BENEATH THE SURFACE
Part Forty
Rogue stared at the time stamp on her phone anxiously. What was taking so long?
Her eyes raised to the wall, all the images of intricate and rather expensive tattoos. Some were as silly as characters from cartoons and comic books, others beautiful and colourful realistic looking flowers and butterflies, intricate black tribal marks, dragons and skulls, wolves and panthers, rather vague Chinese characters, scrolling words and hidden meanings.
How long did it take to get a damn tattoo? He'd been in there for nearly five hours. It was starting to get rather late, it was already dark outside and they'd missed dinner entirely; she'd had to call the mansion two hours ago to advise they'd be dining out. She hadn't been eating much for days but she was starving now, and her stomach was growling angrily (or was that the baby?). She pressed her hand to her stomach and wondered what people would think of her for being there had they known she was pregnant.
This wasn't the kind of place a future mother was supposed to be hanging out. It seemed rather irresponsible.
A few women with numerous facial piercings and a lot of tattoo works on their arms were sitting waiting for their appointments, Rogue wondered how late this place stayed open on a Saturday night.
When he'd told her he wanted a tattoo, she'd seen no reason to disagree with the idea. She'd imagined fancifully he'd get something small, like one of those small Chinese characters, or a tribal tattoo on his bicep. Nothing that was going to take more than an hour or so.
Five damn hours, she thought, she started a new game of 'Angry Birds', she'd been playing it for two hours straight now, but she was getting rather fed up and she was running out of levels and battery power.
She tried to imagine what it was that he'd come out with, judging by the amount of time it was taking, it was going to be something rather intricate and probably colourful, not that she knew much about tattoos other than what she'd watched on 'L.A. Ink' during a few bored evenings at home after homework.
He could have at least let me go in with him so Ah could watch, she thought, she sighed glancing at her battery icon and realising she only had eight percent left. It wasn't going to last much longer.
At least Ah haven't been sick, she told herself happily. Yes, the morning sickness had done well to refrain from rearing it's ugly head during their outing.
Her stomach rumbled again and she touched it gently, trying not to imagine her baby beneath her hand. Another day was nearly over, and she still hadn't taken any further measures to end her pregnancy. It felt so wrong to think of it without Remy's knowledge, so unfair.
No, unfair would be to tell him this now after he told me what he did in the cafe, she thought unhappily. God it hurt to think of it. It hadn't been her, she hadn't been remotely near him, hadn't known him then, hadn't even shared the memories by using her powers, and yet she had it all in her head clear as day, could imagine everything graphic about it from the way he'd said the bastard tasted to the pain he'd felt when he'd been caught by the buckle of the belt.
Now she understood why Remy had been so reluctant to tell her before. It wasn't that she was sorry he had told her...in some ways she felt almost elated that he'd shared something that private. At the same time, part of her wished he'd never said it at all. Had it eased the weight of his burden, had it left him feeling slightly better for telling her the things he had? Or had it made it worse?
It had been after that he'd decided upon that tattoo.
Maybe Ah should have talked him out of a tattoo, she wondered uneasily. What if he gets somethin' horrible...what if talkin' about it just influenced him into makin' a huge fuckin' mistake and Ah've just gone and encouraged it!
It struck Rogue that if she hadn't been in so much shock over what he'd told her, if she hadn't still been reeling from it even while they'd been driving to the tattoo parlour, she might have had the foresight to talk him out of the idea. Maybe a new ring or a book might have suited him better.
What's done is done, he's got it now, he can't have been in there five hours and not gotten a tattoo.
Rogue raised her eyes to the door of the tattooist's room as Remy finally left, his walk was slightly stiff. Oh god, please don't say he actually went ahead with that piercin' his dick, that'd really be the last straw, she thought darkly.
"Got y' bank card?" Remy asked, he was speaking through gritted teeth a little.
"Uhm...yeah..." Rogue stood up and moved to the counter where the cash register was, the tattooist uttered something quietly to the girl behind the counter (who had been idly filing her nails and flicking through movie magazines for hours), and the girl smiled at Rogue, "that'll be five thousand dollars and twenty-three cents."
Rogue blinked, "five...thous-" she almost yelled it, she tried to calm herself as Remy sidled up to her side. She took a breath, and spoke as carefully as she could, "Five thousand dollars..."
"And twenty-three cents."
"Y' got that in y' account," Remy reminded.
"Yeah..." Rogue looked at him, he was essentially paying for his own tattoo, she supposed. She took out her debit card and pushed it into the card machine and tapped in her number, waiting. She listened to the tattooist – a fifty year old man with a bright red mohawk and a snake tattoo on his face reeling off instructions to Remy.
"You'll want to keep the dressings in a sealed container to avoid any contamination.." the tattooist explained. "Wash your hands before even touching it. If anyone else goes to touch it, be sure and make them wear medical gloves, be as sterile as possible, you'll be prone to infection for at least the first few days."
"Okay," Remy nodded, he leaned forward on the counter, his position a little stiff.
"This is your care kit," the Tattooist said, he placed a box about a foot long and half a foot wide on the table, "antimicrobial soap, antibacterial ointment, be sure to use both. There's some gloves in there as well as detailed instructions on how to care for it. Follow them to the letter and it'll look great once it's healed."
"Okay," Remy gave a nod.
"I probably don't need to tell you that you need to keep an eye on your bedding, make sure that your sheets and blankets are clean, change them as often as you can, it'll help prevent infection," the Tattooist put the care box into a plastic bag and passed it over the counter to Remy.
Rogue raised an eyebrow, accepting the receipt from the girl.
"Come back when the healing is finished, I'll take a picture for the wall of fame," the Tattooist stated, "any problems with it, call the number on the card," he passed over a business card.
Rogue felt slightly bewildered as they left the tattooist's shop together, Rogue putting her card and her purse back into her black leather backpack.
"Sore?" she asked, watching his unusual walk.
"Yeah, a lil'," he said.
"Sounds like a lot of care is goin' into the healin' for a tattoo...how big is this thing?" she asked. "You were in there for hours."
"Uhm..." he turned to look at her, "I...uhm..." he stopped walking, he used his free hand to gesture across one side, every tiny movement seemed to be slightly painful, "from...there," he touched his chest, "to about there..." he pointed to his waist. He gestured over his entire side, "from here to here."
"Jesus, that's huge!" Rogue gasped, "don't you think you should have gone with somethin' a little smaller?"
"I don' do things by halves," he said, he drew a breath, "Oh and...tattooist says I'll...probably wan' not have sex f' a lil' bit..."
"Seriously?"
"It's sore..."
"What a shame, you won't be gettin' that birthday bonus after all," she smirked.
"I don' see why the bonus won' be acceptable. Jus' not anythin' vigorous f' a lil' bit."
