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(LadyMageLuna, thank you for your consistent support of my work. SilverWolf77, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, Fostersb, chrono-contract, cara410 and triolet, thank you all so very much for your kind words and your praise, I am so glad you enjoyed this so , well, y'all know how I feel about you sugah, thank you for everything ^V^ AshmandaLC, my little Pirate Queen, here's a little somethin' somethin' ^V~and Irual my dear, thank you for looking out for my health, I promise, now the creation is done, there will be rest - and cookies! Enjoy, my friends... )


Who Knew?

Part 4

"... you look so fahne... Ah wanna break your heart, and give you mine – you're takin' meh over... It's so insane... you've got meh tethered an' chained, Ah hear y' name... An' Ah'm fallin' over..."

He heard the soft, whisperlike voice singing to him, a lullaby that the frightened child in him responded to, and he pushed through the heavy grey mantle towards the sound of salvation.

"... Ah'm not lahke all the other girls... Ah can' take it lahke the other girls... Ah won' share it lahke the other girls, that you used t' know..."

He opened his eyes and noticed that there was no sharp cutting of white light that he was accustomed to upon waking. Instead, the lights were dim and he could see her face only because she was so pale... her skin glowed with an inner light, the same light that illumined her eyes, and he noticed the deep shadows under them that had nothing to do with a lack of proper lighting.

"I'd never ask y' to, ma chere..." he breathed, and she met his gaze, the fear in those beautiful green pools cutting as surely as if someone had turned on a searchlight in front of his face.

"Shhh..." she said, placing her hand over his eyes, and he closed them, noting that before where her touch had always been cool, now her skin was like ice.

"Chere... Don' do dis... If y' don'... Wan' t'..." he managed, and she stroked his hair out of his face.

"Knocked down, cried out... Been down just to find out... Ah'm through... Bleedin' f' you..."

He swam in the soft, soothing sound of her voice, the feel of her skin against his, and he gravitated toward the feel of her so close to him, so close... There was an almost detached feel to her actions, as though she were centering her energy on the words spilling from her lips, cocooning him, focusing on that to draw herself from the reality that was their situation, and he fought to stay awake, to speak, reassure her, but at the same time he knew he'd lost the battle before he'd even been aware it was happening, losing himself in the nearness of her, feeling it invade him and welcoming it...

~***************************************************************~

She felt more like her own heart had broken within her as she looked down at him lying there, so vulnerable, so open. She could let him die. She could let him drift away into nothing, but she couldn't. She didn't know where the words came from, she'd never sung to anyone in her life, but she knew that she needed to focus herself around them, give them the part of her that needed him to wake up, needed him to be alright. She wondered whose heart would replace hers now that it was broken, and wondered if his hadn't broken a long time ago, too.

His words tore into her and she should have felt something more, something else, but all she felt was an overwhelming guilt. He didn't know. He didn't know that she had to do this, that she had no choice. That she wanted no choice, now that she was touching him again, now that she was by his side again. It had been so easy to repress the way she had felt before, focus on Kurt's injuries as a result of this, but she knew now that she'd never be able to deny him the help he needed when she could touch him like this.

Was this what she had come to? Willing to lay down her own safety and that of those around her for the sake of touch? Had it become such an obsession, such a weakness? Her fingers tangled in his hair, longer than it had been when he had taken her on her way to school and brought her to New Orleans to use her powers to fulfil his mission. It suited him. Her snow-white fingertips played over the strong lines of his jaw, the softer contours of his cheek, his neck... She had refused to acknowledge it back then, when her 'family' rescued her from the Bayou and she had left him behind, that she thought him intrigueing. Even handsome. She had denied any attraction to him and played up the emotional distress of the experience, forcing the others to taboo the subject to avoid having to have him brought up at every turn.

No, it wasn't touch that was the weakness, the tripwire. It was him. The memories of fighting alongside him still ghosted the periphery of her dreams, she still recalled the exact tone he employed when he called her 'chere', the battered Queen Of Hearts he had placed in her hand with the assurance that she would be fine was hidden under the red velvet inlay of her little silver music box, a gift from Logan on her seventeenth birthday.

