"Kitty, Ah don't know what yah're so excited about. Tha date ain't fohr anotha two months, at least. And yah aren't even goin." Midnight in the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children, and the great mansion lay in relative silence, a quiet rare considering the number of pubescent residents contained within. Rogue had returned the previous day, and the welcome had been both generous and joyous, and the warm emotions only increased upon hearing the news of Rogue's newly-acquired control of her powers. Even students who rarely, if ever, spoke to Rogue were lining up for their chance to congratulate the Southern Goth.
"Like, Rogue, it should be obvious! You're going on a date with the guy of your dreams!" Kitty rolled her eyes as though what she'd said was as obvious a fact as how to take in oxygen. "Rogue, this guy has been, like, drooling over you since before he moved here, and I know you've had it bad for him for a while." Rogue had always been a very private person, even before the onset of her mutation. Irene had instilled a deep sense of privacy and personal space into the girl from a very early age. However, after sharing a room with the enthusiastic gossip for several months, Rogue had begun to open up to the girl, and by the time the first year rolled around, the two were sharing lengthy midnight conversations. Every now and then, however, Rogue longed for that old privacy, at no time more than when Kitty entered into a discussion of the opposite sex. Kitty's latest statement snapped Rogue out of her approaching sleep, launching her into a full upright position.
"What did ya just say? Ah have not been droolin ova thaht Swamp Rat! Ah neva shoulda told ya about this."
"You know, Rogue, you shouldn't make denials like that. I mean, how would your boyfriend react?" Kitty stated coolly, fully cognizant of the ill effect it would have on her short-tempered roommate.
"Kitty, Ah'm gonna toss ya out the damn window, Ah swear…" Rogue growled through tightly clamped teeth. As Kitty turned to lie down, smirking slightly, Rogue had a sudden thought concerning retribution against her best friend.
"Ya know, Kit, as long as we're discussing boyfriends, how about ya tell me what exactly ya and Piotr got goin on." It was Rogue's turn to smirk as Kitty sprang out of bed with the timed immediacy of an animatronics puppet, sputtering to form some semblance of a coherent sentence
"Like, I have no idea what you're talking about Rogue!" Kitty finally managed to gasp out after several minutes of hemming and hawing. "Piotr and I are just very good friends. We-we, like, got into a nice discussion about literature, that's all, Rogue."
"Ya know Kitty, I don't think ya're bohfriend would be too happy to hear thaht." Rogue smirked evilly as she turned to go to sleep, her smile growing wider as a pillow hurled by Kitty. Despite being extremely wired due to the exchange with her roommate, the two weeks of fitful sleep and medical testing soon overtook the momentary rush of adrenaline that came from verbally sparring with her friend.
As Rogue's pale eyelids fell together, obscuring her eyes from the world, Kitty still sat up in her bed mere feet away. Despite her quick vocal denial of any amorous emotions directed toward the statuesque Russian, within her own head the answer was nowhere close to comprehensible. Contradicting voices rang through her head until they blended together into a seamless whine, serving only to further confuse the petite teenager. As her roommate slept peacefully for the first time in weeks, Kitty found that sleep eluded her as the illuminated red numbers cruelly mocked her.
"Leave it alone" James Wilson declared as he trod down the interlocking hallways, following his friend and co-worker.
"Are you heartless? One of my employees has obviously had some sort of deep, traumatic experience. What kind of boss would I be if I didn't do everyone I could to help him?"
"There aren't enough hours in the day to answer that question," came James' sarcastic response as they approached an elevator, a random goal to a trip with no direction. "Where are you going?"
"Where are we going, you mean." James shook his head and sighed as he entered the elevator. He had no idea as to their current destination, but he hoped that he could talk House out of whatever he had planned before they both arrived.
His feet perched on the nearest table within leg's reach of his chair; Remy took in a second sip of his first coffee of the day.
Jus as good as de first. Dis coffee might actually worth wakin up at dis ungodly hour o de morning. Since coming to the institute, Remy had not tasted a single cup of coffee that didn't taste exactly like its place of origin, that origin being the ancient coffeemaker that resided in the kitchen. Probably de only electronic t'ing in de whole place dat hasn't met it's death at de hands o dese kids. Remy thought with a grimace, a grimace that was erased with the aid of his coffee.
"Stormy, Remy got ti say dis is de best cup o coffee he ever had."
"Thank you very much, Mr. LeBeau," Said the calm woman as she moved gracefully toward the table, clutching her own mug of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her. Once she reached the table, however, she refused to sit, instead staring with annoyance at the black boots propped up with lazy abandon. However, once Storm cleared her throat and made brief eye contact with the Cajun teen, his boots found their rightful place below the table.
"If ya don' mind, Yi can call me Remy. Dis Cajun ain't old enough ti be called Mr. jus yet."
"Just consider it a nickname, Mr. Lebeau." Ororo said, her mug of coffee obscuring the small smile that drew itself across her lips as she concentrated on the plate before her. Remy raised a single eyebrow at her statement, and then smiled despite himself.
"Touché, Chere."
"Before I forget, I should warn you to avoid Logan as long as is possible. He's none too pleased about your sneaking out of the mansion."
"Remy takes no responsibility fo dat." He grinned over his steaming cup of coffee as Storm looked up from her breakfast for the first time since sitting down.
"Is that so?"
"Remy was falsely accused. Besides, Remy t'inks dat certain lady was dere to aid him in his escape."
"And I believe I promised to help you get back to the hospital. I said nothing about protecting you once you returned." Ororo returned her eyes to her plate of food, a move that denied her the sight of Remy's normally smug features suddenly turning to that of stunned disbelief, the young man not believing his own ears.
"Dere any chance ya were a thief in a former life, Stormy?" Blue eyes filled with a rare mischief briefly met red.
"A woman must have her secrets, Mr. Lebeau."
