by Ludi and angyxoxo
Remy woke up riding on
an unusual sense of euphoria. It took a
moment for the previous night to come back to him. Both him and the girl of his dreams – the girl he’d only just
realized meant more to him than he’d ever imagined – making wild, passionate
love. Several times. It was almost too good to be true.
He rolled onto his
side, searching for her with his free arm, still wanting to hold her close,
still wanting to whisper in her ear just how much she meant to him, that last
night hadn’t just been a one-night stand, that he found her perfect in almost
every way; that she was his chere, she was his coeur, she was his one and only,
she was his… …
She was gone.
Remy sat up, dazed and
confused, only to find it was true.
Next to him – where she’d been lying only a few hours before looking all
tousled and gorgeous and sexy – was now
an empty space. His heart sank into the
soles of his feet and lower. She really
was gone. All that remained of her was
the traces of her perfume, lingering on the pillows and bed sheets, torturing him
with the erotic memory of her presence.
He got out of bed and slipped on his boxers, expecting to hear her
suddenly turn on the shower, to hear her sultry voice singing the blues, to
hear her call him from downstairs telling him the coffee was ready.
Dat must be it… she’s downstairs...
He hurried down but
somehow he knew she wouldn’t be there.
Every room was as empty and cold as his bed had been. He stood in the middle of the lounge,
running his fingers through his hair in agitation.
What’d I do wrong, chere?
He’d tried to be good,
just for her – really he had. He’d even
asked her again and again whether sleeping with him was what she really
wanted. They’d got as far as being both
practically naked and he still would’ve been willing to stop if that’s what
she’d wanted. To his eternal gratitude
she’d told him that she wanted it, that she wanted him, that she didn’t want to leave. So why had she gone now?
It was then that he
noticed it. A glossy sliver of paper
that had somehow fluttered down under the coffee table. A photograph, passport sized. He bent over and picked it up. He stared at it, his breath catching
painfully in his throat.
It was Anna, his Anna,
smiling blissfully, green eyes sparkling, looking truly happy in a way he’d never seen her look before. She was beautiful, radiant, almost
heartbreakingly so.
She also had her arms
round a wholesome, good-looking, blond-haired, blue-eyed guy who appeared to be
every inch as happy as she was.
They were the very
image of the perfect couple.
Remy swallowed. If his heart could’ve sunk any further, it
would have. Why had she left him? Why had she been fending him off for so
long, and with such persistence? The
reason was plain to see, and he was holding it in his hand at that very moment.
Rogue was another
guy’s gal.
-oOo-
The image was as
dramatic and alluring as a close-up on the silverscreen.
Emma was pouting at
herself in the mirror and reveling in her movie-star good-looks as she applied
the final finishing touch of Max Factor Firebrand to her lips. One look at her corset and
micro-mini-skirt-enhanced body and you wouldn’t have thought that less than 12
hours ago she was a cringing mess. The
truth was it was Saturday and she had a date with an old acquaintance,
Sebastian Shaw. And even if she was
disinclined to go, there was no way she wasn’t going to tackle this head on –
especially not without looking her goddamn sexiest best.
Having applied her
makeup, Emma blew herself a kiss and studied herself in the mirror. She looked exactly like a high-class escort
girl on the rampage. It was precisely
the look she wanted.
Turning on her
stiletto heels, Emma marched down the stairs with the air of a woman on a
mission, only to open the front door and find herself staring at Bobby Drake,
his finger poised to ring the doorbell.
“Bobby!” she
exclaimed, her heart suddenly going into off-road gear.
“Emma!” He dropped his
hand to his side and dug his hands nervously into his pockets, unable to help
his cheeks from going beet-red – or his eyes from wandering the length of her
barely-clad body. “You look…fantastic,” he finished.
“What are you doing
here?” she retorted stiffly, deliberately ignoring the compliment. If it were possible, he reddened even more.
“I, uh, have work
today…” he replied. “Don't you remember?
Saturday’s I do the pool…”
“Well, the pool’s out
back and the shed’s that way,” she pointed out rudely, waiting for him to take
the hint and leave her alone. He
didn’t.