'You got people, watchin' f' y'...' Yes, she did. She had Kitty, her fountain of good will and cheer, practically her sister, Kurt, her doting brother, Logan, the father she'd never had or simply couldn't remember. And there was the extended gallery of Storm, the eternal mother in all their lives, Hank, more like a wise old grandfather than anything else, always so concerned. Jean and Scott, who lived with them on a part time basis only now that they were both finishing their degrees and had finally married – the wedding had been last year, Jean had decided on deep green silk for the bridesmaids' dresses because Rogue had jokingly said she wouldn't be caught dead in cream or pink. Rogue had only joked about it because she hadn't thought Jean would ever want her to be her bridesmaid. But she had been. And there was the Professor, the ever-present voice of reason, the calm centre towards whom they all flowed, the natural point of focus in their strange family.

She had friends, too. Kitty and Lance were engaged, and Scott had finally accepted that whatever else the Brotherhood leader might be, he was genuinely in love with Katherine Pryde. It was so strange the way they had all grown up, she thought. Lance was one huge block of solid muscle and solid leadership, always there to help out or just listen if you felt like venting. He had gotten over the temper issues of his teens and calmed down considerably, and he had proposed to Kitty on her eighteenth birthday. There had, of course, been much excitement, but Kitty had insisted they drag things out and see if they could handle the transition from adolescents to adults so they had set no date yet and it was a long-standing engagement, but so far they might as well be married the way Rogue saw it. They were the perfect couple.

Then there was Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch - and the sweetest damn person Rogue thought she'd ever met. Troubled and scarred by her past and the way her father had treated her, she had regained her lost memories piece by piece over the past three years and, with help from the Professor, worked through them as they came back to her in connection with intensive therapy and counselling with her brother, Pietro. Magneto had agreed to leave the Institute to pursue a quieter, more introspective life elsewhere until Xavier could report to him that Wanda and Pietro were now ready to accept him back into their lives, and Rogue knew that although Wanda would never forgive him, she was dealing with her anger and she was living her life the way a young woman ought to. And it was in no small way Pyro's doing that she was even willing to accept the possibility of dealing with things. The pyrokinetic mutant had shown up at the Brotherhood House, slammed five hundred into Lance's open hand and set up shop in the room opposite Wanda's two months after the defeat of Apocalypse, and Gods help her, Rogue had to admit he had been heaven-sent. With his remarkable ability to permeate every person in the house with a sense of fun and community, he had been instrumental in bringing Wanda and Pietro together and forcing Wanda to open her eyes to the fact that her 'nightmares' were in fact memories when the other boys were too afraid to broach the subject with her.

Wanda and Pyro had been one of those couples that started as an odd sort of friendship and quite suddenly blossomed into a completely unforeseen romantic relationship of frankly epic proportions. While Scott and Jean had been a slow-burning flame that warmed those around them, and Kitty and Lance had been a steady rising heat that neither ebbed nor faded with time, Wanda and Pyro apart were fire incarnate but together were an inferno in the truest sense of the word. Just being around them was to feel incinerated by their passion – Rogue called them Gomez and Morticia for the way they made everything in their day-to-day lives about them and the way they connected. Wanda was likely the only woman Rogue knew of who didn't get suspicious when her guy brought her flowers for no reason other than 'it's been two days', or who didn't think it odd to suddenly waltz around the living room because 'we haven't danced yet this week'. Pyro was unexpectedly a complete romantic, and given his dramatic side and the fact that they were both incredibly passionate people, their relationship reflected that. It was a wasted moment for both of them if they weren't touching each other, and rather than feeling somehow left out and saddened by the way they expressed their love, Rogue felt as though she were almost part of it. She knew it drove Pietro up the wall and that Toad had had a hard time coming to terms with it, but strangely none of them ever confronted Pyro with his infatuation and they certainly never asked Wanda what the deal was. Rogue's suspicion was that they were all a little afraid of what might happen if they tried to break them up, and living and having to witness their shameless love affair was infinitely preferable to dying messily.

Wanda was also one of the very few people who knew that Rogue and Remy had made their own connection on the road to liberating his father, and since Pyro was a one-time friend and confidant of Remy, Rogue was sure he knew too. Not that they would ever tell anyone, but perhaps Remy would like his old friend to at least know that he was here?

"How are ya, kid?" asked a gruff voice, and she turned her head to see Logan entering the room. She hadn't seen Kurt yet, they'd patched him up and installed him in his own room to heal. She didn't even know the full extent of his injuries.

