TheDreamerLady: I kept on relaying the scene in X-Men, where Rogue and David are in her bedroom, and I'm pretty sure that the walls were pink, lol. Anyway, thanks for being the first person to review again, and yeah, I've been trying to update every week, so enjoy! Chica De Los Ojos Cafe: Yeah, I'm rewriting history; I just hope it all makes sense. One week fast enough? Don't forget to review ishandahalf: It's reviews like yours that make me update fast! Thanks! So, you want the answers? Lol, just read on to see… Hope I didn't keep you waiting for TOO long. Hecate: I know the whole last scene for the last chapter was corny, but I hope this new chapter isn't. Still, constructive criticism is good, and I'm glad you like my start! DemonicGambit: Romy flirting here it is! Anyway, still, it's a hell cool nickname. Hope this lives up to your expectations. Emma: Great. Hope you like the latest installment. Sweety8587: Lol, I know, what does it matter? If it's about Remy… Don't forget to review again! CajunBelle: I know, how awesome Remy can be? Very! Thanks for your compliments. Read on!
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QUESTION: n. An expression of inquiry that invites or calls for a reply; an interrogative sentence, phrase, or gesture.
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A person in love can overlook any fault. A person in lust, however, adores the fault. Her mind replayed the scene over and over again, every detail perfect, every moment exact. The rewind button never let go. There and then an addiction was born, one that would taint her to the grave itself.
Red on black.
Demon eyes.
The image was imprinted in her mind permanently. It seemed as if it would never vanish. Yet the memory still seemed pleasant, not in the happy sense, but in the sense that it was something that was meant to be. It was just like fate had decided to deal a card; one that should have been played years ago.
She shuddered at the deepness of her thoughts, and curled up further into herself, hiding the act by bending further over her salad. The first three periods of school had been void of him. Or maybe he had been in them. Because she had been floating around, pretending to be invisible, waiting for the day to end, and details were scarce, finding no space to remain in her head.
"Isn't he hot?" sighed Katie, the yearning in her voice almost unbearable.
"Definitely," agreed Aimee, almost primly, "But would you really want to go out with a guy who has the whole female population after him?"
Marie did not have to ask about whom they were speaking about. There was only one answer. An answer that made perfect sense whilst being horribly wrong.
"Yeah," Katie placed down her sandwich onto the table, and then immediately picked it up again, flicking aside an ant "But he just so hot!"
"Oh for god's sake!" Marie's calm front broke suddenly. The pain inside her fought to escape, and her irritation evolved into anger. She dropped her fork on the table, and vented her feelings, the truth echoing loudly.
"You don't know anything about him. He's probably the biggest man-whore there was, or better yet, knowing our luck, an axe murderer!"
"Or a mutant," Aimee wrinkled her nose, "Okay, maybe she does have a point, Katie."
Katie shrugged, not in the mood to put an argument and instead took another bite, carefully wiping the mayonnaise off her upper chin.
"What's wrong with mutants?" Marie asked quietly, an old debate suddenly – finally – entering the time stream. Once again, she struggled to level her voice, "They can't help being born what they are."
"Well, then, maybe they shouldn't be allowed to be born!" Aimee clipped, shooting Marie a nasty look.
"What do you mean?" Katie frowned. Her naivety forcefully reminded Marie of Kitty. Amazing, how she had overlooked the resemblance before.
"Well you know how you can find out the gender of a baby before it's born, right?" Aimee lowered her voice, and leant forward, rejecting the busy cafeteria environment dismissively.
"Yeah…" Katie said. Marie was silent.
"Well, apparently, now they've developed a way that tells you whether the child is a mutant or not, before the birth. They're even thinking of proposing compulsory abortions, if it, indeed, is a mutant."
"Oh mah god," Katie's face went pale, "That's horrible!"
Aimee shrugged, "It's all for the better of humanity or at least that's what my father says."
Marie, who had remained quiet all this time, clutching the edge of the table, suddenly spoke.
"What would you do, then, if that was your child?" she said lowly, a deadly chord striking.
"Sorry?" Aimee blinked. But she had understood the question. She just needed time to produce a clever, catty comeback.
