Born For Bad Luck

by Peanutbutter1

Rogue has an encounter with someone she thought was dead. Good or bad meeting him will change the course of her life. There is some St. John, a little Rogue, and some Cajun Spice with Remy LeBeau. R&R Rated M for later stuff

18. A World I Never Made

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing

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 18: A World I Never Made

"...I'm a stranger and afraid
I'm a stranger and afraid
I'm a stranger and afraid
In a world I never made

I'm always chasing dragons
With a sword that's made of tin
So I know in my soul
There's no way I can win
I tried, oh I tried
But there's no place, no place to go
There's no one here who knows me
And no one here I know..."

(A World I Never Made by Doc Pomus/ Mac Rebennac )

0o0o0

She didn't know she was going to do it, not really. She'd packed her bags the night before sure she was going to leave, but to where she still didn't know. It was too much to deal with, the silence, the sudden screams of Carol. She couldn't control her own powers let alone the powers of another, but swimming in it all was a voice she couldn't rid herself of. Remy was stuck, sometimes even annoyingly, to her subconscious.

He was a thief, an escape artist; his own Houdini and he'd let himself out. He'd picked the locks on her mind. He was always there, like Logan sitting listening and filling her nose with scents she had never found delightful until she'd touched him. Cigarettes, still repulsive sent a stir of desire through her, for tobacco, and the smell of bourbon did the same. Though when Logan had filled her mind she had tried a few of those things to the heaving sick realization that even though she craved the smells she hated the taste.

Then there were other things she couldn't explain. At least not with a little voice to accompany the feeling. She had a taste for peaches, savoring their smell and fuzzy skins, when she had always hated them. Her zeal for gossip, never very pronounced pushed her to listen when Jubilee was rambling, and she had the urge to write. She suddenly could hear music and one day she sat at the piano in the common room and the music had flowed into her fingers wrenching from her a sorrowful song, her fingers, aching with the effort flying across the keys. And without her realization her eyes shifting from green to blue.

When it was over, like a wave reseeding and pulling loose sand with it, she'd blinked her head collapsing into her gloved fingers and she sobbed. She had never played in her life, never felt music the way she just had and the following ache of guilt was enough to send her into hysterics. She didn't know how long she sat there, red eyed and dripping tears, arms wrapped around her chest, clutching herself convulsively, but she would have sat there all night if Logan hadn't walked in.

He probably heard her sniffles, smelled her tears, and it hurt even more that she knew what that was like.

"Stripes?"

Rogue jumped even though she knew he was there. Her fingers dug into the green of her sweater uncomfortable heat rushing her face and arms while her hands remained ice cold.

Her voice was a strained whisper. "Yeah."

"You alright Stripes?"

She wanted to tell him she was, but her mind wasn't working and the tears threatened again. She was so busy trying to answer that she didn't feel him until he was sitting beside her arm around her shoulders holding her to his chest. She was reminded of a train ride not so long ago. She fell onto his chest throat clogged, but she was comforted by his scent, those stupid cigars, the wild smell that was always with him. His hand brushed her hair, tips barely coasting the edge of her face. She tensed and he pulled the hand back to the top of her head.

"What's wrong Rogue?"

His gruff voice was enough to loosen the knot in the throat. She wanted to tell him everything. "Ah, Ah don' play the piano." She whispered.

"I don't," he started, but she wasn't done and if he kept talking she wouldn't finish.

"Ah can, Ah can now, Ah don' know how though. My momma tried ta, she tried to teach me, but Ah..." she trailed off lamely. Shaking her head against him. "Ah don' play the piano."

He stayed with her for a long time holding her, strong where she was weak and she was homesick with his comfort. In those little moments, when she realized just who it was that loved the things she'd never understood, she was choked with guilt. Even though Carol had told her she wasn't she felt like a killer and worse than that she felt like a thief.

It wasn't just the piano that didn't belong to her it was her own appetite.

She'd just eaten an entire basket of peaches and the juice rich and ripe dripped from her fingers tips and her tongue was sweet with the juices. The fruit's skin scrubbing pleasantly across her mouth. She hated peaches always had. Trembling she'd realized what had happened. She stared at the pits, bits of fruit flesh still sticking to their pitted and red sides. Her stomach heaved, and she rushed for the bathroom.

