Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or the X-men. Beth remains mine. Please do not use her without permission.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rogue ripped the page out of her diary, neatly folded it in quarters and slid it under the door. She jumped back in surprise as an alarm went off inside the house. Quickly she put her pen and diary back into her bag and hurried back into the street.
The noise had already gathered a small crowd, and she began to run.
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"Can I get you anything else?" inquired the airhostess, setting a small bottle of bourbon and a glass in front of him.
"No 'tanks," he answered, leaning back in his seat. "Dis be fine."
As he opened the bottle and gulped some down he told himself to relax.
It had been five years, and he was about to see his Rogue again. Just to be near her would be enough. He slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the delicate, rustling material that he always kept close. They had a lot to catch up on. A lot of running to make up for.
He looked out the window, seeing the wing of the plane he remembered how Beth had said she would like to be outside sitting on it. He could imagine that she would enjoy that. She had always liked heights, for some reason. Her black, curly hair would be blowing in the wind, her bright eyes laughing at him. But Rogue would look even better, with mounds of reddish hair, and that streak of white, perched on the tip of the wing. She would look at him seriously, without girlish joy, but with a serene, mature knowledge. She would understand, better than Beth, that she could fall…His little p'tite didn't know about falling quite yet. Time would teach her, though. Time did that. He sipped the bourbon.
And time would teach you how to pick yourself up.
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Rogue leaned back into a tub of scented water. There was soft music playing in the background and the bathroom was surrounded by candles.
She was glad that the professor had given her a credit card with a heavenly limit. It was nice to have the best.
The remains of a gorgeous dinner were spread out on a silky tablecloth in front of a window that gave the view to the best of New Orleans.
She flicked a rose petal away from her ear and drooped her hand over the side of the tub. As she listened to the music and relaxed she realized that she was falling asleep, and the water was getting cold. Not that cold mattered that much to her. While having Carol Danvers' powers she had been completely immune to the weather, but with the controlling of her powers she had managed to lock all the voices inside her head away…and most of the powers.
Occasionally she noticed that she healed at a slightly accelerated rate, probably a courtesy of Wolverine, and from time to time she managed to lift weights, run and fight with an elegant velocity not granted to most people. But she still missed being able to fly, and destroy anything that she ever wanted to destroy.
But she had realized that those days were over. The Remy days, the Brotherhood days…maybe even the X-men days. She sighed and got up, wrapping a robe around herself as she dried her hair and body quickly, slipping in to a pair of fluffy slippers to pad over to her suitcase.
She dressed in comfortable jeans and a shirt with worn sneakers and quickly tied her hair in a ponytail, letting a strand of white escape to frame her face.
There was going to be a fare in the park and she wanted to see what it was like. Someone said they would be selling books, and that there was a Ferris wheel. Tucking her wallet into her back pocket she tucked the flap down securely. She had lived quite a long while in a house with two skilled thieves, and besides having to thwart their mischievous attempts at pick-pocketing she had also learnt that they were everywhere, especially in the evening. Especially in New Orleans.
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His watch started to beep quietly. He glanced down at it and noticed the Trespasser Alert alarm had been disrupted in his home. Quickly he took a mini-computer out of his pocket and opened it up, typing in a few codes, before getting a view of the house.
The cameras that had been skillfully installed showed him a crowd of people gathering around when the alarm went off, and…yes, a streak of white hair disappeared into them.
He was about to check the camera's record for previous scenes when the plane hit some turbulence and the computer closed down.
Sighing, he tucked it back in his pocket. Well, Rogue was in New Orleans. They were, after a mighty five years, finally going to see each other.
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"Deux," she told the man at the ticket booth, and watched the little boy's eyes light up as she handed him the ticket.
This was probably what Remy had looked like when he was young. Poor, tired, hungry, and hopeful.
The little boy nodded his thanks, then disappeared into the crowd that was lining up for the Ferris wheel.
Suddenly she felt the entire world whirl round, and she clasped her chest, falling to the ground as nausea and panic rose up in her. Everything around her had been multiplied by two, and she couldn't seem to work out which way was up and which was down.
She managed to crawl over to a bench and phone a cab on her cell, keeping her feet on the ground and her head between her nice until it finally arrived.
She quickly stammered the directions to the hotel in broken French, and huddled in the back seat until they arrived.
She had been poisoned. She was sure of it. Her head whirled again and she clutched the plastic seat, then looked up at the cabbie's inquiring glance.
In her best French, she managed to ask for him to drive her to a motel. Somewhere reasonably cheap and nondescript. The driver nodded and took off into the night, with a suffering Rogue curled up in the corner.
He had to stop once so that she could throw up, and offered to take her to the hospital, but she just lied and said that she had had too much to drink, and pretended to act tipsy. How was she supposed to explain that a mutant hater, or else mutant villain had tried to kill her, and that she, being a mutant, was fighting off the effects? No, her French wasn't up to that. Fishing out a note she waved it in front of the driver's nose and ordered, once again, that he take her to a motel.
He shook his head slightly, then once again took off.
As she had requested, the motel was small, nondescript, quite cheap and had no room service.
But it had a bed and a bathroom, and that was all that she needed.
Finally, at three in the morning her illness had stopped, and she managed to creep into bed and pull the covers up over her head.
She awoke several hours later when the sun shone through the curtains.
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A.N: I know, this was pretty short and senseless. A longer chapter tomorrow. I just finished watching the movie "Paycheck" and so my mind took on a bit of a different style…well, my muse encouraged me to write this, so blame it not me. Lots of thanks to:
WolvieFanSpell, AmberTears, IvyZoe, Herszel, BlkDiamond, Mystical Sand, Roguefan, Lumberjane, 4Rogue and Harley Quinn D for being generous and honest reviewers. IvyZoe in especial, for pointing out that it DOESN'T snow in New Orleans and that I had been swerving off of the Romy track. Much appreciated. This chapter goes to you. (I sooo hope that I didn't miss anybody, or misspell a name.)
-Truest Tears-