Title: The House of the Rising Sun, Chapter 1
Author: Goddess Evie
Date: October 15, 2002
Genre: Romance (Remy/Rogue, Scott/Jean, Lance/Kitty), Action, Drama, Angst, AU, heck, it's got it all…just not all in this chapter-prologue thingie. ^_^
Rating: G, and I really don't think this'll get above PG.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own X-Men of any incarnation. I am but a poor, fanatical, poor, college student who much enjoys a show so that she writes extensive (and hopefully intriguing, enjoyable, and highly popular) fanfiction to feed her insatiable hunger for anything X-Men and is poor, if I haven't mentioned that already. Also, the song lyric I use as the optional title doesn't belong to me either. I'm quoting the song "Path of Thorns (In the Terms of Endearment)" by Sarah McLachlan, my absolute favorite-est artist in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD!!! But, sadly, I own nothing but the plot so don't sue me cause I can't even pay for college! WAAAAH!
Summary: Let's finally get into the real action. A clip from the Institute, and who is going where? And *gasp* Remy and Rogue meet, and have a rumble with the Brotherhood.
Author's Note: Well, here we go, hold on everybody. Lot's happens in this chapter, and it's only the first one! I promise it'll slow down after this, for the most part. Although, that's probably the last thing you all want to happen. Part of the reason it's so long is because I take a little time to do a run down of the Mutants at the Institute at present (Plus Scott) and that takes a little while. But, hey, it's a chance for us all to get to know our lovable X-Men (not that we already didn't, right?). Still, I make up for it, I hope, with the fight scene. So, read on, faithful ficcer!
Chapter 1: "I knew you wanted to tell me. In your voice there was something wrong."
It was a fine day for traveling. The sun was shining and the clouds in the sky were the white fluffy kind used for imagining shapes in. There was a slight breeze that kept the August heat at bay and the smells of summer flowers permeated the air. Scott Summers stood by the open trunk of his red sports car convertible as Kurt Wagner and Evan Daniels loaded his luggage into it in the spacious circular driveway in front of the mansion-esque School for the Gifted in Bayville, New York.
"Zhere, zhat jould do eet," Kurt smiled proudly as he stood back from the now full trunk and dusted his hands satisfactorily.
"You're all ready to go, Scott," Evan's grin was just as proud as he slammed the trunk closed.
"You guys seem a little eager to see me leave," Scott joked, putting on a grin to match theirs.
"Sure, it'll be a fight to see who gets your room," Evan teased back with a wink.
"Scott's room will stay just the way it is…for when he visits," Professor Xavier cut into the banter.
"Thanks Professor," Scott smiled at the school's founder.
"We will miss you, Scott," Charles tone turned sincere.
"I'm still not sure I should be leaving the school," Scott admitted.
"Go, Scott. The school can handle itself without you for a while. And you need to do this, for the school, and more importantly, for yourself," Xavier explained gently, even though he and Scott had already been through this same discussion at least half a dozen times.
"But who'll lead the team?" Scott continued to protest.
"There are others who need a chance to take charge for once. You have led them well, Scott, but now it's time for you to hand the reigns over to someone else," Xavier reminded.
"Ja, like me!" Kurt interjected cheerily.
Scott laughed at the grin on his friend's face, then rubbed the back of his head as he looked around at the school and the students gathered to see him go, feeling sheepish. Kurt and Evan, Kitty and Jubilee, Amara, Bobby even little Jaime. And most importantly, Jean, who was standing just behind the Professor, silently giving him that smile of hers that he loved so much.
*The only one not here is Rogue,* the thought caused the guilt to start spreading, but he pushed it back with a vengeance. Now was not the time for such things. He'd have plenty of time to brood on the road.
"You guys take care of the Professor and Ororo and Hank," Scott raised his voice to address the mob of students.
His joke elicited a light chuckle from the crowd, and then everyone was lining up to say their last farewells to him before he was off. Hugs, high five's and wishes of well being took up the next five minutes. Hank and Ororo were there, even, reaching through the mob of students to impart some last minute words of wisdom to him. Finally, the end of the line came. It would just have to be Jean.
