Chapter Text
Rogue
“I want to marry you,” Remy Lebeau had said to her, twice.
The first time, he had a concussion and was completely out of his mind. The second time they were flying in the stars, and she had no clue if he was joking, or if he was actually telling her the truth, for once in his life.
It didn’t matter. Rogue couldn’t get those words out of her head, either way.
How many more mornings of waking up to the most delicious breakfast in bed and his cats piled all over her was it going to take for her to finally admit that she wanted to marry him? Years ago now, he’d stolen her heart away, and by the time she’d noticed it was gone, it was too late to ever get it back.
So she’d taken his instead, and she didn’t even have to steal it. He’d handed it to her on a silver platter like it was always meant to be hers.
The past few months with Remy had felt like heaven. Not even in her dreams had Rogue ever believed a life like this was something she could have, and yet he kept proving her wrong, again and again. She used to think love wasn’t something that was meant for her. Then Remy had opened his heart to her and let her see how she was carved into every inch of it, and now, how could she ever forget?
She’d harmed him, then. she’d hurt him a whole lot of times. And he forgave her, just like he did all the times before. It took years for her to ever be able to believe him when he said he loved her.
Some days, she wondered if she ever deserved any of this. It all had to be just another beautiful dream, and she’d wake up, any minute now.
Except she never did wake up. Somehow, this was real. Somehow, Remy wanted her, uncontrollable powers and all.
If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake back up.
Now, Rogue was standing in the entryway of an old, vacant building. It was Remy’s, once. It never had the chance to be a home. A part of his heart still lived here. she could feel it like a buzz in the back of her mind, a remnant of him, still left in her. He never told her why it was so hard to drag him away from it, to bring him back home, those few months ago. He didn’t need to. Often, Rogue wondered if Remy realized what it really meant to have let her inside his head, like that. Did he understand that ever since she’d kissed him, there were never any secrets left between them? He tried to be mysterious, to keep his feelings and his past as close to his chest as he could. She didn’t know if he would pull away from her, if he realized just how much she knew.
She knew he liked savory things much more than sweets. She knew just how easily he got jealous, and how much he hated himself, when he did. She knew he had never really known love until he’d met her, that it was a miracle he lived past thirteen, that he thought his life was disposable until he stumbled into the hands of people who liked him so much more alive than six feet under.
She knew, deep down, all he wanted was to be loved—that he talked big, like he wanted the whole world in his hands, when all he really wanted was to have a safe place to sleep at night, a warm place to lay down his head. She knew in all his dreams that safety looked just like her.
He’d dreamed of a life like that here, once. It was before he’d ever known her, before he’d ever really known what things like love and safety felt like. But he could imagine it, since the day he was brought into this world a monster.
Remy believed he’d always be safe, beside her. He believed the two of them could create something beautiful together, something that looked a whole lot like peace.
Rogue could pretend she didn’t know why she came here, tonight. She’d run from her own heart for years, she could easily do it again. But this time, she wasn’t so scared anymore. Maybe because no matter how much the darkness in her heart tried to take it from her—she could still remember how it felt to have Remy’s mind in hers, how his love for her was the strongest thing she’d ever known, how she almost thought her heart would burst from her chest and fly away.
He never believed it was possible, for a life like that to be his. Because he was a mutant, a thief, a man who deserved nothing but the punishments for the life he led, that he was born into. But Rogue didn’t think the life she had now could have ever been hers, either. Some days, she still didn’t. But it was. He’d given it to her.
She wanted to give him that, too. A dream come true.
The odds were always stacked against them. Things like safety and happiness weren’t supposed to be in the cards, for people like them.
Rogue was finding that she didn’t care what the world wanted for them at all, because she wanted Remy Lebeau, and if nothing else, didn’t he deserve a bit of peace, after all this?
Rogue slowed her car to a stop in the driveway of the X-mansion. It was late already. She didn’t mean to be gone so long without an explanation, but she’d gotten so lost in her head, back there. Now she was sitting still in the driver’s seat of her car, trying to work up the courage to go back inside, to the life she still wondered if she really deserved.
The front door opened, and there he was, leaning in the doorway—in his cat fur covered pajamas, with his ratty old coat pulled over his shoulders, waiting for her. It took Rogue a very long time to realize that Remy could recognize the sound of her car pulling up to the mansion, every time. He always poked his head out of the door a couple minutes later, if she waited long enough. At least a couple of his cats did, too.
