Disclaimer: The little disclaimer is fast asleep, in its bed, dreaming up ways of torturing us fanfic writers with its insidious ways. Me? I'm sitting here typing out author's notes late at night - a.k.a. early, early morning - for the umpteenth time. Can you see which one of us has the better life?
A/N: I'm sorry to say that I don't think I'll be able to write anything for the next couple of weeks for two reasons. 1) There's a possibility I'll be helping out with the renovations to my grandmother's house in the coming week; and 2) I promised a friend I'd edit a whole stack of write-ups for her. Now the former can't be helped - family stuff, you know - but the latter I hold all of you directly responsible! I mean, I've been through the sheer anguish of editing those write-ups before and had absolutely no intention whatsoever of doing it again! But she caught me. My friend caught me right on the day that I was on a high from all your reviews! I should have been stronger! I should have resisted! But no, I caved like a rock. Stupid review-induced sugar high...
~ Nina, heartstar, Lucky439, That Swedish guy, Christy S, T. - -struggles to stuff Black Forest cake into email- Dammit! You'd think Bill Gates in all his Microsoft genius-ness (I'm copywriting that word!) would figure out a way to send sweet treats through cyberspace! How else does he expect me to say thank you to you guys?
~ Rupeshwari - I did that on purpose, you know. I knew it was your birthday and I made sure to post on that exact same day. What can I say? I'm a gifted little fruitcake... ; )
~ Cris-X - First off, thanks for reviewing all four chapters in separate reviews. Lord knows I'm all for pushing the review count higher. ; ) And thank you for pointing out that French mistake, too. I really appreciate it when you guys do that, seeing as I tend to miss a lot of those little buggers.
~ vagabond, LinkinPark4ever, Mag Carter, Sakura Scout - Thank you so much! I consider it the highest of honors to be placed on someone's favorites list! Well, that and discovering that people are actually reading this fic... ; ) Thanks for letting me know! -attempts to smash Black Forest cake into email with renewed vigor- Damn you, Gates!
~ TrinityC, Bitchy Little Pixy, Eileen Blazer, Disturbed Courtney - Oh my God, don't even let me get started on LotR! You'll never shut me up! Cinematic genius is what it is! I mean everything about it just comes together in a perfect blend. The story, the editing, the cinematography, the sets, the costumes, the acting, the special effects, the fight sequences, the production design, the direction! And the attention to detail! Down to the last iota! Peter Jackson really outdid himself, I must say. I am definitely grateful he is so passionate about the books! I'll admit that I have a few nitpicks about the films, but they're kind of insignificant when you look at the movie as a whole. And I couldn't agree with you more, Courtney; I love Smeagol! He creeped me out in The Fellowship... but by the end of The Two Towers I was wishing Sam would stop picking on him!
~ ishandahalf - Okay, too much stuff, I need to number it all. 1) -gasp!- Tootsie roll pop! Gimme! Gimme! 2) If you were trying to beat your last review in terms of length, I think you pretty much accomplished that! I'm upgrading the machete to a chainsaw! ; ) 3) Are we adding question marks to the exclamation points and periods now? 4) OMG! I can't believe you remembered that angels line from After Midnight! Even I didn't remember that! I use that analogy too often... 5) I was wondering when someone would notice the irony of Rogue being a singer there and then dreaming of becoming an actress here. In accordance with that theme, in the next story I'll make her a standup comedian or a primetime TV host! ; ) 6) Hmm... the insane have a natural immunity to other insane people... Interesting theory. You might be on to something. It could explain why there are so many of us here! : )
~ Marvel - Funny thing, I was actually wondering about you a couple of days ago. For some reason I remembered how you said you were moving and it suddenly popped into my head, "I wonder how Marvel's doing." Kinda weird, huh? (But then again, we're talking about me here so maybe it's not so weird after all... ; )
~ missy42 - Norbert? You got directions from Norbert?! What did I tell you about listening to that noodle head? And what are you talking about? I do not leave you all hanging! I gave everyone the proper cliffhanging equipment to ensure a safe and speedy - -interrupted by persistent shoulder tapping by muse who points to storage room where equipment sits in nice, shiny new bags- Oh. Uhh... oops?
CHAPTER 5
Walking Alone
It was the not knowing that was killing him the most. After the sheriff and deputy left, Remy attempted to go about his normal day. That endeavor lasted all of five seconds before he shot out the front door and down the streets of Hazard to search for Marie. He was honest enough with himself to realize that the places he thought to check were probably places that the sheriff had already gone over. But he simply could not sit idly by, hoping she'd walk through the door. Not when something could have happened to her. Not when something in his soul was screaming for him to find her.
