After Midnight - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Neurotic Temptress
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 7

The familiar melody of Sesame Street’s theme song filled the hotel suite yet again, much to the regret of the adult occupants. Unfortunately, they were all at the mercy of the energetic one-year-old child who was currently singing and dancing in front of the television.

“Ya know, Ah like Burt an’ Ernie as much as th’ next civilized person,” Rogue began as she watched Rachel start up another round of her solo performance, “But there’s only so much a body can take o’ them ‘sunny days.’”

Jean grimaced and motioned to the TV screen. “You’re lucky I was able to convince her to cut it down to this small amount. Otherwise she would have brought her entire collection.”

Rogue’s eyes widened at the words ‘this small amount.’ Quickly glancing at the last shelf of the entertainment unit, she took in the sight of the numerous VHS tapes and DVDs that left little room for anything else. “An’ ‘sactly how big is Rachel’s collection back home?”

“About four times as big as this, and no doubt getting bigger as we speak. Her father has a little problem when it comes to saying no to his little girl.”

“Speakin’ o’ Scott,” Rogue turned her attention back to Jean. “Why didn’ he join us fo’ this li’l workin’ vacation ta Europe?”

“He wanted to come, but he couldn’t leave; not with Charles gone, too.”

Rogue smiled mischievously. “Poor boy’s prob’ly drivin’ himself insane, what with his ladies gone fo’ a whole two weeks!”

Jean had finally given in at the last minute and had agreed to accompany Rogue on her promotional tour. They had left the States seven days ago, first traveling to the United Kingdom and Germany before making their way to Paris, France.

“Ah wish ya’d change yoah mind an’ stay until we all go back, ‘stead o’ takin’ a commercial flight home next week.”

“I would, Dixie, but I think Rachel would miss her father too much.”

Rogue smirked, raising an eyebrow in the process. “Rachel would miss her father, or you would miss Rachel’s father?”

Jean lightly threw a pillow at her friend. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Jus’ callin’ ‘em like Ah see ‘em, sugah.”

“I’m perfectly capable of being away from my husband for a few weeks.”

“Sure ya are.” The comment was followed by a knowing grin.

Jean pointedly ignored her expression. Instead she asked, “Shouldn’t Ororo be here by now?”

Rogue checked her watch and frowned. “Yoah right, she should. Trust that girl ta always wanna make a dramatic entrance.”

“I wonder where she is. The fun-filled day of eating, shopping and general merry-making can’t commence without her.”

“If that girl stands us up, Ah swear Ah ain’t speakin’ ta her again.”

“Is that a promise?” a voice asked from the doorway.

“Row-row!” Rachel squealed in delight, spotting the newcomer first and rushing over to her as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Ororo knelt down on the carpet and embraced the little girl tightly. “It is so good to see you again, little one.” She released Rachel and then stood to greet Jean. “And you as well, my friend.”

“How long has it been, ‘Ro?” Jean smiled as they pulled out of their hug.

The other woman laughed. “Merely a couple of months, Jean, but it seems much longer.” She turned to Rogue, who had gotten up from her seat and was currently walking toward her. “As for you, young lady. Another number one record on your hands, I see.” She moved to embrace her friend.

Before Ororo’s arms could encircle her frame, Rogue took a step back. Deftly, she grabbed the fingers of her friend’s right hand and held it up for her own inspection.

“An’ jus’ what do we have here?” she asked, indicating one of her fingers.

Ororo said with mock innocence, “Why, it’s called a ring, Dixie.”

“Obviously,” replied Rogue, dryly. “A big ring. A big, diamond ring. A big, diamond ring that jus’ happens ta be on th’ ring finger o’ yoah left hand.”

“So it would seem.” Ororo grinned cattishly.

Rogue echoed Rachel’s earlier squeal of delight as she threw her arms around the older woman. “Ah’m so happy fo’ ya, ‘Ro!” She felt Jean’s arms wrap around the two of them, joining in their embrace.

The trio made their way to the balcony where lunch had been set up for them, the two younger women admiring the engagement ring on Ororo’s finger the entire time. Rachel, who had gotten over the initial excitement of seeing her other godmother again, returned to her earlier singing and dancing.

