Thanks to my reviewers! (I seem to have lost a few regulars, totally understandable): turq (thanks - but no Sinister extra, just typical Rogue malfunction), UKnoULuvAnna, Innocence is Beautiful (Carol is not being fair, but she kinda went from one hell to another), A Forgotten Fairy. .AKA- Fairy, Seren McGowan, ChamberlinofMusic, CurrentlyIncognito, ColorCoated (no worries!), Allyg1990 (:)), ShadowFax999 (so agree!), courtneykutie, Ishandahalf (absolutely), and Sweetcornbee.
And thanks MizMiTrev or Veni Vidi Vici for your endorsement!!!
http:(double dash)mizmitrev.(dash)2009(dash)10(dash)halloween-and-hold-me-while-i-am-here(dot)html
Two comments for Chica De Los Ojos Café: The comics always made all the women big-busty and Rogue is really not like that in Evo, so I thought it would be interesting to make a little segue for Rogue. Also, I'm definitely going to explore the dynamics between Rogue and Carol - the comics seemed to take them kind-of for granted (Carol just kept trying to take control or nothing); I never have felt the other personalities have been treated even-handedly.
Erm, so yeah, this is kind of an angst interlude, but they are going to have some downtime until more action. There is some French, but basically all cognates. Lyrics: Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley.
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The More Things Change…
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-
She swung herself off the balcony, finding the familiar grips she'd used before. Remy might have thought he was going to introduce her to the pleasures of roof sitting, but it had been her spot long before he'd shadowed the Mansion's doors.
Carefully, she balanced, exerting little force to climb up the brick, letting her toes rest lightly on each grip. She ignored the slight crumbling around her fingers just as she ignored the chill in the air that did not seep beneath her skin.
She got to the lip of the roof and levered herself up, throwing up a knee to scramble up.
It was all for show, her own self-delusion. Her body didn't have to move that way anymore, didn't have to be subject to the bounds of gravity. But she didn't want to think about that.
Scooting back, she curled up and raised her face to the stars, glinting in the faraway heavens, reassuringly inaccessible.
For the first time in weeks, she felt like herself.
Ha! Carol laughed scornfully.
An illusion.
She held herself tighter - it didn't matter how tight, because even with all that assimilated strength, she was now invulnerable.
Unbreakable.
Carol was silent at that, but she knew the sentiment resonated. For all the gifts Carol had had, there were still burdens.
It was unreal. She had cursed her skin in the past, cursed and hated and punished it - covered it and ravaged it, but now the paleness was more than melanin-deep. Smooth, unbroken, 'purity' - a mockery of the scars that adorned Remy's skin.
He had lived and bore the signs.
And she?
Rogue would give anything to be able to bleed at that moment. She'd only cut once, a morbid reminder of her own humanity, a pain to ground the chaos then numbness in her mind, but training had always left her bruised and exhausted - pain the only thing she could truly claim as her own, experience alone. And now it was gone.
The fabric of her shirt started to rip and she let go, wishing she could feel more than just the pressure of her fingers on her skin.
She leaned back to observe the stars, relishing the ability to be alone - or as alone as she ever could be now.
No one really got that, least of all Remy. They all tried to lure her out of her room, distract her with movies and food and games, try to smile and remind her of the joy of living, one I'll never get to experience again…
She was never alone. She was anti-social because the only way she could even pretend to be alone was outside of her own head.
The last few days were a haze - the last thing she clearly remembered was Essex gloating over her. The rest was a mesh that she simply couldn't sort through - overlapping nightmarish accounts of Essex's experimentation, fragmented emotions of terror and horror and illness and violation and pain and hurt. She barely remembered absorbing Carol - just fingers on her face and being unable to scream. After that, everything was either missing or distorted flashes of faces, places and motion.
Finally she'd awaken in New Orleans, with the Professor at her side, explaining what had happened, that Carol - that Carol was now -
Time-sharing?
Carol's voice always came in shades: disdain, boredom, sarcasm, anger, frustration - and she was far more vocal than any of the others. The others faded, drifted, overlaid her psyche - but not Carol.
Oh but that would mean I actually got some time as the owner.
Carol was always there.
Carol hadn't shared the specifics of what she'd agreed with Xavier, most likely simply to be contrary or exert what little power she had. Somehow, Carol's thoughts and emotions were separate from hers. They bled through, like the rest, but Carol could also shut off from Rogue, separate - a notion that made Rogue sick that she really did have someone trapped within her.
One of the few details she did have was from Carol's hissing of damn Cajun.
Remy.
Remy had been there, in her head.
She closed her eyes.
He wouldn't be joining her up here this time. Even if she dearly longed for the day he held her head in his lap, soothed all the chaos in her, covered her with his body to block out the rest of the world -
Carol turned away in disgust and Rogue swallowed thickly.
