BENEATH THE SURFACE
Part Eight
Rogue tossed and turned. She couldn't sleep no matter what position she lay in, she couldn't find any comfort. The room was too hot so she'd open the window, but then the flies and moths would get in and she'd feel them buzzing and flapping around her face; then the air would get a little too cool in the room and she'd shut the window, but the problem of the insect life that couldn't seem to find its way out again was harder to solve. She didn't have any insect repellent nor a bug killer handy.
She twisted over on the bed and reached for her phone, picking it up and switching it on to check the time. It was almost three in the morning, instinctively she checked to see if there were any bars in the signal icon at the top of the screen...she hadn't been able to get a signal out on it in days. She'd tried but trying to make calls outside of Europe seemed to be an exercise in futility on this cheap phone. She'd hoped by now she would have at least received a text or a phone call from Remy, but so far nothing had come through. She'd tried to tell herself perhaps he was having the same issue, but her worried mind kept going to the place where she imagined he was still slightly annoyed with her for leaving at all, that he was playing the silent treatment game to teach her a lesson.
Bein' too suspicious again, she reminded herself as she switched on the light and pushed the covers off; she sat there for a few moments, sweeping her hair from her face and yawning. It wouldn't be much longer; they had one more person to find in relation to the missing mutants, the person who would lead them to the end of their mission. Rogue had hoped it would be over with by now, but for the past two days there had been nothing but false leads and dead ends.
Sighing, deciding that instead of trying to sleep she may as well go make herself a cup of coffee and try to do some searches online to help with the mission. Whenever she tried this, it usually came up useless (she certainly wasn't as intelligent as Kurt or Hank when it came to such things), but it was better than sitting doing nothing but try to sleep.
In the kitchen, Kurt Wagner's computer was still set up; the screensaver had various pictures of cartoon characters in colourful costumes with unrealistic hair styles, reminding her of the quirkier side of the boy that he hadn't grown out of yet. She filled the coffee maker, turned it on and then sat down at the laptop and pushed the mouse, bringing the screen to life.
The damn thing was passworded. Not that it was necessarily a warning to keep out, he'd told her she could use it if she wanted, he'd offered numerous times through the week.
It took her a few moments of racking her brains and trying things she thought Kurt would use as a password to finally happen on the right one. It was ridiculous that his favourite German band happened to be his password. It was so obvious that she was certain half the mansion would have cracked that one in two minutes.
Immediately, as the password was accepted, Rogue found herself in disbelief, looking at the browser logged into some kind of pornography website. She gaped, the things she was looking at (an array of various explicit videos) left nothing to the imagination.
Oh my God, she made a face, realising that Kurt must have been looking at this right before bed. As the kitchen seemed to be the only room in the entire cottage that the wifi connection seemed to work, she supposed it wouldn't have helped him to take that laptop upstairs for his...private viewing.
Rogue shook her head in disgrace, one particular video seemed not all that unlike the position she'd found herself in with Remy on the yacht. Chewing her lip, she turned and looked over her shoulder, glancing to see if anyone might be about to happen upon her the looked back to the screen, examining the screen capture. Was that how it had looked? Perhaps not quite as...attractive. This woman had far bigger breasts than she did, a deep tan and blonde hair, the man she was with didn't have the physique Remy had, but he did have far less clothing on.
But yes, this was how it had probably looked...vaguely.
Curiously – somehow just compelled through pure absurd fascination – Rogue clicked the link beneath the video. The sound from the video seemed to blast out of the laptop's ridiculously small sound system as the video began playing itself without even prompting. Despite the volume was clearly on it's lowest setting, it almost appeared as if it were echoing throughout the entire house as the night was so silent that any sound might seem monstrously loud.
She hit the mute button, gasping, her face going red, she turned around and looked over her shoulder again, hoping no one was about to catch her. No...no one had heard. She could usually hear floorboards upstairs creaking if anyone so much as took a step, she'd know.
Unless Kurt decided to 'port down, she realised, grimacing. She felt a little uneasy at the thought of what Kurt might have been looking at from this site, and she hoped he had refrained from doing anything until getting into the privacy of the room he was staying in at least. Twisting the laptop around to face the other direction (so she could look straight at the door and see anyone coming) she shifted her seat and sat there watching the video.
