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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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.

He was quiet for a long time. He couldn't even decide which was easier to talk about. Both had been pulled apart by things beyond his control, and things well within it. He found himself looking down at his coffee cup unsure how to respond.

"Things ain' really been de same since...since de Professor left us."

With every second that passed, her heart ached a little more for him. She shouldn't have asked, should have known that if there were things to share, he would do so in his own time.

"I don't imagine it could be," she commented softly, wishing she could reach out and wrap her arms around him but knowing she didn't have that right. "I'm sorry, sugar. You don't have to talk about it, I shouldn't have asked."

He smirked, his expression rueful. If only it were as simple as Professor Xavier passing away, but the world wasn't that kind, not to people like them.

"It's more dat dere's so much ta talk about, I don't reckon it'll all fit in one evening, mon chere."

[I literally had this thread open just now bc I'm using it as a sample for a game app, and up you pop with a new tag. :D ]

Oh. She certainly knew how that was. How unkind the world tended to betoward all of them.

"Well, it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon," she replied, offering him a branch to tell her as much as he wanted, if anything. Giving him a small smile, she lifted her drink and took a careful sip, the liquid still rather hot but absolutely delicious as the blend of chocolate and espresso hit her tongue. The soft sigh that escaped her couldn't have been stopped if her life depended on it.

[It's like I'm psychic or something.]

He took a sip from his own drink, a slight smirk touching his lips as he nodded. A conversation, then. Remy could roll with that. For one, it meant not having to concentrate on long, lengthy descriptions of wounds that were still raw and bleeding, but it also meant he could breeze over the parts this Rogue didn't need to know. She clearly already had enough of her plate without being handed a lot of his issues.

"How 'bout I jus' ask questions an' we go from dere, eh? How'd you end up with de X-Men?"

She paused in the midst of taking another drink, blinking at the question before lowering her cup. The question should have been easy, requiring a simple explanation without any baggage, but she had never been so lucky.

"Well, that's a bit of a long story," she began quietly. Clearing her throat, she reached up to tuck her hair back behind her ears before continuing. Nerves always made her do that. "The shorter version? My mutation manifested when I was seventeen, right in the middle of my first kiss, and when my parents found out what I was... They didn't want a mutant for a daughter, so I left. I'd always wanted to visit Alaska, so I bought a bus ticket. I only got as far as Toronto before I had to start hitchhiking. I ended up in this really awful place where I met Logan. I convinced him to give me a ride, but we didn't get very far before some of the Brotherhood showed up and the X-Men came to the rescue."

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A New Start [For Remy LeBeau]

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