At last, we finally come to ROMY's new home. Where is it, you ask? Where in good God's name has this insane author been leading us for three chapters? Read on and find out!

Also, I feel like this chapter is really awkward or awkwardly written. I'm not sure what's wrong with it though. If you tell me, I'll be happy to edit it. I worked really hard on the tarot readings too. That was fun.

Enjoy!

-Forbala-

CHAPTER NINE: TAROT CARDS

The Wolverine was getting closer.

They had changed their appearances in Atlanta and it would make sense that they got new ideas in the same city. He knew they were running from him. What he didn't know was if Stripes was willingly running, or if she had been kidnapped again by that damned Cajun.

Chuck had asked and even begged Logan not to chase them, telling him to listen to reason, that Rogue was okay and she didn't want to be found.

"And how do you know that, Chuck?"

"She's given us no indication otherwise," the Professor had said. But there was a mystery in his eyes. Logan knew he was hiding something. He bet Chuck had used Cerebro to track Rogue and reach into her head, and though Logan pushed, the Professor had not yielded. So Logan had growled and stormed out.

And now Wolverine was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and hiding out in the slums of Atlanta. He stopped anyone who passed and asked where he could get a fake ID. Some didn't answer at first. All of them answered fifteen seconds later.

So he was roaming Atlanta in the middle of the night, stalking everyone who had ever made a fake ID and scaring the piss out of all of them. Thus far, none had yielded any information, even after he had banged them up. Now he walked into a dingy apartment building. It smelled of sewage and god-knows-what. There were cockroaches, spiders, bugs, and possibly a rat. Everything was dirty and even the smell seemed brown.

X

The long, long, long as fuck train ride went through most of France, further and further south, until Marielle thought they would just keep going south until they drowned in the Mediterranean Sea. But they did eventually shift east, and then Marielle was very confused. Were they going to—she had to bring up a map of Europe in her mind—Italy? Or Germany? But neither person spoke Italian or German, and why would they take a train on such a long-ass ride? No, they had to be staying in France. They both spoke French fluently. It was easy for them to blend.

It was after dark when the train finally stopped. Europeans tended to eat dinner later than Americans and, what with their jetlag, Marielle and Raoul were more than a little hungry and plenty tired.

Raoul had not stopped sexually harassing Marielle throughout the whole ride, under the guise of being an attentive husband. "Can't let my chere miss out on a single moment of loving," he said.

"Shut up, you danged idiot!"

But Raoul knew he was getting to her. He hadn't touched her skin again, but he had touched her through her clothes—her hips, her knees, her thighs, arms, and back. He had even sat down on the floor of their car and tried to massage her feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked nervously.

"Massaging your feet."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

She had pulled her feet onto the bench and tried to smack him away until he said, "Chere, what harm is there in massaging your feet? Raoul just trying to be nice." She harrumphed and extended her legs again, but she had smacked him when he tried to massage up her ankles and calves.

But they had stopped now. Thank any god that would listen, they had stopped. Entering the station, Marielle saw that the signs were all in French and English. They were clearly in a big tourist location. Was it Marseille? Nice?

But then she got confused when she saw they were in the line for customs. "Where in hell are we?" she asked, looking up at Raoul.

"You'll see in un moment."

Marielle sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. Again, Raoul made sure she didn't know their location. Marielle had grown bored of glaring at him.

Yeah, that was a lie.

She glared at Raoul so hard he was beginning to wonder if his head wouldn't explode. But he wouldn't have minded. Even when she hit him and pummeled him and yelled at him, she was sexy and he couldn't get enough. He might be a masochist. She didn't seem to realize that. She didn't seem to realize he actually, truthfully thought her the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. But he would fix that. She would realize it, and he would prove it in any way possible. Even if that meant he was in a coma for the rest of his life. He didn't care.

They walked out of the station and onto a busy street, lit like Christmas in New York. Marielle's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in awe and shock when she read one of the many city signs.

