Campfire Stories

Summary: Rogue is left as the responsible adult when the other mutants at Xavier's want to go camping. As the last one awake, she indulges in a quiet moment alone beside the campfire. What happens when she finds herself alone with the enemy?

Written for Writer's Month 2023 Day 2 – Camping

It wasn't that I didn't like my creature comforts. Believe me, I did. But, I also knew that they could be taken away from you quicker than you could blink, so it didn't pay to hold onto it too dearly. Besides, with all the camping gear we had brought from the Mansion, we were hardly roughing it.

Still, from the complaints of the other, you'd have thought we were torturing them, not sleeping in the great outdoors. Then again, maybe Kitty was the smart one. After the great Northwest camping expedition with Beast, Kitty refused to join our much more local trip. Now, she had the Mansion practically to herself, while I was the 'responsible' adult in charge of the kids. And the 'new mutants' weren't exactly known for the restraint. Thankfully, they'd worn themselves out over an hour ago and were practically asleep before they hit their sleeping bags. Which left me watching the fire until it burned itself out for the night.

The campfire flared to prolonged life as I tossed dry twigs into the fiery depths. I knew if I kept feeding it the kindling we'd gathered earlier in the day the fire wouldn't go out anytime soon, but for some reason I wasn't ready to let the fire go cold. Maybe it had something to do with all the time I spent training with Wolverine these days. Or, maybe, it was the quiet. Things were rarely quiet at the Mansion and never quiet in my head. Here, in the dead of night with only the nocturnal sounds of nature, the crackling campfire, and Ray's muffled snoring to fill the night, I could get lost in my own thoughts.

I tucked my gloveless hands inside the cuffs of my oversized hoodie and shifted so I sat cross legged in the camp chair. The cool autumnal air was just crisp enough that all my layers felt good instead of the constricting way they normally clung to my clammy skin throughout the summer. I felt almost normal under my layers of sweaters.

Staring into the fire, my vision drifted out of focus as I watched the flames dance along the logs. I couldn't even remember the last time I had the chance to simply sit and think. At least as the others slept, they weren't watching me with that wary, paranoid suspicion that I might turn on them at any moment.

Honestly, I was sick of it, but where else would I go? I shoved the answering thought deep down in my subconscious where I kept all the unwanted psyches. That wasn't an option. It couldn't be. For better or worse, the X-Men were my family and he… Well, he worked for our enemy and I never thought Romeo and Juliet was all that romantic.

The wind shifted direction, sending the smoke in my direction. Instead of moving, I closed my eyes and waited for the wind to shift again. I was too cozy and comfortable where I sat. Besides, I didn't want to expose my limbs to any more of the cool autumnal air than I must.

After a minute or two the wind shifted enough that it no longer assaulted my face and I opened my eyes, braving the night air. Blinking rapidly, my eyes watered with the remnants of smoke in the air. As my blurry vision cleared, movement along the far side of the clearing caught my eye. It was too big for a raccoon, too small for a bear. It moved in a quick flittering among shadows with too much intelligence to merely be an animal.

My breath caught in my chest. This was it. For the last week or so, I would have sworn there was someone lingering around the periphery of the Mansion. While Logan didn't think I was making up stories nor jumping at shadows, he found no evidence of my lurking phantasm. I'd begun to chalk up the sensation as a figment of my crowded imagination. But, now I was right. I knew it.

From the shadows, the eyes which stared back at me were not the reflective pools of a stray 'possum terrified into stillness. Rather, it was the gleaming, red embers I missed the sight of as much as I missed the ability to touch.

He stood at the edge of the clearing in that uncanny way of his until he practically melted into the shadows. If it wasn't for the dim glow of his eyes, I wouldn't have noticed him at all.

"Hey swamp rat," I hissed in as loud of a whisper as I dared. "Ya gonna stand there and stare all night? Or, are ya gonna pull up a seat and join me?"

It was all the invite he needed. Before I could blink, he'd pulled up one of the camp chairs and joined me beside the fire. The arms of his chair brushed the arms of mine. All I had to do was stretch out my arm and I could touch him. I wouldn't, but I could. And, at the moment it was all that mattered.

I hadn't seen him, not since I left him on the shore of Blood Moon Bayou. It never sat right with me, the way I left him behind. But, he had to make his own choice. He might have manipulated me into helping rescue his father, but I wasn't gonna do the same. He wasn't wrong when he said we could write a book, I just wanted it to have a happy ending.

"Never took you for the camping type." He stretched his hands out towards the fire.

"Not really, but they needed someone to chaperone and I drew the short straw." I tossed more kindling into the fire. His eyes followed the movement of my bare hands, but made no movement away from where we sat within touching distance. "Though, can't say I mind. At least not when all the kids are in bed. It's easier to think out here."

