Author's Note:Thanks for the reviews! But you realize you're just encouraging me! :-p I probably should have mentioned that over on TFN's JCF I was given the title "Queen of Evil Cliffies"… ;-) I expect to be yelled at a few more times before this is all over, but don't worry, by the time this is all said and done, it'll be worth it! :-D Trust me, I'm a Doctor… ;-)
Chapter Eighteen
New Orleans
Terminal Velocity: the speed at which a falling object can no longer accelerate because the downward force of gravity is cancelled out by the upward force of drag. The object continues to fall and will eventually hit the Earth, the results usually unpleasant if no kind of breaking system is used to slow the descent.
Rogue knew this, she understood the mechanics of it, but as her body freefell from the sky she couldn't quite seem to understand why it was so important.
…
Seconds after Rogue shot out the window, Gambit followed, climbing up onto the roof of the Presbytere to watch her progress. Mentally he counted down the seconds as she disappeared against the backdrop, realizing she would wait until the point of no return in order to release the payload into the sky.
"Rogue," he said the word through clenched teeth as he reached the twenty second mark, wishing he could see where she was but even his mutated irises weren't that good.
The sky exploded in a brilliant fireball, the thief shielding his red eyes from the light of the blast. The concussion wave hit and it was dissipated to the point that a few windows shuddered, car alarms went off, but nothing to be worried about.
Scanning a sky still lit up from the afterglow and falling debris, he saw her… dropping fast, back first, legs and arms in the air, unconscious. One doesn't simply fly straight up when dealing with such heights, especially as the Earth continues to move below them. Gambit gauged that she was about a half mile away...
Not even taking a split second to think about, the Cajun bounded off the roof of the museum onto the next… and ran...
…
Rogue could hear the wind whipping by her, the horrible lump in her stomach as gravity took its toll, but it all felt like a dream. She fought towards consciousness but her mind was so quiet… so peaceful… the silence was addictive.
When she was younger it wasn't so bad, not as many voices crowded her head and they were easier to ignore. Then how did the pastor put it in the sermons, 'No room at the Inn'? Of course, most of the psyche's she had absorbed where of the kind of people even Jesus wouldn't help. And they sat there, waiting to creep up on her when she wasn't looking.
Then there was Danvers, always staring back at her, judging, a constant reminder of her guilt.
Deep down, Rogue knew the stuff she did for Magento, both before and after the incident with the blonde mutant, likely lead to someone's death. It troubled her but she had to face the facts that as the world approached learning about mutants even doing the right thing could cause untold consequences. But killing someone hand to hand, or near enough, and having them inside her head, so solid and real…
Rogue couldn't do this anymore…
Momma always said she had a choice. She could hide, be ashamed and afraid of what she was… or be proud to be a mutant, take her rightful place in the world order.
What if there was a space in between? She could be proud of what she was… different from everyone else but in that way exactly the same. Maybe there didn't need to be an us vs them… but them doesn't seem to want to live peacefully with us…
Humans are scared, panicky creatures which destroy everything they don't understand…
Humans, mutants, are all given the same choice, to be the hero or the villain in this equation…
Every thought that crossed her mind she was unable to reconcile against another. Damn that red eyed Cajun, confusing her, clouding the issue. He didn't know her, not like her momma, didn't understand what it felt like to be on the front line of the approaching war.
War, that's where this was all leading… eventually that bridge will be crossed and burned to the ground.
Ground, it was coming up fast… she should probably avoid it… but there was something beautiful in the silence.
Silence, hallow is the quiet whispering wind… if she could just stay like this a little bit longer… make the voices go away forever…
Rogue's body was jerked to the side, a solid mass ploughing into her. The sudden change in momentum caused her stomach to lurch and her conscious to awaken. Her mind was groggy and heavy as the voices filtered back from the shadows, so much for the silence.
Two strong arms held her against an equally powerful body as she came to a shuddering stop.
"I got you," a familiar voice whispered in her ear, "I got you."
Eyes fluttering open, the red irises of Gambit stared intensely at her, "It work?" her throat was dry and cracked.
"It worked, Rogue," he offered her a small upturn on his lips, an honest gesture that told her she had succeeded.
"Good," she was tired, her body weak, barely feeling the scrape of ceiling tar across her bare feet, tearing at the stockings, "good."
Confident she was safe in the thief's arms she passed out.
…
Thieves Guild House
Mercy sat flipping through the file in front of her, trying to piece it all together but she was missing something vital. Claude and Emil sat quietly with her, also unsure what to make of the information presented to them.
The door opened and her brother-in-law walked in with heavy steps. He was missing his jacket and tie, first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and he was definitely not happy.
"How's Rogue?" Mercy asked, Claude having filled her in on the bomb and Rogue's dash into the sky. Remy had run off and never came back so the guilded thief returned to the House to report.