- oOo -
Strawberry."
"Vanilla."
"Strawberry."
"Vanilla."
"Straw– "
"Will I be needin' a scorecard for this li'l argument?" Margaret asked as she approached the counter where Remy and Marie were seated. "Or maybe you two would like me to build a stage outside the diner so I can charge admission." She set two milkshakes down in front of them. "What's the topic of debate this time? Or do I really wanna ask?"
"Maggie," Remy began, "will you please tell dis misinformed river rat dat strawberry is a better flavor ice cream dan vanilla."
"It is not, bayou brains," Marie returned with mock annoyance, sticking her tongue out at him.
He ignored her and continued. "Vanilla's too plain, too common. Strawberry's got some flavor t' it an' it's – "
"You jus' like it 'cause it's pink," his best friend interjected. "Frankly, Ah'm startin' ta wonder 'bout you, Cajun. Maybe there's somethin' you should be tellin' all yoah girlfrien– "
"Okay, cease fire." Margaret held up her hands. "All right, so this is debate number... Lord only knows what number we're up to now. Lemme get this straight: Remy, you prefer strawberry; an' Marie, you like vanilla?" She waited for their confirming nods. "Then why did the two of you order chocolate?"
Both teens looked down at their drinks and then at each other, before facing Margaret once again.
"Well, dis is a milkshake, Maggie," Remy explained patiently. "Ev'rybody knows dat chocolate makes de best milkshake."
Marie nodded her agreement.
With a sigh, Margaret waved them away. "Get out of here, you li'l devils. The two of you are headaches waitin' to happen. Leave an old woman alone. And in peace," she added.
Remy grinned, picking up his order and leaning across the counter to kiss Margaret on the cheek. "You ain't old, Maggie. Ya even younger dan de day I meet you."
"Charmer," he heard her respond on his way toward the exit.
"So, chère," he called over his shoulder, slipping through the glass door, "break's over. You ready t' head back home an' take on Maman's bakin' frenzy again?"
Silence met his inquiry. He turned to discover that she hadn't made it out the door yet. She was still in the diner, standing near a booth, chatting with several members of their high school football team.
Something about the scene bothered Remy. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he knew it was there. Like a gut instinct that was clamoring to be heard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, per se. Marie was a very friendly person. She stopped to say hello to nearly everyone she recognized. But an undeniable itch had manifested in his hands, and he wanted nothing more than to march back inside and pull her away from the slick glances the jocks were giving her.
"Sugah?"
He jerked out of his thoughts. Marie had joined him outside.
"Sorry 'bout that," she said, linking her arm in his and leading him down the sidewalk. "Jus' sayin' hi ta some guys from school. You okay?" she asked when he remained quiet.
"Oui." It wasn't "just saying hi." He could read it in their body language. In her body language. In the way she slightly thrust her hip toward their table. The way one of the guys leaned in closer, brushing against her arm. There had been flirting. There had been attraction. And it annoyed the hell out of him.
Why'm I gettin' all riled up? he demanded of himself. I've seen Marie wit' boyfriends before. Never had any real problems wit' dem, 'cept f'r de fact dat dey were all idiots. He frowned. So, what's changed? Why do I feel almost...?
"Ah swear, yoah spacin' out on me more an' more these days."
Remy blinked. "Quoi? [What?]" He realized that she was standing on the threshold of his house, the door held open by her outstretched hand.
"Ah'd invite you in," she quipped, "but seein' as you live here an' all, that might be a li'l unnecessary."
Muttering under his breath about her poor comedic skill, he followed her through the front door. A few years after moving to Hazard, his mother had been able to save enough money to buy a house on the edge of town. It was by no means a lavish house – only two small bedrooms – but it was entirely theirs. Bought and paid for through hard work and sacrifice.
"Maman?" he called out. "We're back!"
"Still in de kitchen, petit."
As they entered the room, they were greeted by the sight of every conceivable baking apparatus known to man, spread along all available flat surfaces.
"How's dat invasion o' Germany goin'?" Remy joked as he settled down into a chair, making a space on the table for his milkshake.
Susanne smiled, running her flour-covered finger down her son's nose as she passed him. "Did you give Margaret de pie?"
"She loved it," Marie reported. She opened the tap at the sink and began washing the dishes that Susanne had piled there. "She made sure ta tell th' waitresses not ta accidentally serve it ta th' customers."