The smell rushed over her like a sick cloud. She had had the stomach flu when she was nine and she found out after eating a big ripe peach, later that night it came back up, scrubbing her throat, burning her nostrils with soured juice. She hadn't eaten a peach since then. She knew it wasn't the peach that made her sick, but the smell, the smell had always made her stomach turn.

She barely made it to the bathroom before it was coming up, chunks of peach colored fruit and half chewed skin rushing past her tongue and out her mouth. Her throat burned with bile and her eyes watered. She coughed wondered how she had even done it, but she knew. She knew.

Thief, she screamed at herself, 'Thief', 'Vampire, soul sucking monster', but it wasn't only her voice screaming. It was him, the crazy man who'd scrambled her mind. She clutched her hair pulling lightly and clamping her fingers, still sticky with peach, over her ears.

"You're no t'ief."

The chuckle reached her ears and she jumped, hands falling from her ears. It startled her more than the screams, but there was one thing about the voice it pushed her away from the blackness. It was only then she was able to realize it wasn't him after all, only her own voice and Scrambler was still locked away, but Remy was free.

"Wha..." she started, but her stomach wasn't done rebelling and the peaches came up again, her stomach seizing in a horrible cramp.

"You're no t'ief," the voice repeated when the retching was done her hand on the small silver knob.

"Too clumsy," it pronounced. "Too slow..."

"Ah'm not clumsy," she called aloud. Her head was swimming and her stomach rolling. Her flushed cheeks begged for something cool. She barely knew what she was saying. The colors on the bathroom walls were swirling.

"An' loud," it added chuckling softly.

"Ah locked you up," she whispered. "You're not real." She blinked and the world shifted back to normal and even though the smell of peach was still rushing over her, it wasn't as nauseating.

Absently she leaned against the bathroom cabinets one hand on the porcelain toilet her fingers hooked on the silver handle the other splayed on the floor the cool tile soothing her burning skin, the smell of soured peaches threatening her.

"I'm real," he whispered, "Dat true 'nough, and dere not a lock Remy can't pick, cheré. Dat the mark of a real t'ief."

"If Ah'm not a thief," she whispered afraid to say the rest aloud, but her mind finished the sentence even as she willed it not to. "...then Ah'm a killer."

"I know dat's not true eit'er," his voice was slow, soothing like silk across her troubled mind. "Remy know all 'bout dat too. You're no killer."

Even if it wasn't real it was good to hear it. She grabbed hold of his soothing words willing them to stick. After a while her stomach stopped protesting and she got shakily to her feet. Her words were hardly loud enough to get past her own ears but they really didn't have that far to go.

"Thank you."

He was silent and Rogue was sure it had all been an hallucination until the quiet whisper reached her ears and she smiled lopsided and worried. It said 'your welcome' in a heavily accented Cajun.

She didn't tell Kitty what had made her sick, or why there were eight peach pits on the table, eight missing peaches, peaches that had belonged to Jubilee. She was pissed. Rogue wanted to laugh because she was blaming everyone, everyone but Rogue. She knew Rogue hated them.

It was two days later that she slipped again. It was then that she made a decision.

Rogue wascovered in sweat. Her uniform stuck to her chest and her hair, dripping, stuck to her forehead and the bits of fine hair that refused to stay up were clinging to her neck. She had tried to keep it tied back but with all the jumping and running she was doing it was impossible. Her muscles were shaking and she crouched closing her eyes against the chaos for a moment as she tried to regain her bearings.

"I told you it was too soon, Rogue get ready to end simulation. You're wiped."

Rogue narrowed her eyes, sure the voice, Bobby Drake, could see her.

"Stuff it," she said and stood back up, the ground under her feet rumbling as another explosion racked the room. "Ah'm fine. Ah just need to get inta the swing of thangs, alright, lay off."

She thought about switching the intercom off, but it would only prompt Bobby to switch the simulation off and it wasn't even at the maximum danger level. She should have been able to handle the simulation in her sleep. He didn't respond and the room, the devastation, didn't fade away so she took a moment to contact her team.

"Colossus, this is Rogue Ah'm in position."

"Target is approaching your position, are you prepared to engage?"

Rogue rolled her neck and pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear, "Yeah, Ah'm ready."

"Right target in range in three, two..."

The rest of the countdown was interrupted by another rumble the building shook and before she could think about leaping to the next she lost her balance and fell to her knees.

