OH MY GOD! 23 reviews…..2..3 faints)
(WAKES UP) I only expected to get four…..TT YOU GUYS ROCK!
I thank everyone who bothered to review ivory soul.
Bows I bow to the greatness of your kind hearts. I dedicate this story to you oh kind reader.
Please feel free to critic my work. But a little positive reinforcement wont hurt either. wink
Dance for me
Remy LeBeau was a possessive man.
It was not a question, nor an explanation. It was a simple fact.
The core of it probably traced far back into his past, before the existence of the thief prince, before the charming Cajun before even the cheating gambler there was a little boy, a boy who saw the world in shades of red on black.
He saw the darker side of the globe, where the shadows slithered like living beings, he felt every shade of hate and distrust burning like red hot steel on his empathy, seen every act of violence and passion directed to others as well as himself, heard every whisper of lies and accusations drip like poison into his ears.
Crouched in the corner of a seedy alleyway, he wept tears of betrayal as words like jagged shards of glass cut into him, denying him his very humanity. At that moment the boy-child broke. But from the scattered pieces of the child, rose a black warrior. A man unmoved by the darkness around him, charming as no other could be, his heart protected by an impenetrable wall of sweet words and empty promises. Few things in the world were dear to him, and what he cared for he protected. The fewer things you care about, the less likely you might get hurt when it leaves you.
And in this transformation he made his own law, a law he branded onto himself, with every conquest, every theft, every success it burned slightly deeper, scaring him.
To own is to defend; to want is to protect; to love is to be hurt.
Remy still held on to those truths even now. Though his current location was definitely not an alleyway back in his hometown of New Orleans and he was no longer a boy of no more then 8.
The Xavier mansion was truly a sight to behold. Decked out in black, reds and oranges it was the true vision of the spirit of Halloween. Everyone (invited or not) had automatically congregated in the music room, now converted into a ballroom of sorts. It had taken weeks to prepare but 'The Halloween bash of the year' as Kitty had put it was in full swing.
From his perch by the punch bowl Remy studied the colorful mass of bodies dominating the dance floor. With his trademark grin Remy mentally ticked off the names of the people he had met earlier that evening.
At the edge of the dancing throng, the distinctive orange hair of a certain pyromaniac was like a flare. St. John was clearly having a good time, and this was truly a rarity as there wasn't any fire involved.
With an arm wrapped firmly around a slightly uncomfortable Wanda, they both looked adorable in their matching vampire costumes, black cape and all. Remy had never known John to be inclined to wear black but he chocked it up to the influences of the Australians' gothic girlfriend.
Right in front of the fanged pair stood Kitty; in pigtails she made an exceptionally believable Dorothy from the wizard of Oz. She gestured wildly to a blank faced Wanda as she tried to clarify a point in their conversation.
Beside Kitty, clad in overalls and a straw hat, loomed the intimidating form of Potier. Obviously a scarecrow of some sort, the Russians usually stoic face broke into a smile at the exuberance of his girlfriend and date.
Lifting his gaze from the comical couples, Remy let his eyes roam over the dancing crowd. The blue form of Kurt caught his eye.
Dressed in a dark green suit, Kurt looked the part of a Christmas elf but what really stunned the Cajun was the fact that there was a young woman embraced closely in his arms. Dressed in what could be called as the shorter and undoubtedly sexier version of the Santa suit gambit could only smile at Amanda's show of support for her blue elf-like boyfriend. Dancing slowly in each other's warm embrace they looked like a Christmas story come to life. Seeing the deep love reflected in both their eyes as they stared at each other brought a wave of longing over Remy.
He wanted to hold Rogue just as Kurt held Amanda. He longed to pull her close till her heady jasmine scent made him lightheaded. He craved to run his fingers trough her beautiful white streaked locks letting the silk of her hair lace them. Something deep inside him demanded that he cage her within his arms and kiss her with all the passion that burned within his being. He wanted to taste her fire, to possess her burning spirit, to hold it close and guard it from the eyes of any other. And worst of all he was utterly terrified that she would push him away.
He wanted to possess her but the irony of the fact was that she already possessed him. She just didn't know it.
Fear or not, he made an oath that tonight that was going to change.
Sparing the dancing lovers one longing glance, he continued his study of the nights partygoers. Skipping over the heart of the dance floor, Remy searched the other end of the elongated room for a glimpse of the lineup there.
The blue form of beast was clear against the blond wood paneling on the walls, and in his usual flare he decided to poke fun at his own occupation. In a starched white lab coat topped off with a syringe the size of an arm he made a mean (and terrifying) mad scientist. Seated before Hank, deep in what Remy assumed was a philosophical debate was the infamous professor Xavier. In his usual chrome wheel chair, but there was something oddly different about the bald man. Squinting slightly Remy tried to get a good look at the strange outfit that was currently Xavier's costume of choice. When the realization hit him, Remy could only grin and vainly try to hold back the chuckle.
Coming as captain John-Luc Packard from Star Trek was truly genius.