Remy smirked. "Shoulda never told you dat you made a great apple pie, Maman. It's all gone t' ya head."
"An' you're an expert on havin' a big head, n'est-ce pas, mon fils?"
From over the rush of water, they heard a snicker.
"So, Marie," Susanne continued, "how are t'ings wit' Michael?"
Both teenagers winced at the name.
Noticing their reactions, Susanne questioned, "What?"
Remy stood and began putting away ingredients. "He was cheatin' on her. Dey broke up 'bout a week an' a half ago."
"Oh, petite, I'm so sorry."
"Thanks," Marie rinsed off a bowl and placed it on the nearby rack to dry, "but Ah'm not too torn up about it. We were kinda driftin' over th' months anyway."
"Well, dere are plenty o' other young men out dere f'r you," consoled Susanne.
Across the room, Remy scoffed. "Yeah, an' she already started flirtin' wit' some o' 'em t'day."
"Ah did not!"
"Did too. Back in de diner, wit' de jocks."
"Ah was jus' bein' polite. Josh is in mah English class."
"Is dat why you were practic'lly sittin' on de table?"
"Oh, yoah one ta talk, mistah! What were you an' Lisa doin' on th' bench in de girls' locker room last month, hmm?"
"Remy LeBeau!"
He shot Marie a malevolent glare before turning to placate his mother. "Wasn't not'in' serious, Maman. Didn' even start it. Lisa dragged me in dere an' started kissin' me."
"An' I suppose you were too much o' a gentleman t' refuse?" his mother asked dryly. She sighed and her voice lost most of its scolding tone. "You are more like Jean-Luc dan I t'ought would have been possible, petit." She kissed his forehead. "But please don' make me a grand-mère anytime soon. You're much too young."
"I promise, Maman."
"You better," she chided him softly, picking up a wrapped apple pie. "I'm gon' give dis t' Mrs. Watkins down de street. You two t'ink you can avoid bloodshed f'r dat long?"
Remy grinned as he swiped a dishtowel off its perch. "Maman, de house will still be standin' an' we'll still be breathin' when you get back."
Susanne gave her son a dubious look. "Marie, one o' de pies is f'r you an' ya poppa. Don' let Remy eat it all."
"Okay, thanks."
When his mother was out the door, Remy turned to his friend. Twirling the towel up tight, he cracked it smartly against her hip.
"Ow!" she cried out, barely catching the measuring cup in her soapy hands. She placed her cupped palm under the running faucet, letting the water pool there before flinging the liquid at Remy. "If you want a war, sugah, you can at least fight fair!"
"Fair? Is dat ya idea o' fair? Tellin' Maman 'bout de t'ing wit' Lisa?"
"You were th' one sayin' Ah was throwin' mahself at th' boys in th' diner!"
"Well, you were!"
"Ah was not!"
"Were too!"
"Will you at least wait until Ah finish with th' dishes so Ah can come over there an' whack you upside th' head proper like?"
"Ya destroyin' m' mother's picture-perfect image o' her li'l boy."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh Lord, give me th' strength ta not gag at that comment. Yoah momma knows you ain't a baby saint, swamp rat."
With a mock gasp, he ordered, "Bite ya tongue, chèrie!" He dipped his hand into the flour container and began sprinkling the powder over her head.
She cried out in indignation, twisting to the side and trying to push him away. However, her foot slipped on a small puddle and she went crashing to the floor, pulling him down with her. They landed hard, with most of his weight slamming into her body.
Somewhat disoriented by the sudden fall, Remy raised himself onto his forearms, peering down at Marie. Her normally auburn hair was now tainted with even more streaks of white, thanks to his earlier flour-dusting. Her eyes were shut and her brows were slightly knitted, as if in pain. Although it was rather inappropriate for the moment, he couldn't help but think how smooth and porcelain-like her skin appeared to be. He wondered if it was as silky as it seemed.
Her groan of discomfort brought him back to reality. He rolled aside and stood, offering her his hand. "You okay, river rat?" He purposefully avoided his familiar French endearments for her, trying to remind himself that she was his best friend, and that the way he was currently gawking at her was anything but friendly.
"No." As he helped her to her feet, she mewled, "Ah can jus' imagine th' big ol' bruise that's gonna be th' result o' that." She delicately touched her hip and winched. "Ah can feel it already."
"Ya overreactin'."
"Oh, really? How'd you like it if Ah fell on top o' you like that?"
Wouldn't really mind, actu'lly. All dose nice, soft curves... Remy mentally slapped himself. His damn thoughts were wandering again. And back into forbidden territory, no less.
