Chapter Summary: Rogue deals with the fallout from her fight and finally calls home
XOXOXOXOX
The sound of a car door slamming jolted Rogue awake, her back and ribs protesting the sudden movement. As she felt herself being lifted out of the cushy leather seat, Rogue cracked an eye open and was surprised to see the Guild Hall. Remy was carrying her.
He moved lightly, barely jostling her as he walked the short distance from the garage to the main house. In spite of his efforts, Rogue's back felt like it was on fire, and her ribs throbbed dully as he shifted her weight to open the backdoor.
"What are we doing here?" she asked, trying to shake the sleep from her voice.
"Jean-Luc convinced the High Court and Marius to reconvene later. Tante's inside waiting for you." Remy's chest rumbled. Rogue made a sound of agreement. She was too tired to put up any sort of fight.
Sure enough, Tante was waiting for them by the stairs with a black bag. Together the trio headed for Rogue's room. After setting Rogue down on the bed, Remy was shooed back into the hallway to allow Tante to do her work.
"You need to go wash up, Honey. Then I can work on fixing you up. There are some washcloths next to the sink. Do you need any help?" Tante asked gently.
"No, I'll be fine." Rogue stood from the bed and headed for the bathroom leaving Tante Mattie to start pulling various tins from her black bag.
Rogue tried not to wince when the bathroom light came on. It felt like her head was being split in two. Julien and Colt's psyches were at each other's throats. Turning on the tap, Rogue closed her eyes and tried not to whimper. Opening her eyes, Rogue reached for one of the washcloths and the soap beside the sink. Looking in the mirror, she froze.
Her face and neck were spattered with blood.
She had blood on her face.
She had someone's blood on her face.
Shit. The washcloth dropped from her hand, making a dull splat as it landed on the counter. Rogue leaned heavily over the sink, sucking in a breath. Her stomach rolled violently. Focus on the facts. Focus on the facts. Focus on the facts.
She knew that Colt would have killed her and Julien.
She knew that there wasn't any other way out than to fight.
She knew that help wouldn't have arrived in time.
She knew she was a killer.
You're not a killer, fille, Julien scoffed.
Five bodies say otherwise, Sugah. Rogue snarked back.
Oh please. If any Assassin acted like this after a job, we'd dispose of them as a liability. You're not a killer, fille…just a survivor. Julien finished gruffly. Rogue paused. Was Julien's psyche comforting her?
Don't read into it. Julien grunted, then fell silent.
Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, the nausea began to pass. Snatching the washcloth, Rogue kept her eyes away from the mirror as she scrubbed at her face. Only when the water ran clear and her face felt raw did she risk another glance in the mirror.
Mercifully her face was clean, but even to Rogue's eyes, she looked paler than normal.
"Come on, Child. I need to get at your back," Tante ordered softly from the doorway. Rogue followed Tante Mattie out to the bedroom. The older woman was wearing latex gloves, and patiently waited for her to comply. Silently Rogue sat on the bed. She didn't bother to hide the wince as she pulled the shirt over her head, finally getting it off.
Tante wasted no time getting to work. She gently applied salves and balms, massaging them into Rogue's skin while muttering under her breath in French the whole time. When she was satisfied with her work Tante Mattie reached over and handed Rogue a cup of tea that was sitting by the bedside. The smell of mint and herbs filled Rogue's nose.
"Here, Child, drink this. It will help with the pain," Tante Mattie said giving Rogue a gentle smile. Patting her on the arm, the older woman gathered her things, "You just do what needs doing before you fall asleep, understand?" Rogue eyed the woman, wondering briefly if she was a precog. As Tante Mattie left, Remy stepped back into the room.
"You doing okay, Cher?" he asked. Rogue snorted at that.
Sighing, Rogue leaned farther back on one arm and drained the last of her tea. "I don't know. I guess? I should at least try to put the psyches away before I fall asleep."
"Maybe a little help then?" Remy asked, handing over her cell phone. Glancing at the screen, she saw there were multiple missed calls from the Mansion. Cerebro had probably picked up on her using her powers.
Remy left, giving her space to make the call. Punching in the phone number, Rogue waited to see if someone would pick up at – shit – 12:39 in the morning.
"Hello, Rogue," the Professor's voice greeted from the other end.
