Jasper's memories still lingered, hovering just below the surface of Rogue's personality, but she was no longer fighting them off. The man's mind was oily and repulsive, a landfill evil and filth, but it also contained information that Rogue found very helpful.
"What's the Thieves Guild?" she demanded of her captor, who was still seated in his folding chair, flicking a deck of cards in his hands. He paused when her question penetrated the growing silence.
"Eit'r you got more pow'rs dan Ah know, girl, or our reputation be proceedin' us," he muttered, glaring at her from behind his glasses. It had been almost a full day since Rogue had awoken in Remy's care, and she was growing steadily more miserable. She had no idea if it was night or day, she hadn't slept, and her head was still throbbing. Even worse, her vision was still fuzzy, and bouts of dizziness threatened to overcome her.
Remy was equally thrilled. He'd either been stuck in this room or sitting just beyond it, and his boredom was quickly mounting. He wasn't meant for this kind of work, stuck inside four walls. No, he was meant for movement and interaction, not babysitting. However, he was quickly learning something about their captive: she was not to be underestimated.
"So, who are they?"
"Dey," Remy said slowly, "are da greates' thieves dis world has eva' known, all rolled in ta one, neat package. More dan' a club or union, da Guild's family."
"And your one of them?" she asked again. Remy resumed his shuffling.
"Not jus' one, chere." He gave a flourishing wave with one hand, flinging the cards from it into the other palm. "Ah'm de bes'."
"Hope you're a good thief, because humility obviously isn't your strong suit," Rogue mumbled, sinking lower into her cloak and pulling her arms into her chest. Despite the heat resonation through the small room, she was freezing. "So what do they want with me?"
Remy wasn't ready for this conversation. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason he just didn't have the heart to break Rogue's fate to her. So he did the next best thing he could: he lied.
"Ah wouldn' know. Ah ain' dat high up da ladder yet. Ah'm jus' da babysitter." Rogue snorted in contempt.
"Yeah, I'm sure the best thief in the world is really low on the corporate thievery totem pole," she said sarcastically. But shee was unable to control the little waver that appeared in her voice as a wave of pain racked through her head. Remy caught it too.
"Roguey, you ain' lookin' so good," he said, pocketing his cards and walking over to her. But she wasn't focused on him, because the room had started to spin once again. Falling back against the wall, she brought her bound hands to her head, moaning.
"Rogue?" Remy called, but she didn't respond.
Blood rushing in his ears, he raced to the door and grabbed the first person he saw. "Get Mama Cece! Get her down here now! Tell her to hurry!" Tearing back into the room, he grabbed his charge by the shoulders, shaking her lightly. "Rogue! Wake up!"
Clinging to the sound of his voice, Rogue tumbled into the darkness creeping into her mind.
Mama Cece was pushing eighty years old, seventy of which had been spent in the service of The Guild. The big Jamaican woman had come to this country with her smuggler father when she was just a child. Training herself in the arts of voodoo and herbal medicine, she was the best healer The Guild had ever known. Remy certainly prayed that her expertise would be enough here.
Moving at a pace typical of someone half her age, Cece sped into the room, hauling her carpetbag of supplies with her.
"Remy? What happed…Oh, so this is the child?" she asked rhetorically, moving the young man out of the way and settling her bulk on the edge of the bed. Lightly running her hands over the bandaged head wounds, she glared at Remy, pacing by her side. "Why was she not brought to me immediately?"
"Ah was given' orders not ta move her," he said in exasperation.
"Then why was I not brought to her?" The old woman began pulling things out of her bag as she spoke, setting an antique wooden bowl on her lap. Digging amongst the random vials in her sack, she pulled out a purple tinted one and poured its contents into the container.
"Look," Remy tried to explain, but knowing there would be no arguing with the woman. "It was jus' a cut. Ah took care of it."
"'It was jus' a cut,'" Cece mocked, now pulling a few strands of herbs from bag and popping them into her mouth. "No, it was Jasper beating in the side of her skull with a pipe. I'd call that more than a cut." Spitting the masticated herbs into her bowl, the healer began to stir the concoction with her finger, mixing in into a pale green paste. "Now make yourself useful boy, and gimme your knife," she ordered. Forking it over, Remy continued his nervous pacing, though even he was unsure why.
Cece took the dagger from the young man and gently cut the knot from the bandages on the girl's head.
"Be car'ful," the Cajun cautioned. "Don' touch her skin." Cece snorted contemptuously.
"I may be old, Lebeau, but I ain't senile. I saw what she did to Jasper. I know what I'm doing. Would you stand still already!" she hissed, proceeding to unwind the dressings with care. Remy froze mid-pace. He knew better than to irritate the elderly healer. Piss her off and you were likely to find your food tampered with. So he stood by the bedside, silently praying that, for the sake of his head and his father's health, Rogue wasn't seriously injured.
"Now, young Remy, while we both here, there's something I want to talk to you about," Mama Cece said in a rather hushed voice as the last of the bandages fell away, exposing the ugly head wound. Remy, completely focused on Rogue, could've sworn he saw the girl flinch at the woman's light touch. He caught himself reaching out to take the runaway's hand, to comfort her, and drew back immediately, embarrassedly delving his hands into his pockets. But Cece had noticed.