She supposed for Remy's sake was this was probably the kind of thing she should have been watching, at least trying to understand his fascination with the act. She watched, trying to somehow avoid focusing too much on the graphic and shaky close ups. The woman lying there, breasts barely moving (clearly a pair of bolt ons, in Rogue's opinion), him slamming into her like a man trying to force a massive load into a washing machine and never quite getting it all the way in.
It occurred to Rogue the woman didn't seem to be doing all that much, nor making much sound (although she had it muted she could see the woman wasn't opening her mouth). Various comments by members of the site even stated so below the video, Rogue spied various mentions of 'why is she lieing there like a blow-up doll lolz' and 'wow she's a s**t f**k' (leaving her wondering why the users were censoring words when the title was so apply named 'man fucks woman hard in pussy', it seemed rather pointless to censor the comments).
Rogue swept her hair away from her forehead tiredly, wondering if this was what Remy had thought about his time with her. She'd lay there too; she hadn't expected that to happen, hadn't really known how to participate, especially not with a man that up until that day she'd never known she might actually have sex with.
It wasn't sex, she reminded herself. It was just a fucking mess.
Remy had taken the blame for it being something of a mess, admitted to restraint and care. She had to wonder if he'd taken the blame feeling that she was perhaps the reason why it had gone so badly and was simply trying to appease her by letting her think it was his fault. Rogue wondered perhaps if even her pale and rather inadequate body had been what had sickened him; it was nothing in comparison to the tanned blonde bombshells he seemed to go for. She was nothing like Belladonna...nor that Brandy girl either.
Bet he didn't feel sick when he was with them, Rogue thought dully. Looking back at the yacht incident, she supposed she felt almost guilty for not even trying to participate properly, when she'd tried to touch him even gently on the arms, he'd seemed distracted by it. It hadn't been sexy, it had been awkward.
Does Remy watch this kind of thing, is this where he gets ideas for the kinds of things he does with all the pretty girls he's been with? Rogue shuddered at the thought of the kind of things Remy probably looked at on this kind of website. The too graphic closeups and points of view of what went where and what the outcomes were, some of which she'd only spotted brief glimpses off on screen captures from the previous page.
She shut down the website in disgust, both with it (a closeup got slightly too graphic for her liking) and in disgust with herself. This kind of perverse fascination wasn't normal was it? As she closed the window down, she spied an icon on the desktop page. Skype.
She tilted her head curiously, wondering if Remy LeBeau would have such a thing as Skype on his iPhone. It seemed plausible...she was certain she might have even seen it amongst the icons on his screen while he was looking at the thing. If there was ever a time to talk to him, now would be opportune. It was late in Bayville...it must have been somewhere around nine or ten at night, he'd probably be alone in his room. And she had some time alone without interruptions herself; she wouldn't have to try and hide the fact she was talking to Remy. Wouldn't have to make up excuses why she was calling him.
The program was already logged in much to her delight, she located the search bar and typed in his name, finding that he had not registered under his real name (and there seemed to be no Remy LeBeau's at all on Skype). So much for the thought she might get in touch with him, might actually talk to him without interruptions.
Wait...what about his alias? She suddenly realised. Out of sheer curiosity, and as something of a last resort (although she wondered if it could be classed that as it was only her second attempt at searching) she typed in Jeremy LeNoir, his favourite alias.
There were far too many results. Several. Rogue had thought the name might be unusual but apparently it was very common, Rogue supposed that was why it was so easy for him to use as an alias, when it came to finding the alias, there were many with that name. She went through the list, trying to find anything that would hint that one of them could be his. And then to her luck, she happened on a profile picture...it was him.
He was wearing sunglasses, he looked slightly younger, perhaps two years younger, his face a little softer, less chiselled and refined; his hair was scraggy, his face so clean shaven that he looked almost like a girl. But it was him, of that she was certain.
She wasn't certain at all or not if he happened to be online or logged into the application at all, but deciding to take a chance, hoping she wasn't about to wake up some stranger instead, she hit the large green call phone button.
It beeped, then rang, and rang. There was a click, and Rogue immediately knew his voice, he sounded clearer on this than he had over the phone when she'd called him. "Hello..." he sounded tired, as if he'd been woken up.
"Remy...it's me..."