"Rogue, get down, Rogue!"

Somebody, everybody was yelling at her, but she didn't even know what was happening not until the stable floor she had been kneeling one gave away and she was falling. She shut her eyes. It was going to hurt, she was so high up and even in the danger room you could be hurt.

"End simulation!"

The screech reached her ears and she heard the battle sounds disappear. Maybe, just maybe she wouldn't break anything. She felt like she had been falling forever, but she was too panicked to think much. All it meant was that she was going to hit harder than she'd thought.

"Rogue?"

The way her name was spoken made her open her eyes. Her face hurt with how hard she had been holding them shut, afraid that it was the end, that the fall was going to be bad. She didn't hit the ground, and she wasn't falling.

Her arms flailed for a moment before dropping to her sides. She willed herself to fall, but stayed afloat anyway. Control, control was something she was never able to obtain. It didn't seem to matter which power it was.

She wasn't falling, in fact she was floating.

She was floating, she was flying? No! Her mind screamed and suddenly she was falling. It was too loud. Carol was screaming. Rogue covered her ears trying to block the sound. Someone caught her, jarring her with the impact. She wanted to tell them to put her down, but Carol was still screaming.

Hands brushed over her face, flesh colored blurs that faded just as fast as they appeared. She struggled her body flexing defensively as she tried to get away from the strong arms holding her down. Carol was panicking, she didn't like the flying. Rogue had promised she wouldn't use her powers, and she hadn't even tried to. It was an accident.

Thief, her mind screamed when it was over and even Remy couldn't calm the roar that rushed over her. A thief she was and a killer she felt like. Disturbed by her cravings her voices and her unwelcome powers she decided to leave, but she hadn't known where or when until she found out the X-men were voting whether or not to turn Remy and John over to the police.

"Why didn't ya tell meh?" Rogue yelled unsure just why it was Bobby that was getting the brunt of her frustration, but all the same she was pretty sure he was the reason she wasn't included in the vote.

"What does it matter Rogue, we all know how you would have voted and it's not like we were dead locked." Bobby turned back to the papers stacked in front of him and started marking them with red. He was grading papers in between deciding someones fate.

"Ya don' know!" she cried the words exploding from her mouth before she could stop them.

"You want them here?" He asked finally looking up from his papers the pen flat on the stack.

"Ah jus'," she started and turned away from his ice blue eyes, "Ah just want ta be part of it. Ah was there. Ah know what happened. Ah should get a say."

"Rogue," Bobby paused and turned away from her his eyes darting to the ceiling. He was avoiding something. "You're not, you're under a lot of stress lately. With Carol, and the kidnapping, and Essex, we just thought you'd be better off out of this one."

"You," She snorted, "you mean you thought I would be better off. Ah can take care of myself."

She had, after all, taken care of herself, after her family turned her away, after Cody. Terrified and alone she'd been alright, mostly. She didn't need Bobby Drake looking in on her, not about this, not when it meant leaving her out. She was excluded enough when her powers were only helpful if another fell, or she was lucky enough to get one touch in. It never happened that way. It was too difficult to guard for a direct attack and distractions never worked, at least not without leaving bruises. She had been kicked out of the action she wasn't going to be kicked out of the meetings too, and Bobby, protecting her or not, had just given her a very dangerous idea.

It wasn't hard to get into the medical bay. Hank was still up hunched over his computer a cup of coffee on the counter, but her was too engrossed to see her pass by. She had the security codes already, most full members were given the codes for emergencies it was just a matter of punching them in and hoping the two were asleep.

They should be. Remy was badly hurt in the Morlock fight, or so she'd been told, and John with deep scratches across his face. The both were on sedatives to help them sleep and a mild dose of painkillers.

Either way she looked through the door the tiny window in front giving her a view of each bed and of both mutants sound asleep. She punched in the code still afraid Hank had seen her and would walk around the corner at any moment. The bright key pad glowed green and Rogue pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. While the hall had been lite by the steady glow of emergency red lights the room was dark, the light from the window doing little for the corners of the small room and the left half of Remy's bed. John was bathed in most of the light but he was sound asleep snoring slightly with his arm thrown behind his head. His face was unbandaged, red slashes of raised skin promised a eternal reminder of his battle. He was lucky he still had use of his eye.