"Don't worry boy. Just a muscle twitch; she out cold. Not back to what I was saying. I know what Jean-Luc planning on doing with her." That got Remy's attention. Most knew that Rogue was here, but Remy was almost positive that his father's plans for her were being kept very discreet. Then, as if she'd read his mind Cece said, "C'mon, there ain't much that goes on down here that the good Mama don't know about. But that's beside the point," she muttered with a wave of her right hand. Her left was busy exploring Rogue's temple. "The point is you and I both know he's wrong."
"We do?" Remy asked, still not believing his ears.
"We do," she repeated, handing thrusting her bowl into the Cajun's prone hands and dipping her fingers into the gooey mess. "You especially." The tone of her voice made Remy think she was implying more than she was saying, but he didn't inquire as to what. Instead he tried not to grimace as Cece smeared the paste across Rogue's free-bleeding head. "This is one of those times in your life, Remy, where you have to make a choice where neither option is necessarily easy."
Remy was trying to process a lot at the moment. Between Rogue's injury and Mama Cece's sudden conversation topic, he was trying to focus best he could, with little success. Naturally, he was slightly confused.
"Wait, what choices?" he asked. Beside him, Rogue twitched lightly again. Cece sighed deeply, dipping her fingers again.
"What choices! Remy, this child has been placed in your care," she said in exasperation. "Her future is in your hands. And right now, her future is a life of slavery. To the Assassins, no less. And you," she poked a green stained finger into his chest, "have the ability to change all that."
"How? By just letting her go?" Remy asked, still a step behind. "But Jean and The Guilds,"
"Would be thrown back into turmoil, I know," Cece finished for him gravely. "That would be the downside to doing a good thing." She sighed deeply and, wiping her hands clean on her apron, began to apply fresh bandages to the wound. Remy set the bowl down by the bedside. "But can you live with yourself if you send this innocent into a life not of her own choosing."
"As opposed ta lockin' mys'lf inta a path dat Ah didn' chose?" Remy countered softly, looking at the ground, lost in thought.
"Yes, well that's the question that you have to answer," Cece said, gathering her bag together and inserting the now-empty bowl inside it. "You and only you Remy, can make this decision. No one else. Now, as far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened." She handed him a large bottle filled with a pale brown liquid.
"Give her a swig of this 'bout every two hours. It will help ease the swelling of the concussion she has. The dizziness I'm sure she's feeling will abate too. The paste should close the wound fairly quickly. Plenty of fluids and she'll be up and about in no time." Mama Cece gave the girl's leg an affectionate pat, and turned to go. "I'll be informing the Jean-Luc that the girl is not to be moved for several days. The rest is up to you, Remy." And with that, Mama Cece whirled out of the room, leaving Remy with one big dilemma.
"So, that's what's gonna happen to me, eh?"
Make that two big dilemmas
"And now…now I'm going to be used as some kinda weapon? For these Assassins?" Rogue demanded. Cursing Mama Cece under his breath, Remy had resumed his pacing. Turns out Rogue hadn't been as out of it as Cece had said, and the Cajun was pretty sure her thinking so wasn't just an honest mistake. But whether it was Cece's will, or some twist of fate, it didn't really matter anymore. Because the runaway was pretty well informed on what her future held, and, though still weak, she wasn't very happy about it. "So more people can be afraid of me? So I can have more blood on my hands? More people inmy head? I can't do it! I can't take this anymore!"
"Take what?" Remy hazarded to ask as she stopped for breath.
"Life? Being a freak? Existing locked inside my own skin? Being feared because of what I am? Take your pick!" Rogue screamed, tears filling in the corners of her eyes. 'How did this happen?' she asked herself. 'How did you screw up your life so frickin' badly?'
"Even you, the master thief, you're afraid of me. I'm sure you didn't ask for this post. Hell, you'd be out of here fast as you could run if you had the choice. How'd you get stuck caring for the tradable freak? 'Cause you 'ain' dat high up on da ladder yet?'" she asked sarcastically, doing battle with the sadness inside her. For the first time in his life, Remy was rendered speechless
Though he'd never admit it to anyone, his heart ached for the girl…no, the woman in front of him. He couldn't fathom what it must be like to go through life a prisoner in your own skin. Sometimes he craved contact so badly that he'd settle for any girl willing. But to never touch…never be touched…well, it seemed like the worst punishment imaginable in his book.
Shaking his head sadly, Remy did the only thing he could think to do: answer her question.
"No chere," he said softly, moving towards the door, rubbing the rim of his glasses idly, "You in mah care 'cause, well, birds of a feather…" he mumbled, pulling off his glasses for the first time in her presence.
Red on black eyes pierced through the darkness to observe her where she lay. Rogue's breath caught in her throat as the Cajun left the room. 'He's a mutant too,' her stunned mind whispered. It's a good thing she was so distracted too, because her surprise kept her from hearing his soft whisper of,
"And Ah ain' runnin' anywhere. Not from you…"
A/N: Hi ya'all. Back again, 'nother chapter! 37 reviews, holy cow! Keep 'em coming everyone. And for all you Logan fans, don't worry. You'll be seeing him again very soon (cough next chapter cough). Kewlness. Thanks for all the helpful comments, guys. I love ya'all!
Now Review, I Command You (since doing that worked so well last time…)