There was a pause, she could tell he was trying to wake himself up a little, "Marie?" he asked, a little too loudly.
"Ssh!" she warned, "yes...it's me..."
"Who's BlueFuzzBalls?" Remy asked tiredly.
"Huh?"
"Says the caller is BlueFuzzBalls..." he yawned.
"Ah'm callin' from Kurt's laptop...and it was already logged in," Rogue answered, "Ah guess that's his username or somethin'."
"Thank god it you, thought it might be some guy wit' a serious problem and a likin' f' my profile picture..." he grumbled. "Why ain' y' been in touch?" he asked of her, sounding a little hurt.
"Ah tried, Remy, Ah swear..." she sighed. "But every time Ah tried to call it just wouldn't go through like it did before...and Ah even tried to text you, and they just got returned...please believe me Ah wasn't ignorin' you or-"
Remy interrupted, "it's okay...I'm havin' the same issue, must be somethin' t' do with the international call thing or somethin'...usually I got it all figured out but somethin' about that phone number seems messed up..."
"Sorry," she sighed.
"It's okay...sorry I got on y' case about it, it's jus'...Y'know, I really hate bein' away from y' this long. When y' comin' back?" he asked, a sigh escaping his own lips.
"We're close to crackin' this, just a few more days maybe...it's drivin' me nuts out here..." she groaned.
After a moment, suddenly the profile picture of Remy on the call screen was replaced with the live image of Remy LeBeau, sitting up looking tired, hair a mess, eyes puffy; behind him she could see the wall was painted in two different colours, one looked grey, the other red.
"Put the camera on...feels like forever since I've seen y'...all I got t' remember y' by here are stupid old photographs of you lookin' miserable at pizza hut."
"Ah don't know if this even has a webcam..." Rogue admitted, she pushed the video icon and waited, her own image popping up in the corner. She looked just as tired as he did.
"Y' still look the same," he said, almost seeming relieved.
Rogue leaned on the table, now that she had him there she didn't really know what to say and face to face it almost seemed more awkward now. Just briefly it crossed her mind to bring up what they had discussed about sex, about how he felt it was his fault it had been rather poor. She couldn't get the words out somehow. She supposed at least he was able to look her in the face much more easily now than when she'd been at the mansion.
"What's goin' on with the walls behind you?" Rogue asked, feeling it was about as much of a topic as she could find.
"Oh that...I been paintin'. First I thought red would look good but...it didn'. But I found some grey paint...tryin' t' fix the mess."
Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek, she wasn't convinced the grey looked much better. He held his phone up and showed her the half-painted room. It definitely did not look nice from the phone's camera, she wasn't certain it would look remotely nicer in person either. "Nice," she lied.
"I fucking hate it," he muttered. "Should have never started...shoulda just left it beige or whatever the hell it was before I even started."
"It'll grow on you."
"Yeah, so does melanoma...I wouldn' wanna live with that either."
Rogue tried to change the subject, she could see the focus on the redecoration was not helping his mood. "You look tired, sugar..."
"Yeah...was a trainin' session early this mornin'," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Was up at four thirty."
"Fuck...Ah'm sorry...it was stupid phonin' you...Ah didn't think Ah'd wake you. Maybe Ah should go-" she sighed.
"No..." he said quickly. "Don' go yet...I'd rather miss the sleep..."
"But you're tired..." she pointed out.
"But I've missed y'..." he admitted.
Rogue thought about this, she wondered if this could be a way to talk about the situation a little. "You have?"
"Yeah..."
"In...what way have you missed me?"
"What kinda question that?" he asked, his blurry image on the screen looked perplexed.
"Ah mean..." Rogue tried to think of how to properly voice her thoughts. "Have...you missed me the way you'd miss...Ah don't know...Belladonna..."
Her husband straightened up, his expression dark, "chere...what the fuck? Are y' tryin' t' start an argument?"
"No," she sighed, "just...god, just forget it."
"No...y' better say what's on y' mind," he commanded, "'cause that was a real unfair thing t' ask...I mean it sounds like y' tryin' t' ask me if I don' miss y' at all..."
"No...that's not-" she tried to explain, not sure how to really elaborate on how she had meant it.
"I mean...has somethin' been said or somethin' about me? Someone say somethin'?"
