Rumor has It

By Ariesque

Genre: Adventure/Mystery/Romance

Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language

Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.

Author's Notes: From Martiza Manga [thank you] --Tante Mattie is the "traiteur", -the spiritual healer and mystic guide- to both the Thieves and Assassins of New Orleans. She is the mother-figure to every member of the Guilds, being a lot older than all of them. She has always been considered to be part of both Guilds, which often put her in the middle of their conflicts. X-Men Evo is coming back to KWB [rejoice, cable owners and local channelers alike]! Be sure to watch it, it's new, and...yeah. Sorry I didn't get around to posting this last week; had an essay due. Before you look over Remy's POV and yell, "What the hell happened to his accent?!" Consider my sanity and typing precision. I have neither left from Henri's and I just gave up with Remy's. If it bothers you, pretend it's some kind of diary entry. Anything that makes you forget about his accent. :P

Chapter Three: Not out of Nawlins Yet

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1. Rogue's Writings:

Random parchment paper # 1, on this treacherous day of July the twenty-fifth, MMIII:

Unfortunate luck I have! To be kidnapped, cradled in the crib of death, mingled in a ruthless family quarters, where I met up with a past [and preferably dead] love, dueled with him for the morning, and left to die a humiliating death of beef jerky and soy sauce.

And what was I to think, asking for a fountain pen and scrap paper, that I'd end up with no money, no -good- food, and a drippy nose without even an umbrella to shelter me from the rain? Oh yes, it has definitely started to rain [although I haven't seen a day in July with rain until today], and here I am, crouching under some unemployment office, munching on jerky [that I've managed to get with soy sauce from a some sidewalk vendor, free of charge] and can you blame me for feeling abandoned?

This is all Remy LeBeau's fault. For every moment I live I wish him dead--deader than the X-Men believe he is.

You do not comprehend how much -hate- I have compacted in my chest--it's enough for Lucifer to step down and crown me the ruler of all Hell...

Oh Henri LeBeau by Dieu, why couldn't you have left me to the mercy of Belladonna? At least I'd know I died in the presence of -somebody--there ain't anybody for a mile around--not like the Nawlins I always pictured, with police raiding some group at some stoplight...

Enough feeling sorry for myself. I've only so much room, and who knows when I'd be fortunate enough again to acquire another random paper, so I'll explain the purpose for my lamenting. Dearest John, if you only knew...

I don't know how I did it, but when I finally woke up, I heard distant voices from outside my window, and c'mon--who doesn't hate being woken up by somebody else from a reason beyond your understanding?

So I prop myself up, unlatch the window, and stick my head out to see who dareth disturb me at this hour. Turns out it was that supercilious Emil person-cousin, whatever, so I figured I should better keep my trap shut, because I don't have anything against the guy...yet. And what d'ya know? He noticed me [although I don't blame the guy: when one sticks one's head out the window, one is bound to be noticed] and shouts, "Well, g'mornin' femme! How'd y' sleep?" I liked his change of personality and decided I should respond, when another, more familiar voice rang in, "Who y' be talkin' t', Emil? Dere be another cat y' found?" There was no denying it--this one was Remy.

Not possessing the desire to speak to the "dead man", I proceeded to hastily pull my head back, but underestimating how low the sill was, knocked my cranium against the window. I flung my head forward, and hung there, recollecting the pain surging through my brain.

Then from below: "Chere? I--I mean, Rogue?" Remy demanded Emil away, and I carefully pulled my head safely inside again. The Cajun still hung around, saying, "Rogue? You okay?"

Annoyed, I replied, "Scram, swamp rat. I was doing fine w' Emil until you arrived." He didn't go, though. Still there, red eyes and all.

So I said, "Ain't it clear enough? What the heck are you still doing here?"

"I'm..." a sad smile drew across his face, and I swear, I would've uprooted the tree he was under and whacked him halfway across the world to China if I wasn't so far away. "I'm reminiscin'."

"You're -what-??? God help you, ya bast..." but I didn't finish, because I had swatted the window contraption, and down went the window on my precious fingers.

I daresay I screamed.

Of course I panicked. It was my left hand, on the same arm I had broken a few months before and I can't tell you how much I was jumbling and jabbering, trying to lift the latch off my fingers. Somehow, it had rusted something mighty thick, and I wasn't helping with my fidgeting.

