Once Logan had regained more consistent coherency, Rogue provided him a crutch as they headed upstairs. Her new room was, apparently, right across the hall from his. This did not surprise her, not with what Erik knew about Xavier, in the more affectionate memories, at least.
She returned to her room, scoured it for anything out of place (a paranoid habit of hers) and left her bag packed beside her. Early on when she’d just started running, she slept with a pistol under her pillow, and it had saved her life twice, but these days she didn’t need it, even in a house full of other powerful mutants. And besides, pistols were uncomfortable as Hell.
She slept in cotton shorts, a soft cotton tank top, and chain with a tag on it around her neck. It wasn’t adamantium, but it had the numbers they’d given her, and the name ‘ROGUE’ engraved on it. They had forced others to tell their real names for their tags. Rogue touched where she’d had a scar on the edge of her lip, from biting it too hard, those first few nights in the compound. It was gone, now.
Rogue fell asleep with her fingers tangled in the chain, and in sleep, she processed Logan in her head, so that when she woke, she knew him inside-out. Of course, she also woke in the throes of a nightmare, cold sweat soaking her skin and a scream muffled in her throat; if she were not invulnerable, she might have renewed the scar on her lip, biting it the way she did to hold back the sound. She had experience with nightmares, and had early on gotten into the habit of staying quiet. Rogue showered, dressed, and made her way downstairs. The sounds of banter and morning-snark had her braced: the junior team and much-needed introductions awaited.
There was only one thing that she did not expect.
And at the base of the stairs, she froze when he shouted out, “Rogue!” sounding shocked and excited and getting out of his seat with the casual fluidity of movement he’d trademarked––one that suggested all the cool people enthusiastically precipitated themselves out of chairs these days.
Ah, Remy Lebeau.
Rogue crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him as he approached. “If ya try to hug me, Ah’ll defenestrate you.”
Remy merely gave a dazzling grin. “Roguey, you have not changed, non?” He reached for her hand and smiled again when she reluctantly let him take it. He kissed her knuckles. She wore fingerless gloves today, and hardly felt it.
“Ah’ve changed a lot, Remy. Can Ah have my hand?”
He sighed a little and shook his head, but let her go. “Y’ hurt me, chere. Like always. I almost missed it, your kind of pain.” Remy straightened up.
Rogue looked over his shoulder at the rest of the stunned junior team: Siryn, Bobby, Jubilee, Pete, and Kitty...yes, Kitty. Rogue finally smiled. “Hello, Kitty. Nice to finally meet you in person.” She stepped past Remy with a nod as he shot her an amused, albeit perplexed, expectant look; he was used to being surprised by her, and was awaiting the full display. Kitty only looked confused as Rogue stepped up to her and held out her hand to shake Kitty’s. As the other girl finally took her hand, Rogue explained, “My name’s Rogue. You asked some really good questions about an article of mine.” She proceeded to release the girl’s hand and mention a few expert hacking tips and watched Kitty’s eyes go wide. “Because you still leave quite a trail, m’dear, Ah must say.”
“You...you’re...ohmygod. And Rogue was Logan’s...uh-” Kitty squeaked.
“Helpful informant,” Rogue said firmly, ignoring the sigh of relief from Remy.
Jubilee had perked up at the mention of Logan. “Holy shit. You’re telling me you got that computer of his the way it was and led some of Hank’s guys on a cross-country wild goose chase? And Wolvie chased after you, too, when you stopped writing.” Jubilee crossed her arms and shook her head. “I thought you’d be taller.”
Rogue smirked a little. “Yeah, that’s me: Ah’m Rogue. Nice to meet ya, Jubilee.”
“Do you know all of our names?” Bobby asked.
Rogue looked thoughtful. “Well, yeah. Don’t ask. It’s partially because of who my informant is, and partially because Ah research places before steppin’ in. Mostly, it’s just all me. And Ah’m not psychic, by the way.”
“How do you know Remy?” Siryn asked, looking between the two of them suspiciously.
Remy looked nervous.