It was the most perfect sight in the world. Remy smiled lazily at her as his cats weaved through his legs, and her heart fluttered about in her chest. Every time she saw him like this, it took everything she had to not jump from the car and fly into his arms. What was she going to tell him? No matter how much she wanted to confess all the thoughts and feelings buzzing in her head, her throat burned at the thought of it. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know how.
He would be heartbroken, if he knew just how confused she was. If he knew that some days, she thought he’d be so much better off without her.
Remy loved her. She knew he did, more than anything else in the world, and nothing could ever change that.
But a broken part of her told her he shouldn’t, and she must be so selfish, for wanting him to.
Rogue knew she never had to listen to that voice. It wasn’t hers, no matter how much it sounded like it, or how convincing it tried to be. She knew Remy loved her scars, too, even when she couldn’t. She didn’t understand why he did, but it sure made her feel beautiful, when he gazed at her like that.
It was so easy to forget the voices in her head when she had his to listen to.
Rogue opened the car door and stepped out, pushing everything else from her mind but the gorgeous man waiting for her at the door. These thoughts could wait. Remy, on the other hand, didn’t want to. He lit up at the sight of her and wound his arm around her waist, tugging her a little to him. This close, she could smell the delicious scent coming from inside, dinner simmering on the stove. Remy smelled like spices and smoke. It made her belly heat, and she wanted to press herself against him and sleep all night there.
“Where’d you go sneakin’ off to, sweetness?” he whispered in her ear, “foods almost gone cold.”
“Just went for a night drive, Remy,” Rogue smiled, her hands shoving playfully at him, “needed to clear my head, a little.”
His eyes blinked slowly at her, his fingers pressing against her back. There was another question forming on his tongue, she could tell—but in a moment, he released her, and that smile was back on his face as he took her by the hand and led her inside.
She always loved when he held her, like that. He’d interlock his fingers with hers and squeeze, just enough for her to feel his pressure through her gloves. It was such a small thing to notice, but she always did, that little act of affection.
Then Remy let her go, and her hands tangled awkwardly in the ringlets of her hair, watching him take his coat off and closing the door behind them and the cats. They skittered away in different directions, vanishing again into this maze of a mansion. Remy’s eyes fixed on her again, lifting his hand to press the back of his gloved palm against her cheek, and she shivered. His body was so warm.
“Winter’s comin’ fast, you know,” he said, dropping his hand, “you gon’ catch a cold if you keep goin’ out without a coat. You’re freezin’.”
Rogue wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at her shoulders. “Ah’m just fine, Cajun. You just like fussin’ over me too much.”
He smiled at that, humming to himself as he brushed her hair away from her face, and she averted her eyes. She couldn’t look at him, when he was this close. The warmth of his breath and that stupid smile on his face was making her heart race, and he knew it. So much for being cold.
“It’s hard not to,” Remy grinned, draping his coat over her shoulders, ”I’ll warm the food back up for you. You better be hungry after stayin’ out all night.”
She was always hungry for Remy’s cooking. Everything he made tasted like the best thing she’d ever eaten, and she was starting to think it was because of him, not the food. “What’d you make?”
“Croquettes. I know you like ‘em. Served them up a while ago, but there’s plenty left.” Rogue’s excitement must have shown, because Remy laughed, leaning into her. “you got a terrible poker face,” he said.
“Like you got a better one?” she huffed, shoving at him again, unable to keep the smile from her face. She swore she could read Remy like a book. She knew, right now, that he was captivated by the fact he’d made her smile, that he wanted to do anything just to make her do it again. He gazed at her for a long moment, and all at once, every thought left her head. She could always tell when he wanted to kiss her, too. His fingertips brushed over her hip, his hand settling in the crook of her waist, like he wanted to tug her against him—but he didn’t. he wouldn’t. This was as far as he could go, and he was fine with that. But it couldn’t stop him from wanting, from wondering what it might be like to touch her, again.
Sometimes she wondered too.
His hand dropped suddenly and he blinked away from her, staring at his feet. his fingers tangled in his hair, looking more than a little ashamed.
“Sorry, I—...” Remy stammered, “—I missed you, while you were gone. You didn’t say where you were goin’. I thought somethin’ must’ve—”
A loud crash came from the kitchen, followed by multiple shouting voices. Whatever Remy was about it say, the words had died out in his throat, and he swung around to the kitchen tugging her along behind him.
