| Characters belong to Marvel. I'm not profiting 
                    by this.In honor of the person who asked: Why does Rogue always dis' 
                    Gambit?
 
 Rogue leaned against the facade hiding the laser canon mounted 
                    on the mansion roof. Sunset was always the best time of the 
                    day. Neither too hot nor too cold. At least down south that 
                    was true. This was New York and the middle of winter. But 
                    she was numb to any drastic changes in temperature unless 
                    she chose to feel them. It had snowed earlier. A brief dusting 
                    that had begun to melt and was now in the process of freezing 
                    again. She slumped further down against the fiberglass panel 
                    and hooked her thumbs in her jean pockets. Brooding was habit she had picked up when she was younger. 
                    Running with Mystique had quite thoroughly eliminated any 
                    opportunities for friendships. Avoiding the FBI and CIA, dodging 
                    the KGB and various other organizations almost became games. 
                    Killing people, blowing things up, stealing this and that. 
                    For a while she'd thought that was perfectly normal. By the 
                    time she realized it wasn't, she'd been indoctrined. Trust 
                    no one, share no information, always suspect the worst. If 
                    someone gives you a hard time, smile and blow their head off. 
                    Mystique had been slick if nothing else. In between all that 
                    a great deal of time had been left over for thought. Currently, as usual, her subject was Remy. Jean had assured 
                    her that it was perfectly normal to have him on the brain 
                    but it still got tiresome on occasion. Noble, chauvanistic, 
                    sexy, dangerous and seedy. Just the type Momma had warned 
                    her of. She snorted. And just the type I grew up around. 
                    She actually understood him better than, say, Scott or Bobby. 
                    It was almost embarassing. 'Roro understood at least. Right 
                    now though, she was speculating on his "big dirty secret". Well whoop-di-do, it's not that hard to figure out. 
                    She had read the mission reports. The way Sinister catered 
                    to him, Remy's constant comments about being guilty and sorry, 
                    the blocked and shadowed memories from him. Sinister did 
                    his job well. Even more slick than Momma. He uses someone 
                    and makes them feel responsible. Then he uses that guilt and 
                    obligation to ensure their future cooperation. Morosely 
                    she kicked some loose shingles. Looks like Remy fell for 
                    it like a load of bricks. That oversensitive fool. I was a terrorist, Logan was 
                    a spy, 'Roro was a thief, Bishop was a supercop and Jean destroyed 
                    a couple of galaxies. All things considering, I doubt whatever 
                    he did was that bad. And if it is, so what? Of course 
                    the X-folks would give him a hard time. That was their way. 
                    But right now no one was going to fuss too much. Not with 
                    Zero Tolerance in full swing. Besides, if we kick him out 
                    he'll probably just turn into the Witness. Worst comes to 
                    worst I can knock a few heads. Blinking at the final thought 
                    she realized it was true. Sure she believed in Xavier's dream 
                    if not always his methods. But the original reason she'd joined 
                    was purely self-serving. He was a telepath and her mind was 
                    being put through a meat grinder. Not to mention the Prof 
                    wanted to take a powerhouse away from his enemies. They 
                    had made a deal. I play nice and by his rules. Pull my 
                    punches and keep my ideas to myself when I thought the field 
                    command was lousy. In return the Prof straightens out my head. 
                    She shifted uneasily at the next cynical and almost traitorous 
                    thought. He never did really though. He could have easily. 
                    But if he had he'd have lost his only bargaining chip with 
                    me. Yeah, great man. He may have a grand dream but he's still 
                    only a man like any other. Honesty, there was an idea. Something to be abhorred and 
                    yet respected. How can you ever be honest when you've grown 
                    up lying with a smile on your face? Remy's smile never 
                    fooled her; she understood it too well. As a result, she trusted 
                    him. So why wouldn't he tell me? Does he really think I'll 
                    drop him if I know what he did? This was the root of the 
                    matter. Remy had been too much of a chicken to look her in 
                    the eye and tell her. Instead he tries to force me to take 
                    the truth from him; tries to make me the aggressor. Coward! 
                    Why pick such a mutually painful way to reveal the truth? 
                    Would it really hurt that much to just say it? She couldn't 
                    stand people who insisted on being victims, herself included. All in all, the particulars of his secret were a moot point 
                    to her. The nightmares had actually bothered her more. Putting 
                    up with someone's fear and pain without at least having something 
                    to point at was unnerving. Sometimes it was hard not to be 
                    angry at him. Floating memories were an occupational hazard 
                    she accepted. The problem was she couldn't find the root of 
