A/N: Much thanks to my Betas - deadxdreamer & jakane-5 - your sufferingon my account ismost appreciated! And special thanks to all my reviewers: you all bring a misty tear to my eye. sniffsniff
The sleek, silver '69 Jaguar streaked down Interstate 684 like a silver bullet, top down, music blaring. Remy was still amazed that Emma let him talk her into borrowing the classic. It was probably the only thing she owned that wasn't white. Even Emma seemed to appreciate the fact that a color so pristine just did not do the machine justice.
What more could he have asked for; fast car, wind whipping through is hair, loud music, gorgeous girl at his side. Remy glanced in Rogue's direction. The little black Givenchy dress looked as if it were made just for her. The long sleeves and high neck were sheer down to where a hint of cleavage peeked above the seam of soft, fluid velvet that hugged her every curve. Her head lulled back against the head rest, eyes closed, luxuriating in the unseasonably warm weather. Her chestnut and white mane flowing behind her, her face aglow with the fierce orange radiance of a spectacular Indian Summer sunset. What more could he have asked for indeed.
Rogue could feel his eyes on her. In all the years that he had teased and taunted her, she had developed something of a sixth sense alerting her to when Remy had her in his sights. She let a sly little grin cross her lips as she lazily rolled her head to the side, slowly opening her eyes. His head was half turned in her direction, sunglasses riding low on the bridge of his nose, the brilliant light of the retreating sun framing his head like a halo. Well, maybe a dented, slightly off kilter halo anyway. His red on black eyes always made him look as if he were up to something and, usually, he was, but all traces of that familiar mischievous expression were replaced by something else. He seemed to be gazing at something far away even though his eyes were firmly locked on hers, his warm smile never wavering.
Remy reached out and plucked her silk wrapped hand from her lap and placed a gentle kiss in her palm. Her smile broadened as he returned her hand to her knee, the cocky smirk and devilish gleam in his eyes returning as he looked back to the road. The lure of the throaty purr that emanated from under the hood proved to be too much for him to resist.With a quick downshift, he sped towards New York.
More than a few heads turned as the Jaguar rumbled into Manhattan. It was amazing that a fast car driven by a supermodel gorgeous couple still attracted any attention at all in the beaten, battered, jaded Big Apple.
Emma had placed a few restrictions on this little trip, namely, that the Jag was to be parked in her private garage at Frost Tower upon their arrival. No exceptions. Rogue quirked a curious glance in his direction. The location was raising a few questions. Remy had been unusually quiet for most of the ride, not that cruising at well over the speed limit with the top down was conducive to conversation. She knew there was something brewing in that head of his.
What are you up to this time?
Her eyes narrowed as a sly smile crept across her lips. She could only imagine what he was planning. Every time he put this much effort into his surprises, he was intending to push her limits. She never really thought of herself as sheltered or repressed until Remy weaseled his way into her life. He was all about showing her what he felt she had been missing all these years. She had finally come to realize that he just might be right. She did restrain herself from people and new experiences because of her mutation, even in situations where it wouldn't have been an issue, like a form of self punishment. Lots of his ideas centered on more carnal pursuits. His creativity simply astounded her in that respect. He always seemed to know exactly how far she would go always giving her the reigns, leaving her feeling secure enough to experiment.
Remy returned her smile as he brushed his hand down her thigh, just to the hem of her dress, then gave a small, reassuring squeeze. It was time for both of them to focus on the exquisite night before them.
"Mr. LeBeau, Miss Rogue." Two attendants stepped up to the car, opening the doors. "Your car will be around momentarily."
The older man slipped into the Jag, driving off into the shadows, as the younger man waved them to the booth.
"Your driver tonight will be Jorge. He will be at your disposal for the evening."
Remy looked at him like a tourist in a foreign land who didn't know the language. A car rounded the bend at the far end of the garage, emerging from the shadows like a wraith.
"You really pulled out all the stops this time, did'n you." Rogue squeezed his hand, grasping at his arm with her other, pressing her head to his shoulder.
Remy chuckled in spite of himself. Emma had sent the Bentley. She might be the biggest queen bitch that ever lived but she sure did have a great sense of style.
