Epilogue.
Rogue slowly opened her eyes, blinking. The rough, unyielding floor beneath her dug into her hip bone, but she found herself not entirely uncomfortable. She was wrapped in a long trench coat, nestled snugly against a hard but warm body, a long arm slung around her shoulders, and surrounded by a familiar smell. She would know this smell from anywhere – a dark bouquet of cigarette smoke, leather and spicy accents of cologne or aftershave. She slowly tilted her chin up, and her breath caught in her throat because his face was close enough that she could discern his sharp chiseled jaw and the length of his dark eyelashes. His deep-set eyes were closed, and even when sleeping he looked a bit pensive, his dark, angled brows slightly furrowed.
She had no idea why she was here, waking up next to him, when the last thing she remembered was flying off to check on a Sentinel sighting. But for a few seconds, she chose not to dwell on it. She kept still and just admired him quietly. He was so much more handsome and less annoying when he was unconscious. She tried to ignore the fact that his very nearness was making her heart flutter.
"Enjoying de view?" His eyes didn't even open.
She inwardly groaned. Making an abrupt show of coming to her senses, she sprang up to sitting. It was only then she noticed they were lying on some random rooftop.
"What the hell are we doin' here?" she asked.
Gambit's eyes finally opened, appearing relaxed and unfazed by the situation.
"Y'guess be as good as mine," he drawled. "I thought maybe you brought me here."
"Why would Ah do that?" she scoffed defensively.
He smiled lazily. "You tell me. But it sure was nice waking up t'each other, non? So maybe some thanks are in order."
"Yeah, well, Ah did not bring ya here." She got up to standing, removing his trench coat and tossing it down at him. She looked down at her clothes, still in her shorts and shirt, busying herself with yanking her gloves higher around her wrists. "Did ya get the call about the Sentinel?"
Gambit narrowed his eyes, not bothering to get up off the floor, appreciatively looking up the long length of her shapely legs. "Oui, I took care of de Sentinel."
"How?" she asked. "Ah was closer."
He thought about it, but he was having a hard time remembering what happened after the fight. "I don't know. You weren't there for de fight?"
She shook her head.
"I thought de Sentinel targeted you, non?"
"No," she replied, and suddenly she remembered. "Ah fell out of the sky while flyin'… Ah got dizzy all of a sudden. Maybe Ah hit my head. Maybe that's why Ah don't remember... "
"...slipping me a Roofie, and bringing me here?"
"No, ya jackass. Ah wasn't the one who brought us here!" She reeled around in a huff. "Ah don't even know why Ah bother talkin' to ya."
"Probably 'cause ya secretly want t'rendezvous wit' me…"
Deliberately ignoring him, she looked around to figure out where she was.
"… roll around in abandon on some dirty rooftop an' den just toss me aside…"
She checked the intersection the building was closest to and figured they were in lower Manhattan.
"… you don't have de decency t'even buy me dinner first…"
She felt around her body and realized she didn't have her comm device on her.
"… jus' sees de hair and de body and de sinfully good looks…"
She walked back to him and knelt by his side. Picking up his trench coat, she felt around the pockets.
"… you only see me as a piece of meat…"
"Jesus Christ. Are you still talkin'?" she hissed. "Where's your comm device?"
He gave her a smirk. "On my person."
She stuck her hand out. "Give it ta me."
He clasped his hands below his head and smiled at her slyly. "Come an' get it."
She rolled her eyes and then quickly frisked him waist up, jostling him side to side.
"Ow ow… oww… gently…"
She got through both his legs and couldn't find his comm.
"Where did ya put it?"
"Dere's one place you didn't check."
She recoiled, pulling her hands. "Oh, nuh-uh."
"My hand," he smirked showing his comm in his hand. He pointed his finger down, remarking, "Dats… all Remy." He gave her a wink.
Growling low in annoyed frustration, she lunged at his hand. Still lying down on the ground, he quickly dodged her predictable movement. And using her momentum, he swung his body in one slight pivot and had her on the floor, lying below him. He palmed the back of her head before it could hit the pavement.
"Roguey," he crooned. "Ya got so much power, but not enough finesse. Maybe ya could use some lessons from yours truly."
The leg she didn't have pinned down by his body pulled up to gain purchase on the ground, a stretch of milky white catching the corner of his eye. His hand was on it without a second thought. Using only the covered part of his gloves, he stroked the softness of her exposed leg from knee to hip.
Abruptly, his hand stilled halfway, momentarily struck with a sudden certainty – he knew exactly how satiny soft her skin would feel. A pre-recorded sound in some remote corner of his brain seemed to play as he looked down at her – a sigh, a moan, a gasp in pleasure. And then a flash of lips ajar, smiling green eyes, silky intimate laughter…
Remy blinked, and it was gone like a wisp, and he was just staring down at Rogue, who was looking flustered and pissed.
Rogue, becoming less and less certain on how she wanted to act in front of him these days, was frozen like a statue, clamming up and not trusting herself to move when he was this close.
"Get off me, Gambit," she warned in a low voice. All the while, her heart was doing cartwheels.