Rogue was grateful for the distraction. If it weren’t for the loud voices in the kitchen taking Remy’s attention away, she wasn’t sure what she’d have ended up saying to him. Stupid things, like I want you to kiss me or I think I want to run away with you.
Neither of those things were good ideas. Rogue was realizing very quickly that common sense went out the window every time Remy was around.
She lingered in the doorway as Remy let go of her hand, storming into the kitchen, glaring at their friends gathered around the table. They were yelling until just a second ago, and Rogue was pretty sure she heard at least a few coarse words in the ruckus. Now they all turned to stare at Remy. Rogue had a really, very bad feeling about this.
“The hell are you all shoutin’ about?” Remy hissed, and was met with more silence. Storm was sitting at the far end of the table, her face in her hands. Logan looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Scott and Jean looked disappointed, and horribly exhausted—and Jubilee just looked guilty. If Kurt was ever here, Rogue was guessing he’d vanished as soon as the yelling started, and she didn’t much blame him.
“Time to fess up, Jubes,” Logan growled, scrubbing his face with his hand. Jubilee leapt from her seat at the table and slammed her palms down on it’s surface.
“I didn’t do it!” she shouted, throwing a napkin at Logan’s face. Rogue stifled a laugh. What had they gotten themselves into, this time?
“Do what?” Remy cursed, already fed up. If she had to guess, this wasn’t what he had imagined happening when he decided to make her a romantic dinner tonight.
“She ate all the damn croquettes,” Logan jabbed a finger at her, and Jubilee sat back down in her chair with a loud thump, glaring across the table.
“First of all, I didn’t,” she cried, “second of all, last time I checked, the food is for all of us!”
“Not when our Gambit cooks, I’m afraid,” Storm sighed, “we just also get to eat, if we’re so lucky.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jubilee said, until logan gestured to Rogue, still waiting in the doorway, and she trailed off, “oh.”
“We literally just saw you shove them all in your face, Jubilation,” Scott chided, “lying is a very bad habit, you know.”
Jubilee deflated immediately, kicking her feet under the table. Remy pinched the bridge of his nose, stifling a groan.
“Told you he’d be angry,” Logan said.
“I ain’t cookin’ for any of you ever again,” Remy hissed, barging up to the table and looking in the now empty bowl that Rogue could only assume had their dinner in it, last he checked, “I don’ care who did it. Y’all are greedy, disrespectful—”
“Now, don’t go yellin’ at them, sugah,” Rogue interrupted, and Remy turned back to her, scowling, “It doesn’t matter none. You’ll feel bad in an hour or two if you make that girl cry.”
Remy softened, looking back to Jubilee. She looked like she was going to either burst into tears or run away, and really, Rogue knew Remy could never stay angry at her. Jubes could blow up half the house and Remy would be buying her ice cream by the next morning.
“Didn’t mean to yell,” he sighed, “guess I didn’t cook enough for all of us, huh? Growin’ girls got too big of an appetite to handle.”
“Sorry, Gambit,” Jubilee mumbled, “I forgot Rogue wasn’t home, and I was really excited. You really are the best cook in the house, you know.”
Remy laughed at that, ruffling her hair before taking the dishes away and tossing them in the sink. “What’re we gon’ do now, then? We still got another hungry mouth to feed.”
“Carrots in the fridge,” Logan said, pouring another glass of whiskey for himself. Remy glared, tossing his hands in the air.
“The hell d’you think she is, a horse? You know how much she needs to eat to be kickin’ asses every day? You want her to starve?”
“No one’s trying to start a fight, Remy,” Scott sighed, “except maybe you.”
In all honesty, Rogue wasn’t even upset. She was enjoying this show more than she probably should. Remy, on the other hand, was quickly getting riled up, and no one else was being remotely helpful. At this rate, this was going to end with the house blowing up. It happened more often than you’d expect, around here.
“Ah got a better idea,” Rogue grinned, and Remy looked worriedly at her. He could always sense one of her bad ideas from a mile away, and he’d always go along with it, because what wouldn’t he do for her?
“This ain’t a dinner, chere.”
“Shush, Cajun,” Rogue smiled, “don’t you dare ruin my fun, now.”
It was easy enough to shut Remy up, when he was busy staring at her with her legs propped up on the garden table, a plate of shortcake in her lap. Despite his protests, she was happy, and that was always his weakness, wasn’t it? And he was really, obviously smitten.