"No...just to be safe," she walked ahead.
"Ow, hol' on, don' walk so fast..." he winced.
"Jesus, how are you gonna train?"
"I think I may take a few days off...sure Logan be pissed at me...didn' really think it through at the time t' be honest."
"Logan will love that," Rogue smirked.
"Yeah...I bet."
"Aren't you gonna let me see it?" she asked.
"Not yet...it's all bandaged up...y' can help me clean it later...y' see it then."
"Okay," Rogue sighed, "But Ah can't help feelin' like you're tryin' to keep me from takin' you back to the place to make them cover up some hideous tattoo artwork of a vagina or somethin'."
"Damn, did y' see it before they taped it?" he faked a gasp.
"Very funny," Rogue frowned, "but if it's obscene, you're never allowed to take your shirt off again, you know that, right?"
"I know," he nodded, "don' worry, it's not obscene."
"Ah called home to let them know we won't be home for dinner," Rogue said, leading the way to where they'd parked the Jeep, "Ah tried to get Logan to give us a midnight curfew seein' as it's your birthday and all but he wasn't budgin' on it."
"I bet."
Rogue climbed into the Jeep and put her seatbelt on, she waited, watching as Remy moved slowly and carefully to get in and get his on.
"So..." she sat in her seat, she tried not to think of the discussion she'd had with her husband earlier, but it was so very fresh in her mind. "Where do you want to go for dinner?"
"Woul' y' hate me if I asked t' go somewhere fancier than a pizza place or a burger joint?" he asked, clicking his seatbelt into place.
"Not if it's what you want," she smiled a little, "but there isn't much to pick from in the way of fancy in Bayville."
"There's that lil' bistro up near the college. Shoul' be able t' get a nice steak and a good dessert there."
"As long as you understand there's no booze," she warned him, "Ah know it's your birthday, but no exceptions."
"What if I order somethin' that has booze in it, like a white wine sauce or cherries jubilee?" he asked pointedly.
"It'd probably take a hell of a lot of it to get you drunk, so that'd probably be okay."
"Alcohol gets burned away, anyway, pointless tryin' t' get sloshed that way," he explained, "Y' sure y' okay wit' the bistro?"
"Whatever you want," she reached over and touched his knee, "it's your day."
The bistro was rather busy; Remy wouldn't have expected anything less for a Saturday night. They ended up waiting almost forty minutes just to be seated; there was a bar in the back and they sat there for a good while sipping on cokes and talking mostly nonsense about movies and music and other such trivial things. While they ate their meal, the conversation moved to battle stories, and funny events they'd encountered during their lives. Remy had far more than she did, but Rogue didn't seem to mind listening.
Although Remy longed for a deep conversation with Rogue, instinct told him to hold off a little for now; the subject matter during coffee at two pm had been rather heavy, and he didn't think it was wise to go any further than that for now. Talking about Jean-Luc, about how he'd gotten his testicular scar had drained him ways he hadn't expected and it had taken a lot to hold himself together emotionally; he hadn't wanted to spend the rest of his birthday sobbing like a child and he had known if he'd gone any further it would have ended up that way.
"Ah have a feelin'," said Rogue as she took out her phone to glance at it as the dessert was being served, "that we're miss the ten o'clock curfew."
Remy pushed his fork into his citrine tart, "he shoul' make an exception jus' this once."
Rogue started tapping something into her phone quickly, expression filled with brief concentration.
"What are y' doin'?" Remy asked.
"Updatin' my Facebook status," she admitted.
Remy couldn't remember ever seen her actually do this before. He hadn't even been aware she had Facebook. "Why do people do that?" he wondered aloud. "Is it t' make people jealous o' y' dessert? Or is it t' make y' life look more interestin' than it actually is?"
Rogue shrugged, "Ah've been updatin' it all day..." she handed him her phone so he could look.
Remy took her phone carefully being sure not to let his bare fingers touch hers, and he swiped across her Facebook page. There were very few status updates up until that day other than her being tagged in a few photos that others had taken; she was in quite a few Halloween photos although it was clear from the bad angles and the lack of smiles she'd had no clue she was being photographed. He saw a photo of himself as they'd waited online at the movies that morning at eleven forty-five, then a photo of him at the cafe sitting at the table on his own (he presumed she'd taken it while she'd been waiting on the coffees). A few pictures had been taken during their walking between places, some just scenic shots of the town, albeit in it's rainy state. One status update stated 'waiting for a table at the Little Bayville Bistro' – the location showing it had been sent from the restaurant.
I suppose that's t' keep Logan in the know about our whereabouts, Remy decided. Leas' he can't challenge us if he knows exactly where we are at what times.
Remy hadn't noticed Rogue taking a photo of him sitting eating his steak only half an hour earlier (he supposed her sounds had been switched off as had the flash), the last status updated showed the photo of the dessert, the time and the location 'Little Bayville Bistro'. Already, there were various 'likes' on her updates, mostly by people from the institute.
"Y' got pictures o' me on it," he said, he couldn't hide his surprise.
"Well...yeah...you were there," she lowered her eyes to her chocolate torte, she pushed her dessert fork into it. He noticed the hot blush of her cheeks, her skin looked so pink, she positively glowed today. So beautiful and feminine. "Ah...don't update it often."
He gazed at her, feeling such adoration for the woman, never knowing quite what it was, never being able to put his finger on one of the million things he loved about her but couldn't seem to voice at that moment.
"What you smilin' at?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, she put the fork to her mouth, inadvertently managing to smear a little on to her lip.
"Y' makin' our relationship public..." he said.
"No Ah'm not," she frowned a little, a wry smirk appeared on her face, "Ah'm just passin' the time."
He chewed the inside of his cheek, dropping his eyes to one photo she'd taken of him just outside of the movie theatre, she'd filtered it in black and white, and he almost looked photogenic despite the haircut he hated so much.
"Ah like that photo," she admitted, leaning over a little to look at his view. "You look like a male model..."
"That all y' like about me?" he teased, "my looks?"
"Well there's your rock hard ass, too."
"I did tell y' it was one of my best features," he nodded in agreement.
"But seriously," she said, "Ah like that photo of you," she chewed her lip for a moment, her expression thoughtful, "there's somethin' sort of...Ah don't know, kind of beautiful about you sometimes...when you let your guard down, when you aren't smirkin' or tryin' to be charmin'..."
Remy put the phone down and picked up his napkin, he reached over and gently swept the smudge of chocolate from her lip, "you're always beautiful."
"You always say that," she rolled her eyes, "but we both know you're just talkin' guff."
"Y' think I was lyin' about how I thought y' were beautiful like the moon?"
"Ah think you were tryin' to be charmin' and romantic."