"What if the child you're carrying is found to be a mutant?"
Aimee paused and delivered the blow, pitch perfect, "Well the gene is passed through the father, right? - Here she giggled foolishly - "I'll guess I just have to be careful not to screw any mutie freaks, then!"
Marie stared at her in disgust, her thoughts too jumbled to fully say what she truly thought, "You make me sick."
Then she grabbed her bag, roughly, and stalked off. This day was slowly becoming hell, and only she could stall it.
Aimee watched the cafeteria doors bang shut, and then turned to Katie, slightly confused. "What's her problem?"
Katie's answer surprised them both, "What's your problem?"
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She sat down on the oval, the grass freshly mowed, and rested her head lightly on a tree, admiring the crinkly leaves decorating the ground. It was a slightly cloudy day, but a few suns rays filtered through, breathing a warm feeling into the atmosphere.
Her problem was simple, in theory at least. The fact was that she was a mutant, or rather she would be a mutant come soon. A mutant with a toxic curse. Slowly, she held out her hands, examining them. No longer were they pale white, but rich and orange, full of promise. It looked so unnatural, but was further prove that she could touch. In the morning she had glossed over it, her mind still half asleep, but now she understood the full implications. She was no longer a mutant. No longer a freak.
A freak. Is that what they used to call her? It annoyed her so badly that people in the world still thought of mutants like that, and even more so that the technology that Aimee had been talking about was probably already developed in her time; most likely in use. She wondered vaguely that if she would ever see peace between mutants and humans in her lifetime. Or if there would ever be harmony between the two.
Her thoughts were jumpy and erratic and it came to no surprise when they suddenly flitted over to the new student. Remy LeBeau, that was his name, right? Nonetheless thoughts about him were eating away at her. It was his eyes, demonic eyes, ones that could tear away at your very soul. She, herself, however truly knew what they signified. Monsieur LeBeau was a mutant. That thought, naturally, did not upset.
She recalled their meeting, one that should not have occurred at all. One that had not happened at all. And then she thought about that one brief moment when they had stopped and looked at each other. Yet, it was not a case of love at first at sight. It was as if he was watching her reaction. Like, he had no choice in the matter and that it something he had to do. It was strange. Very strange.
Exactly like the mess she was in. However, gradually, throughout the day to be more precise, she had learnt to accept the position she was. She could not change where she was, or what position she was in, but she could change her next course of action. And if she believed that, then there may still be hope and a way out.
Her musings were disturbed as she felt a strange sensation and her head snapped up, years of training still freshly etched into it. She found the cause almost instaneously. An ethereal looking woman, with caramel skin and long flowing crimson hair stood, on the other side of the oval by the car park, looking straight at her, her eyes burning. Marie quickly turned away, rubbed her own eyes and when she looked back, right to that same spot, the woman had simply vanished. She must have walked away or something, that was the logical explanation, but then that didn't explain why the woman was looking at her like that. All and all, it was just another piece in the jigsaw puzzle that did not seem to fit, and it worried her immensely.
The bell rang.
She didn't move.
But the prospect of seeing him again moved her.
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List of Options.
1. Go to/ring mansion. Explain problem. Pray that they believe me.
2.Do every exactly how I remember – after Sabretooth attacks Logan and I, Storm and Scott will arrive, and I'll eventually arrive at the mansion.
3. Do nothing. See where life leads. I can touch! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!
She sighed sullenly, and then frowned, as she reread what she had written as option number three. Then her eyes floated up to the option before it, her eyes misting slightly.
Absentmindedly she traced Logan's name on her sheet. God, she wondered how he was. Where he was. Instead she was stuck in French, reliving her education. She had come to the idea, many years ago, that she would never travel to France and therefore had no need to learn the language, which suited her fine. Unfortunately, though, her teacher had yet to reach the same conclusion.
"W'os Logan?" Someone leant over the sheet, trying to get a closer view, "Your boyfriend?"
She calmly pushed the list aside. Coming late into the class, did have its consequences. Remy LeBeau, that handsome stranger, was sitting at the only desk with a spare chair. At first, she idolized her position. Then she discovered his true colours, and they, to tell the truth,did not suit her. But then again his mere presence gave her more reason to learn the language; his accent did seem kind of nice.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" she avoided his question.
