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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 42

Rogue stood uncertainly in the doorway to the mansion's rec room. The only light came from the television, which was playing some awful late-night, black and white monster movie. The volume was fairly high, and between the creature's growls and the hordes of running, screaming people, the two sprawled in front of the TV hadn't yet noticed her. Rogue debated whether to go in or just get to her room from the outside. She really didn't want to stop and talk-- she was close enough to losing her nerve already. But she also didn't want to do any more flying. The night was so pitch black tonight that she'd had some trouble navigating. She'd actually missed the house on her way in and overshot by almost a hundred miles. The lights of civilization weren't such a good guide when she couldn't see the landscape that went with them. Still, it would only be a short hop up to her window.

"Well, the prodigal returns." Hank grinned at her over the back of the couch. "Welcome home, Rogue."

She summoned a smile. "Hi, Hank."

Bobby hopped up off of the other couch and then stood staring at her, hands in his pockets, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Hi, Bobby," she suggested when he remained silent.

He smiled a bit sheepishly. "Hi."

Rogue turned back to Hank. "Is Remy here?" She tried to sound casual, and knew she failed miserably.

"I believe so." Hank had the grace not to smile.

"Thanks." She headed toward the stairs, grateful for the mercifully short conversation.

"Rogue, I--" That was Bobby. She turned to face him.

"What, sugar?"

He paused. "I-- Nothing. Just be careful, o.k.?"

"Careful?" Rogue shook her head. "Ah don't want ta be careful," she told him plainly. "Ah want ta be happy." And to his expression, she could only add, "Ah love him."

Bobby caught her arm. "How? After everything he's done to you?"

Rogue put her other hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Sometimes, sugar, ya just have ta believe." With that, she left them and headed upstairs. There was something she had to do.

Remy woke suddenly, unable to identify the thing that had alerted him. The room was pitch black in the moonless night- even his sensitive eyes could distinguish little. Adrenaline slid through his veins, but he forced himself to remain still and breathe evenly. It was a long-time habit that he relied on to give his sleep-fuzzed mind time to react. Unfortunately, he didn't have much time. His mutant power felt the motion as hands reached toward him from behind his shoulder. Still half-asleep, Remy rolled toward his attacker, using both hand and foot to throw the bed covers at him. Then he dove at him, using his speed to get inside the other's guard while he was entangled with the blankets. Remy's shoulder struck the other squarely in the chest and they fell to ground together. His assailant let out a grunt of pain as they landed. Remy grabbed for his wrists, pressing them to the hardwood floor and digging his thumbs into the soft flesh of the inner wrist to force him to release any weapon he might be holding. It was so dark that he couldn't tell by sight. He could see nothing but a dark blur where the other was.

Remy was fully awake by the time he came to rest with the other pinned beneath him. At that point, he realized two things: One, his attacker was female. The body beneath his was softly rounded in all of the appropriate places. And two, she was quiet in his grasp, as if she had no intention of struggling with him. He had just opened his mouth to say something about it when a voice came out of the darkness.

"Ya sure have a unique way a sayin' hello, sugah."

Remy felt his jaw drop. ". . . . . . Rogue?" He slacked his grip on her wrists.

Her voice colored with laughter. "In the flesh."

"But. . . . you left." Remy felt entirely lost. He had accepted-- somewhat-- the idea that Rogue was gone and would not be coming back. That he had driven her away completely this time. To have her suddenly reappear shook him.

Rogue sighed and pulled one hand out of his grasp. Her fingers came to rest on the back of his neck. "Ah had ta do some thinkin'."

Almost absently, she stroked his hair.

Remy wished he could see her face. The lamp on the bedside table was out of his reach, and he had the sudden, irrational fear that if he left her to find the light, she would simply evaporate into his dreams. As long as he was touching her, she remained solid and real in his grasp. He could only listen to her voice and let memory fill in what his eyes could not. And that voice was subdued, with a hint of deep sadness buried within it.

That hurt was entirely his fault. He hung his head, feeling the shame like tight bands across his chest, until it seemed like he could barely breathe. His hair brushed her face, even tangled a bit with her eyelashes so that he could feel the tiny tug each time she blinked.

She put both hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were dark pits in the pale blur of her face, but Remy could imaging the expression there.

"When. . . . when I started to remember," she said slowly, "ah felt angry and ashamed and scared-- and so alone ah thought ah'd die. So ah ran away." She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "It took me a long time ta realize that it wasn't me feelin' that way. . . . . . It was you."

The compassion in her voice took Remy's breath away. She understood. She really understood. She knew every dark secret he had, everything he'd done, and she'd come back anyway. Hot tears filled his eyes, escaping even though he clenched the lids tightly closed. He began to tremble, unable to hold back the sobs. In one short moment, Rogue had snapped the tight bands around his heart. It was like taking a deep breath of the sweetest air in the world. He buried his face against her neck and wrapped his arms tightly around her until he could feel her ribs expanding with every breath.

Rogue said nothing more, but simply held him while he cried. It was a kind of release Remy had never known before. He had always locked the pain away, crushed it down inside himself with such force that now it hurt to let go of it. Sobs racked him, and he held on to Rogue as if she were the only anchor in a storm-thrown sea. But slowly the hurt drained away, and left behind a sort of gaping emptiness where it had been. Still, as the tears began to dry, he realized that the emptiness he felt was not a bad thing, really. It was empty, yes, but. . . . clean.

The last of his tension drained away. He was oddly exhausted, yet content. Rogue radiated a comforting gentle warmth that he could feel even through the fabric of his shirt.

They lay like that on the floor for a long time, without speaking. Nothing needed to be said. But eventually, Rogue broke the silence.

"Remy?"

He lifted his head. "What, chere?"

"This floor is really cold."

Remy couldn't help it. He busted out laughing and kissed her.

"Would de bed be better?" he asked.

"Much." She was laughing, too. Remy got to his feet and then scooped her up, carried her to the bed and set her gently down on it. He turned the light on then, wanting to see her face. He found himself staring into her deep green eyes, and feeling somewhat at a loss.

Rogue sat on his bed and tucked her toes beneath her shyly, but her grin deepened as she read his uncertainty. She patted the spot beside her. "Remy LeBeau, tell me ya ain't goin' shy on me."

Laughing, he settled next to her and twined his fingers into hers.

"Y'know, dat really isn' m' name."

She grew suddenly solemn, her gaze fastened on their joined hands.

Remy watched her in concern. "Rogue?"

She looked up at him. "Tamara," she said softly.

"`Scuse me?"

"Tamara. It's my name." There was a hint of playfulness in her voice.

Remy blinked in surprise at the revelation. "Really? Dat's pretty."

"Don't sound so shocked. What were you expecting?"

"I dunno. Betty Lou, maybe?"

She smacked him in the shoulder with her open palm in mock outrage. "Ah oughtta leave right now after that crack." She started to get up, but Remy pulled her back down beside him.

"Y' not gettin' away from me dat easy, chere."

Her face lit with a familiar wicked grin. "Ya think ya got what it takes ta keep me here, Cajun?"

Remy felt a smile spread across his face, and his gut tightened at the challenge. He knew she wasn't talking about here, tonight, but here, together, for the rest of their lives. It was that same exhilarating feeling he got when he was in the middle of a tricky pinch-- right on the edge of getting caught and pushing it for all it was worth. And the amazing thing with this was that he had no doubt whatsoever that he would win.

A hundred replied fled through his mind, but instead of words, he answered her the only way a wise man could.

 

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