Hey all, I'm back with another addition to this creepy tale. I hope everybody has been enjoying their time reading this story--I've enjoyed writing it. Though it would be nice to do some reading of my own. Anybody who's in contact with Ishandahalf, edanielyra, or Seven Sunningdale, give them a ring and tell them to update their stories! I am especially eager to know the conclusion of "Love of my Life"--wow, that's such a great story.
Sorry this took longer than usual. The annoucement on said we wouldn't be able to login on Aug. 17 and 18--so I didn't. But then I tried it anyway and got in so, heck, whatever.But school's coming close and my thoughts are becoming more boggled with each passing day. I've lost track of the days, actually, and I hate that. I've been one day behind for a week and it's incredibly disappointing to find out it's the 18 when you think it's the 17. God, school's coming. Ick.
Anyway, down to review replies.
Freak87: Events are quite unsettling, aren't they? Questions and contemplations will either be confirmed or disproved in due time.--wink-- And yes, the ghost is getting hungrier as time gets along, isn't she? I thought the love interest in Remy was a fascinating twist to explore. It'll play a big part in later chapters. Once school starts I'm pretty sure I'll be updating less frequently--but I definitely will not stop! The story must be told. As for the sequel, it's going to come along super slowly--much like edanielrya with Broken and Seven Sunningdale's stories (again, why must they take so long to update? I swear I'm dying over here). And, yes, I did get a large burst of inspiration. Glad to know you're enjoying it. Sweety8587: I know I've said this before but I'll say it again, I love reading your reviews! LoL. Anyway, yes, bittersweet Remy contemplations will only lead to more frustration and confusion--and once that happens--to rash actions. Oh, yes, you'll see what happens after you read this message and scroll down. Lovin' all your speculations on Wraith and the plot. Believe me, when I was first plotting out the story, it didn't have any of this stuff. Funny how ideas and things just come once the fingers start tapping out the story upon the keyboard. You won't be disappointed with how this ends! Flowerperson: Yep, three's the charm, right? And it is only Jean, Kurt, Remy, and Rogue--but even that won't last as you'll see in this chapter. And I did figure the mansion would be creepy when not filled to the rim with energetic mutant kids. I hope this update wasn't too tardy for your expectations! Shockgoddess: New job? I wish I could have a new job! Retail is so typical and annoying. And I love how Remy teases Rogue, though they didn't put much of that in Evolution. Would have been amusing to see it. Ishandahalf: As always, your enthusiasm is spurring! Sungirl: Oh, thank you. Your comment was unique. I try to make the story fluid to readers and understanding. And yes, it annoys me too how some fanfictions simply make the characters what they want instead of what they really are--I'm glad you think I've done it right. SickmindedSucker: Oh, yes, the infamously hated crap in life. Trust me, I'm having plenty of that right now. Y'like the butt-pat huh? I think many people did. Hehehe. Whoa, control those murderous urges, my friend--everybody is going to get theirs in the end. PomegranateQueen: thank you, keep reading! It only gets better from here on out. Gren44: I didn't think this story would have a whole lot of action in it--but if it didn't, how boring would that be?? The toughest part is describing it write and getting the actions so they can be pictured in the mind. The deal in Austria is of less focus, but what the Professor, Logan, and Storm are going through will be told nonetheless. Allie: Thank you--I'll keep emailing those alerts until somebody tells me to stop. I hate to be annoying. :) sd: You have no idea what's going on?? How can that be?? Or are you just kidding? Basically there's the ghost who's attacking people but nobody knows why yet. And she's also got a thing for Remy and Rogue's psyches are terrified of her. Yeah, how's that for a curt summary? Silkyblack: I wish everybody would read this story I night! I type it at night and, God, even I get shivers from the plots of my own making. Hmm, don't know Mary Higgins Clark, though the name does carry a particularily familiar ring to it.... As for Remy staying, you'll have to just read this chapter and see. Kendokao: Of course leaving the school won't make them safer. Parents, right? Remy needs to trip a few notches down his ego scale 'cause frankly, it makes him a jackass. I like it so much better when he's doubtful and contemplative--but of course he