Hey all, I know I complain about this a lot but GOD, times are so busy. Seriously, there are moments when I feel like screaming even while I'm surrounded by people. But all my college apps are in, so I have to sit and wait for the replies. Ugh, that...ugh--just don't think about it! Right? At least I can do that bc I don't really have to do anything...whatever...
This story is my escape. --exhaling slowly-- And just to let everybody know, it's not going to be over for a few chapters yet.
Ishandahalf: Aren't we all suckers for the Rogue/Remy goodness...sigh...I'm thinking more on the sides of angst than fluff, but I don't want to make you nervous or anything. I keep forgetting you're a college student, must be a hell of a lot of work. Ugh, I don't even want to think about it all! Ms. Rogue LeBeau: Have you been keeping up? It sort of hinted that Rogue has control of her powers, otherwise she wouldn't be able to touch or land the plane. It'll be explained later, though. The Romyness is very delayed. Gotta build up the angst, first! Freak87: I always wanted Jean to yell at Scott--something to actually shake up that freakishly perfect relationship. As for the scrubs, I must admit, I like scrubs--but Lance, Amara, and Scott are technically supposed to still be resting. Hmm, never really thought about making them change. Assasinkitty: hi there and thanks. Always nice to have a new reader. Hope you like this chapter. X2P3: I might not even do a summary of Rogue telling what happened--that'd be so redundant, b/c, well, duh, everybody who's read this already knows. Maybe I'll do it the way they do it in movies, cut the scene but the reader will still know what happened--get what I mean? Well, somehow it'll work out! Oh, and thanks. Gothic Cajun: Hmm, I don't recall a Mouse Cheddar, but glad she recommended me, too, haha. Really, gory? Hmm, bloody maybe, but I don't think it's too gory. Flowerperson: Oh, don't worry. I can't possibly kill off any X-Men at this point. Hmm, maybe in the sequel. My plans, well, can't disclose that information! Sweety8587: I forget what the Funky Chicken looks like...oh, wait, I remember now, and I'm picturing it and it's making me chortle....hahaha. I was wondering if there's even such a thing as exterior decorators when I wrote that in, hmm. Everybody wants the Romyness! Phew, it's tempting, but we must have some angstful suffering first. That's me. ;) Flame31: Keep reading. I think this story can still get better and it's far from being over. Kendokao: Scott's such a nice guy, he's so cute, he's so handsome, he's such a wonderfully talented and strong leader and I love him--gag. Omg, how funny it would be if I really believed all that! Imagine this story starring Scott, hahaha. I don't think telepaths can help being empathetic bc they're...telepathic, yes? Dunno... Yeah, hugs would be good. Enchanted light: thank you! Soon enough? Always four words, but I always have to reply. Allie: Oh, I've met some hollow people, girl, and you're not one of 'em--Lord, the empty-headedness people are capable of! Like my friend Maria--she has no soul, I swear. She's a robot. It's frightening. Oh, I'm so touched that you went through so much trouble to read my story! It's not necessary to do that, though. I'd be glad to personally email chapters to you if need be. Fudgebrowne: I'm just like you, love the sadness, love the trouble--why do you think I wrote this story the way I did? We're all a bunch of masochists. That's a wonderful word by the way. Obsidian Hearts: Cool penname, has a certain ring. What does WEHO stand for? SickmindedSucker: Man, you're very vivid, you know that? I guess that gives reason to your penname! LOL. But yeah, they're all back, but as you'll see, everything is not peachily wonderful. Totally Obsessed47: School takes up soooo much time, makes me want to quit. I remember the summer when I first started this fic--so nice, just mosying around, relaxing while taping away the story on this laptop. Sigh, the good ole days. Now it's rush rush rush! Cd lover: hmm, I was in the mood for a cookie, thanks. Not so sure about the X23 deal, haven't really thought about her much, but we'll see. There's always possibilities. And the Morlocks will receive mention. Now I just have to make a note of that before I forget... Lady Godiva: I am so touched that you found my story worthy enough to read it all through one sitting--that must have taken some effort! Your poor eyes...but I'm glad you think it's worth it. Thank you thank you thank you, you're too kind. Love your pen name by the way. Are you a fan of the chocolate? Never really experienced enough of it myself to make a sound judgment. Possesser of the X Gene: snappy pen name! I really like it. You know, I read your review way after