MAGNETIC ATTRACTION

Part Fourteen

Remy LeBeau did not sleep a wink. As he lay in bed, looking up at ceiling, all he could think about were the events of the past twenty-four hours. He'd had more ups and downs in twenty-four hours than he was sure he may have had in an entire year.

He summarized everything that had occurred; weird dreams about Rogue, sleeping in for training, the breakfast with Rogue and then his almost violent escapade with Wanda. The final leg of that entire journey of events? Wanda's revelation that she cared for him, that she couldn't be without him.

He kept asking himself why would she ever care for him (or why for that matter anyone would care for him given his recent behaviour). He'd never given her the slightest indication he would ever care for her, and it wasn't as if he'd ever made any effort to even be remotely nice to her other than a few outstandingly exquisitely performed sexual acts.

When sleep would not come, he paced, first across the small area in his room until he could no longer stand to look at the place, and then he paced to the kitchen to look for food. There was nothing remotely interesting to eat other than cereal, and he wasn't in the mood for it – besides which, he realised that he wasn't even that hungry. Even if I tried to eat, doubt I'd keep it down right now, he thought unhappily, feeling slightly sick.

At two in the morning, he lay across the couch in the living room area and watched television, not really being able to pay attention to any of it. By three, he was chipping gathered ice out of the freezer due to sheer boredom. When Four came, he worked on sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups. By five am, he'd wandered back and forth over the warehouse so many times he was sure he must have worn some of the cement floors down.

He went to the balcony on the third floor catwalk to get some air (rather than move the large and noisy doors to the main yard), and stood there in the rain for a little while, smoking a cigarette, the collar of his trench coat flicked up to try and prevent the rain sliding down his neck. The rain had been heavy since yesterday; it'd never let up. The weather app on his phone told him that it was expected to last for days.

It was a typical Bayville autumn, wet, cold and miserable. He felt that might have been a metaphor for himself right now, as he was already soaked, shivering, and definitely miserable. As he put out his cigarette, he turned briefly and noticed Rogue's window was open, and her light was on. He wondered if she were already awake.

I should wake her up for training, he thought, remembering the issues with their set alarms the morning before. He stepped inside, slipped his trench coat off and hung it over the rail of the catwalk. He moved to Rogue's door and gave a very small knock, and asked if she was awake.

There was no answer. He invited himself in anyway, deciding that she wouldn't mind seeing as she definitely didn't sleep in the nude as far as he knew.

She's too much of a good girl for that, he thought. It was just another of the many things he found himself comparing between Wanda and Rogue as of late. Quietly he slipped in, closing the door behind himself hoping no one had seen him enter her bedroom. The last thing he wanted was a rumour spreading and getting back to Wanda.

I don't need that kind of drama in my life right now, he thought. Not that there's anythin' remotely wrong goin' on here anyway.

Rogue was stretched out on her bed over the covers, still dressed from the night before. An array of college books spread out across the black satin bedspread. Remy stood, looking at her as she slept. Her hair was draped across her face, and one leg was hanging off the bed entirely, the sock attached to her foot had nearly come off entirely. Her bare hand held on lightly to the book she'd fallen asleep reading.

He moved aside some of her books and sat on the end of her bed, watching her, wondering if in her sleep she might feel his presence and wake up. She didn't. She slept soundly, her breathing even and calm. He reached over and delicately – with great care not to touch her skin – brushed the hair that had fallen over her face. She'd fallen asleep in her makeup again, and it had smudged under her eyes slightly.

Was she dreaming? He wondered what she might dream about...did she dream about the day she might finally have control over her poisonous skin? Did she dream about Scott Summers?

Remy picked up one of her books and flicked through the pages, understanding very little of it. It was very rare he ever felt regretful that he'd left halfway through his high school education to pursue his life of crime, but as of late he'd found himself occasionally wondering how different things could have been if he hadn't.

His eyes spied a small clock on her dresser, showing that it was five thirty am. Whether he wanted to or not, he'd have to wake her. At least he could ensure that there were no repeats of yesterday.

"Rogue," he said in a soft murmur.