One day she'll understand, he promised himself. "I see things in you that...no one else sees..." he admitted, staring at her, "y' got somethin' about y' that jus' does somethin' t' me...way y' hidin' y' beautiful eyes behind y' hair...way y' smile so ironic when y' make a joke makes me light up..." he sighed wistfully, "that...lil' cleft in y' chin..." he touched the napkin to her chin tenderly, "delicate angle o' y' jaw..." he dragged the fabric across her jawline. "And y' eyes..." he sighed happily, "definitely y' best feature..."
Her eyes met his, he felt her searching his own, but he was sure she wouldn't find anything behind them but adoration for her at that moment. "My eyes..." she said, she let out a tiny breath, he felt he definitely had her attention.
"Smoulderin' green..." he put an elbow on the table and let his cheek rest in his palm as he stared across at her, "y' think they uniform colour on a firs' glance, an' then y' look closer and see the fain' ring o' blue on the outside, an' a ring o' hazel right in the centre...lil' flecks o' gold an' blue, so incredibly subtle...but if y' look close...y' see they the mos' fascinatin' beautiful eyes..."
Rogue dropped her eyes, her cheeks were hot pink, he wondered if he put his hand close to her face he might feel the heat of it burning against his skin without even touching her. "Everyone always says Jean has the prettiest green eyes...Ah've never seen anyone with eyes as bright green as hers..." she confessed. "And Kitty...her eyes...I mean, how blue are they? Ororo...she has these incredible pale blue eyes that just completely stun you when you look at her. And Tabitha-"
"I don' care about anyone else's eyes, Marie..." Remy stated softly, "yours the only one I wan' look int' f' the res' o' my life..."
"You're only nineteen...how can you know you want that for the rest of your life?" she asked.
He thoughtfully dragged a bare finger gently across the shimmering dark jade fabric of her blouse, when the light caught the fabric just right he saw shades of purple, "what's the name o' this stuff?" he asked curiously, he pinched the fabric a little, shifting it around to admire the light catching the fabric, bringing out tones of purple and almost pink.
"Uh..." she blinked, a little stumped by the question, she dropped her eyes to her thin blouse, "what?"
"This fabric..." he said, "what's it called? Like...if I was gon' go ask f' a yard o' this...what woul' I be askin' for..."
She paused, "Iredescent fabric,.." she responded.
"Y' sure?"
"Yeah," she replied.
"How y' know that?"
"Ah just do."
He smirked at her and wiggled his eyebrows pointedly.
"Oh..." she said, understanding what he'd meant, that like her knowing the name of the fabric, he just knew that for the rest of his life, hers were the only eyes he wanted to stare into.
He stroked her arm tenderly, "t' day is the firs' good day I've really had in a long time, y' know..."
"Me too," she admitted, "Ah mean...yesterday was...it was okay. But there was drama and...a lot of stress from school too. Today was-"
"Perfect," he interrupted her, almost afraid she wouldn't have said the same thing.
"Really?" she asked, "even though we didn't fly to Venice, and we didn't shop for diamonds, and we didn't buy a car?" she laughed.
"Movie was one o' the bes' I seen in a while...coffee was real good an' strong 'cause y' had 'em throw in an extra shot. Walkin' in the rain wit' you was real romantic an' soothin'. The...well, the tattoo parlour was kin' o' painful but worth it...an' here right now, wit' you...it's perfect."
She lowered her eyes again, another sweet blush that made his heart swell and thrum in his chest.
"Only one thing in this worl' would make it more perfect."
"Sex?" she asked.
"No..."
"Me postin' on Facebook that Ah'm 'in a relationship'?" she queried lightly.
"Nope."
"Me wearin' that corset."
"No...well...yes...but no," he felt his smile drop a little.
Rogue stared away from him, her expression soft and a little hurt, "a kiss."
"Yeah."
She paused for a good moment, expression quite conflicted for a moment, "Ah'm sorry...it's...it's a kind of tall order...and...not one Ah'll be able to fill any time soon...if Ah could Ah wouldn'-" she stopped herself abruptly, seeming slightly frustrated with herself that moment. "Sorry, never mind," she shook her head.
"Y' wouldn' what?" he asked, leaning forward a little.
"You know what, it doesn't matter," she took another bite of her chocolate torte.
"No...what was it y' were gon' say?" he asked, he pushed a fork into his own tart but didn't take a bite, he was far too intrigued by her comment.
"Ah..." she took another moment thinking before speaking again, "Ah just...Ah wouldn't have felt so...Ah guess Ah..." she straightened up and sighed, "Ah wouldn't have insisted on keepin' us a secret."
"Y' know...some people in relationships jus' can't wait t' broadcast it all over, brag abou' it and shove it in people's faces...I get it...y' jus' never were gon' be one of them types o' people," he shrugged, "I jus' never figured y' was gon' turn me into one of them."
Rogue parked the Jeep in the garage and switched the engine off, she turned towards Remy who had fallen asleep during the journey home, his snoring light as he sat there in the passengers seat propped up by the window.
He's been fightin' sleep all day, Ah've watched him, she thought, feeling slightly exhausted herself as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She nudged her husband gently.
"Remy..." she said softly, "Sugar...we're home..."
He stirred a little, smacked his lips, mumbled something incoherently and continued sleeping.
"Come on, darlin'," she touched his side gently.
He flinched, straightening up a little and blinking, "oww...careful..." he muttered sleepily.
"Sorry, forgot," she said, referring to the tattoo that now took up his entire left side (at least as far as he'd told her). "Come on, it's late, you better get to bed."
"Y' need t' clean this thing firs'," he sighed.
"Can't it wait?" she asked, unbuckling his seatbelt for him before getting out after grabbing his care kit from the back seat.
"Coul' get infected, guy who did it said t' take real care."
Rogue moved to the passengers seat and opened his door for him, "c' mon, Ah'll help you upstairs to bed."
Remy threw his arm around her shoulders and tiredly stumbled upstairs with her, she felt his weight pressing on her, she felt his exhaustion weighing her down truly. She'd barely gotten him to his bedroom door when Logan's bedroom door opened hastily and he stared out at them.
"Where you think you're goin'?" he asked of her.
Rogue tried to be bold towards him, all the while her body burned with embarrassment at having been caught, "Ah need to get him to bed...he's exhausted..."
"So put him in and get to bed," Logan gestured down the hall, then paused, "do I smell blood?"
"Remy went and got a tattoo," Rogue admitted, "for his birthday...Ah paid for it."
"It needs cleaned," Remy said tiredly, "might need help..."
"Do it fast and be discrete, use the instructors bathroom," Logan kept his voice down, "and then bed."
Rogue understood he had to give the orders regardless, in case any one should overhear. Still holding the bag with the care kit, she took Remy to the instructor's bathroom two doors along (it had a bath rather than a shower as the student bathrooms did).
