Chapter 5 - Where the Blues Go
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Author's Note: Cranking up the angst here, because a regular day is just too ordinary. Part of this is a self-deprecating joke, because we ran out of propane a few days ago and nearly froze in our own house. I was in the shower at the time, and it was cold.
Random silly team moment chucked in at the end. Because I need a little light-heartedness. Most of the heartache is based on my own experience (not that I've had that much experience. I've never been loved).
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Rogue's Observations - "Playin' Trivial Pursuit with Hank is waste of time. Period."
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It was like his blood was ice water, or just ice itself. It stung whenever he moved, and about a hundred cold-related diseases came to mind. Pneumonia, hypothermia, frostbite, the list went on and on. Painfully raising his hand to try to help open his eyes, he rued the day he'd ever laid eyes on her.
Damn. His eyelashes had frozen together and he couldn't feel his fingers. He scratched at his eyes to help open them. All around him, a normally pristine beauty was just another reminder that his hope was slim. The expanse was as endless as his chances were small.
Spitting out blood from the cuts on his chapped lips, he dared one last time to look up. Nothing but white, white, horrible white. If he ever got home, he'd never wear white again.
If he ever got home again, he'd take a nice, long, hot shower. But home wasn't here, because nothing lived here. Tears had frozen raw tracks on his face long ago. There weren't any left, just that small sliver of hope, and endless, endless white.
He hated her! She was why he was here, knowing that he was freezing to death and being unable to stop it. A slow, horribly obvious death. It was all her fault!
It was so cold. It was so, so cold. Lying down in the snow, he spit out more blood and promised himself not to fall asleep, though he knew he didn't have the will to care anymore. He could just relax a little. Just a little, and then that awful cold would all end.
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Fourth time in a week. Remy woke up shivering, grabbing frantically for the blanket he'd kicked off. Once he had piled at least three more on top of himself, he tried to remember exactly what he'd dreamt about.
Antarctica was over. They'd gotten over it years ago. They said 'no regrets' and moved on. And she loved him and it was an innocent mistake.
Even while he mentally repeated that to himself, he couldn't help the fear and the anger clamping around his chest like a vice.
"Rogue?" Poking his head out of his mound of covers, he cast a glance over at the other bed. Sometime during the night, she'd snuck back into the room. "Rogue?"
"Mmm?" It must have either been early at night or late in the morning, because she wasn't totally asleep. She rolled over to face him, drunken with sleep. "Whah?
He needed to hear it. The recurring memories had gone far enough. He needed her to reassure him. "Rogue, do you love me?"
Normally, the fact that he'd even said that would set off alarm bells for her. But it was dark, and she was tired, and whatever made him happy. "O' course Ah do." She closed her eyes, hoping he would just let her get some rest.
"How much, Rogue? How much?" He pulled another cover on top of himself.
"Mmmm." She rolled back over. "Unconditionally."
After a while, her breathing slowed and became deep. Remy stared at the ceiling, neurotically burrowing himself even further beneath his small mountain of blankets. He still couldn't stop shivering.
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"Lorna?" Bobby blinked several times at the bright light piercing his eyes. Stupid sun. "Lorna, you can let go of my neck now."
His little green-haired gal had wrapped her arms around him during her sleep. Now, with her clinging to him, he couldn't move. Carefully, he removed her hand from the space between his shoulders. She protested slightly, still asleep. Softly, he brushed a strand of forest green from her cheek. "Lorna, wakey wakey."
"I'm awake." She said groggily. Bobby got up and started off. Lorna eyed him nervously, suddenly possessive. "Where are you going?"
"Shower." He said simply.
Lorna sat up, satisfied with his answer. She yawned. "Leave me some hot water, will you?"
"You know I only take cold showers." He said almost perkily. He'd had such a nice dream.
She nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then." She blew him a kiss. He grinned. Today was looking up.
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Today had been looking up for Bobby and Bobby alone, because something had happened to the pilot light. Everyone else looked murderous. Hank and Kurt were by far the worst off, since they had both been halfway through shampooing their fur when the heat had gone out.
Jean had been lucky. She'd taken an early shower and had decided to cook. Rogue, too, had come down to make breakfast, but that was only after her scream of "Who the hell flushed the toilet?!" had echoed throughout the entire mansion.
A shirtless Kurt came down next, still wiping suds of soap off of his wet coat. Bellbottoms trailed at his heels, pleading for food and licking bubbles off his ankle.
"Breakfast, oh brother mine?" Rogue asked with forced perkiness. She wanted to snap at him for something, but just because her day had started bad didn't mean everyone else had to suffer.
"Was ist?" Kurt grabbed a cup and started up the coffee machine.
"Sausage, hash and eggs. What would you like?" Jean asked with cheerleader-like enthusiasm. Rogue figured that all those poker nights serving drinks had finally addled her brain.
Rogue eyed the coffee machine. "Kurt, can you make me one of them mochas you do so nicely?"
"Ja, mein schwester. Two packs of sugar, right?" Kurt, with the use of his tail, was very efficient at getting beverages ready. "And a hot chocolate for Jean, ja? Because she doesn't like caffeine?"