"Hi, Professor. I'm sorry it's so late. I saw you called, and I wanted to call you back," Rogue apologized.
"Yes, Cerebro picked up on you using your powers. Are you alright?" the Professor asked.
Rogue almost said yes, that she was fine and that there was nothing to worry about, but the words stuck in her throat. Finally, she whispered, "No. I'm not."
"Do you wish to talk about it?"
At the gentle inquiry, something cracked inside her, and a sob burst from her mouth before Rogue could swallow it back. A damn had broken. Against her will, the story came tumbling out of her. All the fear. All the uncertainty. The Professor, for his part, listened without interruption.
When Rogue finally ran out of words, he spoke.
"I'm sorry to hear all this. I must ask, are you alright? Do you feel safe where you are? I can have Logan come get you tonight if need be." he offered.
Rogue took a shuddering breath. In the wake of telling someone the story, a feeling of calm was taking over. "No. I'm safe now. I'm probably going to head back tomorrow or the day after anyway."
"Very well. I will trust your judgment on this, but I must insist that you call every day until you leave. And I won't be responsible for Logan's response if you miss checking in…or any property damage the LeBeaus may incur." Rogue gave a wet laugh at the unexpected joke from the Professor.
"You know I don't condone killing, Rogue, but I am glad that you were able to keep yourself and others alive using your wits and your training. For that, I am very proud of you." The Professor said.
Rogue felt a knot that had been forming in her chest release at the Professor's words. She wasn't sure how the older man she looked up to for guidance would respond to the blood on her hands.
"I believe we should discuss this situation more in-depth, but that can wait until you have returned home. In the meantime, would you like me to walk you through a guided meditation?"
"Yeah, Professor. That sounds real nice." Rogue murmured.
"I want you to get comfortable and close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths and practice clearing your mind as you do at the beginning of all of our sessions…" Rogue leaned back on the pillows, following the Professor's instructions. As she began to put the psyches away, her mind became quieter until she drifted off.
Remy stepped back into the room. Rogue was asleep on the bed, her phone next to her. On silent feet, he padded over to the bed picking up the phone.
"Bonne soirée Professor."
"Good evening, Gambit. I trust that Rogue has fallen asleep if you were able to take her phone without any trouble." The Professor guessed. Remy chuckled softly. The older man didn't seem the slightest bit surprised by him picking up the phone.
"Oui, ma Cherie is out like a light."
"Excellent. I hope Rogue will be able to get some rest tonight and recover from her ordeal."
"Moi aussi. Professor, I believe there are some things we need to discuss. Perhaps I can speak with you later in the morning?"
"Yes, I believe there are. I look forward to your call…at more civilized hours, of course."
"Bien sûr, Professor. Bonne nuit."
"Goodnight Gambit."
Remy ended the call and plugged the phone in. Looking down at the sleeping woman, he hoped that she would sleep through the night.
Weighing his options, Remy grabbed an extra blanket from the closet. Carefully he covered Rogue before sliding into the bed beside her. Thieves were exceptionally light sleepers. If Colt or Julien's psyches gave her trouble tonight, hopefully, he could wake Rogue before they overwhelmed her.
At least, that's what he would tell her if she woke up and found him there.
Remy had lived through many close calls. Most of the time, he just waved them off with a smirk and a two-finger salute. But, in spite of himself, fear was still clinging to him. He couldn't shake the panic he'd felt when Yvonne and the Assassin's girl burst into the Boucherie, saying Colt was behind the killings and that Rogue had stayed behind unarmed to defend Julien.
If Rogue hadn't made it…. Remy forced the thought from his head and slipped his arms around the woman in question. Pressing a kiss to the top of Rogue's head, he pulled her closer and flipped off the light.
XOXOXOXOX
Next Chapter: Rogue goes before the High Court
Fun Facts:
Tante Mattie, or Mattie Baptiste, in the comics is a descendant of angels and the traiteur for both New Orleans' Guilds. It is never made clear if her healing powers are a result of witchcraft or her alleged lineage.
Traiteurs are a type of faith healer who combines medicinal remedies and prayers, typically spoken in Cajun French, to heal a person. While today most people consider them to be folklore, traiteurs do still exist in part of Southern Louisiana and, by some estimates, are growing in popularity.