Chapter Fourteen:


Rogue picked at her food at dinner, not really feeling that hungry. She didn't talk at all, and barely noticed when people tried to get her attention. She didn't hear what they said, she just nodded absently. Still, somehow she had noticed the worried little looks Remy kept tossing her way from across the table.

She excused herself halfway through the meal, quietly climbing the stairs and heading to her room. It wasn't until she turned around to shut the door behind her that she realized Remy had followed her.

"What do ya want?" she asked wearily.

"T' talk," he answered, stepping past her into the room. He didn't glance around, which didn't really surprise her. She knew he'd been in her room before, courtesy of the book he'd left for her. What did surprise her was that he made himself at home by dropping down onto the bed, leaning his head against the wall.

"Ya said ya wanted t' talk," she said sharply, trying not to notice how comfortable he looked there on her bed. "So talk."

Remy looked up at her, his red on black eyes full of concern. "You okay, chere?" he asked. "You didn' say not'ing durin' dinner, an' yo' eyes look troubled."

Rogue sighed. "Ah'm fine," she lied. "Jus' tired."

He gave her a skeptical look.

"Really," she insisted.

"Okay, den," he said, pulling out his deck of cards and beginning to shuffle them. "So you ain't upset about anyt'ing dat Pietro might have said den?"

Good Lord, Rogue thought. Is he always this persistent?

What about this observant? Carol added, speaking for the first time in a few hours. She had remained silent during Rogue's conversation with Pietro, though Rogue knew that she had been hoping Rogue would have at least decked him once or twice.

To tell the truth, Rogue had given the idea serious consideration.

"Ah don't wanna talk 'bout Pietro," she snapped sharply.

He shrugged. "Dat's alright, den. We talk 'bout somet'ing else if you like. But Remy t'ink it be good fo' you t' get it off yo' chest. It pretty obvious dat somet'ing went down between de two o' you. Maybe you feel better if you tell ol' Remy 'bout it, hahn?"

Instead of answering, Rogue turned her attention to the window, staring intently out at the starry sky outside. She forced herself not to look at him, even though she knew he was looking at her. She could feel his eyes raking over her, and it took all of her control not to blush.

Ah swear, Ah'm gonna smack him one day, she muttered to herself.

I think it would do him some good, Carol replied. That boy is too full of himself. With good reason, of course, he is really good looking-

Isn't he? Rogue said with a mental sigh.

Oh, brother, Carol rolled her eyes. Not this again.

Be quiet, would ya? Rogue replied.

Gladly, Carol said with a smirk. I'll leave you two alone, then. Not that you can really do anything, anyway...

"Chere?"

Only then did Rogue realize Remy had been speaking. She shook her head, then turned to look at him. "Sorry, did ya say somethin'?"

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Dat girl fillin' yo' head wit talk 'gain?"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. What did ya say?"

"Remy ask if the li'l speed demon said somet'ing dat needs t' be taken care o'," Remy repeated, and Rogue understood the offer behind those words.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "It wasn't anythin' like that. It was jus'..."

"Jus' what, chere?"

"Jus' he makes me so angry," Rogue confessed through gritted teeth. "Ah mean, Ah understand, Ah guess, about his father an' all, about why he felt like he needed to be on his side. But the way he went about it...spyin' not only on us, but on the Brotherhood, sellin' out his own friends..." She clenched her fists as her side. "Lord, Ah wanted t' belt him good when Ah was standin' out there with him, an' all he was doin' was tryin' t' say that he was sorry."

"But sometimes an apology jus' not enough t' cut it, non?" Remy said gently.

"Especially when Ah can't be certain that he means it," Rogue sighed, rubbing her forehead in frustration. "Ah used t' be able t' read that Boy so easily, but now...it's like he's a whole different person than the boy Ah used t' know."

"People change," Remy said with a shrug. "What can you do except go 'long wit' it? Either he's still de same Pietro or he's not."

"It ain't that simple," Rogue replied, shaking her head.

