Thanks to all my lovely reviewers!
explodingcards (thanks and I am trying!), Bellasaurs (they are very brooding, aren't they? And good song, sequel material), vintage demigoddess, X-Storm (oh don't apologize!), lonelyeyedgrrl, LavenderFairy17, vinh, kipper503, lovestoread, ShadowFax999 (I love it! You wrote as you read!), Delphine, Wiccamage, Rogue181, coldqueen, fairy-princess7, animefan135, ishandahalf (glad to help!), TheLetter5 (Wow, I love your description, but you nailed my idea straight on the head!), dreamschemer, mazdamiatta, deadsnowwhite, allyg1990, cream tea anyone (BIG –blush-).
Shout-outs!
Roguerulez: a sequel is planned – have two other viable ideas: a humorous one-shoot based off a line from Freelancer's Bad Boys fic: "If I ever figure out some way to get around this no-touching thing, the first thing I'm gonna do is pull Remy LeBeau into a closet" and a cute romp through the Big Easy when Rogue's like ten – neither angst.
WisenedReader – :(. Sorry, I really love music – it expresses something unique, just like poetry. I have no intention of taking the past lyrics out and I'm sorry you find it a 'cheap gimmick.' I do agree that often it's misused and perhaps I've gone overboard. However, I will note that future chapters will not have lyrics.
Wiccamage: "He finally laid his cards down huh? Made the ultimate commitment to give his soul, his life, his entire SELF to Rogue just to save her from losing hers. It's like a mutant version of Romeo and Juliet, but hopefully without the horribly sad ending..." That's a really interesting connection – except I always hated that play. It has the instant-love-and-devotion plot device I hate and yes I hate the ending too!
Best quote: Chica De Los Ojos Café! (I love to do this – match the form with the psychological content)
"Romy is like a recipe add some hate, mix in some attraction, a dab of sexual frustration, two broken hearts, mistrust, some scary hateful glances, a touch of uncontrollable powers, and a seemingly undesirable but so earth-shattering a love and you've got yourself some good ole fashioned Romy."
To Selina, you had so many comments, but weren't signed in, so I saved my response for the bottom!
Here we go! Enter – the villain. Lyrics by Brand New, "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" as recommended!
It Takes Two…to Practice
18) No damsel in distress –
If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand.
I hope you find out what you want.
I already know what I am.
And if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again.
And you can tell me how vile I already know that I am.
I'll grow old and start acting my age.
I'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate.
A crown of gold.
A heart that's harder than stone.
And it hurts a whole lot, but it's missed when it's gone.
"What the hell happened?" Scott demanded angrily. His arms were rigid, braced against the table, as he was too tense to sit. The rest of the older half of the mansion were arranged around the conference table.
Hank cleaned his glasses before answering. "The best I can deduce is that Gambit lost control of his kinetic abilities. Apparently they surged, in that not only items he was directly touching or in his direct vicinity were charged, but also the extent of the viewing window and the first few layers of the floor, ceiling, and walls. They exploded outward, but thankfully due to the contained space of the MedLab, only did minimal damage." Despite being in the explosion himself, he looked remarkably untouched, but the smell of burnt leg fur remained on him.
"Minimal damage?" Disbelief colored Scott's voice.
Hank ticked off the damage mechanically. "The viewing window extension was completely demolished, impacting the wall from across the way. The interior of the room has been fairly carved up, but the sheer thickness of the walls and ceiling resulted in little structural damage. Gambit was lucky; he has only suffered some abrasions and shrapnel from the hospital bed he was lying on, which I have since removed. The sheer amount of energy however, exhausted him and he's currently unconscious, or so I must assume as I failed to find any sizable lumps on his cranium. Rogue-"
"Rogue; she was hurt?" Scott immediately tensed further, the others in room reacting accordingly.
"She had just gotten out of bed – if I'm not mistaken, she somehow knew, or perhaps sensed is the better word, what was about to happen. She was trying to get to Gambit, but I was able to pull us both back into the safety of her room before the explosion. She was merely knocked unconscious. She's still resting."
Scott relaxed and nodded. Kitty and Kurt however exchanged worried glances. Kitty bit her lip.
