BENEATH THE SURFACE
Part Forty-One
Remy LeBeau couldn't ever remember sleeping until midday without having had a very late night with the addition of alcohol. When he awoke at 12.35pm that next again day, his room was dark and cool, the blinds and the drapes had been pulled shut.
It had been a strangely sound sleep, and the heavy comfortable feeling he had gave him the sense he hadn't even shifted in his sleep. He'd been lying facing the window the entire time. It struck him as odd because usually he slept on his left side. It wasn't until when he went to move, he remembered the scarring.
Fuck, I didn' think it was gon' hurt so much next again day, he winced as he eased himself up; he could feel the fresh dressings had stuck a little to the wounds and he sighed. It had seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time but he hadn't really considered the next day consequences, such as the pain, nor the cleaning and disinfecting the damn wounds.
He didn't particularly regret the body art, didn't regret how extreme it seemed nor how large it was. All he did regret was that he hadn't really prepared himself for the care it was going to take. When he'd sat in the room with the tattooist who had sat drawing out the plan for it while he described what he wanted, the guy had explained to him in detail all he'd need to do to take care of this type of scarring to make sure it healed right, but all Remy had been able to think about was Rogue, and how well she'd handled his story about the belt.
It was telling her that story that had led him to the conclusion that he was going to get the scarification. Jean-Luc's mark might be forever on him, true enough, but the one Rogue had left on his life had been much bigger, and having her pay for the body art meant that she in some form had a hand in putting those scars on him.
And although it was painful, he felt strangely euphoric about it in a way he couldn't describe to himself. Or perhaps it was just the good night's sleep with no nightmares.
He pulled himself up and eased himself into a robe; despite the good night's sleep he still felt groggy and in need of coffee and he hoped there would be some left in the pot. He went downstairs, taking careful steps, every time he moved he felt the pulling of the cotton sticking to the wounds. He wasn't particularly sure if this was meant to happen or not, and he dreaded when it would have to come off.
The kitchen was empty, everything clean and sparkling; no coffee on the go, he had to stand making some, but luckily it didn't take more than ten minutes and gave him time to glance down at the Sunday morning paper.
Down the hall, he heard the noise in the Rec Room, kids laughing, the noises of gunfire from a console game. Carrying his coffee, he headed to the Rec Room and stood at the door gazing in, feeling slightly at peace as he watched the teens playing their games and flicking through magazines. Rogue was nowhere in sight, though, and thankfully, neither was Tabitha. He still hadn't quite decided how he was going to handle that situation and he'd put it out of his mind as much as he could yesterday.
"Oh, hey, look who's up," said Kurt, glancing up from a magazine about computing he'd been gazing down at, "you slept late."
"Yeah."
"Been burning the midnight oil?" asked Kitty.
"Somewhat," he supposed.
"You aren't even dressed yet," Amara raised her eyes from her fashion magazine, "close the robe, would you? I don't want to see your boxers."
Remy glanced down and groaned inwardly seeing the robe had fallen open quite a bit. Sighing, he pulled the front of his robe shut, wincing in pain.
"What's that on you?" Jean asked, standing up, she'd seen the dressings sticking out from the gap in his robe, he hadn't intended for that to show. "Did you get into a fight?"
"No..." he stepped away from the door, "jus' lil' injury."
"You didn't get drunk and get into a bar fight or fall and hurt yourself or something, did you?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, he put down the controller for the console. Remy wondered why he would assume he would get drunk at all. Had he heard something? Been told something?
"I ain' been drunk in a long time," Remy said honestly, "and no...it's jus'...I kind o' got a..." he wasn't really sure how to classify it. "A tattoo," he stated. It was close enough, he supposed.
"Seriously?" blinked Jubilee, "can we see?"
"Not now," Remy took a sip from his cup, "dressin' is kind o' stickin' t' it."
"Aren't you supposed to put seran wrap over a new tattoo? I thought you were supposed to let tattoos get air," Bobby didn't even glance up from the television; he seemed to be murdering masses of soldiers.
"Not this type," he said. "Anyone seen Rogue?"
"You mean your girlfriend?" cooed Rahne.
Remy wasn't sure if he was being made fun of, "she's not my girlfriend," he stated coolly.
"You been out on two dates in two days, what do you call that?" asked Jubilee, a twinkle in her eyes.
"There's never been any discussion about Rogue bein' my girlfriend, yet," Remy said, he tried to hide his delight that it was much more public now than it had been. "And t' ask again, has anyone seen Rogue?"
"She was at breakfast, not that she ate much," Jean said, "she's been eating like a bird, lately."
Last night she'd certainly stuffed her face at the restaurant, she might have been eating like a bird at breakfast but last night she'd been like a vulture.