"What about our leeway?" Remy grumbled sleepily as Rogue locked the door and checked it was properly shut before she took the box from the bag and began unpacking it.
"He has to show a certain level of authority in case the others might be listening," Rogue explained, "just because he's supposed to give us leeway doesn't mean the others can know about it," she reminded.
"I see..."
"Okay...take your shirt off..." Rogue commanded, laying the items out, "wow, there's a lot of stuff here...dressings, tape...ointments and seran wrap...and a shitload of instructions..." she picked the instruction leaflet up, "what does it mean piece. What's a piece? Is it a section or somethin'?" she asked.
Remy unbuttoned his shirt weakly, "no it's the whole thing," he assured, he gave a yawn, "come gimme a hand, this kinda hurts..."
Rogue came over and helped him shed his thin button down; he'd worn a plain grey t-shirt beneath and she sat faint traces of blood had seeped through the marl fabric. "Oh my god, it's bleedin' through..."
"It's jus' a little...the guy said it might happen, it's fine. Help me get this off...jus' be gentle...hurts t' kind o' lift my arms right now..."
Rogue peeled the shirt off of him carefully, listening to him hiss and flinch. What the hell did he get done? She thought, curiosity really starting to pique. Remy hadn't exaggerated when he'd said that it was most of his side; the dressings were taped all over his side, under his arm from the edge of his chest right down to his waist. Blood had wept through a little and had already started going brown on the cotton; it didn't look all that pleasant.
"Okay..." she peeled her own gloves off and put a pair of the sterile gloves on from the care kit, "lets see what this thing is..."
"Jus'..." he began, seething as she began peeling the tape lightly from his skin, "jus' don' freak, okay?"
"Freak?" she asked, "Ah'm already freakin' at the size of this thin—" she tugged the tape off, "oh my god...Remy...what is this...what the fuck is this?!"
Panic began to surge through her immediately when the first signs of his 'tattoo' came into sight as the cotton dressing was peeled away. She saw no ink, where there should have been ink and fresh lines was raw exposed flesh, several layers of skin hacked away and blood still weeping from the wounds.
"Remy! Oh my god! What is this?! What did they do?!" nausea began rising in her throat, at that moment she wasn't sure if it was morning sickness at night time or if it happened to be the sight of this inflicted damage.
"Ssh!" he warned her.
"Ssh?!" she demanded, she began pulling more of the cotton away, revealing more of stripped flesh, fine intricate lines of flesh razored and peeled away from his perfect tanned body, leaving raw painful looking wounds. Her eyes began watering, her lips were trembling almost as much as her hands. She was beyond horrified. "What the fuck did they do!?" she asked, nausea beginning to rise in her throat.
"Keep y' voice down..." he pleaded.
"Remy...what is this...?" she gasped, her eyes were stinging badly at the thought of the pain he must have been in.
He let his arm rest on her shoulder gently as she continued removing, "It's...kind o' like a tattoo..."
"You're missing parts of your skin," she dropped the dressings into the trash, "oh god...there's chunks of it gone...Remy..."
"It looks worse than it really is..."
"Isn't there a law against this kind of...thing?" she asked, feeling utterly devastated at the damage he'd had inflicted on himself. What had he been thinking? What kind of logical thought had gone through his head when he'd decided he was going to have this done? "Isn't this classed as assault?"
"Y' over reactin', chere," he smirked.
"Isn't this painful?" she removed the last dressing and examined the damage fully. Curls and tendrils of intertwining vines twisting and forming the shape of a crescent moon along his left side. It looked like a shark with a rather interesting overbite might have been chewing on him.
"It stings, ain' gon' lie," he said. "Was an anaesthetic f' most of it."
Rogue shook her head, trying to hold herself together, blind panic running through her mind. Had he completely lost his mind? She'd heard of this scarification craze, but the people she'd read of having it done were usually the types that liked pain, and the types that had piercings, and led certain types of life style. Remy wasn't the type, it didn't fit somehow. "What...what was goin' through your mind?" she turned on the hot water faucet; this had to be cleaned or it would get infected. There was far too much exposed skin to take any chances.
No wonder the tattooist guy was givin' so many instructions, she realised. She felt foolish having not asked exactly had been done at that moment.
"I...wanted somethin' special..." he said.
Rogue pushed his arm up slowly, he winced, clenching his teeth, "special?" she blinked, "there's a lot of things you could have done to make it special, Remy. You could have drawn a design and had it inked on, you could have had my name tattooed onto your...thingie..." she grimaced, "You don't fucking get skin cut out of you to make somethin' special."
Remy gave something of a tired laugh, he sounded almost amused.
"Special..." she said with a sigh, "do you know how insane that sounds right now?"
He paused, he looked down to the floor darkly, "I suppose."
She took a wad of cotton and put some of the antimicrobial wash onto it before soaking it in hot water from the tap, careful not to even let the cotton touch the faucet or the side of the sink; how much care should she be taking with this? How deadly could an infection be on that kind of exposed flesh?
"Ah...Ah just don't understand..." she swallowed back her nausea and waited a moment for the cotton to cool in her latex glove before she gently dabbed it against his wounds, he hissed and clenched his teeth. "You goin' and gettin' skin cut out of your body...that doesn't make sense to me."
"I didn' expect it t'," he responded through his clenched teeth, "but it makes sense t' me."
"What was goin' through your head?"
"All my life, the people who played the biggest parts left their mark on me...whether it was deliberate or not..." he stated, "y' know the story behind my tattoo...an' now my scar..." he sighed, "Jean-Luc and Vivienne...two people who left the biggest mark on my life 'til you came along..."
Rogue bit her lip, dabbing delicately at his wounds, watching the cotton turn to orange as she washed away the faint traces of blood and plasma.
"You...y' make the biggest mark on my life...y' the moon, y' move me like the earth rotates, y' shift my tides..."
"You're sayin' you did this for me?" she asked, quite horrified.
"I did it f' me," he said.
"But why?" she asked again.
He flinched at her touch, he tried to hold himself still, "Y' won' understand if I tell y', y' jus' gon' judge. Why can't y' jus' take it as a compliment that y' mean a lot to me...?"
"Because Ah need to know..." she replied, she got a fresh piece of cotton and soaked it, "You can tell me anythin'...you know that...Ah won't judge you..." she promised.
"Y' won't? Y' already said I was crazy f' doin' this."
"Because Ah don't quite understand it..." she explained, "if you explain it...then maybe..." she trailed off.
"Okay, y' wan' an explanation?" he sighed.
"Yes..." she urged.
He stood still for a moment, wincing under her gentle washing of his raw wounds, arm held up in the air. "I'm damaged goods..."
Rogue stopped, raising her eyes to his.
"I'm always gon' be damaged goods..."