Jean nodded and set the table as Lorna came in, glaring sourly at the floor as she fed the cat. Kurt made a mental note to get Lorna a latte.
Remy looked frazzled, though that might have been because he'd jumped out of the shower and tripped over a laundry basket. When he sat down to read the Dilbert comic, Rogue nudged him rather hard in the shoulder. "You're gonna work like the rest of us, sugah. You're on litterbox duty."
Remy groaned; Rogue glared. "Or you can go figure out what wrong with the showers, if you want."
Remy obliged. Bobby and Scott came in, Bobby chipper and Scott brooding. Surprising everyone, Bobby suddenly grabbed Lorna and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. Though shocked, she started to giggle, being cheered up more than a latte ever could. Bobby's grin could have lit up half of New York.
"To a new us?" He whispered into her hair so only she could hear. She nodded and smiled.
For now, there was no silence. Lorna was happy that he had come back, happy that he wanted her back, and happy that he was being affectionate in a way Alex never had. She was surprised to realize she liked it that way, the little jokes and the playful, light-heartedness of it. For Bobby, he just wanted to be her Romeo for a while, no matter if it was forced or not.
"Well, if the two lovebirds can stop actin' like we're in high school, Ah think we can eat." Rogue growled at them. They took the hint and sat down at the table. Rogue looked around. "Where's Hank?"
Remy called out to them. "Shower's workin' again!" He sauntered into the room, fairly pleased with himself.
Rogue grumbled something about Hank having to do the catbox and took a seat. Jean could serve. She seemed eager to do it.
Sure enough, Jean did flit around like some chattering bird, serving and chatting at the same time. Hank thumped down the stairs and looked a bit disappointed that he had to "eliminate the feline's excrements".
"And just after my bathing, too!" He added.
Bobby poked at his hash. "Ummm.Rogue, what is this?"
In response, Rogue cracked her knuckles. Bobby wolfed the hash down.
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"Hey, Jean?" Scott opened the door to see her lying on the couch, investigating a Nora Roberts novel and a small bowl of caramels. "Hey, do you want to go shopping later today? The kids need some food."
Jean lolled and stretched. "You, shopping?"
Scott didn't admit that he was feeling like he was getting paranoid. "Can't a husband spend some time with his wife?"
"Yes, but shopping? You never shop." Jean sat up and laid the book carefully on the table, making sure not to hurt its spine.
"Yeah, I know. Do you want to come?" Inside, he prayed that she said yes. He needed to get out of this house. He needed to stop feeling like she was tricking him, somehow.
Jean looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. "Sure, hon. As long as it's not Home Depot or anything."
Scott smiled too. He was going to spend time with his beloved Jean, and she was going to spend time with him. Alone. Without everyone else.
Jean nudged him playfully, suddenly the one calling the shots. "C'mon, but no hardware stores. You're the only man I know who can spend three hours looking at kinds of boxes."
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While Rogue and Lorna had herded students out of the mansion to go play in the snow, some of the men were taking the time off. Kurt was hanging from the chandelier, watching Errol Flynn movies and nibbling on the remains of breakfast. Bobby had joined him halfway through, though he was mainly interested in the popcorn that he'd made. Hank read the New England Journal of Medicine, and Remy was looking over with great intent what appeared to be an encyclopedia.
Bobby, who felt certain that he'd made amends with his girl, was making every attempt to infuriate the other, not so lucky men. "So, Kurt, the Scarlet Bitch didn't call back?" He asked, grinning ear to ear.
Kurt would not allow Bobby's teasing to ruin his good mood. "No, Bobby, Wanda did not call back."
"Well, it aint like German's de most romantic of languages." Remy said simply from the armchair in the corner.
"Oh, and French is?" Kurt replied, equally absentmindedly.
Hank had to intrude upon their conversation. "Actually, French is one of the Romance languages."
"So dere!" The Cajun playfully stuck his tongue out at the German.
"Ach, Rogue's really going to believe you are reading the encyclopedia upside down, Herr LeBeau."
Hank muttered "Checkmate", and Remy's face turned red as he flipped the book over.
"So what exactly are you reading?" Bobby went over and peered over his shoulder. "Holy shit! Look at her rack!"
Remy's face flushed even more furiously. Bobby sent him a look that was between admiration and pity, like looking upon a hero about to die. "Oh man, Rogue's gonna kill you when she finds you reading the Victoria's Secret catalogue!"
"I'm just shoppin' for her."
Bobby burst into laughter. Kurt shushed him, but chuckled under his breath. Hank snorted into his magazine.
Bobby slapped the end of the armchair. "Victoria's Secret for Rogue?! Man, you are so bad!" Remy raised his eyebrows comically, sending Bobby into uncontrollable hiccups. Kurt and Hank laughed too, and the former circus performer flung part of a leftover sausage at the young man.
"Hey guys, you mind tellin' me what's so funny?" A certain white- striped belle was framed in the doorway. Remy quickly shut the book. The rest stopped laughing, but looked at her innocently. "No? Well, Remy, you wanna come for a walk then? Ah'm going to pick up the mail."
