"I didn see a reason." Walking around, he asked, "So what -are- y' tryin' t' do?"
I explained about Evan's birthday and the cake and the mixer. Remy laughed as I finished.
"I can help y', y' know," he said, as a-matter-of-factly, "I can even make t' icin', if y' like."
"Actually," I said, gesturing at the mess, "I was thinking of just going out and buying a cake." Remy frowned.
"If dere's nothing I hate betta dan bein' turned down from me own cookin'." He took out the flour and sugar, eggs and milk. "And if y' knew me any, y' wouldn." I put my hands up as if defeated. In ten minutes, he had created a nice batter, chocolate and all. And while it was baking, he whipped up the cream as well.
"So, why didn't y' go?" he asked me, as he stopped stirring the icing, "y' sick?" I stifled a laugh, while leaning on the edge of the counter.
"I wish," I answered, taking a sample of his creation. Peanut creme. I smiled, stating it was good. He smirked. "I guess I just didn't feel like going. You know, that feeling when you get all worked up after some sentimental..."
"What is dis about?" he asked, taking the now baked cake from the oven. I remember smelling the chocolate in the aroma, while playing with my gloves.
"Nothing," I said, trying to sound truthful. I took the spatula and slapped a generous amount of icing on the cake. Remy immediately started spreading.
"It about John?" he asked, and I noticed a tense vibe in his voice. I shrugged. He looked over at me, stopping his work. "Why? Did he hurt you?" I flushed at his concern.
"No, of course not. But… I hurt him," I said. Remy went back to his work, still listening. Playing with my gloves again, I looked over at him. "You promise not to tell?"
Remy kept his eyes on the cake. "Sure, whatever y' want, beb."
I stared ahead of myself, defeated. "He told me he loved me." I saw Remy's jaw tense. "He said he's loved me for the longest time, that he'd always be there for me." The thief said nothing.
Then in a small voice: "What did y' say?"
I paused, remembering. "I said...I said...no." Remy had finished the cake now, the look enticing and delectable.
"Are y' disappointed?" he asked, standing up straight. I fumbled with my words.
"I'm more guilty than anything." I saw the outline of his mouth fight between a smile and a frown.
"Growin' a conscience, now are y', chere?" I slapped his shoulder.
"I mean, c'mon. When you were proposing to Jean..." he glanced at me, thoughtful. "When you were proposing to Jean, weren't you thinking about how you'd make her feel guilty if she said 'no' to you?" He digressed to himself for a moment. Again, I put some leftover icing in my mouth, my senses melting along with the thick stuff.
"How about we put it dis way?" Remy suggested, "don't y' regret saying some things y' said?"
I looked quickly at him. It was my turn to ask, "What is this about?" But before he could answer, the door had opened and a clamor of voices spilled into the empty manor all at once. Remy looked away as I kept my eyes locked on him.
"Remy," I said, wanting him to go on. Somehow, I knew he was trying to tell me something. But the thief said nothing more. I waited, until the voices died down, but some called out for the groom-to-be, wanting his company for what ever reason.
"Remy," I said again, but he was already walking out the door.
Looking back, he said, "G' night, chere." One blink and all that was left moving was the swinging door, creaking on its loose hinges.
Later 12:34 p.m.
Evan found the cake; we all ate a serving. Remy and Jean were out all day. Ororo says that this couldn't have been store-bought. I nodded; it was made by Remy. But concealing that fact, I comtemplated this on my own.
April 14, 2003
Talked to Piotr today since he was waiting to walk Kitty home because she had track practice. I just came by so we could talk.
"Everything all right, Miss Rogue? You look distressed," he mentioned. I shifted between feelings while forcing a smile during it all.
"I'm just been confused a lot lately, like when Frodo was about his ring, you know?" He looked at me, confused.
"You lost me at Frodo, but go on."
"Well, I was thinking about Remy and Jean and their wedding. First off, I don't think it should happen..."
"Um, if I could disrupt, Rogue," he said, cautiously.
"Of course."
"Have you ever considered about ever telling Remy your feelings?" I thought about it.
"Once. But..."
"But?"
"But..."
"But??"
Annoyed: "Let me finish and maybe I can actually tell you!"
A small smile, "My point is, there is no 'but', my Rogue. Think about it: he might not reconsider his decision but at least when he walks down that aisle, he'll remember your words and know your feelings and realize what he's getting himself into." Which makes a lot of sense, now that he mentioned it.
Sometimes, Piotr is just that weird mountain-living sage that always gives advice to those who listen.
10:21 p.m.
I wrote Remy a letter which I've included a copy here:
Dearest Remy,
I know it's a little -late- right now to be saying this to you, but it took me about four months to realize this and I can only come clean to you about it right now. I love you. And if you marry Jean, I know there won't be a second chance to deliver you from this dream that has caused many a night mare. I wish and wonder if there would be any chance of me being welcomed into your heart. Whatever your intention, your wish, I know I should understand. And I just thought this would help you to recognize such and realize that maybe some things are worth feeling guilty over [like writing you this letter (duh)], or being hurt over. But then again, some things just aren't worth taking back either.
Rogue
April 15, 2003 11:21 a.m.
When I went to go steal into Remy's room, I found John standing on the balcony, his back to the door. When he heard the it close, he quickly rushed around and his eyes softened as he saw me. Walking to Remy's trench coat [he wasn't wearing it because he was eating breakfast at the hotel with Jean and her parents and Jean would kill herself if he was to wear the coat], I stopped just as I met John's eyes. We nodded, acknowledging each other's presence, and I placed the letter in a trench coat pocket before turning around and walking to the door. I didn't ask what his business was in Remy's room, but I wasn't looking forward to any awkward conversation.
