Summary: Rogue's POV. Words in italics are thoughts or past memories.
Disclaimer: Idea from Marvel and inspiration by katjen's stories. Title is from a Bob Dylan song.
Chapter 1: Exit
New Orleans
She slid from street to street now. Staring out over the veranda with each hot day blurring into one another. Walking the streets brought almost a distinct feeling that he was there with her, enveloping her in a sense of restlessness. The scents from the street swirled around her: swirling tobacco, the smell of cloves, spicy musk of cologne and the smell of curry and pepper. New Orleans simmered with the spices of cooking, the occasional tang of the accent flirting through the main streets intermingling with the tourists and the noisy hum of the cars broadcasting whatever was on the radio.
It's been a month and he still did come. Is this what you expected? A treacherous voice whispered. A brief encounter and he was going to leave the one place he felt as though he belonged? Did you think he would just run to you? But… her heart raged that night…the night she died…. his feelings opened up with Xavier's telepathy. His eyes. The trust that had gathered all through his eyes, that flickered and burned. Unable to reach for him as she laid there staring, unable to touch him. It was though a piece of herself had resigned to this disappointment. After all, wasn't her life a string of theses expectations? Another voice within, a stronger voice insisted ….he would not tell him…he basically wanted to gut you there twice in a weeks time. As if you telling him your love would change what you had done.
Gently running her gloved hands up her arms. Pressing them to her temples focusing on not crying. I will not cry. Just don't think of …
Aw petite yu' jus' avoid' wha ya' want.
"Remy?" – her voice cracked. Rogue broke out of her slumping walk and rushed around the corner attempting not to touch the throng of people around her. The noises rushed around but no…. There it was, his voice!
Turning the corner stood a man with black shaggy hair, next to a young giggling girl with a wide hat flopping over the shades of her sunglasses. He slouched against the wall with a toothpick in his mouth gritting it through his teeth as he reached forward to the paper in the girl's hand.
The breathe whooshed out of her and along came the feeling of diminished anticipation. Dumbly she stood there swaying.
No it wasn't him, just another Cajun flirting with another tourist.
She giggled and held out the tour guide; "Well I know this is the sight to see. The French Quarter…but if your talking about something to pick me up…"
Ahh a cruel trick how her ears yearn for his voice. That smoky seductive inflection that embodied what she desired. Cruel of her heart to fall for what it inevitably would be destroyed for in the end. All by a womanizing mutant, red eyed, seductive speaking Cajun. Catching her self reverting to fantasy was happening each day now. Often in the heat of the night around 4 AM, she would twist in the sheets. Wrapping the covers around her just like the gauze he wrapped around her. His bed. His heart beating against her. His whispering voice, don leave me chere, come back t' me. Was that him? On the street, on the cell phone? The flash of a head of red hair …a slinky walk, confidence brimming over each step….the hitch of his mouth in the smirk. She often would run her hands across the window in her hotel room tracing imaginary lines to smooth away the smirk.
Unwilling the tears burned in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Shoulders shaking, Rogue abruptly turned and knocked into a person. Hurrying to run from the familiar sound of the drawl.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
She traced the path to the river…where Remy once laid with Belle and whispered the love… that was not meant to be. Mon amour. She could not scrap him from her thoughts; his presence had burned itself through her soul. The city continued to fuel it. The never ending desire to see his flickering eyes. To feel his hands reaching out for her. Tracing her jaw… feather touches ….don' tell meah ta stop.
Rogue lay down on the damp grass. What now? She thought blankly. She was safe now that Raven did not know she was alive. Remy was not here, his team turned her away. Solitude rattled through her thoughts. Could she go back to the life of nothing? Sad eyes of an angel flittered through her mind. Why in her own turmoil and depression had she not focused on what Raven was doing? Turning on her side and watching a boat skip over short waves…a wave of shame rushed over her…over her blind trust. Over the affection of someone who used her for personal gain. Blindly following Irene's fused visions that stated how to cheat the future. To remake it in how it would fit for your own desire.
"Ah can't keep doin' this ta mah self".
Funds were quickly diminishing from what Dominick had given her and she no longer would be able to stay at the hotel. What now? Mississippi? New York? No…she could not…not after, everything. Mississippi then. Closing her eyes…she counseled herself to the thought that perhaps she could find the real Deborah.
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New Orleans at night.
Slinging her tote over her shoulder, Rogue made her way down the brightly lit street. Neon lights splashed over her clothes alternating the colors to an eerie glow. After leaving the river bank she checked out of the hotel and decided to budget her money, either to take a bus or perhaps hitchhike to ration her money.