Remy groaned. "Rogue, you know Remy hates-"
"But you never go outside in the winter! You've been holed up in here for a month!"
"Yeah, but-"
"Fine! You want to waste your time in here, that's fine with me. Ah'm sure Kurt doesn't have a problem with a bit of snow. Right?" Rogue turned her attention quickly, purposefully avoiding eye contact with her lover.
"Ja, if you want." Kurt swung down and somersaulted in a flashy manner. Rogue gave a wry smile.
If it were possible, Remy would have sunk so deep into the armchair that he'd never be able to come out.
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Hank was, for the third time that day, cleaning up his bathroom. He'd washed his hands after a particularly nasty experiment, and now the sink was clogged with azure fur. And of course, cleaning the sink meant getting to work on the rest of the room.
While Bellbottoms snuck about and played with the cuffs of his jeans, Hank was busy scrubbing the toilet, cleaning the mirror and re-hanging the shower curtains. He was surprised when Lorna came in, cheeks red, snowflakes caught in her hair. She was beaming.
He looked up at her. "Does this young woman need any assistance with anything?"
"Yeah. Hank, have you seen the hose?"
"The garden shed." He replied simply. "What do you intend to use it for?"
Lorna grinned wickedly. "I'm gonna spray Bobby. He took snowballs a bit too far." Just as she was about to leave, she turned. "Do you need help with that shower curtain?"
No, he didn't, but cleaning the bathroom all alone was no fun. "If you would oblige to aid me."
Today, despite a rough start, was looking as up as the now-hung curtain.
"So, you and Bobby have made amends?"
Lorna nodded, the idea of the garden hose entirely out of her mind. "Yeah. But he seems...a bit different. Like he was waiting for me to admit I've been a bitch."
Hank nodded. He honestly didn't know. He'd only been in love once, with that beautiful news reporter, and she'd never waited on anything from him. He'd been a pit-stop in her life, somewhere off in Arizona, maybe. Enjoyable, but temporary. And then off to God knows where, with postcards.
"That sounds really insane, doesn't it? I mean, like a really bad movie where all they do is bitch about how sad they are or simper about how much they love one another?" She said, sitting on the toilet seat, picking at the stray threads in her scarf.
Hank turned to her, bulky mass belying his grace. The curtain waved slightly. "But you're happy, right?"
"Yes! I mean, I guess." If Hank hadn't seen it before, in the faces of Jean, and of Rogue, and Scott, and Remy and Kurt, he would have been puzzled by the expression in her eyes. But he had seen it before, probably in his own eyes after Trish's pit-stop in Arizona.
Sifting through the ashes looking for embers was just as hard as putting them out. Lorna still ached for Alex, still loved him. And Bobby loved her, but sometimes love wasn't enough to make everything better.
Lorna needed time to heal. She wanted to please Bobby, and he wanted to please her, and in the end they were both forcing it so they could both believe it. They needed some time.
When Lorna left, Hank sat down on the couch where the Discovery Channel was giving a documentary on premature child birth. Bellbottoms sat in his lap, vaguely interested by the squealing babies on the screen. The sound of Bobby's yelps as he was hit by freezing water emanated from outside.
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Kurt always was easier to talk to. He never ridiculed, never insulted, just listened and sometimes offered advice. Not the cheap, three dollar advice like "You need some time" and "Just talk it over", but the real, deep advice that actually made a difference. Because sometimes time was a fickle doctor and sometimes talk was the enemy.
"He never goes outside in the winter anymore." Rogue said solemnly, kicking a rock in front of her. "It's like he's afraid of it."
Kurt breathed out, eyes tracing the steam as it swirled away. "He has good reason to."
"But he's takin' it to a whole new level! He'll sleep with at least four blankets on, and it's just crazy, watchin' him stare out the window and knowing he's too damn afraid to go out. Ah thought we were over Antarctica years ago."
"Rogue, I don't think it has anything to do with whether you two are over it or not." Kurt buried his hands deeper in his pockets.
"What're you sayin'? That Ah scarred him for life?" She irately kicked the mailbox post, then walked past it.
"I thought we were just going to get the mail." He asked quietly.
"Just a bit further. Ah want to show you somethin'." The sounds of Bobby and Lorna pelting each other with snowballs rang throughout the air. Rogue walked on, grey coat blended in with the trees and the shadows, white streak lost in the blinding light of the snow. Kurt followed, his dark skin contrast against the brilliance. It was as if he was sucking the light out of the space he occupied. "All this time, and Ah keep thinkin' he's just like a cancer patient. Somethin's wrong and Ah can't stop it."
"It must bring back unpleasant memories, the cold." Kurt looked up, where the sky was a mirror of grey and white.
"Ah know that, but it's just crazy. He's missin' so much. Like this." Rogue grabbed her brother's sleeve and dragged him off the path, through trees and snow as deep as his ankles.
Kurt complained playfully. "Mein schwester, I find nothing spectacular about getting my pants soaked."