"Is this really goodbye?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her beautiful mouth.
"Nah, I'll be back," he assured, grinning at her to hide the fact that he really wanted to cry.
"Good, cause I'd miss you too much if you didn't," with that she reached up and pulled him into a tight hug.
He held onto her for as long as she'd allow. Then, finally, after she'd pulled away and slipped back into her place behind the Professor, Scott opened the driver side door and got in. Evan and Kurt were there to close it for him, still wearing the same grins they had earlier.
"Why do I get the feeling that you two are up to something," Scott said, giving them a suspicious gaze.
"Uz, up to zomesing?" Kurt asked naively, putting on the innocent look.
"C'mon, Scott, this is your big day. You don't think we'd do anything to ruin that, do ya?" Evan added, wearing an expression of mock personal offense.
Scott didn't reply, but he let the boys know how he felt with the look he gave them. The boys stepped away as one and finally, with many cautions to "drive safely", Scott ignited the engine and took off. Once he reached the gate, he keyed in the code to open it and, while waiting for it to do so, looked back over his shoulder at the place he was leaving. Many of the students were waving to him, and he waved back obligingly.
But he really only had eyes for Jean, still standing right behind Xavier's wheel chair. She wasn't waving like the others, but her gaze seemed to be intent on him.
Knowing he couldn't put the off the inevitable any longer, Scott turned forward again and pressed the gas. Just as his car cleared the gates and they began to swing closed, he heard a voice in his head, so soft, so comforting.
"Good luck, Scott. I'll miss you."
He didn't have to look to know who it was; not that looking would give any indication. And he didn't miss the singular pronoun that she had used. "I'll" not "we'll". Making the message repeat itself in his mind in her voice, Scott started his journey happier than he thought he would.
It was in the early hours of the morning that Rogue finally spotted civilization, and by the amount of lights that sparkled in the twilight darkness, it was a very big civilization. Shifting Ms. Marvel's weight, she thought at the as yet unconscious woman as if she were telepathic and her passenger could hear her.
*Almost there. It won't be long now.*
Of course, the woman gave no response, and Rogue didn't expect one. Still, she wished she would wake up, or show some sign that she was okay, or would be okay. But the only movement Rogue had seen of her had been involuntary from when Rogue shifted her. After the long hours of flying with her in tow, she was beginning to feel more and more like a dead weight.
Of course, that had been another thing on Rogue's mind. Previously, the longest Rogue had ever possessed another's Mutant Abilities had been two hours at the max. But it had to be at least eight hours since the incident at the plane, and still Rogue was flying as solidly as she had at the beginning. Her above average strength had also remained and Rogue had to admit that though she did think of Carol as a dead weight, it was an extremely light dead weight.
When Rogue found herself finally flying over the city, the first thing she did was search diligently to find a hospital. That proved to be not too difficult as she spotted a structure that, with many buildings clustered around it and a helicopter-landing pad atop the tallest one, could only be what she was looking for. Allowing herself to fly lower to where she and Ms. Marvel were just barely skimming above rooftops as they headed for their set destination, Rogue breathed a sigh of relief.
With her mind racing through options, Rogue finally descended to the ground with her load. She aimed for a copse of bushes that had taken over one corner of the largest building that helped to constitute the hospital. Her landing was rough, she'd never had to land before, but not a total disaster and she did her best to keep her passenger safe.
Rogue took a moment to breath, check Danvers over and then scope out the surrounding area. When she saw that no one was looking, she slipped out of the bushes and, although her attire was far from normal, tried to act as if she belonged. It wasn't really that difficult in the early hours of morning when people were still scarce. The most prominent figures tended to be medical staff, and though some of them gave her funny looks, most kept to their own business, or were too busy with their own agenda to give her any attention. Ms. Marvel would be fine, she assured herself, lying on the ground in the cover of the bushes, until Rogue decided on a plan of action.
A plan came more quickly to Rogue than she expected when she turned the corner and found the entrance to the ER. Wasting no time, Rogue quickly returned to where she had left Carol Danvers. Gathering the woman up once again, she waited until the coast was clear then quickly made her way back to the ER entrance. In one instant, Rogue decided the best way to handle the situation was to just leave the woman lying on the ground. She felt a little guilty at not sticking around, but she knew she'd have trouble trying to explain what had happened. And with all the medical staff bustling about, someone was sure to come upon Ms. Marvel in no time.