                    these. Before, she could always trace the memory back to its 
                    origin and extract it thereby allowing it to fade. If she 
                    didn't, her own mind would eventually absorb the memory and 
                    make it hers. That was a side effect of her powers to prevent 
                    schizophrenia. Remy's memories came complete with blocks and 
                    a lifetime warranty. She had enough nightmares of her own 
                    to deal with. Especially now that the Prof isn't here to 
                    rebuild the blocks. "Penny f'ya t'oughts." Great. Just who I need tripping over himself trying to 
                    apologize. She sent him an expressionless once over as 
                    he strolled to her side. He braced his arm on the adjoining 
                    panel and leaned his side into it. That's right, hide behind 
                    the corner. She slid her eyes over him and, properly distracted, 
                    scowled. Subtle, real subtle Cajun. You try and get those 
                    hips any closer to me and I'll smack you upside the head. 
                    Why could't he be ugly? Or better yet, a dull "boy 
                    next door type" like Cyke or Bobby? I'd even settle 
                    for safe like Joseph. "Chere- " Remy saw the scowl and bit the inside 
                    of his cheek. "Look, I know dat mebbe I. . . not tellin' 
                    y'everyt'ing you wanna know but - Dieu. . . . " Very unusual for him to be tongue-tied like this. Hmph. 
                    Probably trying to find a new way to say the same old hash. 
                    Either that or he was trying to confront her about Joseph. 
                    Talk about pessimistic assumptions there. I mother Joe 
                    more than anything else. He swung around the corner to face her. Shit. Not again. Same reaction every time he gets within 
                    a foot of me. And he's so much the gentleman that he never 
                    follows through. Jerk. Seeing her lip curl and her eyes narrow he stopped and ran 
                    his hand through his hair. He bowed his head and continued. 
                    "I sorry 'kay? But belie' me, you don' wanna know what's 
                    hidin' in my head." Of course I don't you idiot. Do you really think I'm that 
                    intrusive? "Ah know Remy. Y'already tol' me that. Ain't mad at 
                    you, but 'less ya got somethin' to add, lea' me alone." 
                    She hated being so callous. If she told him the truth, made 
                    him believe that she trusted him and didn't care about his 
                    past, he'd take advantage of it. Not intentionally, still, 
                    it would be precedant. Pretty soon he'd start lying about 
                    this and that and hiding things to "protect her". 
                    Worse, he'd expect her to forgive him. I will not allow 
                    anyone to take me for granted again. Not even him. He sighed and she watched his ribs shift. Dammit, I don't 
                    need this. My night was perfectly fine. If I fly now he'll 
                    think I'm dumping him or something equally dumb. Remy 
                    said something else about Joseph but she wasn't listening 
                    anymore. Like the proverbial blind man her senses had developed 
                    to compensate for her lack of physical contact and right now 
                    they were working overtime. She made the mistake of taking 
                    a deep breath to calm down and immediately let it out between 
                    her teeth. He stopped talking when he heard her hiss. Her shoulders 
                    were hunched and her hands were fisted. She stared resolutely 
                    at the roof in front of her. It was hopeless; she'd never 
                    give him another chance. It was no less than he deserved. 
                    Silently, he dropped his eyes. "Huh, guess I know how 
                    y'be feelin', non?" Horny. Rogue glowered. Not that she couldn't deal 
                    with it, but sleep would be nice for a change. She started 
                    tapping a finger against her leg. "Never min'. We talk later." Remy scuffed the toe 
                    of his boot on the shingles before turning and walking off 
                    with a dejected air. As soon as she felt his body heat dissipate, Rogue let out 
                    a huff and sank down to sit. Why, oh why, does everyone 
                    assume I'm some kind of innocent? She gave a shaky laugh 
                    as she observed her hand trembling where it hung over her 
                    knee. Lord, why don't I just tell him? It's not like we 
                    need to have sex to get some kicks. But the thought of 
                    any intimacy further than what they had now created a cold 
                    clammy fear in the pit of her stomach. And an odd sense of 
                    shame she couldn't quite place. Caught for a second, unwanted 
                    memories, her memories, flickered to the surface. Quickly, 
                    she crushed them back down and gave a weak chuckle. Girl, 
                    you've been brooding too long for one night. After a moment 
                    she put her palms on her knees and rolled to her feet. It 
                    was time to find something else to do. 
                           
       
 
        Down-Home Charm / Fan-Fiction / 
        Fan Artwork / History Books / 
        Photo Album / Songbank / 
        Miscellania / Links / 
        Updates Legalese: Rogue, the X-Men, and the distinctive likenesses thereof 
        are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used without permission. This is an
        unofficial fansite, and is not sponsored, licensed or approved by 
        Marvel Comics. Privacy Policy and Submission
        Guidelines
 |