Title: The Blood of Roses
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Marvel. I simply do this for
fun and no $ is being made! I beg of you...don't sue me!
Rogue saw Joseph off that afternoon. He wore his brown leather jacket and dark
sunglasses. His silver hair was tied back into a long ponytail that ran in a sleek line down his
back. He looked really rather sexy. She watched him board the plane with Jean, wearing a navy
blue skirt and her hair in a messy french twist, Ororo in a pressed black pants suit and hair in a
glistening white braid, Scott, in his grey Dockers and black leather, and Hank, in his slate grey
suit. She gazed down at her stonewashed denim and red tank top and suddenly realized what a
fashionable group they were sending to Washington.
Joseph gave her one last kiss before leaving her at the gate. He hastily pressed his lips
against her own and ran to board the plane. A slight tingling danced across her lips and
throughout the small of her back where his hands had previously perched. She slipped her
tortoise shell sunglasses on, slowly turned and sauntered to the place where Logan would be
picking her up.
To her utter amazement, Logan's truck was not there. In its place was a black Harley,
sporting a smug Cajun in a trench coat.
"Logan got busy, Chere, so here Ah am. Hurry up!"
He tossed her an old helmet. Her old helmet. It was a deep shade of violet and had a
small print of a red rose at the temple. It had been a long time since she had put this on, but
either way she clasped it under her chin and hopped onto the back of the bike.
As they sped along, Rogue closed her eyes tightly and secured her grasp around Remy's
torso. She still found it very easy to cling to hm as they zoomed in and out of the traffic. He was
still as lean as he ever was, and it was comfortable, this place she had been so many times before.
The bike came to a halt in the gravel driveway, and Remy helped her dismount. He took
her helmet and put it back, to the same place he always stored it, and the two walked into the
building together.
Charles watched them from his bedroom window and a melancholy sign escaped his lips.
The uneasy felling in the pit of his stomach could, and should not be completely disregarded.
Summer had finally arrived full force in New York. The days were hot and the nights
were steamy. The sky was crystal clear that Friday night, each diamond star was visible,
scattered in the rich, blue velvet, dome. It was a perfect night to perch out on the deck and the
opportunity was not surpassed.
Jubilee sat sipping a glass of lemonade and jabbering on incessantly, yet Remy was kind
and simply smirked through her blabbering. Bobby was pointing out the many constellations to a
seemingly interested Rogue. Part of her was interested in the stars, the other part pitied his
hopeless infatuation with the young girl on the other side of the deck.
Someone had left the radio on in the kitchen and the smooth sound of Eric Clapton's
song, You Look Wonderful Tonight, came pouring out of the window.
"Care ta dance, Petit?"
Jubilee turned bright red as Remy rose from the table, and in one swift motion, pulled her
out of her seat and into his arms. Rogue caught a glimpse of the two and thought that they
slightly resembled a protective older brother and his silly little sister.
"Rogue?"
"Yeah?"
'Umm...wanna dance?"
"Sure, Sugah."
Bobby was slightly more inexperienced on the dance floor, and his feet were awkward,
but Rogue appreciated the offer. Yet she couldn't help but notice the constant glances he cast at
the other duo.
"Ya should ask the girl ta dance."
"Wha? No. She'd say no. I don't dance like he does. She's not interested."
She couldn't truly hold back her smile at the confused boy's babbling. It reminded her
too much of the boys she had known so long ago. Or had wanted to know. Either way, all he
needed was encouragement.
"Bobby, just do it."
Bobby wearily tapped Remy on the shoulder and politely asked if he could cut in on their
dance. Rogue stood beaming as Bobby took Jubilee in his arms and began to slowly sawy back
and forth.
"Wanna dance, Chere?"
She shot him a knowing look of disapproval, but accepted the offer and took his hand.
They moved slowly to the rhythm of the music and as she grew more comfortable she rested her
head on his chest. As she did so, he pulled her in closer and inhaled the sweet scent of her
perfume. Right then, it seemed as if she was made to be held in his arms. The perfect fit. Rogue
on the other hand buried herself in him and drowned her senses in the overwhelming warmth of
his body, and the powerful scent of his cologne, and the languid motions of his lean form.