It was strange to look at him again. The last time she'd seen him seemed like a life time ago but it had barely been a week. He rolled, moaning in his sleep, and Rogue felt her body freeze afraid that he would wake. The dread rushed over her cold and hot all at the same time. Her cheeks flushed in expected embarrassment, but it was for nothing. He rolled onto the soured part of his face the dark brown hair falling over his good eye and tucked the free arm under his chin. It was how he'd always slept.

The nostalgia was unexpected and not entirely welcome. John had once been her friend, had once... The image of the three of them, John, her, and Bobby shot through her mind like a freight train and she stepped back in a quick jerk like she'd been struck by it. The entire time she'd been kidnapped, afraid, and even as she'd told Remy she wasn't afraid of him she had been, because that wasn't the John she'd known, but him sleeping hand curled under his chin, moaning, mumbling in his sleep... She wanted to reach for him. He had once been her friend, and somewhere tucked under all his posturing was a good man, she was sure of it. She just had to make everyone else see it.

She was at his side before she knew it her hands no longer sweating and her lips thinned into a determined line. She reached for him, the exposed portion of his cheek. Her naked fingers caressing his cheek in a brief touch. Her skin sang with the contact, electricity momentary, but strong, rushed over her. She staggered back her foot bumping the wall and she gasped as the images invaded her mind.

They were rushed, so many snippets of information, confusing, swirling. She opened her mouth in a silent scream while the images rushed over her and almost without thought she started to sort them. The bad in one the good in the other, but mostly there were the snippets that were neither good or bad. Before long the stream calmed and she was able to put most of them together, but she would do more of that later. She had enough for what she wanted to do the rest, the rest was just...

She shook her head, no longer worried about John he would be out cold for a long time, but she still had one more thing to do. There was Remy.

She looked over John's bed to Remy's side of the room. It was strange to look at him, when for weeks he had been talking to her. She remembered the peaches, the flying incident in the danger room, every time he had been there, but he hadn't not the real him, just a shadow, a shadow that could pick locks.

She felt like she knew him, she had never talked to him, not in a real conversation. She had played cards with him one time, but afterward, the small amount of trust she had had in him was shattered. He tried to kill Logan, and John had helped.

She shook her head, no, John had been scared, realistic, he had know it wouldn't kill him. He had just wanted to stop him, but she didn't feel any better about that. There wasn't time to think about that. She had a mission. Quietly she crept across the floor eyes focused on his face. He was immobile chest rising and falling slowly, still asleep. She stopped by his head hand raised for a moment as she tried to catch his features, but it was too dark and Remy's face was lost in the blur.

She shook off the urge to see him, really see him, because the image of him in her mind was vague, not blurry but transparent. He wafted instead of remaining solid, but his voice, his voice had never been anything but solid. Her fingers slid toward his face.

She didn't notice him moving, or even that his eyes had opened until it was too late. He grabbed her wrist squeezing over the fabric covering it. His eyes, gleaming in the darkness, pinned her to the spot and for a moment she was unable to struggle. That moment was all Remy needed and the next second he had his sheet wrapped around his hand and clamped over her mouth stopping any sound from escaping.

He flipped her across his body dragging her into the darkness and onto the other side of his bed his hand still clamped over her mouth. She hit the ground lightly despite the force of his fling. He leaned toward her face still in shadow eyes bright beacons of red.

"Hanks on 'is way."

Rogue stiffened under his hand. She didn't want to be caught.

"Jus' stay dere and all is well, chere." He whispered his breath brushing the tip of her ear and sending the hair there blowing back. When he pulled back his hand left her face and Rogue rubbed her ear willing the involuntary tingle his breath had cause away.

She froze seconds later and pushed herself flat on the floor as Hank opened the door and peered into the room. Light flooded the room pushing the darkness away and making Rogue all too aware of her vulnerability. Darkness was the only thing keeping her hidden. She held her breath willing him to miss her, to not smell her or hear her. She couldn't see Remy the bed too high but she was sure he was faking sleep, just like he had done to her and she was sure he was fooling Hank as well, or she hoped he was.

Moments, that seemed like hours, later the door shut and there was nothing but darkness. Rogue relaxed until she remembered him. He had caught her trying to touch him, had probably seen her touching John. She swallowed.

"Dere a reason you're tryin' to put me in a coma, or dat just your way of saying 'I like you?'" Remy vaulted over the side of the bed, land lightly and silently like a cat, crouched on the balls of his feet. The small light from the door was backing him, casting him in further shadow and she couldn't make out his face to gage his reaction.

