BENEATH THE SURFACE
Part Twenty
*** Please be warned that this chapter touches upon the themes of suicide (no, not anyone is attempting to kill themselves, etc, it's references). There's also some scenes of a sexual nature (I can't tell you how long you'll scroll down before you happen upon it).
The first week of School flew by; by his second day, Remy already had the layout of the entire school locked inside his head, knew where he was going, memorised all the teachers names, what classes were where, and for the most part, figured out and adjusted to what teachers were going to give him a harder time than others.
He'd had a few 'almost arguments' with the French teacher (much to the amusement of some of the girls in his class who seemed to find his wit rather amusing), and he was failing miserably in math, he just couldn't get his head around the problems he was being asked to solve. He'd tried cheating by glancing at a nearby classmate's answers a few times and copying down the answers, and although the answers were accurate, when it came to explaining how he had come to the conclusion of the answers, he had no words. There were just some things he couldn't talk himself out of, some things he just couldn't fake.
His Gym, teacher was slightly intolerant of mutants but interestingly enough the only teacher so far who rarely ever gave him a hard time, and other than Chemistry (which was the only class he attended that could be close to Rogue and work with her) it was the only class he really vaguely enjoyed.
By the end school that first week, Remy felt slightly run down; he never usually got the flu, but he was certain that exhaustion, being too overworked and stressed with so much school work, training and lack of sleep was beginning to take it's toll and his immune system was starting to fail. It had started with the sniffles on Thursday night but by Friday, his nose was running like a tap and he was slyly having to hide tissues in his sleeve just to press against his nose during class while he sat and read or wrote.
As he, Rogue and Kurt left their last class of the day (French) that Friday, Remy tried as hard as he could to keep from sniffing too much – he didn't want to draw attention to the fact he felt sick. He hoped Rogue hadn't noticed the slight redness around his nostrils.
"That teacher really has it in for you," Kurt said sounding a little baffled as he walked slightly ahead.
"I had noticed," Remy muttered.
"Ah heard one of the cheerleaders say that Madame Fontaine's husband was screwin' around with his secretary," Rogue commented quietly to the two, "and that he left her durin' summer vacation..."
"How would she know that?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"Ah think she's neighbours with them and she heard their fightin' one night or somethin'," Rogue shrugged. "Anyway, looks like Madame Fontaine is takin' it out on the students..."
"Namely me," Remy grumbled, clutching his French book in his hand, "I mean, I know this shit off by heart, f' fuck sake," he complained.
"Ah know you do," Rogue agreed.
"I coul' tell y' the answer t' every fuckin' question she asks right off the bat, not have t' look it up or nothin'...I been t' France, I can speak fluidly wit' out even needin' t' think about it...so what she got agains' the way I talk I got no fuckin' clue."
"Maybe she's into you," Kurt said, although his expression was uncomfortable when he said it.
Remy snorted, "yeah, well, put it this way, I won' be askin' her t' practise more than French wit' me."
Kurt laughed a little, Rogue rolled her eyes.
"Hey, Rogue, how about you help me practise more than my French?" Remy teased, he tried to keep himself as upbeat and casual as possible when he said it, his eyes only caught the glimpse of Jean-Luc standing in a crowd they passed.
"Shut up," Rogue pushed him a little, "in your dreams."
"Who tol' y' about those?" he smirked, the comment made Kurt laugh, and made him laugh inwardly that the boy suspected nothing as far as he could tell.
"Common sense, pervert," Rogue shook her head at him and stopped at her locker.
"I need to go to the computer department and pick up some software, then I have to get to a dentist appointent...I can make my own way home," Kurt said.
"Okay," Rogue nodded, watching as Kurt disappeared off in the crowd of students before she twisted her combination lock, Remy watched interestedly.
"Ten, thirty five, twenty," he said after a moment, reading off the numbers of her combination without meaning to.
"Oh my god, shut up," she hissed, throwing him a look, "just tell everyone, dipshit."
"Sorry," he gazed into her locker, it was a mess already and the school year had only begun; her jacket was pushed in with a pile of books, a makeup bag. A mirror and an array of goth bands photos were taped to the inside. "No picture of me in there, huh?" he asked.
"Remy..." she said quietly.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, "I don' got one of you in mine either, jus' f' y' information...but I'd like t' have...some day."
Rogue said nothing as she fished out the books she'd need for the weekend.
"Y' wan' go out t' morrow night?" he touched her arm slyly, "me an' you?"
"Ah wish Ah could," she said quietly, "But—"
The two of them got pushed aside by the rush of students trying to get through, a couple of the high school football team throwing a ball across the hallway.
"But?" he asked, a little more loudly.
"But you know why," she said as silently as she could, staring into her locker.
Remy leaned closely, "Rogue...it's been way over a month now...can't we jus' start easin' people int' it? I've played nice, but enough is enough..."
"Soon..." Rogue said softly, "please?"
His eyes shifted to looking across the crowds in the hallway; he caught sight of Tabitha in the far corner talking with one of the boys he was sure was on the football team, he was a hulk of a boy, slightly pudgy, his hair shaved which made his head seem far larger than it probably really was. Tabitha was gazing down at her feet in a bored fashion, almost as if her shoes held more interest than the boy did.
"Y' know him?" Remy asked, tapping Rogue on the shoulder and then gesturing to Tabitha and her 'friend'.
"Just a guy on the football team...he's in the year below us...not very bright. He should have been a senior this year...but his scores were so low they're making him repeat the grade."
Remy frowned, the way the guy leaned close to speak into Tabitha's ear made him quite uncomfortable, the girl clearly wasn't interested in whatever he had to say, and yet, Remy could almost lipread the proposition.
'-My place.'
Tabitha shook her head, he saw her say she wasn't interested, she glanced towards her watch, her expression was slightly intolerant.
The football player his finger over Tabitha's jaw, as if he thought it would almost be romantic, or quite acceptable, but he took a step too far when that finger trailed from her jaw to her neck, and down to her cleavage in one quick swoop.
In one second, Remy snapped, he pushed his way through the crowd of students, grabbed the guy by the arm and twisted him around, pinning him to the nearest locker.
"Y' touch her again and I'll-" Remy began.
"Remy, what the fuck?!" Rogue yelped, running over.
"Look, it's fine, he's just a jerk," Tabitha tried to pull Remy's arm so he'd let go, her voice slightly high, "He's just being stupid."
"She said she weren't interested," Remy tightened his grip, "next time a girl say no, take my advice and walk away."
"You think you're a fucking hard man because you're a mutie?" the football player laughed, "You're dead when I get free."
"Yeah?" Remy asked, "jus' try me..."
"Remy, enough!" Rogue warned.
"Better listen to your girlfriend," said the boy.
Remy let him go, pushing him into the crowd, "she's not my girlfriend," he spat, and right then, he almost said it, almost added, she's my wife.
"He's just a jerk," Rogue tried again, watching the guy walking off in a hurry. "But now he's probably going to get the fucking team to come after you."
"Let them try it," Remy snorted, "I'll take every one of them down."
"Yeah, and get expelled in the process," Tabitha pointed out.
Remy sneered, "they're not going to mess with mutants. He migh' not be bright, but he ain' that stupid."
Tabitha sighed, "Look, I have to go, I have cheerleader practise."
"How you gettin' home?" Remy asked. He had to ask, because he was quite aware if she was being stalked by her father, she might be prone to being pestered as she tried to leave.