the others and I was feeling quite down, but you seriously cheered me up, so thanks. I love the wows, I think they're a big reason. :-) You read the whole thing all at once, too? Wow, thanks for doing that. It's very long. Hope your eyes are okay. ;-) I try to make the characters stay true to character; I'm so sick of seeing people mess them up to a disgustingly cheesey degree. I do good to the accents, too, huh, never knew. Haha, not many liked the idea of Remy getting shot, but I did. Oops, that was evil, but hey, works perfect for my purposes. I'll have to check out Muse and their songs. I've been looking for soundtrack-ish songs to this fic. I mentioned the other mutants as a sort of sneakpeak at how they'll be involved in the sequel--Lorna, Trish Tilby--or maybe not. Hmm, I'll see. And oh God, please, I would insult interminably insult myself if I were to turn Rogue into a mopey, heart-broken little girl. I mean, God, she's one tough mutant, been through so much crap and still kicking, so obviously her skin's thick enough to take whatever comes. I'm never going to make her turn into jelly in my fics, hell no. Workin' on that Sinister/Essex originality--I've seen it done to death in bad ways so I'm brainstorming. Have some interesting ideas so far. Check in often! Queen Narca: I know this was a belated update, hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. But waiting makes the meeting sweeter, right? Probably not, I just made that up. Anna Marie Raven: funny, your name is Rogue's name, heh. Yeah, it's going to end soon, but we've got a few chapters yet. Old problems are solved and new ones are found. Check it out in this chapter.
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"Agh, hate hospital settings. Can ye believe we've been snoozin' here for, what, a week? Blimey..."
Piotr stood at the foot of the bed, stern eyes watching as John fiddled with the equipment surrounding their sleeping friend. "I do not think you should be tampering with those things," he said.
John shrugged, "Always was curious how these gadgets worked. How's a little bleepin' line supposed to tell whether Gambit's heart ain't spasing out?" He scratched his head, nose wrinkled in contemplation.
Piotr rolled his eyes and continued perusing the room. He had never seen such state-of-the-art health care devices anywhere in his life. Russia sure lacked these luxuries. He sighed as his thoughts lingered upon home, upon a sister and family he had needed to leave. He would not have noticed the movement in his peripheral without the training from years of fighting. He turned around.
A young woman stood at the doorway, dressed in hospital attire and looking confused. Her stunning green eyes stared at Gambit, piercing and bewildered, sad and questioning. They snapped up suddenly, locked with Piotr's. Without a word she spun around, white-streaked auburn hair fluttering about a pale, porcelain face. Like a vision she was gone and Piotr frowned in confusion.
A groan sounded from the prostrated form.
"Sleeping Beauty's wakin' up!" John exclaimed.
Remy winced from the noise. His ears seemed uncannily susceptible to sound. Blips and clicks from the surrounding monitors vibrated loudly along his eardrums. When he tried to sit up, his limbs would not obey command. The weakness of his body fast became irksome.
John grabbed a chair and sat with his legs straddling the back support. "Feelin' woozy, mate?"
"He is heavily drugged," Piotr deduced. "Can you speak, Gambit?"
Remy struggled to adjust himself to the familiar, but unexpected surroundings. Finally he asked hoarsely, "Is she okay?"
Piotr thought of the power-stealing Rogue, though he didn't understand why. John shot him a confused look, "Who?"
Remy blinked. What did they mean who? Who else? He suddenly realized where he was and to whom he was speaking. The events of the past few weeks slowly returned to him--the heist--Julien and the Assassins--the ghost--the Xavier Insitute--Farrat--Annabel-- Rogue. The very last thing he remembered from the plane was the gun aimed at Rogue and the sight of her sad, pleading green eyes. Pain, too. A lot of that.
"Sorry," he muttered groggily. He slowly, painfully, pulled himself to a sitting position. "Still haven't woken up from dis dream I'm havin'..."
John wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, "Ah, 'bout a sheila, mate? What's her name?"
"Can't remember."
"I think ye lyin'."
"That is not important," Piotr said, crossing his arms. "We should be discussing how it is you have managed to get yourself so injured again, Gambit."
"M'luck must be runnin' low dese days," he sighed. He grimaced when his movement stretched the wounded areas. Peering under his shirt, he caught the familiar sight of red-splotched white bandages.