So there I was, staring at my dearest fingers, knowing they were numb by now, and wondering how'd it'd look with them amputated.

Suddenly, a person appeared from the other side, and I screamed. Not because I was surprised, oh no.

But because that person turned out to be Remy.

He reached under the latch and pulled open the rusted contraption with the expertise of those only skilled thieves would possess, and I whisked my hand away from underneath. I glanced at him, awkwardly. He stared back, his face expressionless.

Then, I remembered what he made me go through and quickly pushed down the rest of the window. The shock of my sudden movement caused him to jerk his hands back as to not get trapped, and teetered on the branch before he fell off.

I daresay -he- screamed.

Too bad for me, he didn't break his back. No-- he had caught hold of the branches, and slowly got down from the tree. Lucky LeBeau, I thought, furious at his fortune. He looked up at my window, saluted, and entered the manor.

Two minutes later, there was a knock at my door, and I replied, "Go away, Remy. I've had enough of you for today." There was a short silence before a voice returned, "It's not Rems, chere. Dis be Henri."

"Henri!" I flashed a grin, and swung open the door. There he stood, a face so fresh, attire so mild, he couldn't be of any contrast to his brother. And yet, I liked him better.

"Y' hungry, chere? Tante's got some fruit on de table if y' are." I blushed, appreciative.

"Thanks, Henri, but I think I'll wait 'till Remy's gone." Henri nodded, understandingly.

"Still on bad terms?"

"He lied to my friends and not to mention me. I rather not talk to him if I can avoid it." Henri smiled, a brilliant one that lit up his face.

"Come down now, chere. He's out w' Theo, so y' can." He offered me his arm, and checking twice to see if I should, I wrapped my gloved hand under it, as he led me into the kitchen. There sat two women I didn't know, a basket of fruit between them, and a look of curiousity across both their faces. We were introduced, and I was offered some strawberries, much to my delight. As I downed my fifth strawberry, Emil suddenly burst in, and upon seeing me, blushed scarlet.

"Morning Tante, Merci, Henri," he greeted, and nodded to me. "'Scuse me f' interruptin', but I heard de femme was lost...?" I nodded, and his blush deepened. "Well, I thinks we must take de boat up and drive de bus down t' de square..."

"Where y' can see every bit of Nawlins from! Ga lee, Emil--you're quite some genius!" cried Henri. He turned to me and grinned. "Shall we take y' now?" He asked me.

"I guess. I..." I pushed back the basket, but Merci pushed it back into my possession.

"It's yours, mon ami. Nice meetin' y'," she said, smiling. I took up the basket and thanking them all, followed the men out to the boats, the docks, and finally to the bus station.

It wasn't very long before we encountered the two thieves who'd left before us--when I recognized Remy as one; I immediately rushed behind Henri, hoping he'd just pass.

Boy can I underestimate.

"Well, if it isn't the charismatic companions and..what's this? Rogue? Leavin' so soon?" asked the red-eyed thief, coming round to glare at us.

Henri, God bless him, came between us.

"Beat it, Rems. We're returnin' her soon as y' leave." Remy raised a sly eye at his brother.

"Ga lee, Henri. Soft spot f' your stowaway? Well, see if y' last long on her list," he rasped.

I countered for Henri with: "And how 'bout your list, LeBeau?" You think I was even on -that-?" Theo snickered, Henri paled, and Emil called that the bus was about to leave, but I didn't move. How could I? Not when Remy stood there, facing me with a malignant stare.

Then with a sneer, "Bien Dieu, take her away, Henri. She sickens me."

Which I attacked, "Who can deny you as a fiend?" He glared at me.

"Witch."

"Traitor."

"Liar."

"Stop!" cried Henri, grabbing my arm, which kept me from socking LeBeau. "Emil's right. We should catch thet bus. Theo, make sure Remy gits home now." The trench coat clad antagonist barred his teeth.

"Dis ain't over, Rogue."

"Who needs to end it? Forget it even started," I retaliated. We exchanged evil glares as Henri dragged me onto the bus, and plopped me down next to Emil. Then, he turned to the boy and said he'd need to follow Theo; else he'd have no peace of Remy. I thanked him once more before he jumped off, taking a sprint back to the docks.

It was then Emil broke the silence by whispering, "You're one o' dem, aren't you?" He startled me; I tried to ignore the annoyance besetting on my face.

"Who's 'them', Emil?" I asked, mindlessly.