can't stay that way all the time otherwise he wouldn't be our Remy! Everybody wants Jean to die! I feel sorry for the girl honestly, but, ehhh, I'm trying really hard not to reveal plot points to you guys. Just me: Glad you agree to my methods, and coming from a new name, that's refreshing. And what kind of horror story would be a horror story if it lacked creepiness? ; ) I wish would have a genre that said Romance/ActionAdventure/Horror. I didn't think there'd be any action here at all, but in the upcoming chapters, I outdid myself. NevaBlack: So another reader reads at night! Yes! I really wish everybody would do that because it's so much easier to get into it that way. Keep reading! Oh, by the way, whenever a nonmember reader posts an email, I tend to personally alert them to updates--if you mind, tell me to stop. Yersi Fanel: Well, I try to make it interesting. If it's not interesting to write, I figure it wouldn't be to read. Glad you like my writing style. And I agree, I think I am seriously in love with Remy! Werewolflass: yay! You're back. And I'm glad you say that Remy is an adult because technically he is, right? His age is a little ambiguous in Evolution--but in the places I've read up on him, he's been said to be 22 and Rogue is 18. Four years apart...heh. And oh yes, I know how it is to have Internet withdrawal. I wish I had satellite Internet connection or something for this laptop so I could take it anywhere, write, and upload. But dreams... Hawkgirl: Ah, a new reviewer! I always love seeing a fresh penname on the list. And you're the first person to say my work is artful and a gem--I thoroughly enjoy such unique compliments. More fight scenes are up and coming--I wish I could have put this under the Action/Adventure genre, too. Oh well.
Thanks to all of you that reviewed! And if you didn't, shame shame. Make it up to me by writing hellishly long reviews for the upcoming chapters. Ha.
Anyway, no more notes because I'm sure you're tired to seeing these irrevelent comments! On with the show...
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He sat on the roof, arms resting on his angled knees, eyes seeing nothing. He was having troubling thoughts.
Last night Hank, Tabitha, and Wanda had been taken to beds in the Infirmary. The doctor would have been proud at how well his students handled the situation. They had been paying attention when he taught them how to care for a comatose patient. Once all the IVs and monitors were set and connected, the three remaining X-Men stood back and looked at the their friends.
Six beds with six patients. Remy had stood in the corner, watching the expressions of fear and sadness on their faces. It was the harrowing situation before them that caused the rogue, the telepath, and the fuzzy blue elf to clutch each other in a hug. They were the last of the X-Men and it was all too real for them.
Even as an outsider, Remy knew what they were thinking, knew what they feared. What if they couldn't save their friends? What if the Professor, Logan, and Storm never came back? What if...What if...
Won't you be mine, Remy. Her vaporous voice was fresh in his mind, her words still as bone-chilling. Would you cry for me, Remy?
He wanted to forget all this. As if he didn't have enough ghosts in the past to haunt him. Why did this have to happen--now of all times? But then again, was it not the haunting of this girl that brought him to these people in the first place? If she had never come and impaired him, Julien and the Assassins never would have gotten the upper hand, never would have wounded him so austerely. And he never would have come to the X-Men, never have... He shook his head. He wanted to forget, but the one thing that could make him forget was occupied at the moment.
Summer suns set later than he was accustomed to. The golden orb seemed very near as it began to sink into the horizon. Splashes of pink, orange, purple, and red illuminated the sky like the artistic works of divinity. When was the last time he admired the sunset? Oh, yes, a couple nights ago, with Rogue--before the current horrors. They sat at that exact spot and talked, talked until the stars and moon came out and both of them grew sleepy. Despite what was happening they managed not to dwell on troubling subjects. Rogue was amazing in that way and Remy could forget....
"Ya ever think maybe the stars aren't just bright balls of energy?" she had asked.
Remy gave her quirky smile, "What you mean, chere?"
She shrugged, one side of her mouth tucked in so the cheek dimpled. "There doesn't have ta be a science to everything. Ya know, like maybe they're souls or lil' deities or other planets..."
"Some o'dem are planets."
Rogue scowled, "Nevamind."