Piotr scoffed, "If anything you have more luck than you probably should, how you always manage to test it. John and I have been waiting patiently here of you to awake so you can--"
"Tin Can, ye gotta learn to cut to the chase," John interrupted. "What's the beef, Gumbo--why do I have lil' memories of some freaky sheila floating around my head?"
"S'a long story," Remy said. He really did not feel up to explaining. For the moment the story seemed too complex for him to comprehend, even if he had been at the heart of it all.
"Ye ain't goin' anywhere."
Guttural throat clearing sounded behind them. Piotr and John turned towards the doorway and saw a massive blue-furred doctor with a raised eyebrow.
"De good ole' McCoy," Remy said and leaned back into the pillows.
Hank entered the room carrying a clipboard. "It's nice to see that Remy has caring friends, but he needs to rest."
"We're just talkin'," John rolled his eyes. "How much energy does he need to--"
"Apologies, Doctor," Pitor said. He grabbed John by the collar and tugged him towards the door. "We'll return later, Gambit." He dragged his squirming companion from the patient area and out of the Med Bay.
An uncharacteristic smirk played across Hank's face as he began the usual routine of checking vital signs. "It has been quite interesting seeing the students' reaction to the presence of your friends," he said.
Remy laughed dryly, "I can believe dat."
"Up, please," Hank said.
Remy lifted his arm slightly as the polyester cuff was wrapped around his bicep. The cuff swelled with air and he felt the pressure building to mild discomfort.
"The surgery went well, as you can probably see," Hank said. He recorded the blood pressure and unwrapped the cuff. Putting away the materials, he added, "However, since these are bullet wounds, you'll most likely be feeling an increase of pain once the morphine wears off."
Remy grimaced.
"But not to worry. I have plenty of Vicodin on hand for your dispense."
"Nice t'know y'such a willin' supplier o'narcotics, Doc."
Hank frowned heavily with disapproval, "Drug addictions are no joking matter, Mr. LeBeau." Then he shrugged and smiled pleasantly, "Still, it is good to see that you're not too wounded to crack jokes."
"Sense o'humor's all I got," Remy sighed. He had meant to sound light-hearted, but the words landed flat on his tongue. It had been nice to wake up to Piotr's stern placidity and John's loony wits--still, he felt rather...forgotten.
"I am sure you have more than that," Hank said. He continued reading monitors and scribbling notes while Remy sat brooding. "For instance," he said after a few moments, "you seemed to have gained some of the students' favor."
"Quoi?" Remy frowned curiously.
"Why, as Jean and Kurt relayed their traumas to us, they spoke rather highly of you." Hank adjusted the IV drip and said, "Your presence aided the situation, it seems." He smiled optimistically, "Not to mention Rogue. Roberto and Ray informed us that upon finding her, the first thing she said was 'help him'. I take that to be you?" He stopped to jot a few more figures onto the clipboard. He then switched off the head monitor and pulled the nose tube out of Remy's nostrils. "It seems you've gained a devoted friend."
Remy only nodded, tried not to feel so touched. "How is she by de way?"
"Perfect physical health from what I can tell."
"Meaning she ain't okay otherwise?" Worry etched at his insides. Annabel was a telepath--did something happen during his blackout?
Hank pressed the eraser of his pencil to his furry chin. "Rogue never was an excessively sociable girl. Sad, really--she has much to offer. But she's been rather reclusive this morning, more so than usual. I assume it is because Annabel Velkonnen suffered such an untimely death."
Remy felt like somebody just socked him in the gut. "Annabel died? How?"
"Suicide. She leapt out of the plane." Hank shook his head lamentably. "At least, that's what has been deduced. We'll have more concrete information once Rogue is willing to talk about it. I'm very concerned about her. She is not one to become sentimental...but this has affected her more than I would have predicted."
"She'll be fine," Remy assured him, not completely believing the words himself.
"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Hank said. "I only wonder at what cost."
Remy frowned.
"In the past she's been reluctant to ask for help, even when she knows she needs it," Hank shook his head again. "Oh, but let's not dwell on these issues. It does not feel appropriate to be discussing Rogue in her absence."
Remy nodded. Now, more than ever, he was worried about what happened. Dieu, Annabel had jumped. She killed herself--but why? He remembered her angered sadness, her suffocating distress. Her desire to be free and to live was so strong that he could not believe she could throw it away. Unless... Unless she thought there was no hope.