As if sensing his thoughts (which he very well may have been doing) Xavier looked up and straight at the Cajun. Stunned for a moment in the piercing gaze of the world's greatest telepath, Remy quickly recovered and gave a polite smile and a slight nod. Responding in kind, the professor smiled and returned to his conversation/debate with the good doctor.
Shuddering slightly Remy remembered the very first time he found himself under the unnerving stare of the professor no more then one year ago.
Thinking back, it was probably that very stare that got Remy into trouble in the first place. Right after the entire Apocalypse fiasco, Professor Xavier made it a point to gather as many mutants under his guard as possible. Remy or Gambit as he was then known, was of course high up in the list of mutants to collect. Unfortunately not for the reasons Remy had hoped for.
Xavier wanted to use Remy as a starting point for Rogue to learn how to touch. After much poking and prodding, it was decided that Remy's empathy protected his mind from being absorbed completely making him the safest starting point. Remy was not too happy with the arrangement, the only plus point was that Rogue felt worse (if that was possible). But for the greater good, they stuck to it.
Their first session had been one of the strangest things Remy had ever been through, and Remy had been through some strange things. The session was to be held in the medical bay for obvious reasons, under the watchful eye of Hank, Wolverine, and Xavier.
After being strapped into all kinds of sensors, a shirtless Remy met face to face with twitching Rogue who was for once gloveless. Unable to stop himself Remy just had to needle her.
"Now chere' go easy on poor Remy dis' be his first time"
The blush that colored he face was nothing compared to the green fire flashing in her eyes.
"like ah'll believe that, unless ah'm mistaken ah've knocked yah' out before, and ah' am more than' prepared ta do it again." Her words punctuated by the ominous cracking of her knuckles.
"And here Remy thought he be de only one who remembered our kiss."
Her blush increased tenfold giving her pale skin the color of a ripe tomato. And if Remy was truly paying attention to his surrounding rather then Rogue's mesmerizing green eyes he would have heard the tell tale sound of claws unsheathing.
"Cut it out Gumbo, or you'll have an up close and personal meeting with three good friends of mine." The low drawl of Logan's voice whipped though any retort that Rouge might have given.
After that everything pretty much went as planed, Rogue touched his arm, he passed out. After that first three-hour black out and the following headache the daily sessions got marginally better. After about a month, three hours became no more then thirty minuets, and the headache no longer bothered him.
But there was one thing that the professor didn't count on, Remy's empathy, instead of simply pushing Rogue out of his mind had decided to feed her some of his… more unpleasant memories instead.
So by the time he came around from his fourth a thirty-minuet blackout that week, he was met with a pair of worried emeralds. Shifting slightly into a seated position, he found himself gratefully tucked into his trench coat, fully dressed.
Still slightly disorientated and with a pounding headache to match, Remy was more then surprised when Rouge pelted herself into his arms and pulled him into a hug. Too stunned to move, Remy briefly wandered if he had hit his head anywhere on his way to sandman-land.
Don't get him wrong, they were good friends and excellent sparing partners both verbal and physical, but for Rogue to go from ice cold to touchy feely in the span of a heartbeat was a sure sign of the apocalypse.
At least until he heard her whispered words.
At first they were soft words, no more then slight brushes of air though her parted lips, but being the thief he was he was more then capable of decoding them.
"Yah' worth more then yah' powers."
Over and over again she whispered those words.
His first impulse was to deny it, to pretend that the memories meant nothing that the words that were shot at him those years ago left no mark, he wanted to hide behind his teasing mask and push aside any pity from the fiery southerner. He could handle her rage, but not her pity.
Weakly pulling her away with every intention of denying her words their truth, but instead he stared deeply into the tortured green pools of her eyes. Perhaps deep within him there was still a small spark of hope. He didn't need his empathy to decipher what he saw within the green sea. Sorrow, loneliness, regret, hope, weakness respect, horror and at the core of it all a kind of kinship, all these emotions swam up from the very depth of her soul raw and untamed.
No pity.
It might have been the headache, but all at once he was pulled back into his past, he reverted back to the scared young child he still tried to hide inside.
Of everyone here in the institute, she was the only one who had any hope of ever understanding him. After all each was a reflection of the other.
They both knew how it felt to be used abused and thrown away like so much rubbish. They both had the identical scar across their hearts; trust was virtually an impossible ideal for people like them.
That's what made this moment all the more precious. Rogue was a proud woman by nature, for her to open up like this was like a blind leap of fate. She was putting her trust in him.
Trust from such a strong creature was a humbling feeling.
Looking back, it was that moment that dammed him beyond all redemption. Instead of pulling away, instead of running for the hills and leaving every temptation of comfort behind, he pushed aside his urge to bolt as something akin to hope emerged.
For a moment the world was still.
Silent as death, it felt like all that was left in it were two broken dolls and a half made promise. It curled smoky tendrils around them, encasing a part of them to each other, hovering in the air like a tangible thing, slithering with whispered of forever's, choking in its intensity.
As sudden as it came, the spell between them was broken.
Rogue pulled away as fast as she could and all but ran out of the room, pausing only long enough to threaten his life should he ever disclose what had happened to anyone. The confusion that shone in her eyes nearly hurt him. But he understood her probably better then even she understood herself.