Rogue’s smirk widened. She turned and asked the cajun, “How many heists did they hire us for? Ah think there were six in my contract, but number four got cancelled due to international ceasefire, right?”
Remy cleared his throat. “Oui, it was. And number five was not a heist so much as a rescue operation.”
Rogue noted the looks of shock and awe on the faces of the others, just out of the corner of her eye. It was fun, putting on a bit of a show for once. “Yeah, yeah. And almost went to Hell because they didn’t warn me about targets with iPhones. Ah remember.”
“So...are you living here now?” Bobby asked, looking hopeful, not appearing to notice the pitying smile Remy gave him.
“We’ll see. Ah am stayin’ for a bit.” She put her hands on her hips. “And Ah’m afraid Ah’m not actually real forthcomin’ here, so Ah’ll only accept three mor questions, and Ah’m allowed to reject a variety of suggestions before answerin’ one Ah like.”
They all looked at each other.
“That’s not altogether reasonable. You’re staying in our home,” Siryn said idly.
“And, as needed, Ah’ll deal with ya on an individual basis when we cross social paths, but really, Ah’m rather anti-social-”
“No kidding,” Remy murmured.
Rogue ignored him. “And Remy, Ah’m sure, can provide interestin’ gossip about what it’s like workin’ with me, where Ah’m from in the South originally, what my mutant abilities did to him, and what it’s like to be turned down by me in a romantic way, so don’t bother askin’ me that. Also, Ah’ll be fair enough to explain my mutant powers right off the bat to get that out of the way.” She proceeded to explain what her skin did, that she had technological and surgical enhancements to control it, gotten via the people she’d been contracted with while working with Remy, and that she had extra powers from being locked up in the ‘mutant experimenting’ compound they helped evacuated, and that the woman she killed now currently inhabited the mind of the psychic she’d been in love with. She then admired their stunned faces for a while, wondering where this exhibitionist streak had come from.
The she heard the clapping, and turned to see Logan standing in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes at him a little, even as she smirked. Ah, there’s the exhibitionist streak. Damned cage-fighter.
“Go on,” Logan encouraged the junior team. “Ask her questions while you can, before she vanishes and gets bitchy and elusive.”
“Asshole,” Rogue growled, but it was almost affectionate, and earned Logan a glare from Remy. “How long ya been there?”
“Whole time. Learned all sorts of things.” He glanced in Remy’s direction, his smirk widening a bit when he met Rogue’s gaze.
Rogue blatantly ignored the unspoken suggestion and turned to the junior team, giving them an expectant look.
“So she’s like you, then, Wolvie? Antisocial, bitchy and elusive...” mused Jubilee.
“Questions for me, if you please. You can harass the hairy Canadian creature on your own time, come on,” Rogue urged.
“Why did you help the hairy Canadian creature find his past?” Pete asked.
“Good one, Ironman. Because Ah could, and because Ah found all the information Ah needed to do it via coincidence. Don’t ask about the coincidence. He was tryin’ to save me from some thugs, had the misfortune of grabbin’ my bare arm in the process. Ah beat up the thugs, life moves on. Next?”
“Do you plan on joinin’ the X-men?” Jubilee asked.
“Ah don’t know. Apparently a hairy blue guy wants to offer me a job, first. Ah’ll see which one suits my fancy, if either of ‘em do. Next?”
A long pause. Finally, Kitty asked, “What’s with the hair?”
Rogue explained briefly about Magneto, his machine, and her hair colors. “All things considered, Ah’m kinda fond of it.”
“Well, having Mags in your head would explain you knowing some of us. That’s one informant down,” Siryn murmured.
“Erik in my head, Ah’m sure, could explain a variety of things. Few of them light-hearted, so we’ll drop the subject, if you’ll be so kind.” Rogue took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. “Logan, Ah think your mood is wearing off. Can we talk?”
They walked out of the room, a heavy silence in their wake for a full five seconds.
“That...was weird,” Jubilee said finally.
“She said Logan’s mood wore off. Did she touch him, or something?” Kitty mused.