"All o'dis sucks," he heard himself saying
The childish statement incited a chuckle for Hank. "Not everything is so bad. Time heals all wounds, after all." His expression then became serious, "Now, despite how I believe you will not listen I am going to tell you anyway: don't engage in any strenuous activities so soon after injury."
Remy smirked.
"I doubt your body would appreciate another Danger Room session at this point, especially since these are bullet wounds." Hank raised his eyebrow knowingly. "Post-surgery, Remy. It's a big deal."
"'Course, Doc."
Hank nodded, "Well then, I will leave you to recuperate." As he turned towards the door, he tossed over his shoulder, "It seems you've managed to weasle yourself more time here at the Institute, Mr. LeBeau."
"What can I say, love de pamperin'."
Hank chuckled, "Yes, and besides, I am certain no one would even mind a prolonged residence." He walked through the automated glass doors and disappeared into his office. Remy was left with much to think about.
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She paced the dark and quiet lounge, wracked with indecision. He was there, she knew, but whether she should go see him, she could not resolve.
The Med Bay was presently devoid of people, a stark contrast to its previous bustling atmosphere. Her footsteps seemed to echo along the shadowed walls, a cacophonous discord to her sensitive ears. Every few minutes she would walk towards the glass doors then turn around and back away, only to approach them again. Why was it so hard? She had no reason to be nervous. Things were fine between them, the last time she checked. She was being over-dramatic. Or maybe she wasn't being dramatic enough.
She growled irritably. Worrying so much sure could make a girl ornery.
The door to Hank's office opened and he stepped out, adjusting the spectacles on his nose. He gave a start, "Why, hello. Pacing about in the dark, are we?" He smiled pleasantly and switched on the lights.
"Oh, didn't realize it was..." She smiled sheepishly.
"How are you feeling?" Hank asked.
"Fine..." Her eyes flicked involuntarily towards the doors. "Mr. McCoy, how is he?"
Hank stared at her blankly, unsure of whom she was referring to. Then his eyebrows shot up and he nodded, "Ah, yes, the resting patient. He's weak but speedily recovering."
She nodded, "That's good."
"Would you like to see him?" Hank ushered her towards the doors. "He'll be glad for your company." Waving her off encouragingly, he turned and left the Med Bay.
She was alone again. Forcing her reluctant feet to move, she was one step closer to him with each passing second. God, if only she would stop being so nervous! She was usually more confident, but it was always the same thing around him...quickened heartbeats, easy blushes, jittery nerves. She mashed her lips together in frustration. The rationale behind her unease was nonexistant. There was no reason to behave differently. No reason at all.
But he could have died.
The thought alone sent unwelcome chills up her spine. It upset her beyond words to think she might never see him again. He could have died. She could be attending his funeral this very moment, wracked with sobs and blinded from tears...
Oh, stop it, she snapped at herself.
She was upon him before she even realized it. Standing two feet away from his bed, her vocal cords froze and she did not know how to greet him. Immediately, she wished she had brought something--food, coffee, or maybe cookies. She almost laughed at the thought while she began to fidget.
His back was to her, sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the bed. He seemed in deep concentration, tying the cords of his robe.
She found her voice after immense concentration, "Hi." Quickened heartbeats, easy blushes, jittery nerves.
Surprised, Lance spun around. His eyes widened at seeing her and he quickly looked down. "Oh--hi, I'm just..." Tying a knot suddenly became very difficult. His fingers got stuck and he untied the entire thing to start over. As he attacked the loops, his face turned a slight shade of pink. Finally he just gave up and let his hands rest on his knees.
Kitty subtly fiddled with the hem of her blouse. "Um...how are you?" she asked.
"Fine...you?"
"Fine." Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to see him so soon.
Lance refused to meet her gaze. He continued to sit with his back to her, turning his head to acknowledge her presence. He blew some hair out of his eyes and scratched his arm.
Kitty wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. She could not figure out why things were so awkward. Sure, they hadn't exactly broken up on good terms but it had been a mutual decision. No hard feelings--at least, there shouldn't have been. "I..." What was she was going to say? God, this was awful. "Uh, Wanda got a call from Pietro a few minutes ago."
Lance almost looked at her, "Yeah? Funny, I didn't even think of them when I woke up. Where they been?"
"They skipped town after you were, like...attacked," Kitty carefully phrased. "But they'll be back in maybe a couple days."
"Some friends," Lance huffed. "I think I get why the X-Men always win the battles."