Rogue gave a vague groan in her sleep, she stirred slightly but did not awaken.

"Chere..." he spoke softly, he put his hand upon her side and shook her gently.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with confusion. She glanced around her room, eyes blinking, she looked at the books and sighed, realising she'd fallen asleep. "What time is it?"

"Five thirty," he answered, almost in a lulling whisper, so as not to give her too much of a rude awakening. "Thought I should maybe come wake you up myself, just to be sure you got up...I didn't want Magneto to have a reason to be mad a second day in a row."

"It's fine," she rubbed the back of her neck.

"It's rainin' out. The course is gonna be a mess today. If you have anything waterproof, I'd say wear it."

"Ah don't have anything like that..." Rogue sighed rubbing the sleep crusts from her eyes.

"I'm gonna speak to Magneto about uniforms later today. We'll eventually need safe gear to wear out in the field, and right now, you, Tabitha, and Wanda have nothing even remotely suitable for out there. Why didn't you bring that black catsuit with the pauldrons and the chest guard? That would have been perfect."

"That's X-Men property," Rogue responded, "Ah didn't think it was appropriate to take it and wear it here."

"I guess not," Remy responded. He supposed she was right; it would be too much of a reminder for her about a team she no longer participated in.

"You look like shit, by the way," Rogue commented, "did you even go to bed last night?" she asked with a yawn.

He gave a little yawn too, almost positive that yawns were more contagious than herpes at an orgy. "I've been up all night. Couldn't sleep, I guess."

Rogue stood up slowly, and stretched a little, "Why not?"

He wished he could explain why not. Instead, he had to lie. "Just insomnia. Hits me from time to time."

"Ah see," said Rogue, she opened her dresser and searched for something appropriate to wear. "Ah'm really running out of clean clothes..." she grumbled.

"You should do your laundry," Remy responded; he wished he hadn't spoken. His mind raced back to thrusting himself into Wanda Maximoff against a juddering washing machine. His cheeks grew hot just thinking of it. As pleasurable as it had been, he never wanted to go to that place again.

"Ah'll get to it when Ah find time," Rogue assured, "okay, you gonna leave so Ah can get changed?"

"Hmm...do I get to choose?" he cracked, although the joke left him feeling as empty and fake as the smirk he offered her.

"No."

"All right," he stood up. Just as he had reached her door. "Chere...can I ask you a favour?"

"Hmm?"

"If...by any chance you do happen to do a laundry..." he began. "Any chance you might...uh...throw mines in there too?" he asked hopefully. He didn't like the thought of having to step into that room any time soon. He didn't want to be reminded of the horrible person he had become in there, and he definitely didn't want to happen in on Wanda in that room again either for that matter.

Rogue, still half asleep it seemed, stared at him confusedly, "You want...me...to do your laundry? You're serious? Ah'm not your slave, Remy."

"I know that, I'm not sayin' you should do it because you're a woman and laundry is a woman's job..." he explained, "it's just...I never find much time...I'm always doin' somethin' round here," Remy admitted, "call it favour...I'll repay it later, I promise. Anythin' you want me to do, I'll do it. If it's your turn to clean the toilets, I'll do it no questions asked."

"If...you like," Rogue shrugged. "Leave it in the laundry room in a basket or somethin' and Ah'll do it."

"Can't you just grab it from my room on your way down? My room is like two doors away..." he reminded.

"Okay..." she responded, seeming utterly mystified.

"Thanks, chere, "see you at the obstacle course."

Something was wrong with Remy LeBeau.

Rogue couldn't place it exactly, but something was definitely up. She'd been there with him, and the rest of the team, as they all together tried to work to get to the other side facing the challenge of the rain. Slipping and sliding on mud banks had been hard enough, but this time Magneto had participated by throwing hollow balls of metal at them using his powers. She'd watched ball after ball hit him, as he slipped clumsily in the mud and fell.

Rogue just couldn't understand it; Remy LeBeau was normally so practised, so precise, so quick, and flawless.

This morning, he was just hopeless.