"Ah'm alraght Logan..." she said quietly, and he pulled up a chair next to her.

"An' this one, how's he holdin' up?" She made a soft, noncommittal noise.

"He's fahne. Gettin' better. He was awake a little while ago... Logan, Ah wanna know how bad Kurt is. Y'all won' tell me an' Ah need ta know." Logan put a hand on her shoulder.

"Lost a few patches of skin on his upper body, blew a chunk of his thumb but that'll all heal back, mostly it was the shock that got 'im. He's fine, Stripes. He's already been up an' about so don't you worry about that. He said he'd visit you down here later." She leant against the big man for a few minutes, silent, until he said,

"You know you're the bravest damn kid I've ever met, Rogue. I'm proud of ya." She nodded and kept her hand on Remy's, her eyes fixed on him.

"What if he doesn' get any better? What if his powers aren' gonna let him control them?" she asked, and Logan shrugged.

"Well, from what I've seen of the rat he's got a pretty strong will to live, and he's gotten through one power surge before alone when he was younger or so his Aunt tells us – damn fine woman that Mattie," he added, and Rogue smiled at him.

"Is that what it takes ta get in your good books? Jus' gotta threaten you?" He frowned.

"You mind your business girl," he said roughly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Don' gimme that Logan. Ah know it when Ah see it."

"Ya know too damn much, always were too clever f' your own good," he grumbled, and nodded towards the youth on the bed who was looking at them with a confused sort of expression on his face.

"What..?" he asked, and Rogue said,

"He jus' came by ta see how y'are, don' worry," and Remy closed his eyes and nodded.

"'M sorry," he said, looking past her at Wolverine, who blinked a few times before shaking his head.

"Ya don' gotta be sorry round me, kid. This ain' your fault." Remy pushed himself up using his elbows and Rogue let go of him for a moment to let him.

"Shouldn' 'a' taken 'er dack den - done a lot 'a stupid tings. 'M sorry," he repeated, and Logan's expression softened just a touch as he reached out and clapped the boy's shoulder.

"It's okay. We're good. Now I'll leave you kids to it, Stripes – don't go tiring her out now, ya hear me boy?" Remy smiled weakly, a smidge of his old insolence peeking through the drawn, ill exterior.

"Try not to," he said, and Rogue smiled at Logan who stood and left them. She felt suddenly strange, sitting there next to Remy, alone, when he was awake and seemed better than he had in her company yet.

"Chere..?"

"What?" she asked, head still turned away, and he took her hand carefully and murmured,

"Won' y' even look at me?" She turned her head and fixed her eyes on their hands, the little pink sparks flowing into her skin. He was so much warmer than her...

"M' face, chere," he said quietly,

"Can' y' look me in de eye no more? Don' blame y'... I never liked dem neit'er..." She steeled herself and pulled up her scowl, meeting his eyes even though she felt completely terrified of doing so. It wasn't the eyes themselves that caused the fear, no, they were beautiful. Fascinating, deep, they glowed and pulsed and made him look even more wild and alive than otherwise.

"Guess it's too much t' ask f' a smile," he sighed, and she pushed her bangs out of her face.

"Well y'all never gave meh much ta smile about," she said, accusations rife in her tone, and he shrugged.

"No. Pity, I was too dumb t' realise dat y' smile's a lot prettier dan de alternative," he said regretfully, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Ah may not be the prettiest gal in the world, LeBeau, but if y'all wanna die ya jus' keep insultin' meh an' Ah'll arrange it!" she snarled, and he shook his head, a smile playing about his lips.

"Chere, y' gotta f'give me f' bein' outta trainin'. What I mean' was, seems like makin' y' smile's de only way t' get rid o' some o' dis guil' I been carryin' around all dis time, an' I never was one f' guilt. It ain' my style... So if y' could smile f' me, I can lie t' myself an' pretend y' don' hate ol' Remy as much as y' got de right t'..." he said softly, and her eyes widened before she clamped her lips firmly together and looked away from him.

"I know dis is de las' place y' wanna be', chere... 'm sorry. I can' undo what I did, I hoped y' could f'give me f' usin' y' but if y' can' do dat, I know I don' deserve it anyway," he added, and she made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Y'all should hear y'self talkin'... Biggest pile o' crap Ah ever did hear," she said harshly, and he squeezed her hand.

