Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made by this work.
Waking in a strange bed, for the first few moments of consciousness Rogue looked around to see pictures of people she didn't know hung on the walls and sitting on the dresser. The sheets were warm and inviting, far from anything she had ever known since the day she had done the only thing she could and run away from the pain and everything that made up her shattered life. Slowly the evening past came back to her, dragged along to a party with her energetic friend she had made only to encounter another who had treated her to some drinking and dancing far above any of the field parties she had snuck out to in her old life.
Looking at the clock, it read just a quarter after eight and thinking of how late she had been up that was only a measly five hours of sleep. Yet here she was wide and awake and oddly energetic herself ready to face the day. Getting out of bed and exploring around found an en suite bath that was as big as her room back home, slipping out of the little clothes she wore to enjoy an invigorating shower. Stepping out on the heated tiled floor and staring at the vanity, she thought she felt just how Julia Roberts felt even if it was just for one night.
Wrapped up in a terrycloth robe, she wandered about the room snooping and wondering just when it would be a fine time to head downstairs and look for everyone. She'd never been at such a party before let alone spent a night in a house such as this, flopping down on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. As she laid there, though slowly at first she could hear just what was going on in the rest of the household. Outside it sounded like some hired help cleaning up after the party by the sounds of it, young men full of bluster making their own stories of everything that had happened last night.
Listening closer she thought she could hear the sound of a bath being drawn somewhere with quiet chatter drowned out by the splashing water. Breathing in she could smell coffee brewing, whatever it was it smell rich and bold with the sort of hiss and such she recalled from the couple of coffee houses she had visited. The knock at her door startled her more that she hadn't heard anyone approach, though a sniff had her know it was Remy just by that fragrance that wafted off him so pleasantly.
"It's open." Rogue called, still exploring the house through just her sense of hearing and the scents that filled it.
He came in with her clothes freshly laundered and looked as if he might have done the same for his own, not looking like some vagabond who had crashed at a strangers house only the night before. Left alone with him she started to wonder about him, wonder just who this Remy LeBeau was that had intrigued her last night in a way she thought a man shouldn't be interested in a girl only a few months shy of her seventeenth birthday. With Jubilee it seemed innocent enough, someone keeping an eye out for a girl who needed it, but her herself she had to wonder.
"Thank you." Rogue said as he laid the clothes down on the bed.
"De rein, a lady shouldn't have to wear sullied clothes." Remy waved off, finding his way over to a chair and calling into it like a cat lazing about.
"Can I ask you a question?" Rogue inquired, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with a hand.
"Of course." Remy said with a smile.
"How old are you?" Rogue asked, the question preying on her ever since she caught the hints of more than friendly advances last night that left her lying in his arms.
"Rembrandt Laurence or Remy LeBeau?" Remy asked with a teasing smirk.
"Both." Rogue laughed, wondering again how a man so easily made himself a new name.
"Well, Mister Laurence be just twenty two, of course the N'awlin's boy Remy just be eighteen but then that be leaving me bothered in de bars work takes me to." Remy remarked.
Hardly more than a year older than her Rogue thought, a blush flushing her cheeks at the thought that this man was just so. Yet staring into his eyes, those marvellous red on black eyes she saw whenever he let his sunglasses slip low, they felt older than the eighteen years he claimed. An old soul undoubtedly, a gentleman surely, and a rogue just like the name she had chosen for herself. That he was from the south filled her with a longing, a reminder from home of all the things she missed.
"Thank you." Rogue said softly, breathing deeply of his scent never tiring of its spicy aroma.
"Maybe sometime we can get something to eat, get to know another a little better. But for now alas, I leave you to get dressed as I have to go make breakfast. The price to be paid for the accommodations." Remy chuckled, walking off to the door looking reluctant though for some reason she could tell he was looking forward to it.
"You cook?" Rogue asked as he paused in the doorway.
"Oui, my Pappa, out of everything he taught me he stressed that there be things a man should know how to do. Many of them I cannot say in the presence of a lady, though I am sure she would enjoy them just as much, but cooking be among them." Remy purred with a flirtatious smile.