She’d dragged him around the city until they found a desert shop still open this late, and now they were sitting beneath it’s awning. It was a cute little spot, with flowers and lots of prop cakes displayed in the windows. She’d walked by this place plenty of times, but it was so much prettier at night, with it’s lights illuminating the streets. And it was a lot more pleasant, with someone to share it with.
“At least eat mine, then,” Remy said, sliding his plate across the table to her, “you’ll go hungry, otherwise.”
“Ain’t much point in feedin’ me if it means you go starvin’, instead,” Rogue laughed, stealing the strawberry from his slice and popping it into her mouth. It was sweet and covered in chocolate, and tasted so much better because he was here with her. It was strange, how that worked. The world felt so much brighter, these days.
“You’ve got a real big sweet tooth, don’ you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“Sure ah do,” she said, “how’d you guess?”
“You jus’ look happy, that’s all,” Remy smiled, taking a napkin from the table and brushing it over the side of her lip, “an’ you got frosting all over your face.”
Her face heated and she swatted his hand away. “And you sure love playin’ with fire, ah swear,” she said.
“You sure you don’t want this slice? Gambit can always eat those carrots at home,” Remy grinned, and she snorted, kicking him under the table. God, he was insufferable. A part of her wanted to feed him the cake herself, and she pushed that thought away immediately.
Remy hummed, leaning over the table and glancing through the shop window. They would probably be closing up shop, soon enough. They’d gotten here just in time.
“You think this place makes those fancy wedding cakes?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the cakes in the window, “those real big ones. One of those things could keep us both fed for a week, ‘less there be any more thieves back home.”
“Think we got ourselves a whole house of thieves, Remy. They must’ve picked it up from you.”
“Can’t believe them, sometimes,” he sighed, and Rogue had to use all her strength not to laugh in his face. After all the times she’d had to drag him out of ridiculous situations, didn’t he think he was being just a little bit hypocritical?
“Did you have one of those? When you got married,” Rogue asked, and Remy blinked at her, taken aback. His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find his words.
“No,” he said, “It wasn’t that kind of weddin’. Wasn’t a very romantic affair. It was in a swamp, an’ our families were tryin’ to kill each other behind our backs. You wouldn’t have liked it, none.”
The way he said our made her stomach twist. It was so stupid, to notice it, to react that way. She was the one to ask the question. A part of her wished she hadn’t, and the rest of her wanted to ask more. She thought of how Remy had lived a whole life before her that she never had so often, sometimes it kept her up at night.
“Do you ever—” she choked, looking out at the street, “—do you ever regret it? Leavin’ home?”
Remy was quiet, then. She could feel his eyes on her even when she didn’t want to meet them. She shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t her business. But sometimes—she felt it, this memory, a longing. It was another remnant of him in her heart that she didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, not without all the pieces to make it make sense. Sometimes she saw visions of a beautiful blonde girl lying in a field, and she wondered if it was love that she was remembering.
“No,” Remy whispered, “I don’t regret it. I regret hurtin’ the people I did, maybe. But not leavin’. I don’ think about those days much, anymore. When I do—I end up seein’ everythin’ wrong with it all, in ways you can’t ever see while you’re livin’ it.”
Rogue looked back at him, fiddling with the fork in his hands, and his eyes met hers.
“Why are you askin’ me this, Anna? It ain’t worth thinkin’ about,” he said, reaching for her hand, and she pulled away. She didn’t mean to. Her head was hurting, and she didn’t know what to do with herself, like this.
“Sometimes, ah... ah still got some of your memories in my head. They’re like these flashes of feeling, an’ It’s so confusing. Sometimes, ah see you an’ Belledonna, and ah—ah feel like ah love her, but it don’t feel right. It hurts. Like ah’m reachin’ for somethin’ ah ain’t ever gonna have.”
Remy sighed, and scrubbed his hand over his face. She regretted bringing it up at all, seeing the pained look in his eyes, now. “I don’ love her anymore, if that’s what you’re askin’. I don’t know if I ever really did. Everything always felt wrong, my whole life. I was always chasin’ after love, and I couldn’t find it, no matter how much I wanted to think I did—not until I came here, that is. We ain’t so different, you know. Used to think being hurt by the people you love was normal, for a real long time.”
“Ah’m sorry, sugah, ah shouldn’t have—...”