With one last apologetic glance to the woman, Rogue willed herself to walk away.
*Don't look back, * she goaded herself. *Just keep going. You've done all you can for her. She's in good hands, now.*
Rogue turned her attentions to her now more immediate needs. She was hungry and thirsty; she really could use some new clothes, something normal, perhaps.
"And mebbe Ah should find out where Ah am," she muttered to herself.
That last objective wasn't hard to accomplish. As she walked through the city she saw plenty of signs advertising the fact that she was in New Orleans. That helped to explain why her style of dress hadn't elicited more of a response than she thought it would. These people probably saw weirder things than a girl wearing a cat suit.
Since Rogue really didn't have any idea of where to go or not to go, she just let herself wander around the city, making turns and taking roads as she pleased. New Orleans was a big metropolis, but having lived near and frequently visited the big cities of the New England states with the X-men, Rogue was already used to big. At the same time, having never been to New Orleans, she felt like a mouse in a hayfield, and at least a mouse had a sense of smell to guide it. Rogue was acting on nothing more than a whim.
Passing out of the business district that the hospital was located in, Rogue found herself entering a shadier part of town. She almost turned, to get away from it, but she decided to stick with it for some reason that she herself certainly couldn't put name to. As she walked she couldn't help but stare at all the "supernatural shops" that were cleverly tucked in between grocery stores, gas stations and run down residencies. They came in every shape, size and variety and could provide any and all customers with any magical item, potion or spell desired. Or else give them a hint into their future.
*If ya go for that type o' thing,* Rogue thought to herself, rolling her eyes.
But hey, if these people wanted to make their living off of trickery and illusions, that was their business and good luck to them. Rogue decided that she would leave the shops and their owners to themselves. Especially when she noticed a small bar standing off by itself and suddenly felt so tired that she thought she could fall asleep on the sidewalk. Figuring that maybe sitting for a while might help her, and realizing she didn't have many other options, Rogue entered the bar.
This early in the morning the bar was entirely empty except for the all day drunks that started their drinking when the bar opened and didn't stop until it closed or they ran out of money and had to go find a way to get some. In this bar, strangely, there were none. Only the bartender drying glasses with a white bar rag. Taking a seat at the bar, she sighed as she slumped her arms on it and ran a hand through her hair.
"You look a lil' young t'be drinkin'," the bartender's voice startled Rogue.
"How much fah watah?" Rogue asked skeptically.
"Fah you, free," the bartender replied as if he didn't give many patrons free glasses of water.
He grabbed a glass from the shelf behind him, shoveled some crushed ice into it and filled it with water. He took the time to look her up and down as he set the beverage in front of her, then went back to the glasses he had been drying before Rogue's arrival.
The cool liquid slid down her throat soothingly, calming the raging thirst she had developed while flying through the sky. With at least two of her three needs fulfilled, Rogue allowed herself to relax and enjoy the glass of ice water the bartender had so graciously provided for her.
Remy had taken all night to pack his duffel bag for his long trip to New York. When the Guild Father had said "north o' he'ya" he had certainly meant it. Remy had to admit that before he'd looked through the portfolio that Charlene had given him detailing his assignment-which had ended up being in the files of a very nice laptop-he'd thought north of here would be a hundred miles at the most. Still, if the Guild Father thought this group of Mutants that resided all the way up in New York was a possible threat, Remy didn't feel any need to question his judgment.
Clasping his duffel bag closed, Remy set up the laptop, turned it on, waited for it to finish loading and then pulled up the information on this mutant group. Text files and pictures filled the computer screen, information that the spies had been able to pick up from the outside. There were photos of the mutants' headquarters, from farther back to show the expansive gate that surrounded the huge mansion and it's extensive grounds-which included an Olympic sized pool, a variety of sports courts and several well groomed gardens-to up close shots of the main structure itself taken from between rungs in the heavy, metal fencing. Remy admired the real estate, eager to get inside and check it out for himself. It would be a nice change to the run down old shack he lived in now.
