"So mah clothes?" She arched one perfect brow.
"Well, what wit de explosion and all, dey were a little smoky and singed. And with de glass shatterin' an' all, dey was a little torn up and filled wit glass bits. And wit de rain an' all, dey were all soggy an' cold…I figured it easier to jus' start over. " B'sides, Ah like what you wearin' now."
She pulled the sheet tighter around her body and glared at him.
"Some girls might be sayin' t'anks right about now."
"Ah'm not some girls."
"Non, chere, dat you are not." His eyes, red flickering in black, stayed on hers.
"But thanks," she said grudgingly. She studied him. Tall and lean and hard, a shock of reddish-brown hair falling into those eyes. Planes and angles, she thought again – there was nothing soft to the man.
"De rien."
They were silent for a moment. "Ah should go."
"Where to, chere?"
"Ho—the Institute." She had been about to say, "Home," but the words caught in her throat.
"Xavier's? I'm t'inkin' dat not a great idea."
"Why not?"
"How you feelin', chere?"
"Ah feel fine."
"Really? Stand up."
"So you can ogle me again? Ah don't think so."
"Chere, I had plenty of opportunity to ogle when we came in. B'sides, I don't ogle. I appreciate." He grinned. "I appreciate very much."
"You may think you're charmin' me, Gambit. You ain't."
"That's cause Ah ain't tried yet. And you ain't standin."
"Fine." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood for a moment.
"Now let go o'de bed."
She did, and promptly swayed as black started to suffuse her vision. With a smooth, fluid movement, Gambit caught her and deposited her back in the bed.
"Like I was sayin'. Whatever dey put in your drink, dey gave enough to knock out that friend of yours with the shiny knives in his hands."
"Logan."
"Wolfie."
"His name is Logan." But the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Anyway, you sure not in any shape to leave. B'sides – you ain' interested in findin' out what dose men want wich'ya?"
"Ah am."
"Well, don't t'ink you gonna find out hangin' around Bayville – de bad guys don' seem suburban. Didn' seem like you really wanted to be at Xavier's anyway."
She didn't respond for a minute, just stared out the window. Then, changing the subject, "What were you doin at the club, anyway?"
He smiled. "I felt social."
"Try again. Magneto send you to watch me?"
"I haven't seen Magneto since the fight with ol'Apocalypse. Don' even know if he survived. I'm a free agent now."
"So why you followin' me?" Now her eyes pinned him. Even exhausted, they were sharp and cool, like jade knives.
He shifted, uncomfortable. "Been watchin' you for a while. Seemed like you needed a friend."
"Friends don't spy on each other." She folded her arms over her chest.
"But dey do get each other outta tricky situations."
"They also tell each other the truth. Truth's important t'me. So tell me, or Ah'll crawl outta here."
He stood, idly flipped a card between his fingers. Charge it, bring it down, charge it, bring it down. "You ain't gonna like it."
"Ah usually don't. Tell me anyway."
"I felt sorry for you."
She shot up, furious. "Sorry for me! Why?"
" 'Cause I seen you hurtin'. Remy just want to make it better." He shrugged, began to pace.
Remy, she mused. His real name. "Why?"
"Dieu, chere, you like a two-year-old! I jus' do."
"Why?" At his silence, she threw back the sheet. "Ah'm getting up," she warned.
" 'Cause you and I are an awful lot alike. You've taken plenty o'hits dese last few months. An t'find a family an' feel like you still don' belong, t'be betrayed, an' have everything you believe crash down like a damn house o'cards. I understand that." He stopped his pacing at the window, held her eyes. "You blamin' yourself for the end of the world, p'tite, and you don't need to."
He watched in horror as Rogue's eyes filled, shimmered with tears. In two strides he was next to her. "Don' cry, chere. Don' cry. You can get all mad an' spit and all o'dat. Just don' cry." He caught the tear on his gloved thumb before it fell. He stretched out along the bed next to her and she leaned her head on his chest. Even through the duster, he could feel how tense her entire body was, as if from sheer force of will she kept from flying into a million pieces.
"Chere?" She was silent, pressing her face into the soft black cloth of his shirt, not even breathing. "Rogue?"
"Yeah." Her voice was so small, so tight, he thought it might break him in two.
He wrapped his arms around her. "Go ahead an' cry."
She wept until, spent, she fell asleep again.
A/N:
To those kind reviewers who have been asking about Rogue's clothes…what, you never woke up someplace strange wearing only your underwear? Oh. Well. Nevermind, then. Rest assured, Remy only looked – he does have a code of honor – he just doesn't advertise it.
Panther Nesmith: Thanks for the Jello mold, but I'll pass. On the other hand, can I interest you in a lovely bundt cake pan?