"You were saying you believe he lost control?" Xavier asked.
Hank nodded. "Gambit has shown the capacity for large-scale kinetic excitation, but it seems unlikely he would attempt so in his current shape or location. His overuse of his empathetic gifts could've triggered a similar reaction in his kinetic, but honestly I would've assumed the very opposite."
There was a musing nod from Xavier.
"Is it possible this is a maturation of his mutation?"
Hank cocked his head thoughtfully. "It's possible – for him to charge from a distance, brought on by stress, but it is a rather late development if so. Gambit's abilities seemed to have developed rather early, much like Kurt's with an obvious physical component. But it is a plausible hypothesis."
"Not exactly." All heads turned to face the doorway.
"Rogue?" She leaned heavily against the doorframe, looked exhausted with dark smears under both eyes. But her face had the determined look they had all knew intimately.
"You shouldn't be out of bed-" Hank rose from his chair, but Kitty was faster and Rogue gratefully sank into the offered chair, still visibly pale even for herself.
"This has happened before," she spoke before any further protest could be voiced. Kitty hovered at her back.
"When?" Scott's mouth tweaked, but he allowed the subject re-direction.
She shrugged evasively. "He started to charge things all 'round him, couldn't control it."
"So what happened?" Hank asked with a frown, his mind already sorting through the status tests he'd grown through with Gambit. "He obviously didn't retain the ability."
"He said he got someone to fix him up. A doctor," she added, fingers gingerly pushing at her temples.
"A doctor?" Xavier and Hank exchanged a look. "What kind of doctor?"
"He didn't say." She massaged her temples.
"Say?" Scott finally questioned. "You two talked about this?"
She bristled. "Weh we'e talkin' 'bout powers. An' yeah, he shared this. Y' got a problem wit' it?" her voice inflection changed and he frowned, but shook his head.
"Well, obviously it didn't completely work," Kitty chimed in worriedly, "if it like, happened again."
Rogue's look turned grim. "Yeah – an' Remy knows it."
"He woke up?" Hank blinked, not expecting such a quick recovery. Otherwise, he'd have used the intercom for the meeting, rather than leaving the MedLab.
Rogue gave a harsh laugh. "Did more than that," she gave a vague wave. "The fox flew the coop."
"What?" Scott snapped.
"He took off."
"He's not in a good condition to do so. Especially if-" Hank caught himself.
"I suppose our next course of action is obvious," Xavier said, steepling his hands.
Scott read his intent and scowled, crossing his arms. Gambit was turning into quite a problem. "And where are we even supposed to start looking?"
"Where else do you look for a Cajun thief?" Rogue asked rhetorically.
La Belle Orléans.
His presence hummed along the lines of her skin, twisting and turning, still elusive to her mind full of questions.
She was hesitant to press, to wring those answers from his psyche. She hadn't wanted to learn his secrets this way. In a world where a single touch could unlock the deepest, darkest corners of another's soul, to learn by voluntary admission was a novelty. A treasure.
The thief in her twisted within her at the thought and she had to turn her mind's eye from the haphazard mess of images of the treasures he had fingered over the years.
A prideful thief. What was she to him?
Except she'd felt the taste of him, seeping in even as he extended his own composure into her. The bitterness of his despair, the acrid tang of fear, and the full, colored, jagged spice of his unsatisfied longing.
She shuddered in remembrance, even as the psyche within her pulsated in sympathy. She pushed it away, staring into the dark night.
Remy's psyche was far deeper than previously. It had tormented her before, once she'd taken leave of Remy. His absence every night made the psyche within her restless, haunting her dreams with half-memories, half-fantasies. Her in lace, in leather, in silk, in catholic school uniform, in her bedroom, in his, in the Danger Room, against the wall of her school (this time her lipstick smeared more than his lips…), in more positions and ways than anything she'd previously contemplated. His desire played in the echoes of her subconscious, throwing out jarring images whenever she ceased to be vigilant.
And then she'd returned to him, dressed in the garb of his fantasy and the psyche had given her peace – only to be replaced by Logan's loathing, Kurt's disgust, Kitty's concern, and the other tumultuous emotions of those involuntarily absorbed. Creed had merely been the final straw.