"Chere... I fucked up. I know I did. But I mean' when I said I was sorry. I t'ought I could use y' an' walk away but it ain' dat simple. Y' ain' de kinda femme y' can walk away from." She looked at the tired sincerity on his face and wondered if he even had the energy to lie to her.

"Ah wanted ta believe you weren' jus' some creep, that ya really did do it for ya family, your father, an Ah really wanted ta believe ya gave meh that card because ya felt bad f' takin' meh away from the people who watch over meh, but ya're a liar, Remy. Ya know ya are. An Ah've learn' not ta trust anybody but the people who ain' never lied ta me before," she said, her voice cold, and he nodded.

"I know. Y' were an unhappy girl, Rogue... Looks like some tings don' change," he said sadly, his eyes lowering to their joined hands.

"People don' change. Ah've seen enough t' know that much. Ya can' tell meh y'all have been livin' on this side of the law f' three years?" He smiled bitterly.

"Non. 'M done lyin' t' y', Rogue. Ain' caused me notin' but aches in places I t'ought I didn' have no more an' 'm done. Dere ain' notin' I can say t' y' except like y' said y'self back den, I do de wrong tings f' de righ' reasons an' it bites me in de ass later..." His thumb was lightly stroking the back of her hand and she shivered.

"Y' so cold, chere..." he said quietly, and she nodded.

"After Apocalypse... Ah'm always cold." She shrugged and he looked at her intensely, his eyes a deep, bloody crimson.

"I wan'ed t' be dere," he said finally, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Easy ta say when it's all over," she cut back, and he grimaced.

"Hindsigh's always twen'y twen'y chere... I was afraid ta come back an' get turned down at de door." Rogue wrinkled her nose.

"We needed all the help we could get, why'd we turn you away?" she asked, as though she didn't believe a word he was saying. Truth was, she felt nothing but sincerity and regret flowing through the emotional siphoning process of her touching him, and she desperately wanted to believe. Surely he couldn't trick her that way? There was no way he could conjure false emotions for her to suck out of him, she was sure of it. He smiled at her, his eyes burning with self-contempt.

"T'ought y'd wan' me t' stay a million miles away from y', chere. Didn't wan' t' come back an' find out y'd rather I'd stayed gone... I don' know why it mean' so much dat y' didn' hate me but it did. I was shit scared y'd turn me away. Not y' buddies, y'..." She made a 'pysh' noise, blowing that errant strand of white out of her eyes and fixed him with a suspicious look.

"Lahke Ah believe that. The great Remy LeBeau, Prince of Bull, feelin' bad about comin' back here an' facin' the Rogue. Yeah. Raght. An' don' even try an' tell meh y'all would ever faght f' free, that ain' the way you work sugah an' we both know that," she said scornfully, and he winced.

"Dieu, where's de ange who sang t' moi? Alrigh', y' win, dat's who I am, jus' a piece o' shit t'ief from N'Awlins who loves de easy way out more n' anytin' in de worl' an' wouldn' lif' a finger t' help someone in need unless dey could fron' de cash f' my services. Y' happy? Dat's who I am. Dat's all I am. Y' get y' way, chere..." he said, his eyes flashing in time with the waves of resentment and anger she felt coming in through their connection, a tide of bitterness and – sorrow? Rejection? She bit her lip and was about to apologise for being so harsh – she could feel that he had hoped, wanted her to think differently, to have forgiven maybe just a little for the old wrongs done – when he took his hand from hers and broke the line of little pink sparkles.

"'M sorry y' hate m' so much, chere. Y' shouldn' have t' touch m' when y' fel dat way. I'll live," he mumbled, and she grabbed his hand and was almost overcome by the strength of the anger she felt through him, some of it almost seemed to be her own and she was frightened by the intensity of it until she realised some of it was her own. She was angry that things hadn't been different, angry that he hadn't sought her out before, angry that he was angry with himself, angry that he was being poisoned by the abilities he had worked so hard to turn into gifts...

"Y'all gimme back that hand raght now ya damn stupid Cajun! Ah may not be drainin' y' memories but Ah can feel ev'rythang you're feelin' an' Ah wan' ya ta quit it raght now, you hearin' me? You won' live if Ah don' help you an' ta help you Ah gotta touch you an' even if Ah did hate yo' skinny, gumbo-eatin' ass there's no way Ah'd jus' sit back an' let ya blow yaself ta kingdom come! So ya better jus' pack up the pity-party an' live with it because until you're better Ah'm stuck here with you an' that's all there is to it!" she yelled, his eyes growing wider and the shock she felt slam into her from him mingled with a growing relief she wondered if he even wanted her to be able to feel.

