fateandfortune | A New Start [For Remy LeBeau]

A New Start [For Remy LeBeau]

It had been an extremely eventful twenty-four hours in Rogue’s life. Possibly the most so since her mutation manifested over a decade earlier. She’d been rescued from the lab by Erik and Bobby, helped to reset the timeline and stop the Sentinel War from ever happening, and she’d been dropped into the middle of... an apartment?

It didn't make sense. She'd shut her eyes against the heat of the Sentinels' blasts, hoping and praying to whatever might be listening that this would work, that they would have this second chance-- And then she'd opened her eyes to this place. The apartment wasn't one she recognized, but there was something about it that was almost familiar. Maybe it was the decor, or the general state of it, but some part of her felt oddly at home there.

Someone else was at home too, though, based on the sound of the shower running in the other room. Carefully climbing off the floor, Rogue looked around the room she was in, taking in the assortment of objects until her gaze settled on the desk. She moved closer, picked up a few of the papers scattered across it, and frowned at the scribbles of students that looked to be half-graded. The sight of them churned up a wave of painful nostalgia and homesickness and she had to set them down before she really began to lose it.

A buzzing from a cellphone caught her attention. After half a second's hesitation, she picked it up, noticing the preview of the message that left her feeling cold. Thanks for listening. From "Rogue". From... herself?

No. No, that didn't make sense. If their plan had worked, she wasn't supposed to remember anything of her old life. They were all supposed to just wake up and be in their new lives, in a hopefully much better world than the one they'd left. And if the plan hadn't worked, then why wasn't she dead? And where the hell was she?

It was without any conscious thought that she moved over to the window, leaning in to peer at the world outside. A world that was whole, with buildings still standing tall and people walking on the streets as they went about their daily lives. It was a normal world that wasn't full of death and destruction. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

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It wasn't at all surprising in her mind just how much she knew about Remy, but it was understandable that it might be to this man. He had no idea just what she'd been through, what had happened with her husband that had led to her being able to know him so well even after his death. She didn't Remy for his habits and patterns anymore, she simply accepted them for what they were.

"Because I know Remy LeBeau," she answered simply. "Half the time we went to those fancy shindigs, he had something he was working on the side. Sometimes it involved the host, sometimes it was a guest, but the last few years it all had to do with stealing secrets for the war."

She didn't know what the circumstances were for this particular job, and she wasn't going to ask. Yet.

Now wasn't that a mighty fine state of affairs? Aside from the whole benefiting a war effort and all, being able to exorcise that particular muscle and still be in the service of the X-Men was a dream come true for the Cajun. Figures it'd have one hell of a draw back. Rogue being a part of it, though, instead of a judge of the behavior...that was something he wouldn't mind having in his life.

He wondered if his Anna could ever condone such behavior. He was guessing probably not.

He offered her a smile, and it was one of pride, though even to him, that seemed strange. He was proud of himself. "Good ta know he was able ta put it ta some use, non?"

Her own smile matched his, full of pride in the man her husband had been. He'd come so far in the years she'd known him, and she was a better person for having had him in her life.

"He really was," she confirmed with a nod. "We were a team. If it was physical information, he took care of it, and I handled getting everything else." She took a shuttered breath, her smile fading. "We got the job done. Every time." And he'd never been afraid of her, not once.

He reached out, almost without thinking, to take her gloved hand in his own, to give it a gentle squeeze of comfort and warmth in a time of clear mental turmoil. He didn't let his smile fade, instead turning it mischievous as he looked over to her.

"Sho' nuff, you did. Ain' nothin' we can' handle, non?"

Oh, Remy. It didn't matter which version of him, he was still one of the sweetest men she'd ever met. Thinking of all the years she'd spent fighting his affection, not able to believe that someone like him could actually care for her -- it was heartbreaking. All that time they could have been together had been wasted on her insecurities and stubbornness. It was something she would never forgive herself for.

"You've got that right, swamp rat," she agreed, giving his hand a squeeze in return. A pause, and then she smiled at him again and asked, "So where's this place with the amazing coffee? You did say it was amazing, right?"

He smiled, chuckling slightly as he rounded a corner the next block. It was more secluded here, minutely at least, and the scent of the coffee shop was carried on the wind as it moved in their direction. "Well, it ain' no Cafe du Monde, but it'll pass for de north, non?"