Once they were seated, Jean asked, “So, Ms. Munroe, who is the lucky man?”

“Quick and direct to the point, aren't we?” Ororo picked up her glass and smiled over the rim. “I intended to add a little suspense and mystery to the topic first.”

“Ya better not, sugah. Not if ya wanna live ta see yoah honeymoon!”

Ororo’s smile widened. It was a wonderful feeling to be among friends again. She had missed that feeling. The modeling world -- though interesting and challenging in its own right -- was filled with superficial people who were only interested in the outer shell that was presented. And although she was in no way a ditz or an airhead, as most people perceived models to be, she sometimes had trouble breaking that particular stereotype. The typical model ‘groupie’ tended to treat the girls as if they would shatter if handled too roughly. In general, the top models were cooed and babied probably just as much as her goddaughter, Rachel. At twenty-six, Ororo was one of the top ‘older’ models and definitely subject to the baby treatment, which was not at all to her liking.

“We have not seen each other in months,” she said, in way of response to Rogue’s earlier comment. “I wish to hear about the two of you.”

“Oh, now she’s jus’ stallin’ fo’ time!”

“She’s right, Ororo, let’s hear it.”

“Very well.” She took another sip from her glass to draw out their anticipation a tad longer, which earned her a dirty look from Rogue. “It is Lucas.”

Ororo rather enjoyed the mildly shocked looks that appeared on their faces after her announcement. It wasn’t often that she could get something past the two women; they simply knew each other too well to do that. So it was particularly gratifying to see their mouths agape in surprise.

“Lucas Bishop? Our Bishop? Ah mean, yoah Bishop… Ah mean…” Rogue was all but stuttering. She looked around the table. “Are we all thinkin’ ‘bout th’ same person here?”

During their days as Midnight, aside from the extensive security teams responsible for overall security, each girl had been assigned a personal bodyguard to see to her safety. Logan had been in charge of Rogue, Guido for Jean and Bishop for Ororo. When Jean had retired from the music scene, it seemed only natural for Rogue to absorb Guido into her employment. In Ororo’s case, since she was still in the public eye, Bishop continued on as her bodyguard.

However, their surprise was not on account of the employer/employee relationship, but rather because of Bishop’s personality. He had always been a gruff man with a soldier-like exterior. He was never one to express his emotions, much less fall in love, in their opinion. Bishop had been many things in his lifetime: a police officer, a one-time war hero, a secret service agent -- but a fiancé? They couldn’t imagine. Still… the idea wasn’t completely unbelievable.

“How…? When…?” asked Jean, in much the same state of shock as Rogue. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was unsure of where the relationship was going before. Now I am certain.”

“An’ how long have ya been seein’ each othah?”

“Almost a year and a half.”

“Ororo Munroe! A whole year an’ a half an’ ya didn’ think ta let yoah best friends know?”

Jean was about to point out that Rogue had done the exact same thing with regards to her relationship with Remy, when Rachel ventured out onto the balcony.

“Mama, eat,” she demanded, pointing to her mouth with the tips of her fingers.

Jean bent slightly to pick up her daughter and deposited her onto her lap. “Are you hungry now, sweetie?” She cut a small piece of meat and speared it with a fork. Eagerly, Rachel leaned forward to capture the morsel with her mouth.

Amused, Ororo watched as Rachel quickly finished her food and then demanded more from her mother. “I cannot believe how much she has grow. It has not been that long since I last saw her, but I thought for sure she would have forgotten me by now.”

Jean looked up from her task. “Honestly, ‘Ro, she probably would have if she hadn’t been going through all our old photographs together.” She kissed the top of Rachel’s head lovingly. “She looks through them like they were one of her picture books.” Looking down at the toddler, she smiled and asked, “Honey, where’s Auntie ‘Ro?”

Rachel obediently pointed to Ororo.

“Where’s Auntie Dixie?”

A small finger was raised in Rogue’s direction.

“Where’s Daddy?”

At this, she looked around thoroughly. When she was unable to locate her father, she shrugged her little shoulders and lifted her palms upward. “Dada no more.”

The carefree indifference that accompanied her statement was simply adorable, and all three women broke out into smiles.