"So we done here, Summers? You convinced Remy ain't do anything to yer automotive, or you want ti take de engine apart again?" After his breakfast with Ororo, Remy had taken to actively avoiding Logan for the day. Unfortunately, his espionage had promptly led him right into the path of Scott Summers, who was still fuming about the unexpected joyride Remy had taken with the red and white beauty. Four hours after first running into the team leader, Remy had been happy he hadn't changed before helping Ororo in her greenhouse. The white T-shirt he normally slept in was soiled with so much engine grime and grease that a passerby would not be able to ascertain any clue as to the shirt's original color. Scott, on the other hand, had long ago abandoned his blue polo and was currently walking around shirtless; a move that did not go unnoticed by the younger female population of Xavier's, who had seemingly made a game out of who could walk by the open garage door the slowest. On any other day, Remy would have gladly absorbed the attention, but his patience had long since worn thin, and his only current concern was getting out of the garage and into the shower. Scott, leaning over the open hood and grasping the side for support, let out several slow, long exhales before meeting his quartz-clad eyes to Remy's own red and black.
"No, I'm satisfied that my car is fine. However, we're far from done here." A deaf man could have heard Remy's hopes crash land. A grimace crossed his features.
"Dat right? You just have so much fun rebuildin yer own car you feel like doin dis all day?"
"We need to talk, Remy. About Rogue." Scott walked over to the tall red toolbox that had been wheeled next to the car, the very same toolbox that was practically standard issue in garages all over America, and began wiping his hands with a cloth.
"And just what do we got to talk about, Summers?"
"For starters, my name is Scott. Summers is my last name, Remy," Started Scott, making sure to exaggerate his pronunciation of Remy's name. "And secondly, we've got a lot to talk about. I'm curious to know what exactly your interest in Rogue is." Remy was largely uninterested in what Scott was saying, until he heard the end of Scott's statement.
"Remy's interest in Rogue? What de hell is dat supposed to mean?"
"Exactly how it sounds. Even before you joined us, you had Rogue singled out. What kind of plans do you have for her?" That response, plus the look of pure seriousness that lay on Scott's face, made it incredibly hard for Remy to not laugh out loud at how ludicrous he found this entire situation.
"I got a nice dinner planned for her. We gonna go into de restaurant, we gonna eat our food, den Remy gonna drive une beau petite back to de mansion. Remy apologizes if dat ain't sinister enough for you, but he don't know a whole lot o mad scientists," As his grin stretched from ear to ear at the agitated look he was receiving from his fellow housemate, he couldn't help but push the whole thing just a little farther. "You wouldn't happen to know any, would ya? Maybe ya could help-"
"Knock it off, Remy! I'm serious about this!"
"So am I. I ain't gonna do nothing ti hurt Rogue." Remy briefly noticed that the girls had long stopped walking by the garage.
"How can we trust you?"
"Scott, how long's Remy been at dis institute?" Remy collapsed backward against the nearest wall and lit a cigarette, the thin wisps of blue smoke curling up as he inhaled, only to be destroyed by the smoke exiting from his lungs. "I ain't yer enemy anymore so quit treatin me like one," This last sentence sent Scott into a stunned silence, losing himself in his thoughts as an uneasy quiet settled over the expansive garage. Still glaring at Scott through narrowed eyes, Remy took in a couple of frantic puffs of smoke before continuing. "I joined dis place fo a reason, and dat reason ain't have nothing to do wit Magneto o de Acolytes. You ain't givin Piotr dis sort o shit, so why me?"
"Piotr didn't have a choice. You did."
"You don't know nearly as much as you t'ink ya do, Scott." The anger in the air was palpable as the two men stood with noses nearly touching, almost daring the other to throw a punch first.
"Listen," Scott started, attempting to diffuse the powder keg he was partially responsible for lighting. "I'm sure that you had your reasons, but that's not what I'm interested in right now. I just want to know that this attention you're giving Rogue is genuine."
"And jus why de hell is dat any business o yer's?" Remy a passionate man in many aspects of life, and arguments were no exception. It was blatantly obvious that Remy did not share Scott's interest in ending the quarrel.
"Because you are both my teammates. You need to be able to work together in any battle, and that means that there can't be any personal issues clouding your judgment." At this, Remy's stone-serious expression upturned, and he laughed right in Scott's face.
"Mon ami, yi eva listen ti yerself when ya talk? Remy takin' de femme out on a date, not ti de alta. Rogue a tre beau femme, but Remy ain't gonna do anyt'ing dat de girl don want ti. Yi been readin' too many James Bond books, mon ami. What exactly did yi t'ink Remy was gonna do, anyway? Take de girl to mi undaground lair? Trap her in a shark tank?" Scott's countenance first displayed puzzlement, then, to Remy's surprise, Scott smiled.
"Thanks. That's exactly what I was looking for." Scott grabbed his shirt and exited the garage, leaving Remy standing alone in the garage, confused.
"Dat's what he was lookin for? I t'ought dat livin' wit Johnny had prepared me fo dealin' wit craziness."
At the exact moment that Remy was standing in the garage debating Scott's mental condition, Rogue's day was proving none less confusing. Despite being exhausted beyond all rationale, her sleep had been panicked and fitful, punctuated by her waking up twice after hitting her cranial scars in the exact wrong way. To top it all off, she had been awoken at the profane hour of nine in the morning by the Professor to discuss a myriad of subjects, not the least of which dealt with the three weeks worth of missed school. Rogue had long since stopped paying any attention to Charles, instead choosing to play Mindless Self Indulgence songs in her own head.
Rogue, while I realize that there are a great many things you would rather be doing at this hour, I would like to remind you that this of dire importance. Rogue nearly jumped out of her seat. Despite her lengthy stay at the institute, one thing that Rogue had never quite adjusted to was dealing with living with someone who could enter her head at will. She concentrated on her boots for several seconds before meeting Charles' gaze from across the desk.
"Sorrah Professor. Ah…Ah jus didn't get a whole lot a sleep las naght."
"Be that as it may, Rogue, I'm still concerned, and not solely about the considerable amount of schoolwork that you are going to have to make up. I'm concerned about your powers."
"Mah powas? But…tha doctors said that they fixed them. They said it was all the fault of thaht tumor…" Rogue trailed off, not wanting to consider that her powers…her curse…was not truly fixed at all.
"Your powers are no longer uncontrollable, yes. However, I'm apprehensive about the sudden switch when you have had such little control for such a long time. I've asked Logan to remove you from the regular Danger Room rotation until further notice. He will be working with you directly."
"Workin with meh…how, exactly?"
"I want to ascertain exactly how your powers will work now that your control is heightened."
"Wait…Ah'm gonna be an experiment?" Rogue asked, ire already injecting itself into her words.
