I am ASHAMED of myself for taking this long to update. I don't know what happened. I usually type a little of a chapter every night with this regular flow, but I haven't touched my laptop for DAYS. I think less of myself right now for putting this fic off for so long, and so should all of you. Shame, shame on me. Things have reached his hectic business again and it's seriously feeling like horrible evil October/November right now. (Those were the worst months of my life!) But I think it's getting a little better…
I'm also quite shamed that I lied about the title of this chapter. It came out longer than I planned so…yeah, had to split it up into two. But the next one will be uploaded sooner than this one did, promise!
Anyway, sorry for taking so long! You probably won't even remember what these review replies are replying to. I did them as I got them so I wouldn't get behind. At least I planned ahead there!
TotallyRiddickObsessed: didn't know you were a Riddick fan. My friend said she was disappointed by that movie (she's so into Vin Diesel) but –shrug—. I am so anti-Bobby in the X-Men movies. What's with Rogue hooking up with him? That's got to be the dumbest thing ever. Allie: Ugh, I heartily dislike Belladonna. I mean, for starters, what kind of a name is "Belladonna". Plus she seems like the blond bitch supreme—the typical snob, daddy's little princess. Gag me. And yes, she will always mess things up. I'm having trouble deciding whether I should be completely biased and make her all bitchy, or be a little more kind and make her just an inconvenience. Or maybe both. Heh. This laptop gave me so much grief before—it better not crash again. Aprilangel413: What do you want him to do? Hope I deliver. Freak87: First before I forget, I have this reply to your email saved on the desktop comp for some reason and I've been meaning to get that sent out, but seeing as how I always use my laptop—it's all just very messed up. Just to let you know! See, the whole predictability of Remy's problems sucks because everybody knows what's going to happen—but at the same time, the whole connection of it, the foreknowledge, gives it a bit of…substance? Can't think of the word. I seriously cannot see Rogue getting overly emotional in front of anyone; running away in sobs and tears? No way would I ever wrong her like that. Agh, can't escape the predictability—I hate that. But I don't want to alter Gambit's history because I happen to like Gambit's history. So we'll see what I can wring out from all this. Chica De Los Ojos Café: You liked this chapter a lot? Good! I was worried that I'd lost my touch or something. And I've been looking forward to writing this chapter so enjoy reading it! Ishandahalf: -sigh, everybody seemed to know what would happen. I heavily dislike the whole predictability of it, but, I mean, duh, everybody knows Gambit's past, right? Oooh, sorry that I couldn't lighten your day with fluff! Really I am, and that's saying something, but this had to be done, dear ish. Can you imagine going through what this couple goes through? I might have killed myself halfway through the ordeal from so much angst. This was your favorite portrayal of this? Coming from you, avid author and reader, wow, don't know how to say thanks enough to do the compliment justice. I guess silence does say a lot. That's my image of Rogue anyway. She's calm and she has silent anger, and only when she loses control does she explode. I don't like how some people show her as some rash screamer. Quite honestly, I almost forgot about the plot aspects of this fic, too, what with all the Rogue-Remy Lorna-Bobby happenings—hard to keep up! Minnaloushe: I love long sentences, lol, I do it all the time. I love Evo bobby, but movie Bobby annoys the crap out of me. Don't you hate how the movie-goers, who know nothing about Gambit, are so into the Bobby-Rogue thing? Ew ew ew ew! I never saw the TAS episode with Iceman and Lorna—wait, I think I saw like one scene while I was flipping channels (I wasn't into X-Men before)—but I like the idea of playing with the two a little bit. Alex in Evo is really, eh, surfer dude-ish so I just couldn't do it. The comics are incredibly heinous! I hate what they do to the characters and plot—it's so extravagant and unrealistic that it drives me crazy. But I mean, I guess you'd have to go there after years and years of issues—run out of ideas eventually, yeah? Wow, you're about the first that's told me to take my time! Everyone's always rush rush rush, but I take my time anyway—actually, I