Remy shook his head, interrupting her. “Been wonderin’ for a while if you’ve still had any of me left in there,” he said, “I probably should have asked a while ago, instead of leavin’ you try to make sense of... all this,” he gestured to himself. “If it keeps happening, you can always tell me, okay? If it confuses you, or scares you, I—... I know. It scares me too, sometimes.”
“Now that’s were you’re wrong, Remy,” Rogue said, taking hold of his hands over the table, “ain’t nothin’ in that noggin of yours to be scared of. Not to me.”
Remy visibly softened, at that. His hands squeezed hers again, in that same gentle way that felt so much like a silent I love you. “Finish your cake, chere. It’s gettin’ late.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. Her heart was feeling lighter, if just a little—but Rogue still couldn’t bring herself to let go of Remy’s hand, no matter how hard she tried. She ate the rest of her cake still holding his hand across the table, dreading the moment they’d return home and she’d have to let go, again.
The mansion had died down, by the time they’d gotten back. It was almost midnight. At some point walking back through the city, Remy’s arm had settled around her waist again, keeping her warm. She’d forgotten her coat when they left. He’d forgotten to remind her. Or, maybe he knew she didn’t need one, as long as he was around.
She liked it so much more, this way.
This was the part of the day she always hated, the time to say goodnight. It used to be so easy. She’d say goodnight to the rest of the X-men, and she’d hide away in the dark of her room, often dreaming of what it would be to not have to be alone in her bed, every night.
Now, Rogue was painfully aware that she could never have that at all. Sleeping beside another wasn’t something that was meant for her, but she never felt safe alone. He could never be safe next to her. It wasn’t fair, but nothing ever was, for her.
“You sure you’re not gon’ be sick after eatin’ all that sugar?” Remy asked from her doorway, and she knew she should laugh, but it wouldn’t come out. If only she could just stop time right now and live in this moment forever.
“There you go again,” Rogue said, “don’t you ever get tired of fussin’ over me?”
“Of you? Never,” he whispered, lowering his head. His hand reached out again, to play with the waves of hair falling over her shoulders, and her heart skipped a beat.
the tips of his fingers brushed over hers, tugging lightly on her hand. There it was again, that gentle look in his eyes that always melted her, the one that was so full of love and fear all at once. So often, Remy was afraid of hurting her. He treaded around her like she was made of glass—and in some ways, he was right. She always felt so fragile, with him.
“Can I stay with you?” he asked, squeezing her hand. It was such a simple question, and for a moment, Rogue was lost in the memory of being tangled in his arms, of the few brief times she had felt him so close, his warmth that could so easily lull her to sleep, if she only let it. Did he know, how much she wanted to be held? But Remy was a romantic fool, and he could never see how her broken edges were always sharp enough to cut. It was dangerous, just being near her. She could wake up and he’d be gone, only a shell of himself.
What would she do, then?
Remy’s fingers tightened around her hand, ever so slightly, his gaze dropping to her feet. She never could hide anything from him, could she?
“I’m not afraid of you, Anna,” he whispered, “I never have been. You... you ain’t dangerous, chere. Can’t you see that?”
“Ah am,” Rogue choked, ignoring the urge to cry stinging her eyes, “you know ah am. We can’t keep livin’ like ah’m not, because—... because ah might lose you, that way.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and welled the tears away. She wouldn’t let him see how much it hurt her to say. He was worried enough about her, as is. When she opened them again, Remy was looking back at her, a far away look in his eyes. His hands played idly with her fingers, taking a slow breath.
“Guess there’s no gettin’ through to you, huh?” he smiled a little, pulling her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss over her knuckles. He was never angry with her. Just sad, that he could see a version of herself that she never could. It hurt so much more. “Can’t blame me for tryin’. It’s a whole lot easier to sleep, next to you.”
Then he dropped her hand, and she wished so selfishly that he hadn’t, that he would refuse to listen to her and snuggle into her covers anyway, but he never would. Not Remy Lebeau. He was too kind for that. He’d keep toeing this line with her forever. He didn’t want anything else. She just wished she didn’t have to ask it of him, to begin with—it was so easy, to imagine what it would be like, if she was a normal girl, if she could love and touch like anyone else. Wouldn’t he be happier, that way? If she was different?
She couldn’t recognize this voice in her head, anymore. Was it her mother’s? her father’s? Who was it that kept telling her she wasn’t enough, when she knew all Remy was ever trying to tell her is that she was?