"Not at all, Rogue. I'm simply concerned about how your powers will adapt given this new development." Rogue nodded silently, still unconvinced about the entire situation. "I can sense your trepidation at this request, Rogue. However, I can assure you that I have no underhanded intentions for you. We are solely concerned with your safety."
"We? Who's we?" Rogue demanded, the anger rising like bile.
"Dr. McCoy, Logan, and myself. I would recommend talking to Logan at some point. He's been especially concerned with your well-being over these past few weeks."
"Was this Logan's idea?" Logan had become one of the few people at the institute Rogue felt she could honestly trust.
"A large part of it was. Logan approached Henry and me after last night's festivities. He was curious as to how your powers would operate now that you had more control.Henry and I shared Logan's concern, and after a long conversation, we came up with the idea to have Logan train with you alone, just until we have a clear reading on your powers."
"Ah…Ah guess that sounds good." Rogue muttered as she rubbed her bicep with her palm, a nervous habit she had possessed for as long as she could remember.
"You will have some time before anything starts, Rogue. At the present time, we're all just all glad you're alright."
"Believe meh, Ah am too." Xavier allowed a small smile to cross his lips.
"I'm sure you are. Now, unless you have any more questions, I believe Dr. McCoy has requested your presence in the medical bay."
"Nah, Am'm all right fohr now."
Disturbing memories of Mystique flitted through her mind throughout the entire walk down to the medical bay. She could see wispy images of the redheaded femme fatale in the back of her head, taunting her like a possessed move projector.
Why do all mah problems have red hair? Rogue asked herself, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer to that question, especially considering she herself had red hair most of the time. Most of tha tame, anyway, she thought as she gingerly lifted a hand to her shorn head.
"Ah, Rogue. I wasn't expecting you this early. I had assumed Charles would have taken longer to talk with you." Henry lifted his enlarged feet off of the stainless steel industrial desk he had propped them upon and walked over to greet Rogue. When she saw what he had been involved in previous to her entry, a smile crossed her purple lips.
"Ya were eatin Twinkies, Dr. McCoy?"
"It is indeed a small vice, but a vice nonetheless."
"Ah figured a guy lahke you would be against junk food."
"Of course I am an active proponent of the ingestion of healthful fruits and vegetables, but as the great Oscar Wilde, once said, 'I can resist everything except temptation.' Now, if you would be so kind as to sit this chair, this examination shouldn't be overly lengthy." Rogue didn't sit so much as slump into the chair, her past memories wearing her nerves raw.
"Hey, Docta McCoy, can ah talk to ya fohr a minute?" Hank grasped Rogue's bare wrist and held the pad of his thumb just below the palm.
"Of course you may, Rogue. I am always open to discussion."
"Well, what do ya think is gonna happen now that mah mutation is controllable?" Henry removed his thumb and placed a sphygmomanometer around Rogue's lean bicep.
"Science and medicine have yet to truly study the mutant x-gene and mutation over long periods of time, and as such it is difficult to ascertain exactly what effect the removal of the tumor will have over an extended period of time. You may be interested to know that your unique circumstance may in fact change the entire approach to the control of powers. With your permission, Rogue, I'd like to write up your case study for publication," Hank removed the mechanical device. "120 over 80. Perfect blood pressure."
"Wait, what do ya mean publish mah case?" Rogue questioned, the ire coming back into her voice, rapidly replacing the nervousness that had so recently dwelled within her.
"I have no desire to anger you, my dear," Henry stated quickly but calmly. "However, you must understand that yours is the first documented case of mutant powers being affected by a cancerous growth. I don't mean to speak in such grandiose terms so quickly; however, you have made history, Rogue, and not just for mutants. The entire medical community could benefit from this new information."
"Wow…ya know, when ya put it thaht way, ya don't give a meh much of a choiace."
"Of course the choice is ultimately up to you Rogue. I wouldn't want you thinking otherwise. It is your private medical history, and I would not write a single word without your permission." Henry could tell his explanation had worked; Rogue was appeased. Her features reverted back to their normal countenance, and the Medical bay again fell under a gentle calm, the only sounds being Hank's humming and the constant whirring of the ancient desktop computer that held within it the medical files of virtually every resident of the Xavier institute.
The remainder of Rogue's stay in the medical bay was uneventful, with all of her vital signs well within healthy range. She left Hank with his private stash of Twinkies and a game of Minesweeper as she wandered off towards her room, nothing left on her itinerary except homework and personal reflection.
"House, you've finally managed to crack a case without involving the ethics board or a circuit court judge. I'm not sure why you want to push this now." Wilson sat with House in the hospital cafeteria, the lunch rush beginning even at the relatively early morning hour of eleven-thirty. The sun shone through the high rectangular windows that lay within the oak walls, rays of gold light bouncing off imperfections in the grey-green linoleum.
"One of my employees refused to do my bidding." Stated House through a mouthful of half-chewed sauerkraut and corned beef. "It sets a bad example for all my other pawns."
"Do I dare ask what sort of twisted logic is behind the rationale?" House gave Wilson a look that clearly questioned the oncologist's sanity before answering.
"If I let this go, any of them will think its ok to ignore my requests. I need them to do their work."
"House, you have employees who frequently break into patient's homes. I'm fairly positive that you have all the control you need over them." House took another bite of his Reuben before snatching a few French fries from Wilson's plate.
"And I want to keep that control." Stated House, again with a mouth full of food. His slouched posture, resting his weight on his right elbow, while his head sank below his broad shoulders clothed in a wrinkled sport coat over a black band t-shirt, stood in sharp contrast to Wilson's perfect posture, clothing himself in a proper lab jacket and a silk tie with regimental stripes.
"Ok, then what's your great plan House? Keep in mind, however, that this hospital is not a dictatorship."
"You obviously haven't seen Cuddy when I miss clinic hours. Eat quickly, we've got an appointment."
"The only appointment you have today is your clinic hours, which started forty-five minutes ago." The voice of authority boomed behind House.
"Jimmy, is she wearing a leather corset and holding a whip?" House leaned and questioned Wilson in a mock whisper.
"Uh, no." Answered Wilson as he quickly shot an apologetic look towards Cuddy. House grimaced before finally turning to face his boss.
