Prodigal

Chapter 5

By the time their train reached Chicago, Rogue was thoroughly exhausted of that mode of travel. For one thing, it seemed as though they wouldn't reach Seattle for another week. For another, the car became unbearably hot during the day, but since Rogue was not about to expose any of her skin, she had to sweat through it. Exiting that car had been pure bliss, though she had tried not to show it. Of course, Remy had been laughing silently at her. Interestingly enough, she found herself only slightly annoyed, and it had been easy to ignore him and instead concentrate on the liberating feel of fresh air.

Surprisingly, Remy had proved to be an… interesting companion. Ha, Rogue scoffed to herself. If interestin' means scumbag. Remy had revealed himself to be a career thief for hire, and she had deduced from that that he possessed the kind of skills that could earn him a top spot in any number of illegal rackets. In the back of her mind she wondered what kind of things he stole and how he had gotten involved with the Brotherhood. Surely Pietro didn't have the kind of money that she was pretty sure Remy was worth, did he?

Rogue shoved those questions aside, trying instead to focus on the present.

"…find a train to Seattle," Pietro was saying.

"And how did you think we would do that?" Domino questioned dryly.

"Hey, Dom, you know me. I'm not really a plan-ahead-kind-of-a guy," Pietro replied cheerfully.

"That's an understatement," Domino mumbled under her breath. She took charge of the group, sending them off in different directions to search for any kind information about the train yard's maze of tracks and which might lead to Seattle, ending with instructions for everyone to return to the rendezvous point after an hour.

Rogue went in the direction Domino had sent her until she lost sight of all the other members of the team. Then she veered hard left, the direction she'd seen Pietro take, hoping for an opportunity to follow him. If she got lucky, maybe he'd go off and make contact with whoever it was he was working with. If she were really lucky, she'd be able to get the information, make it onto a train back to New York, relay the intel to the X-Men, and be done with this whole mess before the rest of the Brotherhood realized what happened.

A surge of anticipation quickened her footsteps, but she resisted the urge to run, just in case anyone was watching. As it turned out, it had been a worthwhile precaution.

"Y' runnin' away, chère?"

Or it would have been, if the person who caught her hadn't been Gambit.

"Why would you care?" she answered nonchalantly, forcing herself to remain calm. The last thing she needed was him selling her out. Best to let him steer the conversation. She kept walking and Remy followed.

"Cause we friends, an' if y' leave now, who'm I gonna talk to on the long, long train west?"

"Do those lines really work on other girls?" Rogue laughed at him, all the while moving forward.

"Ain't a line," Remy replied.

"Oh please," Rogue retorted. "Do Ah look like Ah'm stupid?" Gambit laughed.

"Non."

To that Rogue had nothing to say, so she kept walking. Behind her, she heard Remy's footsteps speed up.

"C'mon, chérie," he spoke from his new place next to her, "y' know he's goin' come after you. Y' part of th' plan, an' more'n what he says."

Rogue paused and looked at her feet, willing herself to look like a victim. Beside her, Gambit stopped as well.

"So what am Ah supposed ta do?" she asked quietly. "Just wait an' let it happen to me?"

"Non. But y' don' know what the game is, who the players are, an' s'obvious someone b'sides Quicksilver is pullin' the strings. If y' leave now, they'll come after you when you don' expect it. Best to get as much information possible, n'est-ce pas?"

Rogue made a mock of thinking his words over. Inwardly she was trying to squash her frustration with having yet another obstacle to her plans. However, a small part of her conceded that he was partially right—Pietro had been insistent she come on this mission. Was she playing into his hands? There was something about this mission that was off—where were the explosions, the confrontations, the juvenile threats? Sneaking cross country on a train wasn't at all what the Brotherhood was about. The only conclusion was that Pietro hadn't planned this one; he was simply following instructions.

She didn't want to admit it, but Remy was right. Even if she had been able to find out who Quicksilver was working for, it would have been only half the story. It was probably best to stay a little longer, get a little more information. Rogue cringed inwardly as an unbidden memory of Mystique floated to the forefront, something Mystique had constantly reminded her, "Eager fingers make for unsteady shots."

Rogue looked at Remy, who smiled a little in response. What didn't make sense is why he would care enough to warn her.

"Why are ya tellin' me this?"

"Y' keep forgettin': we friends, Rogue," Remy offered easily.

Rogue rolled her eyes.

"If you say so," she muttered.

"Y' don' trust me?" Remy mockingly gave her a wide-eyed look and spread his hands in a wide arc.

"Ya too full of yaself." Rogue stifled a chuckle.

"Y' cruel, chère," Remy accused playfully. "Now, I saw a control tower further west. What say we go find a Seattle train?"

Rogue sighed in resignation. The adrenaline rush from thinking she was getting out had ebbed, leaving her tired. And now she had a whole new set of problems to think about.

"Lead the way, Cajun."

Remy admired Rogue's brass. He had thought her naïve, and she was, but she had more of an agenda than he had originally realized. He'd been expecting her to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, her plans weren't compatible with his payoff. So he'd talked her out of it, making sure she thought it was out of concern and letting her think he was more ignorant than he was.

Not that he had outright lied to her; trying to outrun an unknown threat was risky—you never knew when it would come back to bite you. Remy lived his life that way, always keeping two steps ahead. It had served him well, and the only time he had let his guard down was the time that had changed his life irrevocably.

But he didn't think that that was the only reason he had warned Rogue away from following her first instinct. Some part of him wanted to see her succeed, wanted to watch her outplay them all and get away with it. After all, wasn't the gamble, the risk, part of the thrill?

Besides that, he liked playing games, and she was fun to tease.

"Next time you wan' run away, chère," Remy cautioned cheekily as they made their way to the control tower, "make sure no one's followin'."

