Disclaimer: Marvel owns all X-Men related things, though I own this fic and the general concept for it.
Rating: Rated M for language and mature subject matter.
For ROMY AMV fans: If anyone is interested, go to YouTube and search for Rogue Gambit videos. Anything by "karebare89" was made by myself. I have made numerous videos for ROMY, a few anime, and even some of my editing projects from school are up there. Hope you guys check 'em out.
Enjoy the chapter!!
FYI, Before this chapter gets rolling, I want to explain something about the geography of the plot. Now, since Caldecott, Mississippi doesn't exist (though I wish it did because it would make my life a hellova lot easier), I am simply going to assume that Rogue is from Northern to Mid-Mississippi. Some of you may disagree, wanting her to be closer to the border of Louisiana, or simply across from New Orleans. However, it's my story, and the location of Caldecott is undisclosed, so I can do what I like! ^__^
Now, let's mosey!
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A day after Rogue left Mississippi, she arrived in New Orleans. It was a brisk trip, nowhere near as extensive as the general trip back to the south was. No pit stops, no distractions, just the one night stay in Brookhaven before crossing the state-line.
It somewhat shocked Rogue that she seemed eager to go to New Orleans. Last time she was there, it wasn't on the most pleasant of notes. She couldn't help but be reminded of the Cajun. It was inevitable. Rogue knew she wouldn't be able to complete forget about him, especially so soon after leaving. She would have to eventually, but she allowed a brisk notion of him. Like any drug, you can never quit it cold turkey. It'll always nag at you.
So she would indulge in something of him once in a while. The smell of his duster always did in a pinch. Better then some of his cigarette cravings she would get. But eventually, she knew she had to start forgetting about him. Otherwise, she'd never be able to move on instead of running away.
After the night stay, Rogue got into New Orleans while the morning was barely out. She had much rather look around and enjoy the place Irene left her without simply wanting to crash at the sight of a bed.
So, well rested and well feed, Rogue made into the city and eventually found her way around, making it to the house that was waiting for her. Man, when Irene said she left her an estate, she left her a friggin' legacy.
The place could have very well been described as a mansion. The only way Rogue could've figured it came into Irene's care was family inheritance or that a life with evil does pay… BIG time!
This was more then a shelter over her head, this was luxury in its basic form, and Rogue suddenly felt very humbled and embarrassed.
"Mo' then Ah deserve, o' need. But at least Ah won' be cold at night no mo'," Rogue chuckled to herself as she grabbed the little amount of supplies she had and made her way up the path and into the house.
The inside looked as impeccable as outside. Fully furnished, plants growing everywhere, hardwood rich flooring, echoing rooms, and the biggest kitchen Rogue had ever seen. She even had to guess it was bigger then the one at the Institute.
At the sudden thought of home, Rogue was sent into a shiver of what she left behind. She tried to push it all back, but the memories were winning out. As her eyes watered, Rogue simply turned away and tried to find something else to draw her attention.
In the family room, she found numerous pictures that she instantly recognized as from the house back in Caldecott. The same metal frames, same pictures. At least they made it out okay.
Rogue gently picked one up off the mantel and looked at it thoughtfully, holding it between both hands. It was of her when she was eleven. She had only recently started living with Irene by then and was still shy. Though not much had seemed to change in that time.
Rogue couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous she thought she looked. Her hair was a fuzz ball when she was a kid. She never knew how to take care of it properly, so she always had curls and waves. As a result, she braided it in pigtails so it wouldn't show as much. The bows in her hair were so girly; it nearly made her cringe… nearly.
Her freckles were so obvious, and she always out in the sun too much, so the white streaks near her face always made her look more tanned then usual. That stopped when the bogus skin condition issue arose. Inside all the time, covered head to toe. Thinking about it now, Rogue only just realized what she had given up as a kid when she became a teenager.
Shaking her head, she placed the picture back on the mantel and continued to look around, thinking there was much more to be seen.
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Hours later, after settling in, unpacking, reorganizing some things, Rogue decided to explore more of the city.
She had never been to New Orleans when Mardi Gras wasn't in progress. It would be good for her to get to know the city as a citizen rather then a tourist (or kidnappee).
It was almost dinnertime by then, so she dressed a little nicer then normal. With no one with her, she was less prone to hurt someone. Deep-v neckline, dark teal color, dark jeans, pair of black ankle boots, and her gloves. She even felt like controlling her curls for once. Now that she was on her own, she could experiment with her look even more then back at the Institute, where everyone would have to comment on how non-Gothic she looked.
She quickly looked herself in the mirror and instantly thought for a second what on earth she was doing. Why was she going out like she was celebrating? In a sense, she was. Celebrating the beginning of a new life for herself. One where she could be whomever she wanted. But deep down, she knew she only wanted to be herself… and herself wanted Remy.
It seemed wrong to be there without him. Like she was on a vacation and didn't pack something important.
In that instant Rogue squashed her thoughts and slowly started to repeat her mantra.
"You've gotta move on, sugah. Our lives are better without each other in them. It's better for us both."
'You just keep telling yourself that, you little witch.'
Carol was doing it again. Rogue quickly paused all that she was doing and rubbed her temples in concentration, trying to block off the imaginary woman. Instead, she only got more rowdy and upset.
'You'll never get rid of me, Rogue. After all, you took all that I was. My powers, my memories, my life! You can't block me out forever!'
After a few moments, Rogue calmed herself and the psyches in her head, including Carol. So there was more to move on from then just her former lover. Rogue would handle it. She had to… if she wanted to retain any of her sanity.
With frizz free hair, a dash of lip-gloss, and good head on her shoulders, Rogue was out the door in the breezy spring of New Orleans; intent on becoming the Rogue she always wanted to be.