Creed.
Blond hair fluttering –
"Which will it be little thief?"
He cursed the monster for the choice, himself for leaving Genny's side, for stealing the pendant to officially earn the right to his own family, the Guild, the one she'd rightfully stolen, the one for which he'd lied and lied for –
She screamed and dropped far, far down. He laughed.
She was bleeding, so much fucking blood, but still she smiled when he finally reached her side. "Je t'aime mon cher, the pendant ce ton etait." (I love you my dear, the pendant, it was yours.)
And he cursed with tears not loving her.
And he laughed.
She shuddered again, desperately trying to shut off both psyches. They sloshed within her and she felt sick.
"You okay Stripes?" Logan's gruff voice interrupted her, the man who knew too much.
"Fine." She avoided his eyes, instead choosing to stare out the window, just beginning to see the bright lights of the Big Easy flushing the underside of the night.
Logan had commandeered the mission as soon as Rogue had made it clear she was indispensible, considering she had the all-access pass to Gambit's memories. Scott was technically in charge of the mission; after hearing Rogue's insistence, Kitty and Kurt had badgered Scott into joining as well. Neither felt comfortable letting her follow an unstable Gambit without them. Kurt, in particular, seemed to be viewing this as a way to reinstate his 'brother' status and reconcile.
Xavier had reluctantly agreed to the additions, the fact it was a weekend working in their favor. He'd put his foot down for Ororo had wanted to come along. She, Piotr and Jean would be needed to maintain an adult presence at the mansion. Rogue had been surprised at Ororo's request, she hadn't realized she and Remy got along, but Storm had taken her hand firmly and wished good luck, hoping she'd find Remy in one piece.
Honestly though, the insinuation made Rogue more than a little uneasy. She would find Remy – and he would be fine. He had to be.
She shook herself and flipped on the cockpit lights as Logan began to prepare for landing.
"We're here." Given the time of night, the rest of the crew had opted to catnap and they slowly came to. Rogue had remained awake. This was no time to be at the mercy of her subconscious.
Ignoring the worried eyes on her, she unsnapped her seatbelt and was the first off the plane.
Feeling Remy stir within her as she breathed the New Orleans air in deeply, she muttered, "Home sweet home."
It was all so familiar.
The scent of perfume, spicy late-night frying, and sweat tantalizing the nose.
The tang of salt and smoke tangling with the tongue.
The clink of jewelry, raucous laughter from open doorways, the jingle of zydeco music piping out of the corners of windows winding its way through the streets.
The musty, humid sky pressing on the skin.
She felt – like it was home.
Except it wasn't, not for her at least. It was all fake, the expansion of the psyche within her's reminiscence. She didn't actually know or had experienced any of this before – the fire of a spicy crawfish, the thrilling inhale of smoke, dancing to a zydeco beat. It was her first time here, yet it felt like slipping on an old familiar glove, the sight of a childhood friend's face, the smell of a finished baking home-cooked meal. A passionate, yet faux response. The comparison to Remy was unnerving and she shied away from it.
And yet…
She knew Remy, knew him from more than the scattered ragtag of memories. She knew he loved Mardi Gras, spicy cooking, the warmth of his belle ville. (beautiful city) She knew that because, because he had let her know him.
And so she allowed his psyche to unfurl within her, reveling in the lavish feast for her senses and letting it tug her gently through the path to where she knew she'd find his family. And hopefully the key to his location.
Logan, watching her, felt a half-shudder as her movements became even more fluid, slipping through the crowd with an ease that was all too-familiar, lacking the aversion he knew Rogue had to invasions of personal space. His lips compressed. They better find that damned Cajun fast.
She knew the place as soon as she saw it; thick smooth walls almost a pale purple in reflected light. A lone lantern dangled beside the small neon sign, a compromise between tradition and modernity. A pole held up a balcony and she could remember hanging up there, legs in the empty spaces, snickering at the crowds of tourists wit'- she cut off the thought, recognizing the push as Remy's own nostalgia.