Rogue paused, "Hmm?" she was curious about what he meant by that. "What would someone have said?"
He shook his head, "Nothin', I jus'...I wanna know where y' get off makin' a comment like that about Belle...I mean...y' tryin' t' accuse me of not missin' y'...I don't know what I did t' deserve that..."
"Ah never said that," Rogue sighed. "That's not what I was...you know what...forget it..."
"Y' in a bit of a mood or somethin' with me?" Remy raised an eyebrow.
"Of course not," Rogue sighed.
"Did I do somethin' t' piss y' off?"
"Of course not...Ahm just...gettin' sick of bein' here is all."
"I'm sick of y' bein' there too..." he gazed away from the phone he was holding, his expression shifted quickly, he looked almost angry and slightly unnerved.
"Remy?" she asked.
He turned his attention back on the phone, "Yeah?"
"Is...is there anythin' you wanna talk about?" she asked carefully.
He gave a deep sigh, "nothin' at all..."
"And everythin' is okay?"
"Everythin' is okay," he assured. He looked so tired, his face sagged and from the blurry picture of him on the screen he looked ten years older.
"You look exhausted, sugar," Rogue ran her hand through her hair, "Ah'm gonna end the call...let you get some sleep..."
"Don' go yet...jus' stay a little longer, okay?" he asked of her.
Rogue watched him, he had lay down, the camera on it's side. He looked terribly sad and so thoroughly exhausted. She wished she knew the right words to tell him everything would be all right and that some day, whatever Jean-Luc had done to him and Jean-Luc's death would be easier to deal with. It was hard to voice these things, hard to acknowledge it because whenever she tried it seemed to hurt him more.
"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.
"Sing t' me a bit, jus' til I fall asleep..." he requested, he lay there looking at her with his tired eyes.
Her cheeks flushed a little, "Remy..." she groaned.
"C'mon...jus' us here...no one gon' hear."
"How about Ah just hum?" she offered, she wasn't an exceptional singer, and never had been. Humming was acceptable, it was hard to hum off key in her opinion.
"Okay," he agreed.
She sat quietly humming the only tune she could think of – something soft by Evanescence – while alt-tabbed onto onto the browser so she could look for any more news articles about missing mutants. When she checked some minutes later, he seemed to be fast asleep, and although she had stopped humming, he seemed to not stir.
"Remy?" she asked softly, to which he did not respond.
Taking one last look at his handsome face, she sat there for a moment, admiring and feeling an ache thinking of just how far away he was; she did miss him more than she had thought she might. She sat there for a moment deep in thought, interrupted by heavy footsteps coming down the hall. She gazed ahead in the dimly lit hallway to see Hank McCoy staggering his way tiredly along, rubbing his face. Quickly she ended the call, she didn't need Hank seeing her watching her husband sleeping.
"Can't sleep either?" she asked.
"A moth kept fluttering near my nose," Hank grumbled, he moved over to the coffee pot, "You've made coffee," he said appreciatively.
"Yeah."
"Thought I may do some more work on this mission, see if I can find any more leads."
Rogue rolled her neck, "same."
"I thought I heard you talking to someone. About twenty minutes ago."
She glanced up towards him, her cheeks burning furiously hot at the thought Hank might have overheard the discussion with Remy...might have overheard her humming to him.
"Skyping with friends, were we?" he glanced down to see the Skype menu almost completely obscured by the browser (but not quite enough).
"Yeah..." Rogue sighed, she supposed it would be easier to tell the truth (at least partially) than to lie and find herself caught out. "Ah...thought Ah might check in with Gambit...see how he's gettin' along now that he's in trainin'."
"And how is he getting along?"
"Fine, he says," Rogue answered. "He's...you know, gettin' along great..."
"Charles mentioned something about wanting to get him into some form of education but he's being rather...resistant regarding the subject," Hank admitted.
Rogue wondered if this was something Hank should have even been disclosing to her. She supposed ultimately it wasn't as if these things were likely to be a secret. "Yeah...he...he left school when he was real young, Ah guess...at least...that's what he told me."
"He did?" Hank poured them coffee, he brought hers to the table after retrieving the milk from the fridge, he set the sugar bowl on the table and he took a seat at the side of the table, "what age?" he asked curiously.