"She'll be fine," Remy replied evenly, not angry, not sad, not anything.
"Do we know who planted da bomb?" Mercy asked, still shocked that anyone would do such a thing, it was even below the Assassin Guild's level of insanity.
Remy's jaw went tight, letting out a tired laugh as if some big joke had been on him this whole time, "Yeah, Julien."
"Julian?" she ran through all the Julian's she knew but none of them could incite this in her brother-in-law… except… "Julien Boudreaux?"
"Dat be da one," the words were harsh and everyone in the room looked quizzically at each other.
"Julien's dead," though now she was uncertain, it wasn't like Remy to make that big of a mistake, especially considering his role in the man's death.
"Apparently not," he began to pass, fingers twitching at his sides, "he's been behind all of dis, from da beginning."
Mercy glanced back at the file laying open on the table, "Julien did all dis?"
The thief began to pace, hands dancing at his sides as if he wanted to blow something up, mumbling, "Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left."
"What?" she had no idea what he talking about.
"Julien," he turned, rage in his eyes, "he made dis personal."
"Remy," Mercy's tone was cautionary, even though something inside her begged to let loose the Cajun on the man who killed her beloved.
"Dis wasn't about silencing Henri because he got too close," the man's red eyes glowered as he approached her, "dis… was personal."
"You can't think like dat," even as she said the words she knew he could tell she only spoke them half-heartedly, "a thief balances what he wants and what he needs, what's in his head and what's in his heart."
"And what's in your head, Mercy, in your heart?" he challenged her and she looked away, unable to get the strength to stop the man. He took her hands, "I came here to give you fair warning, mon ami bien-aimé."
Mercy didn't need him to explain, Julien had made this more than personal, made it about blood, and that was exactly what the thief was going to get from the man if he was truly still alive.
"Remy," she said weakly as he stomped from the room, not looking back.
There was a long silence before Claude managed to speak up. "Now what do we do?"
She turned to the two men, composing herself, she was the House Matriarch, it was her duty to protect the family, the Guild. Glancing down at the file on the table she came to the only conclusion she could, "If Remy is gonna start a war, den we best be ready to finish it."
…
Home of Robert Lord
Rogue awoke with a headache, body aching from the concussion wave that had hit her. She'd heal quick enough but that didn't mean she wouldn't suffer until then.
Glancing around she was back in her room at Gambit's safe house. She lay on the bed, still in the tattered remains of her dress, gloves and stockings. The thief didn't try anything funny, simply laid her down and put his dress jacket over her as some small manner of warmth. A small fire was crackling in the gas fireplace.
Stretching her body, she swung her legs off the bed and managed to stand, working the kinks out of her muscles, bones popping loudly. She held his jacket in her hands and could smell the husky sent of his aftershave, the man never bothered with cologne, she figured that one out on her own. As she straightened it out to lay it down, something caught her eye.
Tucked in the inside pocket of the coat was the King of Hearts that had got her into this mess in the first place. Why would Gambit just leave it for her to take so easily? The events at the party troubled him, but could it have run that deep?
She slipped the card half-way out before deciding that it wouldn't be right, the whole situation having moved past this a long time ago. Putting the King back she laid the jacket across the end of the bed for now.
First thing first, get out of these clothes that smelt of ash and sweat. The long gloves came off, one having been torn and ripped down the side. It was a miracle Gambit didn't accidently touch her but she could tell he hadn't. Her jewelry was missing except for one earring that amazingly managed to survive.
Going to pull the dress off her shoulders, there was a soft knock on the door. She called out, "Yes?"
"Rogue," came back the thief's voice, "may I come in?"
The man was awfully polite, "Yeah," she pulled the dress back up, "I guess."
The door swung open slowly, the thief walking in with her leather jacket and a small bag in his hand, "I picked up your stuff, you okay?"
"I'm fine," which was the truth, the aches and pains would go away with a nice warm shower. There was a strange sullenness to the situation and she tried to make light. "But if yah keep me doing tha heavy lifting around here I'll have ta start charging yah proper."
Gambit frowned, a thoughtful look on his face as he sat her stuff on the bed and picked up his coat, not checking for the card she noted, "I owe you another apology, petite," he started to say, "I know you've been tagging along because of what happened with Mystique and Carol Danvers. I gather you've been trying to make peace with that through helping me and I've used dat to my advantage, been using you. I never thought it'd go dis far, I know you're invulnerable but you coulda died out dere."
His words floored her, too close to the truth, more than he realized, and she stood, mouth slightly gapped open, unsure how to reconcile this version of Gambit against the ones she had already seen.
"I'm just saying," his brow furrowed, not really looking at her anymore, "things are only gonna get worse now and dis isn't your fight. You should go, leave N'Orlean tonight, I won't think any less of you though I doubt you would care if I did."
