Rogue hid her pain behind false laughter and insincere smiles, not wanting to tell her well meaning friend that the more she learned about her past, the more she mourned her inability to recall it on her own. She felt pressure to behave like this Anna/Anina person, and when she did, Jubilee and the others responded encouragingly, happy to see hints of the person she used to be.
But she wasn’t Anna, she wasn’t Anina. She couldn’t find anything inside of her personality that would lend itself to ever being like these women. She was just Rogue. Plain, simple, unremarkable Rogue.
She was secretly glad when the professor discovered he was no longer able to read her mind after her horrific nightmare. She patiently sat in his office and pretended to be disappointed right along with him when his attempts to re-enter her mind failed time and time again, relieved that she could now keep her thoughts to herself without sharing them with the X-Men founder. It was better this way. It was always better this way – keeping her emotions to herself - not becoming too attached to this place. She needed to accept the empty spaces in her mind, needed to accept that her memories were gone forever and she would only be able to do that on her own, away from their assurances that things would go back to normal.
Rogue wondered how they thought that could ever happen when the woman she was before seemed anything but normal.
Rogue did look forward to the hour each afternoon she spent with Piotr. The Russian was pleasantly surprised she agreed to let him sketch her when he found her sitting on her own, looking outside the Library window after she had first arrived. Approaching her shyly, he revealed that he had always wanted to draw her, even since meeting her for the first time fifteen years ago. She didn’t have the heart to say no to his humble request. Maybe it was because he was thinking of the person she had been back then rather than the person she was recently, maybe it was because it flattered her that he thought she was worth being made immortal on canvass. Whatever it was, she was glad she didn’t.
She learned about his life as a young boy in Russia, about his sister Ilyanna and the tribulations the siblings encountered when they first arrived in America. He told her about his boyfriend Jean-Paul Beaubier, the famous Canadian former ski champion and superhero that he hoped would join the X-Men after he located his missing twin sister Jeanne-Marie, a mutant herself who was known to disappear because of her mental illness. The large man’s love for Northstar was profound - it wrapped itself around Rogue every time he spoke of him.
Rogue admitted to him her envy. She couldn’t imagine how wonderful it must feel, loving someone and being loved like that. Colossus had frowned and she turned quickly away, not wanting to see the pity they all felt for her reflected in his eyes as well.
He had her sit on a stool by the window, a simple white sheet draped tastefully around her nude body, able to adjust her pose without fear because of his ability to metalicize his skin. The simply furnished room became her sanctuary because being in the company of the gentle, silent giant, Rogue was able withdraw into herself, free of the imposter she had become.
“You owe Remy at leas’ one, cher. Please? Pretty please? Pretty pecan pie please?”
The late afternoon sun was strong, making the air thick and warm around them and Rogue stretched out her arms and legs, trying to catch as much of the cool grass against her heated skin as she possibly could. Her gloves were set beside her, a boundary between her and the man lying down next to her. The sound of the students’ horseplay from the pool carried over to where they were on the front lawn of the mansion, which was why Rogue felt comfortable enough to be in shorts and t-shirt.
“Don’t be thinking Ah’m going to fall for your charms, Cajun. Ah know all about your suggestive mutation.” Despite the warning in her voice, Remy’s playful begging did have the effect of making the corner of her mouth lift into a smile. A shadow came over her and she knew he was leaning over her.
“Remy needs no mesmer mojo for a beautiful woman’s affection,” he drawled. “Besides, it only works on dose who don’t know. You know. So you’re under dis one’s spell because you want t’be, cher.”
Rogue’s eyes remained closed. “Ah didn’t know when we first met. For all Ah know, Ah was caught in your voodoo spell back then.” It became very quiet, the sound of her breathing the only one she could hear. Concerned, she opened her eyes.
“Never.” His scarlet eyes were serious. “Dis one would never do that to you.”
Rogue kept her eyes on his, losing herself in their strange beauty. He really was a spectacular looking man. Even so, she surprised herself, saying, “Alright, Cajun. Kiss me.”
His eyes brightened. Remy pulled out a sheer purple scarf from the back pocket of his jeans and draped it gently over her face and she caught her breath when he lowered his handsome face closer to hers, every piece of her becoming electric.
His mouth slid slowly across hers, pressing softly, pulling invitingly at her lower lip, his tongue wetting the diaphanous material. One arm dug under her waist, pulling her up against him as he rolled on top of her, placing his leg between hers, his hard body forcing her softer one to mold to it. His other gloved hand held the back of her neck, tilting her head to accommodate his kiss and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather pour over her. Remy moved his leg higher, his knee pushing at the apex of her thighs and she gasped, stiffening.
“Shhh, bebe. Remy will make you feel good.” His hand slid under her shirt and over her bare stomach, unbuttoning her shorts before pulling down the zipper to pull them apart. He recaptured her lips, deepening the kiss, his fingers dipping under the band of her underwear.
Rogue broke away and grabbed his roaming hand with her bare one. “That’s not going to happen, Remy.”
He looked down between them, sighed, and reluctantly re-zipped her shorts. “Just o’ bit of fun cher, nothing more.” He smiled and flashed his dimples. Rogue relaxed.
“Ah lead,” she told him sternly, the sheer scarf fluttering from her shallow, nervous breathing.
“D’accord, petit.” Remy closed his eyes, and didn’t move - a patient expression on his face.