"Didn't you get my memo? Tuesdays are leather day, Wednesdays are schoolgirl day, and Thursdays are-"
"Don't finish that sentence if you value your paycheck, House. I have more pressing issues than tracking you down every day, so get to the clinic. You're in luck, there's a man in with a swollen tongue. That should entertain you for a few hours."
"Alright kid, how much'd Chuck tell ya?" Within the gymnasium annex, the floor covered in standard-issue blue vinyl mats, Logan stood in front of Rogue, both dressed down for the occasion.
"All Ah realla know is that I'm trainin' with ya until Ah'm told othawaise." Stated Rogue with a hint of bitterness in her voice as she crossed her arms across her chest. Despite the extreme age difference between her and Logan, she stood several inches taller than him, although the height difference was not immediately noticeable due to Rogue's tendency to slouch.
"Well, don't sound so overjoyed, stripes."
"Look, Ah fanally got what Ah've been workin towards since Ah found out Ah was a mutant. Ah'm taired of bein treated with the kid gloves." Rogue paused, thinking over her statement. "And Ah didn't mean that as a pun." Logan grinned.
"You don't exactly strike me as the type to make puns, kid. Look, I know yer tired of this, Chuck knows, and so does Hank. That's why yer in here. We wanna make sure this control is permanent. Soon as we know this thing really is permanent, you go back to the Danger Room."
"Wait…that's it? A few sessions here and Ah'm out?"
"Yea. What'd Hank and Chuck tell ya?"
"The way they put it, it sounded laike Ah was some sort of experiment."
"Nah, kid. It ain't anything like that. Chuck and I both know how long you've been wantin this. All we're doin is making sure you're one hundred percent."
"What about Hank?" Rogue asked, but it was clear that her mood had already improved dramatically. Logan made a dismissive noise.
"Hank ain't anything to worry about. Sure, he's caught in all that science crap, but he wants ya to be safe all the same. Look, stripes, I ain't much fer speeches and you ain't much for bullshit, so I'm gonna make this short. I was damn worried about ya when you were lyin' in that hospital bed. I blamed Cyke, blamed the Cajun, and blamed myself. So you ain't goin back into the field until I'm damn sure yer alright. You don't like it, tough." Rogue stood in front of Logan for several seconds before hugging the burly man.
"Thanks, Logan." Logan stared at the pale woman for several seconds, regarding her act with a curious eye, judging her as if to see how to respond to this invasion of personal space. Logan was one who usually solved his problems with his claws rather than his words. This was extremely beneficial on the battlefield and his numerous victories were all the testament necessary to that fact. However, it left him with some lacking abilities when dealing with the students of the manor. He had adjusted quite admirably according to many of the mansion's older residents, even going so far as to look upon Kitty and Rogue like they were his own daughters. The hug, however, continued to elude him. He patted her on the back a few times before releasing himself from her grasp.
"Hey, don't start going all soft on me, kid. Come on, let's get to practicin'."
Two hours later, Rogue was collapsed onto a worn wooden bench; some spots scraped of the varnish that once prevented splinters while other were chipped away from boredom, accidents, or a combination of the two. Her head lightly collided with the mirrored wall behind her, leaning her upper body at a forty-five degree, but the pain, if any, did not register. She grabbed a white towel near her thigh with all the animation of a sore zombie and dropped the terrycloth material on her face to absorb the sweat pouring in rivulets from her forehead. The soaked feeling brought up edgy emotions in her, the sweat reminding her of her disease so near in the past.
"Come on kid, A couple a weeks in the hospital and you've gone soft on me."
"Mahp mur mspdt mi be gmin esy mun me." Came the reply, muffled through the folded layers of the gym towel. Rogue grasped the towel lightly with a single hand, not removing it so much as letting the towel fall along with her hand, revealing a worn out expression. "Ah thaught ya were sapposed ti bea goin easy on meh." Rogue repeated.
"That was easy. Tomorrow we're gonna see how that mutation of yours is working." Logan stalked out of the gymnasium, Rogue sitting up and glaring at his retreating form.
"Cruel and unusual punishment was outlawed, ya know!" She then allowed her form to sink back against the cool glass of the mirror. Ah'll go up in a few minutes…She thought as her heavy eyelids swooped shut.
Rogue awoke with a sudden start. How long was Ah asleep? She wondered as she moved her head from right to left quickly, scanning the gym for any inhabitants. Determining that the room was devoid of any life other than her own, she stretched her muscles, sore from reclining in the uncomfortable position for so long, before languidly rising to her feet and hurrying out of the gym towards the upper levels of the mansion and her own room. Her rubber soled sneakers made slight squeaking noises on the slip-proof metal that made up the floor of the lower levels. The clock hung outside the gymnasium told the time of near six-thirty P.M., almost dinner in the Xavier manor, but Rogue only felt an appetite for a long rest, the nap she took only serving to exhaust her further. She climbed into the sterile stainless steel that constructed the elevator and pushed the number of her room, the Greek numeral backlit with a sickly florescent yellow-orange as the elevator began to hum as it rose high into the atmosphere. The cables moved fluidly and the doors opened to the dorm levels within less than a minute. She stepped out onto the fine threaded rug that ran the length of the hallway with her eyes affixed firmly on the ground, which caused her to jump back as soon as she saw the sudden appearance of her roommate's form.
"Kitty! Don't startle meh laike that!" Kitty merely rolled her eyes in response, a frequent response from the young girl.
"Rogue, I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Well, ya obviously didn't look fohr meh in tha Gym, cause Ah fell asleep there afta Logan's workout." Kitty grimaced at the last of Rogue's sentence.
"Like, I can't exactly blame you for that. Come on, like, dinner's almost ready." Rogue's shoulders slumped.
"Kitty, Ah can bairly stand uhp. Just tell tha Professa thaht Ah'm asleep."
"Well-"
"Kitty!" Rogue snapped, louder and with more force than she intended. Kitty's blue eyes widened at her friend's sudden, angry outburst. The Southern took a deep breath before continuing. "Sorra. Look, Ah realla just need some sleep. The last few weeks took mohre outta meh than Ah thought. All Ah wanna do is lay down fohr a couple a daiys. Alraight?" There were a great many things Kitty wanted to mention to Rogue at that moment. However, she had been acquainted with Rogue long enough to know that no word could better describe her than stubborn. Once Rogue got an idea into her head, very few things could prevent her from realizing that idea. So, anything that Kitty should have told Rogue got tucked into the rear of her own grey matter. She allowed her usual bubbly manner to resurface to overtake her countenance.
