I do not own X-Men: Evolution or Marvel in any way, shape, or form. All I own is my idea. Please do not sue me, for it will just be a waste of time and money in trying to find a lawyer. Thank you.
Normalcy
"You're home, mate! Oy thought you'd never get 'ere."
Dropping his keys onto the dusty marble of the kitchen counter, Remy walked over to the couch and plopped himself down on the soiled, ratty cushions that were tearing apart at the seams as its stuffing began to fall out. "Where's de Big Guy?" he asked, referring to Colossus who seemed to be absent.
"Oy think 'e told me that 'e was going grocery shopping. Said 'e'll be back soon."
"Sabertooth?"
"Probably using the litter box."
"What 'bout Mags?"
"You mean Ol' Bucket Head? Oy aven't seen 'im. Nobody 'as. There 'asn't been a sign of 'im," John answered. He continued to tell Remy about all that he had missed while in France, but after becoming aware of the bored, vacant look on his face, John sensed he wasn't interest in his ramblings. Quietly, he escaped to his room. Behind the closed door, Remy could hear the Aussie's maniacal laughter. A faint orange glow slowly crept out from the crack between the door and the carpet.
Remy followed his associate's example and went to his own room as well. He let his suitcase tip over to the ground as he collapsed on his unmade bed. Everything in the room was untouched; the same way he had left it. Magazines of women covered the floor---there was no longer room to even walk, except on top of the many covers. Posters of Halle Berry, Charlize Theron, and Pamela Anderson still stuck to his wall, perfectly intact.
'It's good t' be home.' He pulled out his special deck of cards and shuffled them a few times. Without glancing, he pulled out the first card: a Queen of Hearts. Carefully, he studied the card and out of the blue, he remembered the girl he met in France---no, too vague ... he met many girls in France. It was the one who conked him over the head with an alarm clock. 'What be the femme's name? Oh, oui, Remy remember---Rogue.'
He couldn't quite decide why, but he felt a longing for her ... to see her face again. "Remember what y' promised y'self, Remy. Never fall in amour," he told himself over and over again. He reached into his top dresser drawer and pulled out an open box full of photographs that hid underneath his boxers. Each photo showed a different girl he had deceived into falling in love with him. Suddenly, he felt shame and regret for playing each and every one. He never had this sentiment before. Why now?
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On the other side of Bayville, New York, Rogue was beginning her nightly protocols. She had already changed into her mint green and yellow pajamas and was, at the moment, performing her relaxation poses to help her get sleep. Currently, she was up against the wall, balancing on only her head---of course, with a little help from her hands.
"What are you, like, doing?" Kitty asked as she came out of the bathroom both girls shared between their individual bedrooms. After the mansion had been destroyed, Professor Xavier had rebuilt it with a few modifications, as he liked to call them.
She answered, "It helps meh unwind."
"Oh, okay. Anyways, would you, like, mind if I used your hairbrush? I looked all over the place and mine's totally disappeared!"
Rogue smiled. "Sure Kit."
"Like, thanks." And with that, Shadowcat disappeared back into the bathroom to fix up her hair before going to bed.
From her position, Rogue looked up at her watch. It was 12:51AM. All the Institute's inhabitants, excluding the adults, had a ten o'clock curfew. The teenagers, apart from Jamie, could chose whenever they wanted to go to bed. Most chose reasonable bedtimes, but a few, mainly the New Recruits, stayed up later than they should have. Their report cards definitely showed it. And a bad report card meant more sessions with Logan. But luckily, there were about two weeks of summer vacation left, so everyone could go to bed at whatever time pleased them, as long as they were ready for the early training session with Wolverine.
Rogue tumbled into a somersault and slowly stood up. With a simple clap, the lights went dim and she was left alone in her dark room. She ambled over to her bed and threw back the sheets. Clumsily, she stumbled and landed on her mattress. She pulled the sheets over her legs and snuggled up against her fluffy pillow.
Her mind couldn't---wouldn't shut off. She couldn't forget France ... and Remy LeBeau---especially Remy. Why was it that she kept thinking of him? She hardly knew the stud. There wasn't a bond or anything---she hadn't absorbed him; another mystery she would figure out later.
'Then why can't Ah get him out of mah head?'
- I'm sorry for not updating earlier. I had major writer's block. I'm also sorry it's shorter than the others. Hope you liked it. Also, I disclaim the names Halle Berry, Charlize Theron, and Pamela Anderson. Thanks and please review. xmengirlzrule -
