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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
 
 
 

Betrayal - REVIEW THIS STORY

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

Chapter 27

Remy sipped his beer and waited. They were comfortably tucked away in one of those back corner booths at Harry's, and the waitress knew to leave them alone. Rogue sat with both hands wrapped around her mug, staring into the foam as if she might find a revelation there. She had not moved or spoken for several minutes. In fact, she hadn't said anything at all since they'd left the mansion, and Remy was beginning to wonder if she was going to. He was still willing to wait-- at least for a while longer. She had done nothing but surprise him today, so the odds were good he might get one or two more. She had certainly surprised him when she offered to ride with him on his bike. Not that she'd gotten particularly snuggly about it, but without her powers, she had seemed quite happy to hold on.

At first, he had thought it might be a come on, but Rogue was never that subtle. If she were in the mood to flirt, she tended to do so with the heat of a twelve alarm fire. He had learned long ago, however, that when she was like that, it was a sure indication that she had absolutely no intention of carrying through on her suggestions. It was only when she was at her shyest that it meant she was serious. Which was pretty normal for a young woman with zero sexual experience, he had to admit. Unfortunately, he wasn't cerain where she might be in that spectrum today. Everything she did seemed to be. . . . unconscious. He had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't trying to flirt with him at all.

*So, y' just gonna get what y' deserve f' gettin' y' hopes up too high,* he told himself sternly.

"Rogue?" he finally asked.

Rogue seemed to shake herself out of her reflections. She looked up briefly and then away. "Ah'm sorry, sugar. Ah thought ah knew what ah wanted ta say."

"Take y' time, chere. They not kickin' us out yet." It was a feeble joke, but she smiled anyway.

After a few more moments of silence, Rogue sighed and seemed to gather herself. "Well, first things first, ah guess." She looked up, meeting his gaze. An old, familiar fear filled her eyes with shadows. "Ah'm really sorry-- for everything. Ah nevah meant ta hurt ya. . . "

Remy was about to protest, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. "An' ah don't mean mah powers. Ah'm sorry ah ran away, an' that ah tried ta blame ya for everything when it really wasn't evah about you. It was about me." The fear was still in her eyes, but she had it under control. Remy couldn't help but admire her, even as he tried to listen. The courage he was seeing in her now was one of the things that had attracted him, even in the beginning.

"Ah still don't remember what happened to ya in Seattle." That got his full attention and knotted his stomach into a tiny ball. *Any* mention of Seattle made him nervous. "An' ah suppose it doesn't really mattah." He began to relax a little as the meaning of her words sank in. "Ah hope someday ya'll tell me, because ah know how much it's eatin' at ya, but ah've got things in mah past, too, that ah'd rather just bury and forget." Her gaze begged him to believe.

Remy wasn't certain. "What about not bein' able t' trust me?" That's what she'd said in Seattle. That she'd never be able to trust him because of what he'd done there.

Rogue looked away. "Ah trust ya-- who ya are today, at least."

She looked back at him as she qualified the statement. "Ah think, if ah'd met ya before ya were in the X-men, ah probably wouldn't a been able ta stand ya. But if y'all are willin' ta live with that, ah can, too."

Remy had to think on that one for a minute. What she said hurt, as much as he knew it was the truth. But she had been inside his head-- she *knew* what kind of a man he had been, and she didn't like him any more than Remy himself did. By agreeing, he would be admitting that she was right about him-- about his past. He didn't want to do that.

*Don' be a fool, boy,* he told himself. *She knows. Nothin' y' c'n say gonna change that.* But it took a big chink out of his pride to admit it to her.

"I c'n live wit it, chere." Rogue was worth more than his pride.

Her answering smile was brief, but warm. When it was gone, the shadow-fear in her eyes took hold once again. There was still more she wanted to say.

"Ah hope ya know that when ah left, ah wasn't really runnin' away from *you*. Ah was tryin' ta run away from mahself, even though Ah didn't know exactly why at the time."

Remy shrugged. "I figured it was some o' both."

Rogue was running one finger around the rim of her mug absently as she spoke. "Do ya remember when ah said ah couldn't stand ta live knowin' ah could nevah kiss ya again?" She stared at her hand circling the glass.