He couldn't do anything now, not with her skin uncontrolled and the sinking knowledge she no longer could trust herself. She couldn't, wouldn't risk have anyone join Carol.
Oh now you pledge.
It would only be a matter of time.
She had to give him some credit - he hadn't shown any indication of flinching around her, but that'd change. He didn't fear it at the moment, but he'd learn. Besides, he'd had her. He'd gotten past the challenge of her skin, even gotten her love, and now there was no compensation. He would retreat at night to a cold bed - and he couldn't face that for long. He craved touch like others craved caffeine. It would just be sex and it wouldn't mean much, if anything - but it would be him close to someone else in a way she couldn't be. And she couldn't begrudge him that.
Rogue wasn't foolish. She could see the guilt in his eyes, the blame he'd shouldered and his hopes for redemption that included her. But she couldn't keep him out of guilt.
She wished - but maybe love wouldn't even be enough. Not that it mattered.
Carol was quiet and Rogue couldn't help a grim smile.
She must be pitiable indeed if the blond couldn't summon up some derision.
Please, getting rid of that low-life is a step up.
Rogue rolled her eyes.
-
It was the first time he'd left the mansion since being back. Rogue had retreated to her room, making it clear she wanted to be left alone. After having everyone hovering over since she'd woken up, the flight back and her check-out in the Med Lab, he could scarcely blame her.
Blaming himself on the other hand…
He downed the shot, savoring the familiar burn. He'd up the alcohol level, but it'd end his night too quickly. He wanted the low, long slide into being dead drunk tonight.
He tapped the glass on the counter, catching the eye of the bartender, busy at the other end of the bar. He got a distracted nod in return - it wasn't his usual haunt or he'd be more friendly.
He heard the distinct thud of an adamantium weighed-down body next to him, but didn't bother to greet the other mutant.
The bartender approached, smoothly filling a mug with Wolverine's usual, before generously refilling Remy's drink.
"Still drinkin' dat Canadian pisse?"
"Better than sipping those runt glasses." Remy cracked a smile.
"What y' callin' a runt?" It was a weak crack, but he couldn't really offer anything stronger. He'd been keeping it together under Cyclops' judging gaze and all those damn whisperings (Didn't you hear? Sinister totally made Rogue go crazy…As if she had that far to go…Looks like she can't touch anymore - someone's going to get pretty lonely…If he did that to Rogue, what do you think he did to Gambit?…She and Belladonna totally got into a catfight over Gambit, I bet she tried to make him her love slave…How the hell did he get involved with a creep like Sinister in the first place…), but now his temples throbbed and he just couldn't muster up indolent humor.
He'd tried to retreat to Piotr's room, but he could only stand so many sympathetic looks - which left him with exactly one person who let him take the blame.
He slammed down the refill. Maybe slow wasn't going to work for him tonight after all.
"Decided ta get away from de happy couple?" Jean's brush with death had definitely shook up Scott and the engagement had just halved, leaving the couple knee-deep in wedding preparations.
Wolverine shuddered, though for reasons far different.
(So feral. She leaned close in, murmuring, her eyes seeming to flash in the light. Untamed - and yet you hold yourself back so much. I wonder… It was her scent though that had thrown him off the most. Something - alien and it made the hackles on his neck go up.)
He changed the subject abruptly. "Mind telling me why you were hoggin' the rec room tonight? I had at least four of the small fry complaining to me that the doors were locked - even though that room only locks during security lock-downs."
Remy gave a vague shrug. "Had some surveillance vid t' go over."
There was no video of Rogue getting picked up Sinister's Sentinel, shopping strip had only had one or two security cameras and they'd either been in the wrong position or destroyed in the fight. But there was footage of her getting picked up by a different Sentinel, shown on national television, another time he was to blame. And so he watched that video, on the biggest screen he could find, saw her frozen in green gel, immobilized, helpless as the metal giant took her away - once, twice, twenty, thirty times.
And they'd experimented on her then as well. None of the X-Men talked about that time; Cyclops had only ever once thrown the incident in his face and even that had simply been more about the fact they'd been publicly outed as mutants.
What had they done to her?
What had Sinister-
The thought made him sick to his stomach - and yet he couldn't throw up and assuage it. He could only sit and watch as the she was once again trapped, motionless -
And whose fault is that, diable?
His drink had been filled - he swallowed this one as well, letting it burn down his throat, his stomach churning. He could feel the tendrils of alcohol starting to have effect, but all too slowly.
He waved to the bartender. "Jus' bring Gambit de bottle, d'accord?"
He'd downed another shot before Wolverine spoke. "So that's the grand plan? Drink 'til you can't see straight?"
"Y' got a betta plan, runt?" Remy shot bitterly.