"Au contraire," Remy retorted with a faint smile. "It is dat simple, chere. When you get right down t' it, either you gon' fo'give de boy, or you ain't. Either you hate him, or you don'."

"Ah don't hate him," Rogue said softly. "No matter how much Ah wish Ah did."

No matter how much you should, Carol growled.

Rogue sighed, shaking her head slightly. "It's jus' kinda stressful, that's all. Confusin', too. Bein' betrayed by someone that ya trusted, someone that ya..." she trailed off, closing her eyes against the hot tears of anger welling there.

"Oh," Remy said, a strange hitch to his voice. He hesitated, then asked, "De two o' you were close den?"

"Yeah," she answered quietly, a bitter edge to her tone. "Were. A long time ago."

"How close?" Remy asked, an uneasiness to his tone that took Rogue a moment to decipher, and when she did she had to force herself not to smile.

Rogue opened her eyes and studied him for a moment, trying to decide how to answer that. "We were never more than friends if that's what ya mean," she assured him, and she saw the relief in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it. "Ah cared fo' that boy, an' I know that he cared fo' me. Maybe we coulda been somethin' more, if Ah'd stayed, if things had been different. Maybe not, who knows?" She eyed him curiously. "Ah used t' live with him an' the other Brotherhood members. Did Magneto tell ya'll that?"

Remy nodded. "De boss man, he mention somet'ing 'bout it, but Remy, he don't usually pay de man too much 'tention."

Despite herself, Rogue smiled. "Can't say Ah blame ya fo' that, sugar."

"Remy t'ink he like dis 'sugar' better dan de swamp rat," Remy said with a grin.

"Don't get cocky, Cajun," she retorted. "It ain't reserved exclusively for ya. T' me, ya'll always be a swamp rat."

"Den I guess, chere, you gon' stay de river rat, non?" he asked with a smirk.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Ya gonna drive me crazy, ya know that?"

"I do my best, p'tite," he replied dryly. "But de real test is t' see if I can do de same t' Magneto, eh?"

"Ah think ya a li'l late for that," Rogue replied sarcastically.

Remy grinned. "Dat a good point. He can be one crazy homme."

"Then why do ya follow him?" Rogue demanded.

Remy shrugged. "Why not, chere? De rest o' de world, dey don' want not'ing t' do wit us. Magneto, he tryin' t' change all dat. Tryin' t' create a world where de likes o' us can live among de humans an' not have t' live in fear o' persecution."

"The Professor wants that, too," Rogue told him. "But he don't believe we can ever hope t' achieve that by goin' around an' strikin' fear in t' the hearts o' the rest o' the world. He thinks that Magneto is only goin' t' make things worse."

"An' what do you t'ink, chere?" Remy challenged evenly, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Ah think hatred can only bring more hatred," Rogue replied, not tearing away her gaze. "Ya can't gain peace by wagin' war. Not with this."

"An' if dey don' leave you no choice?" Remy shot back. "If dey start a war an' bring de war t' you, den what, p'tite? What you gon' do den?"

"People ain't goin' t' start a war, Gambit!" Rogue cried. "Is that what Magneto's been tellin' ya is gonna happen? Remy, people ain't like that. They ain' t goin' t' launch a full scale war on us for bein' who we are. An' if ya believe that, then ya bein' naive."

"Maybe you de one bein' naive, eh, chere?" Remy replied shortly. "You saw de new reports. You seen de protests, heard de t'ings does people are sayin' 'bout us. You t'ink we can jus' sit down an' talk it out wit' dem? Dat dis whole mess can be resolved wit' peace talks an' pacifism? Den you either be naive or plain foolish, girl."

Rogue growled. "Ya can't judge the whole human race on the actions an' words o' a few, Remy. Not all humans feel that way 'bout us, an' all o' this is new t' them. Give them time an' they'll cool down."

"Yo' right 'bout one t'ing, chere, dis is all new t' dem," Remy said, shaking his head. "But it only gon' get worse from here. Dey not understand us, dem. Dey never will, neither, cuz dey don't wan' t'!"