A matter of time passed by before either individual realized the music had stopped,
Bobby and Jubes had already let and the rest of the mansion had went to bed.
Remy sat sipping his coffee and thinking about the previous night. He wouldn't allow
this to happen. It had become perfectly clear that she was in a relationship and was perfectly
content. He would not travel that road again. He would not make the same mistakes again. Just
then the telephone rang.
Rogue closed her eyes as the warm spray of water trickled down her back. She
consistently told herself that she would not repeat her errors. She would not allow herself to give
in to the same yearnings that had once governed her mind. Yet the vivid imagery of the night
before continued to slip into her mind. His musky scent and warm physique. Most tormenting
was the gentle but secure way he held her. Frustrated, she slammed the water off and stepped out
into the humid, foggy bathroom. After throwing on an old pair of jeans and a washed out baby
tee, she ran down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and one of Jean's left over banana
muffins.
"You interested, Petit?"
"Dinner would be great, and I would go, but Bobby asked me out yesterday...so I can't.
Sorry, Remy!" Jubilee called to the frustrated man as she exited the room.
Rogue entered just in time to see how upset the Cajun could be when he didn't get his
way.
"What's wrong, Sugah?"
"Ah got dinner reservations and tickets ta see a show tonight. Mah date called and
canceled, rescheduled fo' next week, so Ah spent all this money fo' nothing. Unless..." a small
smirk crept across Remy's face and a familiar glint appeared in his eye.
"Doncha gimme that look Swamp Rat. What do yo want?'
"Come wit' me. Just as friends, Chere. Ah don' wanna be out eh money. It'll be jus'
like the time Ah took 'Ro to the ballet."
She narrowed her emerald green eyes at him with a furious and annoyed expression, yet
could not hold back the small smile that had begun to surface.
"Ah'll pick ya up at seven, Chere."
"But Ah didn't even say 'yes' yet."
Indulging in his triumph, he turned, smirked and winked at her exasperated stance, and
exited the kitchen beaming.
He fixed himself up as nice as possible that evening. Granted they were going out
together as friends, same as if he was taking Ororo. But he put on his new Armani suit and payed
extra attention to details. He had ordered a dozen red roses for her as a kind gesture, he didn't
mean for it to come off as insanely romantic, or at least he didn't think he did. In a short while
he was pressed, clean and ready to pick her up.
Rogue went absolutely crazy trying to prepare for the evening. She left her hair down,
(naturally wavy, the way Remy had always liked it) except for a small diamond barrette that she
used to sweep back the hair over her left ear. She put on her new black dress. It was Carmen
Marc Valvo, sunburst pattern, with a halter top, and had a slit running from her toes to her mid
thighs in perfect symmetry with the deep v-neck. Joseph had bought it for her because he though
she would look amazing in it, and this was the first time she was going to wear it. It was the first
time she had anywhere to wear it. And his assumption was right, she did look amazing in it.
When Remy rapped on her door she took one final deep breath and opened it. He stood
there, looking as handsome as she had ever seen him, and she suddenly felt a little dizzy. In
return though, Remy lost his ability to breathe as he caught sight of her. She was ravishing, and
he quickly discovered that Joseph obviously didn't know what he had. No sane man would leave
this behind him.
"For you, mah Chere," he handed her the lush bouquet and took one step inside.
"Remy ya really shouldn' a done this. It ain't a date."
'Ah know. If it was a date Ah'd a brought diamonds. Flowers fo' friends. Jewelry fo'
lovers."
A frustrated smile spread across her face as she placed the red blossoms in water.
Offering her his elbow, he smirked and asked, "Shall we?"
They headed for the garage (since it was a rather dressy occasion, Remy decided to
"borrow" Scott's BMW) but not without many looks from the present inhabitants. It was very
true that they made a gorgeous couple, but it was also very true that Rogue was half of another
beautiful couple.