"Remy..." she said softly, hurt by the thought that he imagined himself that way, her heart almost breaking at the thoughts running through his head.
"All my life I never had a say in the damage that was done...it was jus' done t' me whether I wan' it or not..." he frowned, "some damage...it still happens whether I got control o' it or not, but this time...this time...this damage..." he gestured to his side, frowning at the pain, "is my damage, an' I 'caused it. I got t' say how it was done, how big it was and what it's for. F' once I had the control, an'I chose t' take the mos' important person in my life and make her part o' my skin."
Rogue dropped her eyes, nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Or was that just the baby within her reminding her it was there? She didn't know any more.
"I have t' carry all kinds o' shit wit' me that I can never get rid o'. I wanted one thing that I could carry that I chose t' carry. An' y' know what, it'll hurt f' a good while...but that's fine...it's gon' heal an' fade...jus' like I think maybe eventually the rest will some day. Except...this one..." he gestured to it, "this I won' mind people seein'...one thing I can explain and not be shamed about...not feel sad about. Damage t' remind me o' good times that came after the bad."
Rogue drew her breath, lost in his speech, hand still pressing the cotton lightly against his ribs.
"Y' think I'm insane f' this...but I never been more clear-headed my entire life. More...able t' think straight..."
She searched his eyes, and saw there wasn't any doubt about what he said, he knew exactly what he was doing, he'd thought it through so carefully. And even after that speech, even after he'd bared his soul so much, she still couldn't find the words to tell him that she was carrying his child. There were so many wounds on him, some more psychological than the physical ones, and the thought of telling him about the baby left her wondering if it'd be like exposing his wounds to infection.
He was in too good a place right now to expose him to something that could harm him, and instinct told her this would.
"I don' expect y' t' understand," he sighed, "But I do..."
"Ah understand, Remy," she dabbed at his wounds lightly, "Ah just don't like to see you in pain..."
"Pain is gon' go away some day," he replied.
And Ah shouldn't add any more to it, she realised.
She finished cleaning his wounds and nothing more was said between them, there was a strange comfortable silence, Rogue humming to herself absently as she carefully dabbed on the antibacterial ointment with clean gloves. He was barely flinching any more now, just sitting on the edge of the bathtub as she applied the ointment, his eyelids heavy, dropping closed every so often and staying that way for a moment or so. He was exhausted, struggling to stay awake.
After taping up his wounds, she pulled him up from his sitting position and pulled his arm around her shoulders, "come on, Ah'll put you to bed."
He made no protest and she led him to his room, she closed the door behind herself quietly and pushed the wedge beneath just to be sure no one would walk in on them. She'd made him certain promises about tonight but she could see he was in no way capable of staying awake for anything, and besides, it felt strangely inappropriate after everything that had come out at the cafe.
She sat him down on the edge of his king sized bed, and dropped to her knees to pull his shoes off him; the act reminded her of taking care of him when he'd been drunk, except now he was merely exhausted, drunk on too much sugar, coffee and air and now he was winding down like a clockwork toy.
"I had a good day, y' know," he said softly. He rubbed his right eye tiredly, "sorry I ain' very awake right now...been...a real long one."
"Yeah, Ah know, sugar," she replied, she put his shoes aside and stood, pulling his arms to get him up so she could unbutton and get his pants off of him. "You'll probably sleep real good..."
"I hope so," he said wistfully as he stepped out of his pants and sat upon the bed, every movement was slightly careful, the pain she realised must have been more excruciating than he was actually letting on.
He lay on his right side and gently put the covers over him, so afraid of even laying them on him too heavily that it may hurt his wounds. He sighed tiredly, eyes falling closed. She went to shut the blinds, thinking perhaps that it'd keep out the early morning light, he'd sleep in, she was sure after being up all night last night he would probably need to.
By the time she'd pulled his drapes shut and turned back to look at him, she realised he'd already fallen fast asleep, out like a light.
She smiled a little, although it felt empty all the same. She wished she could agree with Remy that it had been a good day; certain elements of the day had been good, that she could agree on but other elements...things and feelings took the shine away from anything good about the day entirely, leaving her feeling oddly unhappy about everything that had happened.
She switched the light off, kicked the wedge out from under the door and left his room; Logan's bedroom door was open and she glanced in as she passed but she saw he wasn't within and so she could only surmise he'd gone down for a drink or had begun making bed checks.
Her own room was just as she'd left it, the makeup left carelessly on the dressing table, her robe on the floor, her slippers kicked halfway across the rug. She was tired but she made the effort to clean it up, she had enough clutter in her head without adding to it in her room. She put each item away where it belonged, taking her time.
It didn't matter if she delayed going to sleep, she doubted she'd be sleeping much tonight anyway.
Her mind drifted to the conversation with Remy in the cafe. God it was haunting her. The thought of the things he'd gone through, the way that bastard had hurt him...
She hadn't realised tears were trickling down her cheeks until she'd felt the tickle one touch her jaw. She grabbed a handful of makeup removal wipes from the dressing table and began swiping at her makeup, smearing away any trace of her tears with the makeup she'd so carefully put on for her husband.
It's no wonder he never wants kids, Rogue thought miserably as she threw the dirty wipes in the trash and stared at her face, her eyes still slightly stained with the traces of eyeliner and mascara making her look slightly ill and panda-like.
The thought of all Remy had gone through left her wondering if it would be an act of cruelty to bring a child into a world where there were people just as evil as Jean-Luc LeBeau still living within it. The child hadn't been born, and already she felt paranoia of thinking of where those people might lurk...who might look upon her child and see a sexual plaything instead of sweet innocence.
Remy thinks he can't trust himself not to be like Jean-Luc, Rogue reminded herself as she retrieved her red flannel pyjamas from her dresser. He'd be so afraid of his baby...too afraid that it'd ignite some kind of sickness in him that he didn't know was there...
Rogue looked at herself in the mirror, she saw her worry, her frustration, her furrowed brow. She wondered if she'd be likely to get wrinkles if she kept his worry mind wandered to the kind of life Remy had led, his exciting and unorthodox life, promiscuous teenage sex with so many different women, from one casual sexual encounter to the next. Was Remy's promiscuous nature just a healthy sexual appetite or was it a by-product of his troubled home life? Would he have still been the way he'd become had Jean-Luc never entered his life at all? Had Jean-Luc's lack of love and mistreatment led him to being the way he was? Was he going to be like him?
He'd never be like Jean-Luc, Rogue decided. He'd love his child...he'd just be too scared to ever be a part of its life.
She sighed quietly and shed her clothing down to her panties, she stared at her mostly nude body in the mirror, thinking of the way it might change with the pregnancy, how she'd stretch and fill. She turned to the side and examined her stomach closely, she didn't see the slightest change in her size, her stomach was flat and to make it even slightly protrude she had to exhale all of her breath and push her belly out. She imagined that was how it would look in a few months, swollen and round. She touched her belly tenderly, hating every moment of knowing the baby was there.
