Wish You Were Here
A/N: My first X-men movie-verse fic! Interesting because I can introduce Remy in my own way. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: All components and characters of the X-men comics/movie belong to Marvel Comics. The lyrics of the song used in the title and below belong to Pink Floyd. I own nothing but the plot.
Summary: She met him on a sultry summer day. And this is how it goes. (ROMY)
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground. What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
The sky was the colour of blood tinged with gold that evening as the sun set over the mansion. The air was thick and heavy with the smell of lilac and honey suckle, and the sound of splashing in the pool, laughter from the patio, and a slow tune droning on an acoustic guitar somewhere in the distance.
Rogue felt unusually at-peace as she lounged in the grass, watching the blades darken in the absence of the mid-day sun. The garden lights had just come on, and she could hear the sliding door opening and closing.
She closed her eyes and tried to savour the feeling of such contentment; she tried to imprint the feeling of grass tickling her bare arm, the warm breeze drifting by, and her steadily beating heart. It wasn't often she had a chance to relax like this.
She rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows to watch the people milling around the backyard.
Jean was talking in hushed tones to Scott as he flipped the shish kabob and ribs; the last traces of sun glinting off his crimson sunglasses. They both had amused smiles on their faces.
Her eyes immediately sought out Logan, who was talking to Ororo, constantly glaring over her shoulder at the couple. His gruff face was unusually relaxed though, and he looked comfortable for once, holding a bottle of Molson's with the sleeves of his ever-present plaid shirt rolled up casually. Storm, as always, looked composed and calm.
Kurt was lounging on the pool deck, playing an unfamiliar German tune on his guitar. Jubilee and Bobby were splashing at each other in the pool; Rogue took a moment to think about how she felt about this. She and Bobby had recently broken up due to many factors; most obvious of which was that Rogue needed someone more mature. Bobby was fun and sweet, and when she thought of him, she pictured sunny skies and diet Coke- something she associated with childhood.
'Nah,' she decided. 'Definitely over Bobby.'
Her eyes finally rested on professor Xavier. He was talking to a young man she'd never seen before. The boy was half-smiling and nodding. Shaking the professor's hand, he stood silently as he watched him roll away to talk to some of the others. Ororo seemed to notice him alone because she came up to him and hugged him briefly, a sisterly smile on her face.
Then, to Rogue's utter surprise, Ororo turned in her direction and pointed out at the field where she was lounging in the grass. She froze and watched as the stranger smiled and nodded at Storm. He then proceeded to walk in her direction.
Marie flushed. Why was he coming towards her? What did Ororo say to him?
She hid deeper into the grass and pretended to pluck at the blades; she heard footsteps swishing through the tall grass and a faint trace of musky cologne filtered through the air.
The foot steps stopped but she didn't look up; instead she tensed when she felt him kneel down beside her, and then proceed to sprawl onto his stomach next to her. There was a confusing silence for a few seconds.
"So what we be starin' at, petite?" His low voice asked curiously, as casual as can be. She noticed his thick Cajun accent and immediately images of darkly lit corners and the mournful blues of Louisiana swam into her mind. She finally spoke.
"We be starin' at nothin', I was starin' at somethin'," she finally glanced over at him. "Nice of ya ta intrude on mah sol'tude, stranger."
The corner of his well-defined lips twitched briefly and he reached into his long trench coat for something- a pack of cigarettes.
She studied him; he was young, definitely, maybe a few years older than her. He had messy auburn hair than fell into his eyes-eyes that were currently hidden by sunglasses, even though there was no sun out- and a well-defined jaw lightly covered in stubble. Rogue thought he was handsome, in a roguish, scruffy sort of way. He spoke again.
"Je desolè," he murmured. "Gambit t'ought you looked kinda lonely out here."
She pulled at another blade of grass and looked away from him, towards the sky. It was a dark violet sort of colour, with crimson just seeping along the horizon.
"Gambit?" She asked. "Issat yah name?"
"Qui et non," He replied. "Real name is Remy LeBeau." He looked over at her and grinned. She was quite taken aback at how disarming his smile was. She actually laughed.
"'Remy the beautiful?'"
"Ah, so la belle fille speaks French?" He asked, lighting the cigarette between his lips. The quick flare of the flame was a bright spot in the darkness of the evening.
She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Kinda," she said by way of reply.
There was a brief silence in which Remy smoked his cigarette; she watched the way his elegant long fingers curled around the stick, and how he blew rings of smoke from his pouted lips. She felt a twinge of girlish embarrassment from watching him.
