Betrayal - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 25

Dust sifted down onto Rogue's face as she jostled the pile of boxes and she sneezed violently. *Bless ya,* she thought reflexively, and then *Mah goodness but this place is a mess!* She was in the basement storage area, where fifteen years of X-men junk had gathered-- odds and ends from their various missions. Most of the boxes she saw were labelled with the mission location-- Moscow, Savage Land, Cincinnati. She chucked to herself. Now there was a romantic location. What in the world had the X-men been doing in Cincinnati? She was tempted to get the box down, but resisted. That wasn't why she had come.

She continued to search through the stacked boxes until she found the one she wanted. "Genosha" was scrawled across the side in green marker. Rogue paused. Memories flitted through her mind. Genosha had been a hellish place, and she had suffered plenty during her times there. She pushed the thoughts away. What she wanted was in that box.

She lifted it down easily and flipped back the cardboard flaps. After a moment of searching, she came up with what she wanted-- one of the slave collars. There were several more that she could see, but for now her attention was completely absorbed by the one she held in her hands.

Rogue settled to the ground and put her back against the stacked boxes. She rested her arms on her drawn-up knees and considered the collar, turning it over in her hands. She flipped the activation switch and the lights that decorated it winked on. Then she turned it off.

*Have ya evah considered just how *many* ways there are ta get around ya powers?* she asked herself. The question had been haunting her, as had the memory of the Witness' kiss, made even more bittersweet now that he was gone. Especially in the dark hours of the night, when she could find nothing to fill her mind with and crowd the questions out. How many tears of anger and frustration had she shed before finally admitting that no, she never had. Never had considered how it might be possible to live a normal life, free of her mutant powers. But now here she was, staring at one of those ways. She was holding it in her hands, and all she had to do was put it on.

*Ya got that much courage, gal?* she asked herself. Courage enough to admit that she'd brought most of her misery on herself, that she'd shut out everyone that had ever tried to help her-- everyone that had ever tried to love her? Could she leave the armor of her powers behind and be ready to accept whatever emotional wounds life threw at her? Was that a risk worth taking?

Memory drew Rogue back to the wedding-- Scott and Jean's. She remembered how much it had hurt to watch them pledge their lives to each other, certain that she would never be able to do the same. Every word had felt like a dagger of ice in her heart, and yet, she couldn't help but be happy for them. She had watched enviously as they talked to each other that night. There had been no hesitation in them, no fear-- just confidence and joy. It hadn't occured to Rogue until much later that what she had really seen was two people who would be happy to sacrifice themselves for each other-- and *that* was the true source of their confidence in their love.

Now it was Rogue's turn to ask herself how much *she* was willing to sacrifice to have the life she wanted. Remy had been willing to sacrifice his life and soul for a taste of her love, that day in Israel. She had absorbed that from him along with everything else. And he had been willing to do it again in Seattle. That was why Rogue had run. She knew she couldn't give him the same in return. She couldn't sacrifice that much of herself.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slid down her face. The choice was hers, and she knew it. She couldn't avoid it any longer. If she put the collar away now, she would be sealing herself into a life of loneliness, but a safe life where she would not risk losing herself. If she put it on. . . . she couldn't even begin to guess what might happen. She would have to cope with life as it came, and if it was more than she could bear. . . . she would just be lost. The decision was her to make-- now.

Taking a deep breath, she depressed the latch button on the collar and pulled. Nothing happened. The collar was locked, and she didn't have a key. She searched the contents of the box carefully but found nothing. Then she settled to the ground once again and contemplated the device in her hands. It seemed to stare back at her with the calm defiance of all inanimate objects. The absurdity of the situation hit Rogue in that instant, and she reacted the only way she could-- she began to laugh.

"Hey, Remy, can ah talk to ya?"

The casual question caught Remy completely by surprise. He turned to find Rogue walking up behind him. She had just stepped out of the elevator into the first floor hall, and carried a heavy-looking loop of metal in one hand.

"Sure, chere." He was half tempted to refuse, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. She was never this friendly.

Rogue held up the loop of metal, offering it to him. Remy's surprise doubled. It was a Genoshan slave collar. A mutant power suppression device. Stunned, he took it from her, knowing that his feelings had to be showing on his face. Rogue didn't seem to notice.

"Can ya pick the lock on this thing?" she asked.

A hundred questions raced through his mind, but he forced himself to look at the lock. *Stick t' business, Remy,* he told himself. *It de only safe ground y' got.* The locking mechanism was intricate-- one of the best Remy had ever seen, at least on that small a scale.

"Oui. But it take some time."

Rogue smiled. "That's all right." She seemed a little embarrased. "Ah can't get it open without breakin' it an' ah really didn't want to put the thing on `til ah knew someone was going to be able t' get it off again."

"You plannin' t' *wear* it, girl?" Remy felt like the world had suddenly turned sideways on him. This simply could not be the Rogue he knew.