“Actually, Emma…” he
began awkwardly instead. “I wanted to talk to you before I started work. You know, about the other night?”
Emma’s guts turned to
ice at this, but there was no way in hell she was going to let him know that
the thought of talking to him about the other night scared her witless.
“Sorry, Robert,” she
replied coolly, glancing down at her watch impatiently, “but I’m rather
busy. This will have to wait until
another time.”
“Busy?” He looked
confused. “You mean…you’re going out?”
“Well, what does it
look like?” she snapped, losing her temper. “As it happens I’m going out on a
date, with a very nice, respectable man named Sebastian Shaw. We’re having dinner together.”
Bobby stared, unable
to conceal the hurt and bewilderment in his eyes. Emma wanted to physically
cringe for being so cruel, but the bitch within her was already smiling in
wicked triumph as another man fell victim to her tortures.
“Dinner?” he finally
repeated, his tone wounded. He looked her over once, twice, his expression a
very picture of dismay. “You look like…” He trailed off, not wanting to hurt
her feelings, but she knew what he meant to say anyway.
“A hoe?” she couldn’t
help finishing for him sharply. “You think I look like a hoe, right? Is that what you meant to say?”
“I never said – ” he
tried to defend himself, but she was quicker.
“But you were thinking
it, weren’t you?” she spat angrily. “You think I’m cheap and disgusting and a
whore, don’t you?”
“Emma!” he exclaimed,
truly shocked at her words. “Geez, Emma, how could you believe I would even think that? God… I know I’m a doofus and I talk out of my butt sometimes…
well, most of the time probably… But I am definitely not talkin’ out of my butt when I say you’re the most amazing woman
I’ve ever met and I’d never ever think
that of you!”
Under any normal
circumstances she would’ve caved into his puppy dog eagerness to please
her. But now she was so mad that she
could find nothing endearing in his words.
If anything she was madder at herself than at him.
“Oh really?” she
seethed sarcastically, her pale blue eyes glinting. “Well, if that’s the case
then why did you take advantage of me the other night, huh? Isn’t it because you’d seen me taken
advantage of before? Isn’t it because
you thought I deserved it? Isn’t it because
you knew I’d be an easy lay?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” He held his hands up in
self-defense, his eyes so wide with shock and hurt he looked like a rabbit
caught in headlights. “Emma, you have
this totally wrong! Okay, I admit, the other night was a mistake
– you were upset and vulnerable and we both got a bit drunk and we shouldn’t
have…you know… I mean, we should’ve waited…”
“Oh, so you mean
you’ve had designs on me from the very beginning?” she immediately goaded him,
unable to help herself.
“What? No!” She’d never seen a man look so scared and bewildered in her
life, and part of her hated herself for tormenting him but it was the only way
left to save her pride. “I mean yes…
In a way…”
“So you admit it?” she
pounced on the admission like a hungry jaguar.
“Not like that! I would never have touched you unless I
thought…” He faltered, embarrassed, and she couldn’t resist probing for more.
“Unless what? Unless you thought what exactly?” she persisted, cornering him even further against
the porch wall. He was literally
sweating by now.
“Well…unless I thought
you felt the same way about me as I feel about you…” he explained in an
appeasing tone. Emma stared at
him. Here it came. She could feel it coming – everything she’d
ever wanted – a guy admitting he cared for her, that he never wanted to hurt
her, that he wanted to protect her… And the child in her was already running
away, screaming. Without a thought she
found herself snapping: “Well, I guess you thought wrong, didn’t you!”
To her amazement, his
response was not what she’d expected.
She’d expected groveling and foot-kissing and any number of self-debasing
acts. But not the way his eyes
hardened, nor the scorn which suddenly filled his face.
“Wait a minute!” he
began indignantly, “you mean to say that all those times you flirted with me, it wasn’t because you liked me? Are you saying that you were actually
leading me on?”
Now it was Emma’s turn
to bristle with outrage. This was
definitely not what she had been
expecting. “Excuse me? I was not flirting with you!”
“What! You mean that time
you kissed me on the doorstep… All those sexy innuendoes… Not to mention,
telling me I could stare at your breasts anytime I wanted to… None of that was what you’d call
‘flirting’?”