He seemed unable to concentrate properly, and it was showing. When the training session had ended, she had tried asking him if everything was okay, to which he had replied through gritted teeth that he was fine. She'd left it at that. As much as she wanted to make sure he was all right she just didn't have time, she still had to get showered, and ready for class.

Thoughts of Remy stayed with her the whole day; she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that really bothered her about it. Just that something was obviously wrong, because he had never been that careless, or looked that worn out before.

He's spending too much time at the warehouse. He needs to get out more...he needs some time away, some time to get the stress off his back. He definitely needs a break, Rogue decided as she left her final class of the day. When a guy doesn't even have the time to wash his own skivvies, then he is way too overworked.

She thought briefly of asking him perhaps if he'd like to go out for a burger, or perhaps a coffee. Something to act as a distraction. He was a different person when it was just the two of them. It was as if the cold, determined and hard person that he showed the others seemed to wane into the Remy LeBeau she'd known before the minute they got away from that place.

Yeah...I definitely should ask him to get out for a little while, before he cracks.

It occurred to her that before she ask anything of Remy, she had to deal with Magneto first. He'd asked to see her today.

Rogue couldn't deny she was slightly excited as she drove home. Going to see Magneto today was the beginning of what hopefully would be the solution to all her problems with her powers. It was the proper starting point, the promise of something. It was the first time she'd had anything to feel even remotely enthusiastic about in some time.

The rain was still pouring as she arrived back at the warehouse. She noted Piotr's van was gone from the yard, which more than likely meant he and Remy had both gone out to get more supplies for the building project of the gymnasium and the training area.

As she stepped into the warehouse, she saw that Lance and Pietro were arguing over the measurement of a piece of wood for the project; as she entered, she both noted they glanced over at her.

"Hey," she said, trying to be as civil as possible despite seeing eye to eye with either of them.

"Yeah, hi," mumbled Pietro, looking back down at the piece of wood. At least, for now, he'd chosen to be civil too.

"Is...uhm...Magneto in?" she asked, glancing towards the office door.

"Far as I know," said Pietro, he raised his cool eyes to her, "he's been in there all day doing something. I don't know."

"Thanks," Rogue responded quietly; she dropped her book bag and began the walk to the office door slowly.

"Hey, Rogue," Lance called; he began to jog slowly over to her, and met her at the door.

Blinking, she stopped short of putting her hand up to knock at the door, and turned to look at him, "what?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Got a question...about Kitty..."

"Okay..."

"Her birthday is on Monday...I need to get her something, but...I don't know what."

"Oh," said Rogue.

"Got...any ideas?" Lance asked hopefully.

"Ah don't know...you're her boyfriend..." Rogue pointed out.

"Geez, fine if you're going to be like that-" said Lance, getting irritated.

"No, all Ah mean is...you probably know her better than Ah do."

"Not really. You shared a room with her, right? You've lived with her for a few years now? You must know the kind of things she likes..."

Rogue paused to think. She thought about telling him to go to hell, that she wasn't interested in helping him score points with Kitty, especially since Lance would have never made any attempt to even be civil with her at any other point. Then again, she realised it'd be much easier to just help him and try to be civil.

"Come on..." pleaded Lance, "I know you must have an idea?"

"Ah would need some time to think..." Rogue responded. "Ah'll get back to you on that...Ah have some other stuff to take care of. And you have 'til Sunday at least."

"Okay, fine," Lance responded, looking a little deflated. "I'll ask you later."

Still a little surprised that Lance had bothered at all to ask her for her advice on the matter, Rogue recomposed herself, and knocked on the door of Magneto's office room. He responded that she should enter, and she stepped through.

The room looked somewhat different. Although it was a reasonably large room already, he'd decided to make it more spacious for some reason, by arranging the u-shaped desk set up he'd had into an L shaped desk situation against the two corner walls at the back, where his bedroom area was, and the bed had been shifted closer to the wall.

He stepped through the chain curtains from the bedroom area, his hair seemed slightly out of place as if he had been sleeping.

"You asked to see me after class," Rogue responded as she closed the door behind herself.

