21 February
Masquerade. -n.1. a party, dance, or other festive gathering of persons wearing masks and other disguises, and often elegant, historical, or fantastic costumes 2. a costume or disguise worn at such a gathering 3. false outward show; facade; pretense 4. activity, existence, etc., under false pretenses -v. (used without object) 5. to go about under false pretenses or a false character; assume the character of; give oneself out to be 6. to disguise oneself 7. to take part in a masquerade
On her way down the hallway, Rogue heard the front door to the mansion open. Remy's voice, laced in surprise, greeted the guest. Curiosity getting the better of her, Rogue ambled down the hall to the balcony over the entryway. A young woman, around the same age as the high schoolers that all resided there, shivered before Remy. She wore long sleeves and pants, but no coat. Her blonde hair was done up in braids, but it somehow added to a fearsome air rather than young.
"Dis where you been hidin' out an' avoidin' responsibility, eh?" the woman asked Remy. Her accent nearly matched Remy's, but it was much thicker. Rogue had to strain her ears and concentrate to make out the words.
"Should'a known one'a yas was gonna find me sooner den later," Remy replied with resign. Rogue blinked. Suddenly, his accent that she already had a difficult time understanding at times, was just as thick as the guest. He shrugged his coat off his back and wrapped it over the blonde's shoulders, leaving the sleeves dangle at her sides. "Ya must be cold. Whatchoo t'inkin', comin' up nort' wit'out no coat, ma chere?"
"Came ta get you, sot," the blonde scoffed. She stepped forward, inches away from him, angling her face to his. "Dat gonna be a problem?"
Remy stared at her, refusing to relinquish his ground. "I ain' doin' it, Belle."
Her expression immediately flashed to one of anger, though it whisked by in an instant. The next thing Rogue knew, her mouth was on Remy's. She kissed him with furious passion, and Rogue was certain that he kissed back. Rogue threw herself to the floor, her back against the banister. She shoved her fist against her mouth to quiet herself, and then leaned over to continue watching through the balusters.
In the short time Rogue worked through her crisis, the woman had pushed Remy back, slamming his back into the nearby wall. She gripped his wrists and held them tightly against the surface. Remy's coat remained perched precariously on her shoulders. "I t'ought you love me, Remy," she mewled. She pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his face as she spoke. Rogue could barely hear her words.
Either she had some unseen super strength, or Remy didn't care to fight back against her. His chest rose in a deep breath, and then he let it out in a strong heave. "I can' keep doin' it no more. It all a ploy doomed t' fail. I go back, da bot'a us only gonna have more targets on our backs. Our guilds, dey meant ta stay sep'rate."
"I ain' afraid, mon amour. T'gether, I know we make it work. You fight like an assassin an' you'll have me by your side." Rogue's brows knitted together. She wasn't sure she'd ever actually seen Remy fight. What did she mean that he fought like an assassin? That sounded like a terrible thing.
"I not afraid, either," Remy rumbled. "I tired."
"Dat why you ran away?"
"I di'n't - " Remy pursed his lips and held a tight breath. "I left 'cuz'a somet'in' completely dif'rent."
"Like what?" the woman demanded.
Remy's eyes finally slid away from her and any fight he had left in his posture disappeared. "Needed help. Mah mutant powers, I coul'n't control dem. Found someone dat could help. Turns out, dat came at a … steep cost." Rogue leaned into the spindles hard enough to hurt. He had enough history with this woman to be more open with her than anyone else around the mansion. Than with Rogue. How could Remy say that he was serious about them when he seemed to keep everything from her?
"What dat gotta do wit' N'awleans?"
"Da cost brought me a job – up 'round here in Nawy'rk."
"Den why d'in't ya come back?" she asked with mounting frustration.
Remy didn't answer, but his breathing became more ragged. Rogue realized in the entire time she knew him, she'd never seen Remy in distress. Even when situations could have called for panic, he managed to stay cool and level-headed.
"Remy?" the blond prompted tersely.
His name was enough to snap him back to regain control of himself. "I join up here," Remy said noncommittally. While this entire exchange was making Rogue realize that she hardly knew Remy at all, she did understand him enough to know that this was … a lie. Rogue wasn't sure why, especially since it ultimately did end up being truth, but joining the X-Men was not the reason Remy stayed in New York. She believed him that he didn't want to go back to his home in New Orleans, but obviously things were a lot more complicated than he made it out to be when he first explained his disappearances.
"So ya jus' drop everyt'in' ya had goin' for ya un'er Jean-Luc. Ya abandon him an' me. Our marriage an' da union 'tween da t'ieves an' da assassins. An' you what? Decide ya ain't t'ief no more? Dat ya better'n us?" Rogue pressed her fist back against her mouth, processioning the accent-garbled words she'd just heard. Marriage? That assassin word again – and thief? Rogue understood none of it. He was married? Tears tickled her chin before she realized she'd begun to cry.
"Nah, ya got it wrong," Remy sighed. "I ain't fit da be da prince'a t'ieves. I ain't Jean-Luc's protege. I jus' le Diable Blanc from da streets. I gone back t' help Jean-Luc here'n den, but I tellin' ya da plans our guilds had t' unite ain't gonna work." When the majority of the X-Men told Rogue that Remy was sketchy, she didn't think they'd meant it so literally. Remy as a thief explained so much, but Rogue couldn't comprehend the extent of it all.