pressure myself to deliver faster. Heh. Lelann: Thank you! I don't think Remy's going to be speaking much with Jean-Luc in this fic. Not yet anyway. Next story most likely. Cd lover: Do you even know what X23's name is? LOL. Kitty wasn't in this chapter? I'm just too busy introducing other characters. Besides, she gets enough attention anyway. Polishing? I'm a little confused as to what, lol. Sweety8587: I think everyone has a love/hate relationship with angst—but many don't know it, so they complain when it happens. They just don't see that it's the hardship and struggle that causes stories to stick with them. I'm not sure if you're grasping at straws. I don't really know what that means. But here y'go, see what happens! Five-Farthings: Yay, I love Evo Bobby, too. Movie Bobby sucks but Evo Bobby is hilarious. Lorna's just full of problems, that's all. Heh. You'll have to wait and find out then. Hey! I forgot you were writing a fic with me in it—cool! Can't wait until I get the first chapter. Texasgrrl: fine? Good. I seriously thought I'd lost my touch. Xmengirlzrule: Yay, I love new readers. Hope you enjoy this fic and tell me what you think about it. Any and all comments welcome. GothikStrawberry: Hopefully everything will be all right…sorry! I'm doing that "leading readers on" thing when I always lead in the wrong direction on purpose…so just read on and don't listen to my babble. Funky domino: If I rushed, the story'd suck, I think. I'm losing sense of how long I go between updates—they kinda go up when they get done…so hopefully this one didn't take too long. Flowerperson: Everyone knew Belladonna would get in somehow! Agh, hate the predictability! But oh, well, that's only 'cause everybody knows about Gambit's history so—duh. I hate Belladonna, too, you have no idea. Almost as much as Emma Frost. "Stupid cow", hahaha. Logan must see himself as some father figure or something. Anda: How do you know he's not going to marry Belladonna? How do you know Remy won't just leave and never come back? How do you know everything won't go to hell? Oh, there I go again, being unnecessarily dark… hahaha, I just can't have to sometimes. TheBabyPhatPrincess: I don't think you've ever reviewed before, so thanks for doing it now! I love new reviewers. I'm glad you think so highly of all this. Very flattering. Yeh…Bobby definitely got too much attention. Enchantedlight: thank you! Back to four words I see…I think you've only strayed from this habit like two times ever. Orion Kohaishu: Dude. Thanks. Lol. You'll get more. Enjoy this chapter especially. Duty is a bitch. Lady Godiva: Maybe despite how much he tries, Remy can't escape the Guild, the past. I think I made a point of that for a paragraph… and LOL, yeah! It does depend on how evil I'm feeling. Seriously, that made me chuckle there. Oh, don't worry. Rogue will definitely not be stupid. I mean, she's only upset bc of what she believes. He didn't have a chance to explain, right? Keller: Yeah, I just can't go without the conflicts. That's the only reason I do this, honestly. Well, that and that it's fun, too. Oh, daydreaming is great. I could do it for hours. SarQueen4: Totally right, it's like Gambit's life is just one let down after another. How can you go on after so many set backs? I'll never know…SickmindedSucker: I considered making Rogue blow up (in a Rogue-like way of course), but then I decided if she had blown up, she wouldn't have been Rogue. I seriously can't see her throwing a hissy fit at Remy. Tons wrong with that picture. Jamie: My Gambit here looks exactly like Evo Gambit (maybe without the goatee thing going on…) but yeah, he does talk different. Evo Gambit didn't have the true Gambit accent so I had to modify that. Can't be totally Cajun without sounding like one! Hahaha, I absolutely HATE Rogue and Bobby in the movies, too! I think it's the dumbest idea to grace the mind of marvel. And what's worse, everybody supports it with the "Oh, the actor that plays Bobby is so hot" "They look cute together" blah blah blah—gag! You're giving up X-Men for Lent? My story's not going to be done by then! I think you should pick giving up chocolate or something. Artistlil349: Thank you. Glad you enjoy it. I love having new reviewers. Misswildfire: Do you think all guys are like that? Where they know one thing will end all the misery but they don't do it bc of pride or frustration or uncertainty or doubt…that's Remy's dilemma—I think. It's late. I'm not really thinking right now. –yawn—, hope I didn't overly confuse