“This one’s gonna be a charmer, that’s fo’ sure,” declared Rogue. “Jus’ like her momma.”

“And how is motherhood coming along, Jean?”

“I’ll admit Rach is a handful. Nanny Jane and I have to watch her constantly because she’s always getting herself into something, especially now that she can walk.” She feed Rachel another piece of food. “But she’s amazing. A little miracle.”

Ororo and Rogue took in the blissful expression on Jean’s face and exchanged a knowing look. Both of them were glad that Jean was so happy with her life. At the time of their breakup, they had been skeptical about how happy Jean would be being a full-time mother. After all, the spitfire redhead was well known for being a workaholic; always busy looking for the next project to undertake.

“What about you, Rogue?” Ororo teased. “When will you stop working so hard and commit to a serious relationship?”

“Oh, yoah one ta talk ‘bout workin’ hard, sugah!”

“I wouldn’t worry about her, ‘Ro,” Jean interjected. “Our little Dixie’s finally grown up.” She winked discretely at her from across the table.

Ororo’s eyebrow rose at the gesture, reading between the lines of Jean’s message. “Is that so? And who may I ask is this gentleman?”

“A Mr. Remy LeBeau. Have you heard of him, Ororo?” Jean asked, pretending that Remy was no less famous than the next person walking down the street.

Ororo’s forehead crinkled in concentration. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting his acquaintance. What exactly is his line of work?” Beside her, Rogue was silently watching the exchange, a blank expression on her face.

“I’m not quite sure,” answered Jean. “He’s involved in our former business, if I’m not mistaken.”

“All right, all right,” Rogue put in, breaking her silence and accepting her friends’ teasing good-naturedly. “Y’all done now?”

Ororo reached across the table and squeezed the younger woman’s hand. “I am happy for you, my friend.” She straightened and added, “Remy is a charming man.”

Now it was Rogue’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Ya’ve met him?”

“A few times, over the years. We occasionally run into one another at a club and talk. He has never mentioned you, though.”

“We weren’t tellin’ anyone. Ah guess he figured Ah’d wanna tell ya mahself.”

“Ku!” Rachel exclaimed, sliding down from Jean’s lap and rushing through the balcony doors, only to appear a few moments later in the arms of Kurt Wagner.

“Hello, Ororo,” he greeted, smiling warmly. “It has been a long time.”

“Yes, it has, Kurt. How are you? Still working for your troublemaker of a sister, I see.”

“Hey!” Rogue protested lightly.

“Unfortunately, yes. What can I say; it’s a family business. What with one mother her manager, another her publicist; of course, her handsome older brother would still handle the responsibilities of being her road manager.”

“I would’ve thought you’d jump ship like Ororo and I did when Midnight disbanded,” commented Jean.

“If only I had the foresight that you two lovely ladies had.” He smiled at his sister. “There’s a phone call for you on your cell, liebling.”

As Rogue excused herself and made her way into the suite, Kurt turned his attention back to Rachel, who had been transfixed by the honey-colored eyes he had inherited from Raven.

“And what do you say, Madame, at an afternoon with your Uncle Kurt while your mommy and aunts spend an obscene amount of money shopping?” He gently tickled her stomach to which she giggled and defensively pushed his hand away.

Inside the hotel room, Rogue smiled at the sound of Rachel’s laughter as she accepted the cell phone from Karen.

“Hello?” Her greeting was met by static and then silence. “Hello?” Still nothing. She was about to hang up.

“Chère?”

Remy, she thought. Aloud she said, “Sugah, Ah can barely hear you.”

“… where are ya…”

“What?”

The line cleared for a minute. “Where are ya, petite?”

“In Paris. With ‘Ro an’ Jean.” She grinned. “What’s th’ matter, Cajun? Miss me?”

“Always, chère, always.” He paused. In that moment, the static returned to the line. “… need t’talk t’ya…”

“Sugah, Ah can’t hear ya that well. Th’ line’s bad.”

“… tell ya…”

The sound of the static grew louder, successfully drowning out Remy’s voice and any hopes of a decent conversation.