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Present…
Remy could describe his new 'awakening' as the bottomless pits of hell. Staring up at the same damn ceiling every night.
Life wasn't nearly as much fun as he remembered it to be before he was with Rogue. The bars were all boring, the alcohol tasteless, and the women less attractive then ever. Though he would never want to admit it, he did try to talk himself into forgetting Rogue, much like she had done to him, he felt. Since then, few times a week, he would be out as some bar, seeing if any of that old spark could be put back into his life. But every time, it was always the same boring, tasteless, ugly trash that just kept coming back. The most popular bar in New York, the richest Amoretto in the country, and the most seductive women he could find. But still… nothing felt right without her.
Every time he went to have a glass of bourbon, all he felt was the sting down his throat, never the flustered, high he got like the night he and Rogue were first together.
It had been a month since he got out of that damn coma – nearly two since Rogue had left - and yet, there was no word from her. It was like she had dropped off the face of the planet. None of his old contacts that were still loyal to him could dig up anything on her. The farthest they got was that she was down south, something Remy had already guessed on his own. It was the where in the south that was the problem. Caldecott had been his first thought, but it was quickly discovered that the place she used to live in hadn't been touched in a while. The same went for the rest of the county.
Remy, and his infinite memory banks, desperately scanned through his many talks with Rogue about places she liked to go or where she wanted to go. She did mention Paris once, but he highly doubted she would leave the country, especially with the bike she took with her.
Maybe California?
No; she always said she would only go there if she were with someone. And he always said that they would go out there someday.
Remy sat up in his bed, once again unable to sleep, tortured with his thoughts. He got out of his bed, grabbing a t-shirt as he went, and headed down to the kitchen, hoping that if he though really hard about Rogue, the alcohol might just do something more for him then just burn his esophagus.
The kitchen light was already on and Remy could distinctly hear jars clattering and bags moving around in a fridge. He, nonchalantly walked into the room, finding Logan buried deep in the fridge, seemingly as frustrated as the Cajun was.
"Bon chance. I saw some of de younger students grabbin' de last of de beer for some underage debauchery."
Logan didn't even look twice at Remy before slamming the door shut and walking up to the man with an open hand, "I know you've got somethin' lyin' around here, Cajun. Fork it over," was all he demanded.
Remy sighed, reaching into his hideaway and pulling out a spare beer for the burly man. Logan accepted it in silence and chugged nearly half of it in one go. Remy watched as he got his glass of spiced rum, an optimistic change.
Remy took a swig.
And sadly, just as stale.
Logan finished off the beer and quickly took notice of Remy's constant eye rubs, the dark circles becoming more apparent every day. As the Cajun hung his head, his hands against the counter, Logan could only speak up.
"You just… wonder what you could have done differently."
Remy's head remained down as he turned to face the Canadian, "I wonder dat every day of my damned life. Makes no difference now, does it?"
"Y' ain't the only one, Gumbo. We all got a past. Only difference is that yours affected Rogue."
Finally lifting his head up, Remy, and that defeated look on his face, turned to Logan, "It shouldn've."
"Too late for that now, Cajun. You got greedy."
"I t'ought I was gonna die."
"That don't change what happened in the tunnels."
"What would you have done, eh?!" Remy snapped back, shaking his head soon after, "Stupide to ask to the man who won't die."
"Just because I haven't been in your shoes, doesn't mean I haven't been in Rogue's!" Logan argued, catching Remy's attention immediately, "I've seen what it's like to watch someone you care about die right in front of you and all you can do is give them their dying wishes."
"Anyt'in' as terrible as sacrificin' yo' sanity for somethin' most people get every day? I highly doubt it, mon ami." Remy trailed off as he tossed the glass back into the sink, passing Logan and heading out the room.
"Cajun," Logan called out, seeing Remy turn back to him over his shoulder at the door, "Rogue is the closest thing I got to a family. It killed me to see her go like that. I know it ain't yer fault entirely, but I needed to put blame somewhere."
Remy never thought he'd ever hear a form of apology from Logan in his lifetime, let alone to him, "Sinister, and his Marauders, would be a good place to start."
"I know. But I need to know something," Logan started, Remy slowly turning fully around back into the kitchen, "Would you ever go back to the way you used t' be; player or mercenary?"
Remy couldn't even comprehend the question as he only knew one answer, "Dere be too many skeleton's in my closet already. I was hopin' to clear it out wit' Rogue and de X-Men. Don' t'ink, after all dis, I would ever go back to dat life again. Given me too many nightmares as it is."
Logan didn't speak again about Remy's loyalties to Rogue or the team. He wasn't lying.
"I take it you've already tried to find Rogue through yer resources?" Logan asked, crossing his arms over his chest, coming out of the serious conversation into a semi-serious one.
"What makes y' t'ink I have resources?" Remy replied, copying the stout man's action, only with a slight grin of curiosity in his features.
Logan grinned back, "That bad, huh?"
Remy responded in kind, "Gave me not'in'."
Logan thought for a second, "Any general direction?"
"South… dat's all I got." Remy replied instantly.
Another pause from Logan, "Well, yer resources may not be able to track her, but maybe Cerebro's can."
Remy was suddenly beginning to like the man standing before him. He looked forward to working with him again in the future.
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YAY! Another chapter done within a week! Sweet!
Well, I tried to get some Carol banter in there, as well as an actual direction for our epic hero, Remy, to take on getting his cherie back. Thought maybe there should be an eye for an eye moment with the two important men in Rogue's life. And now… they're working together! AWW, how cute!
LOL, but PLEASE review you guys. I really want to finish this story, but the motivation to continue is slowly dying. I need a boost!
But as always, I'll take any comments you guys have for me with a smile. ^__^
Until next time…
