About this chapter, I realize it's getting…drawn-out, the whole Rogue-Remy tension-angst thing. There's only so much that even I can take without it seeming forced and overdone.
So just to let you all know, if this seems overdone, I know and it had to happen. If it doesn't, good!
Also, the organization of this chapter was rather iffy and kind of…unorganized. So sorry that I got lazy, but don't take it as a downgrade of quality or anything. Go easy on me!
EmeraldKatsEye: I'm experimenting with the whole Bobby/Lorna thing. I'm not sure Alex is coming into the picture because, well, I don't like the Evo portrayal of him—what's with the surfer dude outlook? Anyway, we'll see about that. I have no idea who Jean-Paul is, but I probably don't? Chica De Los Ojos Café: See, I was questioning if leaving it at that spot was a good thing to do, and it was, judging from your reaction—exactly what I wanted! And yeah, hmm, possibilities here. You'll see. Freak87: Since I am just an incredible dork, and I think my gay waiter from that other chapter was such a brilliant deviation from the norm, I just had to bring it up again. Thanks for saying Rogue and Remy's convo was funny—it's hard to think up what they'll say to each other bc I cannot imagine their conversations to be boring! And they can't be embarrassingly cheesey either so…that's what we get. Following Rogue around like a "lost dog"? I feel insulted for Remy! LoL. Well, hon, if that's what you thought… Remy had decided to stay at the mansion with Rogue, but he knew he had to deal with home stuff before he could be at peace. Because, he left New Orleans for a reason yeah? I hate to have to be so like the others, but Gambit's history is Gambit's history no matter what X-Men universe we're in, so I've decided to stick with it. Kind of predictable, but hopefully no less heart-wrenching when it happens. Texasgrrl: hmm, I'm not sure if this is bad—well, actually I am but I can't be giving away what I'm gonna do, but still, I think the turn of events is great because that's what fans love. Sweety8687: I'm a bit confused… so you don't like the angst? Yet, when it delivers such heart-wrenching moments, you must like it! I really am a bit of a masochist, because quite honestly, I enjoy writing the angsty moments more than I do the happy ones—though the ones in "Bliss" were pretty fun to write. I'm sorry! It IS Henri, and with a purpose, as much as we've all been dreading it. And Rogue doesn't know about Bella. Yet. GothikStrawberry: Too much fluff, like everything else, will make you ill. That's why I always have to ruin it with angst, lol. But I mean, we still need the fluff to make things bearable, I think. Your intuition hasn't failed you. Five-Farthings: Wow, thanks for all the "wows". I like how my fic has had that effect. We will be seeing a little more of Polaris, but not in this fic. I'll have to research a little more into her. I have a knack for making conversations flow so brilliantly? Oh, thank you! That was one of my biggest worries. And of course it has to do with Belle! Oh damn, my French sucks, probably because it's as good as my Latin and Spanish—which I don't know! I knew it was "Oui" in my head, but for some reason I thought it was "Qui". But isn't "what" in French "Quoi"? Did I at least get that right? Anda: Whoa, that was weird. The first two sentences in your review were all coded or something so I couldn't understand anything but a few—oooohh! I just got it right this instant. You must have copy and pasted Remy's quotation from the fic window. Don't you love that line? I tried to think of something that didn't come across as stupid and cheesey. I mean, imagine if I'd written, "I can't stand being anywhere without you. I'll follow you anywhere." Uuughhh… Too typical, too not-Remy. Flowerperson: Hmm…I completely forgot about how Logan might react. But you know, I don't think he was too opposed to Remy in this fic as he is in others, you know? They only interacted like once and that was just in the beginning where Logan was giving him a fair warning. But then again, is he is the protective mentor of Rogue. I'll make a note of that. Funkydomino: Glad you think it clicked! Many out there don't at all and I try not to be like that. Ishandahalf: Oh dear ishy! I totally try to get ppl's hopes up, and then dash them with horrible angst—but I know they enjoy it—so do you! Right? Lol. Anyway, Remy does have low self-esteem, doesn't he? Interesting thought. And I can't blame you for being pessimistic, seeing as how there's a trend in this fic: things always go from good to bad to good to bad… LOl! "I depise her with the hot fiery passion of a billion burning suns." Oh my God—I LOVED that line! I can't stand Belle either! Can't tell whether it's there's any merit to hating her or maybe it's bc she's just sooooo TYPICAL—blond, tall, beautiful, bitchy…. I can't typical-ness. And—well—I—sigh. I