you or anything, heh. Epona: all the "brilliants" you gave me nearly made me blind they shined so brilliantly—okay, that was a lame attempt at metaphor or whatever that was, if it was anything. Can you tell I'm not all here right now? Heh! Shockgoddess: See, I had that thought: that ppl should just accept someone for who they are. But then you have think, what if they don't? Just because a person doesn't exactly have it super easy in life (like Rogue), doesn't give them the right to become…unlikable and unpleasant to be around. Doesn't that seem like feeling sorry for yourself? And people don't have to accept you for that bc you inevitably make them feel bad just being present—so I don't know. Anyway, I inserted Bobby for future plot references. Hff, why would I give him any importance? So conniving, huh, using Lorna and Bobster's relationship as a little plot thingy for Remy and Rogue. Oh well! And yes, I have gotten extremely busy with stuff—AGAIN. Kinda freaking out what with physics projects and algebra exams…I hate the real world! How great it would be to just retreat into the net forever. But that's depressing and sad!
There had only been one instance in time that Rogue truly wished she was Jean Grey. A little over a year ago, a month before graduation, all the girls at Bayville High were aglow with excitement and anticipation. They gathered together at each other's houses, curling their hair, painting their faces, adorning themselves with strings of glittering jewelry… Their outfits had been chosen months before, that year's latest fashions for prom.
Rogue remembered what Jean's dress had looked like: it was a strapless gown of a glowing creamy hue, alloying with her milky skin and granting her a celestial countenance. Her flaming scarlet hair had been pulled into an elegant upsweep, loose curly strands brushing against her shoulders. Jean had looked like a princess. Right out of a fairy tale. And her prince was Scott.
Until that night, Rogue had never felt a stronger dejection. She sat, half hidden behind the staircase banister, watching the happy couple below. Watched as Scott looped a corsage around Jean's slender wrist, as he gave her a kiss on the cheek, as she smiled graciously in return. Ororo took pictures as they posed together in their formal attire, for their special night.
And Rogue wished for nothing but to be Jean Grey. Jean Grey with her beautiful dress; Jean Grey with her knight; Jean Grey who would have one perfect, normal evening. Because the Rogue would never have those things, had never had those things. Nobody asked her to prom; they were afraid and stayed far away…
Wasn't solitude was what she wanted? And, yet, at the same time, so aggravatingly true, it wasn't. It was her malign skin, the pretense for her reclusiveness. But she wanted it that way; life was simpler without having to deal with too many people, too many relationships. She would've preferred things this way even without her powers. It was easier. Oh, but what she wouldn't have given that night to go to prom, to dance and sway in a beautiful gown, to be a normal high school girl….
Rogue blinked, looked around at her surroundings. She had wandered out of the mansion, sat herself upon the rooftop outside her bedroom. The sun shone ahead, glaring in her vision so she had to avert her eyes; it had already begun its inevitable descent into the horizon. How long had she been sitting there, daydreaming the time away?
She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, rested her forehead on them. Prom had come and gone without her; high school was over. Her skin was no longer a problem; she didn't have that excuse anymore. So things should have changed. Her life should have gotten better. The sadness should have disappeared.
But it didn't. She was still sitting on that roof, alone as always, as ever.
"Room for two out here?"
Rogue lifted her head, startled. She remained silent.
Logan pulled himself onto the shingles, crawled over, and sat two feet away, slightly behind her. "Never figured you for a sky gazer," he said. His knuckles cracked as he started twisting the joints. "Guess I don't really know everything about you."
Rogue frowned, wondering where this was going. She grew unnerved.
"Which's obvious," Logan grunted, "when you're at this moody age." He cleared his throat. "And I know I'm the last person you should be taking advice from but…" He growled and mumbled something under his breath, scratched his head. "Dang it, Stripes, I thought you were smarter than this."