He moved his hand to the small of her back as he approached the door and used the other to open it for her. "After you."

Cafe du Monde. Even just a mention of the name brought forth a swell of memories. The first time she'd been to New Orleans to meet his family and they'd stopped by the cafe for coffee after a long night of dancing. When they'd waited in line for beignets on Christmas Eve morning to take back to the rest of the house. They were some of the best memories she had.

"Thanks, sugar," she murmured as she passed him and stepped into the shop, breathing in deep to savor the rich scent of fresh brewed coffee in the air. "Lord, I've missed this."

He still didn't completely understand where she'd come from, though he'd heard horror stories of the Age in which Apocalypse had reigned, he'd never seen it first hand. Still, a world with no coffee was no world the Cajun ever wanted to see, and hearing the tired excitement in her voice was enough to let his mind move on. She wasn't his Anna, but she was similar enough to almost make him forget, except for the uniform she was wearing.

"Well, mon chere, it's yo's whenever ya want it." He allowed her to lead the way to a table, to select a seating arrangement she was comfortable with.

She chose a table off to the side, in few of both the entrance and hall the led to the back door. It was the seat against the wall that she took, so she was farther away from the people in the room. She didn't even really think about it as she made those choices, just running on instinct and what felt safest.

Setting her gloved hands on the small table, she waited for him to take a seat as well before asking, "I saw the papers on your desk - are you teaching right now?" It was an easy subject, she hoped, that would lead to easy conversation.

In his usual way, Remy watched closely as she selected a table, noting as she did, exactly what she was noting: the location, the view of the front and side doors. In recent years, and all the time back home in New Orleans, Remy had done the same, and in much the same manner. He wondered idly if it was something the other him had taught her, but following her line of conversation as he took a seat, it seemed more polite to answer the question.

He smiled, giving a nod and running a hand back through his hair. "Oui, dat's what I'm up to right now. Logan reopened de school after, well, after Scott and de others left."

Rogue blinked a few times at his answer, processing all the information he'd given her in so few words. It was a bit overwhelming to think about really, and she found herself wishing she had something to do with her hands. Perhaps they should have gotten the coffee before having any sort of conversation.

"I guess things in our worlds were pretty different even without a war," she commented, looking down at the tabletop. "In my world, Scott died fifteen years ago."

A frown touched his expression, but Remy didn't react immediately, looking over to her with sympathy as well as pain. It may not have been his Scott, and they may not have been on the best of terms regardless, but they'd been through Hell together. The idea of him dead didn't sit well with the Cajun.

"I'm sorry ta hear dat chere." He wondered if the others had lived, if...the Professor had lived, in her world, but he dare not ask. At least...not yet.

She hadn't known Scott all that well, he'd simply been her teacher and one of the X-Men, the one who had hurt most when Jean was lost. But over the years she'd gotten to know him, bit by bit through the memories of others, and she wished she'd had the opportunity to work beside him more all those years ago.

Shrugging slightly, she gave a tiny shake of her head. "We lost a lot of people over the years, especially during the war. I try to tell myself that I'm used to it, but I don't know if that's really true or if I'm just... numb."

Remy couldn't help the frown of discontent that spread across his features at her words. War was nasty, destructive, and ultimately the pointless most of the time. Maybe, deep down, he was a pacifist, and he supposed that was pretty close to the truth, but he agreed with others. Peace would never come through war, except in the most bleak of ideals: there would be peace when there was no one left to fight. But was that peace? No. That was nothing but desolation.

"I understand dat, mon chere, but non. Ya don' get used to it. An' if ya do...it's time ta stop fightin'. People dat get used to it? Dey de ones who jus' keep up de fight, losin' what it was all about along de way."

Desolation. That's certainly what had come out of the war she'd witnessed and just barely survived. The people they'd fought against had been blind to destruction around them and determined not to stop until only 'pure' humans were left, no matter that the entire world had been dying as a result.

His words made her shift uncomfortably as she followed those thoughts on the war, memories surfacing of her teammates, the students they'd struggled to protect, the day when he'd...