"People can change, Remy," Rogue snapped, glaring at him. "Ya just gotta give 'em a chance. Ya can't go runnin' 'round blowin' things up an' expect for people t' accept it. All that'll do is make 'em think they're right 'bout us!"

"An' what's gon' t' make dem t'ink dat dey aren't?" Remy challenged. "Chere, it don' matter what we do, what we decide. They not ever gon' t' 'cept us. We on our own, chere, an' we gotta do what we gotta do t' survive."

Would you two just shut up already?! Carol cried in frustration. All this senseless bickering is giving me a headache! It doesn't matter, really, anyway, because the human race sees us as a threat, Rogue, and they're going to do what they think is necessary to deal with such a potential threat. Face it, your Professor has a nice dream and all, but it's just not realistic.

"Shut up!" Rogue cried, her eyes stinging with tears. "It is so! It is so realistic! The two branches o' our species can learn t' live t'gether! Ah know we can! Because if we can't..." she swallowed hard, her voice hoarse. "If we can't, then everythin' Ah stood for as an X-man would be a lie."

"Carol?" Remy asked softly, with a gentleness that both surprised and comforted her.

She nodded wordlessly, not trusting her voice to speak at the moment.

He studied her for a moment in silence, then pushed up from the bed and made his way over to her, his duster billowing out around him. Instinctively, she took a small step back.

He noticed, and frowned. "You don' hafta do dat, chere," he said quietly. "I ain't gon' hurt you none."

"Ah know ya aren't," she replied honestly, fidgeting with her gloved hands. "It's me hurtin' ya that has me worried. Ah've spent mah whole life bein' paranoid that Ah'm goin' t' accidentally brush up against someone an' drain 'em, an' then you came along an' ya just don't seem t' care 'bout my mutation an' all, an'...well...it's kinda scary."

"Why's dat, chere?" he asked.

Rogue looked away. "Most people try t' stay as far away from me as they can. Always 'fraid they might touch me by accident or somethin'."

"Remy not afraid, chere," Remy assured her softly, and Rogue found herself suddenly aware of, and uncomfortable with, just how close together they were standing now. She wanted to step back, but she found she couldn't. Her head told her body to move, but her feet just wouldn't listen.

"Ah..." she rasped, looking away. "Ah...please don't look at me like that."

"Why not, chere?" he asked in a soft, husky voice that made her heart skip a beat.

"Because Ah can't touch ya," she whispered. "An' if ya keep lookin' at me like that, Ah'm afraid Ah might forget an' do somethin' stupid."

She was expecting some cocky comment about how that didn't worry him, or for him to ask her what kind of stupid thing she meant, but to her surprise, he didn't. He stepped away from her, though he made no secret about the fact that he didn't really want to, and changed the subject smoothly. "You t'ink you got all de stuff you gon' need, chere?" he asked, looking around the room. "Magneto don't know not'ing 'bout no teenage girls an' what dey need. Harmony a bit too old t' know fo' sure."

"It's alright," she replied. "Ah got everythin' Ah need, really. Harmony an' Hank picked me up some clothes that fit better, stuff more t' mah likin' and all, so Ah'm good." She smiled faintly. "Though Ah would kill for some other shoes. These boots are comfy, but let me tell ya, ya wear 'em for months at a time, an' ya'd be ready t' chuck 'em, too. An', Lord, it's been months since Ah've been able t' wear my makeup."

"Remy t'ink you look better wit'out de makeup, p'tite," Remy told her with a smile. "Yo' much too pretty t' be coverin' up yo' face like dat."

Rogue blushed. "Ya know, ya really are just too charmin' for ya own good, ya know that?"

"I t'ink I heard dat a few times. Mostly from dis pretty little femme who t'ink she know every'ting. De real bossy type, vous savez?"

"One o' these days, Cajun, ya gonna get whatcha deserve."

Remy grinned. "Dat's what I'm countin' on, me."


Translations:

Au contraire- on the contrary
vous savez?- you know?