"You know that's a fallacy," said Kitty in her rather know it all tone, "Birds have to eat a lot and real often in order to feed their high metabolism and maintain their temperature. Some baby birds eat their own body weight daily to keep up with their growing bodies."
"Since when do you know so much about birds?" Kurt threw her a strange look.
Amara spoke up, "since our biology teacher – who is a total stud by the way – told her about his interest in ornithology."
Kitty's cheeks went crimson, "He goes bird watching most weekends, he says he's a twitcher."
Remy laughed, he turned and pursed his lips together, trying to stifle it.
"Is something funny?" Kitty asked.
"Jus', uhm...where I'm from, a twitcher is somethin' else entirely."
"What is it where you're from?"
"Well, I played poker a couple times wit' this guy from where I grew up who used t' stick his balls and dick between his legs t' make it look like he was a girl..."
"Ew!" yelled Amara in disgust.
"He used t' turn around and y' would see everythin' twitchin' at the back of him. So we used t' call him Twitcher," Remy smirked. "When someone does that, they called a twitcher."
"I totally did that at my cousin's wedding," Bobby said whimsically.
"How did you manage to do that?" Jamie asked, "you don't have any man parts...just a little pussy."
"Gentlemen," Jean warned. "As amusing as your story is, Gambit, that is not what a twitcher is."
"Oh? Enlighten me," Remy suggested.
Kitty frowned, "in normal society – which isn't the back woods of beyond at illegal poker games – a twitcher is someone who watches for rare birds."
"If y' say so," Remy smirked, "Anyone know where Rogue may be?"
"Probably her bedroom," Rahne shrugged.
Remy turned and felt the dressing pulling at his wounds. He supposed looking for Rogue was going to have to wait, he didn't want to have to ask her to clean this lot a second time.
Guess that means suckin' it up and askin' Hank, who really I ain' properly apologised t' after what I did t' his cough syrup supply, Remy supposed. He finished his coffee, and then headed to Hank's lab where he had surmised he'd find him. He wasn't altogether wrong.
Hank was busy trying to fix what looked like a very small watch, the thing under a giant magnifying glass and lamp, his head bent over it, focus deep. Remy stood watching him for a moment, wishing he had that kind of intelligence that he could fix things and make things work the way this man or the Professor could.
Remy cleared his throat to catch the attention of the beast, who glanced up.
"Good morning," Hank said brightly.
"Mornin'?" Remy queried, "It's nearly one..."
"It is?" Hank asked, he raised his wrist and glanced at the time, "oh dear. I've been in here almost four hours...did I miss breakfast?"
"I'd assume so," Remy came over, "what y' doin'?"
"Putting together a new image inducer for Rahne. The one she's been wearing is a little big and obvious so I'm making it a little smaller and more feminine," he explained. "Her mutation has been catching up with her and it's been causing her some distress at school..."
Remy leaned against the high counter, watching curiously, "how it work?" he asked.
"Just as the Danger Room does, really...it's a hologram; the person using it is quite the same underneath, fur, fangs and all," he grinned, "I use one myself from time to time."
Remy sighed, "could have done wit' somethin' like that when I was growin' up. Might have made things a bit less difficul' for me. Nowadays I can hide my eyes behind glasses, but back when I was a kid it was a strange thing t' do."
"You could always wear scleral lenses," supposed Hank as he turned to look at Remy. "They're larger than contact lenses, covering most of the eye."
"I tried 'em once, had a pair specially made, cost me a lot o' money. Wore 'em for three hours f' a job – t' case a place – but it was too painful. Coul' barely see either, and it jus' looked strange. The black o' my eye jus' showed round the edges of the lens and I looked real odd...especially if I looked sideways."
"If you liked I could make you an image tranducer too, if you'd find use of one?" suggested Hank.
"Seems real unnecessary. I can wear sunglasses – these days that ain' too out o' the ordinary."
"Would you like to see yourself without your real eye colour?" Hank asked, he picked his own image tranducer from the place he'd left it near his coffee maker and he began tapping into the tiny number pad, "here...hold your wrist out..."
Remy held his wrist out curiously as Hank strapped the watch-like thing onto him. Hank pushed the side button on the transducer and Remy saw the difference in his own appearance as he looked down and saw himself wearing clothes, not a robe.
"There's a mirror behind the door there," said Hank, he gestured to a closet.
Remy opened the closet door and stood before the mirror on the inside of it, tilting his head to gaze at himself, it was bizarre to see an unfamiliar man staring back at him, his hair was the length it had been before he'd shaved it, and the eyes were practically a strangers.
"My eyes are hazel..." he said, leaning forward to gaze at it, not sure at all if he liked the look.