"No," she found herself saying the word before she even had a chance to really think things through, but once she did, "I made this my fight because you're my friend, LeBeau. Be it by hook or by crook, yah made me that and I'm not gonna walk out on yah."
"Rogue—"
"Heighten sense of self-preservation, remember?" she pointed at him, the red head found herself a little bit angry at the man for making assumptions of her. "Besides, a man like yah knows better than ta invite a lady ta a party then ask her ta leave before tha last dance."
Gambit stared at her, just as angry, almost fuming, but she locked her eyes with his and wouldn't back down. He blinked first, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh, "You don't understand what kind of mess you're getting into with dis, cheri."
"Then make me understand," she shrugged as if it was as simple as that, because to her it was. Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, was her friend and that's exactly what he needed right now, someone who he could talk to, trust. Someone to help chase the demons away, "That man, Julien, he tha devil you spoke of?"
"Hein?" he paused, "Non, da devil is much more… gracious. Let's you walk yourself to your own doom and thank him afterwards for his time," the words were tired and raw. "Julien, he's just da villain."
"What happened, Gambit?" she asked as gently as she could, she knew better than most what it was like to hold all this in and she wouldn't let him do the same.
The mutant's hands dipped into his jacket and pulled out the King of Hearts, holding it out for her. "Do you know what dis is?"
Taking the card, images started to creep up on her and she quickly squashed them, "Tha memories attached to this are rain-wrapped in emotion, I don't dare try ta touch them for fear of getting swept away," fearing another episode like on the plane she handed it back, "I knew it was important ta yah, yah kept it close ta yah heart. That's why I took it, was trying ta get back at yah for that little stunt in Baghdad."
"Know how to hit where it hurts, cheri," there was no malice in his voice, just sorrow, "I carry dis ta remind me…"
When he didn't continue, "Remind yah of what?"
Rogue thought she was going to have to prompt the man again, but he slowly looked up and said, "When I was young, met da most beautiful girl in all of N'Orlean…"
A twelve year old Remy LeBeau ran across a roof top after stealing from Lacroux's candy store. He sat down to chomp down on his ill-gotten caramel when he spied a golden haired goddess standing in front of a shop, bored, waiting with several others.
The eleven year old noticed him and stared up at the little thief who unabashedly admired her, red colored eyes twinkling. A laughing smile formed on her lips.
"Bella Donna," he whispered the words.
"Belladonna?" Rogue couldn't help but frown.
"Means beautiful woman in Italian," Gambit managed a smile.
"It's also a poison," she didn't want to rain on his obviously wonderful memory, but, "who would name their daughter that?"
"Marius Boudreaux," he answered simply. "Patriarch of the Assassin's Guild."
A man, powerful in his build and his stance, followed his daughter's gaze to the young thief. Marius Boudreaux was not amused and sent two of his men to chase the boy away.
Remy LeBeau waited till last second before dashing off, hopping from roof to roof, Bella Donna watching him as he went with a grin on her face. The cute boy was interesting, she liked interesting.
"It was a childhood crush dat grew into more as we got older," a reminiscent smile ghosted his lips, "but we had to keep it quiet, da fighting had died down, but all dat dere needed was one spark…"
Remy and Bella Donna, barely seventeen, sat in an old barn, picnic laid out. He flipped his cards, expertly tossing them into the air. As an Ace of Diamonds flew up it was struck by a dagger which pinned it to a timber. Remy glanced back at the beauty who smirked at him, challenging him to toss another.
Men gathered at both ends of the barn and the couple scrambled to their feet, ready to fight if need be. That's when Remy spotted Henri at one end, with a group of thieves. He only recognized a few on the other end, Assassins.
"Regular Romeo and Juliet," Rogue mumbled, and if memory served that story didn't end well, "almost think yah making it up if I couldn't... sense tha memories being true."
"What do dey say, art imitates life? Or is it da other way around?" he tried a chuckle but it all came out too tired. "Only in dis story, we were supposed to have a happy ending."
Remy and Bella Donna stood in St. Louis Cathedral, neutral territory, John-Luc and Marius standing on opposite ends of the dais.
"On your eighteen birthday, Bella Donna," Marius spoke with a deep timber, "you will marry Remy LeBeau who will already be of age, it will seal a truce between da Guilds."
"Dere will be peace," John-Luc nodded, pleased with the outcome, "no more fighting, no more death."
Remy and Bella Donna looked at each other, apprehension in their faces, after all, it's one thing to care about another person, a whole other to be pushed into a wedding when you're only eighteen. But they cared more about their families, the Guilds, then they did about their own selves… kissing, they held each other, knowing they could make a life together.
From the shadows a man just shy of his twenty first birthday fumed… this could mess up everything… or perhaps be exactly what he needed?
"There are no happy endings," Rogue said softly, she should know.
"Aye, petite," he agreed sadly. "Aye…"