"This is the place," she announced, drawing her small crowd to the side of the building. She looked them over. Due to the nature of their search, they had their uniforms on under normal clothes, but they still stuck out like sore thumbs: Kitty's preppiness, Kurt's vaguely urban looseness, Scott's rigidness. Rogue had been strategic with a flattering purple long tied top with pointed tips and sleeves, over nice black pants. Her hair was up, arrayed to let the brunette camouflage the streak, and pale cloth gloves covered her hands.
"Yah need to stay outside."
"Why?" Scott's arms folded over his chest and he kept up his suspicious scanning of the crowd.
"Y' too conspicuous," she said with a frown, trying to ignore Kitty's cringe. "Behsides, weh can't all go in."
"I'm going vith you," Kurt insisted stubbornly before Scott could argue. Rogue reluctantly nodded, sensing a fight she could not win.
"Can y' change de image tah more low-key?" Kurt's face resolved and his hand went to his disguise watch as he angled himself behind them.
"I'm goin' in too Stripes."
She glanced at Logan, biker leather. "Yeah, guessed that. Jus' don't stay too close."
He snorted. "I ain't an amateur."
Scott's frown remained, but he agreed. "Fine, but if anything goes down-"
Rogue tapped her ear. "-y'll be the firs' ta know."
Rogue went in first, hesitating only a moment in the doorway to scan the place. Russet hair caught her eye and her heart twisted, before she meandered to the bar.
She'd counted on him being there.
She settled at the bar leaving two seats space, not glancing at him, instead gesturing to the bartender. Swiveling as she waited, she saw Kurt, now in a layered wife beater and darker overshirt complimented by darker features, and Logan enter in succession, heading easily for different parts of the room. Logan headed to the end of the bar and she felt a surge of gratitude for his backup.
"What's a gal gotta do ta get a drink 'round here?" she said, with just enough projection to hit the other man's ear. The bartender, a strapping, older man lacking the grizzle of Logan, eased to her side.
"Not dat much," he replied with good humor. "What's y' poison?"
"Scarlett O'Hara," she said, a hint of her own nostalgia making her voice waver just a bit. But she looked away, letting her eye settle on her target. He looked good, winking to a redhead in the corner as his fingers drummed a tune on the countertop. His chin bristled with a decent goatee, sharp features dancing with a subtle amusement she could detect, an undercurrent of humor. Emil.
She let her eyes flutter shut, planning exactly how to work this, letting Remy surface. The rush of affection was unmistakable but – brothercousinbrothercousinbrocousincousinbro – under the bar table she tensed a fist. Bro or cousin, make up yah mind!
Lapin.
The thump of her drink brought her back to awareness and she took it in hand, before shooting the bartender a hopeful look.
"Any chance y' seen a Cajun homme," she asked casually, "'bout six feet, gorgeous eyes, real looker, goes by Remy?" Last minute she decided on Remy instead of Gambit. Gambit was for work – and that wasn't what she wanted to portray.
The bartender was good. There was no reaction, just a firm head-shake. "Nope."
She gave a sizable sigh and within a minute, the bait was snatched up as Emil slid over into the chair next to her.
"Too bad fille," he crooned."Maybe anot'er beau Cajun would do?"
"An' what would that beau Cajun's name be?" she returned coyly, letting a finger trail around the top of her drink.
"Emil." He grinned a toothy smile at her and her lips twisted.
"Wouldn't happen t' be Emil Lapin, would it?" she paused as his form tensed, though the smile remained. "Perhaps we might be able ta get a booth, have a nice chat?"
His eyes were wary, but he nodded before reflexively looking over his shoulder. And Remy had way too many memories of the exact 'uh-oh' look his face morphed into. Under his breath, he hissed out a curse.
She turned.
Blond flashed into her line of sight and Remy pitched forward so suddenly, she was completely overwhelmed – feeling the static of the charge that always laced him, the dimness adjusting to his sight, the avalanche of thoughts and memories – Belladonna. He lurched back just as suddenly, leaving her to desperately grip the jagged wood of the bar edge shakily.
Coward, she thought.