"The application within the transducer makes a guess on eye colour depending on your hair colour and skin tone," Hank explained. "It can be altered...try holding down five on the keypad while holding down the button on the side, it should cycle through the shades each time you do so."
Remy began cycling through eye colours, slightly amused by how even these subtle changes made him look so different. Blue eyes were startling on him, and dark brown looked strangely right. Dull green, just like Rogue's however, jarred him the most. He stared at himself, stopping at this colour, utterly mesmerised.
"You look a little shocked..." Hank admitted near his back.
Tilting his head from side to side, Remy stared at himself so completely glued to the image, it looked like him, and yet it didn't. Those eyes were so much like Rogue's, the same exact shade, the same faint ring of blue, the same flecks of gold, the tiniest ring of hazel right in the centre. "These are Rogue's eyes..." he touched the mirror absently.
Hank paused, "Oh...yes, I believe they are...I scanned all the eye colours of everyone here to use in the transducer..."
Remy snorted, "it's weird on me...looks like...I dunno...like...how I'd imagine a kid me and her woul' have woul' look..."
Hank was quiet at his back, he took a moment, "I suppose you do..."
Yes, that was exactly how he imagined it. A grown up version of their child looking back at him; the haunted expression, the beautiful eyes, the handsome face and delicately sharp nose, the slightly strong jaw and soft lips.
"Do you like children?" Hank asked casually as he went back to fixing the image tranducer for Rahne.
"Not really," Remy took off the transducer he was wearing, it was unnerving seeing that image of himself looking like a stranger staring back at him with Rogue's eyes. "F' the most part, I tolerate. The kids here are a pain in the ass mos' o' the time and I'm sure y' woul' agree."
"Not so much a pain, just a little...troublesome," said Hank. "But I'm not just speaking about the kids here, I'm talking about small kids, children, toddlers...babies, that sort of thing."
"Babies are okay in theory...'til y' remember that babies can't do nothin' f' themselves. Toddlers...well...they're an extension o' babies, really. They can't do nothin' f' themselves, but they got the power t' be demandin' and t' talk back."
"You don't see yourself as a father, then?" Hank queried.
Remy thought it a funny question, he thought about what he'd heard Hank and the Professor talking about, about someone's test coming back showing something that had occurred to Remy much later had been pregnancy. Tabitha's pregnancy.
Does he think I'm the father o' that kid? Remy wondered, feeling a little annoyed at the suspicion of it, if it happened to be that. "I'm nineteen," Remy pointed out.
"By nineteen most young men have an idea of the things they may want in the future," supposed Hank, "you don't think of yours?"
"I don' think o' as far as tomorrow," Remy shrugged, he wished he hadn't because lifting his shoulders even slightly caused the pain in his side to flare, "some of us are meant t' be fathers...some of us not. I don' got good parentin' instincts, if my tolerance f' the kids here is anythin' t' go by," he said.
"I see," Hank nodded, listening.
"Hank?" Remy began, "I...I never really said sorry 'bout the way I acted about the cough syrup, did I?"
"You implied you were sorry, I suppose," Hank shrugged, not seeming too hurt about it. "It's all water under the bridge."
"I was jus' defensive and tired..."
"And hallucinating through that tiredness," Hank supposed.
"I didn' know what I was doin'..and I panicked. I never meant t' take it out on you or Logan..."
"Did you honestly think we'd hurt you?"
Remy shrugged again, and he sucked in a breath, the pain was quite sharp.
"Are you all right? That's the second time you've made that face..."
"Yeah, I..." Remy gave a vague laugh, "I got a lil' body art yesterday and it's healin'...I thought maybe y' coul' take a look at it? I'm supposed t' be careful t' avoid infection..."
"Of course..." Hank nodded, "Let me see..."
"Thing is...the dressings have kind o' stuck t' it."
"Stuck to it? To a tattoo?" Hank asked.
"It's...not exactly a tattoo..." Remy looked away, chewing the inside of his cheek.
Hank frowned, "You didn't get scarification, did you?"
"I...may have..." Remy responded, "jus' a lil'..." he held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.
"Lets see," Hank sighed.
Remy opened the robe carefully, and dropped it to his waist.
"Just a little, huh?" Hank asked, raising an eyebrow at the size of the dressed area on his side.
"Jus' a lil."
Rogue leaned against the wall of the girl's bathroom, she was growing very tired of getting her morning sickness in the afternoon. Why do they call it mornin' sickness when it can hit you at any time of the goddamn day? She wondered, she wiped her mouth on a piece of folded up toilet paper.
She was glad she'd barely touched the breakfast Kurt had cooked, it had been a good breakfast but she'd refrained from eating much of it, her appetite was not as it was and she'd predicted she'd be seeing it in reverse later. The less she ate before her morning sickness, the less she had to throw up.