"Fourteen, Ah think he said," Rogue tried to think, "it was like a month ago he told me, it's hard to remember exactly what he said."
"Why did he leave?"
Because his daddy didn't think it was wise keepin' him in full education, didn't probably want to give him ideas, wanted to brainwash him into being a cashcow, Rogue thought dully. "Ah think he just...didn't like the pace."
"I see."
"He's smart, Hank," Rogue poured milk into her cup, "He's good at math...and he's a logical thinker...and the things he can see in people...just by lookin' at them...he's so perceptive."
"He still needs an education, Rogue. What about his future?"
"That's why he's with us, Ah guess."
"Putting his future in the X-Men isn't a good permanent arrangement. He should have options, possibilities. Education is vital."
Rogue forced a strange smile, "you're a teacher, Hank. You have to say that."
Hank smiled too, "perhaps. I do think he would benefit from school."
She tilted her head, looking at Hank curiously, "Why are you tellin' me?"
He sipped his coffee for a moment, "You're rather close to him, aren't you?"
Her cheeks flushed; she wasn't exactly certain how much Hank knew about her relationship with Remy and she would rather keep it as vague as possible right now. The last thing she needed was another person knowing how she felt about the boy, another person who might find fault with the relationship just as Logan did.
"No!" she blurted, eyes wide, "what the heck gave you that idea..."
"Hmm," Hank seemed slightly puzzled, "I guess I assumed that the weeks you spend together, you would have become good friends..." he stared down to the table, Rogue could tell he was thinking of something, weighing the situation. She wondered how much he had observed.
"We're friends," Rogue nodded, "But...but that's it."
"Well...being his friend, it would make you impartial to trying to help steer him in the right direction."
"Right direction of what?"
"Enrolling at Bayville high, just for his final year. It'd be a pity if he missed this opportunity...and I don't think the Professor is comfortable with the idea of having him sitting around the mansion on his own all day while everyone else goes to school or college."
Rogue sighed, "Ah spoke to him before but...he didn't like the idea."
"Try again, but be gentle, don't try to make him feel forced," Hank suggested.
"But you really do want to force him."
"We'd just like to be sure he has chances, Rogue. We'd do the same for every student," he took a long drink from his coffee, then stood up, "I'm going to go get my laptop and we'll see what we can do to find our last target and hopefully find those mutants."
Rogue watched him go, she sat there holding her cup, thinking about Hank's words, her mind a whirling mess of Remy's problems and ideas about Remy's future. Right now, she had to force those back and focus on the task at hand; the faster they completed the mission, the sooner they could get home, the sooner she could be sure Remy really was all right.
Remy hated morning training sessions in the Danger Room; it seemed rather cruel to be getting up at ridiculous hours like four thirty to train. He understood the logic of it all – emergencies could arise at any time of the morning, day or night and they needed to get used to the pace of such an event. But still, to be hauled from a warm bed and into the ridiculously chilly danger room (which as he understood was super cooled to stop the servers behind the walls from burning out), it wasn't his idea of a good morning.
He hated the rush of getting ready, the knowing he'd be fighting along side the New Mutants, listening to them bickering in the hallway, watching them showboat and trying to outdo each other and impress the instructors.
He was usually the first to get down there; the uniform the Professor had assigned him was in an ottoman against his wall, everything ready to be put on the minute an alarm sounded for training. He could be ready in under three minutes; he didn't even need to do much to his hair other than sweep it away from his face. He kept his weapons of choice (his cards, his bo-staff) right by the uniform.
Remy sat outside in the sub-basement hallway right outside, the Danger Room doors wouldn't open until the others arrived and they were yet to get there. They were all probably still fighting over who got to the bathroom first, probably still looking for their boots and belts.
As he sat there alone, his mind drifted to Rogue's call last night; it had been welcome to finally see her but yet he still felt emptier all the same knowing she wasn't going to be home probably for some time yet.
He sat there on the cold steel floor, spinning his unextended telescopic bo-staff absently, wondering why she'd looked so preoccupied (at least as far as he could tell on the grainy poorly lit webcam image). He wondered what she'd meant by asking if she missed him the same way he missed Belladonna. It had been the oddest most unexpected question he was sure he'd ever been asked.