She didn't move as the woman reached them, Emil pasting on a bright grin, trying to step in front of Rogue. She was a vision of a deep blue dress that made the most of her cleavage and perfect figure.
"Ah the belle donna! What brings yah t'-"
Belladonna ignored him, her eyes on Rogue, a humorless, sharky grin stretching over her lips.
"Now what are y' doin' here, li'l X-Men? Rather far from y' home, hein?" Pale blue eyes flicked down Rogue's outfit before touching on her hair. At Rogue's side, Emil infinitesimally stiffened. So he hadn't realized…
"Not 'xactly," Rogue drawled back.
"Oh," a perfectly manicured hand came up to cover Bella's moue as her eyes snapped to Rogue's covered hands. "Dat's right, y' be de Southe'n, de fille who can't touch wit' dat deadly skin, Rascal, non," she snapped her fingers, "Tramp."
"Rogue," gritted teeth were echoed by narrowed eyes. "An' ain't dat be a tad hypocritical coming from the 'ssassin fille?"
"Princess," Belladonna corrected with a smirk, "princess for a prince."
Rogue bared her teeth. "Guess I jus' stole yahr crown then." She felt the memory of his touch still impressed on her skin.
Bella's complexion hardened into a sneer. "Oh, please petite, y' t'ink y'r anymore den a novel toy tah Remy wit' dose powers? I know hi-"
Maybe she expected Rogue to actually wait for her to finish her sentence. Maybe she was too focused on sneering in Rogue's face. Maybe she just thought Rogue wouldn't have the guts to do it.
But Rogue had heard that exact taunt in her head one too many times to stand it coming from – de firs' fille I eva loved –
Rogue's right fist caught her completely unprepared, impacting on that pure perfect porcelain skin, and sending Belladonna sprawling.
Reflexes kicked in and the knife that flashed in the blonde's hand was only detoured from Rogue's heart by Logan's swift grab of her arm. Bella hissed, hatred causing her eyes to darken, but didn't try to move as three adamantium claws extended within inches of her throat.
"Rogue-" Logan warned, but she ignored him, focusing only on the downed blond.
"For yaur information, ah know Remy too." She flicked her fingers tauntingly. "In a way y' can't compare. An' 'fore y' get pissy, he ain't here, ah jus' wanted tah meet his family."
Lapin's hand caught her elbow and he rushed out an insincere apology before hurrying her away. Logan warily released the assassin, keeping his claws out before following them.
Kurt met them at the door. "Who was zat?"
"Ex-fiancé," Rogue bit out.
"Ex-fi- who ze hell would agree to marry Gambit?"
She glared for no good reason and didn't reply, but Lapin broke in anyway the next second, swiveling on her as soon as they cleared the entrance of the club.
"What de hell are y' doin' here?" His eyes flicked over to Scott and Kitty as they immediately emerged from the shadows.
"Gambit went missing," Scott said, immediately taking command.
Emil's grip on Rogue loosened as confusion colored his features. He chanced a look at Rogue. "Well he ain't here, alors pas." (course not)
Scott's eyes flicked between the two. "Why are you so confident?"
"Don't de fille know?"
Kurt focused on the more immediate matter.
"Vhy are ve here if Gambit iz not?"
"We're here to find out where he is," her eyes flew back to Emil, whose hands flew up.
"Oh, je ne sais pas où-" (I don't know where-)
"You were there the firs' time he lost control, cousin." The abruptness struck Emil like a blow to solar plexus and the color leeched from his face. It wasn't a question, but that was answer enough. "He didn't know where to go, what ta do – exile hangin' over his head-"
"Exile?" Kitty and Scott chorused in unison, but Rogue ignored them.
"-so yah helped him. Y' good wit' computers." Her inflection changed again and something shifted in Emil's face. Slowly he nodded as if mesmerized. "Yah helped him find him-"
"Sinister," he whispered.
There was a moment of silence before Kitty let out a nervous laugh and hugged herself. "Great, that's not ominous at all."
"Sinister?" Scott repeated.
Emil blinked, his face shuttering again.
"Where cin we find him?"
