Hey glad you're liking it so far! Thanks for the reviews! Kurt will be in here, but he'll be a year or two older than Rogue, so their not twins (I think they are in the show, right?). I'm not sure who the father is . . . maybe that'll come up later. I always forget, did Evo every say who their father was? Tell me if you know.
Disclaimer: I realized I forgot to put this in the last chapter. Although I doubt any of you thought it belonged to me, I'll say it now. X-men and anything recognizable don't belong to me.
Warning: PG-13 because of content. Mentions of drugs and abuse.
-Chapter Two-
-Hello Again-
Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 1991-
The young girl sighed as she sat down on the front steps. The gentle breeze played with pigtails, swirling the long auburn locks. She clutched her bear tighter as she once again wondered why they had to move and why she hadn't made any friends yet. So what if she didn't wear a dress to school like all the other girls? Her overalls had been clean!
Not like that boy that sits next ta me! She thought. His clothes were filthy. How could his mama let him come ta school like that?
A woman's voice floated out of the apartment. "Marie? Are you here, child?"
The girl turned around. "Out here, Auntie Irene!"
The woman came up to the door, opening it slightly. "What are you doing out here, Marie? You said you were going to go play."
Marie clutched her bear tighter. "The girls said I couldn't play with them. They all laughed at me and walked away." She cast an angry glare across the street where her classmates were pushing their doll strollers around the playground. "I didn't wanna play dolls with 'em, anyway. Dolls are stupid." A slight waver in her voice indicated otherwise.
Irene sat down beside her and wrapped the girl in a loving embrace. "Don't worry, Marie. One day you'll have the best friends in the world. You just haven't met them yet."
"But when will I meet 'em?" She whined in true child-like form.
Irene laughed. "Patience, my Marie. Patience."
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Remy huddled in the corner of his room, his ratty teddy bear close to his chest. His mother had a sent upstairs when a man starting knocking on the door. She always did. 'Mommy has a guest,' she'd say. 'Stay in ya room no matter what ya hear.' He had learned long ago not to question her, it only caused trouble. He also learned not to tell his father about the 'guests.' Remy was scared to death of him, so he didn't talk around his dad. He didn't talk around anyone.
Dat's why de don' like me at school, thought Remy. The children teased him because his didn't talk. The teachers thought he was stupid because he didn't talk. His parents got angry when he didn't talk.
"HE DID WHAT?" Remy jumped as the dulcet tones from downstairs became harsh and loud. Knowing he would pay for it later, Remy crept to the top of the stairs to see what was happening.
Annie DeClour, his mother, was standing in the entry way. Her young girlish looks had faded away; she looked as she had aged ten years. She was glaring angrily at the man in front of her. Remy recognized as Paul, his father's friend.
Or it could be Sam, or maybe Mike, or Andrew. It was hard to tell; all his parents' friends looked the same. They all had the same stench of alcohol and smoke permeating off of them. And they almost always left with a little baggie, ones that his mother made in their oven every week.
Remy didn't know what the stuff was, but he knew that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone. He had learned that one the hard way, too.
-flashback, about one year ago-
It was a beautiful day out. The five-year-old pressed his face against the window. "Can't we go t' de park, mere?"
"Shut de fuckin' curtain!" Was her only reply. She had taken her 'special adult snack', as she had called it, out of the oven and was measuring it into equal bags.
Remy sighed and sat down beside his toy cars. He knew she wasn't going to say yes; he asked out of habit. He had just started to race his two favorites, the red-and-black car and the green one, when there was a knock on the door. "Merde!" Hissed Annie. "Remy, get the door!" She commanded as she began to hide her handiwork.
The small boy trotted over to the door. Cracking to door open slightly, he saw it was the next door neighbor. Mrs. Mason smiled at the small boy. "Hello, Remy. We're movin' away t'morrow an' we're havin' a neighborhood party. D'ya know if ya an' ya family can come over?"
Remy stared. A party meant people. People meant kids. Kids meant he could play with someone his age! Then he remembered his mother in the kitchen. "Sorry, but we can' leave 'til mommy's done cookin', or else she'll get in trouble."
"Trouble?"
"Yeah, if de treats aren' ready when daddy's friends get here, mommy won' git de money an'-" A firm hand slapped over his mouth. Remy looked up to his mother. She gave him an deadly glare before pasting on a smile and looking at Mrs. Mason's confused face.
"Children. Have de wildest imaginations, don' dey?" Annie slowly pulled Remy back into the house. "Sorry, Gloria, but we're busy. Makin' food for Luke's birthday t'morrow night. Best o' luck wit' ya new home, t'ough." She lied through her teeth, her smile never once wavering.
As soon as the neighbor was a safe distance from the house, all hell broke lose. "What did I tell ya 'bout talkin' t' de neighbors?"
The slap echoed across the room and Remy tried not to cry. "'M sorry, mere!"
"Sorry 's not good 'nough!" Remy cringed as the woman grabbed his arms and began to shake. He knew not to cry, that made it worse.
Twenty minutes later, Remy lay on his bed and hugged his teddy bear. The bruises were already forming on his arms. He knew that tomorrow his mom would make him wear long sleeves yet again. The teacher would question, he would remain silent, and the kids would laugh. Just another regular day.
-end flashback-
Remy was brought back to reality when Paul-Sam-Mike-Andrew began to talk. ". . . just needs money!"
"How did he git in jail in de first place?"
"I told ya, de message on m' phone said, 'Mike, 's Luke. 'M in jail. Go t' Annie an' get de bail money.'"
Ah. So it was Mike.
Annie went to her purse, digging through it and mumbling to herself. "Bastard's lucky I got 'nough money. . . ."
Shoving a wad of bills in her pocket, she strode over to Mike. "Okay, let's git dis over wit'."
"Y'comin' wit'?"
"Ya t'ink I'd trust ya wit' five hundred dollars?"
"What 'bout de kid?"
Annie sighed. "Remy? Git down here!"
He hurried down the stairs as fast as his little legs could take him. "Yes, mere?"
She grabbed his hand. "C'mon. Y'goin' t' de neighbor's f'r awhile."
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Dinner at the Darkholme residence was peaceful, until there was an urgent knock on the door. Raven excused herself from the table to answer it. Marie followed closely behind her mother.
She gazed at the strange visitors as her mother open the door. The woman looked as if she had pretty at one point in time. Her auburn hair was stringy and looked as if it hadn't been washed in awhile. Her jeans were torn and frayed and the tank top she was wearing left little to the imagination.
The little boy cowering next to her was the same. He looked as if he hadn't received a proper bath in months and his clothes were wrinkled, as if he had been wearing them for several days.
Both looked extremely skinny, as if they were underfed.
Recognition hit Marie's young mind. Dirty boy from school!
"Hello." Said the woman. "I know ya jus' moved in an' all, but we're y' next door neighbors. 'M Annie DeClour an' dis is m' little boy, Remy. I know dis may seem a little awkward, but could ya possibly watch him f'r a few hours? I have an' important errand t' run an' I really don' wanna drag him along." She flashed a charming smile.
Raven looked from the woman to the little boy. Even through his unusual eyes, she could see his fear. She smiled at him warmly. "Sure."
Remy and Rogue meet again! Poor Remy. I feel awful about always giving him a horrible past. Oh, well! I'm over it now. Things are just going to keep getting more interesting as the story goes on!
'Til later, Takimiromy