"Oui." He placed a careful kiss in her hair, lingered there for fleeting moment. Her hair was scented like vanilla and warm sunlight and he committing the fragrance to memory. "Only de best for you, chere." He purred, his warm breath caressing her ear, so close yet achingly far away. "Leave everyt'ing t'me t'night, mon amour."
Jorge held the door for his guests bidding them enter with a tip of his hat and a genuine smile. Rogue slid across the quilted leather seat, Remy sideling up beside her.
"So where are we goin' or are you gonna keep me guessin' all night?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her, at least, that's the title she gave it. She'd have an easier time coaxing blood from a stone than an answer out of Remy that he didn't want to give.
A sly smirk crept across Remy's face. She was worse than a chile on Christmas morn when it came to surprises. She thrived on being in control, the need for it manifesting in every aspect of her life in compensation for the lack of control over her power. And he was her greatest challenge. As long as he could keep her guessing, she'd always be back for more.
"Trust me, chere." He crooned.
"Every time you say that ah end up in trouble, darling." Her playful sarcasm sparkling in her emerald eyes.
"Den, at least, I always give you somet'ing t'look forward to, non?" He draped his right arm around her, pulling her in close as his left hand fell to his side, brushing past the bulge in his jacket pocket. The little blue box. His thumb passed over it, back and forth, setting the pace for his racing thoughts.
Well, here we are. I'm doin' dis. I'm really doin' dis. A small sigh escaped as he nervously wrestled with his tentative thoughts. Rogue looked to him knowingly, the question already pursed on her lips.
Damn! Remy silently cursed himself for letting his poker face slip that badly. But he recovered quickly. He headed off her line of questioning with a flash of a smile.
"Bien, I be busy beatin' de hommes away wit a stick t'night. You look so beautiful." His gaze melted into hers, losing himself in that sea of green. Rogue's cheeks actually flushed slightly.
How does he still do that to me?
That liquid crimson gaze could still reduce her to a giggling school girl despite her best efforts to resist it. He didn't even need to use the charm.
"Where to, sir?" Jorge called politely over the intercom.
"Josephine's, on 52nd." Remy replied, still gazing at her like the love sick school boy he felt like.
"Ah never heard of it."
"I know." Remy smiled.
The restaurant was a discreet little place nestled into a small, nondescript building. Outside a small red, white and blue flag fluttered in the breeze across a small gold leafed sign. At the curb, a car sporting international tags and small flags above the headlights clued Rogue in on their dining location.
"French?" Rogue eyed the tiny restaurant apprehensively. "Ah sure hope this ain't one of those nouvelle cuisine places cause ah'm actually hungry."
"You t'ink after all dis time I don' know how much you can eat, chere?" Remy knew he was playing with fire but he just couldn't resist. He immediately threw his arms up in defense as she swatted at him. "Come on, Roguey, it's me." It was the best excuse he had for most of his behavior. "Come on, trust me." He smiled so sweetly, so innocently.
"You know that innocent act won't work with me, mister." Rogue smiled at him in spite of her self.
Jorge opened the car door, passing his charges off to a distinguished looking maitre d'.
"Ah, M. LeBeau. Always a pleasure. Your table is waiting."
The restaurant was small but cozy, the decor rather simple and tastefully done. Candles illuminated each table and a string quartet played softly from a small alcove nestled in the back of the room. Best of all, the enticing aromas of fresh baked bread and savory sauces hinted at a much heartier cuisine than Rogue had been expecting. The maitre d' led them to a secluded table near a small fireplace. The combination of music and crackling logs filtered out the sounds of the other patrons, setting an intimate atmosphere.
The young waiter approached with two menus and began speaking in French. Remy answered him as Rogue scanned the menu, halting almost immediately. It was written in French. She closed her eyes with a small shake of her head. Once again Remy was taking her out of her element.
As the waiter left with Remy's instructions, she dropped her menu to the table.
"It's in French." She stated flatly.
"It's a French restaurant, chere. An aut'entic one at dat." He smiled back at her.
"So ah'm supposed to let you order for me, right?" She questioned suspiciously.
