Rogue tried to ignore it, hoping they would get the hint, but when Andrew reached over and pulled Christie’s orange pointed ear, Rogue sent a withering look the young boy’s way. Caught, the young boy retreated against the chapel pew he was sitting on. Rogue repositioned herself so she sat in between the two children, and placed a finger against her lips, indicating to the children to hush. They obeyed, sullen, but within minutes, were back at it.
Rogue could hardly blame them. Kurt was doing a wonderful job leading the midnight service but, she had to be honest, it was dragging along. And the incense that burned at the altar felt capable of suffocating her. There was a collective sigh of relief when he began the closing intonations. Rogue wasn’t Catholic, having been raised Baptist, and her feelings towards religion were ambivalent at best. But she recalled the comfort and security it provided her as a child, and saw no harm in exposing these young children to it. Besides, you couldn’t have Santa Claus without it, and that was what she suspected was the real reason for the children’s inattentiveness.
She approached Kurt afterwards and thanked him for the beautiful sermon. He blessed each child before their caretakers led them away to their beds, promises of a red dressed elf and flying reindeer filling their heads. Rogue watched them go, her heart bursting with love for each of them. She was so thankful to the professor for finding them, and for providing them the safety of his school.
She recalled a Christmas she experienced as a very young child. She remembered the beautiful twenty foot pine tree that stood majestically in the front foyer, shipped down from a northern Michigan forest. She could remember sitting still, hiding, on the top step of the winding staircase, entranced by its glittering lights and multi-colored decorations as a party filled with well dressed adults was well underway in the rooms below. The memory felt like it belonged to another person, another lifetime.
Unbidden, thoughts of her father appeared in her mind and she gasped, recalling his features easily. Her heart ached.
Oh Daddy, why couldn’t you love me enough? Why did you throw me away?
“ ‘Ello chere.”
Startled, she spun around. Remy regarded her, taking in the grief stricken expression on her face. He reached for her, seeing that she needed comfort. “What makes you so sad, Rogue?”
She pushed him away gently, shaking her head as she blinked away the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. “It’s just the season Remy. It’s not a happy time for everyone.”
He watched her silently as she composed herself. Everyone had left the chapel; the two were alone in front of the altar. The full moon shone brightly through the stained glass high above them, reflecting off the gleaming polished wood of the pews. Shadows played across their faces as they faced each other.
“You look well.” His voice was soft and low.
She nodded. “Ah feel better.” Silence grew between them. Watching him, she felt conflicted. The day was spent mostly alone by her, avoiding Logan, and avoiding Gambit as well. She could smell the hurt on him. He stepped closer, stopping mere inches from her. He held nothing back, eyes glowing, and she touched his face with her gloved fingers, lost in his intent gaze. His eyes shuttered closed with a soft sigh, and he grabbed her hand, turning her palm upwards and kissing it. Returning it back to his cheek, he closed the small gap between them and reopened his eyes.
Remy LeBeau was an extremely handsome man. Beautiful, in fact. He was tall and broad shouldered, leanly muscled and strong. His hair shined a dark auburn and fell across his face in long straight lines, his thick lashes surrounding a pair of crimson irises encased in black. He was also a very sexual man. And he was looking at her like she was the only woman in the world.
He pulled out a white, flat box with a red bow on top, and wordlessly gave it to her. She opened it, pulling out a delicate sheer green scarf. He took it from her and rubbed the material between his fingers, his eyes taking on a peculiar intensity.
She stopped breathing. Omigod…
Remy draped the small square of material across the lower half of her face, and with the briefest hesitation, claimed her lips with his own. Terror gripped her, her pupils constricting to mere pin points as she waited for the pull.
None came.
His breath was hot against her mouth, his lips soft, pulling gently at her own. She felt herself go weak, powerless against the wave of pleasure that washed over her. Feeling her go limp, his hold on her strengthened. His lips moved over hers slowly, tenderly, holding himself back. She ran her fingers through his hair, and responded, timidly at first but then hungrily, desperately.
Gambit felt a surge of victory, crushing her to him, devouring her. Rogue wouldn’t, couldn’t stop, amazed by the feel of his mouth plundering hers, of being kissed. Gambit took all that he could from this first kiss, only breaking away to catch his breath. Tenderly, he looked down on the woman he had grown to love, her eyes dazed, her ruby red lips swollen from his kiss. With a cocky grin, he possessed her lips again, in the back of his mind thanking a certain yellow loving mutant.
A cloud passed overhead, plunging them into darkness. A mournful howl could be heard in the distance as a lone wolf bemoaned the loss of its beloved moon.
But Rogue didn’t hear a thing.
Morning sunlight poured through the bedroom window, hitting Rogue’s eyes with laser like accuracy.
At least, that’s what it felt like to her tired body. Lazily stretching out on her bed, her thoughts went to Gambit, and the kisses they shared the night before. A slow, catlike smile curled her lips, and she shivered deliciously at the memory.
