Stories by Kielle
"Le Coquin Malchanceux"
Poetry. Kielle maintains this is her only contribution to the "Gambit-is-a-love-god"
Rogue tries to help "Skids" Blevins as she deals with Rusty Collins' death (in
X-Men #43), with questionable success. (Warning: Some strong language, hints
at mature themes)
Jean, Iceman and Rogue gather to do a MiSTing of one of those oh-so-annoying
"get rich quick" e-mail spams.
"The Persistence of Memory"
Rogue agonizes over the aftermath of her last battle with the X-Men. Takes place a few years after the movie.
On April Fools Day, Gambit decides to come clean with his feelings about Rogue
Rogue reveals to Gambit a secret of her own. The sequel to "Resolution."
elsewhere in Alykat's World:
Fifth Row Back"
Bobby's exuberantly vocal enthusiasm for 'Star Wars: Episode I' grates on his
fellow moviegoers at the movie's first midnight screening, especially Kai and
Blood in the
Mary Sue Society, Subreality,
The Subreality Warehouse
and The Fan-Fiction
Yellow Ribbon Campaign
If you didn't read "Resolution,"
suffice it to say that it was my April Fool's story for 1997
(wow, was that a whole year ago?!?), and there was a LOT of
begging for a sequel. Well, appropriately, here it is just
in time for April Fool's Day 1998. There's some sexual innuendo
in it but nothing explicit. You can handle it. ;) And for
the millionth time, I don't hate Gambit ... though ever since
#350 I DO officially hate Rogue. However, this story has nothing
to do with my feelings about her, as its plotline and punchline
were brewed far earlier than the abomination which was "the
Trial of Gambit."
Feedback is enjoyed; do not archive without
my permission, just because I like to know where my babies
wind up. Marvel's characters are Marvel's; no harm is meant
and no money is being made. This story is set last year, after
Onslaught but before the aforementioned trial.
And yes, it's very silly. ;)
"I'm not sure I see the point of this ... prank. In
fact, I'm quite positive that I don't like it."
"What's not t'like, mon frere? I don't bite." Remy
grinned charmingly around his drooping cigarette, which was
unlit to avoid triggering Hank's own April Fools' "gift."
Master thief or no, the Cajun wasn't one hundred percent certain
that he'd found and disarmed every single outlet of the new
hair-trigger Super-Drench-O-Matic-4000 Smoke-Alerted Fire-Extinguishing
System which had been installed in every single ceiling (and
more than a few walls) over the last week's worth of sneaky
late nights. Everyone had to admit: the prank was a beaut.
Not only had Remy been soaked three times already, he was
feeling distinctly sore over being beaten at the April Fools
<Nair's too good f'r the man,> he thought darkly in
Beast's direction -- wherever he was. With both Logan and
Remy out for his blood, the scientist had prudently retreated
into the the tunnels under the mansion. If Logan hadn't burst
out whooping so hard at Remy's drowned-rat appearance that
he'd fallen over into a stack of shipping crates down in the
hanger bay, he would have sniffed Beast then and there ...
yet now, an hour later, he STILL hadn't collared the culprit.
Hank wasn't THAT good at hiding. Remy suspected conspiracy.
For now, however, he had conspiracies of his own to hatch.
He turned up the charm and wheedled, "C'mon, it not
like I gonna kiss you or anyt'ing. Jus' walk t'rough de front
room wit' me."
"Holding your hand?" Joseph replied dryly. "Look
closely, Remy. This is me NOT leaping at the opportunity."