"Non, I know what y'mean. Just messin' wit' y'."
"Ya sure like to tease people, swamp rat. Ever get tired of it?"
"Nope."
"And what if ya got people mad?"
"Usually do, chere."
Rogue rolled her eyes, "Ah guess that's the point, huh? You're just an annoying, flirty, touchy, thieving Cajun."
Remy chortled, "Lots o'adjectives dere. An' dey ain't all true, either."
"Sure..."
"An' you, chere?"
"What about me?"
"Funny, cute when y'mad, pleasant, a tres belle femme."
Rogue snorted and waved away his remark. "Trust me, those aren't the words most people would choose."
"Den dey don't know y' very well."
She didn't say anything, simply hugged her knees closer to her chest and let the wind caress her hair. Her white streaks fluttered to and fro around her porcelain face, teasing the curves of her cheeks, brushing against her velveteen lips. She must have realized he was staring because a light blush blossomed under her skin.
"Feelin' uncomfortable, chere?" Remy couldn't help but ask.
"No, why would Ah?"
Remy shrugged, giving her a sly smile.
"Please. Ya aren't enough to make me nervous."
"Non?" He inched closer to her until they were side-by-side and almost touching. "How 'bout now?"
"Nope," she said easily, but her cheeks betrayed her.
He walked his fingers up her arm, ran them through her hair. "Now?"
She suddenly started laughing, "This has got to be your lamest trick, swamp rat. Your charms aren't gonna work on me."
"Realized dat long time 'go, chere. But I ain't usin' 'em."
Rogue suddenly shoved him away with an irritated sigh. She pushed him harder than intended and watched in surprise as he toppled precariously backwards. He slid down the roof, hands groping for something to grab onto. She cried out his name in alarm and lunged forward, snatching the collar of his trench coat. His feet finally got a hold and with her help, hoisted himself up to safety.
"Are ya all right?" Rogue asked, grimacing. "Sorry, Ah didn't mean to..."
"S'fine," he said, feigning anger. "Coulda broken m'neck but 's fine."
"Remy, Ah really am sorry," she insisted.
"Already wounded 'nough, too. T'ink de gashes might be bleedin' again."
"Dang it, what do ya want me to do?"
He couldn't help grinning then, wrapping his arms around her and leaning back until she lay on top of him. Her persistent squirming only made him laugh. "Want y' t'show me how sorry y'are, chere."
She glared furiously, "Paws off! No touching!"
"Too late."
"Remy--"
"Love de way y'say m'name, chere."
"Oh mah God!" she exclaimed in submission. "There's just no winning with you!"
He only continued to laugh and soon, she did, too. When the chuckles ceased she was still on top of him and their closeness became tantalizingly palpable. He saw her throat constrict and relax as she swallowed nervously. He became maximally aware of who she was, what she was, where she was. What he wanted her to be. He did not know what to make of it. She was the untouchable one. She was the forbidden fruit. And ergo, she was inevitably a waste of his time. Or was she? She was... There were no other words.
Emeralds deeper than the sea, greener than the healthiest plant, scared.
She broke out of his hold and crawled a safe distance away. "It's late," she said, not looking at him. "We better go inside."
"Sure, chere." He followed her in, utterly confused about what had just occurred, the feelings he had. And as he slept that night, his dreams were not haunted by the misty phantom. Another specter teased his mind, taunted his desires. She would come so close but always manage to slip out of his grasp, sighing in a sing-song voice, "Can't touch me." And he'd stop the chase, stare into oblivion as she continued to tease and play ebulliently. "I know, chere," he said. "I know."....
Remy snapped out of his reverie and back to the present. The sun had completely set. He looked around as though confused about where he was. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
What now? The uncertainty of what to do next was driving him crazy. He felt obligated to stay with the remaining X-Men, but at the same time it didn't seem to be his place. What if they wanted him to leave? That Nightcrawler was always giving him distrustul looks, much like the ones Shades used to shoot.
It'd be mean an' downright rude t'go, he reasoned. It ain't right t'jus' abandon Rogue and dem when all de others are already gone.
Safety in numbers. He should stay.