She gasped, furious
that he, of all people, should be
challenging her.
“How dare you…!” she began hotly, but for
once he wasn’t going to stand for it.
“Save it, Ms. Frost,”
he cut in coldly, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look
so serious. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. Okay, so I may be a nerd and a total loser, but you know what? I don’t deserve to be used like that. And I don’t believe you have the nerve to
accuse me of taking advantage of you
the other night when I was obviously nothing more than a plaything to you.” He
shook his head in sudden disgust. “You know,” he added, “I was going to apologize
to you about that night because I’d really hoped that if a night like that was
ever going to happen between us, it was going to be nice and respectable and
not a drunken fling. I was going to ask
you whether you wanted to start over, but obviously you’re going to be moving
onto your next conquest tonight. I
don’t know what it is with you, Emma. Do you enjoy torturing poor, defenseless
guys like me or something? ‘Cos if you
do, you should really go and get yourself a life – no guy’s gonna waste his
time waiting to be…to be whipped into
submission by you.” He looked at her again, but this time it was a look of such
disdain and disapproval that even though she’d been boiling with anger all the
way through his speech, she was now temporarily shocked into silence. He’d been planning to apologize, to talk
things over! He’d really wanted to be
with her, to make a fresh start! He’d
wanted them to be serious! But now it
hardly mattered because she’d finally done it.
She’d chased him away, just like she did every man in her life. Yet paradoxically she wanted nothing more
than to have him close.
“I’ll leave you to
your ‘date’, Ms. Frost,” he added cuttingly. “I hope sleeping with him turns
out to be more worthwhile than sleeping with the low-down gardener.”
He brushed roughly
past her and stalked off back to his bicycle, leaving Emma simmering with rage
at his parting comment.
“Robert Drake!” she
stammered after him, her left eye twitching maniacally. “You are so fired!”
“I already quit!” he
threw back over his shoulder before jumping onto his bike and pedaling away
with as much dignity as one could manage on a bike. Normally Emma would have found the whole picture comical, but now
she was definitely not laughing. For
the first time Bobby Drake had grown a backbone and told her exactly what he
thought of her – and for some reason she found that very exciting indeed. Without thinking she raced to the end of the
driveway, but all she caught of him was a final glimpse of his perfectly-formed
tush as it finally disappeared round the corner.
“Darn you, Bobby
Drake!” she wailed at no one in particular, childishly flinging her purse to
the sidewalk in a temper. “Why do you have to be so goddamn cute!”
-xXx-
Warren had been
sitting in the same dingy diner the last hour and a half, most of which he’d
spent staring at the coffee dregs in the bottom of his cup. He’d been sandwiched between the window and
a homeless bum, and while the homeless bum had been ranting on about how
stuffing newspaper into your underwear was the best way of keeping warm in
winter, Warren had been staring into his cup and seeing only one thing.
Betsy Braddock’s face
in the coffee dregs.
Either he was
hallucinating or he drastically needed to go home and get some sleep.
Instead he ordered
himself another crap coffee while the homeless guy began comparing the
intrinsic thermal qualities of the National
Enquirer as opposed to the New York
Times. Warren said nothing and
pretended to listen. It wasn’t that he
minded at all. He was a rich man with
rich man’s tastes, true, but in his present mood slumming it didn’t seem
entirely unnatural. He even felt quite
wistful about it, as if no man’s life was truly complete unless he’d been
rejected by a beautiful woman and had spent the following morning sulking in a
trashy diner in the rough part of town.
Yup – this was real,
pure and unadulterated life as it should be.
Now if only he had
Betsy by his side right now, he’d be complete.
He stared at the
bottom of his cup to find she was still there.
Shit. He really needed to go home and sleep.
Warren sighed and dug
in his pocket for some change before getting up to leave. The bum had given up and left at some point
during Warren’s reverie, obviously finding him a less than engaging companion. He’d also left several of his newspapers
lying around, strewn on the seat.