"Ever get a sense of déjà vu?" he asked her waywardly. And yet, as he said it, he wasn't even sure if déjà vu was the right word.
His voice sounded strange enough that she looked up to catch his eye, and didn't quite know how to react to the lack of humor there.
Coming to her senses, she shoved him back, grabbed the comm device from his hand and gave him a glare for good measure. She got up off the ground and fumbled with his comm, trying to get her nerves back under control. She hated how easily he got under her skin.
She turned on the comm device. "Cyclops, you read?"
"Rogue? What are you doing with Gambit's comm?"
"Ah think Ah lost mine. How did the Sentinel thing go?"
"Didn't you take care of it? I sent Gambit for back-up when you didn't answer yours."
She looked over to him and found him finally standing, pulling his trench coat back on.
"Yeah, Gambit said he got 'em."
"Okay, the others look like they're under control, too. Both of you come back home and report."
"Roger."
She looked up from the comm device over at him. He stood at the edge of the building, looking down and lighting up a cigarette.
She quietly joined his side, not really sure why she was suddenly feeling cautious approaching him. She cleared her throat, standing a few feet away from him.
"Cyclops wants us back for a debrief."
He didn't respond right away, only exhaled a stream of smoke in that brooding way he sometimes did that was even more annoying than when he was being outright annoying.
"Why am I here wit' you…?" he asked almost as if he was asking no one in particular. "On de top of dis particular building?"
She wasn't sure if this was supposed to be a rhetorical question or not, but given how she was the only one here with him, she decided to answer him, "Maybe… maybe Ah did bring us here… for safety? Ah dunno, Ah could've hit my head pretty hard…"
"You live here," he punctuates the air lightly with his cigarette.
She made a face. "What?"
His expression was stony and his voice was a quiet, uncertain murmur. "You live here… wit' someone who makes y' smile every day… makes y'feel anchored… an' makes y' so happy dat y' only want t'come here… return here."
It almost sounded like he was talking about himself, reminding himself. He looked at the far horizon like he was reading signs in the air.
She raised an eyebrow, then puckered her lips in thought. "Maybe ya hit your head on the way down, too."
He smiled, lifting a brow sardonically – a small, forlorn smile.
"C'mon, Ah'll give ya a lift," she offered.
He took a drag of his cigarette and gave a nod towards the street. "I think dat's my bike down dere. You go on ahead."
"Fine. Here," she handed him his comm device.
"Keep it on you, chere," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "And careful not t'fall from de sky. You could really get… people hurt."
He followed it with a cavalier smile.
"Thanks for the warnin'. Jerk." She stuck the comm device in her back pocket of her small denim shorts and turned around.
Her hair wafted up into the air as a wind billowed past. She never really knew how to react when he acted this way. Sometimes, it was like he gave her these brief glimpses of some very odd part of him that she didn't really know how to react to, but she would always get the impression that she had failed in giving him the correct reaction. And her only natural response to this was to turn her nose up at him.
She didn't have to put up with this shit. She had enough problems of her own.
"Rogue."
Her heart betrayed her, immediately skipping a beat.
"Yeah?"
He thought better of it. "Nothing. I'll see y'back at de mansion."
And she felt her heart sink. She bit her lip, quickly turning her back to him.
"Yeah, Ah'll see ya."
Rogue took into the air and flew off.
Remy looked after her until he couldn't see her anymore. That strange feeling of pseudo déjà vu was gone. So now, he was wondering maybe Rogue had been right. He may have hit his head somewhere going down.
He looked past the edge and found the balcony to the penthouse unit. The floor and the balustrades were chipped and badly in need of a fresh coat of paint.
Out of curiosity, he walked over to the corner of the building, climbed over the edge of the rooftop and hopped onto the balcony, away from the windows. The windows were dark, and it didn't look like anybody was home.
He sneaked past the wall and glanced through the tall pane of glass. Judging by the sheen of dust and grime, it looked like it wasn't currently occupied.
He found the handle to a pair of old glass French doors – the kind that could be locked but not armed with anything too state-of-the-art. But given the overall state of disrepair of the whole unit, he doubted it even had an alarm. He quickly slipped out a lock pick and soon had the door creaking open into a dusty room with a lofty ceiling.
There wasn't any furniture other than the ones built in. One side of the wall was covered in a large canvas. He stepped onto the floor and the carpet made a crunching noise.
It seemed like the owner had abandoned the place halfway into a renovation. He walked across the main area, passed a partially gutted kitchen. Most of the tiles were cracked and dislodged from the walls and the floor.
He found a pile of old mail shoved underneath the door.
He sat on his haunches and picked through what were mostly collection notices and unpaid bills. Business cards from local real estate agencies were also slipped under the door, and he picked one out – the one with the picture of a pretty blond with bright blue eyes. He stared at it for a while.
He stood up to his full height and looked at the apartment again.
Taking out his cellphone, he dialed the number on the card.
"Hello?" a woman's voice answered.
"Hi." Remy looked at the card again. "Is dis Susan from Millenium Real Estate?"
"Yes, this is she. How may I assist you?"