"She died," Remy looked up, a strange unreadable expression lining his face.
"Sorry," Marie gave him an apologetic look, slightly embarrassed herself.
He sighed, "Dat's okay."
"Are you French?" Marie asked suddenly.
"Non. Remy's Cajun, don' y'forget dat," he smiled wickedly.
"Is it part of crazy Cajun culture to speak in third person?" she responded sarcastically, her eyes scanning the vocabulary sheet.
He chuckled softly, "Chere, y'are funny."
"Yeah," she murmured softly, checking her work, "Whatever."
He didn't respond, and instead leant back, resting his feet on the table. He pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling them to a silent yet steady rhythm. For a few moments she watched enthralled. Then she turned back to matters in hand.
"Why do you do French then?" Marie questioned again, "Ah mean you do speak it."
"Dat's why Remy chose it, petite. He don' 'ave t'do anythin'."
"Oh." She turned back to her work.
"Are y'gay?" Remy asked abruptly.
"What?" She stared at him, the question catching her off guard.
"Well, since y'be askin' Remy all dese personal questions, he'd t'ought he'd ask one…" He held up his hands.
She cut him off by slamming her book shut. Her emerald eyes narrowed, shooting lethal venom, "You know what, Cajun? Ah think you're the one that's gay."
And that was all that spoken the entire lesson.
---
English was slightly better.
Remy sat in front of her, with Erica, flirting foolishly. Marie didn't care. And if she did, she certainly wasn't showing it. It started off as an average class, just like she remembered, and soon she was well involved with the work.
Then ten minutes into the lesson the door burst open, the sudden updraft upsetting a pile of papers.
"Sorry, Ah'm late," an apologetic voice, frighteningly familiar.
A purse of lips, "Next time detention, David. Sit down, please, and pull out the text we were discussing last lesson."
The name stung her. But she knew that she shouldn't be surprised. She had only met David because of the seating arrangement in the class. They had fast become friends, and it was not long before they had developed feelings for one another.
"Hey," he whispered softly.
"Hey yourself," she responded, moving her stuff so he could sit down.
The next fifteen minutes passed fast, and he said no more. Which was really odd, because once started, David could talk for hours.
"You okay?" she finally inquired, the silence too much for her.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Oh, because you weren't saying anything…" she shrugged, "But then you don't have tah talk tah me."
"Oh, but Ah want tah talk to you!"
She gave him a strange glance, "Okay then…Talk to me."
"Busy week planned?" he took a deep breath.
"Why?" She didn't like where this was heading, but had more logic than to let it show.
"You know, because Ah was thinking…" David trailed off.
"You were thinking?" she kidded gently.
He raised his hands in mock defeat, "That's all Ah can say for some people."
She lightly kicked him, "So what were you saying?"
"Well, you know, maybe we could see a movie or somthin', on Friday. Catch a bite," he trailed off.
She stared at him. For that whole lesson her mind had been free of depressing thoughts. Now? Besides, she couldn't remember when, in her time, David had asked her out, but come to think of it… Anyway, what about Bobby? Three years of relationship was simply something that could not be tossed away, but she had barely thought about him since her arrival. Perhaps they were really over. Pity she wouldn't be able tell him that for another three years.
"If you don't want tah, Ah understand…" David interrupted as he shrugged, a red tinge on his cheeks, "Ah just thought…"
"No!" Marie exclaimed, suddenly horrified, "Ah would like to go with you, except Ah have a lot of things going on…"
"We can reschedule."
"No… Ah -Ah don't want tah hurt you."
"How could you?"
"Not now, but later…" She shook her head, "Don't worry."
"Then? Marie, come on. Ah promise Ah'm not that horrible!"
"You're not!"
"So?" he pleaded, "Marie..."
She sighed, "That would be great, David."
Her weakness was her yearning to please. And one day it would be the downfall of her.
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"What the hell is that?" Aimee gave Katie a startled glance, amid the bustle that could be described as art class. Marie peered over, interested.