"Like, alright. Do you want me to bring you up anything to eat?"
"Sure, if ya feel laike it." Rogue mumbled as she stumbled away with the gait of an ancient wino. Kitty stared at her friend's uneasy form for several seconds before quickly moving towards the elevator.
Like, if he wants to see her so bad, I guess he'll see her. Kitty thought. Hope he knows what he's getting into.
"Gawd, Finallaly!" Rogue exclaimed to no one in particular as she reached the door to her room, a journey of less than twenty-five feet from where she met Kitty, yet it felt to Rogue like a journey through an abysmal desert. She threw open the fine cherry door to her room and stepped inside, her bed a shining oasis. She flopped down as though tossed from a great height, savoring the rich comfort of her cotton bedding. She rubbed a bare hand up and down the soft fabric of the goose-down comforter, closing her eyes and surrendering her being to the mythical sandman…
"Cherie, yi don' know what I'd give ti be dat comforter right now." Came a voice through the darkness that could only belong to one person Rogue with whom Rogue was acquainted. Despite her knowledge of the man behind the voice, its sudden appearance startled Rogue for the second time within fifteen minutes enough to send her careening off her bed and onto the floor in an unceremonious heap of limbs. "Dieu! Yi OK, chere?" Rogue would swear later that steam was coming out of her ears as she lay in the dark, sprawled out on the shag carpeting she and Kitty had purchased months ago, one of the few joint decorating decisions ever to be made concerning their living quarters.
"Do Ah look OK ta you!? Ah fell on tha floor, damnnit!" She heard soft footsteps as Gambit rushed to help her to her feet.
"Dat didn't hurt too bad, did it?" As soon as the words escaped his lips, Remy regretted them, even more so when Rogue let loose with her retaliation, landing a crushing kick to Remy shin, regrettably unguarded by the armor that constructed his field costume.
"Merde!"
"It feilt kinda laike thaht, case ya were wonderin." Rogue grumbled as she writhed in dull pain on the floor. Remy stumbled backward from Rogue's punt, landing on Kitty's bed and grasping his shin in pain.
"Was dat really necessary?" Rogue's eyes widened at this question.
"Necessary? Is it necessary fohr Logan ta push meh fohr ova two hours and callit carin? Is it necessary fohr Hank ta wanna publish every sick thang that happened ta me? And lastly, is it necessary fohr ya ta lurk in mah room like a damned stalker!?" Rogue could feel frustration and hopelessness rising in her throat like bile, the acidic sting eerily similar. She began to pound her fist onto the floor in an effort to prevent tears from rising up. "All Ah wanna do is lay in bed and naht get up fher a month. Wha is that so much ta ask around hehre?"
"Dat ain't so much ti ask dere, Cherie." Said Remy in the calmest voice he could muster, feeling both incredible pain in his leg and incredible guilt over seeing the object of his affections worn to the bone form stress and exhaustion. "Look, 'm sorry bout scarin yi like dat. Yi know I didn't mean yi no harm, oui?"
"Fahne." Came Rogue's weak, muffled reply.
"Bon. 'm jus gonna get yi ti sleep and see miself out." Remy roughly got to his feet, straining himself as so to show no signs of pain. Rogue tensed up momentarily when she felt Remy pick her up, but relaxed when she realized he had picked her up by the middle of her back and the back of her knees, both hands far removed from any areas of concern. He gently laid her out on the mussed sheets, still unmade from her awakening several hours before. She roughly crawled beneath the wrinkled sheets and slumped her head onto her pillow, feeling herself drift off into sleep.
"Sleep tight, Rogue. 'm still holdin yi ti dat dinner." Remy whispered into her ear, but Rogue was already deep in her slumber. Utilizing the years of thief's training under his belt, Remy crept out the room, favoring the lower portion of his injured leg.
Taking care to move swiftly but silently down the cavernous hallways running throughout the upper levels of his residence as he made his way back to the room he shared with Piotr Rasputin, one of the only residents with whom he ever spent any leisure time. Even then, their friendship was due not to a plethora of shared interests but instead their shared experience serving under Magneto. They had both dreaded the wraith of the elder mutant, for different reasons, however, that dread had forged a bond between the two. Remy's dread at the moment, was not his former mentor, but instead Logan, who Remy was positive was still hunting him down. Poking his head out for a fleeting recon before ducking back behind the corner, he saw that the hallway leading down towards his room was clear, deserted.
Dis it. Jus run down de hall, unlock ya door, and yi're free and clear…
"Now, how about that. Just the Cajun I've been lookin for." Remy felt the rough paw of a human hand land with a forceful thud on his shoulder from behind him, the low growl that came along with it belonging to the one person Remy had been working the entire day to avoid. He turned to face his accuser slowly, working to keep the fear from bubbling over in his shaking voice as he stood to make eye contact with the diminutive yet formidable Canadian.
"Now-now den, Remy been lookin-n everywhere fo yi-"
"Shut it, Gumbo," snarled Logan, taking a large swing from the beer in his hand. "I wasn't born last night, so don't try to feed me any crap, got it?" Remy merely nodded, too dumbstruck to make any semblance of a vocal response. Logan turned his lips into a distorted sneer and twisted his head to the side, as though working a disgusting taste out of his mouth.
"Look, Monsieur Howlett, 'm-"
"Didn't I tell ya ta shut it?" Remy's eyes flashed a bright red and he clamped his lips tight. "That's better, Gumbo. Look, Professor filled me in on all the details about Rogue. Said what she has she's had since birth. He also said there was no way you coulda done that to her. Christ, I can't believe I'm actually gong to say this, but…" Logan let a deep groan. "Sorry about accusing you a poisonin the kid. I guess I got a little scared when I heard that the tumor wasn't the reason she was so sick, then I got angry and, well, you know the rest. Anyway, didn't mean anything against ya." Remy let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in at the end of Logan's monologue. He spoke quickly, still wanting to get away from Logan as quickly as he was able.
"Pology accepted, mon ami. Now, Remy's just gonna retire ti de comfot o his room fo de night, so he jus be getting outta yi hair." Remy made a quick spin to leave, but his movement was again impeded by Logan's muscular hand. Turning to face his elder again, he was greeted with a maniacal grin painted across Logan's features. Logan pulled his hand back from the worn material of Remy's t-shirt to pull a cigar from the breast pocket of his own faded plaid western shirt. Logan flipped open his silver Zippo and sparked the brown tube to life before speaking again.