"I'm interested in an apartment in Tribeca, and I was wondering if it was f'sale."
"Of course. Were you just looking in Tribeca, because I have some great units in the Village, SoHo…"
"Actually, I'm interested in dis one apartment in particular. Could y' jus' check an' see if it's available?"
"Certainly. Did you have the address of the property?"
He picked up one of the discarded mail and read the address out loud to her.
"One second." He could hear the clattering of computer keys in the background. "Oh, yes. This one is on the market. If you would like, I can meet you at the property. When would be a good time for you?"
"How 'bout I'll go to you, Susan," he said smoothly.
"Certainly. I can pull out some information on the property, work out the asking price and the current market value of the area. When would you like to stop by?"
He swallowed. This was strange behavior even for him. He never bought a place before – not to his name.
"How 'bout tomorrow?" he heard himself suggest. "Around two in the afternoon?"
"Sure, that sounds great, Mister…?"
"LeBeau."
"Certainly, Mister LeBeau."
Although he could barely even remember any solid details from that sudden déjà vu or dream or whatever it was, but the feeling it left him with, he couldn't quickly shake off. He felt like he had dreamt it wide awake in the split second he had been holding Rogue.
Something that involved the penthouse of this building. And something about her.
It filled him with an ache for something he never had.
He had tried to pin down the haze of feelings with spoken words because he knew it would slip away into oblivion. And a part of him hoped that she could make sense of what he couldn't. But it didn't make any more sense after he said it and Rogue seemed just as clueless.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mister LeBeau. Now that I look at it, it seems the reason this apartment had some trouble selling was that there was some serious structural damage done to it during renovation. There are some ongoing lawsuits going on between the owner and the contractor."
"So it isn't available for sale?"
"You can make an offer, but I'm afraid it won't be a simple and straightforward transaction, and the unit definitely won't be available to move in right away. The way these lawsuits tend to drag out, it may not be available for a while."
Maybe this was a fool idea, but it wasn't the first time he would be accused of being a quixotic dreamer. Besides, it was hard to ignore when the dream featured a girl with pretty green eyes, mismatched hair and a temper as hot as her body.
"Dat's all right. I'm not really ready t'move in myself at de moment..."
Except in the vision, the girl had sultry eyes that danced when she saw him, and full, kissable lips that smiled at him, laughed with him and confessed her secrets in hushed tones to him. It slipped into his mind, intense and hot and passionate, and now it was gone.
Still, he took bigger risks on much less.
"It's mostly just a future investment."
After the phone call ended, he placed the mail back on the ground and tucked the realtor's card in the inside pocket of his coat. His eyes perused around, looking up and down the walls, the windows, the sad state of the kitchen. But he could see that there was potential. Maybe he could install a loft where the wall covered in canvas was. The windows could be expanded out to cover the full length of the balcony, so more light would filter in. He looked up at the ceiling and saw that it had sky lights. She always seemed to like bright places.
He stopped himself, brushing his hand through his hair and shaking it in self-mocking disbelief.
"Dis is crazy," he said to himself.
And it was. He wasn't going to any realtor tomorrow at two, he decided.
As he walked out, he was about to toss his cigarette onto the dusty floor, strewn with debris, but he stopped.
He finally crushed it in his hand and held onto it to chuck it outside. Taking one last look, he closed the door behind him.
Long live Mr. & Mrs. X!
Author's Note: This epilogue is an homage to Rogue and Remy's Tribeca apartment. I got attached to this setting. This last one was kinda hard to write purely in a grammatical sense because I got so comfortable writing in the first person present tense. But so far, all my epilogues were in third person omniscient, and since this was Rogue and Remy in the past, I thought I'd write it in the past tense. And the writing part of my brain begrudgingly hobbled along with the dancing fairy part of my brain, who just shoots out ideas on a whim. So sorry if the sudden switch in narrative style threw some of you. Because it definitely threw me.
A special thank you to NicoPony, emfrost, MakingT'ingsGoBoom, Kim, clamchick, Es1137 for regularly giving me prompt and supportive feedback to give me the self-assurance that things weren't going to crap after the last one-shot or chapter. And all the anonymous "Guest" reviewers, the one-time reviewers, the sometime reviewers, a big, wet, thank you kiss as well! Thank you for reading and your kind words of encouragement!
I loved writing about Rogue and Remy these past 5 months, and I sometimes still have a hard time believing they're actually married. I don't know what it is about these two, but there are certain scenes I imagine in my mind that I absolutely need to see written out. And they aren't even pivotal scenes. They're scenes like Rogue picking lint off Remy's coat, Remy taking Rogue's hand as they just walk through a public square, them sharing an ice cream cone, and it's nothing special but it is special because it's them. That's just infallible chemistry in my opinion. Anyway, it was a pleasure just making up situations for them to rib off each other, pulling heists, fighting bad guys, meeting new neighbors, discussing politics, making up and making out, and just being the best accidental love story that Marvel ever made. I really hope they stay together forever and enjoy every minute of it.
Please leave me a final review on how you liked it and I will adore you for it!