Her face scrunched up in distaste for his words. She huffed and turned away, purposely blinding herself with the not-quite-setting sun. "Logan, Ah know ya hate having ta play the wise dad so Ah'll just save you the trouble. Ah'm gonna do what Ah want and if Gambit's my choice, then you'll just have to deal with it."
"So it's true then," Logan said, tone not incensed so much as curious. "You hooked up with that Cajun?" Before Rogue could reply, he released a dry laugh, "Of all the types in the world, Stripes, I'd've never pinned Gumbo for yours."
Rogue couldn't decide whether or not to be offended.
"Doesn't mean I like it," Logan added sternly. "That boy's gotten around; he ain't some fresh pick off the field. And right now, I'm seeing the upshots of that past in your lil' romance."
Resentment sparked heatedly in her chest. She felt it constrict her breath. What right did Logan have to regard her and Remy like that? He couldn't know about the doubt and hurt, the need and frustration. He couldn't know, and she couldn't tell him.
Then he said the most unexpected: "But just 'cause it's hard, doesn't mean you give up."
Rogue frowned in shock and suspicion, "What?"
"You were different these past few days, kid. Guess I could say…less gloomy," he grumbled. "And I find it mighty hard to believe it's 'cause of that backwater Cajun, but…seein' is believin'." He scratched his head again, smoothed the stubble on his jaw. "Not sayin' the ride's gonna be smooth, but you shouldn't be rash. Like this whole fiancé…thing for example."
Rogue whirled around to face him, eyes flashing, "How do you know about that?"
"Professor," Logan replied nonchalantly. He shrugged, "You think I wasn't gonna find out what got you all bitchy again?"
"You think I'm a bitch?" Rogue demanded, mouth gaping.
Logan released an exasperated sigh, "Didn't say that and besides, ain't the point. But, kiddo, I hope you get what the point is. 'Cause I do hate playing the wise dad."
Rogue sighed and hugged her knees tighter. She knew he was right. When Henri's revelation first hit her, it had been one hell of a blow; but after all this time contemplating it… "Ya know about my powers, too?" she asked Logan.
He nodded.
"Ah was gonna to tell everyone…"
Logan shrugged, "Privacy's a right."
"You're letting me off too easy," Rogue said, only half kidding.
Logan grunted. "Must be gettin' soft." He patted her on the shoulder and moved to climb off the roof. As he lowered himself onto the balcony, he said, "Get the truth first then decide what to do," and disappeared.
Rogue stared at where he had been for a few moments, then sighed and closed her eyes. Things were always so hard with her—one complication after another. She couldn't help but wonder if Jean and Scott ever had these problems, ever had these doubts. Or was their relationship so normal that they could enjoy each other's company free of miserable insecurity?
Rogue blinked back tears. She didn't want this to go on; she wasn't sure how much tougher she could be, how thick her skin truly was. Blow after blow had come, and her resiliency had not yet failed. But for how much longer? She was sick of it; she was tired of watching her every comfort be leeched away by bad luck and misfortune. This had to end.
She crawled off the roof, entered her room.
Kitty sat on the floor reading a magazine. Her face scrunched in worry, "Rogue? You okay?" She set the magazine aside and stood to her feet.
"Ah'm fine."
Kitty watched her apprehensively. It was as if she knew what ran through her roommate's mind. Hesitantly she asked, "What are you…what are you going to do?"
"To end something that shouldn't've started," Rogue replied. With a forlorn smile she turned and left the room.
-
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-
"So this is your choice?"
"Wasn' really a choice, Prof."
"When will you be departing?"
"Soon."
Xavier nodded. "It is very noble of you to do what is best for your family, especially when it is at your own expense."
Remy resisted the urge to huff. He stood in his room of the Institute, garbed in his figure-fitting uniform and trademark trench coat. A small duffle bag lay open on the bed for him to fill. He realized suddenly that he didn't really have anything to put in it. "M'not marryin' Belladonna," he said. "M' jus' goin' back t'survey de situation. Dere's no way m'walkin' down dat aisle."