The woman snorted and finally released Remy's wrists, but she didn't step back to unpin him from the wall by proxy. "He got plans t' disown ya or somet'in'? What ain't ya tellin' me?"
"Ain't important," Remy said with dangerous conviction. "But no. Jean-Luc don' know. He want me back. Him'n Henri jus' short'a beggin' me t' stay e'ry time I down der, but … ma chere, ma amour, it ain't home no more." Rogue's heart skipped a beat, jarring her entirely. She'd caught the pet name earlier, but he called most girls "chere". He was adding possessives with this lady. She was his love? His wife? He really was playing Rogue like a fiddle and she was bending to his every move.
"Da hell it ain't, Remy LeBeau!" the woman snarled. "We ruled da streets'a N'awleans as kids, an' we'll rule da un'erground as rightful guildmasters, cher."
"Bella Donna, enough," Remy said, his tone back to level reason. "Da t'ieves, I know dey all stan' behind me an' follow me if I ask, but dat ain't da life I lookin' for."
"Why not?" Bella Donna demanded.
"Je t'aime toujours, ma amour," Remy replied dismissively. "But I beggin' ya t' leave dis 'lone. Me an' da t'ieves, we been workin' t'ings out - "
"It ain't workin', Remy," Bella Donna cut in firmly. "We know da stupid li'l plans you been concoctin' wit' Jean-Luc, but short'a you comin' home, da assassins guild gonna kill your entire family."
Remy's posture broke, his head smacking against the wall behind him. Rogue wiped the tears from her eyes and stared at him intently. "Okay," he said softly after a lengthy pause.
"Okay?" Bella Donna echoed crossly.
"I go home wit' you. I don' need der blood on my hands."
"An' me? I ain't somet'in' in dis?"
Remy peeled himself away from the wall and grabbed her hands in his own. "Ma amoure, don' you go believin' somet'in' silly like dat, hmm? I love you since da day we met an' stole candy from dat shop owner." His face was so close to hers, that Rogue felt hot fury burn away the wetness of the tears off her cheeks. He wasn't the one to initiate the next kiss, but he didn't push Bella Donna away when she kissed him again.
Rogue had seen enough. She rolled off the banister spindles and crawled back to the hallway she'd come from. She stood once she was sure she was out of eyesight. The tears came freely again, angry sobs threatening to betray her eavesdropping.
"I gotta tell someone I leavin' first," she heard Remy say. This came more clearly and loudly to her ears than any of the other bayou words out of their mouths.
"What for?" Bella Donna asked.
"I promised," Remy explained simply.
"Oh, so dis personal an' not professional, hein?"
"Yeah. Dis one is."
He was coming for Rogue, Rogue realized. He'd promised her specifically that he'd make sure to tell her that he was leaving for home when the occasion arose.
She tore down the hall, masking her footsteps as best as she could in her haste. Hiccups interrupted her muffled cries as fury swirled heavily in her chest. He'd been leading Rogue on all along, but he had the audacity to continue playing pretend for when he came back? He'd lied and charmed her the entire time he'd known her. She was a game to him. And for what? He couldn't touch her. Rogue couldn't fathom why her, of all people. There was nothing she could give him. Bella Donna was a much better fit for him.
Rogue reached her room, slammed the door closed behind her, and threw herself on the bed. She curled up under the covers in a tiny ball, allowing the wracking sobs to overcome her. Before long, a knock sounded at Rogue's door. Dim light from the hallway permeated her room before she could answer. "Chere?"
"Go away, Remy," Rogue warbled. Not at all the formidable tone she wanted to take with him.
Remy was silent for a moment, and Rogue would have thought he left, but the lighting didn't change. "Fuck."
Rogue sniffed and wiped her burning eyes, but she didn't give him a reply to his realization.
"How much ya heard?" he asked gently.
"Everything."
The handle to her door jingled softly when he leaned against the open door. A tired sigh floated across to her. "I don' deserve it, but ya promise me ya won' tell no one what ya heard 'til I can explain?"
"Ah don't care, swamp rat." Rogue tried to put as much venom as she could muster into her words, but her voice was too raw from crying. "Ah fell for your every silver word like a damn fool." Another sob overtook her and hot tears spilled anew.
"Yeah, y'know, I deserve dat." Still, he didn't leave. "None's dis like ya t'ink," he said with a hint of desperation. "But I, uh, I gotta go now an' I ain't got da time ta explain. Merde dis looks bad."
"Go away," Rogue repeated.
"I ain't been lyin' t'ya, chere," Remy added. Heartbreak coated his voice. Rogue almost wanted to believe him. "What we had – dat was all real."
Rogue curled in tighter, biting her finger to keep quiet.
"T'ing is, I dunno when I can get back." He paused. "Dunno if I can get back," he said so low that Rogue almost didn't catch it. He audibly exhaled. "But I promise ya I tell ya when I leave, so … far's anyone know 'round here, it jus' messy family bidness, comprends? Jus' got a hell'a lot messier. Au revoir, Rogue. I so sorry ya got caught up in it."
Her door closed, bathing her in miserable darkness.