Whispers

 
 

Friday Night Fights

Day One, 18th Hour, 22nd Minute

Rogue smiled into the breeze as Remy drove his convertible back toward the mansion. She had enjoyed herself and had about eight or nine of her own bags to prove it. She kicked back the seat, let down her hair, and pulled off her gloves to take advantage of the cool wind on a summer afternoon and listened idly to the girl talk behind her in the back seat.

Suddenly, she became aware of another murmur of sound. She glanced over at Remy and saw him flipping cards in one hand and driving with the other lazily guiding the wheel.

"Remy LeBeau!" she screeched. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

If he hadn't been driving, Rogue would have lunged for the cards. As it was, Remy merely gave her an annoyed look.

"It's that or a cigarette, chère, 'less you want me charging this here wheel."

She swiped the cards out of his hand, opened the glove department viciously, and exchanged the deck for a pack.

"Here, Swamp Rat. One."

"Merci, ma chèrie."

"I'm not your darling nothing," she snapped back.

He smirked and lit up with a touch of a finger. Emma, Kitty, and Jubilee immediately protested loudly.

"Not in the car!" Jubilee whined.

Rogue shushed them with a hand. "Oh, he's been so nice today, I had to let him." She had no intention of telling them that he had successfully threatened her.

Remy rolled his eyes.

Payback. She flipped the radio station to her favorite station and cranked it up.

Remy cringed. "Mes tourmentés. Pop music torture now?"

She laughed at him and his genuine horror. Kitty and Jubilee were singing loudly to the chorus. Emma tapped her hand to the beat.

"I like it," Rogue said with a smile.

Remy set his face grimly and locked his eyes on the road.

Day One, 23rd Hour, 40th Minute

A lovely afternoon went sour soon after Kitty went to bed. It was a Friday night, which meant late night ice cream, girl chats with any female that dared to enter, and modeling the clothes they bought. Which meant Rogue got an earful about romantic touchy-feely relationships and saw Jubilee and Kitty's new night clothes with all their wonderful, painful potential.

It was tough being the one girl who couldn't have it all when she couldn't have anything.

So after the ice cream and bubbly effusiveness of her roommate wore off, Rogue tried unsuccessfully to sleep. Lost cause. She kept thinking, kept remembering, kept wanting.

Rogue huffed and slipped out of her bed, glided softly toward her closet, and pulled down a soft, clingy lace negligee, the only sexy nightclothes she had. She ran a bare hand over the maroon fabric and sighed wistfully. Suddenly, she flung the slip onto her dresser and threw herself on the bed.

She would not cry.

A sheet of paper on the nightstand by the phone caught her eye. Emma had given both Remy and her a copy of the terms they'd agreed to at the end of their poker match.

Rogue reached for the phone and hesitated only a moment before dialing Remy's room. It rang twice.

"Gambit." His voice was matter-of-fact as always, but this time, it held a hint of real irritation.

"Remy?"

A long silence ensued. Just when she thought he wasn't going to speak at all, he did.

"Chère. You're cute and all, but phone sex at midnight isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Gambit!" She sat up straight in bed. This time he had really gone too far! The nerve of him!

"What do you want?" he demanded with enough growl in his voice to compete with Logan.

It startled her a little to realize he used sex as a cover for anger. She sighed deeply and let it go. "Could you sleep?" It was always the polite way to start into the I couldn't sleep conversation.

"Could I sleep?" Remy repeated in absolute incredulity.

"That is what I asked," she said with some annoyance.

"Let me get this straight, chère." His voice made it clear that he couldn't believe she was asking him. "We stay up 'til almost midnight on a school night playing poker, you wake me at a ridiculous hour this morning, haul me out of bed to make your breakfast, drag me along to fifteen different stores, have me lug enough bags to make up Logan's weight again, send me to the store at 10:00 at night to pick up ice cream, then wake me up from my well-deserved rest at nearly midnight again, and you're wondering if I could sleep?"

Rogue stared wide-eyed at her mirror when he let loose his tirade. "Yes," she whispered.

He gave a strangled groan. "Est-ce que je pourrais dormir?" he muttered darkly to himself.

She pulled herself up sharply. "Seeing as I won the bet, I'm perfectly allowed to call you whenever I want."

"Oui. But I'm not required to be nice about it." Apparently, the charm was worn out for the evening.

She narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn't see her. "Required company was deemed labor, Swamp Rat." Her voice softened. "I just want to talk. You don't have to listen if you don't want to."

Remy gave a long-suffering sigh and settled down. "Proceed."

She could practically see his magnanimous gesture accompanying the word.

Now that he was calm, she didn't know what to say. She'd had so much to say when she first dialed his number. She took a deep breath.

"Sometimes I just wish I could touch people."

She stopped there. There was silence on the other end. She sighed again.

"Just seeing Kitty and Jubilee today..."

"Not Emma?"

"No! She's different," Rogue concluded quickly. Then realized he'd sounded genuinely interested. "I just sometimes wonder why me? Why was I the one life decided couldn't have anything?" She almost forgot who she was talking to as the feelings overtook her. "Why can't I keep a boyfriend or have sex or children? Why?" Her voice broke.

"Whoa, chère." Remy panicked. "You can talk, but don't start crying on me."

Suddenly, she was laughing in the middle of her tears. The sobs were less painful now. "Oh, Remy. What is it with guys and tears. You'd think you'd melt or something."

"Feeling better, chère?" His voice was tentative. Maybe he was afraid she'd cry again.

"No," she said. Then she thought about it. "A little."

"It's Bobby as was the fool. Not you."

She choked on that.

"You're not crying again, are you?" The panic was back.

"Goodnight, Remy," she said softly and hung up the phone. Then she curled up under her covers and went to sleep.
 


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