He felt the bottle of sedative still in his coat pocket. There was still a job left undone, one he should have finished days ago. Not to mention the Acolytes must be wondering where he was. Damn, he hated conflict. It seemed that unfinished business would forever nag him until he took care of it. Then he could return and deal with the present situation. Besides, there was something--an internal instinct--that beckoned him to return to Theodore Farrat. He had to go. He did not know why but he knew it was necessary. Maybe this was for the better. His doubts did not disperse as he made his plans.
He walked across the roof until he found a balcony. Lowering himself onto it, he landed softly and then scaled down the nearby tree until he touched ground. This way he wouldn't have to go through the mansion. He wouldn't have to bump into her.
He walked around the side of the building, coming into view of the front steps and the circular roundabout driveway. He started walking towards the gate, planning the distance he should strike his bo-staff onto the ground and propel himself over the wall. Or would that hurt his wounds? He'd find out in a few minutes.
Better jus' t'leave an' never look back, he told himself. He thought of teasing, of laughter, of beautiful green gems. Don' know what y'gettin' y'self into, LeBeau.
But the pure truth of it was, he really wanted to know, even if he couldn't admit it.
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Her pale knuckles rapped against the guest bedroom door. When she received no reply she nudged it open slightly and called softly, "Remy?" Silence. She walked in and found the bed made, the windows closed, and everything looking like the room had never been used. Rogue couldn't help herself. She looked around for a note, a scrap of paper, an unreadable scribble--anything. She left the room feeling worse than previously. But how was that possible? Some of her friends were in a coma while the others had been whisked away to disillusioned safety. And the Professor, Storm, Hank, Logan? No more sagely wisdom, no more comforting growls, no more calm strength or scientific witticisms. Rogue questioned her sanity. Already things were bad and she felt worse because the dumb Cajun had disappeared.
And was it not like him to leave without saying good-bye? After all, what did he owe anybody here? He wasn't an X-Man. He wasn't a part of the team. So why couldn't he just disappear without a care for anything or anybody.
Rogue felt herself near tears. Oh, great. Just what Ah need right now. She had not cried for a very long time. This was absolutely ridiculous. But then again she could not remember ever feeling so helpless. She rubbed her eyes, smearing her make up. She went to her room and took a searing hot shower. Then she dressed in a long-sleeve green shirt and black sweat pants. She did not re-apply her makeup.
This summer sucks, she decided, heading downstairs.
The entire day had been spent tending to the comatose X-Men. It would have been easy to leave them alone, sleeping, but days of extended rest drained the body of its nutrients. They needed to be fed in little amounts intravenously. IV bags needed changing, monitors needed reading. The bodies needed to be taken care of. Rogue had taken special care of tending to Mr. McCoy. It had been frightening to see him roar and bellow like a savage beast when he was really a gentle old soul. She wished he was awake, wished to hear his reasonable explainations to the heinous occurances in their world. Thinking of that only made her miss Logan. She feared for his life as well as for the Professor and Storm. What had happened to them? The what-ifs would drive her mad.
An aroma of cooking food drifted from the kitchen. Rogue realized last night's dinner had been disrupted. Her stomach growled but wasn't sure if it could handle being filled. As she entered the kitchen she saw Jean stirring a pot at the stove and Kurt sitting on the counter talking on the phone.
"Veally?" he was saying. He laughed weakly, "Thanks Jubes, I need to hear zhat... Yes...ve all are...but ve'll be all vight...Yeah, I know. At least I still have Jean and Rogue. Have you gone to see Bobby and Sam? Same condition, huh. I talked to Kitty a few minutes ago. She's scared but fine. Her parents aren't letting her out of the house..."
Rogue grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and sat at the table. She took tiny sips as Jean continued to cook. She suddenly felt tired.
"I like the look, Rogue," Jean said softly. She set a basket of dinner rolls on the table and sat down beside her. "You look pretty like that. Your eyes show more."
"Thanks," was all Rogue could think to say.
