Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men: Evolution

You

by: oceanbang

Summary: Sometimes, two lives intertwine and lose their ability to exist as separate entities. An untouched girl, needing to be loved. A jaded Cajun, only following orders. Their story begins in the rain. Takes place AU, Season 2.

Chapter Two: The Queen's Knight

"The air I breathe is of you

Feelings touch a region new

My heart resounds like a drum ancient

What I need, I need to be patient"

Trust is as fragile as glass. It must be handled very carefully. And if it breaks, it doesn't just break. It shatters into a million little pieces. And if you try to rebuild it too quickly, you'll surely hurt yourself on the jagged shards.

I didn't trust Remy. When we finally stopped at a gas station amid the wilderness on the side of the highway, I removed both the helmet and my gloves. But Remy was already off the bike and putting distance between us, as if he knew what I was planning. He wouldn't face me though. He stared into the wilderness, looking for answers to questions I did not know.

"Tell me, Rogue, y' like t' play chess?"

I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew my name. Not that it mattered. This was obviously all planned. We were alone in the parking lot. We had left behind the rain miles ago. Our only company now was the trees.

"Not really. Why?" I slid off the bike, failing to mask the crunch of gravel beneath my boots. I took a few steps towards Remy, moving at a gingerly pace.

"Y' ever t'ink 'bout how each pawn has a story? Everybody knows the king is important and the queen is powerful. But the pawns, no one wonders 'bout them. They just do what they told, dying on the front lines in the name of strategy."

Getting closer. "Sure, that makes sense. Pawns are expendable, Ah guess. That's why there are so many of 'em. They ain't so important." I tensed my legs, preparing to lunge. It was time for some answers.

"Everyt'ing must serve a purpose, non? Some people choose t' be pawns. Can't t'ink for themselves. But, you, Rogue –"

I never stood a chance.

He spun and caught my wrists, cat-like. Our faces drew close. I couldn't speak with those eerie eyes piercing my soul from mere inches away. His musky scent filled my nostrils. As if liquefied, the muscles in my legs gave out until I was being held like a puppet. "You're the queen, Rogue. Y' just don't know it yet."

With a dark chuckle, he shoved me backwards, and my weak legs gave out. I fell back into the gravel, abrading the soft, untouched skin of my hands. "And I'm the knight, bein' treated as a pawn. Biding my time, s'all."

I stared up at him, rubbing my hands. "Take your metaphorical nonsense and shove it. Ah'm done with this game."

I eyed my backpack, which I'd left on the bike seat. Remy outstretched his arms. "Make your move, queen."

Damn boots slowed me down, but I still made it to the backpack before Remy was on top of me. I clung to it as he tackled me to the ground, his hard body digging into my soft flesh. I struggled with the zipper, until the entire bag caught on fire. It lit up like a firework but emitted no heat. Panicked, I let go, and Remy flung it into the air. I watched as my books, makeup, and – most importantly – cell phone exploded in a brilliant flare.

I took that opportunity to do what any girl would do when faced with an oppressive man – I rammed my foot into his crotch.

Direct hit. The air exploded from his lungs and his muscles constricted. A vein bulged in his neck, as he collapsed into the gravel, panting. I swiped at his face with my bare hand, but he rolled to the side and kicked my feet out from under me. On hands and knees, I closed the space between me and the bike. With his throbbing dick, Remy was having trouble pursuing.

I climbed onto the bike, almost too frazzled to work the ignition. Somehow, I managed to start it, but Remy grabbed my leg. Channeling all the self-defense classes Logan had taught me, I nailed Remy in the face with my elbow. He crumpled to the ground.

"Checkmate, asshole."

The bike shot forward suddenly, and I almost crashed into one of the gas pumps. After narrowly avoiding it, I pulled on the helmet and arced the bike across the highway, heading in the direction we'd come from.

Remy had something in his hand, but I quickly refocused on the road. Three seconds later, the side of the helmet imploded with a metallic screech, and I toppled off the bike, never feeling the impact of the asphalt on my body.

(break)

Dreams are intangible but extremely reactive. A mere thought or memory alters the entire landscape. Logic in a dream is poisonous, as the randomness of dreams, the unknown links between the real and the imagined, is its lifeblood.

Even in unconsciousness, there is still some awareness. The mere realization that one is dreaming will sometimes render the dream incomplete. Other times, it heightens the experience.

As Remy's body enfolded upon mine, I knew I was dreaming. Not to mention the fact that his body, beautiful at first glance, had recently caused me harm.

He was speaking in French, tasting the words as he did. It might've been gibberish, but I perceived it as French just as I perceived its meaning, even though I didn't know a lick of the language. He was whispering dirty things, a Cheshire Cat smile on his lips. Then, those lips buried into my neck, moving beneath my jaw, near my throat.

I pushed his trench coat off his broad shoulders. Somehow it fell away, even though his arms were still drawn around me. I found a zipper on his shirt and drew it down from his collar bone to his navel. My hands explored his tanned skin and rippling muscles. His trimmed chest hair tickled my fingertips. His heart beat against my bare palm.

His lips drew across my bare shoulder, and I wondered where my blouse had gone. I placed both my hands on his rough cheeks and angled his face towards mine. I closed my eyes and leaned in, ready to press my lips to a man's for the first time in my life…

"Is this really necessary?"

Blackness. And pain. Heavy, heavy pain. "If she proves to be a good listener and a willing guest, then her accommodations will be improved. Her comfort should not lie within your realm of concern, Mr. LeBeau."

"I suppose. S'cuse me for questioning you."

Each heartbeat found its way into the back of my skull. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"That will be all for now. We will continue when she has regained consciousness."

From somewhere far off, a door closed. Not a small door, either, but one that sounded thick and reinforced.

Sometime later, the pain subsided. But the blackness remained.

(break)

After a second slumber, this time dreamless and cold, I awoke to a tiny orange light above me. I tried to roll away from it, but my muscles refused to move. I groaned, cheek pressed to cold cement. I managed to turn my head, but my skin stuck to the floor for a second. Something wet and sticky on my cheek…

The smell of smoke. The light was an ember, attached to a cigarette. I closed my eyes and tried to curl into the fetal position. My throat was too raw for words to form. My head was a lead weight, unable to be lifted by my slender neck.

The light reappeared in the darkness when I opened my eyes. It drew close to my face, and I could barely make out Remy's nose and jaw. He took a drag from the cigarette and politely blew the smoke away from my face. Then he leaned in closer, tobacco breath filling my nostrils.

"Y' had Remy scared, chérie. My pride an' joy took a nasty hit from y' foot. Surprised me. But everyt'ing is still in one piece. Wanna feel?"

He picked up my hand, which had been covered again with my gloves. My stomach clenched in revulsion. Thankfully, instead of sticking my hand down his pants, he kissed it. "Y' don't take no shit. Remy likes that in a woman."

And then he was gone, leaving me adrift in the sea of darkness. With nothing else to do, my thoughts soon came back to the dream. The kisses exploring my neck. His toned chest with the pounding heartbeats. The impossibility of skin against skin. I thought about his skin the most. Tanned, taut with muscle, and just a bit of hair to prickle my fingers. Skin that was most sensual. Skin I could never touch.

Despite everything, I smiled – and hated myself for it.