"Now, that issue's settled, but we still got the problem of you missin' a Danger Room session with me," Logan blew a large cloud of thick smoke from the opposite side of his mouth. "Course, I got a solution for that too."
Remy could not recall a time before in his life that someone so small had made him quake with so much fear.
Two months had passed since Rogue's disease and subsequent treatment, and the mansion's population had settled back into their familiar roles. The kid gloves everyone had treated Rogue with upon her return had been cast off, and she had reentered regular Danger Room sessions, ending her private tutelage under Logan. Her mutation worked the same as before, only now she could decide when to drain someone and when not to. Her wardrobe was changing in small increments, the long years of covering herself from neck to toe forming a habit that was tough to break.
Clothing was certainly a subject at the forefront of Rogue's consciousness, whether she wanted it to be or not. Her roommate, Kitty, was currently storming through Rogue's closet with all the careful precision of a runaway bulldozer with no brakes being piloted by a drunken heroin addict. Kitty had taken it upon herself to select a proper outfit for Rogue's imminent date, an event that found Kitty more excited about the event than Rogue herself. Kitty made a low noise of disapproval before tossing another article of Rogue's over her shoulder onto the floor below.
"Rogue, don't you, like, own anything that can be worn on a date?"
"Noht accordin tah you, obviously." Rogue said, no attempt made to hide the dejection in her southern drawl. Rogue sat on the side of her bed facing Kitty, her chin cradled in her palm. Rogue had finally broken down the before, finally agreeing to own up to her promise of a date with Remy. He had been overjoyed, although at the moment Rogue was unable to clearly discern who was more excited about her saying yes, Remy or Kitty.
Tha onlay one who ain't ovajoyed is meh. Rogue thought, however her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a pair of black and red bondage pants landing directly on top of her short brown and white hair.
"Dang it Kitty! Watch where yah're throwin mah clothin!" Rogue shouted, yanking the pants off of her head and throwing them to the ground in a fit of rage. Kitty turned around, her features a convoluted mix of sheepishness and apology.
"Sorry Rogue. Did I, like, hit you?"
"Ah think yah know tha answer tah thaht."
"Like, I totally didn't mean that. Look, I'm just, like, trying to find something for you to wear tonight. Come on, Rogue, this is, like, your big night!"
"Ah know, Ah know. Yah've said thaht ahbout ten tahmes tahday." Rogue collapsed onto her black cotton comforter, throwing her left forearm over eyes. "Wha'd Ah even tell him Ah'd go ohn this stupid date, anywahy? Ah must have been ohn something those doctohrs gave meh."
"Rogue, don't be such a drama queen," said Kitty with a roll of her blue eyes. "Come on, Remy's nuts about you, and, like, I know you feel the same way. Come on, like, this is only, like, one date. I also know for, like, a fact that you wouldn't have agreed to this date if you didn't want to go on it." Rogue moved her arm just enough to make eye contact with her roommate.
"Whaht exactly do yah mean by thaht?"
"Come on, ever since he and Piotr arrived, Remy's been flirting with you. All of a sudden, you go from dodging him every time he walks into a room to agreeing to a date. You want him, Rogue. Bad." Rogue wanted to do nothing more than punch that self-satisfied smirk off Kitty's lips, but she didn't. Instead, Rogue lay there, staring at her roommate, knowing that in some small way, Kitty was right. Rogue, however, would never admit it to her.
"Kitty, Ah hope yah ain't planin a careeh in psychology, cause it ain't happenin."
"Like, you're just mad because I'm right. Hey, here's something," Rogue clamped her eyes shut, dreading to see what horrid thing Kitty had dredged from the murky depths of the closet. When she finally laid her eyes upon the article of clothing her roommate held up like a trophy, Rogue was astonished. A silk and satin evening gown, it was a dark burgundy, a sartorial anomaly where Rogue was concerned, as the majority of her outfits were black and green, the teenage Goths favorite colors. "Like, when did you pick this up?"
"Ah picked it up a few yeahs bahck, fohr one of tha dances. It's just kinda been hangin in thahre eva since." Kitty stared at her roommate with wanton disbelief in her crystal blue eyes.
"Rogue, this dress is totally gorgeous! You're telling me you just let this thing go to waste?"
"When did ya think Ah was gonna whear thaht thang?"
"Tonight." Kitty answered coolly. Rogue grimaced as she ran a bare hand down the length of the blood-red material, the silk cool to the touch. Kitty was right, Rogue thought, this was a beautiful dress. It had also cost her a small fortune, and it seemed a shame to spend that much on something if she wasn't going to use it.
"Well? Are you going to wear this or not?"
"Yeah, wha noht? Ah mean, Ah guess it is a shame tah let this go tah wahste." Kitty's eyes lit up like Christmas and she grew a Cheshire cat grin.
"Great", exclaimed Kitty as she laid the dress on Rogue's bed. "Now we need to find the perfect lipstick and eye shadow to go with it!"
"Is thaht entiahrly necessary? Ah mean, Ah think Ah cahn hahndle puttion on a little makeup..." Said Rogue uneasily, beginning to regret asking her friend to help her.
Remy lightly charged the remnants of his cigarette and flicked it into the evening sky, the useless filter exploding several feet above the lawn. It had been his sixth in the past hour, a high number even for him. As he lit another cigarette, Remy focused on what had led to this moment. The Cajun man was feeling increasingly nervous about the night's plans, a feeling that Logan had done nothing to help. The surly Canadian had taken it upon himself to give Remy a three hour pep-talk that boiled down to various threats of castration should he touch Rogue inappropriately.
Firs, de man traps me in a van fo fo ours an talks bout his feelins, den dis. Wonda if dat man is eva gonna trus me. Remy paced back and forth on the front step, losing himself in his thoughts and rhetorical questions, the fast-paced voice of Kitty Pryde shocking him out his thoughts.
"Remy! Like, put that thing out! Rogue's ready to go and you smell like nicotine!"
"Sorry petite. I smoke mo when 'm nervous." Kitty made an unintelligible grunt that Remy interpreted to mean frustration.