"Can we finish cleanin' up before one o' us ends up in th' hospital with serious injuries?" she asked, returning to the sink.
He nodded. "Oui." The thoughts were merely some asinine phase involving hormones, he told himself. Given a little time, they were sure to go away.
- oOo -
Three months later, they were still haunting him. And if he didn't know any better, he would have sworn they were getting worse. Now, he was noticing the way she walked. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. The way she chewed at her bottom lip when trying to figure out a difficult math problem. Those cute little Marie mannerisms were driving him crazy, but at the same time, they were the most adorable things he had ever seen.
He couldn't make sense of any of it. Why was he suddenly looking at her as if she were a girl? Not a friend. Not a buddy. Not someone whose knowledge of motorcycles rivaled his own. But as a flesh and blood young woman, who drew his gaze to her with even the slightest of motions.
The enigma was making his head hurt. And the pain only got worse when he caught sight of her down the hall, making her way over to his locker.
"So, guess what," she said, by way of greeting.
"Ya string o' datin' disasters has fin'lly come t' an end, an' I don' have t' put up wit' any more o' ya loser boyfriends?"
A sour smile appeared. "Funny, but no. Josh asked me ta th' dance!"
Inwardly, he scowled. Josh. The boy she'd started flirting with in the diner all those months ago. Remy was sure the quarterback would have made a move sooner, if Marie hadn't been dating her other classmate, Brian Dale. Not that Remy had anything against Brian. But for the entire month that he and Marie were dating, Remy had wanted to twist the other boy's head clean off.
A natural reaction f'r a best friend, his conscience whispered assuredly. What was not natural was how he watched her lips move as she spoke. How he wanted nothing more than to see what they tasted like.
"So, Ah wanna set you up with someone."
And just like that, the thoughts were pushed to the farthest corner of his mind. "Ya kiddin' me, right?" He finished collecting the necessary items from his locker and they began walking down the corridor.
"Nope. Ah'm as serious as all get out." She smiled. "Someone's had a crush on you fo' a while now, an' she's been askin' me ta – "
"You c'n stop right dere. Ain' gon' happen."
"Why not?" Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and confusion. She honestly didn't know. Not that he ever wanted to tell her.
Why not? he thought almost bitterly. 'Cause maybe 'm tired o' bein' de resident bad boy dat all de good girls wan' test deir rebellious sides wit'. Maybe 'm tired o' sittin' so close t' a girl, but never bein' close wit' her. Not like I am wit' you.
"Jus' ain't," he answered instead, halting in front of her classroom. The look on her face hadn't changed and he felt a twinge of guilt for his harsh, unexplained words. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he favored her with an impish grin. "Don' hold much stock in ya matchmakin' abilities, petite."
She relaxed visibly. "Ah'll have you know that Ah'm a first-rate matchmaker. Ah got Todd an' Beth t'gether, didn' Ah?"
"Dey broke up after two months."
"But Ah bet it was th' best two months o' their lives!"
He couldn't help but chuckle. "Get in dere before ya teacher yanks you in by de collar."
"Cove after school?"
"An' you wonder why we haven't finished de Harley yet," he stated wryly. "We spend more time at de cove dan we do at de garage. It's a wonder Jim hasn't fired me yet."
She looked at him questioningly, her eyes soft and wide.
"Cove," he confirmed with a sigh, before continuing down the hall. "But I at least want t' finish dat bike before I graduate," he called back to her.
- oOo -
"You can not!"
"Can, too."
"Not."
"Too."
"Ah don' believe you."
His only response was a sly grin.
The two teens were perched on top of the fallen tree. Marie sat facing him, her knees drawn and bare soles nestled against the rough surface of the bark. Remy was turned away from her, gazing out at the quiet river next to them.
"Yoah makin' this stuff up," she accused.
He snorted, then twisted his body toward her. "Don' know why you don' t'ink it's true. You know who m' poppa was."
"Prove it."
An eyebrow quirked in her direction. "An' here I was t'inkin' you had some faith in me, petite."
"Ah do have faith in you, swamp rat," she replied. "Ah jus' wanna see a demonstration o' these so-called pickpocketin' skills o' yoahs."
He sighed heavily, casting his gaze to the ground. Marie could feel his abrupt change in mood, as if it were a tangible thing in front of her.
"I'd rather not, chère. Dey jus' bring back bad mem'ries. T'ings I try not t' t'ink about. 'Sides, I'd much rather..."
