Prodigal

Chapter 4

Rogue's stomach began growling at midday, forcibly reminding her that she hadn't had any breakfast. Unfortunately, she wasn't likely to get anything to eat until the train stopped, and she had no idea when or even if that would be.

But her stomach continued its rumbled complaints, each one successively louder than the last. Thankfully, no one had heard over the noise in the freight car, though the Cajun gave her an amused look when he caught her rubbing her stomach. She had been tempted to stick out her tongue in return; she didn't in hopes of preserving her dignity.

When the Cajun—Gambit as she remembered him introducing himself—had come towards her looking like a cat that had spotted a mouse, she hadn't known what to think. She had been even more surprised when he had outright admitted that he knew she was an X-Man. Because of that, Rogue was suspicious of him. She had no idea what he thought he would gain by his offhand comment, had no idea if it had been honest curiosity or something more. She hoped it wasn't something more because she had had enough of betraying the X-Men. She wasn't willing to do it again, even if she did it without knowing. Probably, she supposed, because somewhere deep down, she hoped that they would forgive for everything she had already done, and she didn't want to make it harder for them than it already would be.

Rogue squashed that hope as soon as she recognized it, reminding herself that there would be no welcoming if she couldn't focus at the task on hand, make this ruse all worthwhile. She shoved thoughts of the X-Men away. It was better to be realistic than to be hopeful, she reasoned.

She chose to concentrate on the near future and whether it would bring the possibility of food. She conjectured that she hadn't eaten a thing for at least twenty-four hours and wondered how the others were faring so well. Perhaps they had brought supplies with them? She had noticed that Domino did have a pack with her; Rogue had just assumed that anything Domino carried was weaponry, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made for Domino to have brought basic provisions. Like Domino had said, she had suspected that Pietro was planning something and thus she had prepared, and "prepared" must have meant she had been ready to take off at a moment's notice.

It wasn't like Rogue didn't know how to do these kind of things. After all, hadn't first Mystique and next Cyclops and then Logan lectured her enough about being prepared? Rogue closed her eyes and a memory washed over her of Logan reminding her to always keep her locker stocked washed. She felt herself start to smile at the remembered sound of his scratchy tone and how he used his gruff demeanor to mask his concern, but she pushed the memory away before she got in too deep. It was her own stupid fault for letting herself be distracted that was without food. If she didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than was necessary, then she'd have to wait it out. Hopefully it would be soon; she didn't really have any bodily reserves on her that could last much longer (she figured she had lost ten pounds, due to stress most likely, in the past month). In the meantime, she held her stomach and tried to sleep against the crate she was leaning on.

When the train finally stopped to refuel in what turned out to be Cleveland, it was the middle of the night. A few hours earlier Pietro had revealed that the plan was to stay on this train until Chicago, after which they would be switching to another freighter that would go all the way to Seattle, so besides a few brief excursions to stretch their legs and relieve their bladders, the whole team settled in for the night, following Quicksilver's continued insistence that they keep a low profile.

Rogue forced herself to wait patiently until she was sure everyone was asleep, and then she shoved aside the cargo door just enough to slip out. She found herself in a large train yard and groaned. It was so much bigger than she had thought. Or not thought. She berated herself sharply for being so stupid and naïve. Did she think that food would just jump out at her? There was no way she could make it out of the train yard and back before the train left.

Think! Think!

No ideas came, however. Feeling like a little child, she couldn't stop the tears from welling in her eyes. Despite them, she started walking anyway. Maybe if she got lost and couldn't find her way back to the train, the Brotherhood would leave her behind and she would be free of them. Her insides swelled with hope before more rational thoughts reminder her of the big if: if Pietro really would let her go, something she seriously doubted seeing as how she seemed to be an integral part of his plan.

She had been walking aimlessly for ten minutes when she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

"Lost, chérie?"

"No," she retorted automatically. She turned around to face Gambit, cringing inwardly at being caught but careful not to show it. In the dark it was hard to distinguish any of his features from each other: all his clean lines blurred in the dim light. However, his eyes were an unnerving red, glowing like the embers of a fire.

Rogue stared him down, determined not to be intimidated by his presence. Unfortunately, her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. Rogue blushed hotly and was distantly grateful for the dark cover of the midnight sky.

Gambit chuckled.

"Ain't'cha a lil' skinny t' be skipping meals?" he asked, amusement ringing clearly in his tone.

"Ah ain't skipping meals," she shot back hotly. He quirked an eyebrow, a gesture she wouldn't have caught if the soft light from his eyes hadn't lit up his upper face in just the right way. "At least, not on purpose," she added in a mumble.