"Yes," said Magneto, he waved a hand and one of the metal framed chairs in the room swept it's way across the floor and came up beside her. "Please sit. And roll up your sleeve."

Uneasily, Rogue did as she was told, while he used his powers to summon over a metal tray and another chair. He sat opposite her as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"Are you squeamish about needles?" he asked of her, his tone cool and lulling.

"Not really," she answered.

He gently took her arm and rested her knuckles against his knee then went about taking a blood sample with a prepared syringe. Rogue wondered where it was that he'd even gotten those supplies. Probably stolen, she'd wager.

It impressed her that she did not feel when he inserted the needle into her vein. She'd have never expected Magneto to have such an incredibly gentle touch. "Wow..." she said, without meaning to.

"Hmm?" he asked of her, his eyes on what he was doing.

"Ah didn't even feel that."

Magneto smiled a little, a genuine, somewhat warm smile as he seemed to be thinking of something momentarily. "When I was a medical student I had to eventually take blood from a patient for the first time as part of my training. I was so nervous, I accidentally snapped the needle in her arm."

Rogue listened, interested.

"Blood spurted out onto my coat, the patient – already quite afraid of needles – nearly fainted. It took some time to extract the other part of the needle, which had embedded itself in the vein. For a time after, my hands would shake every time I had to complete the procedure, I was so afraid of repeating the same mistake again and again."

"But you got over it," Rogue stated.

"After a lot of work," Magneto explained, "I volunteered to help with blood donation drives, I gave vaccinations to infants during pandemics, and I would practice on cadavers."

Rogue found this quite fascinating. She'd never really had Magneto speak to her like this on such a personal level. It almost made her feel slightly less nervous about letting the man take blood from her. Right now, his taking blood from her wasn't only what was causing her nervousness. He had the sleeves to his shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his arms were incredibly bare and so close to hers. One false move would have been all it would take to brush his skin against hers.

One tiny little mistake, and Ah would drain him. He'd never even know what hit him, she thought dully as she watched the dark red blood being drawn into a vial.

It occurred to her that if she really wanted to know if he intended to help her sincerely, all it would take is for her to push her arm forwards towards his and she'd learn all she needed to. Would he be fast enough to pull away? Would he expect her to do something like that.

Curiously she shifted very slightly her arm with the needle still in it slightly upwards a little, just to see if he was going to flinch his arm away. He did not flinch, nor did he seem to really notice the movement as he was too invested in the drawing of her plasma. An odd tingling sensation caught her attention, it almost reminded her of the feeling of static electricity. She shivered a little.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"Just a weird feeling," she shook her head.

"Oh?" he stopped, "What kind of feeling? From where? The area of the needle? Is it a numbness or pain?" he asked seriously, almost looking concerned.

"No...Ah think it's from you...maybe your shirt or something...reminds me of static electricity...it...tingles."

"It's the field around me to prevent things from being drawn to me unintentionally," Magneto explained calmly.

"Ohh," said Rogue.

Magneto removed the needle and placed a ball of cotton against the mark before making her lift her arm to keep it pressed there.

Rogue wondered if it could be that her powers worked in a similar way. "Is that what Ah do?" she asked aloud. "Are my powers around me like a field? Could it be controlled the same way you control that?"

"Unsure," Magneto simply stated, "I would need to do a lot more research. I may need to see your powers in action to witness for myself what the process is."

"But that'd mean someone getting hurt."

"You did say you would do whatever it took," Magneto reminded, "besides, we would just need to find someone who was willing to be absorbed. Perhaps Colossus...he has a very strong constitution, and would most likely be able to withstand more punishment than the others."

Rogue didn't like the idea of having anyone be a guinea pig for the experiments Magneto seemed to be thinking up in his mind. The thought of anyone having to suffer so she could learn to control her abilities did not sit well with her at all.

"I'd like you to run this around the inside of your cheek," he held out a stick with a small ball of cotton on the end of it.

Rogue did so, and handed him the sample which he put into a sterile bag and dumped on the tray beside the blood vial. "Is that all you need?"

"That is all," he replied, "let me see the needle mark."