Ah always heard pregnant girls talk about their appetite gettin' huge 'cause they're eatin' for two, Rogue thought as she sat there trying to breathe out the nausea. Ah can barely eat for one these days.
The abortion pill still lay in her bedside cabinet unswallowed. She'd thought about it the moment she'd awakened but hadn't been able to bring herself to do it. She couldn't even fathom why, because she'd already made up her mind she was going to do this, there was no question it was going to happen.
She just couldn't seem to take the first step.
Maybe Ah should have just booked into a clinic, then there's no procrastinatin' about it...
"Oh...I...didn't know anyone was in here..."
Rogue raised her eyes to the door which had opened, she'd forgotten to lock it in her haste to get to the toilet to throw up. Tabitha was standing there at the door looking slightly bewildered to see Rogue sitting on the tile floor next to the toilet. There was a strange tension in the air, an awkwardness. Rogue hadn't even expected Tabitha to say anything to her at all.
"I...forgot to grab my makeup bag," Tabitha said, stepping over Rogue's long thin legs to get to where she'd left the makeup bag on the counter.
Rogue wasn't sure if it was the smell of Tabitha's perfume, which was cheap and musky and had been sprayed on quite liberally, but something made her retch and she leaned over the toilet just as a little more vomit came up.
God, this is humiliatin', Rogue thought. Why'd she have to come in here?!
Rogue was very aware Tabitha was looking at her in the reflection of the large mirror taking up most of the wall space above the counter and sink. She hated being looked at when she was like this. All sweaty and nauseous and probably green with sickness.
Oh come on, for gods sake, let this stupid vomitin' stop, Ah can't sit here all day next to a toilet.
Tabitha paused, she was holding her makeup bag but not moving, "same time roughly every day..." she said, it was mostly under her breath.
Rogue raised her eyes to the pretty blonde who was standing there with her hair tied up neatly, her makeup slightly subdued today; her reflection in the mirror looked like an advert for natural beauty.
Tabitha turned towards Rogue slowly, "you haven't bought tampons in like...a month...I know that because I took your tampons last month and you didn't even say anything...you didn't replace the box..."
It was odd how Rogue felt as if her mind had gone completely numb with fear at that moment. Shock causing her veins to turn to ice as Tabitha spoke.
"You look flushed a lot...you get nauseous a lot...I don't believe it..." she shook her head as if she were in complete disbelief. "You're pregnant..."
Rogue gaped at the girl, her stomach churning but no vomit came up this time. She didn't know how to respond to the diagnosis because it was completely true. It hurt that Tabitha had to be the first to guess.
Rogue wiped her mouth on the tissue she'd been holding, dropping her eyes to the floor; she couldn't even look at the girl now. It had been easier to look at the reflection of her than real eye to eye contact.
Tabitha shook her head again, Rogue wasn't sure if it was really disbelief or if it was disgust. Tabitha began to head for the door, clutching her makeup bag.
"Don't..." Rogue gasped, feeling so queasy and it was worse any time she tried to speak.
"Don't what?" Tabitha asked, hand poised on the door handle.
"Don't tell anyone..." Rogue managed in a gasp.
Tabitha paused, her eyes on the floor, her expression slightly upset. "How did it even happen?"
"Creativity...mostly," Rogue responded wryly, "It...wasn't like we weren't bein' careful."
"Not careful enough, evidently..." Tabitha commented rolling her eyes.
"Don't lecture me, Tabitha," Rogue frowned, "you're not exactly a saint."
"I'm not a saint but at least I'm not lying to anyone either."
The comment hurt, Rogue felt her humiliation spread through her entire body, it left her hot and edgy.
"Remy doesn't know," Tabitha stated, her eyes were full of anger. "You didn't tell him."
Rogue looked away from her, to hear it again made it sting all the more. "Please don't tell him."
Tabitha snorted in contempt at the request.
"Ah know Ah hurt you, Ah said things about you, Ah lied to you about Remy...Ah misled you and kept things from you," Rogue said, "Ah know Ah have no right to ask anythin' of you..." Rogue swallowed back the taste of vomit, "But this...this will hurt him...it'd devastate him. Right now he's goin' through so much shit and the last thing he needs is to me to ruin his life with this baby..."
The blonde hovered by the door, looking away, she folded her arms, still clutching the makeup bag.
"Ah'm not askin' you to do this for me, Tabitha...Ah'm askin' you to do this for Remy. If you care about him at all, you won't tell him."
If there was any agreement or disagreement made, Tabitha didn't let on. Simply, she left the room, closing the door quietly behind herself. Rogue sighed and ran her hand frustratedly through her hair.