"So Ah guess you're a new student here." She said, tucking a stand of white hair behind her ear.
"Non," he said, looking over at her. His teeth were a white flash in the darkness. She heard a quick spout of laughter from the group on the patio. "Remy's too old ta be a student, chere."
"Too old?" She scoffed, smiling.
He smirked in that charming way of his; her smile faltered a bit at the sudden flutter at her heart.
"How old do you t'ink I am, petite?"
"18," She guessed. He shook his head. "19-20." He shook his head again. "Older than 20?" She asked, gaping. "No way."
"22, chere."
She grinned. "You're definitely too old ta be callin' me 'chere', then."
He laughed, a rich, husky sound. He put his cigarette out. Rogue suddenly had a million questions she wanted to ask. What was he doing here, then? How does he know Storm? Is he a mutant? If so, what's his transformation? She was too busy staring at him to realize he was answering a few of her questions.
"Here ta' help de Proffeseur wit a few t'ings," he murmured mysteriously. "Stormy be an old friend of Gambit's, she told me I could have a place ta stay, if I came to live wit her."
"How long will yah stay?"
He didn't answer, just turned towards her and reached for her hand. She almost flinched, but then remembered that she was wearing gloves. He brought he gloved hand to his lips and brushed them against her knuckles. To say she was flustered was an understatement.
"Remy didn' get de pleasure of hearin' your name, petite."
"Oh," she said, feeling stupid. "Marie." She was surprised again when she found herself telling him her real name, instead of automatically replying "Rogue," when people asked.
"Nice to meet you, Marie." He said, smiling softly at her. Rogue felt mesmerized by his cologne, the beautiful night, the easiness of the moment, her sleepy face in the reflection of his dark sunglasses. In the light of the barely visible moon and the sound of the wind rustling through the grass around them, she closed her eyes and lay her head down on her bare, folded arms.
"Ya hear that, Remy?" She asked, feeling lightheaded.
"I hear a lot of t'ings right now, chere."
"Mmhmm," she murmured. "Ah think this is tha happiest I've evah been." She opened her eyes and stared at him again. He was looking up at the sky, and Rogue wondered how she could feel so close to this man she barely knew.
"Remy?"
"Qui?"
"Why do ya wear those sunglasses? S'no sun out."
He took them off; his eyes were closed but she could see his whole face now- his strong cheek bones ran into a well-sculpted mouth, the strong bridge of his nose, his dark eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheeks- illuminated by moonlight and darkened again by the shadows of the grass. She thought he was impossibly beautiful.
"Look at me, Remy,"
He turned towards her and slowly opened his eyes; she exhaled the breath she'd been holding in a quiet, stunned gasp.
She would have called them demonic were they not so vibrant and alive; red on black as the devil himself, but sitting in Remy's perfect face they looked perfectly beautiful.
"Oh," she began.
He slipped them back on, quickly. "That's why I don' like-"
"No," she said, reaching for the glasses again, and carefully making sure she didn't make contact with his skin, slipped them off his face. The unusual eyes blinked at her, a mixture of confusion and something else. "I think they're perfect."
He continued to stare at her, and Rogue felt a slow heat curling in her stomach from his heated glance. She wondered if she should tell him that she couldn't touch anyone. Instead, to ease the heaviness of the moment, she asked, "What did 'Ro tell you? Why did you come out here to sit with me?"
He smiled, and now she could see how his eyes narrowed with her did so. Her heart skipped another beat. 'Shut up, you in there,' she thought miserably.
"Stormy said dat she was glad t' see Gambit 'gain, and dat maybe I'd get 'long wit de belle fille lyin' in th' grass, if I wanted t' try t' make some new friends."
Rogue found herself smiling. "An' how's that goin' so far?"
"Tres bon, chere, though Remy wishes you'd not be so tense; I ain' gon' bite, y'know."
She looked away from him at began to worry at the blade of grass in her finger tips again. Was he physic? If he was and he was reading her thoughts—
"Remy ain' no mind reader, chere." He replied quickly. She gaped at him. "I can feel it."
She sat up on her elbows again and turned over to lie on her back, looking up at the stars that were beginning to twinkle in the inky sky. She supposed she might as well tell him, in case he tried to touch her; after all, judging by his smile, his voice, his charm—he was used to having his way with the opposite sex.
"Remy, Ah'm glad we can be friends. But Ah hafta tell ya about—well, mah mutation." Blades of grass tickled her cheeks when she spoke.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then, "Anyt'ing, petite."
She didn't know why she felt she could trust him not to run away, or to avoid her; perhaps he immediately liking to him—but she took a deep breath and told him anyway.