Remy stood from the doorway, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “I’ll make more of those croquettes tomorrow, an’ hide them from that lil’ girl so she don’ get any more bad ideas. You gon’ like them. Good food makes everythin’ easier, no? We can go to that place you like, and—”
“Ah know ah will, sugah,” Rogue smiled, cutting him off, brushing the stray hair delicately away from his face. How could she tell him it didn’t matter what they did? She’d be over the moon doing nothing all day, as long as it was with him. Remy trailed off, swallowing the rest of his words. He was looking at her again, like she was made of glass.
“I love you,” he whispered, “don’ forget.”
her breath hitched, her fingers trailing over his cheek. She did forget, sometimes. He knew she did. It wasn’t easy being loved—but he reminded her, every day, and even if she didn’t know how to trust herself—she trusted him, so much more than he could ever know. Every time he said it, for just a few moments, she believed.
“Go to bed, lover boy,” she huffed, playfully shoving at his shoulder, and Remy turned away, that sly smile on his face that she loved and hated, because it was always so tempting to kiss it off of him. He tossed a wave over his shoulder, and then he was gone, fading into the darkness of the empty hallway—and Rogue was alone, no matter how much she didn’t want to be.
Rogue slept alone every night since she was thirteen. She’d only been held by another a handful of times, and even then, she had never felt warm, before. So why was it that her bed felt so cold, this night? She’d never known anything else. it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, to be alone. She couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts in her head, too many memories.
Anna-Marie had a family name, once. For just a little while, she had a place in the world, something she thought she would have forever.
No child ever thinks their safety is temporary. No girl ever expects to be abandoned until it’s too late, until her father is screaming at her while she cowers in the corner of the living room, praying his anger now wasn’t enough to make him forget that he’d loved her, once. Praying that it would only be his words leaving bruises on her, and not his hands.
It only took one horrible day for her to lose it all. One stolen kiss, and she was never the same, no longer her father’s daughter. He threw her to the wolves, and somehow they always seemed to stay hungry, for her.
Abandonment came so easy, after that. It was a ghost that followed her no matter how far she tried to run from it. She didn’t know why she was so hard to care for, why no one ever wanted to keep her. As the years went by, loneliness became so much more familiar than love ever was. For so long, she thought love and touch were the same thing. She’d been touched, before—she could still remember what it felt like to feel rough hands on her skin, how she disappeared into the back of her mind then, how she hated the memory even now. It wouldn’t leave her. none of it ever would.
Now, she had no name left. The only name she answered to was Rogue.
She liked the way it sounded on his tongue, though. Anna-Marie. His thick Cajun accent that always sounded like a purr in his throat, just like his cats. He said it like it meant something. Maybe to Remy, it did.
Rogue knew she wasn’t alone in the dark anymore. Her ghosts had come back to haunt her, like they had so many times before. She felt their eyes on her back, a figure standing by her bedside. Fear burned under her skin, like it always did, spiders and snakes threatening to bite. She hated that it was such a familiar feeling. The moments when she didn’t feel it were so much stranger than when she did.
It wasn’t real. It was just in her head. She wanted to cry, anyway.
I love you. Don’t forget.
It wasn’t true, what she’d thought before. She’d felt warmth only in his arms. It was only then that she’d felt safe.
She wanted a name, again. She wanted so badly to be tied to someone, to have a family.
Rogue knew more than anyone that blood and names meant nothing when it came to love. Often, words didn’t mean a thing, either. Her birth parents had abandoned her. Her brother wasn’t her brother at all, in the eyes of many. She’d been promised love so many times, and it was always a lie.
it was such a stupid thing to want, when she knew it didn’t mean anything at all—but oh, she wanted it, to have a name again. She wanted it to be his. She wanted the reminder of love written into her so she could never forget again.
Rogue sat up in bed, clutching her sheets to her chest. Her fingers pulled the string of her bedside lamp, illuminating her bedroom in a soft light. Empty. Safe. She felt like she might cry if she stayed in here any longer. What on earth was she supposed to do with herself? She couldn’t even sleep alone, anymore. What would Remy do, if he knew that she just kept getting worse?