What now? The entire mansion would probably know she was pregnant with Remy LeBeau's baby by dinner time. Remy would probably be the first person Tabitha told.
He'll leave me, he'll freak out, say he can't handle it, it's too much. Ah can barely handle it and Ah don't even have half the trouble he does in his life...
Rogue pulled herself up weakly, her legs felt numb a little from the way she'd been sitting with one leg crossed over the other. She walked back to her room, pins and needles jumping up and down her leg by the time she got there. She sat at the edge of her bed, opened the drawer and found the pill she'd taken from the packet last night.
She couldn't hold back any more, it was time to make a decision. Now or never.
The longer you wait, the less likely it'll work. Doctor said Ah'd be cuttin' it fine as it was...Ah can't keep waitin' and holdin' off.
Rogue picked up the bottle of water she'd left next to her bed the night before and unscrewed the cap.
Okay, this is it. Ah'm gonna do this...now or never, she told herself, she took the small piece of paper with the instructions from the box and unfolded it, sighing to herself. Okay, so...I take the first pill...I wait twenty-four hours, I take four of the second pill...then I'll start bleedin'...it'll...expel itself...Ah might feel lousy...antibiotics to fight infection...god, you can get infection with a pill abortion? Her stomach churned again.
No, you are not getting any more morning sickness today, she instructed herself angrily.
There was a quiet knock at her door, Rogue felt her breath catch in her throat a little, she dropped the pill, the box and the instructions back into the drawer, shut it quickly, and composed herself as hastily as she could. "Yeah?"
Remy entered her room, he leaned against her door frame, "been lookin' all over f' y'," he said.
"Ah've been right here," she said, trying to hide that on the inside she was shaking. Why couldn't she tell him? It was right there, she wouldn't even have to explain it. She could hand him the instructions and let him figure out the problem from there...
And he'll freak...
"I didn' think y' woul' be hidin' up here all day."
"Ah just needed some alone time – everyone downstairs is so noisy today."
"True," he admitted, "I barely lasted five minutes before I had enough o' it."
"How's your gaping wounds?" Rogue asked, eyeing his posture, even the way he stood so still and stiffly told her that it hurt.
"Stingin' less now. Hank has this awesome anti-bacterial ointment that kills pain...he rubbed it on and wrapped it over in seran wrap. I barely feel it right now unless I move my arm up. He said the ointment even promotes healin', it might heal a lil' faster too which is a plus."
"How long is this going to take to heal?" Rogue asked.
"Good few months at least...t' heal proper. The idea is that the scars are gon' raise up and look three-dimensional...at least in theory, if I take care o' them right."
"You're a maniac," Rogue rolled her eyes at him, "couldn't have just got a tattoo like a normal person..."
"Tattoos are too mainstream, and I already have one. This is more...original," he stepped in, "so..." he said, looking a little awkward.
"So..." she repeated. So, Remy...Ah'm pregnant and you probably figured out it's yours so...what do you think of abortion?
God, she had never hated the A word so much in her life. Abort. Like some kind of program in the Danger Room that had gone too far and wasn't working out. Hit the abort button, end it right there.
That pill is a fuckin' abort button. All Ah got to do is swallow the damn thing.
"So..." Remy took a breath, "y' know the others are callin' y' my girlfriend now?"
"Oh really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "They're sayin' that?"
"Yeah."
"What'd you say?"
"I said y' weren' my girlfriend."
"And Ah thought you wanted to make it clearer to them what we are, not less clear."
"I said we hadn' had that boyfriend girlfriend discussion yet is all," Remy explained, "which is the truth. I never really asked y' at any point t' be my girlfriend, did I?"
"Ah don't suppose you did."
If he asks me, in just one instant Ah could be unmarried and pregnant, she mused darkly.
"Have...you spoken to Tabitha yet?" Rogue asked. Rogue already knew the answer was no. If he'd spoken to Tabitha, Tabitha would have told him about the pregnancy, they'd be arguing right now instead of talking like calm adults.
"No," Remy answered, "I honestly dunno how t' really apologise t' her."
"You'll think of something," Rogue shrugged.
"I coul' send her a huge bouquet o' sorry flowers...wit' the card from us both."
"Yeah, then she'll probably make potpurri out of them and dump it on you."
"She can't stay mad at us f' ever," Remy invited him to sit on the edge of her bed, his movements were slow and careful. She cringed thinking of the moment he'd tell Logan about this scarification piece he'd gotten, the guy would be livid that he'd be out of training for some time to let it properly heal, "So...what y' wan' do t' day?"
We're supposed to have plans today too? Ah can't take this pill if Ah have plans, what if it all happens too fast? How would Ah explain it? She instinctively put her hand to her belly, then chided herself for being so obvious about it.