"Aw, c'mon, have a sense a'humor homme! Scott'll have
a heart attack. It'll be wort' it." In truth, Scott wasn't
the one Remy planned to shock out of his skin. Rather, his
intention was to put the crowning touch on the jape he'd pulled
on Rogue earlier that morning, when he'd cornered her in the
kitchen and confessed his "undying love" for her
other paramour: the currently unwilling-to-play-along-no-matter-what-clever-cover-story-Remy-fed-him
Joseph. In the wake of the "revelation," a VERY
flustered Rogue had vanished in the direction of the dorms
and refused to come down. However, as lunch rolled around,
Remy's impromptu intelligence network (in the form of a HIGHLY
amused Jean Grey-Summers, who'd figured it all out instantly)
reported in: Rogue was back downstairs from her massive sulk
and watching a taped MST3K in the main front room.
Unfortunately, Remy's plan to construct a second story onto
his scheme was rapidly collapsing like a house of cards. Joseph
was amnesiac, true, but he wasn't stupid -- and he wasn't
the prank-pulling type. Especially not in the company of a
certain untrustworthy Cajun. For all he knew, the prank would
twist around to bite HIS ass, and he wasn't about to risk
it. Against Remy's empassioned pleas "for the sake of
the holiday," Joseph calmly gathered up the rumpled morning
paper and his bowl of chips & salsa and retreated in the
direction of the sunny back yard.
Heaving a heavy, mournful sigh, Remy took his time fixing
himself some peanut-butter toast (even red-blooded bona-fide
Cajuns can't eat cayenne pepper for EVERY meal, after all)
and then melodramatically dragged himself in the direction
of the main front room himself. <Ah well. May as well call
it off. Mebbe I can get her riled again all by m'self.>
His eyes brightened and his step quickened at the thought.
<Eh, who needs Amnesia-Boy anyhow? I did just fine dis
mornin' on my own. NO ONE beats Jean-Luc's pride 'n' joy when
it comes t'pullin' legs!>
Even lost in plots as he was, Remy knew something more than
just "watching TV" was up as he stepped through
the living room entry. The TV was turned up fairly loud, just
the way Rogue liked it, but it wasn't loud enough to mask
the giggles and panting moans ...
Remy stopped dead. He took one careful step forward, then
another, just enough to be able to see over the sofa. The
unmistakably passionate sounds which were blithely overriding
Tom & Crow's onscreen quips were coming from the pile
of blankets in front of the television.
And one of the voices was distinctly Rogue's.
Remy was positive that he hadn't made a sound -- yet he must
have, because right then the heap of blankets froze guiltily.
After a moment's hesitation, two extremely tousled heads popped
out: one a curly striped auburn, one a mussed skein of white.
Green eyes and blue regarded their stunned witness with a
mixture of guilt and amusement. It was obvious that neither
... participant was wearing more than what was strictly necessary
to keep Rogue's power in check, meaning sheer spandex and
"Ummm ... Remy ... it's not what it looks like ... honestly,
sugah. Ah was just curious, an' ... "
The Cajun was already backing out of the room, flushing red
to his hairline. "Non, non, I c'n see, dat's okay, I'll
... I'll be upstairs. G'night," he said despite the fact
that it was before noon as he vanished upstairs at about Mach
"Hmph." Still lying more-or-less flat on her stomach
under the rumpled blanket, Rogue plunked her cheek onto her
fist and pouted prettily. "Ah don't see what HE was so
upset about. Ah'm a grown woman, Ah kin make mah own choices
... " The pout slid effortlessly into a wicked grin.
"An' 'sides, anyone who pranks on April Fool's Day should
be a gen'leman 'bout bein' pranked right back. Ain't that
Her "partner" smiled back, leaning comfortably
on one elbow. "What goes around comes around, they say.
Now, I've held to my part in your vengeance; you WILL hold
up your side of this bargain and assume my kitchen duty for
the next three days, correct?"
Rogue managed to look adorably affronted at the intimation
that she might try to wriggle out of the wretched chore of
cleaning up after a dozen-plus sloppy mutants. "Hey,
you kin trust me!"
"I'm not so certain about that ... "
"Ohhhh c'mon, Ororo! If ya cain't trust yoah friends,
who cain ya trust ... ?"
END OF STORY
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