Rogue released her arm and he removed the ball of cotton. It'd left a little smear of blood, but it no longer seemed to be bleeding. She watched as he gently cleaned the blood up with a disinfected wipe.

Then something quite astounding happened.

It happened so quickly that she was almost unaware of it until a moment later. As Magneto had been carefully putting a band-aid onto her arm, she felt him touch her. His arm had definitely brushed so very briefly against her own; she would have thought she'd imagined it if it had not come with the same familiar tingling sensation as before.

The rush of memories, of thoughts, and disjointed feelings should have immediately came to her like a burst of flashing images and whirling in her head. But nothing did.

She raised her head to look across at him in confusion and alarm, and he looked back at her, his expression serene, but knowing. And somehow, without having absorbed any memories, she understood right away...he had done that deliberately.

Still in alarm, and feeling somehow almost betrayed, she yanked her arm away from him and held it close to her, looking at him in complete shock. Her heart had suddenly began thumping hard in her chest as if someone had just jumped out at her and said 'boo'. She couldn't explain why this made her feel suddenly quite vulnerable and scared.

Magneto seemed to be waiting for her to say something, and when she didn't, he finally asked, "is something the matter?"

"You...you...know what's the matter..." she looked down at her bare arm, wondering if perhaps he had put something on her before doing that, if this was some kind of strange trick. But she'd felt no application of anything other than the tiny band-aid, and the definite brush of the soft almost silky underside of his arm against the side of hers. "How did you do that?" she demanded.

Magneto pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them into a nearby bin, "The matter would need more investigation before I could pinpoint exactly why that experiment worked. I can only assume that my magnetic field interrupted your abilities..."

Rogue shook her head, "but how? Ah mean...Ah felt your skin...Ah didn't feel any...field..."

"The field is thin, Rogue. Thinner than air, of course you wouldn't feel it."

"How did you know you wouldn't be absorbed?"

"I didn't," Magneto responded, "I simply took a risk in order to learn a valuable lesson."

"Maybe it was a fluke," Rogue responded, "Ah know that sometimes if Ah touch people really fast...Ah barely absorb them at all. Maybe Ah did absorb something, but it went by too fast for either of us to notice?"

Magneto held out his bare hand to her, "if you would like to check," he offered.

Rogue looked down at his hand and chewed her lip. "What if it doesn't work this time...what if Ah absorb you? What if your powers drive me insane and Ah end up tearin' the room up?"

"You agreed that you would work with me on testing and exploring your powers further before we put you through the evolution process," Magneto reminded. "You may, in the end, discover that your powers are controllable, Rogue."

She looked down at her gloved hands before staring at his bare hands, "it's...it's too much of a risk...all this time, everyone Ah've ever touched has been hurt. Maybe it was the sleeve of your shirt Ah felt..." she reasoned.

"I felt it too, Rogue. There's no mistaking it. My skin touched yours, and I am unharmed."

"But..." Rogue met his cool blue eyes, feeling close to tears, unsure why.

"Rogue..." he said softly, "you can do this."

"But..." she tried again, unsure what it was she was really trying to say.

"Look," he offered, and reached across to sweep the backs of his fingers against her left cheek, down to her chin and then across to her right cheek in one, slow, easy motion which was so light, and so tender, it caught her by surprise.

The touch lasted more than eight seconds; she couldn't believe she'd counted them. When he took his hand away, she put her gloved hands to her face and sobbed into them, a burst of emotion seemed to erupt from nowhere.

Rogue had spent years being caged in poisonous skin, never knowing what the touch of another truly felt like. Whenever she touched anyone, all she felt was the firmness of the flesh, but not the texture, not the warmth, just the hardness and sensation of her powers drawing the life away from another.

And now...she'd felt something. Magneto's skin was softer, and far warmer than she'd have given credit for, and that she'd felt it...felt the flesh of another, been able to connect for just eight seconds...it had been the most overwhelming experience in her life she'd had since the discovery of her powers.

"Are you all right?" asked Magneto softly.

She was unable to answer, she sobbed into her hands, sitting there, feeling foolish, and elated, and miserable, and hopeful, all at the same time. To her surprise, she felt him put his hand against her hair, and he spoke softly to her, reassuringly.