"Ah was tryin' to help ya," she breathed and forced herself onto her feet, crouched low like he was, but less vulnerable than her sprawled position on the floor.

"By knocking me unconscious? Dat seem a little backward."

Rogue bristled, not sure if he was teasing or not. "Comin' from the man that kidnaps and steals but sometimes fights on the good side."

He was silent for a moment, "Touche', cherie, but dat still don't tell me what you're doin' here?"

"Ah'm tryin' to see what your plans are," she paused, "for later, after the X-men."

There was definite humor in his voice when he answered. "An' askin' jus' lost it's flare?"

"John never would have answered and you," she paused anger simmering on the surface, "You just would have lied. Ah needed the truth."

"Ya jus' can' wait ta touch Remy again, non, de first time jus' wasn't enough."

Rogue shook her head, suddenly regretting her idea, the entire plan had been stupid. "You're delusional."

"Who was in who's bed in de middle of the night? Who trying to touch who?"

Rogue snorted arms crossed over her chest. "You're ego," she breathed, "ya know it's the only reason you guys lost hold of me. Ya under estimated me and overestimated yourselves."

"It was John dat lost hold of you. I always knew ta watch out."

He shifted the side of his face suddenly visible. Smooth skin, strong straight jaw, and dark eyes dotted with bright red that were no more expressive than the rest of his face. He was bantering, jabbing, teasing, but something told her it was just a put on. He was thinking about something else and bantering with her was the way to keep it from getting out. He turned back to her, back into the dark, expect for those bright eyes, and Rogue figured it was time to get back to business. She had a plan a good one, and it would just have to change a little.

"They had a vote, about what ta do with the two of ya." Rogue waited for him to say something but he remained silent. "They're not going ta let ya go. They don't trust ya, and for good reason Ah guess, but Ah wanted to make sure, Ah mean ya did save meh, later, Ah didn't want them to make the wrong decision."

"De professor, he asked John ta stay, pissed him off something good, and Bobby, Bobby came ta tell him. Dere bad blood dere, between them, John never talked 'bout de iceboy, but he still has a lot to say to him, and none of it good."

"Ah heard they got in a fight."

"Would have been worse if not for de Beast, and if I hadn't been watchin'. He said some stuff he didn' mean, or did at the moment, doesn' matter I image dat what swayed de vote."

"That's why Ah came down here. Ah wanted to see for myself, to tell them to let you go." Rogue wished she could see his face, just to guess what he was thinking. As if reading her mind he shifted back leaning against the bed his legs stretching in front of him. She barely glimpsed the wince that settled across his face at the movement.

"Can' sit like dat too long, de leg'is not so good."

Rogue was silent as he bent his leg at the knee before stretching it back out.

"You so sure I'm a good guy?"

How could she tell him about the shadow in her head that vaguely looked like him but had his voice, strong and real that pulled her away from darkness, the sorrow, she just knew that voice couldn't be bad, not when it had brought her so much comfort. She shrugged instead.

"Ah just got this feeling."

"Don't deserve your trust." His voice was thick something more than his bravado lacing it.

"Yah don't have it yet, swamp rat," she whispered back trying to lighten the harsh tones of his voice. "Ah ain't looked in that cobwebbed head."

He turned toward her the light from the door brightening the edge of his mouth where his lips quirked into a half smile his brow raising slightly. "Well, cherie, cop a feel anytime ya want." he winked shamelessly and Rogue rolled her eyes. "Just let a fella get back on to somet'ing more comfortable dan de floor."

Rogue followed him up, feeling awkward as he lowered himself onto the bed closed his eyes.

"Dis might give me a good night sleep, non."

Rogue was silent as he shifted a little stretching his leg again. Somehow touching him, like this, with his consent, was a little more intimate than she wanted. It wasn't sexual, just close, too close for her. Her fingers hovered over his brow, shaking slightly and she was glad his eyes were closed. Right before her fingers brushed his skin he spoke.

"Chere, Rogue, I'm sorry for what happened."

Her fingers touched his forehead cutting off any chance for a response. He didn't jerk but his breathing changed instantly and Rogue's head was filled with more of Remy LeBeau. The image of him reappeared, sharper than before and the grin on his face was the one she'd seen just moments ago. She ignored him for the moment focusing on the input, but it was easy to sort, Remy had been thinking about the information she wanted and some of it surprised her.