"A cat," Katie answered.
"A cat?"
"Yeah… Why? What does it look like?"
Aimee opened her mouth, and then caught the look on Marie's face, "A cat."
"So why did you ask me?"
"I just wanted to make sure you knew it was a cat," Aimee replied smartly.
"Okay then…" Katie said slowly, "Well Ah know it's cat, Aimee. Ah drew it, after all. "
"Good! Let's talk about something else then," Aimee smiled cunningly, and a horrible feeling entered Marie's stomach, "Ah, let's see, well I don't know… how about, how David asked Marie out?" She stressed the last sentence, pausing after every single damn word.
Marie glared at her.
Katie simply stood, stunned like a rabbit caught in headlights, before beginning to screech, "OH MAH GAWD! Marie! Why didn't y'tell me?"
A few heads turned, Marie felt her face burning and lowered her head. When Katie felt like it, she could create a scene. So, as Marie was staring downwards at the table, and spied the open bottle of red paint, it really wasn't her fault that she came up with the idea.
"Ah'm sorry, Kati- oh shit."
Her hand had 'accidentally' pushed the red paint over. A trail of thick scarlet liquid trailed across the table, down her shirt and onto a stool. She gasped in feigned horror, and tried fast to wipe it away
Aimee snorted, "Ever thought of taking drama?"
Katie gave her another strange look, before turning back to Marie, "Quick! Wash it off, before it dries. After that, it doesn't come out! You know Ah had this great top, remember…?"
But Marie had already hurried off, towards the sinks in the far corner. She turned the taps on full blast, and grabbed the lavender soap, rubbing it roughly against the cotton material. She succeeded in removing most of it, but a faint pink smudge remained that stubbornly refused to disappear.
Someone was washing brushes next to her, and she jumped, as they closed the tap unexpectedly. Looking up, she could see her reflection through ebony frames. She knew who he was. But what he wanted was the real question.
"Bonjour," Remy smiled. He had quite a nice smile, she decided, but to see whether it was genuine she needed to look into his eyes.
"Bonjour," she responded cordially, their last conversation fast becoming history.
He raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise, "Y'ac'ually understood me?"
"You actually spoke in first person?" she retaliated strongly. Something about his smug attitude irritated her.
He smiled softly and changed the subject, sensing he had struck a nerve, "Y'good at art?"
"Kind of," she shrugged, "But Aimee was taking it and then Katie…" Then she paused, "Not that you know who they are…" She smiled uncomfortably.
"Remy knows more dan y'think, petite," he nodded his head, "Much more."
"It's Rogue," she corrected.
"Excuse moi?"
She mentally slapped herself as her mistake dawned upon her, "Ah mean, it's Marie." She flushed.
Remy shrugged, a slightly puzzled expression playing on his face, "W'at's wrong wit' Rogue?"
"It's not mah name," she reminded him gently. Then it was her turn to change subject, but this time it was more to avoid confusion, "So why are you talking tah me?"
"Remy had no choice."
"Sorry? What, why?" It was her turn to be confused, and a little freaked out to tell the truth.
"I don't know," he suddenly broke character and looked steadily at her, "It's like somet'in inside me, draws me t'y…" Then he stopped, flushed, "Remy probably confusing chere."
"Yeah," she frowned, "You sure are."
On an impulse she looked at his sunglasses, and asked the million-dollar question that had been burning inside her, "What's – what's with your eyes?"
"Remy!" A cheerleader waved her hand from a nearby table. A welcome distraction. "Come here!"
"Au reviour, Rogue," He turned.
"Marie," she said firmly.
He said no more, and walked off, only pausing to push aside a strand of hair.
She frowned, flicked the remaining water off her shirt, and walked back towards the table, before settling herself on a stool, distracted, as she tried to make some sense of the conversation.
Aimee unexpectedly started giggling, turning her head, as she covered her mouth. Marie had enough sense to ignore her.
"Marie?" whispered Katie, unable to remain quiet.
"Yes?" Marie said cautiously, not liking the tone in Katie's voice.
"You're sitting on red paint," Aimee laughed, "God, could this day get any better?"
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