Disclaimer: I own nothing

Title: Born For Bad Luck

By: Peanutbutter

"Boys I'm most done travellin', Lord I'm at my journey's end

B'lieve I'm most done travellin', Lord at my journey's end

Well I been lookin' for me a good partner, bad luck is my best friend..."

(Born for Bad Luck song by Brownie McGhee)

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

"Yes I got double trouble

What am I gonna do now?"

(Double Trouble song by: Brownie McGhee)

Note: Thanks for the reviews. Also sorry about that first person typo in the first chapter. I fixed it. I didn't realize I had posted that particular version. I'll be more careful in the future. I hope you guys like this chapter. Also I couldn't get my breaks between POV to stick so I just made the first two words of the new POV Bold. Hope that works.

John caught her just shy was landing in her own vomit. He must have shaken her too much in his haste to get her off his bed. He told himself he was justified, even though he'd made her throw up with his rough handling. He only had one bed, and at the moment he'd spent the last of him money on that fancy downtown explosion. He had no money for the laundry mat. Given, it was his fault she was passed out he'd forgive her for the floor. He looked at his feet and grimaced, and his shoes.

"Dis a bad time?"

John looked up and narrowed his eyes at Remy. Even if he told the Cajun it was a bad time he wouldn't leave. He was already leaning against the kitchen counter shuffling his cards. He always acted as if everywhere was his personal space, whether he was welcome or not. He raised a brow and smirked. Cocky bastard John thought silently.

John turned away. Theres no use explaining Rogue. Remy was just convinced everyone was as big of a skank as he was. Even though Rogue was all dead weight she wasn't as heavy as he thought she would. As gently as he could he lifted her by the armpits and tossed her as gently as possible toward the couch bed. She landed with a soft 'whomp' her feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Ignoring the slap of Remy's card John toed off his shoes and headed for Rogue's side. Grabbing her arms, he pulled her toward the top of the bed and let her head rest on a pillow. His fingers lingered near her head for a moment and he smoothed her hair. He'd really screwed up this time. She was going to need a doctor.

"Dat de result of a good night, or a bad one?"

John doesn't need to look at Remy to know he was smirking again. His smug ass, shuffling his cards like he knows just what he's talking about. Will it be this funny when he knows that she's an X-man, or that she was? That was a question he was planning on asking her before the projectile vomiting.

"How about you stop posing and help me clean this up," John called.

"Dat not my problem," Remy hopped onto the counter and knocked the heel of his boots against the cabinet doors. He was full of helpful snark but not real helpful when it mattered.

"Just get me a towel, alright, I don't want to move that much and..." John trailed off and was suddenly glad he wasn't squeamish about this stuff, "I'm pretty sure if I move too much I'll track it all over the house."

Remy hopped off the counter and pocketed his cards. John could at least be thankful for that. Remy stepped into the bathroom and started going threw some drawers. John couldn't see him through the dim light, but he knew the Cajun was up to something.

"Listen, you know where the towels are, quit going through my stuff, you damn klepto." There was a growl from the bathroom and John had to grin. It was too easy to goad the Cajun. He was a thief, self proclaimed even, but he still got jittery when he was called on it.

The towel hit him in the side of the head and he would have been more pissed about it, but he Remy was actually helping apposed to his laughing earlier. There went his plan to save money on the laundry. He only had two towels. Just as he was bending down to get to work something wet, and cold smacked into the side of his face. It stuck for a moment before falling onto his shoulder. John clenched his teeth. His fingers went to the lighter in his pocket and he was only his feet without a second thought.

"You want to fight, Cajun, I've really got all the time in world."

"For de fille," he said, still smirking, "you put it on her neck while she passed out. Also you might want to turn her on her side, in case she loses it again."

John forced this thumb off the starter of his zippo and pocketed it. The bastard might be right but damned if he was going to admit it, or even mention that it worried him that she might get sick again. Remy like being emotionally superior, or at least pretending to be, but John had seen him loose his cool enough to know he was just as explosive as John was. He identified with that. When he got pissed he blew things up, and hell sometimes Remy did too, even if it wasn't on purpose.

"Make yourself useful," John yelled back and tossed the cloth at Remy. He hoped to hit the man in the face. The thief caught it effortlessly and stepped toward Rogue's lifeless form. John was surprised he didn't protest, but Remy really didn't have any qualms when it came to women.

The first wipe across the floor got most of the mess. It was mostly bile, he guessed, very little food, mostly liquid, frothy and yellow. John forced back his gag reflex and closed his eyes as he got to his feet. All he needed to do was get sick in front of Remy.

"Dis girl got on a lot of clothes for de summer."
The Cajun's words rolled off his back like water off a duck. He was too busy trying to control himself to bother with what was being said.