"Like, I get that you're nervous, but couldn't you just, like, chew your lip or something? Something that doesn't reek?" Remy flicked the half-smoked cigarette over the railing, again infusing it with a small kinetic charge.
"I like de smell o dem." Remy muttered as he followed the young brunette through the tall cherry wood doors that made up the main entrance of the institute. Remy darted his eyes from right to left, using his lifetime of training as a thief to assess the room within seconds. "Where's Rogue? I th'ought you said she was ready."
"She's waiting upstairs. She wants to make a grand entrance. Now, like, stay right here." Kitty walked backwards with her hands outstretched for several feet before bounding up the grand staircase, taking them two at a time. She checked again, making sure Remy hadn't snuck up behind her. She spied him in the foyer, still in the same place she left him. Good, the petite brunette thought as she turned to her friend.
"Ok, Rogue, are you ready for the big entrance?"
"These shoes ahre killin mah feet. Cahn't Ah just whear tha sahme boots Ah always do?" When Rogue's green eyes met with the narrowed stare and cocked eyebrow that was Kitty's face, combined with the arms folded squarely across her chest, Rogue guessed that her answer was no. Rogue sighed loudly, letting Kitty know just how much she despised what she was wearing. Taking another deep breath and taking slow, steady steps with the foreign footwear as she grasped the banister with a pale, ungloved hand, Rogue prayed to every religious deity she could imagine that she would make it down the stairs unharmed. The heels on the shoes were pencil-thin, much thinner than what she was used to, and she felt a sense of accomplishment every time she landed her feet squarely on the thin carpeting covering each step of the staircase. When her left foot finally landed on the carpeting covering the ground floor, she let out a cool breath of relief , then looked up to meet the eyes of her date. If Rogue hadn't been nervous to the point of psychosis at that point in time, she would have laughed out loud. She had been so nervous about tripping down the staircase, and the whole time Remy was standing stock-still in the middle of the foyer, mouth agape and chin nearly hitting the ground.
"Ya mahight want ta close yahr mouth, Cajun, unless yahr tryin ta catch flies." Rogue states, hoping the comment sounds as offhand as she intended. Remy appeared not to notice, the sound of a voice enough to snap him out of his daydream. He shook his head from side to side quickly, clearing out the cobwebs from his thoughts.
"Yi look beau, chere. Absolutely…beau…" Remy trailed off, his verbal skills obviously impaired by the sight before him. Rogue was almost livid. She couldn't believe that Remy Lebeau, the notorious flirt himself, had been so easily silenced. She had little time to dwell on this fact, however, as Kitty was soon behind Rogue, hurrying her and Remy out the door, similar to a mother eager to get her children outside on a beautiful summer day.
Scott's familiar convertible waited out front in the rotary. Remy had driven it before, but this was the first time he had asked permission of the owner beforehand. Remy loved his motorcycle, he did, but there were some things that required the luxury of a car, and your dat wearing a dress was one of those things. He held the door open for Rogue before jumping around to the driver's side and gunning the engine. Before he drove off, however, Kitty leaned to talk to Rogue.
"Hey, I hope you have a, like, good time tonight." No insistances of long harbored crushes now, just a wish for good luck.
"Ah think Ah will, Kitty. Thanks fohr everything yah've done." Kitty smiled sheepishly.
"Yea, like, about that. I need a small favor from you."
"What do yah neehd, Kitty?" asked Rogue, willing to help out her friend but wary of what the request would be.
"Like, nothing big. I just need you to come clothing shopping with me at the mall," Kitty whispered to her friend, knowing full well one of Rogue's biggest pet peeves was going clothing shopping. Before Rogue could react, Kitty yelled, "Ok guys, have a great time!" It would take Rogue a full hour before she stopped scowling at Kitty's stunt.
"Ah haven't heard of this restaurant before. What's it cahlled again?" The trip from Bayville to Manhattan had taken three hours, most of which Remy had spent on the phone with Piotr getting directions to the restaurant. After they had finally arrived at the restaurant, it took another twenty minutes to find a suitable parking garage, one that was run by someone who didn't have the appearance and posture of a serial rapist.
"De name's Dorsia. Trust me, de food ain't bad here." Remy had calmed down entirely once they had hit New York City.
They walked through the doors of the restaurant not five minutes before their reservation, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the Maitre D, who descended upon Remy like a hawk upon its prey.
"Monsieur Lebeau, you are early. A rare occurrence, if you do not mind me saying so."
"Not at all, mon ami. Yi got mi table ready?"
"As always, Monsieur. Come, I shall seat you immediately." The Maitre D grasped two menus and led the couple into the dining area of the restaurant, populated mostly by Wall Street power players wearing double-breasted suits and wingtips. Their table was off to one side, an equal distance from the bar, the front door, and the bathrooms. The Maitre D pulled their chairs out for the both of them, then made his way back to the front of the restaurant after reminding them that their waiter would be out momentarily. Remy fiddled with the bow tie of his tuxedo, making sure the knot was straight.
"Monsieur? Thaht guhy certainly seemed tah lahke you."
"Well, Remy did de man a few favors. In return, He makes sure I got an open table wheneva I need it."
After drinks were on the table and entrees were ordered, conversation started. Or, at least, that was what one would have expected. Instead, Remy fidgeted nervously in his seat while Rogue studied the candle on the table and tried to figure out if the woman two tables down from them was Paris Hilton or just drunk.
"So…Um…Remy…"
"Oui?"
"Nevamahnd. It's…it's nothing."
"Now, Chere, What's on yo mind?" Remy was craving, absolutely dying, for a cigarette, but he didn't light one. He had waited too long for this date to spend it running outside every five minutes. Of course, the lack of nicotine meant he was tapping his foot incessantly.
"Why…What's your favorite color?" Rogue asked quickly.
"Mi favorite color's red, but I don't t'ink dat's what yi were gonna ask."
"Of course it was. Whay'd ya think Ah'd wanna ahsk anything else?" Remy arched an eyebrow, but he let the subject drop.
"No reason, I guess. So what's yo favorite movie?"