"Y' okay?" he asked, eyeing her, finding the gesture strangely worrying.
"Ah'm feelin' a little rough today. Ah think it was all that rich food last night..." she blushed and dropped her hand. Way to go, make it look real obvious that you're pregnant.
Remy looked over his shoulder for a moment, frowning. Rogue wasn't sure what caused this odd behaviour other than perhaps a fly or a moth had fluttered past his ear. He composed himself and turned his attention to her. "Is it jus' pain? Or did the food give y' the runs?" he asked.
She might have laughed if she wasn't so depressed about the pregnancy; what would have made her laugh was that he was so very serious about it, not an ounce of teasing. She supposed it must have been love if he was asking about her bowel movements.
"It's...just pain," she lied, "But Ah've been feelin' a little sick too..."
"Maybe it's food poisonin'," he worried. "I coul' go get Hank if y' need-" he began to offer.
"No..." she stopped him, "Ah'm fine, it's just a little upset."
He touched her stomach, rubbing gently in soft circles and emotionally it was crippling her.
She brushed his hand away delicately, "Ah feel a little...tender..."
"Maybe y' comin' in f' a period," he supposed.
Rogue threw him a look, "are we really gonna have that talk?"
"What?" he asked, "ain' it a normal thing couples supposed t' discuss?"
Actually, she paused, thinking it over. That's not a bad idea...let him think it's a period...if you start bleedin', you can pass it off to him as a period, he'd be none the wiser. Only you would be, she thought logically. "Ah...don't know, Ah've never had anyone to really discuss it with before other than doctors."
"Is it due?"
Not at least for another seven months, maybe, she thought wryly. "Not sure...it's...not really predictable."
"Y' ain' embarrassed t' talk t' me about it, are y'?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
She supposed in a way she was. References were all well and good but she didn't want to go into the specifics of it all.
You're such a wimp, you should be usin' this opportunity to tell him you're pregnant, Rogue thought, she screwed the cap back onto the bottle. Who am Ah kiddin'? She gazed upon his handsome face, he looked well rested, more so than he had in weeks. He'd had a good day yesterday admittedly, why ruin it? Why get in the way of his therapy and happiness by bringing up such unpleasantness?
Because if Ah don't, Tabitha will...
"If y' like we coul' jus' spend some time t' gether inside," he offered. "I coul' make y' some lunch – somethin' that ain' spicy, I promise! - an' then we coul' watch movies or somethin'..."
Rogue managed a smile, this was definitely a more agreeable way to spend time together than going out at least. At least if they stayed home, she could fake having a period. She could still keep up with her plan. "Okay, go on ahead, Ah'll meet you downstairs..." she made herself busy by plugging in her phone and checking her email, "Ah'm just gonna check my email and stuff first."
"I'll wait f' y'," he decided.
He's gonna hover over me? How am Ah supposed to take the pill if he hovers...
Rogue put the phone down, "you know what, it can wait, lets go."
Remy couldn't put his finger on what was wrong with Rogue this afternoon. She seemed slightly more flushed than usual. There was a permanent frown knitted into her brow even when she was smiling, he could see worry going on behind her eyes and he wasn't convinced it was because she felt slightly ill due to a stomach upset.
He stood at one side of the kitchen, making sandwiches for them both while she sat at the kitchen table, flicking through the Sunday morning newspaper. She was quiet and he thought to press the issue but in the end kept his mouth shut.
Y' tol' her she was entitled t' have her secrets, Remy reminded himself as he stood slicing into a cucumber for the salad to accompany their sandwiches. He'd opted for something light for lunch hoping it wouldn't irritate her stomach. If she wants t' talk, she'll talk.
He glanced into the reflective door of the microwave, spotting her in the background, flicking through the newspaper, she seemed perfectly serene but he still sensed something was wrong. He was good at reading people and right now she was a book, she was anxious about something; the way she was tapping her fingers against the table, the patting of her foot against the floor...
"Do I smell coffee?" came a yawn.
Remy turned a little to see Logan entering the kitchen looking half asleep, his hair mussed and his face still unshaven. Had the old geezer actually slept in for once? "Y' up late..." he commented.
"Mission cropped up last night not long after you guys went to bed, I went solo...didn't get back until some time around six am," Logan moved to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. "How's the tattoo?"
"It's not a tattoo," Rogue spoke up, sounding slightly irritable, "you ever heard of scarification?"
"You mean like those tribes in the deepest darkest parts of the world do?" Logan mused, "don't tell me you willingly went and got that done..."
"He willingly went and got that done," Rogue confirmed.
"You crazy?" Logan threw Remy a look.
"You should see it," Rogue sighed, "it's huge. Half of his side is taken up with this damn scarring..."