The files on the mansion gave as much information about the place as had been gathered. Already having read through it once, Remy moved past it without going through the monotonous information again. There wasn't much use in it anyways, not for now at least. He'd go through it again when he got closer to his destination and actually needed to know the address and layout of the place and how and where to find it and what not.
After that came the bios of the actual mutants who lived there. Some had pictures, some didn't, and some had more information than others. For instance, there was only one adult Mutant who had actually been seen although others had been mentioned. Those others included a Hank, a Beast, and a Professor, any three of which might be different names for the same mutant and none whose mutant abilities had been discovered since the informants hadn't yet spotted them. That was part of Remy's job, to turn speculation into fact, which made it that much harder since most of the information in the portfolio was speculation.
The one adult Mutant was called Ororo, otherwise known as Storm. Other than that, there wasn't much else known about her except that she seemed to be a much-respected guardian to all the younger mutant residents. Without much else to look at on her bio, Remy scrolled on past them and went onto the younger members of the institute.
A majority of them were lumped into one long report that was extremely vague and general and accompanied with a plethora of pictures that Remy figured would be easier to put names to once he met the people in real life. However, there were five of the junior members who each had a paragraph or two to themselves in addition to several pictures.
Scott-Cyclops-was the obvious leader of the group, rather than any of the adults. He thought up plans and strategies, gave orders and everyone else followed them out. His mutant power, the optic blasts that shot from his eyes, could only be controlled by special ruby lenses that he wore at all times in the form of either sunglasses, or, when acting as a member of the mutant team dubbed the X-men, a visor that he controlled with dials at either side.
Jean, that was the only name the informants had put down for her, seemed to be second in command. He looked over the pictures or her twice: a tall, slender girl with beautiful red hair who wore a confident expression in every photo, whether attending a regular day of classes or in the middle of a fight. She was listed as having mind powers: telekinesis and possibly some telepathy. Remy hoped she didn't try reading his mind. There was way too much in there he didn't want anybody knowing.
Kurt, a.k.a. Nightcrawler, from Germany, had almost made Remy fall over the first time he'd scrolled through the pictures of this young man. In half the pictures Kurt had looked normal, skin, hair, limbs, but in the other half he'd been covered with blue fur, his legs were angled oddly from the knee down, his hands and feet were missing a few digits and he had a devil's tail. Looking through the pictures again, Remy still couldn't believe that the two people were one and the same. The report speculated that one of the mutant's powers was the ability to change his appearance between these two forms. The only other noted mutant ability for this one was his gift for teleporting himself from one place to another instantaneously.
Moving on to the next mutant, Evan, or Spyke, was Ororo's nephew. And with his dark skin contrasted by his light hair, he resembled her. His mutant ability was listed as being able to shoot bone spikes from any part of his body. Also mentioned was the fact that this tended to deplete the calcium supplies in Evan's body, forcing him to constantly replenish it. In more than one picture the boy was holding or drinking milk.
Kitty, also known as ShadowKat, was the last noted Mutant. Cocking his head from side to side as he looked at the pictures of her, Remy decided that, though she was pretty, he preferred the red headed Jean. Miss Kitty had the ability to pass through solid objects at will as her mutant power.
*Well, dat would def'nitely make peekin' inta da girls locker room easy,* Remy thought to himself with a smile, then added as an afterthought, *Or, I guess in dis case, da boys.*
Closing down the program and shutting down the laptop, Remy looked around at his humble abode. He couldn't say he'd miss it; he spent little enough time here as it was. But he knew there were other things he would miss, other people. Henri, the Guild Father, even as little as Remy saw him…Belladonna.
Packing the laptop in it's case and slipping it into the top of his duffel bag, he closed it once more and shouldered it as he let himself reminisce about the beautiful blonde he'd be leaving behind walking out the door of his small house for the last time in a long while. He vaguely wondered if he perhaps he could find her before he left, but immediately struck that thought from his mind. Finding her could take longer than he had, and her gang members would certainly be around, protecting her from the Raven scum she was to marry. Not all of them were as excited about the marriage as himself and she were, but since they had as little say in it as the betrothed themselves did, there was nothing more they could do about it than grumble and give Remy a hard time.