Then, when I was walking back to my shared room, Scott stopped me and happily showed me his new plan on destroying the wedding, involving a few hidden cherry bombs to explode on the altar and Remy's tux.
"Just look at it now," he imagined, gleefully, "Remy running around with his tux on fire while Jean crying and..."
"It won't work," I spat. He looked at me, surprised.
"Why do you say that?" I shrugged.
"I don't know," I stuttered and rushed past him. I just hope Remy gets my letter.
2:13 p.m.
I am heartbroken.
You ever have that feeling when something inside you has burst and nothing can repair your damaged internal organs [which really only includes the heart]?
I have, and damn, does it hurt.
The couple had returned and Remy went to go get his trench coat. I sat on the couch, trying to look absorbed in the Bayville Times as Kitty and Piotr discussed the seating arrangement with Jean.
"And I'll sit here," Kitty said, smiling. Jean nodded, drawing out another perfect table. "Then Piotr, then Amara. and you can't forget..." My attention diverted back to Remy who had dressed in his trademark trench coat, calling that he was ready. Prancing down the stairs two at a time and over John who was sitting at the bottom stair, he stopped, feeling his pocket. I bit my lip. It was the moment of truth, the declaration of desire, the destiny of the occasion. Taking out the note, his eyes narrowed as though he were trying to read through the paper. Then with a dangerous flick of his hand, the note flew out of his hold and ---
BOOM! The note scattered in pitiful shreds, littering the ground with tiny flakes which reminded me of the snow that had ceased to fall out our windows.
I stared, almost missing Jean's remark of, "Now why'd you have to do that, Rems? You know how Xavier hates when you blow random things up..."
He opened his mouth to say something, but I had crinkled the newspaper and walked out before he could. Behind me, I heard Kitty ask what was, like, up with me?
But she would never understand. Not in a million years would anyone care to see how I became remotely outraged and disappointed when Remy blew up that note, because when he held it, he also held my heart. And for him to just blow it up without caring...well, what should that tell you?
All I have to say is I'm heartbroken. And that's all anyone has to know.
10:19 p.m.
I stayed in my room for a time, watching the ancient sunset out my balcony window. Voices loomed downstairs, some called for me, some didn't. I recognized not one as I laid on my bed, trying to understand why Remy would just blow something up like that before even reading it. I wanted to rub it off like some malfunction with his powers, but it didn't seem to fit in. Remy has his reasons for what ever he does. But he just never tells explanations.
That's why I didn't hear the knock on the door when it sounded. But when it did come again, I called for it to go away. It didn't. Fuming, I wiped the stray tears from my elusive eyes and flung the door open. There stood John, hands in pockets, a small timid glare playing in his eyes. I immediately put my head down, ashamed but not sure for what.
"G'day, love," he said, and I noticed he rocked on his feet while speaking. I rubbed my arms, nervously.
"Hullo." I wanted to say something more, but to speak was like trying to haul a load of rocks from my throat. It hurt to talk. John noticed and chortled with a nervous vibe.
Then he said after a long sigh, "I'll go if you don't want me here, Rogue. I just thought you wanted some company." Well, of course I didn't need to hear what he wanted to do to help me. I didn't care why he came, how he knew. But when he turned away, to go, I didn't know what voice made him stop and stay, but it was there and it called, "Wait, John." He turned around, his features softening. Coming closer, I stood there, playing with my gloves.
"I've been a selfish brute this whole time," I started, noticing his body tense, then relax. "I wanted something I could never have, and learned the hard way." Sighing, I wrapped my arms around him. He didn't return the embrace immediately, so I said, "I just wanted to know if you're still there for me, like you told me before."
I saw his smile, and that told everything. His own arms came around my back and held me against him. The warm moisture around my eyes embarrassed me, but they were lost against his auburn-colored coat as they fell from my eyes. His hold was strong and comforting, but that didn't keep me from comparing it to Remy's own embrace.
John was lacking, but I couldn't tell him that. Not when I had already confirmed I was willing to be his girlfriend.
At that, I don't think I should have any regrets--but I don't feel right. Not when I'm still holding on to something I already lost, making me guiltier than before.
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Responses to Reviews:
gecko: You reviewed [leave it up to me to feel excited]! I think, if I may, you are the only one that still thinks of Remy as truly for Rogue. And I'm standing quite on your side at that. You [and a whole lot of other people] would question why I put Remy as an impudent fool while Rogue and John are together in this chapter, and most likely the next [and last, mind you all]. Answers will come soon, I promise, but not too close for comfort.
ishandahalf: You could kill one of the lesser, non-important people like Paul. Or the accordian man. I promise to not tell, but who'd notice anyway? That's why they're considered lesser or of no importance people.
Christy S and Pyromaniac: I'd like to thank you both for coming over to my website, EMIA. Really, nobody has been visiting for a long time, and I'm glad -some- people actually care about what I put up in my bio *glares*.
Bunny Angel: *smiles innocently* Oh. To not sound like a complete turd [because dangit I am], is like defying my own self. It actuality, I tried several times to think over an apology to you for what I said before. Because face it: I read it all and countered each, knowing that those who down played my fic would never review again. But you surprised me, and therefore I'm sorry for thinking you like the others.
Special Thanks to: prettyputty, Swifty1125, rogue star, EddiechoseLife, Misa1124, and roguesailorZ for putting me on your favorite's lists! I'm pretty sure you each made me blush when I found out you did so! Thanks!
Um, so I was thinking. After the next chapter the story will be finished, and I wondered if there should be another diary? Just a thought, or you could tell me after the last chapter is posted. Remember! Your review counts!