Jean looked tired. Her perfect hair was unbrushed and hung in wispy thin locks. Her usually bright green eyes had lost their glow and slight circles could be seen under them. She massaged her face with her hands and released a somnolent breath. "I'm making beef stew," she said. "You guys like the meat soft, right? It'll need to simmer for a bit. Oh, I forgot the butter." She got up and walked to the refrigerator.
Rogue saw what she was doing, keeping her hands busy so her mind could not wander too much.
"Why don't I make something more solid, too?" Jean asked no one in particular. "Soup is very...not solid...and maybe we need something sturdy right now. Maybe some meatloaf or stirfry. Jubilee sure could cook a mean stirfry. I loved the way she mixed soy sauce and olive oil. Such exotic tastes." She found the butter and set it on counter. Then she returned to staring into the fridge. "Wish Bobby was here to make us some ice smoothies. We don't even have any ice cream left. And Amara knew how to bake old-fashioned Nova Roman bread. Loved that. And...um..." She sniffed, rubbed her eyes. "And Ororo made those African dishes every once in a while...they tasted weird at first but then it grows on you..." She took a shaky breath and calmed herself. She closed the refrigerator and lifted the lid off the pot of stew. She stirred it.
Seeing her sadness, her worry, reminded Rogue of the things she was feeling. She would rather bury those emotions so they couldn't affect her, couldn't make her the way they were making Jean. The psyches were quieter now having sensed the dire situation. Instead of screaming at Rogue they merely gave cautioned whispers, urgent mutters.
She'll come again, we must be careful.
You can't let her take us. We don't want to leave that way.
Please, please, I'm so scared. Oh, God, I'm so scared.
Kurt hung up finally and took a stretch. He scratched his head and pulled his knees up to his chest as he continued to sit on the counter. "Vell, I've called everyone. They all know vhat's up." He looked at the girls, his only remaining companions. "Vhat's for dinner?"
"Beef stew and rolls," Jean said from the stove. "Unless you want something more solid?"
"Beef stew and volls sounds good," Kurt said, moving to sit with Rogue at the table. He twiddled his triplet fingers, yellow eyes staring at the movement. Then his head popped up and he looked around. "Hey, vhere's Gambit?"
Rogue stiffened. Jean said, "I never knew that guy could cook such great Cajun food. You guys had his jumbalaya that night. Wasn't it good?"
"Yes, it vas, actually," Kurt agreed.
Rogue's hand tightened around her soda can. The aluminum crinkled in her clutch. "He left," she gritted.
Kurt turned to look at her, "He did? Vithout even telling us?"
Rogue nodded, a disdainful smirk playing over her hard features. "Yup. But what else can we expect, right? He is a thief and Acolyte, after all."
"I thought you liked him, Rogue," Jean said, rummaging around the cupboards for bowls. "You guys seemed to be on friendly terms this past week." It was a little disconcerting to see how she spoke without any expression on her face. Maybe her muscles were too tired to work.
Rogue began to wonder how much stiffer her own body could get. "Well, ya thought wrong, Red. He's just a no-good, unappreciative, reckless swamp rat that doesn't give a damn about anybody but himself."
Kurt frowned, "He didn't even thank us for helping him. Vhat a jerk."
"Couldn't agree more," Rogue nodded. She took a long gulp of soda, feeling the carbonated liquid burn her throat. She drank again, wishing it would scald her, wishing it would burn away her fear, doubt, and confusion.
After the soup was done Jean ladled them each a bowl. She handed them spoons then sat down and began spreading butter over a dinner roll. They ate tiny bites in thick silence. Then Kurt said, "Ve need a plan."
"Plan for what?" Jean asked.
"For anything! Find the Professor, help the others. Something..." He did not seem so sure and stared at his stew. "Ve can't just sit around like this and vait for it to come back and finish us off."
"Don't say things like that, Kurt," Jean murmured. "There's hope at least. I was attacking it with psychic blasts and it seemed to be affected. I'll be ready the next time. I'll be ready."
"How is Lance?" Kurt wanted to know.
None of them had wanted to acknowledge his weakening condition. His body was slowly failing, the IVs and care unable to bolster his health. It was the after effect of the coma, the next stage, the irreversible state.