really can't help doing the false sense of happiness thing to you guys! You'll love (or hate) me for it later though! Looking forward to your stories! Nimbio: ahhahahaha—"the protagonist/male-romance interest", great line. Well, the story will have to end eventually, but the angst and characters and plot—well, that just goes on. I brightened your horrible day? Good! But I hope it wasn't that horrible and I hope it got better. Orion Kohaishu: I thought you guys needed a break from all the drama-action-screaming-crying deal. Funny though, because the "doom and gloom" of Gambit and Rogue's relationship is what makes the relationship, you know? Imagine where it'd be without it. I'm looking forward to getting more into Remy's family, all the new characters! I can't wait myself. Totally Obsessed47: When there's not much else to say, only say what's to be said. I have no idea what I'm talking about, lol. Allie: Whoa, sounds like a wicked computer problem. Doesn't it freak you out when that happens? I get so worried and angsty that I think I might scream! I love my computer. God, it's hideous how we're so dependent on technology. Aprilangel413: Well, Henri just missed his brother so he came to have a little chat, go out for lunch maybe, get a tour around Bayville, meet Rogue and the famous X-Men. You know, the normal stuff. Right! How many people would fall asleep reading that! So I'm guessing you can guess why Henri's here. Epona04: Yay, I did a good "allrounder". Lots of writers forget that there are other X-Men in the world, too, not just their main characters. We'll see them to be more involved in coming chapters. Shockgoddess: I have an inkling about who Chuck Austen is—and he's gone? That sucks. I can't stand the character Julien. Sooner or later he's going to make an appearance, and I'll probably wrong his character purposely, just to make obvious how much of an ass I think he is. Time will tell. Who can say what Rogue will do? She can be unpredictable at times…I'm still debating a few plotlines myself. Kendokao: Agh, the cuteness, I'm going to barf, lol. No, it was pretty sweet writing it. Figures there should be some fluffy scenes what with all the drama and action going on. What's next? Read on and see. Keller: That was probably the sweetest review I've had yet. It was so sincere and all that—thank you! I'm glad I gave you some heart-wrenching hours, those are the moments we remember. Daydreaming, huh? I get into that about my own fic too, as conceited as that may sound—it helps the time pass at work. Minnaloushe: Oh, that whole bit about your after school endeavors was kinda sad. I can completely relate, by the way. And I'm glad I was able to entertain you for a few hours with this fic. More into character than the comics, huh? Thank you! I don't really read the comics, but of what I have seen, the writers make the characters do some heinous things, so I guess I took liberties has to how I wanted them portrayed. "Love In Vain" is one of my fav chapters. That Paris chapter took FOREVER—you don't even know. Man. Anyway, I should really get working on the next chapter. Lelann37: Good! I hope you have this same attitude after the last chapter! Henri's just here for a reunion, you know, hasn't seen his little bro in a while. They'll go around town, tour New York…riiiight—how many people would fall asleep reading that? Lady Godiva: I totally know what you mean about smiling like an idiot. I did that a lot while reading some other fics. The sweetness just gets to you, y'know? Of course you do. Angel eyes24: Cliff hanger endings suck. I try to avoid them, I think. I didn't think this was so cliff-hangerish, but with Henri coming with news, well, I guess people can't help but assume. Iceangel46: Napoleon Dynamite has gotten such rave since it came out—and I haven't seen it, doesn't seem like my type of movie, so…yeah. Maybe I should. Hmm. I don't think Remy could ditch Rogue even if he wanted to—which he wouldn't. But then again, we'd have a heavy debate on what I consider "ditching" and what everybody else would consider it. Sheesh, I have to stop being so ominous. Cd lover: Whoa…I felt like I'd stepped into some zone while reading your review. Your shoulder demon and angel must be interesting company while you're on your lonesome. You can't call X23 Anna! That's Rogue's name! And I'm not sure, the prospect of X23 having a role in this fic is very minimal, but I'll consider it. Jamie: Thanks for reviewing. Glad you're enjoying this fic. I'd like to write books; I don't think I have the mind for a comic writer. They go in and out of multiple dimensions and out to alternate universes way too often for me—when it's so sci-fi, I get lost. Haha, sometimes I don't know what word I'm trying to spell. I meant "fallay" to be "flay", not the "fillet", because isn't "fillet" only a noun and not a verb? Anyway, "flay" is what I was trying to say.