Warren half considered doing a good turn and returning them to him –
they were doubling up as thermal
underwear for the guy after all – when something on one of the advertisement
pages caught his eye. Reaching for the
scraps of paper, he took it and read it over a couple of times.
“Fashion house and associated textiles workshop for sale,” he
murmured out loud to himself. “Millicent
Collins, 1950’s model and current owner of the Glamour fashion house, has
retired and is selling her business to the highest bidder. Prospective buyers will need a working
knowledge of and/or interest in the fashion industry. Hmmm.”
Warren tore the advert
off the page and folded it neatly before slipping it into his coat pocket. He paid the bill and left the diner, this
time with a small, self-satisfied smile on his face.
He didn’t care if
Betsy didn’t want him. Even if she
pushed him away again and again, he was going to show her how much he really
cared anyway.
And he knew exactly
how he was going to do it.
-oOo-
Jean was lying in bed,
staring at the clock.
It was Saturday
afternoon, and the previous night felt like a lifetime ago, so near and yet so
far. She wondered what Logan was doing
– lying in bed, staring at the clock, same as she was? Staring at the clock and thinking about her,
the way she was thinking about him? She
closed her eyes and rubbed her face with the heels of both hands,
exhausted. She’d barely slept for
thinking about what could’ve happened last night and didn’t. She could’ve woken up this morning in his bed. They could’ve kissed and talked about anything and everything
from their favorite colors to the different countries they’d traveled to. They could’ve showered together and gotten
dressed together and laughed and joked over breakfast.
She could’ve embarked
on her first affair.
Oh God…
What had she been
thinking?
She opened her eyes
and looked at the clock again. Scott
would be back in two days. She’d have
to pick him up at the airport and ask him about Madelyne Pryor and what they’d
been up to. She was completely dreading
it.
Next to the clock the
red light of the answer machine was flashing.
Somehow she just knew it was Scott.
He’d promised he’d phone her back but she didn’t want to know what he
had to say. She was just too scared.
But what if he’d been
telling the truth? What if he hadn’t been having an affair? What if that was what he was going to tell
her? Jean clung desperately to this
hope. It gave her enough courage to
reach for the ‘play’ button and give her fiancé a second chance…
…Before the doorbell
went off.
Jean jerked upright at
the sound, her heart racing. Feeling
half relieved and somewhat ashamed with herself for doing so, she jumped out of
bed, went to the door and threw it open.
To her horror, on the
other side stood Rogue, her face white and drawn, her eyes haunted and red.
“Rogue!” Immediate and
instinctive concern washed over Jean, replacing any self-pity she’d felt before. She knew the look on Rogue’s face. She’d seen it before – four years ago. She didn’t even waste time thinking on what
that meant. Reaching out, she placed an arm round her friend’s shoulder,
feeling her shudder beneath her touch, and quickly drew her into the apartment.
“Let’s get you inside, hun,” she spoke soothingly, closing the door behind
them.
Rogue said nothing as
Jean led her to a nearby couch and helped her sit down. She knew better than to
push Rogue for information. Still
holding her arm comfortingly round her friend, she sat down next to her. “Is
there anything you want, Rogue?” she asked gently. “Shall I make you a cup of
tea? I’ll get you a cup of tea and when
you feel ready you can talk about it.”
The words of kindness
seemed to send Rogue over the edge.
Jean had been just about to get up when Anna clutched onto her sleeves
so tightly that she was alarmed and had to sit back down again. Before she could get any words out Rogue
buried her face into Jean’s shoulder and suddenly – and violently – began to
cry.
Jean was shocked. She’d seen Rogue cry on numerous occasions,
but she’d never seen her bawl the way she was now. It was a few moments before her natural mothering instinct finally
won through and she was able to hold the Southerner comfortingly in her
embrace. For several minutes Rogue
clung to the redhead, weeping and hiccuping into her shoulder before her tears
finally subsided a little. All Jean
could do was pat her soothingly on the back.
The look she’d seen on Rogue’s face was so desperate, so familiar that
she had little doubt as to what it meant.
And for the first time the caring mother figure that was Jean Grey
didn’t know what to say to comfort her.