"He's still...resting," Jean said carefully. "I've been monitoring them all and, uh..." Her discomfort was obvious. "The earlier ones...they're getting weaker."
Rogue sat quietly contemplating as she spooned stew into her mouth, half listening to her friends' discussion. She was supposed to care about Amara, Hank, Tabitha, and Scott--even Wanda and Lance to some degree. She should have been hanging onto their every word. But she wasn't--because she couldn't--because all her thoughts revolved around one undependable, ammoral, uncaring Acolyte who would do the very things expected of him. Drop everything without even a "bye", "thank you", or "I'll miss you" and disappear. Just gone. So simple. So expectable.
Didn't they at least understand each other, at least have a worthy friendship at this point? Hadn't the night on the roof meant anything? What about the day he sat at her bedside and they had such a wholesome conversation? And their night out at dinner? Or had she just imagined the strange sparks. Had it all been of her own conceiving? Wouldn't be the first time to walk out for a snake-charmer like him anyway. Girls fell all over him, willingly. Jubilee did, Amara did, Rahne did, even Jean to some extent. And they didn't mean anything to him. The femmes were never more than temporary pleasures to be discarded. Why should she be any different. She was a waste of time because of her skin. Her poisonous skin...
Sometimes hope is all y'have. What if the hope was false?
"Rogue."
Do y'hate y'self, Rogue? No. Maybe. Yes.
"Rogue, your bowl is empty." Jean looked at her curiously, spoon half raised in the air. "Do you want me to get you more stew?"
"Oh," she said blankly. She looked down at the empty concave, hardly believing she'd eaten it all. There hadn't been much to begin with and she did not feel satisfied in the least. She didn't really care. "No, Ah'm fine. Actually, Ah think Ah'm gonna go for a walk."
Kurt's mouth was full of bread. "Vhat? At night, by yourzelf? It's not safe, Rogue. Lemme go vith you vhen I'm done."
"No, it's fine," Rogue frowned. "Ya don't need to." Before he could protest she left the kitchen and stalked through the halls. She pulled open the front doors and burst out into the night, breathing in the cool air. The summer was not as warm as usual, the weather as tweaked as her life. She shivered as she walked down the steps and sat down at the bottom. She hugged her knees.
So this was what it had come to. She was alone, as usual. Jean and Kurt were apart from her, as much as she hated to admit it. She sighed, closed her eyes. Disappointment during the early stages was always better. It was a good thing it happened before her expectations became too high.
It was a very good thing.
Right.
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Just to clarify a few points, Remy isn't being an abandoning jerk or anything. He has this instinct you see, and being the type of person he is, he follows his instincts. It is those gut intuitions that lead him through life, and more of than not, help him make the right decisions.
As for Rogue, well, I'd just feel like crap if I was her. I would feel abandoned--wouldn't you? But she's a tough gal, had to deal with a whole lot at a young age. She's older than her years and it's this maturity that pulls her through. But the tough moments are just beginning. We'll see if she can withstand the pressure.
And so we leave on a less-than-pleasant, bittersweet, and angst-filled note. But don't despair just yet, because it only gets worse from here on out. LOL, I'm sorry. I think I really am some sort of masochist.
As for the sequel I mentioned earlier, I know it's kind of early to even be thinking of one but from the way this story is going to conclude, I'm pretty sure everybody would be really peeved if there wasn't one. I really have to stop hinting at things. But God, I can't help it! There's just so much!!
Completely off-topic: You guys hear of what happened with Jean Grey, Scott Summers, and Emma Frost in the comic X-Men? Oh my God, what's wrong with those Marvel people?? I don't want to say too much b/c of spoiling purposes, but GOD, if you know what I'm talking about then you know how heinous it is. Jean and Scott are supposed to be the parable of consistency and devotion and then all this...ick...I'm not exactly gung-ho about Jean and Scott but it's the ideals that matter. I really dislike Emma Frost now. I never really did like her--her and Warren Worthington. For some reason they get on my nerves. I think I'll just have to take it out in my fanficitions.
Anyway, better go before I hurt something.
Next Chapter: Dreamscape