"Drownin' in guilt ain't going to get you anywhere." He snorted when Remy narrowed his eyes. "Ain't gonna feed you that touchy-feely crap; you're guilty as sin Cajun. But sitting here while Rogue's holding her own pity party sure ain't going to help."
"Pity party?" Remy slammed his glass on the counter. "She jus' got some connasse shoved inta her brain t'anks t' dat monstre Sinister, woke up wit' no touch, a different body an' new powas an' y' sayin' she havin' a pity party?!" He swore.
"It's a shitload of stuff to handle," Wolverine agreed. "All the more reason for her boyfriend to get off his ass and stop trying to get wasted."
Remy scowling, slouched in his seat. "Don't want Remy 'round."
"Since when has that stopped you?"
Remy fiddled with his glass.
"Rogue, she ain't jus' another femme," he muttered.
"If you thought otherwise, I'd've gutted you when you first lay a finger on her. Now, go an' cheer your girl up."
Their eyes met and Remy recognized it was the closest he was ever going to get to tacit approval to be with Rogue.
"Merci, mon ami."
Wolverine watched him leave, before finally letting his eyes roll. "'Bout time he had to work for her." And he could get back to his night at his bar without a mopey emo Cajun hanging about.
It was only when the bartender slipped him a bill that he realized Remy hadn't paid his tab.
He scowled.
Damn Cajun.
-
Well baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew ya
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
He was hoisting himself over the edge of the balcony when he heard her voice. "Got tired of usin' the door?"
Completing the motion, he landed in a crouch, managing to do so in time to see her swing unto the balcony from the side of the mansion.
"Can't help if I love t' make an entrance," he said back, the thought she'd gone up to their spot loosening a knot inside his chest. "An' don't look like y' f' doors right now, either."
She tossed her hair, assessing him with distant eyes. He stepped up to her, she turned and pulling the door open, walked into the room. He followed.
"Ah thought ah told yah ta give meh some time ta myself."
"'ccured to me dat even dough y' had enough hoverin' 'round and pokin' and proddin', weh could use some time alone. Ain't had any for awhile," he spoke casually, but kept his eyes trained on her. She still hadn't turned to face him, so he reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. She tensed on contact, turning on her heel to keep out of range.
"Ah don't think that's a good idea."
"Pourquoi?" She finally turned around, eyes narrowed.
"Don't play dumb down with meh Cajun. It ain't gonna work."
He grabbed her wrist - she tensed and when she resisted his tugs, he stepped up to her. "Who's playin' dumb, chere?" Her muscles were flexed, ready to run and he rubbed his thumb against her covered wrist. "Ain't nothin' changed."
Her eyes flashed and she broke away from him, letting herself hover so he had to look up to meet her eyes. She laughed harsh, the crack of a whip. "Nothin'?" she mocked.
"Nothin' important," he insisted, not showing a sign of intimidation and she sank back down to the floor. She couldn't stand to fly; he could feel it hover at the edges of her mind.
"Everything has changed," she murmured, suddenly sounding tired. "And we, Remy, gotta change to, non?"
"No," he disagreed, but she'd already turned her back to him.
"It's only a matter of time," she said and he could tell by the cadence of her voice, that she'd thought it before, probably more than once.
"No," he repeated again, starting to feel nauseous, the alcohol coating inside his insides threatening to tumble out. "We can-"
"Beat the odds?" she didn't turn, but he could hear the smile in her voice.
He felt wrong-footed. He never should've had that third shot, let alone the fourth. "Dere's more at touch than-"
She laughed again, but this time it was the sound of breaking. A breaking heart. He could hear the crackling, but to his muddled senses, he couldn't tell whose it was.
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah
"Ah know. You showed me that," her head dipped. "Thank you but-"
It was the but.
He'd let her go once, let himself walk out that door - and she'd been the one who came back. She'd come for him - and he'd be damned before he let her give up on them so easily this time.
He whirled her around, catching her off-guard, left hand on her shoulder and stepping into her. She was nose-to-chin with him and he knew that the only reason she didn't shake him off was her fear of hurting him.
Fear of hurting him - the thought almost made him laugh bitterly.
"Say you don't love me," he demanded, staring into her eyes, his grip tight. "Dat's why you want me to go. An' I will," his back teeth ground, but he said it anyway. Never let it be said Gambit didn't know how to gamble. "I'll leave you alone. But I ain't about to leave because y' too afraid ta let me stay."
Her lashes fluttered. Her mouth opened and then closed. He pushed her into his embrace, nose in her hair, and very, very slowly the tension drained for her body and she let him embrace her.
She did not hug him back.
She was too afraid of hurting him - and he laughed inwardly at the irony.
-
Well maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who'd out drew ya
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen in the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Tell me you trust me.
I don't know if I can.
Tell me I can trust myself.
I don't know if you can.
Tell me to trust in us.
I can't.