Rogue ducked her head and chewed on her lip for a moment. "Did ya know we have six a these gizmos down in the basement? Just sittin' there collectin' dust." She fidgited uncomfortably. "Ah figured ah ought t' put `em to good use."

Remy wasn't sure what to say. *Stick t' business,* he reminded himself. "If y' gon' wear it, y' wan' me t' just dismantle de lock? Den y' won' have t' worry `bout it."

Excitement brightened her expression. "Can ya do that?"

"`Course. My tools're upstairs." Remy found himself leading the way to his room, his gut in a knot. Rogue followed him, blithely unaware of how he felt, for all that he could tell. She seemed-- happy, suddenly. Secure, for the first time since he'd met her, and completely unafraid. The sudden change was disturbing, for all that it seemed like a good thing. But it left him feeling very, very confused.

His workbench was its usual cluttered mess, though that was the only part of the room that wasn't neat. Remy had never been careless with his posessions-- he liked nice things and was careful to keep them that way. He crossed to the bench and set the collar down on it. He pulled a hard black case out from under a pile that had, until recently, been a carburetor. His tools were in the case, carefully clamped in their places on the velvet lining. It was nearly a quarter million dollars in highly specialized equipment, but Remy had found that the difference between making the pinch and getting caught was sometimes nothing more than the quality of the tools you used. He pulled out the things he knew he'd need, and set to work. Rogue perched on the edge of his bed, watching. She didn't say anything, and Remy had to keep biting his tongue to keep from asking the inevitable questions. *Stick t' business*, he told himself. It had become a mantra, and he repeated it over and over to himself as he worked.

Eventually, he had the tiny mechanism disabled. He opened and closed the collar a few times to be sure.

"Dis t'ing light up like a Christmas tree when y' close de circuit," he told Rogue. The collar had several sets of lights that flashed when it was activated. "Y' wan' me t' take care o' dose, too?"

Rogue nodded. "Thanks, sugar."

A simple interrupt took care of the lights. Remy checked the circuit integrity just to be sure he hadn't made a mistake. The needle on the meter pegged the far side as soon as he attached it. The circuit was whole. He handed it to Rogue and stepped back warily.

Rogue stared at the collar in her hands for several moments. Then she took a deep breath and closed it around her throat. The latch snicked into place with a sense of finality. She left her hands there for a time, and then let them fall to her sides. Her gaze was clear, the green eyes just as beautiful as Remy remembered.

Remy gathered his courage. "Acid test, chere?" He held out his hand. He hadn't worn gloves today. It was a moment of deja vu. Remy was drawn back to Seattle, standing on the street in the midst of the wreckage of that old, hated theatre, and making the same offer. She had refused him then, and a terrified corner of his mind whispered that she would refuse again-- would leave again. Would steal his heart, again.

Slowly, Rogue removed her gloves and dropped them, one by one, to the floor. Then she reached toward him, fingers trembling. The confidence he had seen in her had given way. Tears glimmered in her eyes, though whether they were from fear or pain or joy, he couldn't tell.

Remy's breath caught in his throat. Rogue's touch was as light as a butterfly's, and as fleeting. But she came back when he didn't move, this time with more certainty. She rested her fingers on his, eyes wide as she stared at the connection. When nothing happened, she began to smile. Slowly her smile broadened until her face was filled with nothing but incredulous joy.

"It works. . ." she breathed.

"Oui, chere." Remy was completely entranced. He didn't dare move. He was afraid she might simply disappear into his dreams.

Rogue broke the spell. She clapped both hands to her mouth, gasping, as if she had just realized something. "Ah'm free!" She threw her arms up toward the ceiling and did a pirouette, laughing.

"Can ya believe it, Remy? Ah'm free!"

She did another pirouette and hugged him. "Thank ya *so* much!"

Remy held on to her as she stepped back. He had too many questions to just let her go. Rogue stopped when she felt the restriction. Her hands still rested on his shoulders, but her smile was fading.

"Y' wan' t' tell me what's goin' on, chere?" he asked.

Her expression turned rueful. "Ah will, sugar. Ah owe ya that much." She looked around. "But can we go someplace else?" She sounded sheepish, as if she were a little ashamed that being in his bedroom made her uncomfortable.

Remy grinned at her expression. This was the Rogue that he knew.

"Harry's?" he suggested.

She cocked her head, considering. Then she nodded. "Sounds good. Ah'll even buy." Her smile had returned.

They left together. Remy wasn't sure what he dared hope for, or even what he wanted. For the moment, it was enough to know that she was willing to talk, and that, at the very least, some scraps of their friendship still survived. Who could say? Maybe things could even go back to the way they were. A flash of green caught his eye as he closed the door behind them. Rogue's gloves still lay on the floor, next to his bed. He took it as an omen. Things would never be the same between them-- for good or bad. And he didn't know what the chances were that they might become something better.