DISCLAIMER: Pais le mien. C'est des Merveilles. (Not mine. It's Marvels)
She didn't know where they were going. It hadn't seemed appropriate to ask, given the situation, speeding away from a building on fire and a psychotic maniac and all that. But she was worried. Alright, gal, she chided herself. Admit it. You're scared.
She looked at her companion. She still had the urge to hit him. It seemed natural. Maybe it was his cocky grin? She twiddled her thumbs.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Rogue."
"I know dat," he said, exasperatedly. "Your real name."
She smiled at him; not realizing it was a rather not nice smile. "Rogue."
He rolled his eyes. He swerved and she banged her head on the window. She readjusted and put on her seatbelt. It was fitting, since he was going in excess of a hundred. She didn't know the station wagon he'd hijacked had it in it. Still, his driving wasn't the worst of her worries.
"You?"
"Gambit."
"Oh, Remy LeBeau."
She heard him growl in frustration. "Oui."
"Momma tol' me about you. Said you were a bad boy," she added some husk to her voice. "You gonna be bad t'me, sugah?"
"Maybe after you had a shower, chere. And wash all dat shit off you're face." Rogue sat back, nonplussed. She must look a wreck. She pulled down the sun visor, and flipped the mirror open.
And screamed.
"Mah hair!" she grabbed at the twin white streaks framing her face. "Ah'll kill him!"
"It adds character," Remy said, grinning at her. "Besides it ain't as bad as your temple."
Rogue made a gurgling sound and pulled her hair back. The left side of her head was a welt of black and purle. In the curious shape of knuckles. She was sporting some scrapes on her cheeks as well. And her makeup had run, giving her racoon eyes. Plus she sported a nasty gash on her lip, which was swollen.
She hated that he hadn't a mark on him.
She wanted to give him one, all right.
"You takin' me back, now?" she asked.
He laughed. "Dat would be stupid. Dey'd kill me on site."
"To Mystique's then?" she asked. She hated the hopefulness that colored her voice.
"Non. She be wantin' to kill me too," he said.
"Who doesn't?" Rogue muttered.
"All de ladies, chere."
"I want to kill you," Rogue amended, happily.
"Who said you're a lady?" he laughed.
She did hit him. She couldn't help it. She was just going to tap his arm a little, a warning. But he swerved the car violently. It fishtailed and careened sideways into oncoming traffic. He wrestled with the wheel, slamming on the brakes before gliding, not to gently, into a guard rail.
"What de hell?" he exploded. When he looked at her she was pale.
"Ah didn't mean-did that hurt?"
"I t'ink you broke it!" he shouted at her. He wondered if she were as insane as Sinister. She certainly looked certifiable.
She cringed back into her seat. He noticed her breathing was shallow and her face was without color whatsoever.
"Hey, chere, calm down. I didn't mean t'yell." He tried to console her. The car had started to smoke however, and he was worried about fires. Or someone stopping. He put an arm on her back.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted. She wrestled with her seatbelt, trying to unbuckle it, before growling in anger and ripping it clean from the seat. She stared at the wreckage in her hands. She turned to the door, trying to open it, not realizing it was dented shut.
"Rogue," Remy said, grabbing her arm. She yanked it from his grip and went back to fighting with the door. "Rogue," he said louder, then yanked her back against the seat. "We have t'go out dis way." He noticed she was starting to cry. Big, giant tears that streamed down the dirt and mascara caked on her face.
"Hey now," he said, soothingly. "It ain't dat bad. It's just a Chevy."
"What did he do to me?" she asked, but she knew he didn't have the answers. She broke down in sobs, her shoulders heaving. "Ah shoulda worn the damned spandex! None of this would have happened!" He knew now that she was hysterical. But he heard sirens.
"We gotta go, chere. Much as de idea of you in spandex is appealing," he added. He heard a snort and wondered if it were a laugh.