It was a Christmas miracle, she thought, giggling to herself.
She got out of bed, and listened to the sounds of students shrieking with joy down in the common room. It was Christmas Day.
Rogue took her time getting ready, taking extra care with her appearance. She pinned her hair up and put a pair of gold hoops in her ear lobes, dressing in a pair of black velvet pants and an emerald green silk blouse. Her eyes caught the rumpled sheer scarf that Remy had given her the night before on her dresser.
Cheeks burning, she pulled out a black silk scarf from her closet and tied it in a loose knot against her throat.
She skipped down the steps, and entered the common room with a big smile. Immediately her four young students ran to her, exclaiming their happiness with the gifts that she gave them. Laughing, she returned their hugs and watched them run back to join the older students. She made her way over to where the teaching staff was congregated enjoying some refreshments.
“Merry Christmas, everyone,” she greeted them, hugging each one in turn before pouring herself a cup of coffee. Happily, she settled into an arm chair, tucking her legs in beneath her. Remy was nowhere to be found but he was probably fast asleep, the both of them having gone to bed in the small hours of the morning. Her smile deepened, lost in thought when Logan stepped into the room.
His eyes took in the sight of her, curled into a chair, looking off to the distance with a mysterious smile on her face. Curious, he crossed her line of vision and she looked up, startled. As she focused on him, he saw a look - was that guilt? - come over her face. She sat up and suddenly became very interested in the contents of her mug.
“Mornin’, Marie.”
Her green eyes looked up at him and then quickly away. “Good morning, Logan.”
His brows knitted together. But the others pulled his attention away, greeting him with festive cheer and he grunted good-naturedly. This was just another day to him. He turned back to her but Rogue had already vacated her chair, and was sitting on the floor with the children, playing with their new toys. He sat down, pensive.
Yep, she was definitely giving off wafts of guilt.
Logan caught wind of him moments before he appeared at the doorway. Evidently, so did Rogue because her body went still. Gambit looked right at her, sitting with the children by the massive Christmas tree. With eyes only for her, he walked up to where she was and with a secretive grin, he bent down next to her and fingered the scarf against her throat.
Rogue blushed, a deep, deep red.
That was the color that suffused Logan’s vision, watching them. Gambit brushed Rogue’s hair behind her ear and Logan noted the gloves that the swamp rat was now wearing. Realization began to dawn on him.
No.
But their body language said it all. She leaned into him, laughing softly at whatever he was whispering into her ear. Her eyes fluttered up to the Cajun’s mouth and Logan felt his mouth go dry, a terrible jealousy taking hold of him.
He was halfway up from his chair when he realized that he couldn’t just split Remy in half with his claws. Fists trembling, he abstained from drawing them out and willed Rogue to look at him. Her eyes flitted up directly to him and their vision locked. Rogue felt her heart constrict, seeing the expression of betrayal on Logan’s face. His heated glare stabbed at her. She felt her body respond, and the flare of his nostrils told her that he caught it. Logan stood up slowly, and began to make his way to her, seeing nothing but her.
Remy was watching the interchange between the two. Seeing Logan stand up from where he was sitting, he quickly pulled the scarf from Rogue’s neck and placed it across her mouth, kissing her hard.
Possessively.
The Wolverine bared his teeth and growled. Several of the students looked at him in fear, and Beast caught the sound. Responding to a potential threat, he bounded to where Logan was and looked in the same direction his fellow feral mutant was. Dr. McCoy immediately understood the situation.
He clamped his hand down on Logan’s shoulder. “Don’t my friend.”
Logan was breathing heavily through his nose, never taking his eyes off Rogue. The children around her and Remy ooh’d at the sight of their kiss, distracting the other adults in the room from Beast and him.
Rogue moved away from Remy in shock, looking between him and Logan. She got up and glared at him, knowing the reason why he kissed her so passionately. Without a word, she stormed off, twisting her arm from Gambit’s hold when he tried to restrain her. She stormed through the front foyer and out the front doors.
Logan and Remy looked at each other. The tension between them was palpable.
Beast didn’t let go of Logan. “Don’t do it, Logan.” He kept his voice even and calm although his body was tense. He knew getting in Wolverine’s way was dangerous. Logan wanted to kill Remy. His entire frame shuddered with the effort to not slice the younger man’s head clean off his shoulders. Through the window, he could see Rogue make her way down the snow covered path that led away from the front entrance.
He gruffly acknowledged the bigger man, before shrugging the big blue hand off his shoulder. Spinning on his heel, he left the room, grabbing his leather jacket before going outside. Seeing where Logan was intending to go, Gambit rushed to follow, but Beast stepped in his way.
“I think your company is not what the young lady desires at the moment my young friend.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed. “Get out of Gambit’s way, Doctor McCoy. ‘Dis does not concern you.”