However, Remy figured that he could stop in at the MTG's favorite bar one last time. Nobody would be there this early in the day, but that was probably for the better. Still, it was one place that did hold special memories for Remy, and he'd like one last look around before he departed.
Un-shouldering his duffel bag by the door, Remy bypassed the old tables and chairs placed at the edges of the room for the bar. When the place was full Remy preferred to sit at the tables on the floor, but with it this empty the bar would suit him just fine. That and the fact that the unfamiliar brunette sitting at the bar had grabbed his attention from the moment he had walked into the bar, especially since she was wearing a cat suit that already looked mighty good from the angle he was looking at her from.
"Remy," the bartender greeted him with a smile. "What'll it be?"
"Nothin', mon ami, merci," the Cajun replied.
"Jus' he'ya t'say salut, then," the bartender guessed.
"Oui," Remy confirmed. "I'm headin' up north o' here"
So, word was already getting around.
"You take care o' yo'self, Remy, ya hea'?" the bartender told him. "I wanna see you sittin' at dis bar again."
"Dat make two o' us," Remy agreed.
With one last wink and a smile the bartender got back to the glasses he'd been drying. Now, Remy could finally satiate his curiosity for the brunette-with white forelocks he now took notice of from his position-down the bar from him.
And a woman…to steal your heart away.
Somehow she managed to look his direction at just the same time he was looking towards her. Their eyes met, her's were so deeply green. He couldn't pull his gaze away from them, and yet at the same time he still noticed the way her fingers curved so gracefully around the glass of water sitting on the bar in front of her, how her body looked covered in that skin tight black leather, how kissable her full red lips were, the way her hair, her cheek just begged to be touched.
She suddenly pulled back, breaking the spell, though not eye contact to Remy's relief. Remy was surprised to find he'd gotten so close to her, not even an inch from touching a kiss to her lips. The fingers of his right hand were still caught up in her silky brown hair; his left had been ready to caress her cheek.
"It's not a good ah-dea t'touch me. People who do end up gettin' hu't," her voice was soft and low, giving it a sultry effect.
He pulled his hand from her hair at that warning, though he was still caught up in her eyes and replied with, "I'd take dat risk t'touch you, ma belle chère."
He was surprised at the sound of his own voice, just as soft and low as her's had been. He couldn't remember when he'd ever felt this way, not even with Belladonna. It was as if his soul had found its missing half.
"Ah wouldn't want yah t'get hu't," she assured him.
Remy wasn't sure what she meant by that. How could a simple touch be damaging? If anything it would be completely euphoric.
"I'm not afraid o' gettin' hurt," Remy assured her.
"Yah don't know what it's lahke," she suddenly turned her eyes away and Remy felt lost without their depths to hold him.
"Tell me," he urged gently, sincerely.
"Yah wouldn't understand," she blew his question off.
"Remy unnerstan' a lot more than y't'ink," he insisted.
"Is that your name? Remy?" she asked, changing the subject.
She turned back to look at him, meeting his gaze again just as surely as the first time, never flinching at how different his eyes were. For Remy it was like a breath of fresh air and yet at the same time his breath caught in his throat. If he could just look into those eyes forever, he wouldn't need anything else to live, except maybe to touch her.
"Remy LeBeau, at yo' service, ma trés belle chère," he bowed without losing eye contact.
She smiled and suddenly the room brightened. "Rogue," she returned as he straightened and leaned against the bar, smiling back at her. Usually with women he would give his most debonair and charming smile, but with her his smile was easy and genuine. Nothing phony for her. Remy found he didn't have to fake anything; she inspired his best by just being here with him.
"Rogue, what a mysterious an' intriguin' name," he told her.
"Mebbe that's what Ah wanna be," she replied, "Mysterious and intriguin'."
"Well, I t'ink ya' doin' a bon travail," Remy encouraged.
"Bon…travail?" she repeated his last phrase, butchering the pronunciation.
Remy chuckled. "Bon travail," he repeated. "It mean good job, in Cajun."