"Welcome, chere, to Monte Carlo."

X

"Oh my god. Oh my god!"

Marielle was too amazed to say much else. She had never been to Las Vegas, but she knew Monte Carlo was the Las Vegas of Europe, and if Las Vegas was half what Monte Carlo was, it had to be truly incredible.

"I can assume you're excited, then, chere?"

Marielle didn't even spare him a "no shit, Sherlock" look. She was too, well, excited. She could only smile. People were everywhere, doing everything. There were street performers and artists, people drunk from too much partying and gambling, people in formal gowns and tuxedos.

They grabbed dinner in a small fast-food restaurant and had barely finished when Marielle raced back into the streets, trying to take in everything.

Suddenly, she grabbed the sleeve of Raoul's trenchcoat and pulled him to a folding table covered in a bright cloth. At the table was a pretty woman with olive skin, bright eyes, and curly dark hair. She wore a purple tunic dress with gold accents and she had a French braid on one side of her head, flowing into the loose strands of her curly mass. She wore eyeshadow and red lipstick and looked like a gypsy.

"Good evening. Would you like me to read your fortune?" the woman asked pleasantly, picking up a deck of cards. She spoke good English but she was clearly French.

"Yes, absolutely!" Marielle said.

The woman passed the deck to Marielle and said, in French this time, "Think of a question and shuffle the cards. You do not have to speak the question aloud."

Marielle spent a moment thinking of her question, then shuffled the deck, concentrating hard on her question. When she was finished, the gypsy woman began pulling cards from the top of the deck and laying them out: vertical, horizontal atop the first card, vertical above the stacked cards, three more cards clockwise, then four cards to the right, bottom to top.

Marielle watched with curiosity as the woman turned over the first card: a skeletal knight with a white rose flag and corpses. "You are in the midst of a rebirth. Accept the changes around you."

Well, that was freakishly accurate, Marielle thought.

When the second card was flipped, Marielle saw a young woman holding a lion's head. "You are lacking self-confidence and feel out of control. Trust yourself." Card three a corpse riddled with swords. Okay, creepy. "You fear change and failure. But do not despair; good things may arrive."

The fourth card showed a goat man lording over two enslaved people. "Your past was restrictive and based on superficial relationships."

No kidding, Rogue thought, seeing Mystique's face in her mind.

The woman flipped the next card. A woman tied to swords and blindfolded; it was upside-down. "Recently your past has haunted you. Be cautious." The sixth card was a happy couple beneath a winged lion's head. Okay, weird image. "In the near future you will find romance and a new stage in your relationship."

Well that didn't please Marielle very much, but glancing at Raoul she saw him smiling. She smacked him in the stomach, but he quickly recovered with that dumbass grin.

Card number seven was a woman holding a sword and dressed in armor. "You have faced much difficulty in your life, but you press bravely on. Your wits and sharp tongue hide your fears." Eight: another person surrounded by swords. This woman was crying. "This is the darkest hour. Things will improve soon."

Card nine was a young man fending off attackers with a wooden staff. It was curiously reminiscent of a certain Cajun. "This man battles happily despite unlikely odds. You want to cheer this person on." Raoul smiled again at that and Marielle elbowed him hard. That card was clearly wrong.

The final card was a happy family beneath—wait for it—a rainbow with golden goblets in it. No joke. "You will find happiness and domestic peace."

Marielle seriously doubted that, but whatever. She nodded and thanked the woman.

"And you, sir? Would you like me to tell your fortune?" the woman asked as Marielle thought on her results.

"No, thank you. I make my own fortune," Raoul said, pulling out his wallet to pay the woman for Marielle's telling.

"No! Raoul, you have to get your fortune read!" Marielle said suddenly, snatching his wallet away for some reason.

Raoul looked at her. The telling had seemed to rattle her and he really didn't want to see his own reading, but she wanted to see Raoul's fortune and so he would have his fortune told.