He’d look at her with those horrible sad puppy-dog eyes and he’d try to make everything better, even when he couldn’t. She wasn’t something that could be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. he knew that, too. It didn’t stop him from trying, whenever he could, to warm her from the inside out. He could never touch her, so instead, he tried to touch her heart in other ways, with freshly cooked food and gifts she never knew where he got from. Sometimes, when he could tell she was hurting inside, he would start chasing his cats around the mansion and piling them on top of her. She would be lying if she tried to say it didn’t help, that it didn’t make her laugh so much it made her stomach hurt. But it couldn’t fix her. Nothing ever could.
No, she couldn’t tell Remy about this. She would fall apart the day he eventually realized her heart was a lost cause. She did know another sweet-hearted night owl, though, who always seemed to know what to do.
Rogue was still afraid of the dark. It was such a childish thing to feel, but the terror never left. Nightmares weren’t unfamiliar to her. Her heart would race, walking these halls at night, even when she knew it was only her friends with her in these walls.
Her brother never was. He could always see light, no matter how deep they were in the darkness.
“Hey, elf,” Rogue smiled from the doorway, and saw Kurt’s bright eyes flick open in the candlelight. “Oh, gosh, did ah wake you?”
“My sister!” Kurt exclaimed, standing clumsily from his chair, almost knocking a few of his books to the floor. She had woken him up, but he didn’t seem to mind much. In seconds he was in front of her, reaching for her hands and pausing when he saw the look on her face. His hands hooked into the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and in a blink, she was stumbling backwards into the chair he had just left, and she was really, very dizzy.
“Damn it, Kurt,” she grimaced, “you gotta stop teleportin’ without warning.”
Kurt knelt down beside her, and Rogue realized she was in the candlelight, now. His hands rested over her knees and he looked sadly at her.
“You have been crying,” he whispered, and she looked away. Was it that obvious? She hadn’t wanted him to notice, but it was too late now. She should have known she couldn’t hide it from him.
“Ah wanted to talk to you,” she said, tugging her quilt a little tighter around her shoulders.
“It is about Remy,” Kurt said, furrowing his brow. Somehow, he always knew what was on her mind. Rogue nodded softly, dropping her gaze to her feet.
“Ah... ah think ah want to marry him, Kurt,” she whispered, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, “and ah feel so wrong, for it.”
“Sister,” he pleaded, pressing his hands to the sides of her face, brushing her stray tears away, “what could ever be wrong with that?”
She felt so stupid, for saying it out loud. so stupid for believing the voices in her head, when all she wanted to do was listen to his.
“Because there’s something horrid in me,” she wept, “and ah think there always will be. Ah know there’s all this love around me, but ah can’t ever feel it, can hardly even believe it. And it must hurt him, too. Knowin’ ah forget so easy. Knowin’ he can’t ever fix me. Ah feel so selfish, for wanting him to love me anyway.”
“Oh, Rogue,” Kurt whispered, “you are not selfish. you are the most selfless person I know. You are doing it now, too. You think you are harming him just by being near him, by loving him, but it is not true.” his hands dropped to hers, squeezing lightly, “It could never be true.”
“But how—... how could ah ever ask him for this? To love me forever, when ah’ve got nothin’ worth stickin’ around for?”
“Sister,” he said, smiling softly up at her, “he already does. Love is not measured in worth. You are alive, Rogue. You are not a painting, or a statue, or a crown made of gold. You are human, and you are so beautiful, for it.”
Rogue swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Ah don’t feel like it, no more. Human. Think ah used to, a long time ago, but ah can’t remember, none.”
“None of us ever do,” Kurt said, “but we are. You are everything to him. It is so obvious to everyone but you, because it is always so difficult to let yourself be loved. He was a mess when you left. You know it is bad, when Remy Lebeau is eating nothing but stale, unseasoned bread.”
She laughed abruptly through her tears, “Remy? Eatin’ stale bread?”
“Oh, yes. You didn’t know? I feared he would do something dramatic, like throw himself off a cliff or steal a spacecraft to follow you. No, he was simply tormenting himself with horrible food. It was almost worse.”
What a fool Remy was. But he was hers, wasn’t he? Even through all the fear and the confusion, he was always hers.
“Do you… do you really think he wants a forever with me? When ah can’t even touch him or say ah love you properly, half the time?”
“You know he does, sister, underneath all of this. He is not good at hiding it. I believe, if he could, he would have asked you himself a very long time ago, but the man is scared. He doesn’t think he deserves you, and because he doesn’t believe, he never will—because he cannot let himself.”
“And how are you so sure, Kurt? He always keeps his cards so close to his chest. Not even ah know what he’s thinkin’, sometimes, and ah’ve had him in my head.”