"I will find a way to help you, Rogue. I will."

Remy LeBeau had been standing staring at a display of screws, nuts, bolts and fixings in the hardware store for ten minutes. He still had not quite managed to find what it was he was looking for. He supposed if he'd been thinking a little less of his dilemma with Wanda, and more of the task at hand, he'd have actually found it by now as opposed to staring blankly at the display.

It had been a horrible day. The training session had made him look a fool; the mud had done nothing to help him get across the obstacle course, and even his own changes had fooled him into getting trapped once. Being hit with Magneto's hollow metal spheres had only left him feeling as bruised as his ego was beginning to feel. He was quite aware the others had noticed how incredibly inept he'd been today.

From the moment he'd met everyone in his team, he'd been striving to never show any ineptitude; everything about what he did on and off the field was precise, practised and absolutely – as far as he was concerned anyway – perfect.

I'm going to have to try harder tomorrow, or they're going to lose all respect for me, he realised dully. It did occur to him that his inability to concentrate at training had been his own fault ultimately. He'd somehow unintentionally led on Wanda, and now he had to deal with the consequences; either be with her, and be unhappy, or not be with her, and leave her unhappy, with powers that were barely in check enough already, and a mind that was as cracked as a boiled egg at breakfast.

It wasn't the aspect of turning her powers against him and the others that bothered him, as much as the thought that she might harm herself. She'd never shown any suicidal tendencies before to him, although she did seem to have a liking for pain judging by the piercings and the way she liked it when he was rough with her during their time together.

Would she harm herself? He realised the problem there was that he didn't know her well enough to be certain that she wouldn't.

Perhaps there's something to that, he wondered. All this time, and I don't know her well enough to know if she's serious that what we do together is the only thing worth living for.

"Did you find screw?"

Remy turned to see Piotr approaching. Piotr was pushing a large cart filled with the necessary supplies for the gymnasium project. He was strong enough that even a cart full of heavy power tools and heavy wooden beams posed no problem.

Turning back to the display, Remy gave a sigh, "No. I just don't see them. I don't think they have them," Remy gave a sigh as he turned back to the display.

"You look tired," said Piotr sympathetically before his eyes fell beyond Remy; he reached over Remy's shoulder and grabbed a large bag of screws from the display, "this is it, no?"

Remy groaned, it'd been there in front of him the entire time. He must have looked at it more than six times judging by how many times he'd been back and forth looking at the display. How could he have not seen them? It must have been only three feet in front of his very eyes. "Fuck," he mumbled.

"Is not like you to not see what is in front of you," Piotr remarked, quite astutely, "What is wrong with you today?" he tossed the screws into the cart and went about pushing it. Remy moved to walk at his side.

"Just tired. It's been a crazy week," Remy reminded, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat and lazily sauntered along.

"You spend too much time at warehouse. If you are not building obstacle course, you are building warehouse. You find no time for anything else," Piotr admitted.

Not true, thought Remy tiredly, I find plenty time for sex. That's why I'm practically being emotionally blackmailed.

"You should take day off," announced Piotr; Remy wished he had the optimism to believe it were all that simple.

"I wish I could," Remy admitted, "But...it's not that easy. I'm the leader now, and the leader doesn't get a day off."

"I speak with Magneto, ask him to let you have day off," offered Piotr enthusiastically.

"That's a nice offer, Pete, but you should just worry about yourself. Don't fret about me, I'll be fine. Besides. Magneto would only take that as a sign I can't do this."

"What would happen then?"

"I don't know," Remy responded. "All I know is, he doesn't like signs of weakness. I can't show any now."

"Being tired is not a weakness, it is human need for rest," Piotr objected. "He would see that you are doing a good job and that you should take time to rest."

Remy doubted he was doing a good job, or that Magneto would encourage him to take a day off. All the same, even speaking briefly about the situation with Piotr made him feel slightly better. He tipped himself to nudge the larger boy in the arm with his shoulder, "you're a good guy, Pete. Don't ever let Magneto or the rest of the Acolytes ever knock that out of you."