"He ain't de type y' go lookin' for," he hedged. "Y' be best leavin' him alone-"
Rogue took a step closer to him, eyes looking with his despite his attempts to evade. "Remy lost control again an' we don't know why. He took off – an' he needs tah be found. Tu me comprends?" (You understand me?)
He looked around at the assorted group, the concern, the determination, and seemed to fold before them. He finally sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"Name's Nathaniel Essex, big-time mutant genetist. Mutant hisself too. Not de safest homme to be 'round, mais…"
Rogue could still taste Remy's terror, spiderwebbing at the very nerves of her senses. She nodded.
"Where's he located?"
Emil sighed again, but his eyes were distant, already figuring out how to access what he would need.
"Don't got de info on meh. Gonna have tah follow me." In a show of trust, he turned and starting heading down the street. Rogue started to follow when Scott's hand grasped her arm.
"Rogue-" But she cut him off.
"Better do as the man says," and she slipped away after the thief slinking into shadows.
Rogue shifted uneasily. Emil had disappeared into one of the rooms of the mansion he'd brought them to, busy with hardware he preferred they not view. Uneasy quiet had descended on the group, long after she'd finally been cornered and forced to reveal some of the sketchy circumstances behind Remy's exile. She'd glossed over Belladonna, just that he'd lost control and they'd exiled him in fear. The deaths – it was hardly her place to inform them of that she told herself.
Scott had asked why she couldn't just bring them to this Essex figure – she was almost darkly amused at the fact Scott refused to call him Sinister, after all the other strange characters they'd faced. She'd put him off though with the fact she couldn't just pull up any information she wanted at the drop of a hat. Memories could be hard to access and it was possible Sinister had moved since Gambit's last interaction with him, something Gambit could receive updated information on through connections.
It had placated him, but Logan had watched her with slit-eyes and she knew her evasion was clear to him. But he didn't call her on it – and for the first time in a long while, she appreciated that.
Actually, Remy's psyche was actively resisting any of her attempts to learn of Sinister. Every time she tried his mind went into a whirlwind of contrary memory flashes, thoughts and emotions. All she could clearly discern was an overpowering sense of dread.
Remy didn't want her anywhere near Sinister.
And though the idea of him as protective made something in her expand to the point of pain, the fact he was currently associated with him and had just thrown himself in the mouth of the beast made the pain fire knifed.
Lost in her thoughts, she completely missed the front door open.
"Who are y'all?" Shrewd brown eyes took in the group sprawled around and a hand reflexively came to rest by his jacket. Logan immediately tensed, but Rogue quickly stepped forward, the reaction of Remy within unable to be confused.
"Yah must be Henri, Remy's frère," she said casually, struggling against the flood of emotion that urged her to almost reach out and hug him. It had been a long time since Remy had been in his brother's presence. Her eyes instead settled on his almost-handlebar mustache. "An' what is it 'bout facial hai' an' the LeBeaus?"
Henri's hand drifted down from the waist of his leather jacket, but he didn't smile in return. "Y' know me, mais I still don't know y'."
Rogue stuck out her hand, stretching her lips into a grin. "Rogue of de X-Men." Henri's face cleared and he re-examined them, obviously matching names and faces. No family as organized as the LeBeaus would fail to keep tabs on an errant member and she was glad the fact once again eased their way.
He shook her hand, taking in the gloves without a word. "Thought de X-Men stayed north?" he asked warily after the rest of the introductions were completed.
Scott had to clarify. "We go where we're needed and with Gambit missing, we felt it necessary to come to you."
Henri's face betrayed no shock. "Gambit missing? Don' sound like a real mystère t' moi. Long trip f' just dat."
"It is afta he loses control." Henri's head jerked and Rogue knew he hadn't expected that – but before he could ask more questions, Emil finally reappeared, holding a sheet of paper before him. Distracted, he didn't even look up.
"I got a place dat I'm like 85 percent sure dat he be, mais Essex got lots everywhe-" It was at that moment Lapin finally registered the extra person in the room and wavered, before grinning like a caught Cajun with his hand in the panty drawer. "Eh Henri-"
"I see y' already got help," Henri said smoothly.