"No, this!" She pulled him out into a clearing. A small creek, half- frozen, trickled through the middle. The sun beat down through a small part in the clouds, in between the trees and onto them. For all the world to have, there were diamonds in the snow, catching the light and sending it back. "Kurt, isn't it beautiful?"
Kurt looked around in wonder. Maybe it was his sister's enthusiasm that made it so heavenly, but most likely it was the place itself. He felt guilty, messing up the snow with his big clunky feet. "Ja, it's beautiful." He said, eyes wide as a small bird fluttered away from the branch above him.
"And he's never gonna see it, because by summer it's a big puddle of mud!" Rogue said suddenly, startling the birds.
Kurt looked at her, at the tears that bit the corners of her eyes. He couldn't tell her it wasn't her fault, because it partially was, nor could he tell her that it would fade with time, because he wasn't sure of that. "He's not sick, Rogue. Winter's just a bad time for him." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't necessarily truth.
"Ah know, but why the hell won't he even try?" Rogue swayed a little, biting her lip.
Kurt had no words for this. It was probably better that way. Rogue leaned onto his shoulder.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm rather cold out here." Kurt said softly. Rogue looked up at him. Without another word, they left the clearing.
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Xavier had probably had some strange idea when he said that they should have a game night every week. Maybe he thought of it as a bonding exercise.
As it was, the rules were very lenient. Every time a different game, no cheating, everyone participated. Tonight, the game of choice was Scrabble. Everyone groaned when Kurt brought in the box and glared pointedly at Hank.
"What, can I help it if I excel in the lingual arts?" He smirked, setting up the board.
"Fine, but we get to be in teams of two against you. Kurt already said he wasn't playin', but can you keep score, sugah?" Rogue beckoned to her foster brother. He nodded.
Remy pulled Rogue's chair out for her. "Remy has his partner, right, chere?"
Rogue smiled. Scott teamed up with his wife and Lorna and Bobby became the other group. Lorna laid down the rules. "You," She pointed to Remy "No French. Anything we can't find in the English dictionary doesn't count. Other than that, regular rules. No using double and triple scores twice, and if you add onto a word it counts for the whole thing."
Scott and Jean were to go first, laying down the word SALAD. Both looked fairly pleased, and Bobby reassured himself that it was only luck.
Hank's 'only luck' gave him the word CATALYST as his opener. From that point on, the game became very lopsided. Hank had words like BELEMNOID and ASPARTAME. Bobby and Lorna's greatest success was PUP.
Tempers started heating up halfway through, when the score was a nice one-forty-three to twelve, fourteen and twenty-one.
It was quickly proved that Remy's lack of education expanded further than basic grammar. He did, however, have an eye for putting letters together.
"Ha! Bourgeois!" He yelled as he arranged the letters, nice and neat, in their little boxes.
"That's not fair! That's not an English word!" Lorna exclaimed. Not that it really mattered, since she and Bobby were at rock-bottom anyway.
Rogue grabbed the Merriam-Webster's Dictionary. "Look, right here!"
"Damn." There it was for Lorna, in plain letters. Bourgeois, noun. Street rabble. French derivative.
Hank tried to keep from bursting into triumphant laughter. "May I expand upon that word?"
Bourgeoisie. Plural form of bourgeois. Kurt chalked up further points for Hank.
"Dat's it, Remy's no good at word games." Remy stood and stalked out of the room. Rogue looked as if to follow him, but realized it would be futile.
Bobby yawned. "Isn't that how these games always end? Someone gets mad and leaves the table?"
Lorna threw her letters in. "If I remember correctly, that was you last time when we played Risk and Kurt stormed Ukraine."
"Yeah, well, I had about three men left anyway. And he had thirty- four." Bobby defended himself.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "That was only after you started making your soldiers walk across the board singin'." She picked up the letter T and started walking it across the table, voice suddenly high-pitched. "All worship Lord Bobby! He is our king! Wheeee!"
It was a surprisingly good imitation, and everyone but Bobby laughed. "You just don't appreciate good humor."
"Hank wins." Kurt said simply. He flipped the chalk between his tail and hands. Hank took a bow while everyone clapped half-heartedly and threw their letters into the box.
They all went that separate ways for the night, Lorna and Bobby heading for one room, Scott and Jean for another, Hank back to the lab, Kurt to his room and Rogue to hers.
"I swear, Hank, you practically live in the lab." Jean had said playfully, leaning into Scott. Then, she was curled deep inside the covers, body warm against her husband's. He smelled the tropical shampoo she had used that morning. He never told her about how that shampoo reeked, but what the hell. She could have her special shampoos.
Rogue came into her room, and was met with the pleasant surprise of Remy crashed out on the bed with only one blanket. He looked an awkward sight, with his feet a bit over the edge and his face buried into a pillow. Softly, she slunk into her own bed and shut off the light.
Down the hall, Kurt was sitting at the edge of his bed, reading an old pirate novel. Further down, Hank was busy working on decoding the genome of a bacteria. Lorna and Bobby were sleeping soundly, one on the couch and one on the small bed.