“I’ve watched the two of you act like fools for enough years to get an idea,” Kurt laughed, standing from his spot on the ground, “you cannot keep waiting for him to promise you forever. He’s too afraid of himself. Remy could keep running in circles forever and somehow convince himself he is getting somewhere. But if you asked—I don’t think he could ever say no, to an offer like that.”
Rogue shook her head, unable to keep herself from laughing, too. “That sure does sound like him,” she said, “ah swear—how can one man be so full of himself and so full of self-loathin’ at the same damn time?”
“He wouldn’t be Remy if he weren’t,” Kurt said, and if nothing else—that was true. He turned back to her with a bright twinkle in his eyes. Oh, god. She knew that look. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. “we have to go dress shopping now, don’t we? A wedding! We must make you look so stunning that he will drop dead when he sees you. What is it that you Americans say? Go big or go home?”
“Kurt,” Rogue cried, jumping from her seat and hiding again in the bundle of her quilt, “you don’t know that he’s goin’ to say yes to me. And ah... ah don’t even know if ah can ask him—without throwin’ up, at least.”
“You say that as if it’s a question,” he grinned, “you should get him a very shiny ring. He will see it and be hypnotized. It is really that easy, to win a man such as him.”
“Thanks, Kurt,” Rogue groaned, storming back to the door, “you’re so helpful.”
She shut the door on him before Kurt thought of any more helpful ideas to add to the conversation. She was never going to be able to sleep, now. She’d come away from this with only more thoughts caught up in her head.
Her? Promise Remy forever?
Oh, god, she wanted to. But could she?
Kurt was always so optimistic. He saw the best in everything—and she had to be the opposite. It was so hard to believe anything would turn out alright. Why had she gone to him, in the first place?
Had she wanted him to tell her it was hopeless? That she should just forget about it all?
Maybe she did. It would be so much easier that way.
Instead, he gave her hope, and she didn’t even have the sense to be mad at him for it.
It had been a very long time since she’d let herself hope for much of anything. Remy had planted the seeds in her heart, and now Kurt was making them grow, so much faster than they should be. Couldn’t anyone around here just let her drown in her self-pity?
No. That’s not what you do, when you love someone.
She’d brave the dark and return to her bed. The sun would rise soon enough, and the fear would leave her again, for just a little while. In the morning, she’d forget about the memories and the crawling feeling all over her skin, of the ghosts in the dark. She’d wake to Remy knocking on her door, to his cats jumping onto her bed. She’d make a cup of too hot coffee and focus on the burning sensation in her throat instead of the ache everywhere else.
She didn’t do that.
Her feet carried her the wrong way, down the hallway, up the stairs. She stopped in front of a closed door. She always recognized the scratches around the handle from when he was too drunk to open the door right, and if it were open—she’d see the familiar burn marks, from a few card tricks gone wrong. He always tried to cover them with photos or posters, but there was almost always a new burn by the end of the week. Too stubborn to listen, when she told him to practice outside.
She should go back to her room, to sleep with her demons tonight like she did every night before and would again. But Kurt was wrong, before. She was selfish.
Rogue cracked the door open, peeking her head in with the light from the hallway. She couldn’t see a thing, but she heard the faint meow of a kitten in the corner of the room, the soft sound of fabric shifting. A sweet sigh, and then sleepy red eyes were gazing at her in the dark. Her fingers tugged her quilt tighter around her shoulders, stepping into the room, the light finally reaching him. Remy rubbed at his dreary eyes with the back of his palm, making a little half-asleep sound that made her heart ache. Her feet stayed frozen by the door, waiting, waiting for him to tell her to leave, to tell her that she didn’t belong here or anywhere else, to finally make her wake up from this awful wonderful dream and remember that none of this was ever supposed to be hers.
His arm lifted the blankets up at the side of the bed, making a space just for her beside him, that she could slip in to so easily. She wrapped her quilt around herself like a cocoon, and she did, curling up next to him like it was where she was always supposed to be. His warmth enveloped her so quickly, tugging the blankets up over her in her cocoon, his arm falling over her side, squeezing her tight against him. Her racing thoughts slowed, hearing only the sound of his breathing beside her, his heart beating slowly in his chest. He still smelled like smoke.
Sleep came so easily then, and she let it take her away. She didn’t have to fight it, anymore.
She was safe.