Their first stop was an amazing Italian restaurant that he had taken her to once before. It
was classic, like an old Cary Grant movie, and Rogue could remember taking a carriage ride
through Central Park shortly after their last visit. He like it because barely anyone knew about it.
It was his secret hide away, the place he took his women. And they always sat at the same corner
table, with a bottle of red wine, and split a tiramisu for desert. Rogue chuckled to herself and at
the situation, but part of her wished she was one of his girls, one of the many that would end the
night in his arms. The rest of her was ashamed at his emotion and shunned the thoughts
immediately. Yet she was oblivious to the fact that she was his girl, his one and only, she would
not fade in the early morning hours, like so many others.
After they completed their meal, the zipped to the Metropolitan Opera House. They
reached their seats, and with bated breath, Rogue absorbed the beauty of the building. It was not
as if she hadn't been there before, Joseph had taken her to see La Traviata only a short while
earlier, yet it seemed as if her eyes had opened with an entirely new perspective. The lights
dimmed and the curtain opened to reveal an elegant setting of cherry blossoms and of geishas,
Puccini's Madame Butterfly had begun. The story flew by quickly, and before Rogue had truly
absorbed all that was happening, Cio-Cio San lay dying as a desperate Pinkerton called her name,
and the tears were falling endlessly down her cheeks. Suddenly she felt Remy's warm, strong
hand encase her own, and she softly squeezed it between sobs.
As they exited the Opera House, Rogue was still whimpering, and Remy helped her get
into the car. He quickly got in next to her and turned the key in the ignition. Carefully, he leaned
over and tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks with is hands. She nuzzled into his chest and
felt his arm wrap around her and hold her securely to him as he drove with his other hand. They
rose in silence and a few tears still trickled soundlessly down her cheeks.
"Ya feelin' alright, Chere?"
"Yeah, Remy. Thank you. Ah had an amazin' time."
"A beaming smile spread across her face and she responded with a small smirk. A strand
of hair fell into her eyes, and he gently tucked it behind her ear, lingering for a mom ent and
letting his fingers graze her soft skin. Breaking eye contact, she turned and entered her room
slowly, as he pivoted and headed down the stairs.
Rogue began to undress, hung up her gown neatly and put on her nightdress. She brushed
her teeth, and washed her face as usual, but as she dried off her gazed dreamily at her reflection.
Her focus shifted to the roses he had given her, her favorite color. Red was for love, pink for
friendship, and white, white was for death. He knew that about her. Had taken the time and
memorized her strange mental and physical idiosyncracies. Then, eerily, as if in slow motion,
she made eye contact with the girl in the mirror and brought her fingers, cold from the tap water,
to her face, carefully grazing the area where, shortly before, Remy's hands had lingered. Quickly
removing her hand she reached out and shut off the light above the mirror, making the room
pitch dark and eliminating the view of her reflection.
Remy lay in bed, counting the bumps on his ceiling. He could not sleep. It was hot,
although he didn't quite understand why he was so uncomfortable, seeing as he was lying, sans
sheet and in his boxers. Frustrated and exasperated he flipped over, for the fortieth time that
evening, with a grunt. Bobby had visited twice to try and talk to him about Jubes, Remy had
figured that it meant his date had gone extraordinarily well or extraordinarily badly, but never
had the chance to find out since, both times he had slammed the door in his face before allowing
the boy to speak. For the third time that evening there was a rapping on his door.
Pissed beyond all doubt, Remy shot from his bed and tore the door open, growling,
"Bobby, Ah told ya that AH don' give a..." but his aggravation was cut short. It was not Bobby
at the door. Instead it was Rogue standing in his doorway, wearing her satin nightgown and
biting her lip. Their eyes locked and he fully comprehended her purpose. His emotions, still sky
rocketing from his irritation with Bobby and the heat, took another jolt seeing her there. She was
there because the same sensations that kept him counting flaws in the architecture had haunted
her as well. The time that had, a moment ago, seemed to tick by so slowly, was now zooming.
Heart pounding, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pressed his hot lips to her
own. He felt her response instantly, and soon her soft arms her linked around his neck as he
pulled her in closer. She slammed the door as they slid into the dark room.