"Your brother seemed very doubtful before he left."
"Henri's the careful, cynical type. Dis de way s' always been in de Guilds; watchin' me challenge 't shakes him up." Remy zipped up the duffle bag and left it on the bed. He wouldn't be needing it. "Henri's got a level head on his shoulders. He's go'n' back first t'break de news, hopef'lly calm everybody down a lil'…"
The Professor nodded understandably as he listened. "You do not seem too optimistic."
Remy sighed at what an understatement the man's words were. Truthfully, he couldn't see a happy resolution to this. Jean-Luc was as intrusive towards him as Marius Boudreaux was scornful; Jean-Luc would always tell him what to do and Marius would always regard him as an irritant.
"Dis's jus' deir way o'controllin' me again," he said contemptuously. "S'never been diff'rent. Once y'in de Guild, dey own y'."
To his credit, and maybe naiveté, the Professor disagreed. "No one can control you so long as you take action for yourself," he said. "You know this, Remy. You have always known this. That is why you found reason to leave the Thieves in the first place. Do not give up now. That is oftentimes more disastrous than straying from command and expectation."
Remy huffed dryly, "M'sure me runnin' off ain't go'n' skewer de peace dey're plannin'…"
The Professor remained placid, "I speak of the individual, Gambit. It is not selfish to think of oneself from time to time." He offered a half-hearted smile and turned to wheel himself towards the door. "I know these discussions might be getting quite hackneyed of late, but I only wish for you to know…there is always a choice." The closing door marked his absence.
Remy moved from the bed to stand at the window. He gazed outside at blooming oranges, pinks, violets, and reds. The sun was setting. Another day would soon end. His jaw tightened at memories of New Orleans.
There were plenty of days where he and the other boys could enjoy themselves, spreading mischief about the Big Easy until they were notoriously recognized. But there were other times, potent times, that Remy would never forget, moments where it seemed he was chained, forced to obey at every steely order. This was never made obvious; the commands came under guise of suggestion and advice; yet nothing was ever expected but fealty and obedience. He never protested, probably wasn't even aware of it most of the time except for predictable pangs of annoyance and incitement. It was duty. It was responsibility. It was family and work and life. Being a Thief was life.
Remy ran a hand through his hair and thought of the women he had scorned, the friends he had betrayed, the unethical deeds he had committed—all for the Guild. Because he didn't care about anything else. Ambition spurred him on to become a better and better Thief, to eventually ascent to that coveted position of guild patriarch—but had he ever really wanted it? Yes, there would come power. Yes, there would come luxury. Yes, there would come affluence… Yet, ambition would only take him so far before he snapped under the burdens. Being the best of a trade wasn't as wonderful as the masses were led to believe. He knew this. So he had left with Magneto.
And now the Guild had come calling.
Remy adjusted the collar of his trench coat, straightened the nooks and snags of his uniform. He made sure of the location and security of his bo-staff and other customary gadgets. Then he left the room.
The two boys, Ray and Roberto, had informed him earlier that his Harley Davidson sat safely in the garage. Remy planned to ride it back to the Acolyte base, greet and bid Piotr and St. John au revoire, then head for his private New York City apartment. After packing a few things, he could be off to New Orleans.
Remy made it all the way to the staircase landing. His eyes flicked in the direction of the girls' dormitory. And he froze. Rogue's room sat in view, the door ajar. A faint light was on within, illuminating streaks of warmth through the door cracks. Was she in there? He hadn't planned on leaving Bayville without saying good bye first, but the temptation of putting it off till the very last minute was awfully strong.
He shut his eyes and turned away.
The X-kids were causing mischief downstairs. Something exploded in the rec room, followed by peals of laughter and aggravated rebukes. Remy moved away from the source of noise. Fate would be playing heinous games with him if he were to bump into someone; justifying actions was a bitch.