Remy suddenly looked very angry, but it passed, a look of resignation following it. Siryn noticed, and reached over to touch his hand. He looked startled for a moment, but then gave her a vague smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a bit of a shrug. “Remy is a fool, is all, chere. And Rogue does not suffer him gladly n’more.” He looked at Bobby. “And trust me, homme, she’s a heartbreaker an’ ya got no chance. Too many centuries in dat head o’ hers.” He patted his pockets, and sighed when he found no cigarettes.
“So you liked her, eh?” Jubilee crooned.
“Loved her, Jube-Jube. Or t’ought I did, and she prove me wrong. Somet’in’ like dat. She es somet’in’ alright: not sure what kind, but she can do anyt’ing wit’ computers dat can be done, I seen dat. An’ she don’ talk ‘bout herself to anybody who wanna know. Closed book wit’ locks not even dis t’ief can get t’rough.”
“So what’s with her and Logan, then?” Bobby mused.
Remy shook his head. “Dat make no sense to me. Not like her. But...she did say one time she was helpin’ somebody get somethin’ back dat been taken from ‘em. I ask, she say he lost his life, she gettin’ it back. Dat sound an awful lot like Logan, now, in retrospec’.” Remy looked grim for a moment. “An’ wit’ his memories back, he got a few centuries in his head, too, non?” A sigh escaped him and he cursed low in Cajun french.
“You think she wants him?” Jubilee asked, hungry for gossip.
“I don’ know. Before, when she workin’, she not seem like she want anyt’ing but...but to get jobs done, an’ do right by folks she knew she could respect. Sometimes Remy fit dat bill, sometimes...sometimes I don’ t’ink she t’ought I did. She not de kind to want t’ings. She a soldier, Jube-Jube, more dan ya Wolvie has been t’ dis house. More ruthless. Less connected t’ people...”
“Less than Wolverine?” Kitty asked, looking worried.
Remy looked at the floor for a few moments. “When Remy knew her? Oui, she was. Now? Maybe she change. Maybe she suspended her humanity for a while, and is lettin’ herself turn it on now dat she invincible. I don’ know. She a closed book to me. Always been.”
He was thinking about the hours after heists with her, when they were both full of adrenaline and wired and being taken back to the base to debrief with the Fenris twins. She was always closed, and all he knew was that he couldn’t touch her skin, that she was frighteningly skilled with computers and beautiful as sin in the damned outfits their bosses gave them, and that between heists she was neck-deep in government info looking for someone else’s life. But they would talk about theft, about human nature, and their mutations, and he’d decided at some point that she was the perfect Marion to his Robin Hood, and she’d proved she was nothing of the sort. He wondered if she still had some traces of his ghost in her head. An now, with the X-men, he wasn’t exactly Robin Hood anymore, anyway. Who might she become?
He was more distant from the conversation after that, and eventually left them, quietly trailing after Rogue.
She and Logan were in the study, near the library.
“Ah hear ya, Remy,” Rogue said immediately, startling him, but he came out of hiding and faced her. Logan, too, which was awkward. They were on opposite ends of the same couch, but the couch wasn’t all that big. Usually Rogue preferred more distance between her and others, even when she could touch them safely.
“Jus’ curious, chere. ‘S been a long time.” He put his hands in his pockets.
Rogue looked distant, as always, and cold, but it looked like she’d collected another half-century in her eyes over the last six months. “About what, this time, Remy?”
“Lots a t’ings, like always.” Remy looked at Logan a little thoughtfully. The two of them had got on well enough since Remy had joined up. They’d had a couple of drinking sessions together, talking about the X-men, both as individuals, and as a fighting force. Logan was pretty distant, too. And Remy had seen the man during that time Jubilee had explained as, ‘the time his mystery informer-girl stopped writing.’ How odd, that nobody had thought to mention the name ‘Rogue’ to him. “I didn’t know she was de one writin’ you, homme. Nobody tol’ me de name, or I mighta helped.”
Logan nodded. “I ‘ppreciate it.”
Remy nodded back, then looked to Rogue again. A longing look flickered across his features. “No chance?”