"You know," his voice so quiet, I could barely hear, "a mutant." I popped a strawberry into my mouth, trying to think of what to say.

"Who told ya? That brute, Remy?" Emil nodded. "Well, I'm not dat bad--not as bad as he." Emil sat back, looking disturbed.

"He told me de real reason he left your manor," he continued, clutching his coat, "said it was a duty to s'port the guild. For Etienne.

"Etienne?" I asked, absently. Emil's eyes clouded for a second.

"Cousin of Rems."

"Oh."

"He died." I choked.

"Why so?"

He sat back, debating over what to say. "Remy was in charge o' his Tithing and things...just went wrong." I turned to the boy, as if I understood. We sat in the bus, silent from our previous conversation, until I said, "I'd like to see him, if you don't mind.

He didn't.

***

The graveyard was empty, except for a few people paying their respects. Emil led me to a small corner in the whole lot--a sprucing grave, no headstone, but piles of magnificent flowers before a pile of dirt.

"The pile o' dirt's for his headstone. Remy comes everyday to bring flowers and shave de grass," explained Emil. I nodded, patting the dirt thoughtfully.

"Must've been a good guy, making Rems come back to tend his grave and all," I mused aloud. Emil grinned, sadly.

"Remy blames it on himself everyday."

I gave him a quick look. "When did Etienne die anyway?"

"Less than a month ago. Sad lot our Remy was--stayed out here 'til we made him come back. Jean Luc -that's Remy's pops- seemed disappointed, and Dieu only knows how Remy felt when they laid de body dere. Said he'd stay an work f' a headstone."

"Remy has been through a lot," I muttered. Emil nodded.

"Well, Rems is strong. And I'd better take y' up t' de square 'Fore Henri comes lookin' f' me, demandin' where I been," he said, tearin' across the graveyard. I blew Etienne a kiss and bounded after my young companion.

He led me to the Square and I told him I'd be fine from here, despite his pleas to keep him as a guide. But me being the stupid one here, shooed him away and now am paying for it. I reckon I've been up and down the square twenty times now and still see no one familiar.

Right now, I really could use someone like John. Or Kitty.

Or maybe even Remy.

Anyone, really, who would redeem me from this unrelenting rain.

2. Professor Charles Xavier

Jubilation said, "Well, I'm sure glad Rogue got lost." and I looked sideways at her, to reply, "That's a terrible thing to say." If Rogue hadn't been "kidnapped" [never could bring myself to believe Kitty's story. I think she lost Rogue], then we wouldn't be circling New Orleans in a dirty, smelly bus, that I had to pay $5.50 for (who pays $5.50 for two bus fares? [apparently me]).

"But think of it this way, Prof.," she continued, chewing intransigently on the same wad of gum for God knows how long, "if Rogue weren't "kidnapped" and Remy is supposedly "dead" [not that I believe that junk. But this isn't about what I think], you'd still be working on your Atkins' Diet and watching Larry King Live." I frowned to emphasis I didn't enjoy her knowing I was on the wretched diet or watching such a show [must've been that blasted Logan who snitched. Or Ororo. I shall need to inquire around].

"Look, Miss Lee," I said, trying to maintain such a friendly composure, "I'm not in any mood to reside to any conclusions, and I hate to have you "like" seeing Rogue and Remy gone, when both are considered dead at this period of time. I do not enjoy having to listen to you in a disgusting bus or do I like the idea of having to drive around, when our tickets only bring us so far, and I do not want or desire to continue any further without cooperation from your part." I did so like what I said, but Jubilation was far from attentive. She had turned her head, and was now staring stiffly out, her eyes seemingly glued to the glass.

"Hey, that looks like Remy," I heard her mutter. I was outraged with having spent such a speech thick with words to have it thrown aside so she could look at Remy look-alikes.

So in an effort to gain audience, I growled. "That's it! We're going back to the camp!"

"But Prof..."

"You heard me! I can't understand why we even are here in the first place!" She said no more, but pouted and muttered to herself, "But it -was- him."

"You can call regrets later on," I returned, and sat back, agitated and worn more than ever.

3. Remy LeBeau

My arms ache from the sudden strain directed upon them because of Rogue. Rogue. The name still stings my eyes and I'm lost in my own world. Rogue. She's gone, I remind myself. Nothing to care about. Nothing to worry over.