“Anna…” was all she
could get out before the disconsolate Southerner raised her head and
volunteered the information herself.
“It’s…it’s Cody,” she
stumbled through her tears. “He…he’s gone, Jean. Cody’s gone…”
She burst into fresh
tears and Jean pulled her back into her embrace, shocked beyond words at the
news. Of course she and Betsy and Emma
had known that it was an eventuality that was bound to happen sometime, but now
that it had happened it had come so
suddenly…
“Oh God,” she
breathed, knowing anything she said would be painfully inadequate. “Rogue, I’m so sorry…”
She felt Rogue bury
her face into her shoulder, the sobs that racked her body. “Oh Jean, you don’t
know how glad Ah am you’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled. “Ah just
didn’t know who else to turn to…”
Jean shushed her
softly, rocking her gently in her embrace.
“When did this
happen?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yesterday…yesterday
evenin’,” Rogue replied tearfully. At
the words Jean pulled back, taking her friend by the shoulders and looking at
her sternly. “Yesterday? And you didn’t even tell any of us?! Rogue,
you should’ve phoned instead of staying at home and bottling this all up inside
yourself! You know we would’ve been there for you, any time of the day or night!”
Rogue said nothing for
a long moment, scrubbing her eyes with an already worn tissue, her mouth
suddenly crumpling in agony.
“Oh, Jean,” she said
in a broken whisper, “Ah’ve done somethin’ terrible! Ah…Ah just don’t know what t’ do!”
Jean was by now truly
upset to see the terrible pain her friend was in. She swallowed hard on the lump in her throat, wondering what to
say as she stroked Rogue’s hair softly, knowing she was unable to console her
but wishing desperately that she could.
Suddenly all her own troubles paled into insignificance.
“What is it?” she
asked, as gently and encouragingly as she could.
“You’re goin’ t’ hate
meh!” Rogue wailed plaintively, her shoulders quaking.
“Now you know that’s not true. What could you possibly have done that’s so
terrible? I promise you, I won’t think
anything bad of you. How could I?”
Rogue looked away,
sniffing miserably, her voice wavering in despair.
“Ah…Ah spent the night
with Remy LeBeau,” she finally confessed, on the verge of tears once more. “And
Ah don't think Ah can ever f’give mahself!”
If Jean had been shocked
before she simply didn’t know what she was now. All she could do was stare at her friend in disbelief.
“See, Ah knew you’d
look at me like that,” Rogue muttered accusingly, turning away again. “And Ah
don’t blame yah! Ah feel like Ah’ve
spit all over Cody’s mem’ry!”
She dissolved into
tears again and Jean, now out of her temporary shock, hastened to put her arms
round her friend once more.
“Tell me about it,”
she murmured soothingly. “I promised you I wouldn’t judge you and I’m not about
to start now. You know you can tell me
anything, Rogue. Anything.”
Rogue sniffled and
wiped her nose with the now-tattered tissue, replied: “Oh Jean – Ah’m not even
sure how it happened. Y’see, the
hospital phoned me while Ah was at work… an’ Remy just happened t’ come across
me when Ah’d just received the news. He
was so kind, Jean… Takin’ me back to his place, treatin’ me decent, givin’ me
mah space… And then Ah was just feelin’
upset and vulnerable, and just so incredibly lonely, and somehow… it just happened.”
“And you think he was
taking advantage of you?” Jean asked quietly, gravely. “You think he knew you
were feeling vulnerable and he used that to bait you?” If
that’s the case, I’ll head over to that guy’s place right now and rip his head
off for hurting Rogue! Jean added mentally to herself, gritting her teeth
viciously with uncharacteristic violence.
“N-No,” Rogue replied
dejectedly, her tears subsiding somewhat. “An’ that’s the crazy part. Ah
was the one who started it all.” She turned, looking at Jean with wide,
timorous eyes. “Ah know you won’t understand – Ah barely understand it mahself
since Ah just ain’t that kinda gal, but… Ah just wanted – Ah just really needed – to feel that somebody wanted
and loved meh just like Cody had. And
Remy… He’s been such a jerk… but so
wonderful at the same time, and… and it was so nice, Jean, like it was more than just comfort sex…” She faltered,
dropping her head into her hands, and Jean couldn’t have expected in her
wildest dreams what she heard next. “Ah think… Jean, Ah really think that Ah
might be fallin’ in love with him…”
It was the last in a
long line of shocks Jean had received in the past 24 hours, and even as she
tried to say something soothing and comforting to her dear friend, the gravity
of Rogue’s dilemma began to dawn on her and she could say nothing. She could barely even begin to comprehend
how Rogue felt, let alone take it all in.