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Marvel. I simply do this for
fun and no $ is being made! I beg of you...don't sue me!
Rogue saw Joseph off that afternoon. He wore his brown leather jacket and dark
sunglasses. His silver hair was tied back into a long ponytail that ran in a sleek line down his
back. He looked really rather sexy. She watched him board the plane with Jean, wearing a navy
blue skirt and her hair in a messy french twist, Ororo in a pressed black pants suit and hair in a
glistening white braid, Scott, in his grey Dockers and black leather, and Hank, in his slate grey
suit. She gazed down at her stonewashed denim and red tank top and suddenly realized what a
fashionable group they were sending to Washington.
Joseph gave her one last kiss before leaving her at the gate. He hastily pressed his lips
against her own and ran to board the plane. A slight tingling danced across her lips and
throughout the small of her back where his hands had previously perched. She slipped her
tortoise shell sunglasses on, slowly turned and sauntered to the place where Logan would be
picking her up.
To her utter amazement, Logan's truck was not there. In its place was a black Harley,
sporting a smug Cajun in a trench coat.
"Logan got busy, Chere, so here Ah am. Hurry up!"
He tossed her an old helmet. Her old helmet. It was a deep shade of violet and had a
small print of a red rose at the temple. It had been a long time since she had put this on, but
either way she clasped it under her chin and hopped onto the back of the bike.
As they sped along, Rogue closed her eyes tightly and secured her grasp around Remy's
torso. She still found it very easy to cling to hm as they zoomed in and out of the traffic. He was
still as lean as he ever was, and it was comfortable, this place she had been so many times before.
The bike came to a halt in the gravel driveway, and Remy helped her dismount. He took
her helmet and put it back, to the same place he always stored it, and the two walked into the
building together.
Charles watched them from his bedroom window and a melancholy sign escaped his lips.
The uneasy felling in the pit of his stomach could, and should not be completely disregarded.
Summer had finally arrived full force in New York. The days were hot and the nights
were steamy. The sky was crystal clear that Friday night, each diamond star was visible,
scattered in the rich, blue velvet, dome. It was a perfect night to perch out on the deck and the
opportunity was not surpassed.
Jubilee sat sipping a glass of lemonade and jabbering on incessantly, yet Remy was kind
and simply smirked through her blabbering. Bobby was pointing out the many constellations to a
seemingly interested Rogue. Part of her was interested in the stars, the other part pitied his
hopeless infatuation with the young girl on the other side of the deck.
Someone had left the radio on in the kitchen and the smooth sound of Eric Clapton's
song, You Look Wonderful Tonight, came pouring out of the window.
"Care ta dance, Petit?"
Jubilee turned bright red as Remy rose from the table, and in one swift motion, pulled her
out of her seat and into his arms. Rogue caught a glimpse of the two and thought that they
slightly resembled a protective older brother and his silly little sister.
"Rogue?"
"Yeah?"
'Umm...wanna dance?"
"Sure, Sugah."
Bobby was slightly more inexperienced on the dance floor, and his feet were awkward,
but Rogue appreciated the offer. Yet she couldn't help but notice the constant glances he cast at
the other duo.
"Ya should ask the girl ta dance."
"Wha? No. She'd say no. I don't dance like he does. She's not interested."
She couldn't truly hold back her smile at the confused boy's babbling. It reminded her
too much of the boys she had known so long ago. Or had wanted to know. Either way, all he
needed was encouragement.
"Bobby, just do it."
Bobby wearily tapped Remy on the shoulder and politely asked if he could cut in on their
dance. Rogue stood beaming as Bobby took Jubilee in his arms and began to slowly sawy back
and forth.
"Wanna dance, Chere?"
She shot him a knowing look of disapproval, but accepted the offer and took his hand.
They moved slowly to the rhythm of the music and as she grew more comfortable she rested her
head on his chest. As she did so, he pulled her in closer and inhaled the sweet scent of her
perfume. Right then, it seemed as if she was made to be held in his arms. The perfect fit. Rogue
on the other hand buried herself in him and drowned her senses in the overwhelming warmth of
his body, and the powerful scent of his cologne, and the languid motions of his lean form.