"It was pretty scary, what was happening. They were probably just too spooked."
"You guys were scared, but none of you bailed."
Kitty huffed, "No, we were just dragged away by our parents." She was still slightly bitter about it, remembering the arguments she'd had with her mother and father. Then the night came when it was her turn. She shivered though the memory was faded and worn, like a newspaper with blotched ink and illegible words.
"Did it happen to you, too?" Lance asked quietly.
Kitty nodded, "But I don't, like, remember much of it."
"Me neither. I mean, I was just watching TV when, I think, this smoky thing came out of it like in that one movie? With the hair all over her face and kind of...I don't know. I just remember my head hurt a hell of a lot."
"Me, too."
Silence. Kitty bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted him to say something sincere, something to show that he cared. He was being so strangely indifferent, almost like he was annoyed that she disturbed him. Suddenly, she couldn't take the tension anymore and blurted, "Listen, I know we broke off kinda bad, but I don't want to be all, like, cold and awkward around you. We should just...I don't know...we..." She lost her steam, forgot what her point even was in the first place.
Lance remained silent and unmoving. He stared placidly at the floor.
Jerk, Kitty wanted to say, but thought better of it. "Okay...well, just wanted to see how you were..." She turned to leave. After going four paces, she heard him say something. She turned around half-way, watching him in her peripheral.
Lance frowned, glowered at his hands. "I'm sorry I disappointed you, Kitty."
She didn't know how to react.
"It's...not easy for some people to...change."
She nodded, "I know. And it's okay."
"Was good while it lasted, though," Lance said. He finally met her gaze, one corner of his mouth curling up half-heartedly.
Kitty could only manage a contrite smile. "Yeah," she agreed. The blue of her eyes clouded over with memories. Blinking, she shook her head and looked at him. "Well, guess I'll, like, see you around, Lance."
"Yeah, see you around."
Kitty's feet carried her reluctantly away. She walked in a placid daze, knowing nothing cataclysmic had happened but feeling as if her emotions had been put to their limits. Part of her wanted him to stay at the Institute and never leave; part of her wanted to be with him again. But even as such fantasies crossed her mind, she knew them to be impractical. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.
Once she was out of the Med Bay, she could breathe easier. Life would go on after Lance left. In the meantime, she was going to need a lot of activity to keep her mind occupied. Kitty rubbed her eyes and tightened her ponytail. Heading down the hall, she went to find the others.
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Ororo set the phone in its cradle with a sort of gentle benevolence. A smile lit her cocoa-colored face as she sat upon the living room couch. She lifted a cup of tea to her berry-red lips and drew a dainty sip.
"The verdict?" Xavier asked.
"Rahne's parents are bringing her back tomorrow," Ororo informed him. "I have managed to convince them that she will receive the best, most personal care here at the Institute. They say she is very weak but the doctors have no reason to believe she won't recover to full health.
"Jamie's parents remain implacable. They're rather paranoid about the security of our school." She lowered her eyes and drank more tea.
Xavier sighed. Logan huffed, "They should be."
"Something troubling you?" Ororo asked.
"What isn't?"
Ororo paused for a moment, blinked. "I suppose there are many things to trouble us... But there are also many things to comfort us." She stood from the couch and approached the ceiling-to-floor window. From that vantage point came a perfect view of the backyard. Moving about the twigs and bramble of broken flora, the students worked to clear away the crash-landed jet. "Our X-Men have more than proven themselves these past few weeks."
"Indeed," Xavier said. He massaged his temples, eyes closed in deep thought. When he opened them he turned to Logan and asked, "Has Rogue said anything to you, about what happened?"
"Said that she didn't want to talk about it," Logan muttered. He rubbed his knuckles out of habit. "Must've been something big for her to shut everything out again."
"Yes, Rogue prides herself in strength and tenacity," Xavier said, thinking back to times when the girl took much of her own initiative, when she never asked for help even when she most needed it. "I would not be surprised if she were to keep everything in for the sake of making everyone else think all is well."
Logan began cracking his knuckles. "It's that Cajun. He's got something to do with all this."
"Without a doubt," Xavier agreed, "though I believe it's safer to say he had a more positive than negative impact."
"Why you think that, Chuck?"
"A feeling and a hint," Xavier replied, thinking of Jean's previous words. "We will summon Rogue in due time. Meanwhile, it would be gracious of us to aid the students in clean-up."