She nodded, impressed, perhaps even charmed, Remy hoped, by his dialect. "An' yo' accent is from da South too, non?" he inquired.
"Mississippi," she confirmed freely, "but I moved t'New York a year or so ago."
"Den what you be doin' down here, and dressed so," Remy asked, keeping himself from adding an adverb at the end of his question.
"It's a long story."
Her words were almost drowned out by the door being slammed open. Both of them reacted with a start, turning quickly to see who had entered so violently. Remy heard Rogue utter an "Oh no" under her breath just as the bartender began to take action against such foul treatment of his bar.
"What'chu boys wan'?" he asked gruffly.
"That's none of your business," the group's leader's retort was derisive and his stare was locked on Rogue.
Instinctually, Remy stepped in front of her. He slid his hands into the pockets of his trench coat to make sure that his cards were there, two decks in each pocket. He opened and removed a deck from its pack by feel, taking a few cards into each hand, just in case.
"Ansah' da question," he demanded.
"We don't have to," a big hulking boy replied and Remy couldn't help but think he never wanted to get trapped under that mass.
"Yeah," another of the boys speech was quick, as he too proved to be when suddenly he disappeared only to reappear right behind Rogue, an arm around her neck, his other hand holding her arm painfully behind her back. "We'll just take what we want."
Remy spun around to face the fast talking young man who had Rogue in a bind. But just as he did the floor began to shake and Remy backpedaled in attempt to keep his balance. He wasn't sure if the earthquake was because of the fat guy walking toward himself and Rogue, or if somehow the leader, down on one knee with his hand pressed to the floor was responsible. Whoever it was, Remy was soon on his backside, struggling to clear his head and get back to his feet.
Even in the confusion of it all he still managed to pull his hand from his pocket, half a dozen cards fanned in his fingers. Charging them just enough to do their intended job, he took his aim by instinct and long practiced ease, and let the cards fly. A couple of them flew towards the leader of the group, his last follower still standing at the ready behind him. Another couple of them headed in Rogue's captor's direction hopefully close enough to knock him off his feet, but far away enough that they would do no harm to the damsel in distress. The last two flew at the fat boy lumbering his way towards them.
Just as he expected, none of his targets took the cards seriously, thinking they weren't going to do any harm, especially since it looked like none of them had hit their intended targets. This was exactly what Remy had been counting on. He smirked to himself when each card exploded, startling each one of the boys. The leader was shaken to the ground, his hand losing contact with the floor and the rumbling immediately stopped. The quick one also lost his footing, and fell to the ground, avec Rogue, but he did lose his grasp on her and she immediately pushed away from him, shoving him back with formidable force so that he went sliding across the hard wood floor.
The last two, unfortunately, had little effect on chub boy, and after only a little hesitation he continued on past Remy and towards Rogue. Remy tried to stop him by grabbing his ankle, hoping to trip him or at the least give Rogue some time to get away, but the Cajun was like toilet paper on the boy's shoe: clinging stubbornly, but completely unnoticed.
Rogue turned to find chubby standing unexpectedly behind her with Remy holding fast to his ankle, but she reacted quickly with reflexes that had to have been trained. Throwing an awkward and inexperienced punch, Remy was surprised to see Rogue's arm sink into chubby's mass up to her elbow. That had to have been some blow, but it had little effect on her attacker. Laughing his signature laugh, fatso grabbed the arm that was stuck in his belly and pulled it out, lifting her up by it.
With Rogue now in his firm hold, fatso finally looked down to acknowledge the pest stuck to his ankle. The hulking brute of a boy picked up his foot and shook it a little, but as long as fatty had Rogue in his grip, struggling against it as she was, Remy refused to let go.
"Somebody get rid of him," fatty demanded of his comrades.
Out of the corner of his eye Remy caught a flying green object headed toward him. With skilled reflexes he countered it by means of a charged card, the two meeting in mid-air causing bits of the green stuff to splatter everywhere.
"Hey, he's good," the last baddie, who resembled a swamp creature, commented. "Let's see just how good, yo."