"Amara tried out and got accepted – me and her will catch the bus together," Tabitha replied.
"We'll come pick y' both up...jus' text us when it's over," Remy said, he felt Rogue eyeing him slightly suspiciously at the offer.
Rogue collected the items she needed for the weekend and left to go to the parking lot, Rogue checked her phone as she walked.
"Rahne has band practise, Ray is hanging out with a friend...Jamie and Bobby are in detention-"
"No surprise there," Remy snorted.
"Kitty has a dance class, Jubilee is trying out for the dance class...looks like everyone is staying behind for something or other..." Rogue stopped at the van. "But nearly everyone is going to need a ride later."
"Excellent," Remy smirked.
"How is that excellent?" she unlocked the van.
"We ain' really had any time t' gether all week. We got a free day, no trainin', no chores..." he climbed in, watching as she did the same. "Be nice t'...y' know...spend some time t' gether."
"What if someone sees?" she started the van and pulled out of the student parking lot.
"Somewhere private," he suggested softly.
"Private..." she repeated.
"Hotel be nice..."
"No..." she shook her head, "that's embarrassin', Remy. Bookin' into a hotel with no luggage...they'd know what that was for..."
"Oh," he said, feeling slightly irritable that she was making excuses.
After a moment, she spoke up, "is...there somewhere...you know...private...somewhere no one ever goes to?"
"Okay..." he paused, "down in the industrial quarter, there's an abandoned mill...the parking lot there is usually empty..."
"How would you know?"
"I used t' use it as a base of operation...the top of the mill is a great vantage point if y' spyin'. Take the next left."
Rogue pulled onto the road, "why did you have to get involved with Tabitha and that guy?" she sighed, he supposed he'd expected her to eventually ask. "It wasn't your place."
"Guy touched her...she didn' want that attention."
"You're kidding?" Rogue snorted, "she's Tabitha, she always wants that kind of attention."
"People change, chere," Remy pointed out.
"Not really."
"I did."
"Ah don't think you changed," Rogue shrugged, "Ah think...you just...faked a lot."
"Maybe," he supposed, "turn here."
Rogue took every direction he gave until they were pulling through the open gates of the parking lot outside of the abandoned mill. Remy hadn't been there in a while, but nothing had changed, it still looked bleak and run down. Rogue gazed through the window at it, curious eyes carrying over every old brick and broken window. He stroked her arm gently, the thin fabric of her see through top was incredibly soft and incredibly sheer, he could almost feel the warmth of her skin through it.
"It's nice...t' get a moment wit' y'."
"How much time did you spend here?" she asked, still looking around at the building.
"Too long..." he fingered the first button of her blouse, circling it around a little the shining metal.
"It's so far from everything...you'd have needed some pretty good telescopes or binoculars..."
"Yeah...but it's got a good view of the school," he commented, undoing the first button, his eyes falling to the hint of cleavage just above her tanktop beneath, his heart raced just a little. He tried to force away the thought that Jean-Luc might be there with them so he dare not look in the back of the van.
"You know...we could just talk..." she said, stopping him from getting the next button undone.
He looked at her, "About what?"
"Ah don't know...whatever you want to talk about..." she gave a slight shrug.
His fingers never left the button, although her hand clung to his, "why don' y' talk t' me..." he leaned a little closer and breathed hotly to her ear, "About what y' maybe like me t' do here...hmm?"
"No...that's...not what Ah meant...Ah meant...you could talk..." she tried to explain, looking slightly flustered.
Yeah, but what you wan' talk about ain' what I wan' talk about, he thought dully. He didn't need their one hour or so together to made miserable with her wanting to pick at his brain and unleash unhappy things.
"Okay..." he breathed into her ear, making sure she felt how hot the breath was, "how about I talk...about how much...I wan' be inside of y' right now?"
"Remy..." she gasped, he caught the flush of her cheeks, that always made things slightly more exciting, made the blood rush through him, and right now it certainly made his body burn.
"'Bout how hard I'm gettin'..." he took her hand and led it to him, "and how it's you that's makin' it that way..."
"That's...so...uhm..." she breathed. Everything from the way her voice sounded as she tried to get a grip on the situation from the way her chest was rising and falling told him she was beginning to fall under the spell. She seemed so incapable of continuing whatever else it was she wanted to say, so he felt it apt to continue.
"About how all through every class all I coul' think about was how nice it be t' be alone wit' y'. I been thinkin' like it all day...was real difficult t' ignore in Chem class, lemme tell y'...When y' got that much chemistry...real difficult t' hold y' self off."
She turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his and he knew with absolute certainty that it was going to happen, he'd won her over.
"I was thinkin'..." he breathed in deeply, "Maybe f' once, y' coul'...be the top..."
Her face flushed more scarlet than before, "the top..."
"Yeah..." He awkwardly got the second button undone on her top, "I mean...it be a lil' awkward 'cause I got t' grip everythin' t' make sure the condom stay in place but...y' have more control...maybe y' can find a rhythm or somethin' that do it f' y'..."
"Remy...Ah don't know..." she breathed nervously.
"C'mon...y' already wearin' a skirt...ain' gon' be difficult...jus' slip them hose off and y' good t' go. And I been carryin' these latex gloves I stole from the box in the medical supplies..." he admitted as he pulled a pair of out of his school backpack. He was sure by now Hank was starting to wonder why so many of those gloves were going missing.
"What if Ah do somethin' wrong?" she asked anxiously.
"It'll come natural...people been doin' this f' thousands of years...some of them didn' even have communication...some of them jus' had t' let instinct do the work..." he pulled the gloves on and retrieved a couple of elastic bands from his pencil case.
"What are those for?" she asked curiously.
He put the bands on the wrists of the gloves to secure them to his sleeves, "Jus' t' hold 'em in place...make sure no accidents happen."
"You...have this pretty figured out..."
"Yeah...if we want this t' work, we gotta adapt somehow, right?"
There was a slight awkwardness as Rogue kicked her boots off and rolled her panty-hose down. Her slim legs were so pale that it was always startling at first glance, but it did nothing to hurt his excitement. The moment of getting the condom on and making sure the edge was secured past his fly was always slightly awkward, especially with Rogue watching. She climbed over him, bumping her head and making it almost seem funny for a moment; he wished he could kiss her and that was the toughest part about being so close to her in this position.
Softly, he murmured that he wished he could, the way her eyes dropped shyly, her lips slightly smiling at the confession made his heart swell more than what was between them. For a few moments, they only touched; he was so aware of her gauging every reaction, every inexperienced little squeeze and rub she was watching for his response. He almost liked that, that she was trying to work out just exactly what he liked the best, and he refrained from telling her the way he might have had she been any other woman. He wanted her to learn it herself, he wanted to learn with her.
Finally, their bodies joined and this time he had no need to hide just how good it felt as there wasn't a soul nearby to hear. She was rather uneasy about it, he could feel the tension in her body, the way she eased herself down and rocked, her expression concentrated almost as if she were afraid of coming down too far and injuring herself. He doubted that was going to happen with his hand gripping himself to prevent the condom from rolling.
