Pink and orange spotlights crisscross and flicker cutting up the movements of the dancers who flail and writhe to a beat she can feel vibrating in her chest, pounding along with her heart.
He stands motionless in the ocean of undulating bodies alternately doused in Fahrenheit's signature colors and darkness. She watches him scan the crowd.
He hasn't seen her yet.
She knows what will happen if she stays, if she lets him find her. She'll go to him and he'll come to her and she'll want him more than she already does and it will just be… bad.
She should really just go… just… stop this before it begins…
But it's already begun…
Before Irene had said a word she knew what the answer would be.
Yes.
That last page may be a mystery but there are some things she knows for certain.
She knows she wants to see him again.
She knows she wants him and that she can't blame that want on the absorption anymore. His memories are gone but hers keep replaying themselves in her head - The first time she saw him, a hand buried in Deborah's hair, the other skimming her backside, the second time at the bar, smoke spilling slowly and quietly from his mouth like a secret. The last time, his eyes burning into hers and the heat of his body as he stood too close and she let him…
She thinks of Irene's sketches, the one of the kiss, how desperately they had held onto each other.
She's afraid of wanting someone that much. Especially someone like him. A liar, a thief, a wolf. He is the last person anyone should give their trust, their heart to, and if she stays, if she lets herself fall into his eyes and his voice and his arms she'll do it. She'll do it because she won't be able to help herself. She has seen proof of it and it terrifies her, it makes her heart pound, makes it hurt.
And when it hurts she cannonballs.
A spotlight slides over her and she quickly steps back into the shadows, still watching him search the darkness, filled with a longing she hasn't felt since the night she watched Julia Bennett wave goodbye with tears in her eyes.
She wonders if it's always been like this in every future, in every reality - fear and desire so tangled up in each other she doesn't know which to obey.
Those other versions of herself… they had loved, they had been loved-
But none of it really happened. It wasn't really me kissin' Remy, holdin' onta him like my world would fall ta pieces if Ah let him go… Ah'm not brave enough ta love like that…
And he's not either. He doesn't believe in it anymore anyway - in love, in loving, in being loved. He believes in contact, in flesh, in sinking into someone and rocking against them until he forgets who he is. That's all he wants now, to forget and to feel, just for a moment, alive and electric and a part of somebody else. He doesn't care if it's not real. He doesn't want real. Real connection hurts and what comes after chewed him up and spit him out once before and like hell if he's going to be that vulnerable again. Better to just feel skin and nothing else…
She knows he believes it.
Then why are ya lookin' f'me?
She knows he is. She knows it like she knew he'd be here tonight. She feels it. And he feels her too. He knows she's here and he wants her to stay.
Ah can't give ya what ya want… ya know Ah can't Remy…
His brow furrows, he's turning a circle now, searching, searching like he senses she's about to make a decision they'll both regret. His mouth opens and promptly shuts. He doesn't have a name to call out. She can feel his frustration, his confusion, and it echoes her own. He understands even less of this than she does but he's not running away from it.
He's still looking.
He doesn't want to lose her.
And she doesn't want to be lost. It's why she reaches for Raven, it's why she came here tonight.
She wants to be found.
She wants him to be the one to do it.
She decides that she doesn't care if it hurts. She's used to pain. He is too.
She takes a deep breath and steps out of the shadows.
He turns his head, he sees her.
His lips part, her breath catches.
She feels his gaze enveloping her, calling to her from across the room just like the first time as an arc of pink light sweeps over him, bathing his face in a neon blush.
It bleeds into red and she moves. She goes to him.
She stops a breath away from touching. It's the closest she'll ever get and it hurts more than a fist, burns hotter than fire. He looks down at her, and she stares at her shoes.
"Hi."
"Hi."
She takes a deep breath, speaks to his chest.
"Ah'm gonna ask ya t'dance."
"I'm gon' say yes."
She doesn't move.
His hands slowly slip over her hips drawing her near and after a moment she rests hers lightly on his shoulders.
"What are ya doin' here?"
"Waitin' for you."
"All night?"
"Every night."
The heat of his hands sink through her shirt and she arches into him to get away from it, to get more of it. He loops an arm around her waist in answer, holding her even closer.