Henri released Remy and held him at arm's length to examine. "See y'been handlin' y'self well, boy," he grinned. "What's de matter, don' care 'nough t' write o'even call?"
Remy's shock gradually faded away. He shrugged, "Been a lil' busy."
"I'll bet," Henri laughed dryly. He suddenly noticed the quiet figure beside his brother. "Ah, who's dis lovely fille?" He took Rogue's hand and planted a gentlemanly kiss upon the smooth knuckles.
"Her name's Rogue," Remy told him.
Henri glanced from the girl to his brother, alerted by Remy's tone of voice. He seemed to be calculating the situation, deducing from the hints before him. Whatever uncertainty he had flickered over his face for only an instant. He patted Rogue's hand, "Enchanté."
"Nice to meet you," Rogue said. "Do ya want something to drink?"
"Non, merci, m'jus' here t'discuss a few t'ings wit' mon frere."
The Professor said, "Rogue, perhaps we should leave Remy and his brother to speak privately."
Remy shook his head, "S'all right, Professor."
Rogue tensed at their tones. "Why do Ah get the feeling Ah'm missing something," she said. The Professor seemed unnecessarily concerned, and Henri was looking at her strangely. It was all unnerving.
Remy's brother looked from one to the other. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Wish dis's was jus' some lil' reunion, but it ain't. Y'know what m'go'n' tell y', Remy…"
"Den jus' say it an' get it done," he interrupted.
Rogue frowned when an uncomfortable silence ensued. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Is there some big secret—Professor?" She turned towards Xavier, who only shook his head.
"T'ing is," Henri said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Remy didn' leave home f'no reason. But dat don' mean he ain't got one t'go back." He turned to look at his brother, "She's waitin' fo'y'. We all are."
"She," Rogue echoed.
Henri nodded, "Oui, his fiancé."
It was like a knife in her gut. Rogue blinked, tried to convince herself she'd heard wrong, but the icy feeling that began to grip her chest confirmed Henri's words. "He's engaged." Her voice sounded cold and unyielding, even to her. Familiar feelings returned in a culminating black wave—betrayal, hurt, anger. A lot of anger. A lot of betrayal. Mostly hurt. How could he?
Remy put a hand on her shoulder, "Rogue…"
She didn't hear him. She glanced towards the patio door, where some of the students peered through to see the unfamiliar visitor. They gawked at the sight of Remy touching her—bare skin to bare skin—while nothing happened. She felt their eyes, the Professor's, Henri's, Remy's. Everybody. The feeling of suffocation came like the grip of a vice.
Engaged. Remy had a fiancé. All this time. And all this time he...
Rogue twisted away from him and calmly stalked out of the kitchen, ignoring his shouts. She had never felt more humiliated. Never. She could still feel everybody's eyes on her, on her bare skin, that he was touching.
What did she look like? Was she pretty? She had to be; Remy LeBeau only liked the beautiful femmes. Had he slept with her, ran his experienced fingers along her skin? Had he promised never to leave her? That was silly; that was unnecessary. He had already promised to marry her. No other vow meant more or carried greater weight. No other.
Rogue heard him behind her. She felt him grab her arm and turn her around to face him, but she didn't look up. The next second his fingers went right through her suddenly intangible flesh.
"Chere, wait—"
Rogue turned away and with a poof of smoke, disappeared from view. She couldn't face him now. She wasn't sure she ever could.
-
Lorna's new room was nothing like her old room: the starched sheets, metal bed posts, bleeping machines, and fluorescent lights were so like those of a hospital setting that she couldn't forget that she was "sick". She twisted a strand of wavy green hair around her index finger, sighed. Weeks of her summer had been wasted in a hospital bed, and now it seemed such forced lethargy would continue. She was a strange case, she knew, but she was lucky, too. Many of the comatose mutants had died as a result of the predator's attack; she came out of it with a bit of wooziness, nausea, and headache.