Tabitha's heavy boots coming down the corridor alerted him to her presence long before she even got remotely close by. He turned and watched her, her gait heavy and tired, her hair poorly brushed.
"Y' look..." he tried to think of a nicer way to say she looked quite bad.
"Like shit, I know," she muttered, she pressed her back to the wall and sank down beside him. "I didn't sleep last night."
"Been there," he commented, he laid his bo-staff down and pulled his deck of cards out of the pocket on his belt (it was almost like a utility belt, but less bulky. It definitely wasn't as cool as the belt Batman wore in the movies he'd watched as a child.
Tabitha didn't say anything, he wondered if she hadn't slept because of the things that had been said in the clothes store. Or had she just not slept because it had been a particularly hot night? Silently, Remy sat shuffling cards for a moment.
"Y' wan' see a magic trick?" he asked.
"Sure..." Tabitha shrugged casually.
"Here..." he handed her the pack of cards, "Pick a card...and focus on it real hard. Take the card, push it against y' forehead, hold it there tight and really think about the number. Shuffle them, gimme them back. Mind and remember what the card is...make sure I don' see it either."
Tabitha did as she was told, she picked her card, looking focused for a moment as she put it to her forehead, closing her eyes, looking as if she might be very focused on the card. She placed the card into the middle of the deck and began shuffling. He noted that the girl was quite a decent shuffler, he'd suspected as much, just like he suspected she would.
"Okay," he accepted the cards back, he gave them a quick shuffle, "Now...I'm gon' split this deck int' three..." he split the deck quickly into three sections, and pushed away the two. "And again..." he split deck once again. "And..." he splayed the cards out on the floor, making sure to look rather focused and thoughtful for a moment as he selected her card from the leftover of the deck. "This," he picked it up, "it was this one."
Tabitha accepted the card from him, the two of spades. She gave a vague laugh, "how did you know?"
"Magic."
"You're telepathic?" she asked.
"Jus' observant," Remy took the card back from her, "Look..." he held the card sideways, "y' see it?"
"No..."
"When y' press it t' y' forehead with y' hand, y' bendin' the card a little...this a new deck, all the other cards are pristine, see...not a single bend...except this one card..." he smirked.
"Damn I should have seen that coming..." she rolled her eyes at herself. She watched him shuffling the card again for a moment, "you know other tricks?"
Remy nodded, "I can put a phone int' a bottle, I can break a breadstick wit' a dollar bill. I can make a penny melt right int' the bottom of a beer glass...lots of stupid little tricks..."
"That's sort of cool," Tabitha supposed, "when I was a kid, I used to love magic tricks. Used to sit watching all those magic shows...big illusionists. I always figured later that maybe the guys were mutants."
"Some of them are," Remy shrugged, "that British guy y' see on TV...he's got t' be one of us...no one can do the things he do wit' out havin' somethin' extra."
Tabitha smirked, "guess not..." she adjusted the buckle on her boot, "so where you learn the magic anyway?"
Somehow he hadn't expected to be asked; he'd never expected she would ask. He lowered his eyes, staring distantly into the tiles on the floor. "My dad...my...adoptive dad."
"Was he the one who-" Tabitha began; he was quick to predict exactly what she was going to ask, quick to be sure to cut her off before she could even ask it.
Remy interrupted her quickly, "I don' really wan' talk about him."
"Oh..." said Tabitha, it was more of a whisper than anything. "Okay..."
And it was left just like that; she didn't push him, she didn't try to pry further. She simply sat there, picking at the split ends of a loose strand of hair. He almost expected Jean-Luc to appear right then, to be standing there looming over them both. But the hallway was silent, empty other than them, at least until the others began to arrive. The Danger Room doors hissed open and as he got up he briefly glanced to the blonde, her eyes met his and there was a strange knowing in her expression.
There probably wasn't anyone else then he'd ever met who knew exactly how he felt. It was odd, not feeling so alone, even with Rogue so unbelievably far away.
End of Part Eight
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review for the past few chapters, it's so nice hearing from you all. I liked the observation about the chemistry between Remy and Tabitha. It is rather strong in comparison to the chemistry Rogue has with Remy right now, who knows if that'll change or not ;)
Hope to have some more up in a week or so depending how things go. Hope you all like this instalment, have a great week all :)