"You come here lookin' f'me?" She doesn't answer. She stares at his throat, at the thin silver chain glistening against his skin and disappearing under his shirt. "I know y'been tinkin' 'bout me a' leas'." He brings a gloved hand to her cheek and lazily strokes her jaw as he speaks. He wants her to look at him so badly...
"Is that right…" she whispers into his palm, still unable to do it.
"My shirt, chere… it smell like you… like magnolias an' sunlight…"
Soft worn leather slides against her skin and she realizes he's wearing his old gloves, the ones he'd given to her when she'd ruined hers. The ones she'd returned with the shirt.
He must've gone back to th'subway car after all…
She wonders if he saw the card crumpled up on the floor like trash.
"Did y'wear my shirt an tink o' me?" he whispers, "Cuz I hol' it an' tink o' you…"
His fingers slide into her hair and he tilts her head back oh so slowly…
He's done this before, this very same move.
She opens her eyes and stares right into his. They flicker, they burn.
"Why should Ah believe you?"
"You wan' touch me 'gain an' see?"
"Ah wanna touch you again and not see."
She turns her face away, tries to step back, but his other hand stays on her hip, not ready to let her go yet.
"Don' do it, chere… don' run 'way from me 'gain…"
She shakes her head as he comes closer, as he tries to draw her back into his arms.
This is so stupid… What did Ah think Ah was doin' comin' here, wantin' this when
"It's no good. Ah can't… we can't…"
"I don' care."
"Not ever…"
"I don' care."
"Stop sayin' that! Of course ya care! I know you-"
"No, you don'. If y'really knew me, y'wouldn' be here righ' now. Y'wouldn' be lookin' f'me. Y'wouldn' lemme hol' you… Mebbe you be scared a' me if you knew…" His hand falls to his side, releasing her. "I'm not a good man, chere."
"Ah'm not so great mahself, sugah."
"I killed a man."
"Ah killed two."
He blinks, frowns. "Wit y'power?"
"Yeah."
"Bit diff'rent, neh? After all y'couldn' help it."
"Maybe not th' first time but Ah knew exactly what Ah was doin' the second. Ah wanted him dead. Ah'm more of a killer than you are… You scared a' me?"
"I'm a lot o' tings 'bout you, chere… Ain' got no room t'be scared."
"Ya should be, Remy. Ya know what Ah can do an' ya know Ah can't control it. Ya know Ah can't give ya what ya want so why…"
He carefully places his hand back on her hip, silencing her. He steps in closer and she doesn't stop him, doesn't turn away. She never really wanted to in the first place.
His thumb lightly traces her lower lip and he whispers, "I can still feel you… Can you feel me?"
She thinks about his hands burning into her back through her shirt as they danced, his fingers warm through her sweater as he stopped her from going the first time they'd spoken.
She thinks of her green blouse, the one he'd told her in her mind that he liked, how she could feel every person that brushed up against her in the dark when she wore it that night…
"Pasiphae was a woman who desired something she could not possibly have, and yet she found a way to get it… I find that… inspirational."
Ah can feel you, Remy…
He searches her eyes, frowning slightly. She still hasn't answered
"D'y'even want to, chere?" He honestly doesn't know…
It makes her want him even more.
"Ah'm still here ain't Ah?" she breathes against his fingertips, her hand reaching up to catch his. He kisses her gloved knuckles as she leads him off the floor.
-/-
She locks the door behind them and leans against it, the metal cold against her back and completely at odds with her burning skin and the warm colors of the gauze panels hanging down from the ceiling behind him.
She watches him watch her, his dark eyes smoldering as they travel the length of her body.
He comes to her first this time, places his hands flat against the metal door on either side of her face.
"I'm gon' kiss you."
"Ah'm gonna let ya."
She slips out from under his arm as he moves to do it and slowly walks backwards to the other wall, keeping her eyes on his, asking him to follow.
She sinks into the gauze, the layers upon layers making it soft as a pillow against her back. She slides her hand between the folds, looks at it through the sheer material, and suddenly his hand is there too pressing against it, palm over palm.
He understands.
His nails lightly scratch down her fingers, her palm, as he curls his hand, fisting the gauze. He lifts it just high enough for her to step under, and it settles over her body, weightless, soft. She watches him through the pale pink veil, watches him come closer and she thinks of Cody like this, his face so close, his lips so close…
She feels herself start to panic…
And then the sudden slow crush of his mouth against hers stealing her breath making her dizzy and weak-kneed.