It's not fair, she thought dejectedly, I just started being a mutant.
The fuzzy doctor had instructed her not to exercise her powers for the time-being. She had only discovered them a few months before, and they soon became the most exciting aspect of her life. Mutants had been phenomena she only heard about in the news, about strange people who led exhilarating lives she could never have. Even with her weirdly green hair she never suspected herself to be one of them, one of the next steps in human evolution.
She considered magnetically levitating a few objects in the room, just to entertain herself for a little while, when the whoosh of the Med Bay's automatic doors announced someone's arrival. The doctor was probably back to check up on her. She yawned and lay back in bed, feeling the beginnings of another headache growing.
"Hiya." It was not the fuzzy blue doctor. "Thought you might want some lunch." The young man set the food tray on the table beside her bed.
Lorna debated with herself for the second time whether or not she thought he was cute. She liked his hair, though it could be combed in a less preppy-boy way; but his eyes were so baby blue they nearly resembled the sea. She smiled, "Thanks, Bobby. You made all that for me?" She wasn't sure if she had enough appetite to consume such generous amounts of food.
Bobby shrugged, "Hospitality to our guest."
"Patient," Lorna corrected with a forlorn sigh. She massaged her temple, feeling a strange swelling sensation in her skull. It was not a normal headache, she knew, because it was a strange throbbing. She felt as though something was there that shouldn't have been, that her mind was fighting the presence of. Perhaps that was the reason for her fatigue, for her nausea and dizziness. "Jeez…uh, could you hand me that glass of—of whatever it is?"
"Yeah, sure." Bobby tried to give her the glass of gingerale, but her fingers couldn't seem to grasp it. "Here, let me just…" He eased the rim to her mouth and tipped it slightly to give her a few sips.
The fizzy carbon dioxide felt nice simmering down her throat. She blinked several times as the familiar wooziness shrouded her senses. Maybe conversation would distract her from it, if she could focus enough. "So…what makes you a mutant?" she asked bluntly.
Bobby smiled. He held out his palm and ever so slowly, almost in way that seemed artistic, ice crystals began forming upon his skin.
Lorna watched in awe as the frozen particles collected into the shape of a girl. Bobby tossed it to her and she barely caught it, felt its icy coolness against her fingers. "Wicked," she smiled. "Bet you're really handy in the summertime."
"Oh, yeah, icicles everywhere and all the way."
Lorna's smile grew. She had a feeling this guy was likeable.
-
Bobby left the Med Bay in a better mood than when he entered. The whole time conversing with Lorna had passed without acknowledgment; he couldn't remember another time when he thought a girl was as witty, cool, and all-out real. Too many were putting on an act—Lorna didn't. In fact, she reminded him a little of Rogue, what with her I'm-me-I-don't-care-what-everyone-else-thinks attitude. But she wasn't as severe, of course.
Whistling as he walked, he decided to the join the others in the cookout. He ambled through the Med Bay lobby, passing Hank's office, when he heard voices from behind the partly open door.
"…strange reactions in her body…could be due to…disturbance to synaptic clasps…"
Curiosity got the better of him: Bobby inched closer to the door, careful to remain hidden against the wall.
"And what exactly does all of this mean?" asked the Professor.
A light scratching noise sounded as Hank nicked at his furry chin. "It is very hard to say at this moment. None of the other comatose mutants are exhibiting this sort of bodily reaction. Granted, this could be some sort of post-traumatic effect. We have no way of knowing how Annabel Velkonnen attacked each individual, or how her particular use of her powers could have affected each victim."
"Like you said, no other mutants are experiencing Lorna's ailments."
"Precisely, which is why I am at a loss. Her symptoms might be warnings of a developing problem, or the signs of her body readjusting to self-sustenance. This could be a matter of simple biology or mutant dilemma."
"And we have no way to be certain."
"Not really. The best we can do is treat her illnesses in the conventional ways until, hopefully, she makes a full recovery—which she has no reason not to. These are not life-threatening discomforts she suffers."
"I understand what you are saying, Hank. Even so I sense something…else the matter here."
