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"I Don't Remember"

I Don't Remember

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

This story is in progress.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off the property (as of below) of Marvel. I wish I did tho'. :)
Note: This story doesn't exactly follow the comic timeline, but this is when Rogue and Remy were seeing better days in their relationship definately before the kiss and the dark secret thingie, I just wrote it to play around with the idea (yeah, why not. After all if Magneto can do it...); and to break into fan-fic pages. I hope everyone digs this one and we'll see what else I can come up with.
Here goes. All comments to please.

I Don't Remember
Part 1

She stared at his empty and neatly-made bed. It'd been in that exact state for three days now, and although Rogue knew that Remy LeBeau could take care of himself very well, she couldn't help but worry. The last time she saw the man was the night when he'd gone off for his after-dinner ride on his Harley -- but he always came back to the mansion before midnight.

Except this time.

Rogue looked around his room for the umpteenth time, hoping to find a note lying somewhere around that would tell her of his whereabouts, but the search was somewhat futile.

"He's a big boy, Rogue. He ain't gonna get into any trouble he can't get out of," A voice growled behind her. It was Wolverine. "Don'cha worry. Get some sleep, Rogue."

"Ah will. Just not now." The X-woman sat wearily on the black satin laden bed. "Something's happened, ah just know it. Ah feel it in my gut. How can ah *not* worry?"

Wolverine chuckled and said in a teasing tone, "Someone's fallen hard, eh?" With that, he turned and left the room.

Gazing after the stocky man, Rogue hugged herself and managed a wistful smile. "Maybe so, Wolvie. Maybe so."


He could've sworn he heard some part of his body crack.

"Ow, ow, ow. Merde..."

A grunt escaped from the dishevelled man as he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed. His hands cradled his head as it throbbed painfully, and he tried to think.

'Dis not right. I don' seem t'belong here...'

"Hello. Good to see you're up," The voice emerged from the doorway of the cozy room. "How're you feeling?"

His eyes looked up slowly, carefully so as not to strain his heavy head, and met with a pair of beautiful green ones. Somehow, in the back of his head, he knew he had seen green eyes more dazzling than those of now. But where and whose, he didn't know.

"Like a goner," he rasped. "Where dis place?"

"Oh, my apartment." The woman busied herself with wringing a flannel. She stopped halfway through and looked shyly at him. "Thank you for yesterday...I don't even know your name!"

The man sighed as the icy-cold flannel was put to his flushed face.

"My name?" He winced as he tried to recall. "Name..."

She pinned him with a curious yet worried gaze. "Yes, your name. I'm Jenny Owens."



"I don' remember."

'Oh boy,' I thought to myself as I struggled to haul my mystery man out of the car. 'I have an amnesiac on my hands!'

He groaned as I threw his arm around my shoulder. Puffs of steam clouded my vision as I heaved with my exertions that chilly evening.

"Come on, sweetcheeks, you're not helping me!" He was hardly awake and we stumbled around like fools in the hospital carpark. "Almost there!"

"My head hurts..." he whined.

I half-dragged and half-pushed him all the way into the cozy reception area of the hospital. And I half-hyperventilated from my efforts. Geez. There's the staff nurse. Now if I can only get her attention...

"Ma'am, can you help me? I've got this amnesiac man with me, I think he bumped his head when he got hit by a car last night," The sweet lady smiled at me and said she'd be right there...

That was 4 hours ago.

I dozed off most of the time, but I did get a good look at my savior.

He was quite a hunk. That irresistable unshaven look, that well-chiselled face. Tall, dark and handsome, I guess. Everything that my mom had warned me about. This guy was gallant too; I felt a pang of guilt. He wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me.

I was stupid last night. Didn't see where I was going and assumed that the road was empty; well it was until this Audi swerved round the corner and I thought, 'There's the end of my life!' That was when my knight in shining armour (well, okay.
Black leather) shot out on his Harley and pushed me out of the way, only to get bumped off the road by the car and flung onto the road.

The heartless son-of-a-bitch who had the Audi just went on.

I can't figure out why I didn't send him to the hospital immediately. I mean, he didn't seem to have broken anything, the little cuts and bruises weren't anything I couldn't handle. I was, after all, a former member of the Red Cross cadets back in elementary school...What a joke. Alright, so it was a perverse side of me; I was lonely, and I liked the idea of a good-looking guy in my home. It was just like the movies.

"Okay, dear, we can move your friend now," The nurse finally approached and helped me get the sleeping man into a wheelchair.

"It's about time," I muttered under my breath.

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen; Rogue poured herself a hearty mug of the black stuff before settling into a chair at the table. She rubbed her eyes and sighed, resting her head on table.


Her head snapped up immediately; her eyes brimming with hope.

"Anything at all, Jean?"

The resident telepath shook her head and took a seat at the table. "It's like he...didn't exist at all. He could be using some sort of blocking device, but I doubt it. And then he might be..."

"How 'bout if he lost his memory? Ain't that possible too?" Rogue interuppted, eager to disperse the possibility that the Cajun might be dead.

"Yes, that's why we've put out a missing persons report; hopefully we'll hear from the police soon," Jean put her hand on Rogue's gloved one and gave it a comforting squeeze. "He's alright, Rogue."


Continued in Chapter 2.


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