The desk clerk watched her nervously shift from foot to foot holding the crinkling paper in her hand…...wanting to let go, wanting to stay…so tight in her hand.
Pressing the paper to her lips she left the letter at the desk addressed to Mr. Remy Lebeau, her last piece of closure. The last twist of the knife by her hand.
Turning away from the main strip of Burbon and Decanter, Rogue roamed down the streets, drawing on a stray memory from Remy. Somewhere to get a drink…to settle herself….for the trip the final goodbye. Her legs stopped moving in front of a smoky window with the words craved into the wooden sign "the Chochary".
The jukebox here was good.
Rogue pushed the door open and was greeted not to a tourist filled sight, but the townie scene. Primarily of men…and leather skinned women roughened by the sun. She hesitated before greeting several pairs of eyes with her own. Taking a seat at the bar muttering a draft special and resigning a few precious dollars for the bitter taste.
It was unusually quiet except for the sounds of conversation in the air. No famed jukebox Remy. Except for the rustling movement of…dancing?
A flash of color…a swing of hair. A young girl was dancing in the middle of the bar, where tables had been pushed back, by the jukebox. She was young…too young to be in the bar or even out late at night. No one took notice of her. It was as if the dancing was a normal occurrence and no attention except for Rouge's was drawn. The bar was filled with locals and either she was the daughter of the craggily bartender or a regular. Waiting for daddy to stop drinking to return home.
No sound emitted from the jukebox, however headphones were adorned on the girl's head. Long blond blended hair flirting with brown was slashed with green, orange, blue, violet, yellow, fuchsia, red…flickering over the dull lights. Waving like the gauze. Moving to the unheard beat, the girl turned and folded unfolded her arms …like a ballet dancer. The girl's eyes were closed; lips moved silently mouthing to words.
Folded unfolded…
She was too young….to be hiding from touch.
"Heah ah git th' next one". Rogue did not move. Still transfixed by the girls dance, puzzled by her own sudden interest. A presence was next to her and it was hovering. "That be fin" "no thanks" Rogue muttered. A large meaty hand suddenly placed itself on her gloved hand adding a tight hard squeeze. "Listin' her girly, this ain't no hot spot" "Pickins are slim, take the drink". Another squeeze.
Rouge closed her eyes. She did not want to touch him, but rude words or the ignoring attempt of a turned head would not work for this one. She could feel the smirks and the eyes on her. They were enjoying this. Better to leave, and get his hand off of hers. Flinching from his head close to hers, Rogue smiled and turned through clenched teeth… "Listin ahm-'
"Looks like you got merry Mels attention…Lou"…muttered the bartender. Pause. "Lou's" hand remained but his body tensed the slightest then relaxed when a couple men stood up across the bar. His line of vision fixed over Rogue's head.
"Getting a little close there, when it is obvious she does not want your attention or affection" a voice rang out.
Rogue turned her head again and there, standing with the headphones dangling from her neck, was the dancing girl. Hands on hips, lips in a narrow frown. Her hair, shimmering under the overhead lights and gently swinging from the overhead rotating fan. She looked tiny and non threatening.
"Ah Mel, ah wa' jus 'bein' hospitble t' th' tourist here." Lou's other hand slid to her shoulder, a breath away from the sliver of skin separating from her neckline of her shirt.
Tensing from the breath of almost contact, Rogue slowly made her body slide away from him.
The girl was studying Rogue intently. Her eyes wide framed her face. They slowly slide to where Lou's hand was on Rogue's shoulder, narrowed, and looked back at Rogue. Unblinking…………… shining…………flickering?
A smile suddenly breaked through. Jutting her hip, the girl's voice came across icy and mature . "Lou, let the girl finish her drink…we don't want no trouble here now do we?" Her right arm lowered and slowly clenched into a fist. The bar gave a sudden intake of breath. Lou's eyes blinked and he nervously licked his lips but then his grip became tighter. Snorted…"pleas' petite. Ah heard stories but ahm not gonnin' git worked up ovr' yur' concern here. Ain't woth' th' time." His arm wrapped around her shoulders.
Time slowed. Shuffling of chairs, men across the bar began surrounding the petite girl and Rouge and the girl raised her fist.
A swelling began in her chest, a tightening pressure. The hair on her skin began to rise and goose bumps broke out creeping out on her neck and on Lou's arm……and
Lou's hands were suddenly gone.