“But what if,” she
began after a moment, trying wildly to make some sense out of it all, something
good and worth holding onto, “Rogue,
what if he feels the same way? Couldn’t
there be a chance that his kindness was down to something more than just mere
concern or even deception? Could it be
he really cares for you too?”
Rogue shook her head
fiercely in answer.
“No. The guy just ain’t capable of love,
Jeannie. He wouldn’t know what it
looked like even if it came up and bit him on the ass!” She paused and sighed
with frustration. “Look, Jean, Ah don’t doubt for a minute that his kindness
was genuine. But love – no way, it
ain’t possible. He just saw a chance t’ score and took
it. And Ah let him. That’s what
hurts.” She looked away, her voice lowering slightly. “And y’know what’s even
crazier? It felt so special when Ah was with him. Ah hate
him, Jean, but Ah can’t help thinkin’ how wonderful he is, and it’s so wrong but when Ah’m around him he makes
me feel like a million dollars, mah stomach turns somersaults every time Ah
think about him…” Even through her tears, her pale face was flushed and she
couldn’t help smiling. “If only he wasn’t such a goddamn whore…!” she finally
cried in frustration.
By now, Jean didn’t
doubt just how strong Rogue’s feelings for the wayward Cajun were, even if
Rogue herself did. So she squeezed her
friend’s shoulder encouragingly and said: “Maybe you should go back and talk to
him…” But Rogue brushed aside the suggestion firmly, shaking her head with
typical stubborn resolution.
“No, Ah just can’t face him again Jean, not so soon
after the fact. Besides,” she added in
a lower tone, “the fact is, my fiancé’s just passed, and Ah’ve just gone and
betrayed him by sleepin’ with another man.
It doesn’t matter how or why it happened, it was just wrong.”
Jean couldn’t help but
silently agree. Of course – Cody had
only just passed away, and Rogue had him and his family to think of. Even Jean knew the guilt Rogue must be
feeling at the moment and it far surpassed her own. Wordlessly she took her friend’s hands in her own and held them
tightly, trying to will any strength she had left into her.
“Rogue,” she began
gently, not wanting to bring up the painful memories but unable to find any
other way of bringing things home to her friend, “we all know Cody would only
ever have wanted your happiness. Even
you said so yourself. That’s why we
supported you when you were with Erik and Joe and all those other guys. We wanted you to find happiness again. And if you really care about Remy, then I’m
sure Cody would be glad to know you
were finally happy once more. Isn’t
that right?”
Rogue was silent,
ruminating on the redhead’s words a moment before shaking her head regretfully.
“Ah know Cody would
want me to be happy,” she agreed softly. “But the question is: can Remy LeBeau
give me that kinda happiness? To him,
makin’ me happy would probably just amount to how long he could keep it up in
bed. And that ain’t what Ah want from a
relationship, Jean, not now, not never.”
Jean gave a small, wry
smile, glad to see that despite everything Rogue’s usual canny sense of humor
was still intact. Still, they both knew
that for now it was a hopeless case.
Rogue’s first duty was to her dead fiancé, the man who’d always held
that first and most important space in her heart.
“Jean,” Anna spoke up
quietly, “Ah need t’ use your phone.”
Puzzled, Jean reached
for the cordless phone on her coffee table, her eye catching the flashing red
light again of the answer machine again.
But now Scott and Logan were the furthest things from her mind, replaced
only with concern for her bereaved friend.
“What are you going to
do?” she asked.
“Ah haveta say goodbye
t’ Cody,” Rogue replied in an undertone. “Ah haveta book a flight down to
Mississippi right away.”
-xXx-
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