As good as it felt it was still frustrating, he felt as if he were making love only halfway, and it seemed to take far longer for him to get anywhere because of that. For Rogue, she didn't seem to be getting anywhere with it. He could have instructed her, could have taught her everything he knew, but he didn't want to push the situation; push her any more or say the wrong thing, he knew he'd push her out of her comfort zone and she was already teetering on the edge of that. He'd been tempted – especially during the rather tedious middle of the love making – to take some control and participate the way he normally would, but he found himself trying to be patient for her sake, determined to let her find her own way.
Let her find her own way first, let her get comfortable before it gets t' the next stage, he told himself.
When it was over, he still felt more than satisfied physically, but emotionally, something lacked and he was certain it was her lack of fulfilment that left him feeling that way. She moved back to the drivers seat awkwardly, sitting there rubbing her slightly sore knees (apparently this position was uncomfortable in more ways than one). Remy watched her from the passengers seat, wishing he could read her mind in those moments. He stroked her back lightly, chewing his lip thoughtfully.
"Is it 'cause I ain' in deep enough?" he wondered aloud.
"Pardon?" she asked, turning to look at him in horror.
"Y' don' feel much, do y'?"
"Remy, Ah feel plenty," Rogue's face was a furious red.
"Y' came in the closet...but y' ain' comin' wit' sex. Is it me? Am I hurtin' y'?"
"It doesn't hurt now," Rogue assured.
"So it wasn' any better then? Bein' on top didn' help y' get any closer?"
"Do we have to talk like this?" she asked.
"We shoul' be able t'...now that we've done some stuff it shoudn't be embarrassin' anymore..." he pointed out.
Rogue said nothing, her expression was a little lost..
"Maybe y' need me t' take y' from another angle..."
She slowly turned and looked towards him.
"From behind..."
"You dare-"
"I don' mean like that...I mean...maybe jus'...y' know...it get where y' need me maybe..."
"Don't," she hissed.
"Why not?
"Look, Remy...we can have sex...you can touch me...but don't go talking about it after...or...tryin' to assess it like it's some test at school we've not quite figured out how to ace yet..."
"But that's what it is," he straightened up a little, "when I have sex...I wan' get a fuckin' A plus! Not a fuckin' F for fuck-failure."
Rogue tossed him a dirty look.
"Look...I...I've been kind of, y' know...patient...and all...but somethin' ain' right if it ain' good f' you. Maybe it help if I...show y' the stuff that I know..." he offered. "I'm good at this, if y' jus' let me-"
"No," she replied quickly. "It's too soon to turn this into the kind of things Ah've heard about you..."
"Why? What y' hear about me?" he asked curiously.
"That you're...adventurous."
"Okay...well...if adventurous ain' y' thing right now," Remy leaned his elbow on the door and let his cheek rest upon his hand, "What if y' jus' tell me what it is y' wan'..." he suggested. "I promise I ain' gon' be shocked..."
"Ah don't know what Ah want, Remy. This is all new for me," she reminded.
"Mus' have an idea."
"Ah don't..."
"Y' wan' me t' talk durin'...guide y' along? Or...be a little more aggressive?"
"No!" she admonished.
"Then what?"
"Why does it matter?"
"'Cause I don' want this bein' one sided wit' you. Sex is meant t' be mutually good, it's meant t' be good f' us both..."
"It was good..."
"How is it good f' you?"
"'Cause..." she shrugged "it...just...is..."
"How?" he demanded again, feeling quite frustrated with this.
"Because it...makes you happy," she supposed.
"What'd make me happy, is if we coul' get on the same page, chere..." he said, "like openin' up more...talkin' about stuff. I wan' t' know what y' like...what y' don't like...then I can work wit' it."
"It isn't necessary."
"Yes it is...it's important t' me..."
"Okay..." she sighed, for a moment she stared at the steering wheel, expression slightly clouded, "if Ah...said that...it feels nicer when we're not...you know...goin' all the way...would...that make things bad?"
He examined her, "so what y' sayin' is...y' don' like sex..."
"No...Ah...don't mind it...it's just...it feels nicer...when you're...not in..."
"Okay..." he said, he looked away processing this, "so...full sex jus' don' do it..."
"Ah'm sorry."
"Ain' your fault," he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a slightly devastating revelation that he was trying his best not to let ruin his day.
Rogue sighed, but he saw the answer in her expression alone, she didn't need to say any more.
"So...y' prefer foreplay."
"God," she muttered, he could hear the disbelief in her voice that they were actually having this conversation.
"I fuckin' hate y' powers," he muttered.
"Huh?" she turned to look at him questioningly.
"It's so fuckin'...frustratin'. I wan' do things t' y' that woul' make a huge difference t' y' bein able t' really enjoy it..."
"Like go deeper," she supposed, looking away, "Without a condom."
"Like kiss y'..." he stated, "use my tongue on y' skin..."
Rogue gave a deep unhappy sigh.
"Like eat y' out," he added crudely.
"Remy!" she gasped, staring at him in disgust.
"Every time, it'd work...every time...no question."
"Shut up!" she remarked, he saw the look on her face that meant she was dangerously close to smacking him for this kind of talk.
"Lil' fingerin' t' start wit...not jus' rubbin' but puttin' them in deep...no gloves...then goin' down...kissin' it, gettin' t' know every little fold...seein' it swell, go red..." he breathed.
Rogue grimaced.
"Use my mouth...my tongue...my hands...that's how it shoul' be..."
She pushed her legs together, her expression a little pained.
Raising an eyebrow, he slowly reached to her leg and ran his latex-gloved finger up her thigh, "bein' able t' feel y' heat on my mouth...taste y' on my tongue..." he circled his finger. "That's how I wan' it..."
"Ssh..." she begged, clearly embarrassed.
"Maybe go that extra mile, push my tongue in-"
"Stop..." Rogue turned to look at him.
He pushed his hand between her legs, "Y' hotter and wetter now than y' was a few minutes ago..." he realised.
"Why do you have to talk that way?" she gasped at him.
"'Cause sometimes talk is jus' as powerful as actions..." he began rubbing at her, "combine a lil' action wit' a lil' fantasy, it can be...pretty real..." he went a little harder. "Jus' imagine how fuckin' incredible it's gon' be, chere, when y' get the control...and we're t' gether...all the dirty little things I'm gon' do..."
He had her, and it took barely any time at all; her head fell back against the seat, her eyes rolling in her head, she stifled her gasps by biting her lip.
"C'mon...let it out..." he breathed, continuing, knowing it would become unbearable, "no one but me here t' hear..."
She shook her head, holding onto the edges of the seat as he brought her over, the intensity of the moment nearly had him aching to begin all over again, but time was running short, and besides, he hadn't brought more condoms, he hadn't expected sex this week let alone this day.
He slowed, letting her catch her breath and come down. She sat there trembling in the seat. "Better now...ain' it?"
She gave a slow tired nod, turning to look at him with eyes that were soft. There were a good few moments of silence, it was more comfortable, just listening to the slight wind picking up the dried leaves and litter in the parking lot.
"If only I had a cigarette," he sighed, "always caps the entire thing off real nice."
"Too bad, you said you'd quit," she reminded, she went about pulling her underwear and pantyhose back on awkwardly. While she was distracted, he raised his gloved hand close to his face to smell the glove, he was certain the act would disgust her, he didn't want her to see that, she'd never understand the importance of something like knowing her scent. There wasn't any smell that he could detect, not even the usual latex smell of the gloves.
