Knocking At Your Door

Chapter 7

By Kanshisha Tenshi

            Magneto, and the Acolytes gathered, collectively gasped at what they saw—or, rather, didn't see.  After all, Remy LeBeau had just disabled most, if not all, of Magneto's surveillance devices.  Needless to say, Erik Magnus Lensherr was not at all pleased.

            "The insolence!  The disrespect!  How dare he do that to me?  He knows how important it is to me that we keep tabs on our enemies!"

            "Well, mate, looks like 'e's keepin' 'is enemies closer'n 'is friends."

            "And what do you mean by that, Mr. Allerdyce?"

            "'Aven't you seen the way 'e looks at that sheila?  I mean, she's pretty an' all, but Remy usually doesn't blow this kinda job on any ol' looka.  'E's got it bad."

            "Pluz it'z not like he'z provink anyt'ing to her by disabling ze devices.  She didn't even know zey vere zere," Piotr threw in.

            "Er…whatever 'e just said."

            "Look," Sabertooth growled.  "One o' you runts has t' go in there an' convince him to turn 'em back on…or turn 'em on yerself."

            "Good thinking," Magneto said, trying not to sound bored with the simple plan.

            "I also think we should pull that kid offa the job."  Now, that would have given Magneto a moment of pause…if his genius mind hadn't thought of it already.

            "I agree.  Mr. LeBeau has proven that he obviously can't handle any decent-looking woman, even if he was sent to spy on her.  Mr. Allerdyce, you are to report to Xavier's mansion immediately and take Gambit away from his…distraction."

            "Er…right, mate."  And so St. John Allerdyce set off, for the second time (in this story), for the X-Mansion.

            Rogue had woken up bright and early that fine morning, the skies cloudy and the air nice and cold.  She'd started to bake something, she knew—she just couldn't remember what—and the next thing she knew, a portable radio she'd turned on earlier began playing Incubus's "Wish You Were Here."  Soon she was dancing along, holding her large wooden spoon in one hand and belting out the song, oblivious to the two eyes burning a hole in her, following her every move; or the ears only a space apart from those eyes, listening to her every word, every note.

            He'd heard the song before, but it held special meaning when she sang it to no one in particular.  However, he'd just have to change that last aspect.

            "Chére, Remy never knew y'cared!  You don' have t' wish anymo', Roguie, Remy's here."

            Blushing profusely, she turned stiffly to stare at him for a minute.  Then she regained her composure, and the stare was replaced with her trademark scowl.

            "Ah wasn't singin' t' you, swamp rat!  Ah nevah would!"

            "Denial ain' jus' a river in Egypt, chére," he retorted calmly.

            "An' yo' quotin' an author famous fo' a book on th' Mississippi," she replied just as calmly.  She couldn't, however, disguise the satisfied smirk that crossed her features.  Blinking in surprise, Remy realized he had in fact quoted the renowned Mark Twain.  He was left somewhat speechless.  Then the doorbell rang.

            "Saved by th' bell."

            "An' Ah hated that show!"

            "I'll get it, petite.  You practice yo' karaoke skills, non?"

            Le Diable Blanc arrived at the mansion's doors and was mildly surprised to see his partner in crime, Pyro, standing outside.  The Aussie sniffed indignantly, dusting off his shoulder.

            "Get outta th' bloody doorway, LeBeau!  Can't ya let a bloke in?  I find it frightfully chilly out 'ere, y'know."

            "Non, Remy t'ink you can stand outside, mon ami.  W'a's dis all about, hein?  Ol' Mags upset 'bout what Gambit did las' night?"

            "Yeah, well, your li'l stunt got Kitty Cat thinkin' 'e's actually smart, Mags even more pissed off, and…well, other stuff."

            "What ot'er stuff?"

            "Well, for one thin', both Big Guys wancha off th' job.  Sorry, mate.  An' they wancha t' turn th' goods back on 'fore ya come back.  Ya know how it is."

            "Non, I don'.  You can go back an' tell dose hommes dat dey can kiss Remy's—sexy—ass.  An' also, she's de only femme 'ere!  Dere ain't nobody else home!  Dere's nobody to spy on; Mags just has his tighty whities in a bunch.  Stop by de store on de way home, an' pick him up some Midol an' t'ongs.  Monsieur Kitty Cat'll 'preciate dat las' bit."

            "Ouch."

            As St. John started to walk away, Remy called out one more thing:

            "By de way, I quit."

Author's Notes:  Sorry for the late update!  Ahem, I mean, VERY late update!  My computer crashed and it's been taking me forever to replace some of the files I've lost, and reinstall some of my programs.  Fortunately, none of my fanfics were harmed when my files were deleted—but that's where procrastination comes in.  I am so, so, SO sorry!

            Also, I know this was a short chapter and kinda crappy, but I hope it was worth at least some of the delay…!  I'll try to keep updating this story as often as I can, and I know better now than to make any promises other than that.  'Til next time (which I hope won't be too far away)!