But no. This is Rogue, mon ami, the disfunctional beb who can't tell directions from ingredients. This be the same girl who mixes Korn and Michelle Branch. She be the one I never could let go.

Sure, there've been other girls in my life. Jean, for one, who tasted sweet, Belladonna, a lemon that leaves the tang on your tongue from now 'til kingdom come. But Rogue was different. Rogue I never tasted.

She's the only girl I've liked and never even touched her lips with my own. A cake with terrible icing, in fact. Can I get one kiss? Fist, I'll sock your ugly nose in. Can I get some coffee with your sugar? Shall I knock your red eyes in so hard they turn white?

So much for the theory that girls are so easy to win. Rogue defies everything I've ever believed and so much more.

But what I can't get over is the fact I can't get over her. She's got some sort of lock on me, and putain, is it strong.

That's why I needed to sneak out, to stalk the forbidden fruit. Under Henri's wide nose and up 'til I reached town. Dieu, it was raining [not a day in July have I ever seen one like today], and I was miserable. Had on my best frock and Henri's boots, because I wanted to impress her. Rogue? Impressed by a philanderer? Go figure.

Rode the bus up 'til I got to the Square. Thought I saw Jubes on another bus while I was getting my things-- or rather, other people's belongings-- together. The rain was really rattling now, and I could hear my conscience screaming at me to get back before Henri caws palavers as he usually does. But then, my heart argued: Rogue. The girl who calls me wretched and loves John?

Oui.

It ain't long before I make up my mind to find her. It didn't take long either. She is in the cemetery. Dieu, she stands like a statue in the mortuary, and I almost thought her as one. But tell me, who has auburn hair with a white stripe in a mortuary? Rogue, femme of my misfortune that's who. Drenched in rain and soaked well to the bone, she's like the Grim Reaper himself.

She's beautiful.

I want to laugh, to tell her I won after all, that it was obvious she'd fall before I did. But who can say such to someone they can't let go of? Dieu, not me.

She's standing by a gravestone, head bent, and as I draw closer, I know she's crying. I've been through it all because of her, and yet I still can't find words of comfort. She was over Eitenne's grave. Dieu, she's even got -him- at her feet, and he's dead.

"R-Rogue," I stammer, but have no time to continue, for she delivers a powerful blow to my head, and I encounter an angel statue before I could even go down. The wing cuts the side of my head and I hit the ground, wet, hurt, and most of all, confused.

When I open my eyes again, she's at my side, a look of mixed concern and satisfaction on her pallid face.

"Rogue," I say again, wanting to tell more. I had given her every name in the book, and now all I can utter is that word.

"Remy." She brings her slim, gloved fingers to my forehead and dabs it with some sort of parchment paper. As if by reflex, I kiss her hand, and instead of drawing it back, she places it at my cheek.

"Why is it," I breathe, my head dizzy, "whenever we meet, I'm always the one to get hurt by you?" The smile she shines scares me; never have I see anything like it before.

"Because," she whispers. I can hear the rain buffet her body. "You never learned tah duck."

I then take her hand and although I know I need to let go, she doesn't teach me how, and even if she does, I refuse to learn.

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Responses to Chapter Two: Southern Gamble

FuzzyElf: Thank you for your consant checking up on my story. I'll heed the heads-up on translations (I never liked writing them anyway. So why bother writing it at all?)

Ishandahalf: My friend said 'Passions' was cool, and the first time I saw it, I was like talking about some girl named Cheryl, and my friend was like, what are you Talking about??? So I never watched it again, because I'm easily confused [imagine me right now in geometry].

Randirogue: Never fear, dear reader! I, Ariesque, am only exprimenting, and it'll only last for four chapters, so bear with me until the end of this Explanation please. And I know you've heard enough nagging on your part, but I'm really looking forward to Callous. One day, Fanfiction.Net will stop meddling with my reviews and I shall be able to review your story. Until then, I am left to curse my computer.

Ravid Wolfenstein: Thank you for adding me to your Fav Authors' List, because I'm flattered by such. Oh, never read a story of Rogue staying with Remy in New Orleans in my life. But I'm bound to come across one soon. I assure you though, this story is not going in that direction, though it may seem so.

Erica: Stop the madness! You, my friend, are beguiling me and my story! *laughs* But at least you're still reading...

Special Thanks to: Buffyangelus for adding me to your Fav Authors' List because... I like thanking you?! No really, because you're too kind. Really.