"Dis girl got gloves, and long sleeves. She look like it's cold outside."

John swallowed and headed for the bathroom. Half way there he redirected himself toward the kitchen. He frowned as he opened the trash can lid and dropped the towel in. This way he saved on the laundry even if he was out his only other towel. Beside there was no way he was putting anything he wore into a washer full of a puke covered towel. "What are you doing here anyway. We're not supposed to meet until later." John asked when he turned around, hoping he'd remember to take the trash out before tomorrow, or better yet convince Remy to do it for him. The later wasn't likely.

Remy was still looking at the girl his hand holding the cloth to the back of her neck. He was starting at her and John was slightly worried that he couldn't see the man's left arm very well. For all I knew the Cajun was feeling Rogue up while she was passed out. He started to tell Remy to back away from her when what Remy had been saying finally sunk in. With the fainting and the vomiting he'd forgotten the question that had led to the entire ordeal. She'd gotten the cure. He'd seen her in the line. Why was she wearing so many clothes, gloves...

His mouth refused to work as he watched Remy push her onto her side. Her hair was covering her cheek he brushed it aside. The tips of his fingers made contact with her skin. He jerked, like he'd been shocked, and damn him he didn't pull away. There was panic in his red on black eyes, something John had rarely seen before. The next second he was out like a light. He hit the edge of the bed before falling face first to the floor. He landed with a thud and didn't move. Dammit, John cursed inwardly his day was getting worse and worse.

This was bad. The fact that he'd nearly blown Rogue up was bad. Her being in his apartment was bad. Remy knowing about it was worse, and still worse than that was the two of them touching.

"Dammit!" John whirled around kicked the kitchen chair. It slammed against the counter the leg breaking off. He cursed again. He knew how Rogue's powers worked, he knew all too well that she not only absorbed powers but memories as well. There was a lot of stuff swimming around in that Cajun's head but one thing in particular was worrying him. If she found out, if she knew just a fraction of what he feared they were doomed. The both of them.

"Shit, shit, shit!" John plopped onto the floor and dragged his cigarettes out of his pocket again. He had nearly half a pack but he didn't know if they'd last long enough. His fingers shaking slightly he lit up. The first draw was calming, the second was better. He had a long wait ahead of him. His right arm occupied with the cigarette he flipped his lighter on and off with his left. 'Damn Starbucks, and their blueberry muffins' he thought idly. It was all their fault.

Mardi Gras was in full swing. Unfortunately he wasn't in New Orleans, and he was pretty sure the pounding was all in his head. He winced and got to his feet. His face was killing him. Groaning, he felt his cheek. There was a swollen spot on his cheek bone. He'd hit something pretty hard.

"So you're finally awake. I was wondering who was going to be the first one up."

Remy turned, his vision was still a little hazy, like a fuzzy film over a clear picture. He blinked. John was sitting a few feet away, his back to his counter top. He was smoking. That wasn't so unusual, but the ashtray, full of discarded cigarettes was. Some of them were still smoking and there was a cloud around his head, floating across the room. He hadn't opened a window. John smoked, but not a lot, usually it was when he was nervous and worried about something.

John barely looked up as he knocked the extended cherry off the end of his cigarette and took a final drag. He snuffed it out his eyes trained on Remy's. He was being serious, another bad sign. John had few moods, well few he chose to express in mixed company. Mostly it was the chip on his shoulder, cocky bastard, he could hardly stand, but occasionally John was okay. A little bit of an ass but all around fun to hang out with and then there was the face he was getting know. He was still cocky as hell, but something more important was keeping him from acting on it. John was dead serious, and that meant trouble.

"Smoked a whole pack, waiting."

Remy swallowed his mouth tasted like he'd been drinking all night, but this was different from any hangover he'd ever had. "W'at de hell happened?"

John snorted, "Where do I begin, theres been so many fucked up coincidences today."

"How 'bout you start wit why I feel like de grunge rock band from Rocky's is playin' in my head, or why dere dis huge bruise on mon face." He'd skip the part about John's weird behavior. He would probably balk if Remy even broached the subject. John didn't like talking about himself. He always said it gave him flashbacks of his days at Xavier's. Something about group therapy sessions. He hadn't pressed.

John frowned and pointed over Remy's shoulder. "Take a look at your executioner. She's responsible for the headache, the achy limbs, I'm sure, and the cotton filled mouth. The bruise is something you did on the way to unconsciousness. You smacked your head on the side of the my headboard on the way down."

Remy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Memories were flooding his head in a disjointed sequence. He tried to sort them out, but it was taking a while. The last thing he remembered doing was touching the girl's face. Then it was like he'd been electrocuted. He'd wanted to let go, but he hadn't been able to. Maybe it was the shock of being shocked, but it was like his hand had been glued to her skin.

"She a mutant?"