Feeling suddenly flustered as her imagination started working along the lines of everything she would like to do to him to work up an appetite, she watched as the door closed and struggle though she might she couldn't hear tread nor step of his passage down the hall. Thinking of all that feline grace and everything else, she was glad she had some time to gather herself before next meeting him as she didn't know how well composed she would have been without it.
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With as many aliases he used and let alone the enemies he had made over the years, waking up to find himself in a hospital room listening to a monitor parrot the beating of his heart, Victor Creed was to say the least a little puzzled. The man paying him for his services this time around was sitting off with a cup of coffee that clearly hadn't been found in the hospital cafeteria, a single sniff could tell him that much. At the same time the meaty aroma of a double cheeseburger with bacon, back bacon and tabasco sauce had his stomach growling just about as much as he was.
"Ah, I see you're awake." Erik remarked, throwing the bag over.
It didn't matter that it was cold, it satisfied his hunger and gave him everything he needed that the tubes and drips couldn't, a shot of protein and delicious flame kissed beef and bacon. Catching the date on a cast off newspaper, he cracked his neck and had to admit that the little spitfire had earned her stripes. The plan had worked without a hitch, even if he had to play dead for it like some show dog. Another bag was thrown at him, rummaging through it to find a few tallboys of Canadian and pounding them back. Were the nurses in this dump to see him they'd probably faint before they had a chance to get their panties in a wad.
"So what's the news?" Victor asked of Erik.
"Everything is going to plan, the disciples of Xavier's are going off after Miss Dane while we are free to capture the prize." Erik said with the pleasure of a good gambit paying off wafting off him.
That had been the whole reason why he'd been involved in a simple snatch and grab, given that everything Erik knew on the girl painted her as the perfect target. It hadn't all gone to plan but as they said, no plan ever survives contact with the enemy. That these so-called X-men were after Lorna Dane proved that much, but then again that was what telepathic suggestions were for. Waking up after dying had been enough to trigger the switch that gave him back everything that had been tucked away safely.
"She's now perfect for my needs, but to be sure to lead Charles off the scent I've sent Raven and Mortimer off to hunt down Miss Dane. Your job will now be to track her down and supply Miss D'Ancanto to me in New York, I've already put the hounds on her trail but you can feel free to go and hunt her yourself while you recover." Erik explained.
A girl that would suck the life right out of you and if you happened to be a mutant could gain your power at the cost of taking your life. It had been the whole reason he was chosen, the way to keep the blood from the hand's of the self professed Saviour of Mutantkind. Give the pup his healing factor and she'd survive the whole thing, course things had gone wrong. Mystique was supposed to grab the disorientated girl after soaking up all too much of him and his long history. The fact that Erik was here said that much.
"Just what're ya ready to condone?" Victor asked.
It wasn't often he had to ask those sort of questions to the people that hired him, usually his reputation spoke for himself as to what they expected. But Erik was different, he was one of those dangerous men who 'believed' in something and as history attested belief was a damned scarey thing. Scarey enough to keep him in line and get the job over with, especially when the man before him had the ink on his arm to tell just the horrors he had survived.
"I would ask for restraint, but that you do what you must to get her to me." Erik said after a long pause where he rallied his thoughts.
"Well, if everything ya tell me is true, she's got a whole mess o' me up in her head so that means things are gonna get interesting." Victor chuckled, cracking open another Canadian for a thirsty gulp.
"May you live in interesting times." Erik intoned, finishing his coffee before crumpling the cup.
Victor chuckled, he'd been around that whole mess of history when that saying had been tossed around as a Chinese Curse. A better part of a century later he wondered just what the men would have thought of the times they lived in and just how truly interesting they were as he finished his last beer.
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Author's Note : Just a shortie to get the ball rolling again.
Piratearrow I hope that gives you what you were looking for, I was pretty much planning on setting the record straight this chapter anyhoo :) Jubilee herself is thirteen just like in the comics she debuted in.
Thanks all and I hope you enjoyed! I hope to get more out soon, as I got some fun ideas of playing with the first X-men movie cannon and twisting it to this story :)
Toodles!