He took things as they came; it was not in her nature to do so. She would fight against their unspoken connection, denying it at every turn; he would have to make sure she failed. They both shared something special, he would be dammed if he let it die without a fight!
Little has changed since that fateful day, but the changes, insignificant by passing observation were important in their own right.
Sighing, Remy took a sip of the glass he had nearly forgotten he clutched. Smiling at the familiar taste, something told him that Bobby or better known as iceman was going to face hell from Wolverine for spiking the punch.
Not that Remy was complaining
Speaking of the wolf-man, from the corner of his eye Remy caught sight of the terrifying form of Logan making a beeline straight for the punch bowl. It could have been his imagination but something told Remy that the gruff man was not coming for a drink.
Suppressing the inbuilt urge to bolt, Remy forced his body into a well-practiced relaxed pose. In his mind Remy prayed to any god listening that he made it through the night in one piece.
Wolverine got pretty violent when it came to his adoptive daughters.
And Rogue definitely counted as his daughter.
In Remy's mind he doubted that the clawed man would give his blessing to the 'reformed' flirt as easily as he had given it to Potiere when he wanted to date Kitty.
Then again, no one said that life was fair.
Once again running his eyes though the crowd on the dance floor, Remy searched for his current obsession, Rogue.
As he suspected, the true cause for celebration that evening was currently dominating the heart of the dance floor. Enjoying the newfound control over her powers, Rogue had been dancing for more or less two hours straight.
Her face striped of its usual Goth makeup, boasted a healthy flush framed by the loose locks of her white streaked auburn hair. With what looked like a butchered 18th century shirt, ruffled with slashed long-sleeves that ended slightly above her navel and a pair of fitting pants topped off with a pair of knee length boots, Rogue made an impressive Pirate Queen.
It could have been her eye-patch or the decorative sword attached to her hip but rouge had a very debonair atmosphere about her.
A distinctive sniffing sound followed by a growl shook Remy from his very enjoyable visual inventory of Rogue.
"Why is it, whenever I tell that ice-pick not to do something stupid, he goes and does it anyway?"
"Remy dun' know mon ame' but Remy tink' dat' de' boy likes to tease y' non?" Remy gave wolverine a knowing look.
"Shut it Gumbo, what I want to know is where the hell did the boy get two whole bottles of vodka?"
"Remy's not sure, but if he was to make a bet, he'd say y' stash in de garage, it is quite an impressive collection of alcohol."
Muttering what sounded like several choice words under his breath, wolverine seemed more upset about losing two bottles of vodka rather then the alcohol swimming in the punch bowl.
Whatever gave Bobby a longer life couldn't be a bad thing.
"So what about ya' gumbo? Anything I should be prepared for?"
"Non, nothing important." Came the tense reply.
"Ya know, for a thief ya sure suck at lying." Wolverine paused a moment before continuing, " Its her isn't it, Rogue."
The thick silence that passed between the two men could only be described as highly charged.
"Remy mean her no harm, she is just….," with a sigh Remy left his sentence hanging.
"I know Gumbo, I probably knew this was going to happen even before you did, life tends to bite like that. But don't think I'm letting you off too easy, I've got one rule for you to remember."
"You break her heart, I'll break your head"
The slight curve of the gruff man's lip softened his words, but the cold glint in his eyes told Remy he was serious.
"If it came to dat, Remy'll do it himself."
"That's nice to know, by the way Gumbo who the hell are you suppose to be, Robin Hood?" Wolverine punctuated his words with a vague gesture towards Remy.
Pulling on a stunned face Remy preceded to throw out his arms and gave an over dramatized bow.
"De' prince of thieves at y' service"
Unmoved, wolverine's only reply was "What happened to green spandex?"
"Well mon ame' spandex is out of fashion and Remy dun' look good in green plus the cape is simply to die for." Punctuating his words with a slight tug on his loose-fitting pants and a swish of his black cape.
"Yeah, and am I to believe that 'the prince of thieves' made no reference to the 'sea queen'?"
"Dat' ame' is for me to know and y' to find out."
"I don't have to, at least its better then prince charming and Cinderella."
"Jean and Scott?" Remy had little doubt that the redhead planed the costumes and Scott being the guy he was, just gave it.
"You have no idea. It should be illegal to have so much glitter."
Bursting out in laughter, Remy could just imagine just how much glitter it took to insult Wolverines' sensibilities.
"You should go to her"
Remy's laughter faded abruptly as wolverine spoke.
" Take it from me, there are some things in life that happen only once and when they do, grab the chance with both hands and never let it go."
"Y'…..speak from experience?" Remy felt slightly off balance at the man's sudden switch.
"Yeah Gumbo," wolverine turned, and as he moved away he let the end of the sentence flutter behind him, "she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw".
Feeling oddly cheated, Remy glared at the retreating form of Wolverine for a full thirty seconds before going into action.
If he was ever going to tell her, now was as good as a time as ever.
Steeling himself, Remy LeBeau took the first step towards what could be the worst decision of his young life.
(End of part one)
throws Remy plushies to readers I thank you all for reading and reviewing my story.
Hearts to you all.