Fuck, losin' my sense of smell thanks t' this stupid cold, he turned slowly to her. He wasn't sure if she knew or not if the van smelled of sex at all. If they would be picking the others up soon, how were they supposed to explain that smell?
"Do me a favour and stop at Baymart on the way back t' the school," he said, pulling on his seatbelt.
Rogue buckled her boots, "why?"
"I need some things," he lied.
She didn't question it, "Yeah, that's fine, Ah need some stuff too," she supposed, she glanced at her watch, "they'll call when we're supposed to go pick them up so Ah think we have time."
The ride to Baymart was peaceful, comfortable, and if there was a smell of sex in the van, she didn't say.
The others, most of them are virgins, they wouldn' know that smell if they caught it, Remy decided. But Tabitha, she's gon' know. Me and Rogue show up wit' that smell in the back of the van, it's gon' be suspicious, Remy realised.
In Baymart, the shopping experience felt strangely reminiscent of being back in Louisiana. He carried the basket, their items within mixed together, her deodorants and his, her new toothbrush and his new razors. It felt nice, it felt normal, a husband and wife shopping for supplies. He stopped in the aisle, not far from the razors were the condoms, he caught Rogue giving him a look.
"What?"
"Seriously?" she asked, "We're about to go pick people up and you're going to buy condoms? What if someone goes through the bag?"
"No one is gon' through the bag," he replied, picking up a few packets.
"Is that what we're here for?"
"No. I needed deodorant and razors," he responded. And Febreeze, he thought uneasily. To distract her from the fact there was a bottle of Febreeze in the basket, he checked the packet of one brand of flavoured condoms, "What flavour y' like better? Mint or cherry-"
Rogue snatched them out of his hand and put them back on the shelf, "nice try."
He laughed at her, "aww, and there I was thinkin y' had a sweet tooth."
"Not that sweet," she walked away further down the aisle to pick up a bottle of hair conditioner, she paused, standing there, looking at the label, he wasn't sure what was so important about checking the label on these things, didn't they all do the same thing? He didn't even bother with shampoo, he used the same shower gel he washed his body with.
She don' care what's on the label, she's embarrassed, she's pretendin' t' be more interested in somethin' else, he realised, feeling slightly guilty about putting her in that position with the joke.
Remy was about to leave the aisle to go find something to snack on when Rogue called out to him in a hushed voice.
"Cherry."
Turning to stare at her, he saw her still looking at the conditioner bottles, he had to recompose himself for a moment, the thought was almost powerful enough to cause noticeable excitement and he didn't quite need that in a supermarket, his t-shirt wasn't quite long enough to hide it.
Dropping the box of cherry flavoured condoms into the basket with the others and his various items, he turned around the corner, almost running head on right into Jean Grey. "Jean..." he said, trying to not sound so surprised, "fancy seeing y' here..."
"They're having a sale on Laundry detergent, if you have the coupon, Ororo asked me to come get twelve bottles," Jean explained, gesturing to the cart behind her, her eyes fell to his basket, he wished suddenly that the boxes of condoms weren't quite so obvious at the top of the damn basket.
Remy tried to find an excuse, "Well...I'm in high school..." was all he could manage, he gave a shrug.
"I...see," Jean's cheeks turned a little pink, she straightened a little, seeming to be fighting the embarrassment, "Well...better safe than sorry, I suppose."
"Absolutely," he replied; something dropped into the basket, Rogue had come around the corner, he turned and looked at her, as she realised Jean was there, her expression fell.
"Rogue, I didn't realise you were here too," said Jean, "I didn't even notice the van outside."
"Yeah, we had t' park at the side," Remy commented, he was wondering when Rogue was going to reply and how she was going to react.
"Ah...guess Ororo sent you on the detergent sale run..." Rogue realised, glancing towards the shopping cart at Jean's back.
"Yeah..."
"Ah needed conditioner," Rogue said, she was fighting her usual panic and embarrassment rather well, Remy felt, he was almost impressed. "The herbal essences one is on sale, by the way...three for two," she tossed a thumb over her shoulder.
"I might get in on that," Jean said thoughtfully, "I'll see you both back at home, okay?"
"Yeah...sure...later," Rogue nodded.
As she and Remy went to the checkout, Remy felt her smack his arm hard. "You had to buy condoms today!" she hissed under her breath. "Did she see?!"
"Yup."
"Oh my god..."
Remy began loading the items onto the belt, "She didn' say anythin'."
"What if she had?" Rogue asked in dismay.
"I guess I'd have asked about the cystitis relief box she had in her cart."
"Ew," Rogue made a face, "Ah didn't need to know that."
"Nothin' came up, so it's all good," Remy smirked, "and you and I are good for a while at least."
"Ah'm not sure it'll do any good now," she sighed.
"Oh?" he asked worriedly looking at her suddenly.
"Seein' as how Ah'm never goin' near you again after that."
He smirked a little, "y' won' be able t' help y' self," he assured.
At the back of the van, he loaded the bags but removed the boxes of condoms and slipped them into his backpack. As he'd been packing the Febreeze, he'd loosened the cap and it had spilled into the bag and as he put it down it dropped through the holes in the plastic.
"Shit...what's that?" Rogue gaped.
"Fuck...it's Febreeze," he groaned, "got it f' the laundry hamper in my room...socks stink somethin' fierce sometimes before I can get t' my laundry..."
"At least the van will smell fresh," Rogue supposed.
Remy fixed the cap and sprayed it a few times for good measure pretending to make it seem as if he were merely checking the bottle wasn't defective. "Sure will."
Before leaving the back, he grabbed the can of deodorant (the most pungent one he could find) and took it to the front with him when she wasn't looking. As Rogue was buckling up her seatbelt, he slipped the can beneath his t-shirt and began spraying it heavily, wincing at the cold sting on his skin.
"Remy, what the hell-?!" Rogue gazed at him.
"It got a little sweaty earlier, I stink, chere," he sprayed it more, onto his t-shirt, onto his jeans, making sure it was getting everywhere, "what y' wan' me t' do, sit here while everyone asks what that funny oniony smell be?"
"Ah don' smell onions," Rogue wrinkled her nose, as she rolled down the window, she coughed a little, "Now all Ah smell is that stupid cheap musky shit you just bought."
Yeah, that's exactly why I bought the muskiest thing I could find, he thought smugly.
Rogue checked her phone as it began beeping, "that's band practise done, guess we have to go now."
Remy gazed over at her, "thanks, by the way."
"For?" she asked, gazing at him as he put the deodorant in his backpack.
"F' takin' the time wit' me, f' makin' the effort, f' bein' wit me..." he reeled off, "f' jus' spendin' some time on y' own wit' me."
"Ah wanted the time too," She admitted softly.
"When we gon' tell everyone, chere? This sneakin' around is gettin' real tirin'."
"Soon," she promised, pulling the van out of the parking lot at the side of the Baymart. "Just a little longer, please?"
"But-"
"It's nice, isn't it?" she asked pointedly, "Having the secret...sneakin' off together..."
"It's...nice, yeah, but...I'd like t' be able t' hol' y' hand wit' out worryin' who gon' see."
"Just a little while longer? Besides, we have to figure out what to do about Tabitha..."
"Thanks t' the mess you made of it," he pointed out. "But don' fret...I'll figure somethin' out."
"Okay," Rogue smiled a little, she stopped at a red light and reached over to take his hand; just as their hands touched, there was a loud and rather sharp sound and Remy looked at the windscreen, seeing a massive crack suddenly appear right across the glass.