Emil straightened. "C'est pour Remy." (It's for Remy) Their eyes met and something akin to understanding passed between them. Rogue felt her stomach twist at the obvious show of devotion and looked away as Henri gestured they needed to talk.
They walked out of earshot, even that of Logan's (Emil was obviously well-informed), and silence descended again, though Rogue caught all of them at least once sneaking a look at Remy's 'brother.' She wondered if they knew it was an adopted relation – and was struck again at the fact he allowed her to know him. How had she not realized the privilege?
She missed Henri's entrance again.
"Glad we cin help," Rogue looked up and Scott nodded, returning to leader mode.
"We appreciate your cooperation-"
"Un condition," Henri interrupted. Emil grinned behind him and Rogue had a sinking feeling she knew what it was. "Emil goes wit'."
Scott frowned. "No offense, but considering the danger-"
"He be no mutant, mais a t'ief always know how t' take care o' hisself. Ain't gotta worry y'self."
Scott still hesitated, but Logan snorted. "Long as you don't come whining to us if he gets a limb blown off."
Rogue had to give him credit, the smile never faltered on Emil's face, even as Scott shot Logan an irritated look. "Fine. I guess having someone with Gambit's skills will be helpful."
"Allons-y!" (Let's go!) Emil announced, sidling over to Kitty and giving her a lavish wink. "De Lapin never sad t' go on a trip wit' such belle filles."
Rogue groaned. This was going to be a long trip.
Emil was impressed. The nice 'little' ride they had was truly impressive and he decided to scope out the Xavier Institute's funds later with a finer examination. He didn't remember seeing this on the list.
He lovingly caressed the controls nearest him only to get a growl from Wolverine. "Hands off Cajun."
He gave an innocent grin and put his hands up. Wolverine's eyes just narrowed before returning to preparing the jet for take-off. Oy, the homme was seriously touchy.
His eyes wandered to the rest of the team who were discussing how to approach Essex. Cyclops was advocating calling in Jean, his girlfriend apparently, since Essex was a powerful telepath. The others were nodding, but de Rogue didn't look too thrilled. A smile inched over his face and he decided to perk her up. Facing her, he gave her the grin Remy had once assured him was just as charming as his own.
"So chérie-"
"Don't call me that!" the aggressive snap caught him off-guard, but Rogue turned away to the window. Glancing beyond her, he saw her brunette friend mouth something. He squinted: 'Remy.'
"Ah," he mused aloud. "Desolé, I be slow sometimes catin." (Cajun term of endearment) She gave a shrug to the window. "I know y' be missin' y' garçon, mais-"
"He ain't m'-" she caught herself, eyes going distant and he had to resist the urge to check behind him to what was catching her attention. After a second, she glanced over to Logan with a sudden frown, but distractedly went on. "Weh not dating."
Emil raised an eyebrow, but no one else protested the claim, though he saw Shadowcat bite her lip again.
"Whateva y' say." Rogue didn't react and he had the feeling she had gone away inside herself again. She seemed to do that a lot.
Taking advantage of her preoccupation, he examined her, recalling Belladonna's words. He had no doubt she and Remy were somehow involved, though exactly how given her mutation made him wonder. And then he remembered the Egyptian specialty item.
Even since Remy had started to travel seriously, Emil had had a habit of tracking his purchases – a habit he'd enlarged once Remy had been exiled. It was his way of making sure Remy was doing okay, wherever he was, and he was reasonably sure Remy was aware of the surveillance. He'd been surprised by the buy of the 600 cotton thread sheet though. It was an odd purchase by itself and the accompanying satin gloves had completely perplexed him.
Obviously though, Remy had been making some very good use of the acquisitions and he smirked. But then it sagged. Why did she not crow it from the rooftops? Remy didn't go to such lengths for just anyone.
Suitably troubled, Emil's hand went for his pack without thought with the same ease of his cousin, even if he could hardly light up with the same flare.
Cylops and Wolverine noticed at the same time. "There's no smoking in here," Cyclops snapped while Shadowcat made a face. Emil flicked out his hand, giving an innocent grin.