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Author's Note: Cranking up the angst here, because a regular day is just too ordinary. Part of this is a self-deprecating joke, because we ran out of propane a few days ago and nearly froze in our own house. I was in the shower at the time, and it was cold.
Random silly team moment chucked in at the end. Because I need a little light-heartedness. Most of the heartache is based on my own experience (not that I've had that much experience. I've never been loved).
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Rogue's Observations - "Playin' Trivial Pursuit with Hank is waste of time. Period."
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It was like his blood was ice water, or just ice itself. It stung whenever he moved, and about a hundred cold-related diseases came to mind. Pneumonia, hypothermia, frostbite, the list went on and on. Painfully raising his hand to try to help open his eyes, he rued the day he'd ever laid eyes on her.
Damn. His eyelashes had frozen together and he couldn't feel his fingers. He scratched at his eyes to help open them. All around him, a normally pristine beauty was just another reminder that his hope was slim. The expanse was as endless as his chances were small.
Spitting out blood from the cuts on his chapped lips, he dared one last time to look up. Nothing but white, white, horrible white. If he ever got home, he'd never wear white again.
If he ever got home again, he'd take a nice, long, hot shower. But home wasn't here, because nothing lived here. Tears had frozen raw tracks on his face long ago. There weren't any left, just that small sliver of hope, and endless, endless white.
He hated her! She was why he was here, knowing that he was freezing to death and being unable to stop it. A slow, horribly obvious death. It was all her fault!
It was so cold. It was so, so cold. Lying down in the snow, he spit out more blood and promised himself not to fall asleep, though he knew he didn't have the will to care anymore. He could just relax a little. Just a little, and then that awful cold would all end.
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Fourth time in a week. Remy woke up shivering, grabbing frantically for the blanket he'd kicked off. Once he had piled at least three more on top of himself, he tried to remember exactly what he'd dreamt about.
Antarctica was over. They'd gotten over it years ago. They said 'no regrets' and moved on. And she loved him and it was an innocent mistake.
Even while he mentally repeated that to himself, he couldn't help the fear and the anger clamping around his chest like a vice.
"Rogue?" Poking his head out of his mound of covers, he cast a glance over at the other bed. Sometime during the night, she'd snuck back into the room. "Rogue?"
"Mmm?" It must have either been early at night or late in the morning, because she wasn't totally asleep. She rolled over to face him, drunken with sleep. "Whah?
He needed to hear it. The recurring memories had gone far enough. He needed her to reassure him. "Rogue, do you love me?"
Normally, the fact that he'd even said that would set off alarm bells for her. But it was dark, and she was tired, and whatever made him happy. "O' course Ah do." She closed her eyes, hoping he would just let her get some rest.
"How much, Rogue? How much?" He pulled another cover on top of himself.
"Mmmm." She rolled back over. "Unconditionally."
After a while, her breathing slowed and became deep. Remy stared at the ceiling, neurotically burrowing himself even further beneath his small mountain of blankets. He still couldn't stop shivering.
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"Lorna?" Bobby blinked several times at the bright light piercing his eyes. Stupid sun. "Lorna, you can let go of my neck now."
His little green-haired gal had wrapped her arms around him during her sleep. Now, with her clinging to him, he couldn't move. Carefully, he removed her hand from the space between his shoulders. She protested slightly, still asleep. Softly, he brushed a strand of forest green from her cheek. "Lorna, wakey wakey."
"I'm awake." She said groggily. Bobby got up and started off. Lorna eyed him nervously, suddenly possessive. "Where are you going?"
"Shower." He said simply.
Lorna sat up, satisfied with his answer. She yawned. "Leave me some hot water, will you?"
"You know I only take cold showers." He said almost perkily. He'd had such a nice dream.
She nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then." She blew him a kiss. He grinned. Today was looking up.
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Today had been looking up for Bobby and Bobby alone, because something had happened to the pilot light. Everyone else looked murderous. Hank and Kurt were by far the worst off, since they had both been halfway through shampooing their fur when the heat had gone out.
Jean had been lucky. She'd taken an early shower and had decided to cook. Rogue, too, had come down to make breakfast, but that was only after her scream of "Who the hell flushed the toilet?!" had echoed throughout the entire mansion.
A shirtless Kurt came down next, still wiping suds of soap off of his wet coat. Bellbottoms trailed at his heels, pleading for food and licking bubbles off his ankle.
"Breakfast, oh brother mine?" Rogue asked with forced perkiness. She wanted to snap at him for something, but just because her day had started bad didn't mean everyone else had to suffer.
"Was ist?" Kurt grabbed a cup and started up the coffee machine.
"Sausage, hash and eggs. What would you like?" Jean asked with cheerleader-like enthusiasm. Rogue figured that all those poker nights serving drinks had finally addled her brain.
Rogue eyed the coffee machine. "Kurt, can you make me one of them mochas you do so nicely?"
"Ja, mein schwester. Two packs of sugar, right?" Kurt, with the use of his tail, was very efficient at getting beverages ready. "And a hot chocolate for Jean, ja? Because she doesn't like caffeine?"