"What am I gonna do, Remy?" she asked him in a quiet voice, her eyes on the table while she felt anxiety rising in her chest. "If I'm stuck here, I have to... do something and I-- I don't think I can teach again, I can't be around all those children, not after--" Her throat tightened and she couldn't get the words out, couldn't move because she might finally break.

More simple than this being Rogue, more fundamental than this being an alternate reality's version of the love of his life, this was a woman with a breaking heart, and if Remy leBeau had one true weakness in this world or any other, it was a woman near tears. He reached out, taking her gloved hands in his and willing her to meet his demon eyes, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Take it easy, chere. We'll figure somethin' out." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze as if to drive that point home. "Right now, we gonna have some coffee, an' see de sights, non? Dis New York can' be jus' like yours."

Those eyes. Those beautiful, devilish eyes. She'd learned to read them so long ago, and she'd missed seeing them all these years. She'd missed seeing the way he looked at her. Pulling in a deep, shaking breath, she gave a small nod and squeezed his hands in return.

"Thank you, Remy. Thank you so much." Another squeeze and she pulled her hands back, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Would you mind getting that coffee for us now, sugar? I sure could use it."

He nodded once, giving her hands one more squeeze before standing. "I can do dat, mon chere." He glanced toward the bar, then back to her. He was going out on a limb with the next bit, but he wanted to know exactly how alike she and his Anna were.

"You still like mocha?"

For the second time in as many minutes, Rogue felt like crying, though this time was for a very different reason. Even if they were different women, there were some things she shared with the Rogue that this Remy knew, and somehow that was so very comforting in this moment with him.

"It's my favorite," she confirmed with a watery smile and a nod.

Remy's smile turned affectionate and there was a note of relief in those demon eyes of his. He'd gone out on a limb when he'd guessed this Rogue shared preferences with his own, and he was happy to know it hadn't been a foolish idea. He stood, nodding in confirmation.

"Tres bien, mon chere. One mocha, comin' right up." The small cafe didn't host servers, so he moved to the bar to acquire her drink, and one of his own. Though they'd never hold a candle to cafes in his own town, they did serve coffee with chicory, which at least was a small taste of New Orleans in the Big Apple. It was one of the reasons he loved the place so much.

Seeing him smile at her like that... It made her heart ache in ways she didn't know it could anymore. It was a feeling that wasn't fair to either of them, but she struggled to push it aside.

Rogue watched him place the order at the counter, admiring the profile that she'd never thought to see again. She breathed in the scent of the espresso and chocolate as the mocha was mixed, and that incredibly nostalgic aroma of chicory. How many times had they walked down to Cafe du Monde for their delicious coffee?

No, not them. He wasn't hers.

Not only was the barista a master of foam and caffe, but he was fast, and Remy nodded his thanks to the man he'd gotten coffee from so many times before, scooped up the acquired caffeine, and headed back to their table, placing her mocha before her with a triumphant smile.

"Yo' mocha, mon chere. Hope it's to yo' likin'." He returned to his seat with his own coffee, a sheen of nostalgia glittering in his dark eyes. How had they drifted so far apart? How had they let so much life come between them?

No, not them. She wasn't his.

(OOC: I couldn't resist taking poetic license lol)

She wrapped her hands around the drink, giving him a small smile as she let the warmth seep through the gloves into her hands. Lord, she'd missed all of this. It wasn't the same for a number of reasons, but if she couldn't have her old life, this might actually be a decent substitute?

"I'm sure it'll be perfect." Just like he was...

Pushing that line of thought from her mind, she asked him, "Will you tell me about your life here? About your family?" She'd like to know if there were any stark differences to what she knew from her Remy.

[OOC: You killed my heart with feels with that poetic license. <3 ]

Family. That word still hit him strangely, and while he smiled gently as he took his seat, he wondered if there were a way for him to summarize either of them well. He glanced down toward his coffee cup before looking up again to meet her eyes.

"Which one, chere?"

It was clear by his follow-up question that things were as complicated here as they were in her universe. That was a little sad to hear; she wished life was simpler, easier, and all around kinder him.

"Whichever is easiest for you to talk about," she answered with a small, sympathetic smile. She didn't want to push him to speak on something that might hurt.

A New Start [For Remy LeBeau]

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