"Y' – y' don' hate me?" he asked, his tone that of someone who needs to be completely, utterly certain of something under pain of death.

"Course Ah don' hate you... Y'all never hurt meh, did ya? Y' used meh an' Ah got mad, but you said you were sorry an' ya did what ya did for a good reason. Y' even took pretty good care of meh on that train... Ah never hated you, Remy. Ah was angry that y'all never came back. Ya maght as well have died for all Ah knew. Ah jus thought... the way we parted an' all... that y' maght be comin' back..." she trailed off rather lamely, and he stared at her in complete shock. It reflected in the emotional pull she felt, relief changing to shock changing back to relief. And hope. More hope. Where the hell did he get off dredging up so much hope?! Rogue had no hope, what did he think he was doing hoping for anything? Hope was futile, hope was foolish more than anything else and she wanted to tell him, to kill it. It didn't show in his eyes though. And hope was only dangerous if you could see it in a man's eyes.

"Chere, I wan'ed t' come back t' y', make it righ', but I didn' know how an' I t'ought y' wouldn' wan' 'a see me again. Dat, an' de Wolverine would prob'ly gut me if I came anywhere near y' again. I am so, so sorry, chere... I didn' wan' t' face de rejection... Can y' hones'y say y' would have listened t' me?" She shrugged, pushing her hair out of her face roughly, and it swept in front of her eyes again almost immediately.

"Ah don' know, Ah mean, Ah was mad, sure, but it was a rough tahme, Ah would've gotten over it... If y'all had been there t' help with Apocalypse an' the battle an' all... Ah think Ah would have given y' a second chance ta not be such an ass..." He smiled a little, shifting so he could push her bangs behind her ear. They stayed there and she felt vulnerable without the shield of her hair.

"An' now, chere? Do I get a chance t' prove dat ain' all I am..?" His hand lingered on her face like his words lingered in the air between them and she felt caught, trapped. She'd thought touch was liberating. It had never ocurred to her that it could cage as well as free.

"Dat's if y' can stan' m' skinny gumbo-eatin' ass," he added, a twinkle in his eye, and she reached up and shoved his hand off her cheek.

"Lucky Ah don' have ta look at it, do Ah? Not while you're jus' lyin' roun' here all day..." she said, doing a little twinkling of her own for all her voice was hard, and she felt a thread of longing shooting through his emotions. Likely he was getting tired of lying around all day and wanted to get up for a while.

"Don' have much choice now do I chere? Gotta stay put 'til I ain' a liability no more," he said with a shrug, and she smiled, an idea forming in her head.

"Ah think Ah could find a way ta get you out an' about a little if that's what y'all really wan'," she laughed, and he grinned at her, although he barely had to when she could feel how pleased he was already.

"Don' tink I ever fel' so happy ta be invited out of bed by a belle femme, chere," he teased, and she slapped his arm.

"Don' think Ah'll be doin' y'all any favors if y' can' remember ta treat meh the way ya should, Remy LeBeau," she snapped. He bowed his head and she felt a twinge of regret and – shame? from him.

"Pardonnement, ma chere, ain' used t' bein' round a real lady, y' understand," he said apologetically, reeking of contrition, and she tossed her hair out and huffed.

"Ah don' know t' feel sorry f' you or ta be disgusted, Ah really don', but when y'all are around meh ya best remember your manners," she warned, and he nodded, bending over her hand and brushing it lightly with his lips. It was barely even a touch but she felt it as deeply as it she'd been pierced by a needle.

"Get y' clothes on, Cajun," she said to cover up her embarrassment, jerking her hand away from him and standing up.

"If y'all aren' done in three minutes Ah'm comin' in t' get you an' it won' matter how far y' got, that's how you'll be goin'," she added, and he sat up properly and watched her leave, waiting until she was by the stainless steel door and had her hand on the knob before even moving to lift the covers. She smiled, knowing he knew she was watching him in the polished metal surface.

"Better, Swamp Rat, better," she said softly as she opened the door and closed it behind her to the sound of swishing sheets.