The conversation started out slow and awkward, but soon they were developing a repartee, finding common interests they had no idea they shared. Remy was in the middle of a particularly amusing anecdote involving himself and St. John Allerdyce when the food arrived, broiled rainbow trout with lemon dill sauce and grilled snap peas for Remy, while Rogue ordered the pan seared pork with mango chutney and mashed red potatoes. Rogue stared at her plate, at the beautifully cooked and arranged food, and all of a sudden, she felt a question long buried rising in her throat. She was powerless to stop the words from escaping her lips.
"Wha did ya join Magneto?" Remy paused, his fork and knife frozen mid-slice.
"I figured dat yi'd ask dat sooner o later," Remy said after a long silence. Rogue grimaced, not sure what was coming next. Was he going to storm out of the restaurant, or would he blow off her question altogether? Her fears were dashed, however, when he spoke again, calm and collected, as though giving street directions. " Mags was down in N'awlins right quick de minute he found out bout mi," he paused, glancing around the restaurant. "Powers. Guess he saw a whole lot o use out o someone dat could blow up whateva he touched. Anyway, yi got ti undastand dat while I love mi home, de t'ieves guild ain't de easiest t'ing ti get out of. Aniway, when Magneto came down an started spoutin off bout mutant superiority, I swallowed de whole t'ing, hook, line, an sinker. Sounded good, bein part o de future, bein part o de rulin class," Another pause. "Neva said Remy was de smartest teenaga in de bayou, o aniwhere else fo dat matta." He folded his hands under his chin, his head hovering above his still-uneaten food. His face held no expression, favorable or not.
"So thaht was it? Ya just joihned uhp with this guhy cause ya laiked what heh saihd?" Rogue had a hard time swallowing the belief that a trained thief would take such a bold step based solely on a whim. Hell, she thought, even when he kidnapped meh he had tha whole thang planned out. Remy just smirked at her question, the same smug smirk he possessed during most of his waking hours.
"Guess I can't get anyt'ing past yi, Rogue. Wasn't lying when I said dat I liked what he was sellin', but it helped dat he had something extra."
"Which was?"
"A list o every major job I evi pulled since I hit puberty. He had something on every one o us wit de exception o Sabretooth. Hell, even Wyngarde didn't want ti work wit Magneto, but Mags found dirt on him, too." This time, though he tried to hide it, it was obvious the last bit of disclosure had made Remy highly uncomfortable.
"Oh." Rogue said, mostly to break the silence.
"Don't regret de decision fo a minute. Hell, I regret some o de t'ings I did durin mi time wit him, but not de decision."
"Wha noht?"
"I'd like ti t'ink de whole ordeal made me a bit smarter. Hopefully made me a little less impulsive."
"Whaht do ya call stealin Scott's car tah drahve all tha way ta Jersey?"
"Makin' sure mi Rogue gets de best medical treatment possible. Yi should start eatin. De food ain't worth a damn cold," Remy took a large bite out of his trout as Rouge began to dig into her potato. "So, if yi don't mind me askin', Wha'd yi leave de Brotherhood?" Rogue narrowed her eyes to tiny slits, glaring daggers at her date. He took on a quizzical expression. "I told ya bout mi time workin' fo de opposite team." Rogue's glare grew more intense at this comment.
"Yah've got a poihnt thehre, but Ah don't want this getting around tha mansion."
"Chere, mi lips are sealed. Anyt'ing ya say stays at dis table." Rogue gave a small smile at that comment.
"It was Mystique. Everything sheh told meh was a damn lie. She tried tah kill Scott, almost killed meh in tha process, and nearhly left tha both av us ta dihe on a mountain."
"Guess dat'd send most anyone ti de other side."
"Well, it…it wasn't all thaht. Logan helped a lot. Whaht heh said afta they rescued tha both a us…Ah realized that they were probably the betta team."
"De homicidal man dat uses me as a punchin bag, dat Logan?"
"Heh's noht homicidal, heh's just…guarded. Heh takes a while tah warm up tah new people. New people heh's fought, anaway."
"So how long befo he warms up ti Remy?" It was Rogue's turn to wear a smug smirk.
"Ah dohn't know…mahbe fahve years?"
Back at the institute, Remy walked Rogue back to her room, his arm wrapped almost possessively around Rogue's waist the entire time.
"So, guess dis is goodnight."
"Yea…Thanks fohr tha dinna, Remy. Tha food was fantastic and Ah had a realla wondaful tahme."
"De pleasura was all mine, chere. I just hope yi'll do dis again." Rogue smiled, not a smirk or a placating grin, but a genuine, warm smile.
"Ah'd laike thaht," However, when Remy leaned in to kiss her, she shrunk away. "Uh, Remy…"
"What's de matta?"
"Look, Ah…Ah've been able tas touch fohr a few months now. Ah had a great tahme, Ah just…Ah'd laike mah first kiss tah beh special. Ya know?"
"Dat ain't a problem. Yi take as long as yi need."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it, Rogue. Bon nuit, chere." Remy turned to walk away towards his own room when Rogue called out to him again.
"Hey, Remy?" Remy turned to answer, but before he could open his mouth to answer, Rogue grasped him by the side and kissed him. Not a deep, pornographic kiss, but instead a simple kiss, one befitting a first date. She released her hold within a minute, but Remy stood still as stone, unable to move or speak from surprise.
"Naight Remy. " Sang Rogue in a light but seductive voice as she turned the doorknob to her room, leaving a stunned and confused but happy Cajun outside her door. Ah bet he doesn't move fohrat leahst an hour. Rogue thought, amused. Amused, at least until she walked right into the face of her roommate, whose form resembled that of a lithe, blue-eyed jack-o-lantern, a grin stretching from ear to ear.
"I want every detail. Now." Gawd, mahbe Ah should a stayed out there with him.
Author's Note: I am a bastard. I wanted this thing up months ago, but then real life came by and informed me that I had signed up for all writing-intensive classes last semester. Enough of my excuses, however, because it is finally here; the epilogue I promised everyone. I hope that everyone here approves of Remy and Rogue's date. I would like to extend, again, an incredibly generous thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. Your words and expectations were what kept me thinking about this, and what gave me the drive to finish this. My class load this semester is nothing like last year, and hopefully that means I'll be able to be a little more active on this site than I have been. I hope everyone enjoys this final chapter to the story. Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. I cannot thank you enough for your input and your encouraging words, and I cannot apologize enough for delaying this as long as I did. Please, enjoy this story. Also, the title of this story comes from a band called Eagles of Death Metal. They're great, check them out.