Satisfied that her mission was complete she took one last fleeting look at Remy LeBeau and St. John Allerdyce and went back to bed.

Her mind had been made up then. She knew exactly what she was going to do and even though it worried her she slept better than she had in months.

0o0o0

I don't know why but this is my favorite chapter. As always thank you so much for the reviews!

Hawaiichick: Thanks! I tried really hard to make the Remy/John friendship believable and there just might me a little Romy coming up...

Pyrowhore: Thank you!

tfobmy18: Bobby can be a bit of an ass, but he has his reasons. Bobby, in this story, is the king of seeing in black and white. Thanks for the review.

Ghostwriter: Thank you!

lovestoread: I'm so glad you keep reading. Glad you liked the mindscape stuff I kinda made most of it up and was wondering whether or not it worked. Thanks for the review.

gaea3: Yeah I'm going to be putting out a new chapter every Friday. The story is done except for some minor revisions on the last few chapters. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Ratdogtwo: Thank you!

Wanda W: I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I loved the fight between John and Bobby. The funny thing was I started to write that part as them making up, or coming to an understanding, but you know John just wouldn't shut up and Bobby just couldn't let go. I love when the characters tell me what needs to be written. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

0o0o0

From Chapter 19

He woke with her face swimming in front of him, like she had just touched him moments ago. His skin still tingled, and his head ached dully as he forced his eyes open. He almost spoke her name, involuntary, a question of what she felt, what she had seen, a hope that her eyes hadn't seen further than he wanted, but he realized, just short of her name forming on his tongue, that it was a dream fading just behind his eyes. She had left, a while ago, sending him into the heavy sleep her touch induced. There was an ache in his muscles that sung more of the energy she'd pulled from him than the bullet wound or scratches he'd received.

He had hoped her fingers would purge his mind of thought and allow him to sleep dream free. The morlock girl, his past, Rogue, they all swelled on him in the dead of the night, consuming, taking, and blaming him until he sat against the wall afraid to close his eyes. His skin would weep, pooling and cooling, sweat born of fear spinning through his body like a coil of terror that left his skin clammy. He hadn't expected her touch to change much, but, perhaps, to force him to endure the voices and the blame, and at the best leave him in blissful black silence. He didn't remember if he dreamed just her face and a voice, but the terror was absent, the guilt, for the moment, gone. The absence of feeling wouldn't last, but for the time being he could reveal in an achy peace of mind. Even if he never escaped the X-Men, or whatever else they had in store for him at least he had that, one dreamless empty night.

"You slept through breakfast."

Remy rolled to his side, still too spent to force himself to sit. His eyes blurred for a second as he tried focused on John. John's back was pressed into the mattress his feet propped on the head board. His fingers were closed over a small rubber ball. He tossed it up, caught it in his right hand, tossed it again, caught it in his left, tossed it lazily toward the wall. 'Thunk', it bounced off the wall and back into his left hand.

"I nearly grabbed your arm and rolled you out of bed." He spoke again, squeezing the ball like one of those pliable stress relievers.

"Afraid of de reflexes?" Remy joked and pulled himself up, his hand still pressed over the ache just over his eyes.

'Thunk'. The ball landed in his hand again. He paused squeezed the rubber and tossed it up. He caught it easily. "Just realized it was the first time I'd seen you sleep since we'd gotten here, thought you could use it."

Remy frowned, introspective John was as bad as silent John. Perhaps Rogue's touch had scrambled his brain. He ignored the concern. "You tryin' to make up for' de other day, or is dere somet'ing gross in dat bacon sandwich."

John snorted and looked at the half eaten breakfast tray and raised a brow, "Eat at your own risk." He barked a short laugh and cursed as the ball bounced off the wall and careened toward the door. John turned his head to watch its bouncing descent as it settled under Remy's bed. He made no move to pick it up.

"This is one of those times I wish I'd gotten telekinesis instead of the fire thing," He watched the ball roll further from him, disappearing into the gloom under Remy's bed. His eyes remained locked on the floor. "Wouldn't matter anyway. They turned on the dampeners." His voice was laced with nonchalance, but his refusal to look any where else but the floor was give away enough. John was brimming somewhere between despair and boiling rage.