Beast smiled for the benefit of the children watching them. “I think you have done quite enough this morning, Monsieur LeBeau. I suggest, strongly, that you wait for our Rogue to approach you. Vous comprends?”
Remy clenched his jaw. His deep respect for the doctor warred with the jealousy surging through him. Hank saw the play of emotions run across Gambit’s face and looked him sympathetically. “It’s her choice to make.”
Gambit released his breath harshly. He wasn’t a stupid man. He was just a man deeply in love. He knew the doctor was right. He recalled the feel of Rogue’s lips, and how she returned his kisses last night. Looking out the window in the direction of where he last saw Rogue, he hoped it was enough.
Rogue swung her arms, stomping through the fresh fallen snow angrily.
She needed to get as far away from the mansion as possible. It was bitterly cold, but she didn’t care, relishing the shock of frigid air against her burning skin. She was beyond furious, angry with Remy for the display of ownership he put on in front of Logan, angry that what started out as a wonderful Christmas morning had deteriorated into a petty pissing contest between the two men. So many students saw what happened, she was mortified.
And she was angry with Logan. He had no right to look at her like that, like she betrayed him. There was nothing between them, he made that quite clear. He couldn’t expect her to sit back and not live her life. She was a hot blooded woman with wants. Needs. He wasn’t willing to fulfill them, so she had every right to find someone who would. The Wolverine didn’t want her, but evidently he thought no one should as well.
What the hell was that?
She drew her ears back and crouched into a fighting stance. He was near.
“Fuck off Wolverine,” she snarled, keeping her bone claws sheathed, but just barely. “Ah don’t want you here.”
He appeared from the side of her, stepping out from behind some of the trimmed bushes that encased the garden. “You don’t know what ya want kid.”
“Ah want you to leave me alone,” she snapped at him. She hated how calm he looked, so composed while she was a bundle of anger and resentment. She turned around and retraced her steps, not trusting herself be near him. He fell in step with her, his long legs easily handling the depth of the snow.
“Disappointed I ain’t the swamp rat?” So he wasn’t so unaffected after all, she noted.
She didn’t slow down, kicking the snow, the cold wetness on her feet and legs a welcome sensation. She didn’t answer him. With a powerful stride of those long legs, he stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. She kept her eyes averted from him.
“Get out of my way Wolverine.”
He looked down at her, her nose and ears tipped pink from the cold. Pulling the jacket off his shoulder, he wrapped it around her. She tried to shrug it off, but he held onto her shoulders, preventing his jacket from falling to the ground. She turned her face away from him, refusing to look at him.
He wanted to shake her, hard, wanted to yell at her for getting involved with the Cajun thief. Seeing that bastard kiss Marie infuriated him. Looking at her, he had the sudden impulse to kiss away the feel of the other’s mans mouth from her lips. His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Just how involved are you two?”
She wouldn’t answer him, remaining silent. Frustrated, he let go of her and ran his fingers through his hair. “He’s not right for you, Marie.”
That got her attention. She looked at him sharply. “Oh, really? Tell me Logan, who is right for me?”
Seeing her expectant face, he responded coldly, “Not him.”
“Then who?” she persisted. “Since you know what’s best for me, tell me. Who is the right man for me? Ah swear Ah’ll throw myself at him, right now.” He stared at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw. The side of her mouth pulled up into a sneer.
“You don’t like that do you?” She took in an exaggerated sniff. “You’re jealous. Now, why is that? Why would the thought of me, with a man, make you jealous?”
His eyes flashed in anger, but a smirk appeared on his face. Tilting his head, he replied, “You don’t have a good grasp of yer sense of smell yet, kid.”
“Oh really?” she taunted, taking a step towards him. “Let’s see now. How about Ah go back inside and kiss Gambit again?” He looked down at her, not saying a word. Again, she inhaled deeply. “That smells like jealousy to me, Logan.”
“No,” he corrected her. “That’s the hate-on I have for Cajun dog.”
“Hmmm,” she wondered out loud, stepping around him now, taking in his tense stance, arms folded against his chest. “How about Ah go inside, go up to Hank, or,” she paused, now directly behind him, “wait for Scott to come back,” she finished, whispering near his ear, “and beg him to fuck me.”
And there it was. The scent of deep, dark jealousy.
Her point made, Rogue maliciously smiled, brushing past his furious frame to go back into the mansion. She was halfway there when she noticed a black long stretch limousine making its way past the school gates. As the vehicle got closer and closer, Rogue felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
From where he was still standing, Logan saw her come to a stop, halfway across the garden at the sight of the black vehicle.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
When the driver got out and stepped outside, Logan saw her take a step back as though hit. The chauffeur opened the back passenger door, and out stepped an older gentleman with the aid of a cane, who looked up at the mansion with an expectant, hopeful face.
Logan could see Rogue knew this man. She collapsed to her knees in the snow and her arms dropped to her sides as though leaden. Logan barely heard her, her voice less than a whisper.
“Daddy?”