A matter of time passed by before either individual realized the music had stopped,
Bobby and Jubes had already let and the rest of the mansion had went to bed.
Remy sat sipping his coffee and thinking about the previous night. He wouldn't allow
this to happen. It had become perfectly clear that she was in a relationship and was perfectly
content. He would not travel that road again. He would not make the same mistakes again. Just
then the telephone rang.
Rogue closed her eyes as the warm spray of water trickled down her back. She
consistently told herself that she would not repeat her errors. She would not allow herself to give
in to the same yearnings that had once governed her mind. Yet the vivid imagery of the night
before continued to slip into her mind. His musky scent and warm physique. Most tormenting
was the gentle but secure way he held her. Frustrated, she slammed the water off and stepped out
into the humid, foggy bathroom. After throwing on an old pair of jeans and a washed out baby
tee, she ran down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and one of Jean's left over banana
muffins.
"You interested, Petit?"
"Dinner would be great, and I would go, but Bobby asked me out yesterday...so I can't.
Sorry, Remy!" Jubilee called to the frustrated man as she exited the room.
Rogue entered just in time to see how upset the Cajun could be when he didn't get his
way.
"What's wrong, Sugah?"
"Ah got dinner reservations and tickets ta see a show tonight. Mah date called and
canceled, rescheduled fo' next week, so Ah spent all this money fo' nothing. Unless..." a small
smirk crept across Remy's face and a familiar glint appeared in his eye.
"Doncha gimme that look Swamp Rat. What do yo want?'
"Come wit' me. Just as friends, Chere. Ah don' wanna be out eh money. It'll be jus'
like the time Ah took 'Ro to the ballet."
She narrowed her emerald green eyes at him with a furious and annoyed expression, yet
could not hold back the small smile that had begun to surface.
"Ah'll pick ya up at seven, Chere."
"But Ah didn't even say 'yes' yet."
Indulging in his triumph, he turned, smirked and winked at her exasperated stance, and
exited the kitchen beaming.
He fixed himself up as nice as possible that evening. Granted they were going out
together as friends, same as if he was taking Ororo. But he put on his new Armani suit and payed
extra attention to details. He had ordered a dozen red roses for her as a kind gesture, he didn't
mean for it to come off as insanely romantic, or at least he didn't think he did. In a short while
he was pressed, clean and ready to pick her up.
Rogue went absolutely crazy trying to prepare for the evening. She left her hair down,
(naturally wavy, the way Remy had always liked it) except for a small diamond barrette that she
used to sweep back the hair over her left ear. She put on her new black dress. It was Carmen
Marc Valvo, sunburst pattern, with a halter top, and had a slit running from her toes to her mid
thighs in perfect symmetry with the deep v-neck. Joseph had bought it for her because he though
she would look amazing in it, and this was the first time she was going to wear it. It was the first
time she had anywhere to wear it. And his assumption was right, she did look amazing in it.
When Remy rapped on her door she took one final deep breath and opened it. He stood
there, looking as handsome as she had ever seen him, and she suddenly felt a little dizzy. In
return though, Remy lost his ability to breathe as he caught sight of her. She was ravishing, and
he quickly discovered that Joseph obviously didn't know what he had. No sane man would leave
this behind him.
"For you, mah Chere," he handed her the lush bouquet and took one step inside.
"Remy ya really shouldn' a done this. It ain't a date."
'Ah know. If it was a date Ah'd a brought diamonds. Flowers fo' friends. Jewelry fo'
lovers."
A frustrated smile spread across her face as she placed the red blossoms in water.
Offering her his elbow, he smirked and asked, "Shall we?"
They headed for the garage (since it was a rather dressy occasion, Remy decided to
"borrow" Scott's BMW) but not without many looks from the present inhabitants. It was very
true that they made a gorgeous couple, but it was also very true that Rogue was half of another
beautiful couple.