Rogue hesitated, then shook her head. “Non. No chance, homme,” she said fluidly, tossing his accent back at him fluidly. She smirked at him a little. “But Ah gotta thank ya for some of the lock-breakin’ skills ya gave me. Got me out of a few binds.” She got to her feet, leaving Logan on the couch to approach Remy.
He looked down at her face, and remembered that she’d given him one kiss, and a very good one at that, once she could touch. It was how she’d said adieu. Not goodbye––it was too final to be goodbye, but here she was. “Y’ haunt me a little, Rogue.”
She smirked a little. “And Ah’m the one with the ghosts.” She shook her head. “What do you really wanna know, Remy?” She asked it in French.
He was looking at the unfamiliar sparks of green in the brown of her eyes. “What change in you, dat you end up here?” He asked, also in French.
She thought about it a moment, and answered in French. “It was time to stop runnin’. Ah’m gettin’ too old for it, and loosin’ track of time and...Hell, Ah’m thinkin’ it might be nice to have long-term goals for once in my life. At least, ones that won’t be crushed if somebody grabs my arm to save my life.” Rogue shook her head again, and spoke in English once more. “Is that a good enough answer?”
Remy nodded. “Oui.”
Rogue smiled at him faintly. “Did ya warn the blond boy?”
Chuckling lightly in spite of himself, Remy shook his head at her. “Chere, you say d’ese t’ings, I may not keep doin’ ya work f’ you.” He gave her lips one more longing look, and finally bowed a little, saying he’d be on his way.
“And outta mine, for a while. Might be nice,” Rogue mocked.
Remy bit his thumb at her, and vanished out the door.
Rogue shook her head again. “That man and his inexplicable affinity for shakespearean insults. Insufferable romantic.” She shook her head. “If not for Fury in my head an’ my sheer paranoia, Ah’d have fallen for that man.”
Logan felt favored by fortune. “‘Insufferable romantic’ is a good description, though.”
Rogue was smirking again when she rejoined him on the couch. “Yeah. He’s a good guy, though. Just has his head in the clouds when it comes to people.”
“You have him in your head?”
Rogue nodded. “Not too much. Ah kept what was useful, and Ah kept what seemed to like stayin’. He doesn’t cause any trouble up here.”
“Do I?”
Rogue looked at him––through him––and, to his surprise, smiled a little. “You’ve improved my mood, actually. Must be the healin’ factor or somethin’. Or maybe knowin’ everybody around here from your perspective...And Ah haven’t slept that well in years, either.” She looked down at her hands and then looked up at him again. “Ah do see, now, how ya’ve stayed.”
Logan raised his eyebrows a bit. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She pulled off her fingerless gloves idly, looking at her hands, the lack of scars. “And thank you.” She held up her palms.
Logan smiled. “I’m curious about the two you had on your face, though.”
Rogue lowered her hands and shrugged. With a fingertip, she traced the invisible line where the scar on her forehead had been. “Sharp bit a’ shrapnel from an emergency explosion Remy was forced into usin’ on heist number five. And...the one on my lip was from when Ah bit it, keepin’ quiet. Y’see, they made these...” She pulled the chain around her neck, tugging it so that it came undone. She re-hooked the chain and handed it, and the tag, to Logan.
He took it slowly, running his thumb across the letters. “Jesus...”
“They wanted my name. They got all the others to tell ‘em their ‘real names’ and tried...similar means to get it outta me. As ya can see, they gave up, eventually.”
Logan found that he knew, looking at the titanium steel dog-tag, that she’d had some other scars from that experience, hidden under her sleeves and shirts, and he was very glad that he knew them to be gone, too. He handed her back the tag, watching her put it back around her neck. “Why keep it?”
“Why did ya keep yours?”
“It was all I had, for a long time.”
“Yeah...well. Same here. Except instead of identity, it was dignity.” She held his gaze.
Logan nodded, knowing she could see that he understood. “You gonna stay, too?”
Rogue was examining his face intently. “Yeah. Ah think Ah will.”
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