He lifts his head the tiniest bit, their lips just barely touching through the thin, almost nonexistent material, and whispers, "Is dis okay?" She tilts her chin up for more in answer and his arms wrap around her, cocooning her in the gauze, his body pressed so tightly against hers she can't move, she can't breathe. All she can do is feel his hands on her, his mouth, his-
She pulls back slightly breathing hard. He kisses her eyes, her ears, her neck, whispers, "don' ask me t'stop, please, chere, don' make me stop…"
"Remy…"
"Chere…"
"Y'vibratin'."
He stops, lifts his head.
"Dat's never happened b'fore…" She feels it again and bites her lip. He grins at her and pulls the cell phone out of his pocket.
She steps back to give him a moment and he quickly slips his free hand into the back pocket of her jeans, keeping their hips locked together. She laughs.
"Ah ain't goin' nowhere."
"Jus' makin' sure," he murmurs.
He flips open the phone, keeping his eyes on hers as he speaks into it. "Dis Remy… Righ' now? … Well, yeah, I do go' someting better t'do s'matter a fac…" He looks at her mouth, meets her eyes and she blushes. "You de boss-man…" He flips the phone shut.
"Ya hafta go."
"I don' want to. I'm 'fraid if I leave I never see you 'gain."
"Remy…"
"Tell me I'm gon' see you 'gain, chere. I don' wan dis t'be it."
She swallows. She doesn't either. She wants more.
Still, she can't bring herself to say it.
He leans forward, rests his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.
"I'm gon' be here tomorrow. An' de night after dat, an' de night after dat 'til you come back t'me."
He leans forward, kisses once more, slowly, deeply.
He opens his eyes. Flicker, burn.
And then he's gone.
She steps out from under the gauze her knees trembling violently beneath her, and leans against the counter for support. She looks at her reflection, her hair messy from his touches, her skin flushed and glowing with heat from his kisses.
He wants ta see me again…
She touches her mouth, smiles behind her fingers.
-/-
She goes back to her apartment and collapses on her mattress. Raven has given her her own room at the penthouse gorgeously decorated and furnished in different shades of green silk, complete with La Belle Dame Sans Merci hanging above the bed, but she hasn't slept there once. She goes there to relax after training sessions, to shower and change her clothes, but she doesn't really think of it as her room. She hasn't done anything to earn it, and since she's not technically in The Brotherhood she feels bad taking advantage of the perks that come with membership. It's why she took the train back to Brooklyn tonight instead of walking those few blocks to the penthouse.
She stares at the cracked wall. Red lights flicker across it with the wail of an ambulance speeding down the street below her window. She hates this place. It's small and cramped and noisy and empty and cold. She's holding onto it for Deborah more than anything else, and she knows it's stupid to still be hoping she'll turn up after all this time, but she's afraid if she does leave she will. Raven understands this and against her wishes has been paying half the rent knowing she can't afford to keep the apartment on her own.
She hates being indebted to anyone, but a part of her likes having Raven take care of her. It makes her feel safe.
She wonders if she should tell her about Remy.
But maybe she already knows. She must have seen the sketches in Irene's book…
What would Ah even say anyway? Ah'm torturing mahself with a womanizing Cajun mutant who's so good at lying an' pretendin' ta be what other people want he probably don't even know how he really feels about anythin' anymore let alone me…
She thinks he only wants her because he can't have her.
He came as close as he's ever going to get tonight and she wonders if he really is going to be at Fahrenheit tomorrow like he said. She wonders if she'll be there. She may need a few days to recover, her heart is still racing two hours later, her skin is still buzzing. She can still feel his kisses deep down in her belly and lower making her shiver like fever…
She sighs and rolls over onto her back.
Good luck gettin' any sleep t'night, girl.
Something sticks into the small of her back as she moves and she reaches a hand under herself to see what it is. Her fingers encounter something slick and slightly sharp-cornered stuck between her shirt and the waist of her jeans. She pulls it out.
A card.
Queen of Hearts again.
His phone number scrawled across it and the message, Can't say I ain't persistent.
She laughs.
The phone rings.
She glances at the alarm clock on the floor as she reaches for it. 4:03 a.m. blinks back at her and she frowns,
"Hello?"
"Rogue-"
"Irene? Is somethin' wrong?"
"Turn on your TV."