Their first stop was an amazing Italian restaurant that he had taken her to once before. It
was classic, like an old Cary Grant movie, and Rogue could remember taking a carriage ride
through Central Park shortly after their last visit. He like it because barely anyone knew about it.
It was his secret hide away, the place he took his women. And they always sat at the same corner
table, with a bottle of red wine, and split a tiramisu for desert. Rogue chuckled to herself and at
the situation, but part of her wished she was one of his girls, one of the many that would end the
night in his arms. The rest of her was ashamed at his emotion and shunned the thoughts
immediately. Yet she was oblivious to the fact that she was his girl, his one and only, she would
not fade in the early morning hours, like so many others.
After they completed their meal, the zipped to the Metropolitan Opera House. They
reached their seats, and with bated breath, Rogue absorbed the beauty of the building. It was not
as if she hadn't been there before, Joseph had taken her to see La Traviata only a short while
earlier, yet it seemed as if her eyes had opened with an entirely new perspective. The lights
dimmed and the curtain opened to reveal an elegant setting of cherry blossoms and of geishas,
Puccini's Madame Butterfly had begun. The story flew by quickly, and before Rogue had truly
absorbed all that was happening, Cio-Cio San lay dying as a desperate Pinkerton called her name,
and the tears were falling endlessly down her cheeks. Suddenly she felt Remy's warm, strong
hand encase her own, and she softly squeezed it between sobs.
As they exited the Opera House, Rogue was still whimpering, and Remy helped her get
into the car. He quickly got in next to her and turned the key in the ignition. Carefully, he leaned
over and tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks with is hands. She nuzzled into his chest and
felt his arm wrap around her and hold her securely to him as he drove with his other hand. They
rose in silence and a few tears still trickled soundlessly down her cheeks.
"Ya feelin' alright, Chere?"
"Yeah, Remy. Thank you. Ah had an amazin' time."
"A beaming smile spread across her face and she responded with a small smirk. A strand
of hair fell into her eyes, and he gently tucked it behind her ear, lingering for a mom ent and
letting his fingers graze her soft skin. Breaking eye contact, she turned and entered her room
slowly, as he pivoted and headed down the stairs.
Rogue began to undress, hung up her gown neatly and put on her nightdress. She brushed
her teeth, and washed her face as usual, but as she dried off her gazed dreamily at her reflection.
Her focus shifted to the roses he had given her, her favorite color. Red was for love, pink for
friendship, and white, white was for death. He knew that about her. Had taken the time and
memorized her strange mental and physical idiosyncracies. Then, eerily, as if in slow motion,
she made eye contact with the girl in the mirror and brought her fingers, cold from the tap water,
to her face, carefully grazing the area where, shortly before, Remy's hands had lingered. Quickly
removing her hand she reached out and shut off the light above the mirror, making the room
pitch dark and eliminating the view of her reflection.
Remy lay in bed, counting the bumps on his ceiling. He could not sleep. It was hot,
although he didn't quite understand why he was so uncomfortable, seeing as he was lying, sans
sheet and in his boxers. Frustrated and exasperated he flipped over, for the fortieth time that
evening, with a grunt. Bobby had visited twice to try and talk to him about Jubes, Remy had
figured that it meant his date had gone extraordinarily well or extraordinarily badly, but never
had the chance to find out since, both times he had slammed the door in his face before allowing
the boy to speak. For the third time that evening there was a rapping on his door.
Pissed beyond all doubt, Remy shot from his bed and tore the door open, growling,
"Bobby, Ah told ya that AH don' give a..." but his aggravation was cut short. It was not Bobby
at the door. Instead it was Rogue standing in his doorway, wearing her satin nightgown and
biting her lip. Their eyes locked and he fully comprehended her purpose. His emotions, still sky
rocketing from his irritation with Bobby and the heat, took another jolt seeing her there. She was
there because the same sensations that kept him counting flaws in the architecture had haunted
her as well. The time that had, a moment ago, seemed to tick by so slowly, was now zooming.
Heart pounding, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pressed his hot lips to her
own. He felt her response instantly, and soon her soft arms her linked around his neck as he
pulled her in closer. She slammed the door as they slid into the dark room.