The girl had clenched her fist and the bar vibrated?
Silence. Every person in the bar had their eyes on the girl now.
Lou shrugged his shoulders… backed away. His eyes wide like a rabbit's. "yor too yung an'ways…. " With that, the exit of Lou and his hands was followed by several men towards the back. The tightness in her chest began to deflate. Rogue stared at the girl, who started back. Her eyes continued to study Rogue. With a flick, the headphones were back on...and with a turn the dancing resumed.
Standing up and pushing the stool back, Rogue grabbed her tote and left the bar. Her beer condensing on the bar…barely touched. Her exit hasty. It was a mistake coming here. Another reason why she should not stay any longer.
Wh't was that? Moving away from the bar to the bright lights of Decanter, she replayed what just happened. The girl was a mutant, obviously but she looked so young. You were young werent' ya? Rouge stopped and leaned against the brick wall. Frowning she realized that she had sprinted not walked from the bar. Shakily she placed a hand over her chest. A shadow slid over her body. A hand grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her head against the brick wall. Spots erupted in front of her eyes. The heat of the blossoming bruises added a dizzying vertigo feeling. SHIT her gloves . Hands grabbed her hair and pulled, ripping out strands. No screams. Pain was welcomed. It mirrored her internal torment.
She was then flung into the nearby dumpster. Rogue felt her hip pop as she landed. Pain exploded up her spine circling her chest. The rustle of a zipper sounded as Lou grinned over her.
"Ya scream girly yo' be regretin' you learn' t speak." No punk bitch tells meah wha' t' do." Blood blurring her vision, she managed to smile. No sugar. The pain of absorption would be worth this. Spoiling the memory of New Orleans… of Remy's city.
A small hand grabbed Lou's wrist, and pinned it neatly back with a loud crack. Pain intensified over his features as another small hand crushed over his mouth. The girl…
"Now Lou, I know your drunk and now I see you really are stupid for not listening to those stories they tell". The girl with one arm picked up the man, held him up as she craned her head back and stood on the tips of her toes to cover his mouth. With not a backward glance she tossed Lou down the street. Rogue's vision blurred watching the body skidding across the street and landing with a splintering thud.
The girl was coming to her. Movements towards Rogue's face, "don' touch meah" Rogue whistled. Shit my ribs.
The girl continued to move, "your hurt" "no don' touch" Rogue weakly lifted her hand. Lack of sleep and eating had severely weakened her. And whatever this girl could do…Rogue wasn't sure she wanted to absorb it.
"If it's your skin". She said simply. "I won't touch it". Those words stopped her cold, hand dropping to the ground. The girl was now kneeling by her calmly. Her eyes peered into Rogue's. The closer she got, the more Rogue stiffened.
"It is ok. I can …I can see your power….I saw it in the bar when he almost touched you." She stated this so matter of fact. The girl had taken a bandana out of her bag and took the rag and made a movement to wipe the blood off around her eyes.
"I didn't think he would do anything this cruel. It's good that he did not know you are a mutant". The girl's voice was clear and precise, not once marred with an accent. So out of place with the atmosphere and the rainbow hair. "He is quiet the redneck bigot."
Rogue stared at the young girl… a girl who had flung the man down the street as though she tossed a burning match. She steadily continued to wipe the blood off Rogue's face.
"Melody"
"Wha'?". Her head was turned with the painted hair streaks cascading down her back. "That's my name", she stated briskly "can you stand?" "I have antiseptics at my apartment, its ways off but a taxi can get us there in fifteen minutes."
"No, to both".
"Well I'm not leaving you here, and the hospital is out of the question. I'm not taking you to any Cajun healer either. Voodoo shit indeed." Melody's lips quirked.
Rogue began to slowly shake her head, stopping as nausea began. Melody continued "You can stay, leave or whatever. I feel somewhat responsible for this. I will not touch you…your power flares up when people get near to you." Rogue blinked. "You probably have a concussion".
"Whu' do ya mean.". Her eyes slid curiously to Melody's unclenched hands. Melody tilted her head. "You glow… and it intensifies when people get near you". Sort of like… she bit her lip out the corner of her mouth….a lightening bug". "Not saying you're a bug…" a small smile. Rogue continued to stare as the girl looked out towards the street, one hand had slipped into her purse and pulled out a cell phone.
"Up to you I can either stay here as you lay next to garbage or you can get cleaned up and on your way." She stood and looked down.
She held out her small hand.