"Very observant."

Remy narrowed his eyes. The cocky bastard wasn't completely gone. "W'at de hell, why she here? W'at you doin' wit a dangerous fille like dat?"

John squirmed. There were only a few things that made St. John squirm and non of them were good.

"You remember the business I had this morning?"

Remy swallowed. He knew it had been a bad idea. He'd found the damn explosives. He'd ignored them. He'd fucked up as much John had.

"Listen I was just going too..."

Remy cut him off, "Stop I don't want to know de rest."

"Why?"

"'Cause if involves your damn pyromania, I t'ink we might have ta have a fight."

"Like you can talk. You remember that girl, um Jessica?"

Remy stiffened. Dammit he always brought that up. One little mistake, sure it was a mistake that had cost them a job, but... Remy swallowed. "Dat different, homme."

John raised his brows and got to his feet, "Because it involved your dick? Interesting little fact, most things do."

"Dat's..." Remy started and watched as John braced himself for a fight. His fists were balled up his lower lip between his teeth, but he wasn't reaching for his lighter. John wanted a fist fight. Hand to hand combat. John wanted to let off steam. He was riling him up on purpose. There was something bigger something worse. Something that probably deserved a cuff in the skull.

Remy kept his cool. He didn't know how long he could endure John's mouth, but he had to try long enough to get the truth. He didn't have to wait long, apparently John felt it was important enough to skip their usual posturing.

"Its interesting. I know her. I've known her, or did know her years ago."

Remy narrowed his eyes, "From Magneto?"

"No," he reached for the last cigarette in his pack and pulled his lighter out of his pocket. He clicked the flame into place and called the fire to end of his cigarette. It was way too much flair for such a simple action, but that was John. Lots of flare. He was a show off by nature. Remy could appreciate that. He was one too , though he'd never admit it.

"She's an X-man, or was."

Remy launched into French without realizing he was doing it. The epitaphs and insults rolled off his tongue faster than John to trouble. This was worse than he'd imagined. He knew enough about the X-men to know this spelled trouble. The girl was going to talk if they let her go, and it wasn't like they could keep her locked up for a few months. She could blow everything.

"Quit your tirade, Pierre. There's more."

Remy stopped his rant for a moment turned toward John. More, there was more. How could it be worse? There went months of planning, of undercover work, of... He wanted to point out that Jessica hadn't been this bad, not by a long shot, but John was flicking his lighter open and shut. That wasn't too usual, but the pace in which he was doing it was. His fingers were moving with lightening speed over the rolling flint starter. Remy reached for the cards in his pocket, his own stress reliever. The glossy cards slid through his fingers with ease and he hoped it wasn't as bad as he feared.

"Those powers you got a taste off. She absorbs the mutant powers of other mutants, with just a touch, and with the powers comes memory. Given when I last talked to her she couldn't control any of it. The touch, what she got, or even how much, but if it was swimming around in your head she probably got a piece of it."

"De whole damn t'ing is gonna be blown ta hell." Remy suddenly felt weak kneed. If John hadn't already smoked all the cigarettes he'd be chain smoking with the self proclaimed Pyro.

"Bingo, Gumbo."

Remy looked at the girl who held their fate in her hands, or more specifically in her head. What was swimming around in there? He could hear John starting to pace, the faint scratch of metal on metal beating steadily as he opened and shut his lighter again and again. How much trouble was she going to make for them? She looked innocent, but then again all women did when they were sleeping.

So here's another chapter. I hope you guys liked it. There still isn't much progression, but it will move faster the next couple of chapters. Rogue wakes up for good and lots and lots of stuff... :) ;) R&R

Here's a little preview for chapter 3...

"Don' touch a t'ing girl, dis t'ing is comin' from your touch."

"What are ya talkin' about?" Rogue asked. She wanted the light, wanted to see the face of the man talking to her more clearly. His eyes looked strange, dark and bright in all the wrong places. She wanted to be home, and this to all be a dream. Heck, she wanted to John back. He may be a jerk, but he was familiar.

"My powers, dey manifest though touch dat why ya sheets glowed, de wall..." He trailed off. "If I hadn' been here dey would have exploded and taken you with them."

"What are ya talkin' about?" She asked again. It was the only question she could ask.

"Don' move, chere, I'm gonna turn on de lights."

He let go of her arms; stepped away from her. The room was flooded with light, in seconds her closed eyelids turning orange. She opened her eyes squinting. The light was really bright. Why was it so bright?

"Dat better, non?

Rogue turned toward the voice. It was the voice she'd heard before she'd passed out . She opened her eyes slowly, squinting. She felt like the sun was shining directly on her face.

"Vos yeux...noir et rouge..." (Your eyes... black and red...)

So it's not super exciting, but pretty interesting and maybe you'll want to see what happens next.