"You are good guy too. You just like to think you are not."

"No, I pretty much know I'm not a good guy, Pete. If I was, I'd sleep a hell of a lot better at nights."

"Why are you not sleeping?" Piotr asked, he stopped at the next aisle to pick up the next item on their list.

"Idiocy, most likely," Remy responded, he could tell by expression on the boy's face that he didn't quite understand the answer. He didn't feel the need to elaborate, and thankfully, Piotr didn't seem to feel the need to press the issue further.

Remy heard the ping of his phone as a text message was received. He took it out to check the message and sighed to see it was from Wanda's number. He read the text. It said 'call me'.

"Something wrong?" asked Piotr, stopping.

"Nothin," said Remy. "We got everythin' on that list yet?"

"Just a few more things," Piotr held the list out and glanced over them, "We need this...what is this thing? Ankle biter?"

"Huh?" Remy asked, he leaned over to look at the list, "no...that's Angle Grinder," he explained. "Sorry, that's Magneto's writing. He has that typical doctor type handwriting...sometimes can't make head nor tail of it."

"What is this angle grinder?" the large boy asked curiously.

"Uhm...I don't know what they might call it in Russian..." Remy paused, trying to think. "Storony mjasorubki?" he asked.

Piotr stared at him blankly. "Your Russian is poor."

"I only spent two weeks in St. Petersberg trying to steal a rare sniper rifle from the son of an ex-KGB officer, I was hardly going to learn the entire language while I was there," Remy shrugged.

"I still do not know what this angle grinder is..."

"For cutting stone...or metal...big machine..." Remy thought, "sometimes they call it a disc grinder or a side grinder. It looks like a big ass drill, but with the handle at the wrong end, and a slot for a disc at the side."

"I will go find."

"We need discs too for it. Make sure they're the right size, mind."

"I will ask staff," Piotr responded.

"Okay, uhm...you mind if I go make a phone call?" Remy asked.

"I will get things, you make phonecall, we meet outside," Piotr assured.

"Okay," Remy reached into his pocket with the envelope of money Magneto had given him for the supplies "here's the cash. Don't let them try to scam you out of paying more."

"I won't," Piotr said, a slight roll of his eyes and a smile.

"Watch them scan everything, keep an eye on the numbers on the register," Remy instructed before he slipped outside to make his phone call. He stood beneath the awning of the store, lighting a cigarette before he dialled Wanda's number. She picked up immediately.

"Hey!"

"What's up?" he asked with a sigh, he put the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag.

"Where are you?"

"At the hardware store. Had to get more stuff for the building project. What's wrong?"

"We haven't spoken since last night, you said you'd sleep on it...and then never got back to me," Wanda said, sounding angry and upset.

"Wanda, you know I've been busting my ass all day, I haven't had time to stop and chit-chat. God, I've barely had time to piss today."

"We need to talk about this, Remy."

He groaned, "Wanda...I'm so tired. Can't we talk later?"

"No! I want to talk about this now!"

"Now is not the time," he took yet another drag of the cigarettes, hoping for the nicotine to kick in quickly before his nerves got much more shot.

"Just tell me if you even give a shit about me!" Wanda demanded.

Remy responded quickly; he knew he didn't have the time to pause and think about the answer. "Of course I give a shit about you," he responded. In truth, yes, he supposed he did care about her, in an odd, and vague way. But did he care about her enough to be with her in a more romantic way? No, he wasn't sure he did.

You need to make a decision now, Remy. Figure out a solution, or at least something that's gonna get her off your back for now, he thought. "Wanda...listen...I'm gonna be home in about an hour. I'll come talk to you then...and we'll figure this out then. But I'm not gonna do this over the phone."

"Fine. I'll see you in an hour."

"Yes. You will."

End of part Fourteen

So glad to see that there wasn't a lot of backlash over the previous chapter (was very nervous about uploading that due to the graphic nature and the likelihood of people finding Remy waaaaaaaaay out of character, lol). Thanks for all the kind reviews, hope you enjoyed this one! 3