Jean nodded and set the table as Lorna came in, glaring sourly at the floor as she fed the cat. Kurt made a mental note to get Lorna a latte.
Remy looked frazzled, though that might have been because he'd jumped out of the shower and tripped over a laundry basket. When he sat down to read the Dilbert comic, Rogue nudged him rather hard in the shoulder. "You're gonna work like the rest of us, sugah. You're on litterbox duty."
Remy groaned; Rogue glared. "Or you can go figure out what wrong with the showers, if you want."
Remy obliged. Bobby and Scott came in, Bobby chipper and Scott brooding. Surprising everyone, Bobby suddenly grabbed Lorna and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. Though shocked, she started to giggle, being cheered up more than a latte ever could. Bobby's grin could have lit up half of New York.
"To a new us?" He whispered into her hair so only she could hear. She nodded and smiled.
For now, there was no silence. Lorna was happy that he had come back, happy that he wanted her back, and happy that he was being affectionate in a way Alex never had. She was surprised to realize she liked it that way, the little jokes and the playful, light-heartedness of it. For Bobby, he just wanted to be her Romeo for a while, no matter if it was forced or not.
"Well, if the two lovebirds can stop actin' like we're in high school, Ah think we can eat." Rogue growled at them. They took the hint and sat down at the table. Rogue looked around. "Where's Hank?"
Remy called out to them. "Shower's workin' again!" He sauntered into the room, fairly pleased with himself.
Rogue grumbled something about Hank having to do the catbox and took a seat. Jean could serve. She seemed eager to do it.
Sure enough, Jean did flit around like some chattering bird, serving and chatting at the same time. Hank thumped down the stairs and looked a bit disappointed that he had to "eliminate the feline's excrements".
"And just after my bathing, too!" He added.
Bobby poked at his hash. "Ummm.Rogue, what is this?"
In response, Rogue cracked her knuckles. Bobby wolfed the hash down.
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"Hey, Jean?" Scott opened the door to see her lying on the couch, investigating a Nora Roberts novel and a small bowl of caramels. "Hey, do you want to go shopping later today? The kids need some food."
Jean lolled and stretched. "You, shopping?"
Scott didn't admit that he was feeling like he was getting paranoid. "Can't a husband spend some time with his wife?"
"Yes, but shopping? You never shop." Jean sat up and laid the book carefully on the table, making sure not to hurt its spine.
"Yeah, I know. Do you want to come?" Inside, he prayed that she said yes. He needed to get out of this house. He needed to stop feeling like she was tricking him, somehow.
Jean looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. "Sure, hon. As long as it's not Home Depot or anything."
Scott smiled too. He was going to spend time with his beloved Jean, and she was going to spend time with him. Alone. Without everyone else.
Jean nudged him playfully, suddenly the one calling the shots. "C'mon, but no hardware stores. You're the only man I know who can spend three hours looking at kinds of boxes."
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While Rogue and Lorna had herded students out of the mansion to go play in the snow, some of the men were taking the time off. Kurt was hanging from the chandelier, watching Errol Flynn movies and nibbling on the remains of breakfast. Bobby had joined him halfway through, though he was mainly interested in the popcorn that he'd made. Hank read the New England Journal of Medicine, and Remy was looking over with great intent what appeared to be an encyclopedia.
Bobby, who felt certain that he'd made amends with his girl, was making every attempt to infuriate the other, not so lucky men. "So, Kurt, the Scarlet Bitch didn't call back?" He asked, grinning ear to ear.
Kurt would not allow Bobby's teasing to ruin his good mood. "No, Bobby, Wanda did not call back."
"Well, it aint like German's de most romantic of languages." Remy said simply from the armchair in the corner.
"Oh, and French is?" Kurt replied, equally absentmindedly.
Hank had to intrude upon their conversation. "Actually, French is one of the Romance languages."
"So dere!" The Cajun playfully stuck his tongue out at the German.
"Ach, Rogue's really going to believe you are reading the encyclopedia upside down, Herr LeBeau."
Hank muttered "Checkmate", and Remy's face turned red as he flipped the book over.
"So what exactly are you reading?" Bobby went over and peered over his shoulder. "Holy shit! Look at her rack!"
Remy's face flushed even more furiously. Bobby sent him a look that was between admiration and pity, like looking upon a hero about to die. "Oh man, Rogue's gonna kill you when she finds you reading the Victoria's Secret catalogue!"
"I'm just shoppin' for her."
Bobby burst into laughter. Kurt shushed him, but chuckled under his breath. Hank snorted into his magazine.
Bobby slapped the end of the armchair. "Victoria's Secret for Rogue?! Man, you are so bad!" Remy raised his eyebrows comically, sending Bobby into uncontrollable hiccups. Kurt and Hank laughed too, and the former circus performer flung part of a leftover sausage at the young man.
"Hey guys, you mind tellin' me what's so funny?" A certain white- striped belle was framed in the doorway. Remy quickly shut the book. The rest stopped laughing, but looked at her innocently. "No? Well, Remy, you wanna come for a walk then? Ah'm going to pick up the mail."