"Much rather what?" she asked when he didn't complete his sentence. She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch his eyes. When he finally did look up, the intensity she found there startled her.
"Much rather be doin' somet'in' else," he whispered, resting one hand on her exposed ankle. He languidly traced the outline of the delicate silver chain bound around her foot.
Marie tried to swallow around the sudden lump that had mysteriously formed in her throat. Remy's eyes were following the slow movements of his fingers, and for that she was glad. She didn't think she could have taken another helping of that potent stare.
The way his touch was singing over her skin was confusing, to say the least. He was her best friend. Her confidant. She'd known him for years and had never even felt an inkling of a spark toward him. She didn't deny the fact that Remy was attractive – she knew that he was – but she never thought she'd be attracted to him. The odd burning sensation rippling across her flesh, however, was telling her otherwise.
She forced herself to concentrate. "W-what would you rather be doin'?"
As if in slow motion, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. She couldn't be sure, but it looked as if the edges of his irises were crackling red with energy. She held her breath as he leaned forward, obliterating the gap that separated them, one hand still resting on her ankle. He stopped barely a hair's breadth from her. He took a moment to study her, taking in the somewhat fearful and yet mildly curious expression on her face. "Somet'in' like dis," he breathed just before brushing his lips over hers.
The initial shock that ran through her body was frightening. Not because she was afraid that he would hurt her, but because it was so powerful, so all-consuming. She soon found herself lowering her knees, leaving her to straddle the tree trunk, and angling even closer toward him.
He responded by deepening his kiss, bringing his hands up to caress her neck. With practiced ease, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, teasingly touching her own. A grin of satisfaction almost appeared on his face as he heard her moan in pleasure. One set of fingers slowly slipped down to her collarbone, followed by the other, testing the warmth of her bared neckline.
With one final taste of her lips, he broke their kiss, pulling away from her languorously, almost regretfully. Sometime during their intimate moment, her eyes had closed. The look she had seemed blissful, sated, with just a hint of hunger. He wondered if he wore a similar expression.
Marie almost didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to break whatever delicious spell had descended upon them. The kiss had been... it had been... beautiful. She didn't think another word could do it justice. It was intense and passionate. And yet sweet and... loving.
Lovin'? She was surprised at her own choice of words. This is Remy we're talkin' 'bout here! Remy! Me an' him, we don' work t'gether. Friends, yes. Lovers, no. We're not boyfriend-girlfriend material. But her thoughts betrayed her yet again, sowing little seeds of doubt in her mind. Are we?
She finally opened her eyes, only to find Remy watching her intently. The inevitable awkward moment fell between them, and Marie desperately groped for something to say.
"That was... that was..."
"Incredible," he provided, setting her at ease with one of his familiar grins. "Amazin'. Mind-blowin'. Take ya pick o' adjectives, chèrie." He moved in closer, as if to repeat the gesture.
She licked her lips in anticipation. Just thinking about his kiss made her ache all over. She leaned closer toward him, meeting him halfway, as if being magnetically drawn to his person.
"Marie..." His voice was breathy. And though he had said her name a million times before, the way it rolled off his tongue at that moment sent undeniable shivers crawling down her spine. "I want t' do dat again."
The movements of his lips mesmerized her. Even if her life had depended on it, she probably wouldn't have been able to tear her gaze away from them. "Yes." She gave her permission in a tone that was husky with desire, yearning for the exact same thing he was asking for.
His hand gently brushed a few ivory tendrils away from her face. "But before I do dat," his lips whispered against hers in the briefest of touches, "I have t' know..."
She nodded slightly, encouraging him to finish. She would have told him to stop talking altogether and just kiss her, but his deep, rich voice was strengthening the spell.
His mouth fluttered along her jaw, leaving butterfly kisses in its wake. His breath was warm and intoxicating against her ear. "Did you feel it?"
The question barely registered with her. In lieu of a reply, another involuntary moan escaped her lips as his mouth came down on hers once more.
This time when they pulled apart several breathless moments later, Marie kept her eyes locked onto Remy's. She had been right; his irises did seem to be burning around the edges. She was further fascinated by this new revelation, and felt the familiar pull toward him.
It was then that she heard the slight clinking of metal against metal. The sound was so faint that had she been further away, she would have missed it entirely. She dropped her gaze to where Remy was playing with something in his hands, pouring it from one to the other and then back again. It took her a minute to recognize her silver necklace. Gasping in shock, her hands flew to her neck to confirm the chain's absence.
"How did you...?"