Her kiss was surprisingly innocent, unsure but explorative, and he kept his hands on her tiny waist as she curled her fingers harmlessly into his hair. But after a few minutes, a tortured moan escaped him and he crushed her to him, again deepening the kiss, his tongue delving possessively into her mouth. Remy settled himself between her legs, his arousal easily felt through their clothing. He slid his hands along the inside of her thighs, both thumbs digging under her shorts on either side in an attempt to meet at the heated core of her.
Rogue pushed at his shoulders, shifting under him to get him to stop. His kiss became demanding, his hands gripping her hips to hold her down and he drew back to press himself again more intimately against her so she could feel the size of his desire for her. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled viciously, forcing him to stop kissing her.
“Ow!”
Sitting up, she threw the scarf from her face to the ground beside her and brushed away the blades of grass from her back. “Damn it, Remy!”
He sat back on his heels, rubbing the spot on his head where she almost ripped out what would have been a sizeable amount of hair. She tried to scramble out from underneath him, but he crawled back on top of her. He was genuinely surprised by how upset she was.
“Cher, is no right to get mad at dis one for being a man.” He tried hard to not be offended, but failed. His ego was getting more than just a little bruised by her reaction.
Rogue’s face reddened, reaching for her gloves and pulling them on with hard tugs. “What about being my friend? Why do you always push for more?”
“Would you rather Remy lie, petit? Dis one wants more dan friendship from you.” He grabbed her hands and pressed them to his heart, telling her earnestly, “I want you, Rogue. I never stopped wanting you.” His eyes hid nothing, his scent even less.
Rogue sat up abruptly, forcing him to pull back and this time, he didn’t stop her when she stood up and moved away from him. She hugged her arms around herself, overwhelmed and confused, the revulsion she was feeling not making any sense. She had enjoyed his kiss, enjoyed the feel of his hard, muscular body against her but when he had tried to touch her, it was like ice being dumped over her. It was better when she kissed him until he took over again, becoming much worse when he became sexually aggressive, shutting her own arousal down completely.
Rogue cared for him, he was the only person she felt any real connection to in this strange place, the only person who knew her as Rogue – so why was this happening? Remy had no memories of her as the saintly Anna, no memories of the wildly successful Anina. Remy wanted her, just as she was.
Broken, half empty, Rogue.
“You pull in with one hand and push away with the other,” she heard him say softly behind her. “Every time dis one tries to get close, you punish him. Is cruel, cher. Is no fair.” She closed her eyes and knew he was right. It wasn’t fair.
Rogue wanted to feel something more than just an attraction towards the handsome, charming Cajun. Remy’s memories told her that she hadn’t loved him before but why didn’t she? And Scott told her that she had loved him but who did he lose her to? Not to Hank - he was with Ororo. Not to Piotr- he was with Jean-Paul and definitely not to Kurt, his feelings for her fraternal.
Was it to the Wolverine? He told her they had shared a close friendship but nothing more. And yet, thinking of him, incinerating desire shot through her, completely obliterating the pleasant experience of Remy’s kiss. She growled in frustration, and Remy head shot up, hearing it.
“It’s because of him again, isn’t it?” The humid air around them became stained with his jealousy. Rogue spun around to look at him, her eyes narrowing.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Dat animal. He’s poisoned you, he’s marked you.” Remy grabbed her roughly, his face hard with anger. “Dat’s why you couldn’t love Remy before, why you can’t now.” But just as fast as his anger appeared, it was gone and he pulled her into his arms, holding her in place when she tried to pull away. He placed his lips near her ear, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Give me a chance, Rogue. The chance I never got when you went away.”
Rogue tried. She tried to feel something, tried to feel more than just affection and physical attraction. But she couldn’t. Scared as she was to lose the only person in her life who accepted her as she was, Rogue knew what she had to do.
“You are a sweet, handsome, amazing man, Remy LeBeau. There’s something wrong with a woman if she isn’t head over heels in love with you. But knowing Ah should love you, and being in love with you are two different things.” Rogue pulled away from him, finding it hard to continue, but knowing he deserved the truth. She had to let him go.
“Ah don’t love you, Remy. Not the way you want me to. Ah don’t think Ah ever did, but Ah do know Ah never will. Ah’m sorry.”
The head of the Guild of Thieves loved many women in his life. A few deeply and even then, never as much as they did him. His memories of Rogue haunted him for ten years; his unrequited love for her a constant ache all that time. It was a wound he prevented from healing over, convinced that her quick departure was to blame for her not loving him but looking into her remorseful eyes, Remy LeBeau realized that this beautiful woman would never be, could never be, his.
He reached out and caressed her cheek, pinching her chin gently between his forefinger and thumb. Smiling sadly, he admitted, “Dis one is hurting, cher.”
Rogue nodded, tears threatening to escape her eyes. She didn’t say anything, she knew he was.
Remy took a cleansing breath, and dropped his head back dramatically, massaging the back of his neck. Looking up at the sky, he watched the sun hide behind a cloud and noticed the storm making its way towards them. A strong wind blew his hair away from his face.
“Ah hope you stay, Remy.” Guilt was in her voice, fear too.
“Remy is going nowhere, petit. New Orlean’s too hot dis time of year, anyway.” He winked at her and held out his hand.
Rogue squeezed it gratefully. He pulled her into the curve of his shoulder and they walked slowly back to the mansion, the wind picking up around them.