Remy groaned. "Rogue, you know Remy hates-"
"But you never go outside in the winter! You've been holed up in here for a month!"
"Yeah, but-"
"Fine! You want to waste your time in here, that's fine with me. Ah'm sure Kurt doesn't have a problem with a bit of snow. Right?" Rogue turned her attention quickly, purposefully avoiding eye contact with her lover.
"Ja, if you want." Kurt swung down and somersaulted in a flashy manner. Rogue gave a wry smile.
If it were possible, Remy would have sunk so deep into the armchair that he'd never be able to come out.
.
.
Hank was, for the third time that day, cleaning up his bathroom. He'd washed his hands after a particularly nasty experiment, and now the sink was clogged with azure fur. And of course, cleaning the sink meant getting to work on the rest of the room.
While Bellbottoms snuck about and played with the cuffs of his jeans, Hank was busy scrubbing the toilet, cleaning the mirror and re-hanging the shower curtains. He was surprised when Lorna came in, cheeks red, snowflakes caught in her hair. She was beaming.
He looked up at her. "Does this young woman need any assistance with anything?"
"Yeah. Hank, have you seen the hose?"
"The garden shed." He replied simply. "What do you intend to use it for?"
Lorna grinned wickedly. "I'm gonna spray Bobby. He took snowballs a bit too far." Just as she was about to leave, she turned. "Do you need help with that shower curtain?"
No, he didn't, but cleaning the bathroom all alone was no fun. "If you would oblige to aid me."
Today, despite a rough start, was looking as up as the now-hung curtain.
"So, you and Bobby have made amends?"
Lorna nodded, the idea of the garden hose entirely out of her mind. "Yeah. But he seems...a bit different. Like he was waiting for me to admit I've been a bitch."
Hank nodded. He honestly didn't know. He'd only been in love once, with that beautiful news reporter, and she'd never waited on anything from him. He'd been a pit-stop in her life, somewhere off in Arizona, maybe. Enjoyable, but temporary. And then off to God knows where, with postcards.
"That sounds really insane, doesn't it? I mean, like a really bad movie where all they do is bitch about how sad they are or simper about how much they love one another?" She said, sitting on the toilet seat, picking at the stray threads in her scarf.
Hank turned to her, bulky mass belying his grace. The curtain waved slightly. "But you're happy, right?"
"Yes! I mean, I guess." If Hank hadn't seen it before, in the faces of Jean, and of Rogue, and Scott, and Remy and Kurt, he would have been puzzled by the expression in her eyes. But he had seen it before, probably in his own eyes after Trish's pit-stop in Arizona.
Sifting through the ashes looking for embers was just as hard as putting them out. Lorna still ached for Alex, still loved him. And Bobby loved her, but sometimes love wasn't enough to make everything better.
Lorna needed time to heal. She wanted to please Bobby, and he wanted to please her, and in the end they were both forcing it so they could both believe it. They needed some time.
When Lorna left, Hank sat down on the couch where the Discovery Channel was giving a documentary on premature child birth. Bellbottoms sat in his lap, vaguely interested by the squealing babies on the screen. The sound of Bobby's yelps as he was hit by freezing water emanated from outside.
.
.
Kurt always was easier to talk to. He never ridiculed, never insulted, just listened and sometimes offered advice. Not the cheap, three dollar advice like "You need some time" and "Just talk it over", but the real, deep advice that actually made a difference. Because sometimes time was a fickle doctor and sometimes talk was the enemy.
"He never goes outside in the winter anymore." Rogue said solemnly, kicking a rock in front of her. "It's like he's afraid of it."
Kurt breathed out, eyes tracing the steam as it swirled away. "He has good reason to."
"But he's takin' it to a whole new level! He'll sleep with at least four blankets on, and it's just crazy, watchin' him stare out the window and knowing he's too damn afraid to go out. Ah thought we were over Antarctica years ago."
"Rogue, I don't think it has anything to do with whether you two are over it or not." Kurt buried his hands deeper in his pockets.
"What're you sayin'? That Ah scarred him for life?" She irately kicked the mailbox post, then walked past it.
"I thought we were just going to get the mail." He asked quietly.
"Just a bit further. Ah want to show you somethin'." The sounds of Bobby and Lorna pelting each other with snowballs rang throughout the air. Rogue walked on, grey coat blended in with the trees and the shadows, white streak lost in the blinding light of the snow. Kurt followed, his dark skin contrast against the brilliance. It was as if he was sucking the light out of the space he occupied. "All this time, and Ah keep thinkin' he's just like a cancer patient. Somethin's wrong and Ah can't stop it."
"It must bring back unpleasant memories, the cold." Kurt looked up, where the sky was a mirror of grey and white.
"Ah know that, but it's just crazy. He's missin' so much. Like this." Rogue grabbed her brother's sleeve and dragged him off the path, through trees and snow as deep as his ankles.
Kurt complained playfully. "Mein schwester, I find nothing spectacular about getting my pants soaked."