He gaped, the crack was perfect, one long thin line right from one corner to the other. It was impossible.
"What the hell?!" Rogue blinked, leaning forward, "How..." she lightly grazed her gloved fingers against the glass. "Nothin' hit it...Ah don't understand..."
"Don' touch it, it might cave or somethin'..." he warned.
"But..." she shook her head in awe.
"Mus' been some kind of flaw in the glass...maybe a rattle in the van weakened it...I dunno...they say if the tiniest crack or flaw in the glass ain' fixed it can crack wit' the tiniest bump..."
"But the van wasn't even movin'," Rogue pointed out.
"Drive t' the nearest repair place y' can think of..." Remy suggested.
"Noooooo," Rogue shook her head, "we don't let outsiders touch this van...there's...you know...modifications that aren't really uhm...legal to have on a road."
"Oh."
"We can't let someone mess with the van and find them...look, Hank or Logan can probably fix this...if we drive careful, it should be okay right?"
"Maybe," Remy drew his breath, "Jus' hope it doesn' smash while we're in here."
"It's safety glass, it should be okay," Rogue supposed.
Remy glanced into the wing mirror at his side, he could see a skewed version of Jean-Luc standing there, it was hard to read the bastard's expression but Remy was sure the crack had been his doing.
Leave us alone, Remy thought angrily. Y' ain' gon' stop us bein' t' gether, that's the end of it. Y' can throw bookcases on us, y' can set off car alarms, but y' will never stop me from lovin' her.
"Why is it," began Logan, staring at the X-Men's black van as it was parked in the garage, "that every time you two are together, somethin' of ours gets broken?"
Rogue leaned on the hood of the van, "it's not like we even did anythin'," she shrugged, "We were sittin' at a red light, and it just cracked...Ah saw it happen right before my eyes...in a flash, there it was."
"There was no tiny chips or anything before?" Logan ran his fingers across the glass tentatively, "nothin' hit it the last time you used it or anything?"
"No," Rogue replied, "car alarm has been acting up, but," she admitted, "it went off when the car wasn't even moving and we were hanging out inside. And on Thursday, Ah had to pump up one of the tires, but Ah've got the feelin' that was kids at school lettin' the air out."
Remy looked at her curiously, he'd been standing at the other side of the van, his expression thoughtful, "y' never mentioned that yesterday..."
"It didn't occur to me," Rogue shrugged, "Ah had it done before you even got to the van."
"It was probably kids," Logan supposed, "it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for them to do something to the windscreen..." he said thoughtfully. "It's odd though...a lot of weird things happening around here lately, usually when you're both in the same place," he threw her a strange look.
"Just coincidence," she replied, she opened the van to take her backpack out. As she turned, she noticed Logan's nostrils were flaring.
"You spray about half a can of deodorant in there?" his brows furrowed.
"It was hot," Remy replied rather simply.
"Yeah, I'll bet," said Logan, almost knowingly. Could he smell it? It hadn't occurred to Rogue up until that moment, but she realised if he had smelled it the last time and she had showered, how strong must that scent be now? "You know, I get that the van is adapted to be a recreational vehicle," Logan continued, "But there's certain things it's not meant for."
Her cheeks flushed, she looked away, trying to act rather innocently.
"Give a thought to the suspension."
"Suspension is fantastic," Remy retorted smartly.
"Godddd," Rogue groaned under her breath, her cheeks burning beneath her hair.
"At least I should be thankful you're driving safe, I suppose," said Logan after a moment, he was looking at the side of the van.
"Huh?" she asked.
He extended one Adamantium claw and raised it up, there was a used condom hanging from the end of it, "It was hanging from the front tire, got caught in the hubcap. Nice goin'."
Rogue threw an angry look at Remy. Damn it, why didn't you be a little careful where the condom went?! She wanted to yell at him.
Logan tossed the condom into the trash and threw a few paper towels over it to hide it, "be careful next time. If that had been seen, how were we supposed to explain it?"
"Maybe it got picked up from the road," Rogue tried to explain, "for all you know, it ain't even ours."
"Don' try and appease him, chere," Remy moved around the van to her side and put his hand on her shoulder, "he ain' stupid, he can smell that it's ours."
"Shut up," Rogue warned him.
"Look, I shouldn't have to have this talk with both of you," Logan frowned, "You want to do things, do it off of the property."
"We weren't on the property."
"The van is included as the property," Logan snarled. "You need to be...intimate..." he put nicely, "You do it elsewhere."
"Jealous?" Remy teased, a smirk playing about his face.
"LeBeau, I'm warnin' you-" Logan began, pointing the same extended claw towards him like a warning finger.
"Remy, enough," Rogue got in between them, "it's the rules, okay? And we agreed..."
Remy was looking meanly at Logan, his eyes seemed to flicker with a mix of amusement and daring for just a brief second.
"Go do your homework," Rogue commanded Remy.
"Of course, darling," Remy put sweetly, he swept his hand across her hair lovingly, making sure to make a show of it for Logan's benefit, and then left the garage.
"He's on thin ice, Rogue," Logan stated.
"He's just...playin' around, he does that. He's tryin' to get to you and you keep lettin' him," Rogue folded her arms.
"Rogue, maybe you should back off from him for a while..." Logan said.
"Are you serious? How are-"
"Not because he's pissin' me off," Logan shook his head, "because I think somethin' about him is puttin' you in some kind of danger."
"What danger?"
"You nearly got hit by a bookcase...the windscreen, the glass jar..."
"The glass jar nearly hit Remy..." Rogue pointed out.
"It could have hit you," Logan pointed out. "Just humour me. I want to make sure you're safe until we can figure out what the heck is going on."
"Logan-"
"I looked in his bedroom on Tuesday while you were all at school, Rogue. Know what I found under that mattress of his?" Logan asked, eyes squinting.
"Porn?" Rogue shrugged.
"The screws to that bookcase..."
Rogue blinked, "huh?"
"They weren't damaged...other than a tiny bit of rust, they were in pretty good shape...they'd been unscrewed from the bookcase, not broken."
"Why would he do that? The bookcase nearly fell on both of us."
Logan frowned, but didn't reply.
"Look, Ah'm not gonna keep away from my husband," she said in a low voice, "besides...we're in classes together...he needs me to help him study for school. Ah can't not be with him. And as for anythin' else...it's time you butted out."
"Rogue-"
"No!" she snapped, "Ah'm eighteen now, he's eighteen, we're doin' nothin' wrong. Ah said Ah wouldn't ask for any allowances or special treatment, but maybe it's not selfish to ask for just a little leeway when it comes to this. It's not like we're sleepin' together for kicks, it's not like we're just fuck buddies!" she snapped. "We're married!"
"Not in the house, not in the van. Wherever else you go, whatever else you do, is up to you."
"Fine," she rolled her eyes at him. "Can Ah go now?" she put her backpack over her shoulder.
"Yes," he muttered, "go do your homework."
Rogue was fuming with the argument, she was humiliated that Logan knew once again about their intimate time together, and she was disturbed that Logan seemed to think there was something sinister about Remy and these accidents that kept occurring as of late. Why would Remy do anything like that? There was no way any of it was deliberate, she'd seen the fear in his eyes, the shock at each event.