He laughed again and Rogue scowled at him. Before she could ready a retort, he held up his hand to her. Gambit was holding something, but Rogue couldn't quite see what it was, though she heard the telltale crinkle of a plastic wrapper.

"Y' don' know much about being prepared for de long-haul, do ya?"

"What is that?" Rogue questioned before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Why couldn't she have responded to his obvious insult! Now he knew she was interested in what he had, and he wouldn't let that go. Sure enough, when Gambit next spoke, she could hear the self-satisfied grin in his words.

"Well, now, I do believe the Rogue is hungry, and Gambit's got somethin' she wants."

Rogue licked her lips before slapping herself mentally. With all her will power she turned away from him and resumed walking in the direction she had been heading. At the moment, she felt anything would have been better than to beg the arrogant man for whatever was in his hand, even if she starved.

"Wait, chère," Gambit called after her. She paused and looked back. Gambit took the opportunity to close the distance between them. "Y' can have it. I know y' hungry," he said softly, more sincerely.

Rogue looked up at him, not quite coherent enough to be alarmed at how close he was.

"Ah don't want your charity," she spat. Her stomach protested loudly, but she moved away from him again. She didn't get too far; he grabbed her wrist and tugged.

"Que t'es entêtée," he murmured under his breath with a small hint of annoyance. Louder, he addressed her, "S'not charity. S'got strings attached."

With a frown Rogue shook his hand off and subconsciously cradled her wrist to her chest.

"What kind o' strings?" she asked warily, suspecting that this was the part when he requested information on the X-Men. Rogue set her jaw and lifted her head, attempting to look down at him despite the fact that he had six or seven inches on her. Whatever he wanted, he wasn't getting it. She heard Gambit huff, but it sounded mildly entertained rather than annoyed.

"Here's m' terms: you try and be friends wit' Remy and he'll give y' this protein bar." He held the bar out and shook it slightly, as if to emphasize his willingness to deal. Rogue tried not to stare at him, she really did, but his request took her by surprise. "What say you, chère?"

Rogue weighed her options, trying to keep her shock in check. She had been certain he was trying to get information out of her, but all he wanted was friendship? It was so bizarre she couldn't find a reason to disbelieve him. For a few minutes, she tried to think of reason to say no, but eventually her empty stomach won out.

"Fine," she acquiesced. His eyes glowed more intensely for a moment and then he handed her the bar, brushing her fingers as he did so. Rogue told herself the resulting shiver was only because she wasn't used to being touched.

Silently they turned back towards the freight car they had come from. Or rather, Gambit headed back towards their train and Rogue followed, having no clue herself where she had come from. She munched on the protein bar while they walked, but it was gone far too soon.

"So, Remy," she couldn't help saying his name with sarcasm, "ya got any more of these?"

Remy had been all too aware that Rogue had been hungry all day. But he had hesitated in offering her anything, first because he was certain she would reject it, second because he was curious to see how she would deal with such a fundamental problem, and third because he was a master of opportune moments, and he needed some leverage to get her to trust him. He didn't expect her to rely on her teammates—teammate seemed to be a loose term for the Brotherhood—and he wasn't disappointed. The other Brotherhood members kept mostly to themselves, and none of them seemed to have even noticed her predicament.

When night had fallen and he had seen no sign of her eating anything, he had to hide his delight. It was almost too easy. When she slipped from the car, her footsteps slow and soft, he naturally followed.

Despite her obvious hunger (her stomach had been growling rather loudly) and exhaustion, she had reared on him, spitting and hissing like an angry cat too proud to back down from a fight, her proverbial fur puffed to mask her smaller stature. Something about that called to him, reeled him in, and when he traded for her friendship, a small voice suggested that maybe the request wasn't just about the job before scolding him that mixing personal and business was suicidal. But it was too late. He had already made the offer. Besides that, there had been the way she had looked at him, incredulous yet still desperate enough to consider what he had said.

It was something about that, he had decided later after they re-entered the car without waking anyone and she had fallen asleep, a fourth protein bar half eaten in her hand. It was something about how her desperation made her pathetic, how she tempered it with independence and attitude. How it reminded him of himself, how it made him want to gain her trust for himself, beyond what he was being paid for.

And gain it he would have to do, inch by painful inch—she clearly wasn't about to give it freely. In the morning, even as she'd been eating the remaining half of her fourth bar, she had eyed him suspiciously. To distract her, he brought out some playing cards and shuffled them. With her eyes focused on his hands, he studied her face.

She was young, younger than he had originally thought, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made her seem older. Perhaps it was her jaded façade, perhaps it had something to do with whatever problem she had with touching, or perhaps it was the inexplicable white streak in her hair. That patch of hair was white all the way down to the roots, so he deduced that it was natural. Not surprising really—many mutants had less than traditional pigmentation; his own eyes were a perfect example.