Ororo nodded, setting down her tea. "Lead the way, Charles."
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It was one of those summer days described in books, ones with crisply fresh breezes and golden solar rays, pure azure skies and bubbly avian chortles. The beauty of the day heavily contrasted the havoc of the plane crash. Admist tattered bushes and uprooted trees, the students of the Xavier Institute utilized their mutant abilities to clear the wreckage. Tabitha shot up from her kneeling position near the broken left wing. "Fire in the hole!" she shouted, sprinting away from close proximity.
Forewarned, everyone took cover. Not twenty seconds later, a loud explosion shook the trees as Tabitha's cherry bombs exploded. The chaotic jumble of sheered metal and twisted branches blew apart into moveable chunks. As the smoke cleared and debris ceased showering, the X-Men continued the excavation. Roberto stood atop the jet's cockpit, soaking up solar energy. As he resumed his fiery demonic form, he darted to ground level and did much of the heavy lifting alongside Hank; Kurt ported here and there, carrying away debris and garbage quicker than anybody; mangled branches and jagged shards of metal floated about the air, lifted by Jean's telepathy; Kitty phased Wanda and Jubilee into the interior of the jet, coming back out with any salvageable supplies; Logan sliced away sheets of the craft to be carried away by Storm; Sam, Bobby, and Ray had all gone shirtless from the waist up as they worked, the sun beating upon their strong, youthful bodies.
Amara and Scott stood outside of the work site boundaries. Since Hank would not allow them strenuous physical exertion, they settled with transporting the recyclable materials by way of pull wagons and carts.
"You know," Amara said as she watched her friends work, "I never realized how hot those three can look."
Scott raised an eyebrow at her, "Sam, Bobby, and Ray?"
"Yeah! I mean, jeez, look at them!" Amara nearly gushed. "They're so lean and tanned you'd never think they've spent all this time in comas."
Scott cleared his throat and re-positioned the thick sheet of reinforced aluminum on the cart. "That's nice, Amara, now why don't you help me push this inside--"
"Oh, you're not that weak, Scott," the girl said, eyes still glued on her teammates. "Push it in yourself."
Bobby noticed Amara's admiring gaze and flashed her a charming smile, a flirty wink.
She blushed and Scott rolled his eyes.
Kitty approached just then, Wanda and Jubilee trailing behind. Each girl carried an armload of reusable equipment: parachutes, oxygen masks, seat cushions, vomit bags, ect cetera. "And to think that all this stuff would've, like, gone to waste if we didn't pick it up," Kitty said. She and the others dumped their findings into the boxes on the cart.
"Are you really going to reuse all this junk?" Wanda asked.
Scott nodded, "Absolutely. There isn't a more efficient way to get rid of this mess. And besides, we have to utilize all of our resources so we don't waste anything that may be potentially helpful. We can use the metal to repair our electronics, frayed wires, or even add broken parts to the heli-jet and X-jet if we wanted to. Plus..." He frowned, trailing off as he realized Wanda was no longer listening.
"Don't you think so?" Amara was saying to her. "I mean, they're probably not your type but..."
Wanda narrowed her eyes, a scarlet-nailed hand going to her chin. "No, I can see what you mean. And it sure as hell beats eyeing a skinny narcissist, a slobby pig, and a slimy toad."
Amara giggled at Wanda's wit while Scott rolled his eyes again. Kitty chuckled agreeably. Her gaiety ended when she caught a familiar figure standing near the patio door. Amara and Wanda continued discussing the boys while Scott attempted to get them back to work. Kitty slipped away unnoticed and entered the kitchen.
Rogue had moved from the glass door and was slowly heading out. "It's my mess," she said, "and other people are cleaning it up."
Kitty frowned, unsure of what to think about her comment. It seemed to have sprung from out of nowhere, unbidden and spontaneous. "What?" She followed her into the hall, through the doors of the darkened parlor. The curtains were drawn and the fireplace burned a low, ashy flame.
Rogue massaged her left temple as she lowered herself into a plush armchair. "My fault, my mistake," she mumbled. "Ah should have helped her. It's my fault. Ah should have done something..." She shook her head and grimaced. Her eyes suddenly focused, the vivid green almost brightening. "Kit--hey."
"Rogue, is everything okay?" Kitty asked. She approached with an expression of concern on her pleasant features, her blue eyes narrowed with worry.