She stopped in the hallway, hearing voices; she leaned against the wall and listened closely. It was Remy and Tabitha.
"I just feel like, I don't know...something is going to happen..." Tabitha was saying, her voice slightly soft.
"Look, nothin' is gonna happen..." Remy replied, he sounded quite sure. "Did that guy give y' any more trouble after we left?"
"No..." Tabitha replied.
"Who was he?"
"He asked me out, I didn't want to go."
"I'm glad y' didn'...I know his type..."
Rogue frowned, wondering why Remy should be so concerned over the boys she dated or who were interested in her.
"Every day, I get half a dozen of those offers..." Tabitha admitted, "it used to be kind of fun but...lately it's...been a pain."
"I know," Remy replied, sounding almost sympathetic.
"Are you busy tonight?" Tabitha asked.
"I got homework to do," Remy replied; Rogue thought it still sounded so strange coming from his lips. It sounded alien coming from him.
"It's just...everyone has plans but me...and...me and you haven't really hung out...you're always with Rogue these days, you two are thick as thieves."
Rogue smirked, thinking how strangely apt it sounded. At least one of them was a thief.
"Me an' Rogue...we're...y' know, we're close."
"Yeah, but...what does your wife think about that?" Tabitha asked pointedly.
Rogue winced, hoping he wasn't about to blow their secret to the girl.
"She ain' too bothered about it," Remy supposed.
"Either because your wife doesn't love you or because she knows Rogue isn't any use to you."
Any use?! Rogue thought in dismay.
"Tabitha," Remy said, sounding slightly irritated.
Rogue made a point of making some footsteps to have it sound as if she were approaching from the hall, then she came out from where she'd been hiding, "Hey, Remy, you ready to do that homework?"
Remy glanced towards her, his expression almost guilty, "yeah...I'm..." he rubbed his nose a little, "jus' waitin' f' you, chere."
It was strange, being caught between wanting to tell him off for calling her that in front of anyone else and wanting to be almost proud that he had, as if he were making a point.
"You're catching a cold," Tabitha said knowingly, gesturing to Remy's nose, "you're going a little red around here..."
"Yeah, it's nothin'," Remy waved her off.
Rogue examined Remy, how had she not noticed that? How had she let it slip? His nose was red, true enough, even a little cracked now that she looked.
"If you like, I can make you some soup or...get you some cold pills or something."
"He's a grown man, he can take care of himself," Rogue pointed out coolly, she wished she didn't feel so territorial about him when Tabitha was around, it came so naturally that she couldn't help herself.
"Yeah, well, his wife isn't here to do it..." Tabitha trailed off.
Yes she damn well is, Rogue frowned. "Ah told her Ah would look out for him."
"Yeah, but you're not doing a very good job, Rogue," Tabitha retorted.
"I'm fine, Christ, I got the sniffles, I don' need babyin'..." Remy rolled his eyes at both of them. "Rogue, c'mon, we don' got all night."
"We don't?" Rogue asked.
"No, I got t' do some trainin' wit' Hank later."
Rogue gazed at him curiously, it was the first he'd even mentioned about it, hadn't he thought to say this in the car? Why hadn't he told Tabitha about that when she'd asked if he was free only moments ago?
The two of them went to the library; this time, they moved to a table far from any of the bookcases. It was quiet within, the smell of furniture polish and floor wax was particularly strong in here, Rogue realised it must have just been cleaned.
"What training are you doin' with Hank?" Rogue asked as she lay her books out on the table.
"Somethin' about the blackbird, I don't know, he weren' specific when he text me," Remy shrugged.
Rogue gazed at him, "Why didn't you say you weren't feeling too well?"
"'Cause I didn' need the attention," he shrugged.
"What attention?"
"That. I don' get sick all that often."
"Except from Hangovers," Rogue pointed out.
"Those are the exception," he replied, "But otherwise, I'm usually healthy. Can't remember the last cold I even had...it's a weird time of the year t' be gettin' one."
"Maybe it's just allergies," Rogue replied.
"I don' get allergies...not unless it's t' Blood Oranges...those make me swell up pretty bad."
"Good to know."
"You also make me swell up, but that's a different story."
"I don't know why I'm back here," Remy sighed, he stared down at the rug in Dr. Forbes office. It was a new rug, different from last time. It wasn't an antique, but he could see the cost of it just by the texture, the rise of the pile. When he'd stood upon it, it had felt thick, but firm beneath his boots; it was expensive. "Y' got a new rug."
Doctor Forbes stared at him, he could see her trying to read him, "you have a keen eye. The rug that was there was nearly identical."
"Nearly, but not quite," he remarked, he moved his eyes around the room, "Different lampshade, and a new piece of wall art," he noted. "Y' been doin' a lil' decoratin'. Y' very minimalist..."
She gave a slight nod.
"Bet y' home is far different."
Dr. Forbes tilted her head curiously, "What makes you think that?"
"People like you," he nodded in her direction, "clean-cut, exquisitely dressed, y' office has t' reflect a certain kind o' persona. No clutter here, jus' like y' head is meant t' be, so we sucker customers or patients if y' prefer assume that y' gon' be clear-headed and rational enough t' help us knock some of the clutter out of ours."
The psychiatrist said nothing, she listened closely though.
"But at home, I bet this ain' you..." he gestured, "I coul' tell y' who y' are outside of this place."
"Could you?" she asked interestedly.
"When y' shook my hand the first time, I noticed it; y' got callouses, all rough and hard. And y' nails, trimmed down real close, no manicure, nailpolish..."
"And what does that tell you?"
"That y' use y' hands a lot, that y' do more than just psychiatry, that y' do physical things. And y' legs...when y' walk t' that chair, I see the muscles, y' got the legs of a runner...and y' arms are slightly thick f' those suits y' wear, not fat but built, strong and toned..."
She leaned forward a little, rather intrigued with these observations.
"Y' face..." he gestured to his own, "windburnt since the last time I see y'...right on the apples of y' cheeks and the front of y' nose...y' tried t' hide it wit' makeup but it didn' work. The inspirational wall art out in the hall? All mountains...Everest, Kilimanjaro, Mont Blanc..." he reeled off, "recognised most of 'em except the one near y' door."
"Ben Nevis," she replied, "in Scotland."
"If I had t' bet a million dollars at this moment in time t' what y' do in y' free time, Dr. Forbes," he leaned back in his seat, feeling slightly more comfortable having taken control of the discussion in the way he always did so well. "I'd say y' was a climber."
"Very astute," she admitted.
"I used t' climb too," Remy replied, "not...not mountains...but buildin's...scaffolds..."
"You worked in the building trade? Roof repairs? Or window repairs...or cleaning?" she asked interestedly.
"I...dabbled," he supposed. One heist had led him to casing a high rise penthouse by pretending to be a window cleaner...that qualified surely?
"Climbing can be rather invigorating," she admitted. "The first few tentative steps at the bottom, the beginning of an even pace, the struggle as you begin to ascend further...the thinking you may never make it...and then to get there, to look down and see how far you have come."
Remy stared at her, he felt his expression turn hard and he couldn't help it, "y' talkin' in metaphors, ain' y'."
"You're rather sharp for your age," she confessed, her expression thoughtful, "one of the brightest eighteen year old's I think I may have ever treated."
"What gives y' the impression I'm bright?" he muttered.