Remy watched as she chewed the last bite with a frown. Maybe she looked older than she was because she hardly smiled. Before he could dwell on that thought, Rogue licked her fingers and Remy fought hard to keep himself from grinning. It would be hard to draw conclusions about this one—she had challenge written all over her forehead. Luckily for Remy, he thrived on that sort of thing.

"Still hungry, chérie?"

"Ah ain't yah darling,"

"Didn' say darlin'."

"What's the difference?"

"Chérie sounds more romantic, non?" Remy smirked and Rogue rolled her eyes. "Where you from, chère?"

"Why you askin'?"

"S' part o' th' deal, souviens-toi?"

For a moment Rogue just watched him, like she was trying to decipher his motives. Finally she looked away and gave up with a sigh.

"Miz'zippi," she drawled. She kept her eyes averted and fidgeted with her hands. Remy shuffled his cards.

"What'd you leave for?"

Rogue turned her head slightly and glared at him.

"Don't want ta talk about that," she stated firmly. She kept her glare on Remy, so he stopped shuffling long enough to put his hands out in a placating gesture.

"D'accord. Maybe we talk about me?"

Rogue shrugged before dropping her glare and turning her head once again to the side. Remy began shuffling again.

"Remy LeBeau,." He smiled and stuck out his hand, but Rogue didn't take it. "N'Awlins, she is my city," he bragged. Rogue snorted.

"Anyone who ain't blind, deaf, an' dumb could tell ya that, Cajun."

"That's cadien, chère."

"It's not lahke Ah care," she retorted.

"You sho' not makin' this easy," Gambit noted amusedly. Rogue huffed.

"Look," Rogue finally turned to look at him, "Ah don't really do the whole friend thing, ok?"

Remy studied her face, holding her gaze until she dropped her eyes. She really was much younger than he had initially thought.

"Is that why you're here wit' th' Brotherhood 'stead of th' X-Men?" Remy kept his voice steady and low, hoping the question would come across as non-threatening. He didn't want her to bristle this time, and from her answer he could gauge just how much trust he'd won. He watched her carefully, not moving when she pinned him with a hard look. The tightening of her jaw alerted him to the fact that she was angry that he'd asked her again. He waited her out, hoping she'd answer this time. Eventually, her features sagged slightly as if the fight had gone out of her.

"Yeah, Ah guess," she said tiredly. "S'pose Ah don't have anywhere else ta go."

Remy didn't answer immediately, just kept shuffling his cards and watching intently as Rogue twisted her hands in her lap.

"Y' wan' go back to them?" he cautiously asked, this time keeping his eyes on his cards. It was obvious that his direct gaze unnerved her, and he theorized that she would be more open if he gave her some space.

Rogue chuckled suddenly, bitterly.

"Cain't," she said simply.

"Then that's something we have in common, chère."

"What?" she asked, confused.

Remy smiled to himself.

"Me and N'Awlins," he clarified. "I can' go back either." He sighed. "Ma ville, elle me manque," he lamented, a hand over his heart.

"Why?"

From the corner of his eye, Remy noted that Rogue had stopped fussing with her hands. He smiled broadly—he had finally caught her attention and that accomplishment gave him an unexpected rush.

"Why what?"

"Why cain't ya go back?"

"Aw, chérie, that be a story fo' when we are better friends, non?" He punctuated this with a wink and Rogue scowled in response, but she didn't stalk off the way he expected her to.

"Where are they?" Logan snarled. Toad squirmed in his grip until Logan extended his claws dangerously close to Toad's throat.

"I swear, man! Pietro didn't tell us where they were going!"

"'Us'?" Wolverine repeated. A gulp escaped Toad.

"Yeah. Pietro sent Blob back, you know? But he didn't want to stay here with me, so he left again," Toad answered, tinny, uncontrollable laughter accompanying his words. "Said something about not being able to fit in the train."

Logan dropped Toad unceremoniously to the ground. Toad hopped away from him, chuckling absurdly all the while.

"Wolverine?" Storm questioned quietly.

"He doesn't know anything," Logan replied. "Frost!" he called to the air. There was a pause in which Logan seemed to be listening to something only he could hear, and then he growled loudly. Storm placed a hand on Logan's shoulder. "She can't trace her. Some sort of static or somethin'," Logan explained through gritted teeth.

"What now?"

"I'm gonna have to sniff her out. Maybe find out which train they took."

Translations

chérie dear, darling

chère dear, darling

Que t'es entêtée. Geez, you're stubborn. (entêtée is specifically Cajun French)

souviens-toi? remember?

D'accord ok

cadien Cajun

Ma ville, elle me manque. I miss my city.

non no