He nodded. Though I couldn't tell if it was in agreement, or simply an automatic response to fill the sentence I left. That wasn't like Remy. Even when we were enemies, facing each other on opposite sides of the battlefield, his focus never wavered. He always knew what I needed, even when I couldn't find the words to express it. When we were together—not, together together, obviously. I meant, like when we fought, or saw each other around Bayville, or…anyways—he had this way of focusing on me like I was the only person in the room, like I mattered. With him, I never felt like a dangerous mutation who happened to be a person. Rather, I was first and foremost a girl. A woman. A desirable woman.

I shook my head to clear the foolishness. It was clear that we weren't meant to be. Not while he was torn between worlds and I was little more than a dangerous pawn in the X-Men's safe keeping.

As the silence prolonged, I took the opportunity to study him in the flickering firelight. He looked bad. I mean, he looked good in that way he always looked good. Tall and lithe, with sharp features and piercing eyes. But, he had dark bags under his eyes. The which usually appeared when a person hadn't had a good night's sleep in over a fortnight. Also, there was something gaunt about him. Sure he was normally composed of long, lean muscle, except now there was a hollowness about him. Gaunt—that was the word I was looking for. Like he hadn't had a decent meal for the same length of time he hadn't slept. He was a broken shadow of the man he once was.

"How long do you plan to remain out here?" he asked, breaking me from my line of thought.

"Until the fire burns out." I gestured at the still burning blaze. "Bobby offered to freeze the embers."

Remy snorted. That was the first bit of life I'd seen in him since he joined me. "And how did he plan to relight it in the morning? Saturated wood half drowned in a puddle of mud and ash doesn't exactly hold much of a flame."

"I know. That's why I said I'd stay out here." I scooted to the edge of my chair and made a production of stretching. "Look, I was thinking about getting a snack. You want anything?"

The tight nod of his head did nothing to hide the desperation haunting his eyes. "If it ain't too much of a bother."

I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't have offered it it was a bother."

Which, was a lie. We both knew it. Even if it meant I had to hike all the way back to Bayville to get some food, I still would have offered.

"Merci."

As I headed for the coolers to find him something to eat, I glanced over my shoulder at Remy. He slouched in the chair with his chin drooping towards his chest while his eyelids fluttered in a losing battle to stay awake. His shoulders sagged and his hands laid harmlessly on his lap. It was the first time I'd ever seen him relax. His guard was completely down—like he was trusting me to keep him safe. A shiver ran down my spine at that thought. From the last time I absorbed him, I knew he hadn't trusted anyone in a long time. Yet, it was now, in my presence—his enemy's presence—that he felt secure enough to rest. I'd never asked for that, still…I was glad.

A voice in my head which sounded a lot like Scott, warned me not to trust him, that he was nothing but trouble and probably looking to con us. I shook the warning out of my head. I didn't much care for Scott's definition about who was and was not worthy of common human dignity. Logan's voice advised caution, but I think he recognized another lost soul seeking family or atonement or a little bit of both. But, it was voice which sounded like my brother which reassured me I was doing the right thing. It was all about second chances and a forgiveness. While Mystique might have burned all her second chances long ago, Remy had barely even been given a first.

When I returned a few minutes later, Remy had fully drifted off to sleep. I hated to wake him, but with my team's tendency to make assumptions first, ask questions never, I figured it would be better to help him as much as possible before we had to fight the others about it.

From our less than traditional trip to New Orleans I knew he was a light sleeper and he startled easily. So, I stood about a foot away and whispered into the darkness. "Hey."

He slept on, dead to the word.

"Hey, swamp rat." I tucked my hand in my sleeve and touched his shoulder. With his eyes still closed, his hand darted up and caught my wrist in a vice-like hold. His breathing held a forced calm quality and tension pulled his muscles taut as a bowstring.

"Chu, chu. It's me, Rogue." I murmured, keeping my voice low and my posture loose. All I could do was hope my presence would get through to him. The way he reacted reminded me of being around Logan when he was in the middle of one of his walking nightmares.

Remy's eyes fluttered open. After a moment or two, he returned to the here and now. It was strange how I could tell the moment he went from being lost in sleep to truly seeing me. His body relaxed and a sheepish smile took the place of his usual wolfish grin.

"Here." I handed him a stack of spare clothes pulled from what I'd packed—a long sleeve t-shirt, another of my oversized hoodies, and a pair of sweatpants which would inevitably be too short for him. It wasn't much, but it would be better than what he was presently wearing. "There's a shower just up the path." I added my bag of toiletries and handful of quarters to the stack of clothes. "The shower runs on quarters. 'Fraid this won't give you as long as you'd probably like, but it should be enough to get you clean."

"You're an angel, mon coeur." He captured my hand and leaned over it to press a kiss a hairsbreadth above my knuckles.

A flush heated my cheeks enough that the burn was enough to rival the heat emanating from the fire.