He figured the safest route would be to cut through the kitchen, leave through the patio door, and go around the mansion to the garage on the other side. He was less likely to see anyone that way. Nobody would know where he was or whether or not he had left or stayed. Their uncertainty would give him time to decide and act.
The kitchen was empty. Remy strode through resolutely. Without warning the pantry door swung open. He walked right into it, shoving it back against a dainty figure behind. A girly shriek erupted and someone toppled to the linoleum. Startled, Remy stepped around the door to find a green-haired lass on the floor, a bag of potato chips torn open beside her.
"Sorry," she mumbled, cheeks tainting pink. "I'm—uh—well, nobody'd give me proper junk food so I got kinda desperate." She struggled woozily to her feet.
"S'fine, p'tite," Remy said, steadying her by the arm. "Y' all right now?"
Lorna nodded, pushing aside her rich green locks. "Oh, yeah, fine," she assured him. When she looked at his face, she gave a start then immediately calmed. "You must be that Gambit guy. Cool eyes. Are they part of your mutantness?"
Heavy thoughts burdened Remy's mind, but he couldn't help but smirk at the girl's word choice. "Oui, an' y'must be Lorna Danes," he replied. "Nice hair."
Lorna blushed under the attention of an older, gorgeously debonair young man. "Thanks. Kind of annoying sometimes—people just think I'm punk or something."
"Sure is an eye-catcher," Remy said absent-mindedly. He helped her to sit in a chair, glancing cautiously back to the kitchen door. "Make sure y'get back t'dat bed 'fore de Doc finds y'disobeyin' orders."
Lorna huffed. "I've been stuck in bed since I got here. And I'm not getting better anytime soon…" She frowned curiously as she winced, as though uncertain about what caused her discomfort. Her lime eyes spontaneously flickered around the kitchen, seeing nothing. "What'd you say?" she asked Remy, rubbing the back of her skull.
He blinked, "Quoi? Didn' say anyt'ing."
"I could've sworn…whatever." Lorna shook her head in exasperation, vigorously rubbed her eyes. "God, no wonder my parents kicked me out. They're not even my real parents so they can't deal with this… And I've been stuck in bed for weeks, not getting any better despite what that doctor says. I'm actually hearing voices in my head now!" She laughed dryly, bordering on the brink of hopelessness, then seemed to remember she wasn't alone. "Sorry, I don't usually whine like this. I'll get back to bed now." Embarrassed, she stood unevenly to her feet. When Remy tried to help she waved him off, "Uh-uh, no need. I made it up here; I can get back." She started for the Med Bay.
"Ey, p'tite," Remy called.
Lorna turned around curiously.
"Chin up," he said. "T'ings can' stay bad forever, d'accord?"
She looked at him for a few seconds, then a wan smile curved her faintly green lips. She turned, and with hands on the walls, made her way back to bed.
Remy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had delayed long enough, and just to confabulate with some mutant girl he hardly knew. Back in the day, he wouldn't have wasted the time. Maybe things had changed more than obviously so. As he walked out the kitchen and around the mansion's exterior, the curious part of him wondered about Lorna's ailment (why would she be hearing voices?), though only for a few seconds. The garage came into view. Luckily for him, someone had left the gate up.
Remy spotted his motorcycle propped against the wall. He kicked up the stand and wheeled the bike outside. He led it around the building, each step bringing him closer and closer to the front, closer and closer to departing. He didn't want to acknowledge that once he left, he might not work up the nerve to return, no matter how much he intended to. Life always seemed to work out that way for him.
He stood before the Xavier Institute's front steps. The plan was to leave, settle the last of Acolyte business, get stuff ready in New York, then come back? It seemed so very inefficient, running around back and forth…
Remy lifted the helmet from its hatch; he freed the straps and raised it towards his head. He paused. From behind him the front door slowly opened. After a few moments it closed. He knew who it was without having to turn. His arms lowered and he turned his head infinitesimally, unwilling to face her point blank. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her approach.