Every moment of knowing she had to make her decision was agony. Every hour that passed plunged her deeper and deeper into the realisation she was running out of time. A few weeks seemed like an eternity to some people, but for her...for her it wasn't enough. A week had flown by and she'd barely had time to think, so much had happened and she still didn't feel any better about this.
Why couldn't pregnancies be two years long? She wondered as she turned back to face the mirror. So you could have a whole year to decide if it was the right thing to do?
Her breasts did seem slightly fuller, not by much of course, but they were definitely more tender and although she'd never spent too much time examining the particular shade of her nipples, she was certain they had changed colour. Pregnancy brought all kinds of absurd changes that she didn't understand; she shook her head in disgust with it and she pulled on her pyjama shirt, buttoning it up swiftly so she wouldn't have to look at her two month pregnant body.
She pulled on her bottoms and walked bare foot over to the side of her bed and sat down, she opened up the drawer to take out her nightly moisturiser. As she moved it, the box from behind it tumbled over; the green box with the first pill.
Her heart sank.
She put the moisturiser aside and picked up the box, she shook her head at it. This isn't fair, she thought.
Thinking about it, she supposed life wasn't fair to most people. No one had particularly asked to be born and yet had been born into rough lives with no say in the matter. Some in third world countries didn't know what food was, and here she was lamenting the dilemma of whether to keep a child or terminate it before it was too late. By comparison, her problem being unfair seemed rather trivial and silly.
If Ah keep it...my life isn't goin' to be drastically bad, she realised. Remy would never stick around of course, that was a given. She understood he'd be far too afraid of hurting his own child that he'd keep a distance; knowing him, he'd insist on supporting the baby regardless of any attachment or not. She'd probably have a comfortable life. A very comfortable life. But what good was comfort if it there was no happiness?
Could Ah be happy havin' a baby Ah can't touch?
The answer was no.
Instinct told her every day watching her baby in someone else's arms would kill her more and more. How was she supposed to bond with a child with that arrangement?
She took a breath and opened the box and slipped the blister pack out; the one pill was staring up at her through the clear plastic. The answer to her problem, the tangible solution. Not even sure she wanted to take it, she pushed the pill through the silver film and held it in her bare fingers, examining the size and feel of it.
A knock at her door caught her attention and she panicked, throwing the box, the empty pack and the pill into her drawer and shutting it hastily, "yeah?" she asked.
The door opened and Logan entered.
"Bed check," he said, "and you're not in yours. It's near midnight."
"Sorry," she said, "Ah'm just about to put on my night cream, then Ah'll get in bed," she promised, she twisted the top off her tub of moisturiser and scooped some onto her fingers, she patted it onto her nose, forehead, cheeks and chin and began smoothing it in.
Logan stood, "how was tonight?"
"It was good," she said, although it hadn't been a great night from her side, she couldn't help hide the optimism in her voice.
"How's he been?"
"He's...doin' good...improvin'," she admitted, massaging her cheeks, "he...he's openin' up...a little."
"That's good," Logan admitted, "it's a big step...you know that, right?"
"Ah know."
"What was the tattoo like?"
"Oh...it's..." Rogue shook her head, she didn't want to go into it tonight, she was far too tired to argue about the scarification. It had been Remy's choice, let him be the one to justify it in the morning. "Just a stupid moon."
"A moon?"
"It's a personal thing to him, Ah guess," she forced a shrug.
"I saw your Facebook page," Logan admitted, he let his hand rest upon post at the end of her bed, "all the kids were jabberin' on about it at dinner..."
"Really?"
"You're...really going to lengths to make this public, aren't you?"
"Baby steps," she said, she winced at even using that term. "Ah posted a few pictures...it's not like Ah'm cryin' out the words or showin' everyone the ring," she pointed out.
"You're getting along well now? You and him?"
"Yeah," she answered truthfully, "it's goin' better now. We've talked out a lot of stuff and...we're spendin' more time together and everythin' is fallin' into place."
"That's good..." he nodded, "anyway, don't be staying up too late."
"Ah won't," she gave a little smile.
Logan headed for the door and then stopped short of it, he turned and raised his head to the air, sniffing. "What is that?"
"What?" she asked.
"That...smell..."
"What smell?" she asked, almost feeling a little panicked at the idea he could smell her pregnancy.
Logan moved across the room, sniffing, "You...you got drugs in here..."
"No," she blinked, "Ah don't take drugs..."
"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Rogue," Logan frowned, "I smell pharmaceuticals..."
"You're imaginin' it," she replied, and yet, somehow, she couldn't help her eyes from turning towards the drawer and glancing at it anxiously as he moved nearby. It had been inadvertent, a sheer moment of panic. She saw the look of realisation on his face.
"Open the drawer."
"There's nothin' there..."
"I said open it," Logan commanded.
Rogue opened the drawer, the box was still overturned and lying open, the blister pack empty, and the one pill had fallen in the middle of a hair tie that she'd thrown in there weeks ago.
Logan looked at it, "no drugs, huh? What is this? Prescription painkillers? Somethin' I've never heard of yet?" he picked up the box from the drawer and turned it over. "Mifepristone?" he asked.
Her eyes dropped to the floor, she could feel the colour draining from her cheeks, her limbs going cold with anxiety.
"What's Mifepristone?" he asked, staring at the box. The box itself was rather vague other than specifying it only contained one single pill.
"It's...it was prescribed," she promised, she snatched the box from his hand and held it against her lap; she wasn't sure if the back of the box even had the word pregnancy on it but it was best not to take chances.
Logan snorted at her strange behaviour, seeming quite unimpressed with that elaboration. "What is it?"
"It's just a stupid thing, you don't really want to hear about it, it's nothin' life threatenin'," she promised. Not for me, anyway.
"I said what is it," he repeated, this time his glare was dark and angry.
Rogue felt her eyes glued to his and her blood ran cold at that look. Could he really assume she had some kind of drug that was recreational? She'd never given him reason to doubt her before. "It's...it's..."
Please don't make me say it, she thought at him desperately, wishing she had telepathic powers and could influence him to drop the subject.
"I said what is it, Rogue," he said again, this time more harshly.
"It's...a pill to..." she swallowed, "to make me..."
"To make you...?" he asked, waiting impatiently.
"To uhm..."
"To...?"
"Not be pregnant any more..." she said, it suddenly felt like her heart, her lungs, her brain, everything went numb, seemed to stop working for a moment as she watched her mentor trying to process this news.
Logan looked at her like he didn't quite believe what he'd heard, he tilted his head, his frown was hard, brows furrowing together, his eyes seemed almost black with rage. She hadn't expected his outburst; he turned towards the wall near her bed and thrust a fist at it, knocking a hole through the painted plaster.