Bobby frowned, inching closer to the door.
"What do you mean?" Hank asked.
The Professor remained silent for several seconds. "I cannot say for sure," he finally replied. "I wish to raise no alarms, only that, I perceived something irregular within the girl. Albeit, this is only intuition but…"
"Your intuition rarely leads you false, Charles."
"And that is often more cumbersome than allaying," the Professor sighed. "I will investigate this further. In the meantime, keep doing what you do best, Hank." The whirr of the wheelchair was interrupted as Hank voiced another question.
"Are there any developments in the collar issue?"
"No. Our investigation these past few days have not proved fruitful. The students are not yet aware, and I do not wish to concern them over the matter. But something else has come to our attention."
"What?"
"You recall when Sabertooth came calling, requesting the return of Colossus and Pyro to the Acolyte base?"
Bobby remembered the day. He had been ready to blast the feline to a popsicle state he was so tense. A cold dread crept into his stomach at the memory, crawled up his spine and caused a tingling in his jaw. Sabertooth had mentioned something that day, a project…
"…seems Magneto has been engaging in various recruitment activities."
"To expand his Acolyte team?"
"Possibly, though I do not see what advantages he may gain from that. An expanded team of mercenaries would only demand greater recompenses, in conjunction with being harder to control."
"Perhaps," Hank said, "he is finally gathering that mutant army of his visions. Resolute desperadoes will fight solely for their ideologies, and there are enough human-hating mutants available to fill Magneto's ranks."
"Yes, a possibility," the Professor agreed, "but if that was his sole intention, the enterprise should have been lost in light of his passing—yet Sabertooth is pushing to continue the activity, of which the Acolytes are no doubt overseeing."
"And that continuing forward drive can only be from other parties protecting their interests," Hank continued the thought, "which would give us reason to believe that Magneto was not working alone on this project. This might be bigger than either of us can conjecture at this moment, Charles."
"Yes, yes, that is what concerns me. I suppose it would be wise to consult Gambit on this matter. Nevertheless, it's too early in the day to think of such heavy matters…"
Bobby sensed the meeting's end. As silently as he could, he left the Med Bay, feeling in the clear only when he had entered the west wing. He was irritated with himself for eavesdropping; it always resulted in receiving more information than necessary, more knowledge that only worried him—at least until he found something else to occupy his attention. But even so, what the Professor said about Lorna was disturbing; he'd basically claimed that something was "off" with her, which Bobby could only take to mean she wasn't all there in the head. He hoped she didn't go crazy or anything. Nobody else had these side effects from their comas. What if that Annabel girl had somehow messed up her mind?
He chewed on the inside of his mouth as he made his way upstairs.
And what was this about some recruitment project? And collars? By the way Hank and the Professor were talking, it seemed like some supervillain effort to control the world—as always.
Bobby meandered into his room as thoughts troubling, exciting, and irritating floated about his head. He rummaged through the closet and found his swimming trunks. After changing in the bathroom, he draped a towel around his neck, footed some pool sandals, and left the room. First he would have a relaxing swim, then treat himself to a gourmet hamburger.
Taking a different route to the patio, he passed by Rogue's room. The door sat ajar. He wondered if she was being reclusive again; he had noticed a change in her behavior lately: she seemed to be in better spirits. Bobby had difficulty believing the rumors, that her mood change was somehow because of that cocky Cajun. Rogue wouldn't go for that type—would she?
He saw her through the door, sitting at the edge of her bed, head drooped while she stared at her lightly clutched palms. Bobby squinted at the object in her hands; it was a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. And then he saw what he never thought he would see: Rogue started crying. His eyes widened, and a harsh feeling of guilt struck him in the chest at spying on her in such a way—but he was utterly flabbergasted.
Tiny, barely perceptible tear droplets trickled down her ivory cheeks. Her eyes remained half-closed, as though the thick lashes were too heavy for their lids. She wept in silent stillness, like some inhuman being too pure to wail or distort the serenity of her mien.
Bobby saw the sadness and confusion so clear in her eyes that he was disturbed. What happened? Aware that he was risking harsh rebuttal, he knocked lightly and stepped into the room. "Not in the mood for burgers?"