Like he would forget! Every word of their conversation was etched into his memory. "Oui, chere."

Her hand left the mug, fluttered to her throat and the heavy collar. "Even then, ah knew, subconsciously at least, that it was because *ah* couldn't. Not because it wasn't possible." She let her hand fall to the table. Remy knew he could easily reach out and take it in his own, but wasn't certain if he should.

"What changed y' mind?" he asked.

Scarlet crept up her cheeks. "Ah. . . . don't-- ah. . . .it was. . . the Witness." Her eyes darted to his face, as if she were frightened what his reaction might be. It wasn't the best.

"The Witness! What'd he tell you?" His reaction surprised Remy almost as much as it did Rogue. Why did the idea of her talking to the Witness make him angry?

"Remy!" Rogue looked like she was wondering the same thing. The people sitting a few tables away looked over at the sudden outburst, silencing them both.

"He told me the truth," Rogue continued quietly when it seemed like they had privacy again. "That it wasn't mah powers that kept me away from people." Her expression turned sour. "Y'know, it's funny. The professah an' Logan an' Storm, an' a lot of other people, have told me the same thing in their own ways. But ah nevah believed it `til it was *you* tellin' me."

"De Witness is *not* me!" Remy brought his fist down on the table with enough force to rattle their glasses. The people at the other table looked their way again, murmuring quietly among themselves. This time Remy didn't care if he was making a scene.

To have *Rogue* tieing him in to the Witness-- believing that he had some connection to the murders of the X-men-- was more than he could stand.

"Take it easy, sugar." Rogue's tone was placating. "Ah'm sorry. Ah wasn't tryin' ta upset ya."

Remy forced himself to calm down. It wasn't Rogue he was angry at, really, and it would be incredibly stupid to antagonize her over something that wasn't her fault.

"It's o.k., chere. I'm sorry. I. . . didn' mean t' blow up at y' like dat."

She smiled reassuringly. "Boy sure does get under ya skin." There was a hint of tease in her expression. "But ah guess ah can't blame ya fo' that one. Ah don't think ah'd like it much either. Is that why ya erased him?"

This time, it was Remy who looked away. How could he explain? He risked a glance at her. Rogue watched him with a mixture of concern, hope and curiosity. But underneath that lay another emotion-- a quiet fear. Fear that he wouldn't tell her, that this would be another Seattle-- another piece of his life that he wasn't willing to share with her. Remy knew that he could wreck everything by not telling her, and that thought scared him as much as anything ever had.

"It jus' seems like every time I turn `round, somebody's tryin' t' tell me dat I know somet'ing `bout de X-men dyin'. Dat it's my fault somehow. But I don' know nothin'! I swear it!" He stared into her eyes, desperate to know if she believed him. Her gaze was clear, but there were still traces of suspicion, as if she wanted to believe him, but couldn't quite-- not completely. Remy felt like he'd been gut-shot. Then the pain turned to anger.

"I'd let de Professor deep scan me if I t'ought it do any good t' convince ya, chere." Remy knew the words came out cold. "But even dat not do any good, eh? Everybody always be wonderin' if I didn' hide somet'ing from him-- bein' as I'm a telepath an' all."

Remy could see his sarcasm cutting her. The hurt was reflected in her face. But he didn't have control of his anger anymore, and the words continued.

"An' y'know what de really rotten part is, chere? De Witness knows I don' know nothin'. He says *dat's* what's gonna get de X-men killed. So it don' much matter if I know anyt'ing `bout it or not. De X-men are jus' screwed-- an' dere's not a t'ing I c'n do `bout it."

Remy sat back, arms crossed. He felt cold inside. His anger was draining away, leaving only the fear and pain. Tears glimmered in Rogue's eyes, and she bit her lip in an effort not to cry. Remy knew it was unfair to dump everything on her when it wasn't her fault. He knew he'd hurt her, and hated himself for it. But he didn't know how to undo it and take back what he'd said. He didn't even know if he wanted to. For all that she'd *said* she trusted him, she still didn't-- not really. Wasn't it better to know the truth than to live with the lie? Except that the truth hurt a lot more than the lies.