“Sugah, Ah really can’t -- ” The line went dead. “Aw, hell,” she muttered, checking the battery indicator on the cell’s screen. It was halfway full, more than enough to power a long-distance phone call. It must have been the phone itself; it had been acting up the last couple of weeks since she had dropped it on the floor.

“Karen,” she said to her assistant. “Remind me ta have mah cell fixed when we get a chance.”

“Did you get cut off?” At the other woman’s nod, Karen continued, “Why don’t you use mine?” She fished into her pocket and handed the phone to her boss.

“Thanks, sugah,” Rogue said gratefully, punching in the appropriate numbers. But before she could hit the ‘Send’ button, Jean grabbed the cell away from her.

“Oh, no you don’t, Dixie,” she scolded, handing the device back to Karen. “You can talk to lover boy after our shopping excursion. God knows we’ve waited long enough, and if you get on that phone with Remy now, I’m willing to bet we’ll never be able to get you off.” She started pushing her friend toward the door. “Come on, ladies, let’s get this show on the road!”

Rogue laughed and let herself be manipulated out the door. “Now that sounds like a battle cry if evah Ah heard one. Are we packin’?”

“Charge cards all accounted for and set on maximum credit limit.”

Joining them in the corridor, Ororo declared, “You two are insane.”

“That’s th’ beauty o’ it, sugah. Insane, beautiful an’ on a mission ta shop ‘til we drop!” Linking arms with her two best friends, Rogue led them the short distance to the elevators.

“Chère?” The line was dead. “Damn,” he muttered, cursing all forms of ‘technological advancements’ that promised more convenience to the consumer, but in reality provided them with even more of a headache.

For the past two weeks since being served the legal documents, he had been trying to contact Rogue every few days without success. For the most part, he received a busy tone from her number; other times, a voice-recorded message informed him that ‘the subscriber could not be reached.’ He had tried contacting her at the various hotels he knew she would be staying at during her European tour, but his timing was always off. Today was the first time he’d actually gotten through, but it would be just his luck to have been cut off before he could tell her everything he was supposed to tell her.

Not willing to give up, he dialed the number to her current hotel, providing the front desk clerk with the alias he knew she would be using this time around. A few moments later, he was being connected to her room.

“Yes?”

“Kurt? Dat you, homme?” Remy asked, recognizing Rogue’s brother immediately. “C’n I talk t’ya sister, please?”

“I’m sorry, mein freund, but she is not here. She took the afternoon off and left to go shopping with Jean and Ororo a short while ago.”

Yeah, that’d be just his luck. “When she gets in, could ya have her call me? It’s important.”

“Of course.”

“Merci, mon ami.”

He hung up the phone and closed his eyes, this time cursing fate and its penchant for giving him a hard time. Nothing in his life ever came easy and it didn’t look as if this little hurdle was going to prove any different.

“Damn.”

“Well, you guys certainly had fun,” Karen observed as the trio returned hours later. The three bodyguards who trailed behind them were heavily burdened with shopping bags and a few boxes. “Did you leave anything for the other shoppers?”

“Prob’ly not,” replied Rogue, dumping the bags in her own hand onto the sofa. She nodded her head toward Ororo. “’Ro there can whip out her credit cards faster than most men o’ th’ wild west, Ah have ta say. Good luck with that, Bish,” she said, earning her the slightest of smiles from the man, much to her surprise.

“So says the woman who bought five pairs of shoes in one afternoon.” Ororo turned on the television set before gracefully settling herself into an armchair, resting her feet upon the matching ottoman. Idly, she flipped to an international news channel.

“In mah own defense,” Rogue rummaged through the bags, searching for certain items, “not all o’ those shoes were fo’ me.”

“You really didn’t have to buy Rachel anything, Dixie,” Jean stated, sitting down on the couch in front of the TV with Ororo. “She has more stuff than any normal kid should have as it is.”

“Please an’ a half, Jeannie! What’s th’ use o’ havin’ godmothers if they don’ spoil ya rotten?” She pulled out a small pair of pretty, white sandals and a stuffed Big Bird doll. “Karen, where’s Rach?”

“She’s in the her room with Kurt.”

Rogue disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms.

Jean turned to Ororo. “You bought things for her, too, didn’t you?”

The other woman smiled at her. “You had doubts, my friend?”