"Shut up, Cajun," Rogue retorted.

Remy noted the words lacked any real anger or annoyance, and a glance backwards revealed Rogue to be paying him little attention. Mentally he added a tally mark to his score—she didn't trust him, but she liked him. He also noted that she looked exhausted and, in the light of day, skinnier than he had previously thought. Inwardly, Gambit wondered how if Carter and his employer would care what kind of condition she arrived in. He shook his head. They should have specified in the contract. Still, he wondered when she had had her last decent meal. She seemed a little more inclined to rush in headfirst than to wait and calculate, the kind of thinking that tended to forget small details like basic survival instincts.

They closed in on the control tower, and Remy motioned behind him for Rogue to be quiet. She complied, and they both crouched down behind some abandoned crates to avoid being seen. Gambit watched the tower for a moment before scouting ahead, signaling Rogue to wait for him.

Silently he walked the perimeter of the building. Just before he reached full circle, he heard a door creak open. Remy flattened himself against the wall, listening carefully. There was a jangling of keys before a rail worker moved into Remy's line of sight. Gambit held his breath; if the man decided to turn around, Remy would have less than a second to make it to the other side of the building. Fortunately, the man disappeared into the maze of tracks and trains, leaving the building alone with Remy.

Quickly he rounded the building and waved Rogue forward from her hiding place. She jogged towards him.

"Well?" she questioned, panting slightly.

"Lunch break," he answered succinctly as they made their back to the locked door. "Y'stand watch." Rogue rolled her eyes but obediently took up position while Remy set to work on the lock.

It wasn't very sophisticated—he could have picked it when he was six. Inside, however, was a different story. Computers and other electronics monitored a good chunk of the rail yard. The members of the Brotherhood, Remy knew, would have rummaged around aimlessly, finding what they wanted by sheer luck, but he had been trained how to hack any number of systems—oft times clients sought stolen information rather than goods and thus electronic breaking and entering was as much a part of a Guild thief's repertoire as was picking locks and disabling security cameras. He sat in a desk chair before the nearest computer and cracked his knuckles. However, before he so much as touched the keyboard, he heard a thump followed by a gasp. Anticipating that they had been discovered, he rushed out of the building. From what he had already observed, Rogue wasn't in top fighting condition.

Outside he found Rogue with a hand at her temple. At her feet lay the rail worker Remy had seen leaving earlier. He wasn't moving. Rogue shook her head a few times as though trying to clear it while Remy stifled his surprise. She was more resilient than he had thought.

"Ah thought ya said it was his lunch break," Rogue hissed. Remy shrugged. Rogue's skin was pale and there was sweat on her forehead. Okay, maybe not that resilient.

"Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé ?"

Rogue shook her head again.

"Just put him back inside. Ah got what we need."

For a moment, Remy stared at Rogue, but when her frown started to deepen, he bent to do as she asked.

The man's unconscious weight was awkward to maneuver, his limp limbs flailing. Remy dragged him inside the control room and propped him in the office chair facing the monitors before checking his pulse. His heartbeat was steady, if slow. Deciding there was nothing else he could do without betraying their presence, Gambit exited the building.

What had Rogue done? From what Remy could tell, the man was completely knocked out and wouldn't be waking any time soon, yet there wasn't a scratch on him. In fact, Rogue seemed to be worse off than the rail worker.

Remy suppressed his curiosity as best he could; it was just another piece to the puzzle that was Rogue, and he would figure her out eventually.

Back outside again, he saw Rogue had sat down on the ground, a hand still massaging her temples.

"Y' okay, chère?"

"Fine," she bit out testily.

"He gon' be okay?"

Rogue's eyes flicked to him guiltily before her face hardened.

"Ah only took a little bit…" She shook head one last time. "After a couple a' hours," she finally confessed. "Gonna have a nasty headache though," she added softly.

Rogue didn't say anything else. He watched her silently, noticed how she hugged herself. She made a pathetic picture, small and tired and vulnerable. Whatever it was she had done, it was clear she had found it unpleasant, and the aftereffects were lingering.

In his mind's eye he saw a young boy soaked with hot Lousiana rain, hungry and tired and always hiding his eyes, a burn in his hands he couldn't explain.

"Y' hungry?"

Rogue looked up, confused.

"What?"

"I said, are y' hungry?"

Rogue stared at him. She seemed to be having trouble processing what he was saying.

"Hun… gry…" she repeated brokenly. "Yeah, yeah. It's lunch, isn't it?"

"D'accord. Let's go find something to eat, hein?"

He offered her a hand and she took it, brow furrowed. Remy pulled her up.

"Yeah," Rogue agreed. She squinted at him and dusted herself off absently. "Say, you're new, right? I mean, you seem sorta familiar, but I can't put my finger on it." Rogue looked him up and down. "Uh, you work with Matt, maybe?"

Bewildered, Remy inclined his head in what could be interpreted as assent. Had using her power cost her her sanity?

Rogue nodded, relief evident on her face.

"Right, right. Matt, see, he always invites people without telling me. But," here Rogue looked around as if looking for someone, "where is he? And Vincent. You've met him, right?"

"Yes," Remy agreed. "We meetin' them there." Rogue looked confused. "Guess he didn' tell you…" he added, drawing out you.

"Charlie," Rogue replied, sticking out her hand. When Remy didn't take it, she drew it back sheepishly. "We've met, haven't we? Man, I suck with names."

"Logan! Logan! Emma just picked up Rogue on Cerebro!"

"Where?"

"Chicago. She said it was just a brief flash before—"

"Suit up if you wanna come, Kitty."

Translations

chère dear, darling

Non no

chérie dear, darling

n'est-ce pas? interrogative tag; is it not?

Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? What happened ?

D'accord ok

hein huh