Logan snorted, "You lost your mind leaving your skin open to all sorts of infection? What about training?"
Remy felt the sting of accusation about losing his mind. It cut slightly too close to the bone. Suppose he's got the right t' say I los' my mind. I stabbed him after all...surprised he's even toleratin' me still after that happened.
"Not like we've been trainin' anyway right now, what with the Danger Room out of commission. Y' ain' even given us any martial arts trainin' in a week...what's up wit' that."
"Professor noticed grades slipping a bit already so early into the school year," Logan moved to the kitchen table with his cup, "apparently a lot of sleep schedules are messed up, a few are feeling a little stressed out since training got a little tougher. So we've been asked to give you guys a break to catch up on your homework and we'll be easing into it when the Professor gives the word."
"Fair enough," Remy said with a shrug and went back to what he was doing, "Y' hungry?"
"Only for coffee," Logan yawned again.
Remy arranged the salad on the plate, perhaps being a little finicky about the task, making it look nice, trying to show some effort for his wife, he heard whispers between the two it was very hard to hear over the sound of the radio on the windowsill.
"How you feelin'?" Logan asked of Rogue, his voice hushed.
"Ah'm fine," she whispered.
"Did you...?"
"No...not yet..." she said, and she seemed to shush him.
Remy paused, trying to listen but nothing further was said. What the heck had that been about? What hadn't Rogue done yet?
"Why he askin' her how she's feelin'?" came Jean-Luc's query. Remy turned and unexpectedly caught sight of the skeletal zombified version of his adoptive father leaning against the counter casually, watching Rogue and Logan at the table. Remy tried to ignore the question, he didn't suppose it was an unusual thing for Logan to be asking. "Y' know...y' fell asleep early last night after y' promised the girl a night o' hot sex..." Jean-Luc mused. "Claws there was certainly still awake while she was...both look real tired this mornin'..."
What the hell was Jean-Luc suggesting? Remy turned away from him, tried to concentrate on cutting the scallions.
"He probably rocked her world all night. No wonder her belly hurt this mornin'...he probably fuck her so hard it's hurt her all up inside. Shame y' weren' awake t' hear her moanin' his name."
The knife slipped and he let out a hiss as it caught the inside of his palm, he wasn't sure how he even managed to do it, his hand hadn't been anywhere near the knife.
"LeBeau? What've you done now?" Logan asked in a grunt, he got up from the table, "Oh great..."
"Remy..." Rogue gasped.
Remy grabbed a handful of paper towel from the roll on the counter and pressed it to the bleeding wound, "It's fine, knife jus' slipped...".
"Oh my god, look at all the blood!" gasped Rogue.
"That'll need a few stitches," Logan grumbled, "come on, lets get you to the sickbay," he took a hold of Remy's elbow.
Remy shrugged out of his touch, a world of unease caught him unexpectedly, and he couldn't help himself from retorting "don' touch me..."
"Remy..." Rogue admonished, "he's just tryin' to help..."
"I don' need help! It's jus' a cut...an' after last night I'm used t' that. Stop bein' so over-dramatic," Remy held the paper towel hard to the bleeding cut.
"Get down to the sickbay," Logan commanded.
Rolling his eyes, Remy left the kitchen to go to the sickbay, hoping Jean-Luc wasn't about to follow.
Rogue pushed a wad of paper towels against the bloody puddle on the chopping board, it wasn't that there was particularly a lot of it, it was just that it always looked so much worse than it was when the blood belonged to her husband.
"He's losin' it," Logan remarked after a moment, watching her wiping up the blood.
"Huh?" she asked.
"You know there's some things I'm bound to not talk to you about because of my job...because he's my student" Logan began, "but...there's things you have to be aware of...you're his wife...and I'm havin' a hard time holdin' my tongue..."
"Look, Ah know he's a little...stressed out..."
"You remember how we spoke about his room bein' real cold...colder than usual?"
"Yeah..." Rogue shrugged.
"I did a check last night while you guys were out...radiator has been tampered with, it was jammed on the lowest settin'...wasn't even givin' off heat..."
Rogue frowned a little, turning to stare at her mentor. "So someone pranked him?"
"No, Rogue...I think he's doing these things himself."
"Why would he turn the heat off in his room?" she demanded impatiently.
"Perhaps to make himself sick? Who knows. Why would he take the bolts from the braces on the wall that kept those bookcases up? He's doing it for some reason."
"Ah still don't believe he did that," Rogue muttered.
"Believe what you like...he did it."
"Did they even have his scent on them?"
"No," Logan stated, "but that doesn't necessarily mean he's not doing it some way...using gloves for example."
"You're over thinkin' it, he's not doin' this stuff to himself."