"Guess dat means you didn' feel it, eh, chère?" he asked rather smugly, enjoying the flustered look on her face.
His words eventually pushed through her still hazy mind, realization slowly dawning on her. This was his way o' demonstratin' his pickpocketin' skills. It wasn't 'cause he felt –
She stopped herself before she could complete the thought. Best to let it lie. It would only complicate things further if she overanalyzed whatever had happened.
"All right, Cajun, you proved yoah point." She reached for her necklace. "Fork it over." Before her fingers could grasp the chain, he securely closed his fist around it.
"Not so fast, petite. What kind o' a t'ief would I be if I jus' gave away whatever I lifted?"
"That's not funny, Remy. Can Ah have it back now, please?"
He slid off the tree trunk and began strolling down the riverbank. "No, I t'ink I'll keep it. It's kinda pretty."
Stalking over to him, she demanded sternly, "Give it back."
"Non."
"Remy, Ah'm warnin' you..."
To irk her even more, he crossed his arms over his chest, securing the silver chain within their folds. He was only teasing her really. He had no intention of keeping the necklace, and would sooner or later return it to her. But only after having a little fun first.
"What's so special 'bout dis li'l trinket?" he asked, struggling to keep the grin from his face as she attempted to pry his arms from their locked position. "One o' ya Romeos give dis t' you? Who was it? Michael? Brian? Dat jock from de diner?"
Frustrated and on the verge of tears from her fruitless efforts against him, she spat out, "No, you jerk, it was mah momma's." And with that declaration, she turned on her heel and stomped away in anger.
With those words, Remy's entire body deflated, as if he suddenly lost every ounce of his energy. His arms fell limply to his sides and the fist surrounding the necklace loosened. He knew how much Marie cherished anything that had to do with her mother.
"Merde," he mumbled, as he followed her back to their cove. When he got there, she was furiously shoving books into her bag. "Chère, I'm sorry. You know I didn' mean anyt'in' by it. I was jus' teasin'."
Marie sighed. She knew she was overacting. Remy did this sort of thing all the time and it had never bothered her before. In fact, she'd more often than not go along with his antics, giving as good as she got. Perhaps it was simply a combination of things. Her senses were still reeling from their kiss, and she was utterly confused by its implications – or lack thereof. Add to that the fact that she was fiercely protective of her mother's memory and the precious few things she had to remember her by.
Her body had relaxed, Remy noticed, and she'd ceased her infuriated movements. Her back was still facing him but at least she seemed calmer, ready to hear his apology if not accept it. He stepped closer to her. Holding the necklace at both ends, he brought it over her head and back around her neck, before brushing her hair aside to secure the clasp. His fingers lingered a moment at her nape and then dropped back down to his sides.
"I wouldn't do anyt'in' t' hurt you, Marie," he whispered. "You know dat."
She nodded and leaned back into his arms, feeling them wrap around her securely. "Ah know."
She also knew that his nearness was confusing her, more than it ever had before.
- oOo -
The search had been futile. He'd walked over every square foot in town, with nothing to show for it but a weary spirit and a creased brow. It was nearly twenty-four hours since he'd last seen her, last spoken to her. The fear that she was in some sort of trouble was increasing with each tick of the clock.
No one had seen her since the previous day. Absorption powers were one thing, but to disappear completely? Even that was beyond Marie's abilities. She wasn't in the diner, in the garage, or hanging around the high school. Neither had she slept over at a friend's house or made plans to go out of town. The only place he hadn't searched was their cove. But the sheriff had specifically told him to stay away, at least until they had looked over the premises first.
A knock sounded at the front door. It was too much to hope that it was Marie. Remy knew she wouldn't have bothered with knocking. She would have marched right in and hollered out his name as if she lived there herself, which was true half of the time.
He dragged himself off the couch and across the room to the door. Swinging it open, he blinked as the afternoon sun tumbled in. He was surprised to see the sheriff and his deputy standing before him once more.
"Remy," Sheriff Miller began, his eyes filled with regret, "I... I don't know how to say this..."
The entire world collapsed. Or so it seemed to Remy. His vision darkened. His throat parched. And for the life of him, he couldn't seem to draw a steady breath.
Dey found her, he thought. Dey found her an' now dey came t' tell me dat she's... she's...
He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't want to finish the sentence. The pain was overwhelming, like an iron fist around his heart, and much, much worse than he ever thought possible.
When his superior didn't seem inclined to continue, Deputy Stephens stepped in. "Remy LeBeau," he stated in a grave, solemn tone, "you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say..."
Ahh, and the drama continues...
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