"No, this!" She pulled him out into a clearing. A small creek, half- frozen, trickled through the middle. The sun beat down through a small part in the clouds, in between the trees and onto them. For all the world to have, there were diamonds in the snow, catching the light and sending it back. "Kurt, isn't it beautiful?"
Kurt looked around in wonder. Maybe it was his sister's enthusiasm that made it so heavenly, but most likely it was the place itself. He felt guilty, messing up the snow with his big clunky feet. "Ja, it's beautiful." He said, eyes wide as a small bird fluttered away from the branch above him.
"And he's never gonna see it, because by summer it's a big puddle of mud!" Rogue said suddenly, startling the birds.
Kurt looked at her, at the tears that bit the corners of her eyes. He couldn't tell her it wasn't her fault, because it partially was, nor could he tell her that it would fade with time, because he wasn't sure of that. "He's not sick, Rogue. Winter's just a bad time for him." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't necessarily truth.
"Ah know, but why the hell won't he even try?" Rogue swayed a little, biting her lip.
Kurt had no words for this. It was probably better that way. Rogue leaned onto his shoulder.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm rather cold out here." Kurt said softly. Rogue looked up at him. Without another word, they left the clearing.
.
.
Xavier had probably had some strange idea when he said that they should have a game night every week. Maybe he thought of it as a bonding exercise.
As it was, the rules were very lenient. Every time a different game, no cheating, everyone participated. Tonight, the game of choice was Scrabble. Everyone groaned when Kurt brought in the box and glared pointedly at Hank.
"What, can I help it if I excel in the lingual arts?" He smirked, setting up the board.
"Fine, but we get to be in teams of two against you. Kurt already said he wasn't playin', but can you keep score, sugah?" Rogue beckoned to her foster brother. He nodded.
Remy pulled Rogue's chair out for her. "Remy has his partner, right, chere?"
Rogue smiled. Scott teamed up with his wife and Lorna and Bobby became the other group. Lorna laid down the rules. "You," She pointed to Remy "No French. Anything we can't find in the English dictionary doesn't count. Other than that, regular rules. No using double and triple scores twice, and if you add onto a word it counts for the whole thing."
Scott and Jean were to go first, laying down the word SALAD. Both looked fairly pleased, and Bobby reassured himself that it was only luck.
Hank's 'only luck' gave him the word CATALYST as his opener. From that point on, the game became very lopsided. Hank had words like BELEMNOID and ASPARTAME. Bobby and Lorna's greatest success was PUP.
Tempers started heating up halfway through, when the score was a nice one-forty-three to twelve, fourteen and twenty-one.
It was quickly proved that Remy's lack of education expanded further than basic grammar. He did, however, have an eye for putting letters together.
"Ha! Bourgeois!" He yelled as he arranged the letters, nice and neat, in their little boxes.
"That's not fair! That's not an English word!" Lorna exclaimed. Not that it really mattered, since she and Bobby were at rock-bottom anyway.
Rogue grabbed the Merriam-Webster's Dictionary. "Look, right here!"
"Damn." There it was for Lorna, in plain letters. Bourgeois, noun. Street rabble. French derivative.
Hank tried to keep from bursting into triumphant laughter. "May I expand upon that word?"
Bourgeoisie. Plural form of bourgeois. Kurt chalked up further points for Hank.
"Dat's it, Remy's no good at word games." Remy stood and stalked out of the room. Rogue looked as if to follow him, but realized it would be futile.
Bobby yawned. "Isn't that how these games always end? Someone gets mad and leaves the table?"
Lorna threw her letters in. "If I remember correctly, that was you last time when we played Risk and Kurt stormed Ukraine."
"Yeah, well, I had about three men left anyway. And he had thirty- four." Bobby defended himself.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "That was only after you started making your soldiers walk across the board singin'." She picked up the letter T and started walking it across the table, voice suddenly high-pitched. "All worship Lord Bobby! He is our king! Wheeee!"
It was a surprisingly good imitation, and everyone but Bobby laughed. "You just don't appreciate good humor."
"Hank wins." Kurt said simply. He flipped the chalk between his tail and hands. Hank took a bow while everyone clapped half-heartedly and threw their letters into the box.
They all went that separate ways for the night, Lorna and Bobby heading for one room, Scott and Jean for another, Hank back to the lab, Kurt to his room and Rogue to hers.
"I swear, Hank, you practically live in the lab." Jean had said playfully, leaning into Scott. Then, she was curled deep inside the covers, body warm against her husband's. He smelled the tropical shampoo she had used that morning. He never told her about how that shampoo reeked, but what the hell. She could have her special shampoos.
Rogue came into her room, and was met with the pleasant surprise of Remy crashed out on the bed with only one blanket. He looked an awkward sight, with his feet a bit over the edge and his face buried into a pillow. Softly, she slunk into her own bed and shut off the light.
Down the hall, Kurt was sitting at the edge of his bed, reading an old pirate novel. Further down, Hank was busy working on decoding the genome of a bacteria. Lorna and Bobby were sleeping soundly, one on the couch and one on the small bed.