"Yes, all right then."

When the first card was turned over, the gypsy woman began to speak.

The card depicted a man rowing a boat to a distant shore, with several upright swords in the prow. "Your are struggling with a great task, but relief will come soon." The second car depicted a man looking at three goblets of spilled wine, with two upright goblets behind him. "You—or perhaps someone near to you—can see only the negative things and cannot see the good things you have."

The third card was a smiling queen with a large cat in her lap. "The woman you seek brings light and happiness to those around her." The next card was a depressed-looking man being offered a goblet from…God? A hand stretched out from the clouds, holding the cup. "You had a difficult past and became withdrawn." Next was a large golden goblet in a pond. "Recently you have found a bright new path, perhaps involving a lover." The next picture was of a knight holding a large gold coin with a pentacle on it: "You must take your responsibilities seriously and leave nothing unattended."

Marielle looked over and saw that Raoul's eyes were dark, but he still wore the mischievous expression he was known for. The seventh card was—that same man from before, fending off attackers with a smile on his face. "You battle fierce odds but you will be victorious." Raoul's face lit up so brightly at this that Marielle was stunned and could only think of how handsome he looked when he smiled. She couldn't even remember what he was smiling about.

The next card, eight, was the woman blindfolded and bound and surrounded by swords, only this time it was upright. "You cannot ignore this situation. You must face it squarely." Nine was a pair of lovers hugging, observed by an angel. "You desire love and friendship, a soul mate." And the tenth card was that damned happy family showing up again. The gypsy's words were almost the same as before: "You will find peace and happiness and have a happy family life."

Raoul thanked the gypsy profusely and paid her, giving too much tip, then took Marielle's waist and lead her away. "Come on, chere, let's go find our apartment."

"We have an apartment?" she asked, pulling away. She was glad he was happy, but she wished he wouldn't be so hopeful. She understood that reading as well as he, and she knew it could never happen, no matter how hard she wanted it to—er, he. Raoul wanted it. Marielle did not. Not with him.

"Oui, of course. And we've a long…however many hours it's been since we left Charleston, and Raoul wants to sleep."

Raoul looked at the address on a slip of paper, asked directions from a policeman outside the Monte Carlo Casino—which was beyond words incredible, by the way. Seriously, Google it—and they walked the few blocks to an apartment complex. They went into the office and found a young man at a desk, reading a magazine. He looked up when they entered, looking bored.

And then his eyes found Marielle and he immediately perked up. I sure hope they're not siblings, he thought.

"Good evening, how may I help you?" he asked, standing to shake Raoul's hand and kiss Marielle's through her glove. She retracted it quickly and blushed, while Raoul tried very hard not to punch the desk clerk.

He put his arm around Marielle's waist and pulled her close. She blushed and tried weakly to pull away, but Raoul had a tight grip on her and she quickly gave up. "My wife and I," he said lightly, though Marielle heard the terseness and anger in his tone, "have just arrived and would like our keys. My name is Raoul Picard."

The clerk's face fell at the word "wife." He turned to the computer, pulled up some document or other, turned to a box behind him, and handed over a bronze key. "You're apartment is 609," he said despondently.

"Thank you," Raoul said. He was about to turn when the desk clerk spoke again.

"Miss, if there is anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to let me know." And then the man had the balls to smile and wink.

Raoul fingered the pack of cards in his pants pocket, then decided against it. It would do no good to blow up the apartment before they had even moved in.

Instead, he said simply, "Thank you. Mrs. Picard won't need a thing." Raoul brushed Marielle's hair back and kissed her hard on the lips, almost passing out from the effort. He pulled away at the last moment and walked drunkenly to the elevator, leaning heavily on Marielle, who was flushed and breathing heavily, too shocked and breathless to yell at the thief. Though she did pinch him in the side, he knew it was well worth it.

As the elevator doors began to close, Raoul winked and smirked at the desk clerk.