"Your observational skills, the way you describe things...you have this dark intense expression of understanding on your face that I don't see in a lot of young men your age. I see you, sitting there, taking everything in, looking at every one thing as if it is the first time you've seen it and will be the last time you ever do. You look at things like a man who is evaluating the worth and meaning of every little thing you look at."
Yikes, was I that obvious?
"These types of skills are usually ingrained from a very early age..." said Dr. Forbes seriously, "from parents."
Remy's heart sank into his stomach. "Here we go again," he mumbled under his breath.
"Your father?"
"Yes," he commented, he stared off into space. "It's like y' say...he tell me t' look at everythin' and try t' determine what it's worth. Even people."
"Even people?" she queried.
"He say that y' should always look at people, try t' determine as fast as y' can who they are and how y' can use it t' y' advantage. Sure that's what you do in y' profession here too, doc," he commented.
"Is that what you think I do?" she asked.
He snorted a little, "Y' think I don' understand how this works? How y' get so rich enough t' afford a two thousand dollar rug f' an office and trips all over the world t' climb y' mountains? Y' look at me and y' sit there readin' me and makin' notes...then y' got t' figure out the best way t' keep me talkin', keep me openin' closets full of skeletons and cans full o' worms so that y' make buck upon buck under the guise of therapy. It's why y' keep bringin' up Jean-Luc, 'cause y' know that it's like snappin' the lock off of a pandora's box. Y' know once that fuckin' lock snaps that there's no way of puttin' it back on again."
"Did you know Pandora's box was actually a jar?" said Dr. Forbes, she looked at him, unfazed by his accusation.
He snorted, "so?"
"Do you even know what the story is?"
"No," he replied sombrely.
"Pandora was the first woman on Earth in Greek mythology; Zeus, the god that ordered her creation, betrothed her to Epimetheus and on their wedding, Pandora was given a stunning jar as a gift with instructions to never open it. Eventually, driven by sheer impulse and curiosity, she opened the jar which unknown to her, had been filled with evil. The evil escaped and spread and although she tried to close the container, already it was far too late. There was only one thing that was in the bottom of the jar, Elpis, the spirit of hope."
Remy frowned a little, "so...what...y' sayin' that if I let this...pandora's box thing open up, there's gon' be hope at the bottom?" he laughed darkly.
"If you didn't believe there was any hope in that Pandora's Box, Mr. LeBeau, I doubt you would be here."
He looked to the floor, "let me guess..." he breathed in, "the only solution t' get t' it, is t' let all the evil out first."
"The first step, Mr. LeBeau, is to unlock that box and open it up."
He stood up, this talk made him anxious and he couldn't sit still like that, he moved over to the fish tank to look at it, hoping it might calm him a little inside, "y' see...the problem with that is, last time someone pried it open a lil'...somethin' got out..."
"Your ghost? Your father."
He gave a weak nod.
"What did he do to you?"
"What didn' he do woul' be more the question," Remy sighed, he looked at her, "can...we talk about this another day?"
"Have you considered that talking about this may move this ghost from your life?"
"Why woul' I consider that?" Remy scoffed, "the last time I talked about him, it got worse...every time I try t' talk about him...it gets worse..." he ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry..." he shook his head and headed for the door, "I...I can't do this right now, I can't."
He left the office and stood outside the door for a moment, his back pressed against it; his head was pounding with the threat of sudden tears, his hands were shaking, he felt cold and clammy and sick. He glanced around the waiting room, three people glanced back at him, one woman with a nervous disposition, an elderly Asian man with thick glasses and what looked to be dyed hair, and...Jean-Luc, who was sitting, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, his posture casual, relaxed.
Remy stared down at Jean-Luc and frowned, "Leave me the fuck alone!" he warned and took off in a jog to meet Logan down at the car. It wasn't until he'd gotten out of the building that he realised he must have looked like a raving lunatic...yelling at an empty chair.
"You're out really early..." Logan remarked, he was sitting in the car, a book about the first world war in his hands. "Couldn't have been in there more than fifteen or twenty minutes..." he raised his wrist to check his watch.
"Yeah...I got a headache, can't think straight," Remy commented, "think my head is jus' too full of school work and shit t' think clear."
"I'd ask if you had even been in at all if I hadn't stood and watched you go into that office," Logan commented, "don't make a habit of this; those sessions are expensive and Charles is footing this bill."
"I told him I wanted to be billed," Remy turned, frowning.
"Too bad."
"Why couldn' he jus' listen?"
"Look, I know you've had a bad run of it, but the Professor wanted to do something nice, something to help."
"Nice?!" Remy suddenly snapped; he glanced through the window towards the street, Jean-Luc was standing by a coffee shop. "Y' know another word f' nice? Favour!"
Logan didn't so much as respond, he closed his book and put it on the dashboard, pulled on his seatbelt, and started the car.
"And y' know the thing about favours? Y' got t' pay them back!" Remy got out of the car, slammed the door hard and began walking away.
"LeBeau, what the hell are you doing?" Logan demanded, he pulled the car forward, following Remy down the street.
"Y' think I don' know that somewhere along the lines this is all an investment?!" Remy demanded, "put in a few thousand here, a few thousand there, and before y' know it, I'm workin' like a slave f' y'all, doin' things...no say, no choice."
"LeBeau, what the fuck are you on about?" Logan sped up a little as Remy walked faster, "no one is making you do anything here, no one is asking favours."
"No one ever asks, but it's expected, ain' it?" Remy growled.
"Why? Because that's what your father expected?"
"He weren' my fuckin' father!" Remy yelled out, his heart was racing, his hands were shaking, he fought to control it and channel it, he was afraid at that moment if he touched anything it might charge and explode quickly without his ability to prevent it. "He were jus' some asshole that I was useful t', that's all I am t' anyone."
"What about Rogue?"
"What about Rogue?" he demanded, "she can't even admit t' anyone that she love me...I don' mean all that much t' her."
"You think that?" Logan pulled up to the pavement as Remy stopped. "You saw the look in her eyes lately? You saw the look in her eyes when you could have died from alcohol poisoning? You think that ain't love?"
"She's got a funny way of showin' it," he muttered.
"Rogue has always been a deep person, LeBeau. You above all should know that, you watched her for long enough."
Remy couldn't argue this point, he knew it to be true. Rogue had always been deep, and somewhat sensitive; she put on a brave face but beneath it all she was still a slightly wary little girl.
"You know that part of her wants to be able to tell the others, you know that part of her is desperate to show that she has someone. But she's not like the others."
"Y' keep sayin' that," Remy retorted, "But she ain' no different. And it's worse now that...that..."
"That you're having sex," Logan finished, a dark angry look playing about his face.
Remy looked away, taking a deep breath.
"Because now she knows how to work around her powers and get what she wants, she can find others to be with too...you think you're just the diving board, that she's gonna go swim in better waters."
It hurt to have it said aloud in such a way, Remy winced.
"But she ain't done that yet, gumbo. Stop trying to predict the future and try to live in the present and try to get over the past. You were used, in a lot of different capacities, but you found a way to survive it, you were doing fine."
Remy snapped, "I was doin' fine before you had t' start dredgin' things up!"
"If part of you hadn't thought you needed to tell someone at that moment you'd have never opened up. You were a boiling pot, Remy, about to blow your top, and you know what? You still are."
"Y' jus'...y' don't get it," Remy shook his head, staring at the man through angry eyes.