"Logan!" she gasped, half panicked by his response, half worried that someone would have heard the noise the impact made.
He was breathing heavily through his nose, mouth pursed, looking away from her. She could tell he was afraid to say anything because he knew it would come out loud and furious.
"You...broke my wall..." she said, her voice trembling as she gazed at the fist sized hole. She hadn't known what else to really say. Sorry?
He glanced to the hole in the wall and snorted, he looked around for a moment, then moved to the nearest poster, tore it from where it had been and pushed it up against the hole to hide it. He used a drawing pin he pulled from the old spot – the corner of the poster still attached to it from where he'd ripped it down – to stick it to the wall, right in the middle of the face of the lead singer of the band the poster was of.
"There," he muttered, "I fixed it."
Rogue watched the entire scene feeling incredibly lost and a little afraid, she hugged herself insecurely as Logan headed for the door, he seemed intent on just walking out entirely.
"Logan..." she said, she closed her eyes and drew her breath. She couldn't let him walk out after this.
"What do you want me to say, Rogue?" he stopped at the door, his voice was thick when he spoke, hand poised on the door handle but not turning it.
Rogue wasn't sure what she wanted him to say or do. All she knew was she didn't want him to walk away from her in that temper. She fell silent, trembling with emotion.
Logan seemed to be staring into space, face turned towards the door, hand still poised there. "There's no mistake?" he asked quietly, she couldn't pretend she didn't hear the strangely odd hopefulness that she was wrong about being pregnant.
"Three different tests confirmed it...Ah have all the symptoms..." she sighed.
"Mornin' sickness," he realised. "Last Saturday on the jet..." he frowned, "You went on that mission and-"
She recognised what he was about to suggest, that she might have gone knowing she was already pregnant. She interrupted immediately, "Ah didn't know, Ah swear."
He took a breath, straightening up, still trying to process the information.
"It came up on my drug test...Hank tests all the girls for pregnancy...he tipped the Professor off...the Professor ran all the tests he knew..."
"And there's no mistake..." Logan supposed again.
"When have you known them to be wrong," she rolled her eyes.
"I suppose you're right," Logan shrugged.
"Ah went to the doctor just to confirm," Rogue thought of the ultrasound she'd had, the nurse pointing to something she hadn't even been able to see on the screen. "An ultrasound confirmed it, my pee test confirmed it."
"How far along?" his voice was strangely monotone.
"Anywhere from just under two months to just over," she answered. "That was as specific as my doc could be..."
Logan stood at the door, deep in thought for a moment, "guess this explains the sudden cancellation of Danger Room sessions for the moment.
"Professor cancelled them to give me time to think about how what Ah was gonna do...rather than have me go through the embarrassment of havin' to explain why Ah couldn't be there, he just postponed the trainin' schedule entirely. He said he'd postpone as long as Ah needed until Ah make a decision..."
Logan pressed his shoulder against the door and leaned there, he sighed heavily, "and you've made your decision."
"Yeah, Ah have..."
"Is this what you want?" he asked, never even looking at her.
She looked away guiltily, "It's not about what Ah want, Logan, it's about what Ah know what has to be done..." she turned the box over in her hands.
"If you don't want this, Rogue...it doesn't have to be that way," Logan said sternly.
"Yes it does...there's all these...these risks and complications and uncertainties. There's no guarantees that Ah can even give birth, and even if Ah tried to give birth by caesarian section, it doesn't guarantee the baby will survive my powers. And then after...what about the after?"
"We'd help you, you know that," Logan looked at her, "I ain't good with kids but for you I'd-"
"See...just that. This baby...it's my burden...but everyone else...everyone else would make it theirs...everyone would be involved. Ah know Jean would go out of her way to babysit...and Kitty would teach that baby to talk. Kurt would be the fun adopted uncle...and you'd play grumpy grandpa, who acts all coo coo for the baby when you think no one is lookin'..." she drew her breath, "But where do Ah fit in...?"
Logan turned to look at her, his expression soft, "You'd be a mother."
"A mother who can't touch her baby. Sure, maybe the first few months Ah could hold the baby...while it's small enough to wear booties and little mittens and hats...and Ah could hold the baby at arms length and feed it...get to know it. But then...it gets older. It wants to explore, touch things...babies tear their socks off, their mittens off all the time, Ah see it in the street. Ah'd never be able to get close to my baby without bein' so afraid that one touch would be all it took to...to..." she swallowed hard, unable to bring herself to say it. "Ah would have to watch everyone bring the baby up..."
Her mentor fell silent, he was looking to the floor, thinking about her words.
"And there's the dangers, what if we get attacked, what if the baby was taken? What if somethin' awful happened if someone's powers discharged or...or blew somethin' up?" she took a deep breath, "Ah would never be able to live with myself."
Logan moved from the door and came to sit beside her, he said nothing, hands clasped between his knees, hunched over a little, deep in thought.
"And then Ah thought...well...Ah could move out. Remy dropped some money into my account...if Ah was frugal, Ah could survive a few years on my own with the baby...but there's no way Ah'd be able to afford to finance a twenty-four hour a day nanny to do everythin' for the baby that Ah can't do because my powers are far too much of a risk factor..." she explained. "Ah went on this forum a few nights ago online when Ah couldn't sleep; Ah was just lookin' for advice, you know? Just to see how others get through it, how they made their decisions...what their choices were and how it felt..." she began, "Before Ah even got to post anythin' Ah just saw this woman's tyrade...massive twenty page posts about how it was unfair that she and her husband have been tryin' to get pregnant for twelve years...and here were these women on this abortion advice forum who got to have the choice..." she swallowed hard. "She said it was like spittin' in the face of god and throwin' this precious gift away like a piece of trash. Like havin' an ugly wart removed because it didn't fit in with the image we have of ourselves..."
Logan listened, a frown building on his face.
"She said that havin' an abortion is murder, the baby inside of me has a heartbeat and a soul..."
"Rogue...some people..." he began.
"Ah even thought...what if Ah just...had the baby," she stated coolly, "give it the chance to live...and do all Ah can to try and make sure it survives the birth and...and adopt it out...some family out there wants a baby...what if, you know?" she asked. She sighed, "But...Remy and me...we're both orphans...and both of us ultimately ended up in the hands of the wrong kind of people...the thought of...the thought of my baby bein' in the hands of someone like Jean-Luc...makes my blood turn to ice."
Logan nodded, understanding.
"And...Ah know what it's like growin' up and not knowin' where you come from...always wonderin' why things happened the way they did. Ah can't stand the thought of any baby of mine never knowin'. Of thinkin' Ah gave 'em up because Ah didn't want it."