He climbed out of the car and turned around to help her out. She shook his hand off and stood, unsteadily, peering around. "How are we gonna get away? Walk?" She could see the blue lights coming up the mountain. God, they were on a mountain? She couldn't look down.
"You gotta better idea?" Remy asked, starting to jog uphill.
Rogue looked at her hands. A smile slid over her face. "Yeah Ah do." She ran up to him, and grabbed him beneath his arms. "Hold on," she whispered.
Gambit had his eyes shut. He wondered if his driving had scared her as much as her flying did him. It seemed as if she had never done it before. The air tore at his eyes and nose, and her hands dug uncomfortably into his ribs. He had tangled his feet with hers, to keep them from flapping in the wind. Any other time he'd relish being pressed up against a pretty girl. But this one was nuts. And she smelled like wet dog.
"Where we goin'?"
"Why should Ah tell ya?" she asked. "You wouldn't tell me!"
"Cause I didn't know!" he shouted, over the wind.
"Ah'm going t'Momma. She'll know what to do."
"Momma…Mystique!" he started to squirm. "Are you nuts? I said she watned to kill me!"
"Shut up and stop squirming, or Ah'll drop you! She won't kill you. Maybe a little torture, but Ah'll tell her not to hurt you. Or your pretty little face."
"A lotta ladies be grateful, chere," Remy remarked. Her grip slackened.
"Keep jokin', LeBeau."
"Dieu!" he said, feeling his stomach drop out. "Can't you…I don't know…fly a little faster?"
"This is mah first time, Ah don't want to push it," she replied.
"What? I'm gonna die. All because I couldn't deny a pretty face. Papa always said a redhead be de death o'me!"
"Smart man, your papa," Rogue commented. She decided on sarcasm, because she was totally, hopelessly lost. Nothing looked familiar to her. She wondered if she were even going the right direction. The wind kept pushing her, too, so she had decided to 'fly' with it. If it were flying. It was kind of like jumping…without the falling…only horizontally. It wasn't as if she were riding the wind, or flapping wings, or any of the things you'd normally consider flight. No, she just was. Above the earth. Anti-gravity, she was guessing. But she never paid attention in physics.
She sighed. "Ah don't suppose ya know where we are?" she asked. She flew lower, her arms getting tired of holding him. She hoped she would recognize one of the buildings, but she hadn't.
He was quiet. "I t'ink we in Hell's Kitchen."
"Hell's…oh that's reassuring."
"It's not so bad a place. Has it's own 'costumed avenger'."
"Know how to get to Westchester from here?" she couldn't keep the sarcarm from her voice.
"Oui. Keep on till you reach de river, den go south."
She flew higher. It was the oddest feeling, but she settled her grip tighter around the Cajun's lanky body. He really did smell good, kinda like spices. But he was heavy!
Following his directions, the landscape grew more familiar. She was able to navigate, grateful she didn't have to ask him for directions anymore. She wasn't able to fly completely to Mystique's hideout, though, and set them down a few miles down the road.
"Ah think ya been eatin' to much gumbo," she snapped, stretching her arms.
"Nah, you jus' lazy. Been livin' it up in a mansion, why de rest of us scrape out our livin's on de street."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Get truckin', swamp rat."
"Cute. But dis is where I say adieu."
"Ah don't think so," she said, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. She had made him lose the trenchcoat since it tended to billow up and blind her as she was flying. He hadn't been happy.
"Chere," he said. "Dis not be a good a idea." She felt the card press into her belly.
"Forget it! Ah ain't lettin' you go so you can go runnin' back to whatever little hole you came from!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you!" he said, charging the card and bringing it up to her face. The impact caused them to blow apart. She landed in an alley, crushing the top of a dumpster. He hit his head on the wall of a building. He was impressed by the crater she had created but he was gone before she could pick herself up from it.
"Ah'll kill him!" she growled, pulling bits of garbage from her hair. Her shirt and jacket had been singed, and she pulled the scraps tighter to cover her. "Ah swear, if it's the last thing Ah do, Ah'll kill him!"
Now wasn't that sweet?