"Gotta warn an homme 'bout rules like dat-"
A hand shot out and snatched the cigarette, taking an indulgent drag. Emil wasn't sure who was more shocked – himself or Cyclops as Rogue blew out the smoke with a sultry twist of her mouth, one Emil felt was eerily familiar.
"Rogue?" Cyclops croaked and Emil felt a stab of amusement.
"Y' wanted one, coulda jus' asked catin."
"Don' call me dat," she said lazily, drawling in a way that made Emil's spine prickle.
"She doesn't smoke!" Cyclops protested, though Emil couldn't be sure who to. He raised an eyebrow and Cyclops scowled.
"Calme Cy-" she cut herself off, giving her head a shake and lowering the cigarette. "Scott. Remy's just restless – an' the cig helps."
Emil felt a sudden cold flush fill his insides; he'd had his suspicions, but to hear her say-
"Y' absorbed him." He wasn't aware he said it out loud until Rogue gave him a direct look, taking another drag before surrendering the cigarette to Cyclops.
"How else did yah think ah found yah so easily?"
He didn't want to consider the implications, but he had to. "So y' got him up dere, all his memories an'-" he didn't know how to finish the sentence and mercifully, she cut in.
"'s like havin' a copy of him in mah head. An' believe meh, he's almost just as uncooperative up dere as he is in real life." He nodded like he understood, feeling incredibly squeamish. "Bu' he ain't tryin' t' take ova mah body, so 's all bon." His smile probably looked seasick, but at least he tried. With the guts that had allowed him to stick by his cousin during his 'I-make-everything-go-boom' phase, he tilted his head, sifting through the past hour for clues.
The bar…
"Dat punch," Emil asked curiously after a minute. "Was tha' Remy?"
Something flickered in Rogue's eyes, but she shook her head. "Nope, that's was all me."
She lingered for a minute before a smirk spread across her mouth. "But Remy, he says it was a nice throw."
Emil didn't doubt it – and with a sinking stomach, he wondered again, just what he was getting into.
"Y' said y'd fixed it so it wouldn't happen again." The voice, speaking out of the shadows, was tense.
"Ah, Gambit, you've become blunter since we last spoke." Sinister turned from his lab table and grinned. Gambit remained silent, remaining at the edge of the shadows.
"Now, my dear boy, did you really think I'd perform such an, investment without making sure it would be properly appreciated?" Gambit didn't dispute Sinister's right.
"An' a phone call was too much effort?"
"I gave you plenty of time. I waited for Lehnsherr to resurface, renounce your contract and all his cherished plans." His mocking was sickening, even if Gambit had professed similar disdain for 'Joseph.' "I made sure he had enough time to relay the fact to you – so imagine my surprise when I just happened to run across Creed, stating you were still residing with the X-Men instead of returning to my operations."
Gambit lit a cigarette, his motions more abrupt than usual. "What do y' want Essex?"
Sinister's eyes glinted. "Ever heard of the Morlocks?"
And Sinister smiled.
You are calm and reposed.
Let your beauty unfold.
Pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones.
Spring keeps you ever close.
You are second hand smoke.
You are so fragile and thin.
Standing trial for your sins.
Holding onto yourself the best you can.
You are the smell before rain.
You are the blood in my veins.
Selina – you reviewed like every chapter - thank you!/ Lol about the goatee. /You keep thanking me! /So agree - "It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt..."/ Ahhh the confusion of who's using who or starting to develop real feelings; something I hate in fanfiction is when one thing suddenly provides utter and complete revelation and someone's feelings do a complete 180. It's sooo unrealistic. With these two, neither consider a real relationship possible and the games they play just end up getting them more entangled despite themselves./ "It's so easy to let some mask fall without even realizing it and then have reality come crashing around us." I don't think it's easy. Remy and Rogue had to go through a good amount before they got to the point of dropping those masks – but I do think intimacy makes us drop masks far more quickly than without it./ The Boy song is amazing, I think I'm going to try to work it in. Love Neruda./ You have to like angst to really do Romy – their original characters in the comics are simply too immersed in it./ HUGE –blush- -cough- orgasmic?!/ My favorite quote: "Nothing in life comes easy. Rogue and Remy are just...they are like a house of cards." One about to come tumbling down…