Rogue pushed her mug aside until it rested against the wall. Then she did the same to his, leaving nothing on the table between them except for some water condensed off of their glasses. Remy watched her without really registering what she was doing. It hardly mattered now-- she would be leaving soon. As if on cue, Rogue started to rise. But instead of getting to her feet, she climbed across the table on hands and knees, ducking to avoid the low hung lamp, and then slithered off the table and into his lap. It wasn't a very graceful maneuver, and Remy caught her mostly by reflex, too startled for anything more. As if they were a long way away, he heard the surprised laughter of the people at the other table.

Rogue grabbed the collar of his jacket in both hands. Her face was only inches from his-- so close that he could almost smell the salt in the tears that had begun to track down her face. Her expression was intense, but Remy couldn't identify the emotion.

"Now, ya listen here, Cajun," she began. Her voice was ragged. "Ah'm sorry fo' all the hurtin' ah've done ya. An' ah'm sorry ah've been such a fool all these years. An', yes, all this stuff goin' on with the Witness an' the X-men dyin' scares me ta blue blazes." Her grip tightened. "But ah *don't*-- not fo' one instant-- believe ya got any intentions a hurtin' the X-men. Ah know ya too well fo' that." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. She had read his soul once.

Warm relief rushed through Remy, followed by shame for how he had treated her. And mixed in with all of that was a new warmth, born of her confidence in him. Remy pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair, telling her again and again just how sorry he was. Rogue shushed him and returned the hug enthusiastically.

A smattering of applause and cheers from the people at the other table set them both to laughing in embarrassment. When they turned to look, several of them raised their glasses in a toast.

"Maybe we should go, chere," Remy suggested. Rogue agreed with a mischievous smile. Comments to the bartender about the quality of the "entertainment" followed them out the door. For once, they were both content to let someone else have the last word, though it was a while before the color faded from Rogue's cheeks.

The ride back was quiet and comfortable. They said little, but Rogue's arms were wrapped about his waist, and she rested her cheek against his back. Remy found he was loathe to return to the mansion. There were too many people there, friends who would want to hear all about Rogue's decision-- people who would want to be there to encourage her. Remy didn't really want to surrender her company just yet. A familiar turn in the road sparked an idea.

"Hang on, chere," he told her. "Rough road."

"Ah remember," she answered as he pulled off of the pavement only a dirt track that led away into the woods. The late afternoon sun colored everything with a hint of orange as he maneuvered the bike over the uneven terrain. His Harley wasn't meant to be an off road vehicle, but he was a skilled enough driver that it didn't matter. Their course climbed steadily into the gently rolling countryside until they reached the crest of a particular hill. It rose well above the surrounding area, and was bare of trees at the top, giving them an excellent view of both the pastoral New York countryside and the darkening sky.

Remy parked the bike and settled sideways on it, using it more as something to lean against than as a chair. Rogue stood in front of him and leaned back into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. Together they watched the skies fill with fiery orange and red and pink, and eventually fade into darkening shades of blue. Remy had never been much on admiring sunsets, but he knew how much Rogue loved them, and he was perfectly content to stay there, with his arms wrapped around her waist and her fingers twined with his, for as long as she wanted.

After a while, she sighed contentedly. "Ah love sunsets."

Remy smiled. "Y' say dat every time we come here." It almost seemed like the intervening months had never happened.

Rogue turned to look at him. She was smiling. "Ah guess ah do, don't ah."

She was so close, her eyes reflecting the last of the sky's glory. Remy didn't even think. He leaned forward that last little bit to kiss her. Rogue went completely rigid the moment their lips touched. Remy backed off, his earlier joy suddenly drowning in confusion.

"Sorry chere--"

"No." Her fingers cupped his cheek. "Ah. . . . it. . . . ya just took me by surprise, is all." Slowly she was relaxing against him again. Her smile was nervous, but full of promise. "Ah'll get better at this," she told him.

Remy grinned at her. He couldn't help it. "`Course, chere. Jus' need some practice. . . ." he suggested. Then he suited action to words and kissed her again. She twitched at the moment of contact, but didn't pull away. She laughed a little as they parted.

"*Lots* a practice," she murmured playfully.

 

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