Rogue's head snapped up. Surprise flashed across her eyes, followed by anger, then exasperation. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and stood up, shoving the Queen of Hearts into the drawer of her bureau. "Want something, Bobby?"
He shrugged, hoping to lighten the mood with nonchalant behavior. "Well, everybody else is outside, enjoying what's left of summer. Kinda wrong that you're locked up in here by yourself."
"The door was open," Rogue bit off. She turned her back to him, staring at herself in the mirror. Her fingers began gathering up the locks of hair and smoothing them back into a messy ponytail.
Bobby sighed, "That's not the point, Rogue. I mean, you seemed okay a few days ago…"
"Okay," she echoed, turning around to face him, "meaning that Ah'm not otherwise?"
"No, just that—"
"Bobby, Ah know what you're trying to do, but Ah don't need or want anyone to try and coax me to join the others," Rogue said flatly. "Don't worry about me so much. Ah am perfectly fine."
Bobby bristled slightly. He was only trying to be nice. "Which is why you were crying, right?" he challenged.
Rogue's eyes flashed. "Nice to know people respect privacy in this place," she retorted.
"The door was open," Bobby shot back.
Rogue rolled her eyes, "That's great, aren't ya clever, using my own words against me. Bravo. Have a gold star. Now get out and leave me alone." She narrowed her eyes, the sadness from before shrouded by annoyance and vexation.
Bobby sighed and scratched his head. "Sorry," he muttered, "just thought I might try and…dunno, crack that shell of yours. Guess I'm not any better at it than anyone else." He turned and headed out the door.
"Bobby, wait."
He stopped five steps into the hall, turned around curiously.
Rogue leaned against her doorway, one hand on the frame. "Ah don't mean to be such a bitch," she said, eyes lowered to the floor. "It's just easier sometimes."
He nodded, "We know, but it's just hard to…deal with you when you act like that. Would it so bad to just tell—"
"If you had personal issues with Lorna, would ya want everybody to know about them?"
Bobby feigned ignorance, "Wha?"
"Everybody knows ya have the hots for her."
"Hey, it's not like that!" Bobby puffed. "Lorna happens to be nice and…what do you mean everybody knows? Knows what?"
Rogue sighed, "Point is, you wouldn't want everyone drooling over your business, right?" After he nodded she said, "So just try and understand…Ah need to be alone." With a half-hearted smile she moved to close the door.
"For what it's worth," Bobby said, "he doesn't seem all that bad." It was the best he could do without sounding too much for the obnoxious pretty boy.
One side of her mouth curved up for his sake. "Ah'm not sure that helps much, Bobby, but thanks for tryin'." She closed the door and disappeared.
Bobby tugged on both ends of the towel around his neck. With a sigh he headed down to the patio.
-
-
-
Most of the furniture was carved from solid specimens of redwood and adorned with sinfully smooth cushions. Various paintings graced the walls, depicting scenes of Paris, Berlin, Venice. The parlor, along with every other room in the Xavier Institute, had been spared no expense in its making. Henri had to admire the luxury that sat all around him. "Y'got y'self a nice fix here," he said. "No wonder y'so disinclined t'come back home."
Remy sat in one of the brown leather armchairs, flicking a card back and forth along his fingers. "Dat ain't de reason an' you know it."
His brother looked at him askance. He smoothed a palm along his bare head, frowned thoughtfully. "Dat femme, Remy, she ain't more important dan de Guild, dan y' duty t' our fam'ly."
Remy's eyes glowed crimson in the faint lighting of the room, lit by anger, by regret, by the irrepressible knowledge that he had screwed up yet again. "Maybe she is," he said determinedly. "Maybe I don' give a damn 'bout de Guild anymore."
Henri's gaze was level and stern; it bore into the younger man with dauntingly potent weight. "Merde, Rem, y'serious? Dis Guild, de T'ieves—dese t'ings are life f'us. No matter how long y've been away, no matter what dese people tell y', y' always go'n' be one o'us. Y'always go'n' be a T'ief."
Remy huffed incredulously. "Jean-Luc know y'so gung-ho 'bout de T'ieves? Must be mighty proud…"
"Quit de sarcastics," Henri cut in, scowling severely. "You an' Jean-Luc may've had diff'rences in de past, but s'time t'put it behind y'. De future's bright an' hopeful. Even Marius agrees wit' dis union. S'de only way t'end de feud."