"Not entirely," supposed Logan.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Charles won't tell me what's going on...said it was a private matter. In my opinion, watchin' him this past few months now...I think I know what's wrong. I've seen the signs of PTSD."
"PTSD..." she repeated, a little taken aback.
"Post traumatic stress disorder, Rogue," Logan responded.
"Ah know what it means..." Rogue replied, feeling quite uneasy with the subject.
"I know PTSD, Rogue. I live with it, and so does that boy. He can scoff all he wants when I talk to him about it, but he knows it."
"What exactly is so PTSD about what he's doin'?"
"I can't tell if it's flashbacks or he's seein' things, but he gets that look and I know he's not seein' what we're seein'. Remember how he threw himself into the wall? I think it was flashback of some sort..."
"Look, even if it is..." Rogue drew a breath, "he's goin' to therapy...the doctor will help it..."
"Therapy isn't helpin' whatever this is...it seems to be getting worse as time progresses...you can't deny you must have noticed it."
"Even if Ah have..." she drew a breath, "What would Ah even do about it? He shuts down when Ah try to talk to him about things...if Ah try to bring this up, he'll clam up and won't share."
"There's nothing you can do. I just recommend being careful around him. That's not the first accident he's had this past few weeks..."
"Are you sayin' it's deliberate? That he's self-harmin'?"
"I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm saying," Logan scowled, "other than be careful. I know you trust him, but if you see something trigger, keep your distance, let me know."
"Ah think you're bein' paranoid," Rogue drew a breath, all the while wondering if perhaps Logan had a point. Remy's violent outbursts in Louisiana and St. Tropez, the way he kept getting hurt here in Bayville...it had to be caused by something.
But was Post-traumatic stress really the reason?
"Ah'll talk to him," Rogue said finally.
"No...don't press it. I've tried and pushing doesn't help. Just be careful, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he hurt you."
Rogue put her hand to her pregnant belly, feeling it flip a little at the thought of something happening. Her stomach still felt so taut and flat it was hard to believe anything was there other than the coffee she'd just drank ten minutes ago.
"Logan..."
Rogue and Logan both turned to the door, Tabitha stood there in her workout gear, there was something strangely focused about her expression, she looked more serious than Rogue had ever seen her look.
"Yeah?" Logan asked, Rogue sensed he was withholding a sigh.
"You promised yesterday you'd help me with training."
"Oh...yeah," Logan realised, "yeah, sure, just...let me finish this coffee, I'll be with you."
Tabitha and Rogue stared right at each other, Rogue had to drop her eyes, guilt eating away at her. Regardless of the trouble Tabitha might have caused in her relationship, there was still a strong sense of guilt...there was no doubt that Rogue herself had a hand in the events that had unfolded.
Ah need to make that up to her...not that there's ever gonna be a way.
Rogue dropped her hand from her belly, realising she'd still been clutching it, she felt her cheeks grow hot with humiliation and her blood pump with anxiety. Had Tabitha told anyone yet? By dinner tonight, Rogue assumed the entire mansion would know she was pregnant with Remy LeBeau's child.
Ironically, Rogue assumed Remy would probably be the last to know it.
Tabitha left the room without another word, and Rogue dropped into a seat, shaking her head at herself.
"I guess you two are still in dispute over Remy."
"Not exactly. She's just...pissed with both of us," Rogue groaned.
Logan said nothing but Rogue sensed that he felt it was probably just a little warranted. Tabitha had a right to be angry and feel betrayed.
Ah should be the one feelin' betrayed, she kissed my husband! Rogue reminded herself, she felt her shoulders slump with exhaustion. But she didn't know he was mine...she thought he belonged to some random backwoods girl who never wanted him.
It was hard to be angry with her any more, it was hard not to feel anything other than sorry for the girl, especially after realising what it was that she held so much in common with Remy. She was definitely owed an apology. Rogue just hadn't figured out how to do that yet.
End of Part Forty-One
I'm sure there's no surprise that Tabitha would have picked up the signs, lol. Tabitha is anything but stupid, even if she is young and a little loose, lol. I've been rather surprised by people saying they like the way I've written her (considering I've really taken the piss and made her a slut and technically at this point even something of a prostitute). It's very shocking for me that anyone would like the way I write her, lol. Strange.
Chapter 42 will be coming shortly. I've finished the story (finally) and am satisfied with the ending. Hopefully you all will be too. I don't know if I'll be getting it all up this weekend (got some stuff to do as well and editing the chapters for publishing sometimes takes about an hour or two depending on length). I'm glad to be done with the story in some ways but at the same time a little sad to see it go. Don't know where I'll go to next after I, Assassin is finished lol.
Anyway, as always thank you so much for your reviews and comments, they're always appreciated, hopefully you all like this chapter.