“You two are going to spoil her rotten.”

“Only for the rest of her life,” answered Ororo as a news reporter appeared on the screen.

“This just in,” he announced, glancing at a piece of paper that was handed to him. “The New York City Police Department has received a lead on the whereabouts of escaped mental patient, David Haller. A reliable source provided authorities with information that Haller has not left the city and is somewhere within the limits of New York. Haller is wanted in connection with a series of recent rape/murder cases. If you have any further information regarding this man,” a picture flashed across the screen, “please contact the New York Police Department. You should not attempt to approach him yourselves, as he is considered armed and extremely dangerous.”

“I hope they catch that guy soon,” Jean commented as the news program went on commercial break. “I hate the thought of some psycho running around loose back home.”

“He has been wanted for some time?” asked Ororo.

“I think so. They say he stalks his victims for a number of months before he murders them. And he’s already killed four women.”

“That is vile.”

Rogue emerged from the other room with Rachel in her arms, sporting new sandals and cuddling her new doll to her chest.

“Mama,” she called, waving the doll at her mother. “Bird!”

Jean turned to her daughter and smiled. “That’s nice, baby. Did Auntie Dixie get you a new toy?”

The toddler nodded vigorously as her godmother tickled her stomach lightly. Rogue then reached down and picked up the telephone receiver.

“Calling out for pizza, Dix?” Jean teased, a twinkle in her eye.

Rogue grinned, dialing. “Kurt said that Remy called again. Ah’m jus’ gonna see what’s up.”

“And you accuse me of not being able to stay away from Scott for too long?”

The news broadcast on the television continued, preventing Rogue from making any further comment.

“In the entertainment news: a paternity suit is being filed against musician, Remy LeBeau. A young woman from Los Angeles, California, Genevieve Darceneaux, is claiming that LeBeau is the father of her unborn child. Representatives from LeBeau’s camp refused to comment on the allegations. A court date has not been set at this time.

“LeBeau is also rumored to be dating fellow musician, Rogue. One source says the couple has been secretly seeing each other for the past year. LeBeau is currently wrapping up his North American tour in support of his latest release, ‘Infrequency.’”

The news report had stopped Rogue in mid-dial. The blood drained from her face and her arms suddenly felt like spaghetti. Slowly, carefully, she returned the phone to its cradle and handed Rachel to her mother. She felt light-headed, almost dizzy. She gripped the back of the sofa for support.

Ororo was instantly by her side. “Are you all right, my friend?” she asked, gently grasping her arm.

“Ah… Ah…” There were so many thoughts running through her head that she couldn’t make sense of them all. “Ah don’ know,” she admitted.

“Is there anything we can do, Dixie?” Jean asked, appearing at her other side. “Do you want to talk about it? I could call room service and get some tea sent up.”

Rogue shook her head, pulling herself away from the couch. “No. Ah… Ah think Ah jus’ need ta be alone fo’ awhile. Ta think.”

“Are you sure?”

Rogue nodded as she made her way into her bedroom and shut the door. She leaned back against the cool wood for a moment and closed her eyes, trying to push away the gnawing sensation in her gut.

Outside the room, Jean looked to Ororo. “Poor Dixie. This is terrible.” She reached for the remote to turn the television off. “I knew I had a bad feeling about that guy.”

“We cannot jump to conclusions, Jean,” Ororo reasoned. “The charges may not be true.”

“You’re right. But you have to admit, it’s not unlikely. The man has built quite the reputation for being a celebrity playboy. Well, you’ve met him, ‘Ro. What was your impression of him?”

“He was quite charming.”

“Was he flirting with a lot of women?”

Ororo thought for a moment, recalling the times she had bumped into Remy at various clubs around the world. He was certainly flirtatious, there was no doubt about that, romancing most of the women in the vicinity.

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’s the type of man that could jump from woman to woman?”

That was a question that Ororo didn’t feel she was qualified to answer. She didn’t know Remy all that well and therefore couldn’t give a very accurate response.

“I am uncertain.”

Jean sighed and looked toward the closed door of Rogue’s bedroom. “I just don’t want to see her get hurt. Not again.”

“Neither do I, my friend. Neither do I.”