In quick succession, three more balls of the flying green substance were thrown at Remy. And just as before, each met a charged card in mid-air, countering the strike, and just in time. However, what the swamp thing didn't see and hadn't counted on was a fourth card, aimed in his direction. It hit his chest at the moment of detonation, knocking him out of commission.
Remy felt a passing breeze, and when he next reached into his pocket to restock his empty hand, he realized that his ammunition of choice was missing.
"What da-" he exclaimed in surprise.
"No more card tricks for you," the fast lipped boy hooted at him, his laughter high pitched and quick.
"Shake him off, Blob. Quicksilver, grab Toad and lets get out of here," the leader said as he picked himself up from the floor.
"Blob" picked up his foot again and shook it violently and this time, try as he might, Remy couldn't keep his hold on the large boy's ankle and he hit the floor with a thud. By the time he had cleared his head and gotten halfway to his feet "Quicksilver" was waiting by the leader of the group with "Toad" in his arms and Blob was lumbering away with Rogue still struggling to free herself of the unwanted mass.
"Naw wait a minnit," the bartender, who had watched the whole scene go down quietly, suddenly spoke up, "I don t'ink da young lady wants t'go wit'chu."
The bartender's words had no effect on the boys, but his actions did for his arms reached out far beyond what any average human's arm span could and wrapped themselves around Blob's neck tightly enough to squeeze off the boy's air supply. It stopped the fatso right in his tracks and surprised the wits out of the rest of the boys who could only stare in aghast at their comrade struggling for breath. The previously unstoppable Blob had finally been brought back down to mortal standards.
But the Blob wasn't about to give up so easily. His free hand came up to grab onto the bartender's arms in an attempt to free himself, and it wasn't a half bad attempt either. Remy watched with shock as the boy did what he'd never seen anybody do in the entire time he'd known about the bartender's special abilities; the Blob was able to stretch the mutant's arms against his will. Glancing at his friend, he saw the extreme concentration and exertion to keep his hold on the big boy on the older man's visage as sweat trickled down his face and matted his hair.
Remy knew he couldn't leave such a formidable task all up to the one man. Grabbing the closest object he could find that would make at least a halfway decent projectile, he immediately charged it and threw it at the boy's feet. The glass ashtray broke before it exploded, but neither half lost its charge and both exploded at the same time, causing fat's footing to become unsteady. The bartender pulled with all his might and that was the final straw needed to take down the boy, who fell with a very loud noise, making chairs and even tables clatter and rumble with the force of the impact. Rogue landed beside him, taking control of her fall and catching herself in a crouch. Whoever had trained her had done their job well. She'd fit right in with the Mutant Thieves' Guild.
But Remy had no time to be thinking of such things and his work still wasn't done. Without hesitation he began to clear a path to the doorway, throwing cards right into the middle of the group of boys to persuade them to move out of his way. He walked toward them as he did so and Rogue joined him as he passed her. He had to fight the delirium he felt at having her body pressed so close to his as he flung cards left and right to keep the immediate area around them clear.
Once Quicksilver tried to grab Rogue, but she pulled her arm free of his grip and kicked him away. Once again Remy was surprised with the force she was capable of as Quicksilver, also caught off guard by her strength, went reeling backwards until he lost his balance and fell back, his head hitting the edge of a table hard enough to knock him out.
It seemed forever before they were clear of the door; the leader's hate filled stare watching them the whole time. Rogue stared right back, her own ethereal green eyes filled with as much loathing for the boy as he felt for her. Finally, however, they cleared the door, and Remy grabbed Rogue's hand-her gloved one to his disappointment. Oh how he would love to touch her skin-and ran, pulling her behind him.
Remy looked over his shoulder to see the leader of the group outside on one knee again, his hand pressed to the ground. Remy flicked a charged card directly behind himself and his precious cargo and the card stuck in the ground by a corner. The earth shaking the enemy group's leader was sending at them to knock them off balance was neutralized as the very ground it had been flowing through exploded. And before he could send another shockwave at them, unbelievably long arms grabbed the boy around his torso, binding his arms to his side, and dragged him back inside.
"Is he gonna be ah'right by himself?" Rogue asked as they slipped between a couple of shops and out of sight of the bar.