His grin was that of the cat who'd stolen the cream. He turned my hand over and rubbed small circles across the palm. "Your hands are freezing chère!"

"How can you tell?" I stared down at his hands covered in black, leather gloves. Sure, my fingers were a bit cold, but they weren't reaching the chill of ice cubs or anything like that. It was unlikely he could feel the cold through the protective layer. If anyone ought to know about the way gloves dulled the senses, it was me.

In lieu of an answer, he waved the hand not holding mine around the clothes and wiggled his fingers. The golden-red light of the campfire flickered across the contrasting colors of his hand. I blinked once, than twice in an attempt to clear my vision. Surely I still had smoke in my eyes. There was no way I could be seeing what I was seeing. Except…I was.

There was no mistaking the facts. He wore a pair of modified gloves which left his thumb, forefinger, and pinkie finger bare. My gaze drifted back to the hand still attempting to warm mine. At closer inspection, it was clad in a similarly modified glove.

Why wasn't he passed out in the chair and my brain inundated with his psyche?

The warmth of his touch burned through the chill and sent shivers down my spine. I tightened my grasp around his, not wanting the moment to end. He winced slightly at the strength of my grasp, but made no attempt to release my hand.

"How are you doing that?" It felt like this was happening to someone else.

"It ain't me, chère. It's all you."

I wanted to kiss him. I would have—right then or there—if I hadn't wanted our first kiss to be somewhat more intentional. And, somewhere where the others weren't likely to walk in on us and make the wrong assumptions as they were apt to do.

The dull glow in his eyes burned a little brighter, and with more life than I'd seen in his eyes since his arrival.

"Later, mon coeur." He sealed his promise with a light kiss brushed across my knuckles.

The flush in my cheeks reached beyond infared and stained my exposed skin a scarlet brilliant enough to rival his eyes. He had the good grace not to mention it as he started towards the showers. With a lingering reluctance, he only let go of my head when our arms could stretch no further

By the time Remy returned from the showers, I'd gotten my blush under control and had put together three egg and bacon sandwiches. It was a minor miracle in itself that none of the others had awaken at the scent of frying bacon, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Remy consumed the first sandwich in three before starting on the second one at a more sedate pace. He eyed the third like he was considering stashing it in one of the vast pockets of his weather-beaten leather coat. I gestured at the leftover ingredients. "Eat, sug, there's more where that came from."

"Merci," he said around a mouthful.

"So…" I fiddled with the aglet on my hoodie. "I'm surprised to see you this far north. I thought you were staying in New Orleans now."

He swallowed hard to avoid choking on the sandwich. His gaze drifted to his bare shins and he dug his toe into the dirt.

"'m banished," Remy mumbled in a voice which sounded as dry as if he'd swallowed a bucketful of sand.

Reaching across the gap between us, I took his bare hand in my own. I marveled at the feel of his hands. His skin was calloused and work worn. There was a natural warmth from the fire which ran beneath his skin. When I squeezed his hand, he returned the grip with equal pressure. "What happened?"

In a harsh exhalation, he spat out the next bit of his story, "That plan mon père insisted would solve all the Guild's problems, it went to hell in a hand basket. I could of told them that. Mais, non, I had to go through with the wedding to Belladonna…"

At the mention of marriage, I froze. Ever since I absorbed him I knew it was a possibility, but it seemed so unlikely. It's why he ran. Why he joined Magneto. To get out of the marriage contract he didn't want. Apparently he hadn't been able to run far or fast enough to escape his fate. Except that clearly wasn't the end of the story. I held his left hand and there was no ring around his finger.

"Before the wedding papers were signed, her fool of a brother challenged me to a duel to the death. Guess, you can figure out how that ended." The dry sardonic edge to his words was brittle and prickly. "Even though he would have killed me if he had gotten the chance, I still had to play the blood price. Death or banishment."

"Oh, Rems." I didn't know how to comfort people. I was never allowed close enough to offer physical comfort. So, instead I acted on instinct and wrapped him in an awkward embrace across the chairs. Despite the folding framework stabbing me in the ribs and half Remy's torso being pressed awkwardly across the canvas arm, the weight he'd been carrying began to lift.

"Chose banishment." The pain of never being able to return to his beloved New Orleans bled out raw and visceral with every word and beat of his heart. "I couldn't die. Not when you were still out here. I needed to see you again."

I swallowed back the lump of emotion. When was the last time someone needed me and not simply what I could do?

"Stay," I whispered.

"D'accord," he agreed around a yawn.

With that exchange, the promise of home hung in the air between us.

"I've got a tent to myself." I gestured towards where I was staying away from the others. Nobody wanted to share close quarters with the girl with poisoned skin. Although, that was about to change. "Make yourself at home and I'll join you once I douse the fire."

I made quick work of setting the campsite to rights and joined Remy in the tent. As for how we spent the rest of the night, well, that is a story which is no one's business but ours.