"Mon amour," Remy reached across the table, taking her gloved hands in his. "Dis is de most romantic restaurant in all of New York. It also happens t' have some of de bes' French country cooking I've ever tasted outside of Alsace." He rubbed her fingertips lightly between his own. "Trust me, chere. You'll love it." He gently kissed her fingertips as the waiter returned with a bottle of wine. He uncorked the bottle, pouring two glasses before exiting once again.
Rogue took a deep breath and pushed it out again with a dramatic heaving of her shoulders.
"Ah get to choose dessert then." She asserted with a small grin as she swirled her wine glass.
"I would never t'ink of coming between you and dessert, chere." He grinned back.
Remy quickly parted his legs under the table just as Rogue landed a swift kick to leg of his chair.
After dinner arrived, Rogue relaxed. Hearty, comfort food quelling her anxiety about snails and fatty duck liver. Remy had barely taken his eyes off of her the entire time and watched her daintily poke at her vegetable terrine.
"Remy, what is it? Why you acting so... backwards, darling?"
"Backwards, chere?"
"You never watch me this much and you've barely said a word, not to mention you've barely touched your food."
Remy paused with a chuckle, a dreamy smile lighting up his face. "Rogue, have I tol' you how much I love you?"
Rogue stopped dead in her tracks, her fork hovering half way between her plate and her mouth. Her thoughts started racing. He wasn't being coy. He wasn't teasing. And she had never seen him with that puppy dog look on his face.
Oh my God... Kitty was right. She stared at her fork for a long, obvious moment.
"You say it all the time, sweetheart." She tentatively replied.
"But do you know it? I mean, really know, exactly how much I love you?" He softly pressed her for a response.
Oh god... I'm not ready for this. She dropped her fork to her plate with a 'clink'.
"Remy, ah love you so much and ah know you love me the same..."
Remy reached out and caught her hand in his, caressing the back of it with his thumb.
"Dat's all I need t' know, amante" He cut her words short, sensing the 'but' she was ready to tack onto the thought. "Dat's all I need know." He crooned as he placed a lingering kiss across her fingers before returning her control of her hand.
He returned to picking at his meal, a small smirk latched onto his face. Rogue took a big swig of Merlot, draining the glass in a most uncharacteristic fashion. Suddenly, she wasn't quite so hungry anymore. She wasanxious, excited and terrified all at the same time, her nerves not knowing which sensation to react to first.
The waiter mysteriously appeared from nowhere to pour her another glass of wine as soon as her empty glass came to rest on the table. Rogue quickly raised the glass, intently sipping at her wine once again.
As they finished their meals, the waiter again reappeared as soon as their forks were abandoned besides their plates. He looked to Remy as he spoke again in fluent, native French. Remy answered him and he hurried off to the kitchen.
"He bring de dessert tray for you to choose from, chere." He said as he stood.
"You know ah don't speak French." She shot back with a nervous glance. "Were are you goin'?"
"Jus' point t' what you want, chere, and he'll bring two." He reassured her with a gentle kiss atop her head. "Little boys room... Be right back."
After making use of the facilities, Remy just stared at his reflection in the mirror as he lathered his hands over the sink. With an inward chuckle, he glanced at his soap slickened hands. He turned his attention inward, his focus tightening to a pin point as he willed a charge into the outer most layer of his skin. His hands slowly took on a magenta hue as the soap covering them began to sizzle. With a smirk, he narrowed the concentration of energy and extended it through his skin into a layer just outside himself, wrapping his hands in a glove of kinetic force. The soap began to slide off into the sink like water beading off the hood of Emma's highly waxed Jag. His smirk grew into a grin.
After more than a year of intense effort he was finally back to his full potential. Rogue was going to be more than surprised, perhaps even a bit miffed that he kept this secret from her, but it was for a good cause, the only cause worth all this effort. The final barrier between them could now be circumvented with relative ease on his part. There was nothing to stand between them any longer. He willed the energy back into himself and gave his hands a final rinse.
His hand fell to his jacket pocket once again. His heart picked up the beat as he rehearsed the words in his head one more time, the angry butterflies still residing in gut. He took a deep breath, then shook his hands before quickly rubbing them together.
I can do dis. I can do dis.
Remy squared his shoulders and reached for the door. Dessert was waiting.