"Annabel had eyes like yours," Rogue murmured. She looked at her gloved hands. "Except they were paler. Almost looked like ice...but she wasn't a cold person inside. Neither was her uncle. They were just...unlucky. Very, very unlucky."
Kitty knelt by the arm of the chair, hands resting upon the cushions. She tilted her head up towards Rogue in quiet attention.
"She shouldn't've died, Kit," Rogue said. An angry gleam flashed through her eyes for a moment, dissipating as she voiced her next thought, "It's not fair that she died. All she wanted was a life." Her words held latent pains, but her voice was frighteningly monotonous and void of emotion. "Ah should have helped her." She grimaced again, as if remembering something unpleasant. Squeezing her eyes shut, she muttered, "Ah could have stopped her from falling. Ah could have helped her... It's my mess. They shouldn't have to clean it up--it's my mess." She shook her head and exclaimed in exasperation, "Damn it! Ah can't tell them apart..."
Kitty gave a start, eyes widening, "Tell what apart? The memories, psyches? Are they bothering you again?"
Rogue stared at her, bewildered, "What? No--the psyches don't bother me anymore. They're not real. Ah have to remember they're not real...Annabel said so." She frowned, eyebrows scrunching with uncertainty. "But why...Ah don't understand...and Ah remember the girl--woman--whatever...Remy's memories...oh God..." She buried her face in her hands. "She fell..."
"Annabel?"
"So did Genny..."
Kitty lowered her voice to softer tones, "Who's Genny?"
Rogue's fingers slowly folded aside as she gazed at Kitty. Slowly, she shook her head.
"These are, like, Remy's memories?" Kitty asked, trying to make sense of Rogue's seemingly random babble.
Kitty wondered just how much had happened between Rogue and Gambit since she left. She remembered the cookie incident and the strange tension, but nothing to suggest anything more. "Did anything, like...new come up with you guys?"
Rogue seemed hesitant to say. When she spoke, her voice was heavy, "Yeah...he said...we..." She did not know how to tell Kitty. Subjects concerning her personal life had never aroused much discussion in the past--mainly because she didn't ever have much of a personal life to begin with. "Ah can touch," she suddenly blurted.
Kitty's eyes widened, "What??"
Slowly, Rogue slid the gloves off her hands. Her skin, pale and soft, seemed translucent in the weak lighting. She lifted her fingers and gently took hold of Kitty's hand. "Annabel did it," she said hoarsely. "Ah don't know how, but somehow she did it and now..." She withdrew her hands, pulled the gloves back on. "Now Ah'm confused."
Kitty quickly recovered from her initial shock. "My God, Rogue!" she gawked. "This is, like, it's so--it's so great! You can finally--I mean, wow! Why aren't you happy? It's what you've always wanted!"
Rogue shook her head, wishing things could be that simple.
The giddy excitement began to fade as Kitty watched her friend. Softly, she asked, "Why do you still wear gloves?" When a shrug replied, she continued to prod, "What exactly happened with Gambit?" She received no real answer, but Rogue's reaction provided all the necessary hints. Kitty observed the slight flush of her pale cheeks, the warm twinkle in her green eyes. She saw the infinitesimal curve of her mouth. "Did you guys...touch?"
Rogue did not reply, did not move, did not blink.
Kitty felt the beginnings of a smile pulling at her lips. "He kissed you," she said, with a soft, knowing tone. "Is it serious?"
Rogue suddenly released a dry laugh. "Serious?" she echoed incredulously. "How can anything be serious with me? Ah knew what she was thinking, what she was feelin', and Ah didn't care--Ah just used her..." She bit her lip, a hand going to her temple. "Ah used her...and when Ah was done, she paid for it. She paid for it..." She frowned, furiously trying to make sense of the jumbled memories. It was difficult blocking out the emotions, the self-loathing, the yearning for unattainable penance.
Disliking the forlorn turn of conversation, Kitty could not help but feel slightly chafed. She had no idea what Rogue was talking about, and Rogue was more than unwilling to explain. Hadn't they just been talking about kissing and touch? Why couldn't they stick to the cheerful subjects? Drawing a breath, Kitty asked patiently, "Rogue, please, I have no idea what you're, like, talking about. Who is 'she' and what do Gambit's memories have to do with anything...." Her eyes widened in sudden realization, "Unless he did something to this Genny?"
Rogue's brow furrowed so deeply, Kitty began to think there had never been a more austere frown.