"Do you want it?" he turned to look at her seriously, his eyes squinting worriedly.
"Like Ah said..." she rubbed her face, feeling the wetness of a tear that had escaped from her left eye without her knowledge. "It's not about what Ah want."
"But if it were...?" Logan asked gently; his voice was so incredibly tender right then. All the anger from before melted into a puddle on the floor, evaporating into thin air. He placed a hand gently upon her shoulder and squeezed.
"Ah can't let myself think about what Ah want," Rogue shook her head. "Ah have to think about what's fair to everyone...includin' the baby. Puttin' a baby into my life...into everyone's lives...it's not fair to anyone..."
Logan gave a sigh, "what does Remy think about all of this?"
She winced, she had hoped he wasn't going to ask but she'd been expecting it all the same.
It seemed he read her face, he gave another sigh, "You ain't told him."
"How can Ah? You know what he's goin' through," she stood up slowly and moved over to the window, still clutching the empty box from her prescription. "Ah've spent months tryin' to get through to him, to get him to open up and it's finally happenin'. He's talked to me about how he's doin' therapy...and talkin' about stuff so so private. Right now, he's tryin' to get his life together and he doesn't need this..."
Logan was silent at her back, sitting there on the bed seeming to consider this.
"He always made it clear that he didn't want kids," Rogue admitted, "he's always been careful about sex. Even when he was young and irresponsible. He always knew he didn't want them. He said to me once when we were takin' about his ex-girlfriend about how he didn't want to risk somethin' stupid like a pregnancy."
"With her, not you," Logan pointed out.
"He came and said it outright, Logan. Weeks ago..." she swallowed hard, "he said he never wanted to be a father...said he was afraid there were things that had been instilled into him..."
"He thinks he's been conditioned to be like his father?" Logan queried
Rogue nodded unhappily.
"It's...true that a certain percentage of kids from abusive families sometimes end up repeating history. Some lead very troubled lives...drugs, alcohol, self-mutilation..." Logan pointed out.
Rogue shuddered at the last words. Self-mutilation. Wasn't that what Remy had more or less done in the name of body art?
"I won't lie to you, Rogue," Logan grunted, he stood up and walked over to her, he stood beside her at the window, "when Remy first came here, I watched him like a hawk...I knew about the risks of having him here, especially with there being so many kids around. I'm not going to say I suspected or didn't suspect anything to happen...I simply couldn't take any risks; I'm instructor and I have to ensure safety over students before anything else."
Rogue understood, but still the thought stung a little that Remy might have been under some kind of suspicion.
"I watched him...every little look he'd give to every student here, especially the younger kids. He told you about therapy...I take him there and back...there's kids in that waiting room waitin' to see a child psychologist down the hall from his shrink...he don't even look at them. I don't think it's that he's deliberately avoidin' lookin' to keep from arousin' suspicion. I think he jus' ain' interested. He isn't like that...he doesn't have it in him. That's my opinion. He might be prone to violent outbursts, but under extreme pressure when threatened or provoked. Violence towards children...it won't happen with him...he isn't the type. If he was, he wouldn't have been half as protective of you and other students with his suspicions about me."
Rogue felt strangely relieved to hear that Logan's opinion matched her own. She stood, staring outside into the dark night.
"What do you think he'd do if you told him?" Logan asked seriously.
"If Ah kept the baby he'd leave me, Ah guess..." Rogue answered honestly. "He's so afraid of turnin' out like Jean-Luc...he'd see it as the only option to keep the baby safe. He'd panic and run. Money is his answer to everythin' so...he'd drop a ton of money in my account, make sure Ah was set up for life, probably...and...then he'd just be gone forever..."
"You think he'd agree with your decision to abort it?" Logan asked, gesturing to the empty box in her hand.
Rogue hated that word. Abort. It was such an ugly word. So graphic. The words abort and terminate had never been so sickening and made her so uncomfortable until the moment she'd realised she was pregnant.
"Ah...Ah think he'd agree if Ah told him," she confessed, "but...Ah think it would also put a lot of strain on him...to think about it like Ah have..." she went back to the bed and sat down. "It'd hurt him...and Ah'm sick of people hurtin' him, Logan, Ah'm not gonna be one of them."
"You're making this decision for everyone," Logan pointed out. "You sure that's how you want this to be?"
"That's how things work in a family, Logan," she said quietly.
"Sometimes the family should be part of the decision makin' process," Logan stated. "I agree, Remy is delicate...it certainly won't help his mental state right now. But...keepin' somethin' like this to yourself is a huge thing, Rogue...you have to live with this...you know that..."
"Ah know that," Rogue nodded.
Logan's expression was grim as he turned to look out of the window, "I hoped I was never gonna have to have this talk with any of the girls here. Especially you," he admitted.
Rogue put the box in the drawer and came over to stand beside him at the window, "Ah know."
"Gonna sound so stupid, especially comin' from someone like me," he began with a grunt, he leaned on the windowsill, a frown on his brow, "I feel like...a failure..."
"A failure?" she blinked.
"Failure like...a parent would I suppose..." he answered, "like it's my fault, like I didn't educate you enough or...didn't warn you enough...or didn't make it clear to him to keep away from you..."
Rogue pressed her cheek against the shoulder of his dark green cotton shirt, "no one failed, Logan," she decided, she felt his arm slide around her and he half hugged her, his eyes still focused on the outside. "Just a weird freak thing that happened."
Logan turned to her, "you've grown up so much," he said softly, "where's that angry young girl who used to stomp around in bad moods and hide in corners? The girl who used to blame the world for everything and find everything unfair and depressing..."
Rogue shrugged, "she's on hiatus."
"Or maybe she's just matured," he smirked a little, almost amused. He took his arm from her and headed for the door, "I'm going to bed and I suggest you do the same."
She nodded and headed over to her bed, climbing under the covers.
He paused at the door, taking a minute, "Rogue?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
"For?"
"For believing he'd break your heart and make you weak. Truth is, he made you stronger, Rogue. He's made you stronger than I ever could."
Rogue smiled a little as Logan left the room and closed the door quietly behind himself. She lay on her side and glanced towards her closed drawer. Tomorrow she'd take the first pill and go ahead with the termination. Tomorrow it would be seven days she'd had to mull it over fully. Seven days was plenty. She had one last day to change her mind, one last night to sleep on it.
End of Part Forty
Well a lot got said in this chapter, lol. I'm sure that Remy's body art was a bit of a shock, but this goes to show what his mindset is at the moment (don't think I've ever read anyone as writing him getting something this extreme, lol). Logan's reaction...well, that's how I saw it happening. Aaaaaaaaaaah anyway, hopefully this will suffice for the midweek update.
Thank you all so much for your reviews and support on the story. I appreciate it so much and I love you all for it. It really means a lot to me :)