"De feud's been goin' on long 'nough dat one little marriage ain't go'n' erase de hate," Remy bit off. "An' don' even try t'convince me dat Julien's okay wit' it. He's heinously possessive o'his sister, not t'mention he hates m'guts f'reasons ot'er dan bein' on de opposin' side." He hadn't forgotten the night of the ambush, of being pummeled to a bloody pulp.
Henri began slowly, deliberately pacing the room, eyebrows furrowed in disgruntlement. His mustache swayed infinitesimally up and down as he pursed and loosed his lips. "I always t'ought y'left as some sort o' rebel protest t'our lifestyle, frere…but like I said, s'never goin' away. Y't'ink jus' 'cause y'had a change o'heart, de Rippers gon' leave y'alone? It will never end, Remy. Y'know dat."
"Den why bother wit' me an' Belle marryin'?"
"Y'know why: it'll force de T'ieves an' Assassins t'work t'gether. Once dey joined, both de clans are on de line t'gether." Henri stopped pacing, turned and faced his brother, "Y'know m'right. Y'know dis y' duty t' de Guild. An' y'know y'gon' come back wit' me."
Remy stared at him, eyes smoldering. He thought back to the night he stumbled across Eric Magnus Lensherr, the night he finally had a tangible reason to leave New Orleans. It seemed he was finally parting with the Thieves, that he had left that life behind. But the past would never go away. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how hard he tried, he could never escape his former life. Now it had disturbed the one thing that mattered to him, the one thing that gave him hope for bliss. What was she thinking right now? He had left her to whatever assumptions and thoughts her imagination could invent. Maybe he should go speak with her, try and explain himself before it was too late—
"Dis femme…how she diff'rent from de other ones?"
Remy almost laughed. How was she not different from the others? He merely shook his head in reply.
"Never t'ought I'd see de day when Remy LeBeau got stuck on a girl," Henri huffed, a bit of amusement in his voice. "Y've fallen f'her, haven't y'?"
Remy didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
Henri massaged his bald head, eyebrows furrowing excessively. "S'unnerving t'see y'like dis…still, I know how t'is an' believe it or not, I understand. But it don' change t'ings. De Guild's bigger dan me, s'bigger dan you an' her. Maybe s'better dat she found out dis way. Y'can let go 'fore it gets worse."
The words stirred a memory: A frozen night, its blackness disturbed by silver rays of moon. It'll only get worse, she had said. And when it ends Ah don't think Ah'll be able to handle it.
"Maybe I don' wan' let go," Remy said. "Maybe what's worse is actually what's good." He massaged his eyes, released a breath. As far as he could remember, women had only been a pleasure when they could be had then forgotten. Once they latched on, they became an unbearable inconvenience. But that was no longer the case. Rogue had changed everything.
Who knew what she was thinking, feeling. It couldn't be any better than his present state. All the doubt and frustration only increased his vexation at the situation. Rogue didn't deserve this and neither did he. There was only one surefire thing. "M'not goin' t'rough wit' de wedding, Henri," he said. "I don' care what you or de Guild or Jean-Luc say."
The older man watched him calmly, eyes narrowed. Finally he said, "Your call, Remy. But if y'gon' deliver dat blow, y'better be dere t'explain y'self."
"Planned on it, mon ami."
"Doesn' mean y'bravado's gon' fix anyt'ing."
"Don' care."
"Dey'll be pissed."
"Don' care 'bout dat either."
Henri released a guttural laugh, "Dis fille's really got y'tied 'round her lil' finger, non? Dieu, honestly never t'ought I'd live t'see dis..." He shook his head, half amused, half apprehensive.
Remy stood and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don' worry 'bout dis so much, Henri. T'ings'll work out de way dey're s'posed to; if dere's anything I learned here, it's dat. In de meantime, dis is what's gon' happen…"
Hfff, I totally gave Bobby way more page time than first intended. Sorry if any of you out there are especially anti-Iceman. Completely unintentional, but no less convenient and somewhat entertaining.
Next Chapter: One Night