"He be fine. He won' be alone fo'long," Remy assured. Already the Cajun had spied reinforcements from all three of the thieves' guild gangs converging on the bar to do what they could to help. Whoever those boys were, they didn't stand a chance anymore.
Rogue nodded at his response and they ran on in silence, their hands locked together in a death grip. Remy was surprised and quite pleased that she didn't pull her hand from his. He'd thought she would have when she'd decided she didn't need to be dragged along by him anymore. He was glad she didn't though; it was a comfort and joy to feel the weight of her hand in his and the secure hold she kept on his hand.
"Stop, Ah can't run anymo'," Rogue finally demanded, halting in her tracks.
With their hands still clasped together, Remy had no choice but to stop as his arm was almost yanked from his shoulder. He felt like his world collapsed when she finally pulled her hand from his grip to lean on her thighs and catch her breath. Despite that fact, however, Remy's first instinct was still to look around and determine their location: the midpoint of an alley in the business district. He could see people and cars pass by the opening at either end, but nobody who paid them any attention.
Remy stood watching Rogue as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling with each lungful of air. He noticed she too was watching him, though he was sure he wasn't meant to know. Finally she stood up and stretched, giving Remy a chance to admire her lithe form. She was well proportioned, slim but very nicely endowed, with her stretching muscles accenting an athletic build.
"Remy?"
Her voice broke him of his reverie and he blushed at how deeply concentrated he had been. He'd never remembered when a girl had ever made him blush.
"Pardon," he excused himself.
"You're a mutant, ain'cha?" she identified.
Remy nodded and responded with, "So're you."
She too nodded her confirmation, though spoke no words.
"What dem boys wan' wit' you?" he questioned her, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.
She just shook her head in answer.
"I jus' saved yer ass back dere," he reminded, and added in his own mind *An' whatta nice ass it is, too* even as he continued to say "I t'ink you coul' at leas' be grateful enough t'give me an explanation."
She sighed. "Ah'm sorry, Ah really don't have tahme. Ah gotta get goin'."
As much as he wanted to do otherwise Remy decided to just let the argument drop. Instead he asked her, "Don' I gitta merci even?" He couldn't help the mischievous grin spreading across his lips.
She chuckled at this comment of his, the corners of her mouth tugging up in her own smile. For Remy, that was thanks enough.
Stepping forward toward him, she reached to kiss his cheek. At least, that's what Remy thought she was doing, but her lips never touched. Instead they wavered a mere millimeter from his face and he felt her breath blow across his skin. His eyes widened in surprise at such an unexpected response. She stepped back, still smiling at him and he opened his mouth to ask her what that had been all about.
"Thank you," she said to him before she turned, took a step and then, to the Cajun's amazement, lifted into the air.
He stared at her quickly disappearing form as she rose into the Louisiana sky above the tops of the buildings and then flew away. He realized that he'd lifted his hand to his cheek where she'd blown her breath on him and he let it drop back to his side. Finally he forced himself to turn and walk away, but he couldn't force her out of his mind.
"May we meet again, ma belle chère," he whispered softly as he left.
It was far past time for him to be heading out on his own journey. It was a quick stop back at the bar to make sure everything was under control and to grab his duffel bag. The group of mutants that had attacked were nowhere to be seen and the bartender assured Remy that no extensive damage had been done then bid him "Bon Chance" and the young Cajun was on his way.
Except that on the way out he met up with Belladonna. She smiled instantly upon seeing him, and he smiled back of course. Except somehow he couldn't make it as eager as he used to.
"I wish ya didn't have t'go, Remy," she breathed as she leaned in close to him.
"I know Bella, but I can' go agains' da Guild Father's wishes," he reminded her.
"Well don't be gone too long. I'll miss you so much," she embellished with a pout, squeezing him tight and kissing his cheek.
The cheek opposite from the one that Rogue had breathed on, Remy noted. He hugged her back pressing a kiss into her hair.
"I be back befo' y'know it," he assured her.
"You better be," she said stepping back from him so that he could be on his way.
He smiled and bowed for her, feeling now that he was doing it more out of duty than anything else. And then, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he walked away, leaving the bar, New Orleans and Louisiana behind him.