"Ah can't let mah skin touch anyone else's bare skin—" she sighed. "Ah suck out their memories an' energy; if they're mutants, their powers, too." She looked over at him, and in the semi-darkness she could make out the shape of his fingers against his temple, the wild cowlicks of hair framing his face, and his suddenly serious eyes. "An' if Ah hold on long enough—well, Ah kill 'em."
There was silence for a long time. She could hear his breathing and her own; she faintly heard Jubilee's screech and someone falling into the pool. A bubble of laughter rose.
He finally spoke. "So you ain' never kissed no one, Marie?" His voice was soft, and husky, and when he said her name it was accented; a little shiver ran through her. Perhaps it was the breeze.
"A few times—"she began, but stopped. "As you can imagine, it didn't end too well."
She felt that Gambit must have sensed her apprehension on the subject of her past and didn't pursue it further; he must have had his own secrets.
"Dat be about the saddest t'ing Gambit heard in a long time, chere."
She didn't need his pity. She sat up. "Yeah, well, some things yah just have ta live with, Swamp Rat."
He smirked. "Swamp Rat?"
"Ah only lived in Mississippi mah whole life, Cajun. Ah can tell us southerners apart." She looked down at him. He was lying on his back, facing the huge open sky. There was a soft, seductive smile on his face; it probably wasn't intentional—his face just relaxes that way, it seemed.
"You've got pet names for dis Cajun already, non?" He murmured. She felt her throat dry up.
While looking at Bobby made her think of rays of sunshine and kittens, looking at Gambit made her think of cigarette smoke and dark alley's and slow, sultry tunes on a sax.
She smiled down at him. "Don't push your luck, snake charmer. Ah told ya mah mutation—what's yours?"
He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked behind him, seemingly checking on the gathering on the patio, and looked back at her. He grinned easily and withdrew a pack of playing cards from his jacket pocket, slipped one out and threw the rest of the pack aside.
He held up the card facing her. She laughed. "Ace of hearts," she said.
He snapped his fingers and the card was gone. She looked confused as she stared at his open palm. "Wha?—"
He reached for her face and Rogue flinched slightly. Instead, very careful to avoid her skin, he pulled out the same card from behind her ear. She laughed.
"That's your power, sugah? Card tricks?"
Remy grinned again. "Non, petite. That was my introduction." He looked around. "Anything round this field that you want destroyed, chere?"
She blinked. "Destroyed?" She pointed into the distance. "That fallen tree ovah there. Cyke's been bitchin' bout movin' the damn thing."
Gambit nodded. Immediately, the card in his hand began to glow crimson. With a swift flick of his wrist, the card sailed from between his fingers and disappeared into the bark of the tree in the distance. For a moment, nothing happened.
"I don't under-"
But suddenly the tree blew up into a million pieces, showering pieces of wood all over the yard. Rogue yelped.
"Mah God, Remy," she laughed. "That's a fuckin' great mutation, if you don't mind mah sayin' so."
"Merci, chere," he grinned. He looked behind him and rolled his eyes. Storm and Wolverine were coming towards them. Rogue sighed.
"Remy, what in the Goddess' name was that explosion?" Strom demanded, looking pretty in her white summer dress. Wolverine stood over them, his dislike for the Cajun apparent in his eyes.
"Just blew up that tree, there, Stormy," Remy said smoothly, smiling charmingly. "Mademoiselle Marie here said that someone wanted it moved. Is that a problem?"
She stared at him for a moment. "Try not to make things explode while you're here, Remy," she finally said warningly. He smiled easily. "Qui, Stormy."
She left with Wolverine who was muttering something under his breath. Gambit turned to Rogue and smiled. "That big guy don't seem to like Gambit very much, huh chere?"
She laughed. "Don't mind him. He's just over protective of me."
Gambit laughed, though she couldn't shake the feeling that Logan knew something about the handsome stranger that Rogue didn't.
"Well Monsieur Logan need not worry, petite," He reached for her gloved hand again and pressed a kiss in the middle of her lace-covered palm. "Remy here is a gentleman, non?"
She smiled, her girlish heart fluttering against her ribcage. "We'll see, Cajun." He held onto her hand and his red on black eyes held her gaze in a way that heated her blood. He let go after a few moments and turned to lie on his back again. He pulled another cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it, the smoke left his lips, winding and serpentine.
The stick dangling from his mouth he looked up at her again. "We'll see." He said.
A/N: And? One-shot or make it a series? You tell me. Reviews would be heavenly.
3 M.