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Chapter 1

Do You Remember? - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Maggie the Cat
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 1

It was a long time ago. So long I think we've both shoved it behind us, tamped it down, locked it away. Perhaps we both take the adage "Never look back" too seriously. Perhaps we've both learned that the past is full of "lost happiness and lasting pain", eh, old friend?

You would laugh at my melodrama, even if you didn't recognize the verse as being Milton. Do you remember? You could always jolly me out of my...stone-set seriousness with your silly teasing.

"Stormy", indeed.

Two thieves in the Big Easy, doing what we had to in order to get by. Eating Tante Angele's gumbo in the Vieux Carre, walking along Lake Ponchatrain in the warm clinging heat of the Louisiana midday, stopping at the little clubs and restaurants all along the French Quarter. So long ago, ma cher...and you were the only one in my world then. I had nobody and you took me in, under that foolish trench coat you still insist upon wearing, never knowing who or what I was and what kind of life I would lead you to.

...You are a good man. Believe that, if you believe in nothing else.

I know it's hard now, with all the incriminations and accusations and the cold way you were condemned for your mistakes. I'm not absolving myself; I was as guilty as any of the others when it came to turning my back on you.

Do you remember that concert Lila Cheney gave in Central Park? At which the Professor was nearly assassinated? I'm certain that you do--you have a rogue's memor-

Perhaps that was an unfortunate choice of words. I am sorry.

We waltzed under the trees as they sent dry red leaves spinning down around us, an autumn festival all our own. Waltzing to rock music because...what was it you said, in that insufferably charming manner that you perfected before you were ten years old?

"It's the only dance step this Cajun knows."

And now look at us. So distant that it is as if we never met, never shared those blissfully simple sweltering days in New Orleans or the constant ups-and-downs of being X-Men.

I miss you, my friend. I thought that you had found a better life here, among us, instead of ducking and running and looking constantly over your shoulder for the next surreptitious attack from one Guild or the other. I thought that you had found love with Rogue.

"Yeah, I t'ought I found love too, chere," you'd say, no doubt.

I know you, Remy. You could say that in a roundabout, technical sort of way, that I've known you since I was a child.

I've loved you since I was a child.

Despite the fact that I am a grown woman and completely self-sufficient, I will grudgingly admit--to you--that I have never had many close friends. I suppose that there is a solitary, closed streak in my nature which precludes my having such. There are a few--I'm not a recluse, after all...Jean, Logan, Yukio...and you.

Let's try to find our way back to what we had then, Remy. It was such a warm, comforting feeling to know that you were watching my back no matter what, that you accepted me and understood me and loved me all the same. Do you remember?

I do.


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