"Didn't expect this," she said flatly. She released a dry laugh of disbelief and hugged herself. When Remy turned to look at her, he saw the amber hues of twilight embracing her with a soft, warm glow, shrouding her in a veil of delicacy, of tragically tarnished innocence. He looked away in shame. Her eyes remained fixed on him, questioning, doubtful. Afraid?
"I was jus' go'n' to…" Remy couldn't remember the rest of the sentence. What was he planning to do? Disgust at himself boiled at the pit of his stomach. He was just going to run. He told himself he was coming back, but somehow he knew that would he end up explaining about Belladonna through a phone call or letter, heck maybe even email if it was faster. Always the easy way out for him. Especially when things hit too close to the heart.
Rogue looked at him expectantly. Her heavy gaze only further inhibited his words.
Snap out o'it, LeBeau, he scolded himself. He shook his head, set the helmet on the motorcycle seat. He ran a hand through his hair. "Don' even know what t'say," he muttered. "Dis is…" He shook his head again, looked away.
Rogue descended the last of the steps. She stood before him, willing him to look at her, but he kept his gaze averted. "After all the crap we've been through, you're just gonna pack up and leave. Without a word. Like…like ya don't care." She sounded defeated and tired, as though she had given up on something.
"Was go'n' come back," Remy said, knowing how it looked. "Dere're jus' some things I have t'take care of…" The words faded, sounded so shallow and insensitive. He looked at her with utmost sincerity, "Chere, m'sorry I didn' tell y'sooner. Really."
Rogue suddenly released a curt laugh, scornful and condescending. "Ah feel like time's just rewound or somethin', like we didn't get past all those heinous problems and we're just where we started again…" Her bottom lip quivered as she looked at him with steady eyes. "Where neither of us trusts the other enough to accomplish anything."
Her words stung. But what did he expect? To her it seemed he had kept his engagement a secret on purpose, betraying her trust. She might have thought he loved Belladonna or something, that he was purposely keeping such a commitment from her for whatever twisted Thief ends…
"What's Belladonna like?"
Remy stared at her. How did she know her name? Then he remembered Rogue had absorbed him; she was bound to have some of his memories. Then he wondered why she hadn't figured out sooner that he had a fiancé—but she probably didn't go digging around the memories of her psyches on purpose…
"Is she pretty?" Rogue continued to ask, with almost childlike curiosity.
But Remy saw her self-inflicted torture. "She's nothing compared t'you, Rogue," he murmured. "Nothing at all."
Rogue narrowed her eyes as if to say 'Don't start'. She blew a snowy strand of hair from her eyes and sighed shakily. "Ah don't know why this always has ta be so hard," she said dolefully. "Ah mean, is it even worth it? Why do we do this to ourselves? As if our lives weren't messed up enough without all this drama…"
Remy frowned, "What y'sayin'?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Rogue seemed to lose track of her thoughts. She looked past him, became preoccupied with the sunset, with memories as gracious as the warm blushes that streaked the darkening sky. She blinked, and her lashes batted weakly against her pale cheeks.
He watched her every movement, observed her every detail—and it all felt like some masochistic torture.
"Remy…" she said breathily, eyes still fixed on the sunset. "Ah'm sorry."
He took a step toward her. "What do you have t' be sorry for, chere?" he asked gently. He was the one that was engaged. He was the one that was messing up so horribly. She was always so hard on herself, he knew. She would always find some way to place herself at fault. He didn't want that to happen.
She backed away from him. It was like a slap to his face. "Ah was looking for ya," she said, "when Ah realized you were leaving and...Ah'm not sure what Ah expected, but Ah guess it was too much. Ah can't keep putting all this on you…"
"Rogue, I was go'n' t'explain. Sooner or later," he added, for honesty's sake. He wouldn't make himself out to be some righteous knight. It was the last thing he was.
"Later," she quipped sadly, "very much later, looks like." She forced a smile, however wan it was. "This is probably for the best anyway," she said. "Ah mean, life'll be simpler when we're out of each other's ways, right?"