"You think I don't get it? That I don't understand?!" he leaned on the door of the Jeep. "Get in, I'll talk then when I'm done you can tell me what I don't understand, and if you still think I don't get this, that no-one can understand, then you can walk off if you like, leave Bayville, do whatever you want, and I won't bug you any more, deal?"
Remy got back into the Jeep and sighed quietly, he stared ahead, he could feel a speech coming on.
Logan took a moment, a deep breath, a sigh, he grunted a little, hands on the wheel, never moving. "You watched me for long enough too, right?"
Remy offered nothing other than a brief nod.
"Then you know we're not all that different underneath."
How could the man think that, Remy pondered. They were nothing alike, not underneath, not on the surface.
Logan's expression was thoughtful as he spoke, Remy caught it out of the corner of his eye, "I was a product of bad people too, LeBeau. I was created to be what I am. You think they laced my bones with Adamantium so I could teach high school kids kung fu and jujitsu?" he snorted. "I was made to kill. And now...My head is a mess too, kid."
Remy dropped his eyes to the dashboard, listening intently.
Logan hesitated for a moment, then growled, "I have flashbacks...anyone who spent time with me can vouch for it. Flashes of...of searin', blindin' pain, pain like you can't imagine. Veins on fire, molten lava burnin' through every part of me...my very bones meltin' in the heat of it, my skin blisterin' and boilin'. My brain cookin' in my skull, my lungs stoppin'...no air...strugglin' to breathe through a mouth that can't scream. Every muscle is like taut like rock until I can feel it tearin'..."
It took Remy all the strength he had not to wince at the thought of such pain.
"I can't see, all I can hear is water and the boilin' of my blood...and it comes back again and again, furious and intense. Sometimes I get lost in those flashbacks...you know what post traumatic stress is, LeBeau?"
He gave a slow nod.
"I live with it. And still I have to be the hard man here in Bayville, try and keep myself together while I am falling apart some days from the mess the bastards left me in. You think you're the only guy in Bayville who has nightmares?"
In shock, Remy turned to stare at the man, horrified at the thought that Logan even knew this.
"I hear you, through the walls," Logan stated quietly, he stared at the steering wheel, "the point is...I understand the frustration, the rage. The struggle to trust anyone after someone has done something to you that has hurt, that has left you wounded and confused and lost. I spent a lot of years alone, wandering, never trusting no one. I made a lot of bad decisions based on my inability to trust, lost a lot of friends. And you know what else?" he asked.
"What?" Remy asked dully.
"I ruined some really important relationships. I ruined a really huge relationship with someone I thought might have been the one thanks to my inability to trust, thanks to my rage and my temper."
Swallowing, Remy looked away, his thoughts drifting to Rogue. What if he did that to her? What if he drove her away with this?
"I tried to deal with it all alone too, I didn't want anyone knowing about the broken things in my head, about the pain I kept relivin'. I've been down into the bottom of every bottle I came across, went through barrels of the stuff and was still too sober to forget. I tried some of the hardest drugs I could get my hands upon, heroin, cocaine, morphine...I mixed the shit up like a potent cocktail. Huge doses, lethal doses, just to try and forget...to try and quiet the things in my head. None of it worked. I blew through a lifetime of savings and sold everythin' I ever owned for hits of stuff that did nothing but leave me with a five minute hangover, I didn't even have the comfort of withdrawals to take me away from the things I'd see in my head sometimes."
This was hard to believe for Remy that even Logan could withstand that kind of self-abuse. It was wild and unbelievable, but yet, the tone of his voice never changed, never indicating a lie or even a moment to think and fabricate the entire thing.
"Suicide...well...that was out of the question. Not that I didn't try," Logan grunted, "you won't see the scars..." Logan turned his hand over and gazed at his wrists thoughtfully, "I didn't bleed out long enough before they healed...wound congealed in a few minutes...blood replenished itself faster than it could leak out. Even from the neck..." he admitted. "I took three claws and slashed, it was painful all right, but I tell you, it didn't do much in the end, I lay there for a day waiting to bleed out, the wound healed within five hours, deep as it was, my body was determined I wasn't getting out that easy. Disease won't touch me...hoping I'd get infected with something nasty...shorten my life span? Didn't work out so well...I fight infection like bleach fights bacteria."
"What'd y' do then?" Remy asked quietly, the thoughts were sickening him, the thoughts of blood and wounds, slashes and veins. He shuddered inwardly, tried to not let it show but he was certain it did.
"Therapy."
Remy raised an eyebrow, staring at the older man, quite taken aback.
"Yeah, it's true. Only I did it with Charles...'cause unlike you I didn't have the guts to do it with some stranger with a notepad in an office."
Amused, almost, Remy snorted just a little.
"And that's how I know you have the strength to fight this, LeBeau, 'cause you actually went and it was your own choice."
"It wasn't a choice," Remy sighed.
"It was a choice," Logan confirmed, "you wanted the therapy, you just didn't want to admit to it, you pretended to be letting yourself be blackmailed into it, but in the end it was your choice. But it's only going to work if you keep going and you let it work."
Remy brushed his hair out of his eyes; down the street he could see Jean-Luc standing looking in the window of a cake shop.
"What you complained at about trust and favours...you should have been tellin' the shrink, but I know you're not. You're hovering on topics, right? Because some things are too hard to say. You're not going to shock her by telling her the things going on with you."
It was odd, Remy wasn't sure whom he was more worried about shocking, the shrink, or himself. He was afraid of the kind of things that he may suddenly remember once the floodgates were opened and he begun to talk.
"If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for Rogue," Logan sighed, "contrary to what you think, she cares...more than she ever cared about anyone else."
After a few moments of contemplation, Remy gave in, "Fine."
"We goin' back to the shrink, now?"
"No...not yet," Remy said.
"You're just holding off..."
"I need time t' think about how I'm gon' say things. I need time t' clear my head and figure things out...t' prepare."
Logan didn't fight him any further on the subject, he simply started the Jeep back up and pulled away from the pavement and towards the direction of the institute. Remy found himself every now and then glancing towards the older man, still not sure how to take him. Some of the things he said seemed to make sense, some of it seemed even honest, especially his claims of having nightmares and ruining relationships. Remy wasn't certain some of it was true though, the claim about drugs seemed unlikely, although he could definitely picture Logan quite the heavy drinker...but then Remy always saw the potential for every man to be that way.
Either way, Logan's advice seemed sound enough and there was nothing to lose by trying with the psychiatrist, to stop milling around and actually start admitting to things.
Maybe then, this ghost will go away, Remy thought, he glanced in the wing mirror as Logan stopped the Jeep at a red light; Jean-Luc was standing there watching, skinny and death-like. Hopefully, sooner than later, Remy thought as he held his trembling hands together. Hopefully sooner than later.
End of Part Twenty
A little heavy on the drama this chapter. As I've mentioned before, I'm no psychiatrist and I suck at writing these scenarios. I'm also not that good at writing Logan but I've tried my best here, that's all I can do. Hopefully not too many are put off by the sex stuff, I wanted to establish they're both really trying to make things work here (especially Remy, who is struggling to connect to her somehow, even if it's only intimately). I thought it was also important to write that Rogue is also trying to adapt to the relationship (really both they're trying to consider each other's needs as best they can).
Anyway, this editor is lagging as I try to use it so I'm going to cut this short. Hope you have a great weekend all :)