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
Without warning, Rogue jolted from her seat. "Ah gotta go," she said.
Kitty jumped back, climbing onto her feet. She grabbed Rogue's arm, "Hold on a sec! You haven't explained anything!"
"Why should Ah have to?" Rogue snapped, twisting her arm away.
Hurt by the malicious tone, Kitty took a step back. "You don't. I just thought...we're friends, Rogue. You can tell me what's bothering you." She squirmed slightly under Rogue's disparaging stare, wishing she would show more trust. "And I haven't been around for a while so...I thought you might wanna, like, talk..."
Rogue sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Ah know, Ah just...Ah don't really know what's going on myself."
"Maybe you should talk to Gambit."
Rogue cringed.
"Why not?" Kitty wanted to know.
"Because...Ah'm afraid of what he'll tell me."
Kitty remained silent, not knowing what to say. If Rogue was so afraid of facing the problem, it had to be a serious one. "What do you think he did?"
"Ah don't know," Rogue murmured. "Ah don't wanna know."
"Maybe you should," Kitty said. "Otherwise you'll keep wondering. Maybe it's not as bad you're thinking."
Rogue shook her head. Feelings did not lie. Memories did not lie.
"Just go see him," Kitty urged. "Please? I hate seeing you so, like, worried--and it might be for nothing." She crossed her arms stubbornly, "God, you must really have it for him if you care this much about a simple conversation."
Rogue narrowed her eyes.
"I mean, you never get all anxious about a guy. I even thought you were asexual for a while, the way you always brush boys off and shoot them poisonous glares and you never showed any interest in girls so--"
"Okay, Ah'll talk to him!" Rogue exclaimed in exasperation. "Just not yet."
Kitty's eyes twinkled subtly, "You really like him, don't you?" When Rogue said nothing she smiled, "That's so great. I told you he was interested. You guys make such a good couple. And now that you can touch--oh, I can't wait to tell everyone about your powers! You're in total control now, aren't you? Kurt was babbling about how you walked through a wall and stuff but I didn't believe him because you could never just use my powers whenever you felt like--"
"Ah don't want anyone to know."
Kitty's smile disappeare. "Why not?"
Rogue frowned at the floor. "Ah'm...not ready. Ah can handle you knowing, but if everyone did then Ah'd never have a moment's peace..." She saw the doubtful look in Kitty's eyes, the growing frown of uncertainty. "Just for now, okay?"
"Okay," Kitty conceded. "But they deserve to know."
"Yeah, just not right now," Rogue sighed. She rubbed her eyes and drew a deep breath.
Kitty moved towards the door, "I better get back. You coming?"
"Ah probably should but..."
"You don't want anyone bugging you about what happened," Kitty said. "Just stay here then, relax, but don't brood over all this. Promise?"
"Sure."
Kitty looked at her dubiously. She hesitated to leave, feeling like she should stay and talk to her more. "I'll see you later then," she finally said, knowing very well the boys would be on her case if she didn't get back to clean-up.
"Later." Rogue heard the door close. She settled back into the armchair and stared at the glowing ashes of the fireplace. They reminded her of Remy's eyes, how they simmered with amorous warmth, with gentle understanding. A warm tingle traversed her limbs at the mere thought of him. It had been such a comfort to lie beside him last night, to sleep and feel the rise and fall of his chest, the steady intervals of his breath. Lost in her bittersweet reverie, Rogue forgot what had been troubling her. But with the cunning of a thief, Annabel's parting words returned to her consciousness: Don't judge him by his mistakes. Don't throw away what you have because of the past.
What did Remy do? Who was Genny? How did he use her? Why did she fall? Where? When? Rogue bit her lip. The memories, the feelings, the guilt and self-contempt--all were Remy's and it scared her beyond words to wonder the cause of it all. She had to talk to him before it drove her mad.
Rising from her seat, she moved towards the door. Her hand hovered above the doorknob. Maybe it didn't matter what Remy had done. The past was the past after all. Had Annabel not given her sagacious advice? Gritting her teeth together, Rogue threw open the door and stormed into the hall. She had to know. No matter what would happen, she had to know.
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Hmmm, seems like there was too much angst here....but oh well. It had to do it to make everybody see how tense it's become around here. I usually get a feel about the chapters and the one I'm getting for this one isn't very impressive--but the upcoming ones are so just hold on, it's on its way.
Review! I love reading your replies.