Her tone was unnerving, her suggestion atrocious. It took all his self-control to keep from grabbing her and never letting go. "M'not sure what y'getting' at, chere," he lied, "but don' get all determined 'bout somet'ing 'fore y'hear de whole truth. Belle an' I aren't…it isn' what it sounds like."
Rogue huffed softly, "That you're engaged? That your brother came to fetch ya for the wedding?"
"Rogue…"
"Just go, Remy," she said, with such stern resolution that she seemed to be trying to convince herself of its rectitude. "Ah think we both need the space to think things through."
"Think what through?" he suddenly blurted. Frustration mounted to its peak—confusion towards her request, loathing towards his rash actions. She was right in some aspects—why did they do this to themselves? "Dis ain't 'bout me an' Belladonna anymore, is it?" He strode forward, grabbed her shoulders, firmly turned her to face him. "Y'questionin' us, me an' you. Y'don' t'ink s'worth it? Dis one heinous break-up, chere, 'cause I know y'don' wan' t'call it quits."
Rogue shoved his arms off, glaring through quickly welling eyes. She desperately blinked the tears back. "Well maybe Ah've just had enough!" she hissed. "Maybe Ah'm fed up with this twisted rollercoaster, with everything that keeps going wrong, and always having the good moments ruined just when they start and all these secrets that make me wonder whether or not you're even who Ah think ya are and—and—" She clenched her eyes shut, hand going up to massage her forehead. "Ah have this feeling…that it'll never stop," she said, voice bereft of its former vehemence. "Me and you, we'll always be like this. Hurting. All the time." She shrugged, an absurd gesture of nonchalance, "Feels like that anyway."
Remy finally understood her point. And he agreed somewhat. Their entire relationship had just been riddled with doubt and insecurity, with pain and wounded emotions. Maybe it wasn't the outside world that was tweaking with their lives. Maybe it was just them. And yet he couldn't accept that vile cliché of "not meant to be". Wouldn't.
"Dis isn't what y'want," he told her. "It isn't what I want."
"So?" Rogue challenged, voice quaky, as if she didn't want to speak those words. "Who cares what either of us wants? Things'll work out the way they're gonna. And Ah'm tired of fighting, of trying and always getting trampled over." She expelled a shaky breath, "Just go, Remy. Please. At least for now."
He could. He could go and come back after they'd both had time to think and calm down. But some gut instinct warned him that if he left now, there was no way to salvage the situation, to keep Rogue from permanently shutting him out. So why did he want to? To give up just like she did? Maybe if she wasn't willing to keep going, he shouldn't be either. Her words held sway, seemed reasonably plausible—but how could they know what tomorrow would bring? What if all troubles and angst ended…? He suddenly realized Rogue could only take—would only take—so many blows before she could take no more. Him, too, probably.
She had already turned around and was walking slowly up the mansion steps.
He watched in silence, not quite believing what had just happened. With every step she took, a little bit more of him was chipped away to a black void. He saw her hesitate. Did she want him to stop her, to run after her and completely disregard those seemingly resolute convictions?
Rogue scaled the last steps and entered the mansion. She disappeared with the click of a closing door.
A late summer breeze wafted past, rustling the grass and trees. Remy looked down at the pavement before lifting his head to the darkening sky. The last remnants of twilight fought for sway among the dominating blues and black, but soon the sun completely disappeared and all light had gone out.
Remy strapped on the helmet and mounted his motorcycle. He revved the engine loudly, purposely trying to drown out any thoughts. He couldn't think right now, couldn't quite feel either. He didn't want to. As he peeled away from the mansion, he looked back once to see if she was watching. She wasn't. Jaw tightening, he stepped on the accelerator, wishing the gusty wind to increase its deafening roar.
Ouch, huh? Don't get too depressed-feel like I have to say that in case there are too many angry readers... But things are gonna get better! And this next chapter is the one called "One Night"-sorry for that inconsistency.