Secrets
A/N: Hey y'all. I'm re-posting this story thanks to a reader, Lisa Wilmot, because (unfortunately enough, as I've tried to explain) I forgot the rule about not posting Authors Notes and the original 'Secrets' was deleted. Not to mention the disk I'd had it saved on mysteriously disappeared, so her saving the story offline to read it and sending it to me is the reason this is here today, lol. And what made me even sadder, is that I had almost 300 reviews before it was deleted and now I'm starting over new ((tears)) lol. Is it awful of me to be so regretful of that? Anyways, thanks for reading and bear with me.
Summary: What if, after everything she went through, Rogue had gained control of her powers at an early age? And what if she simply decided not to tell anyone? But that wouldn't be the only secret she's been hiding from the world. In this story, I pretty much just shifted the whole 'Evolution' storyline down in time and made this about three years into the future as well (I don't know how far exactly since I don't think they said how old Rogue was at the end of the series). You'll figure it out. And in addition, Rogue and the rest didn't run into Gambit or any of the other Acolytes yet, though this starts just before 'Day of Reckoning'. Just imagine if Rogue didn't know Gambit was the enemy, or future enemy, and they met in New Orleans...
Part One
Rogue strolled through the doors of the dark, sultry little New Orleans nightclub, going straight to the bar as she'd been doing for the past few weeks. With just a signal to the bartender, she got her favorite drink in minimal time. They knew her here. And though, at nineteen, she was years away from being legal, it never mattered. She'd more than deserved the privilege- and not just for putting her life on the line all these years with the X-men. Taking a sip of the smooth, savory bourbon, she chuckled.
All these years she'd been taking two months away from being a student and an X-man to come here on her motorcycle (with nobody able to stop her); and everyone had been saying how much like the Wolverine she was- but no one had any clue just how much. Well, except maybe the professor and Jean, but she had really tough mental shields and they were getting stronger each day- the very fact that hadn't been repeatedly called to Xaviers' office over the years or so lectured by Jean for her sins was testament to her growing abilities. Knocking back the rest of the glass, she quickly got another one and smiled gratefully at the understanding bartender- who was a fellow mutant and a confidant.
Rogue knew the shots would keep on coming as long as she wanted (or as much as was safe), with little cost, but she only needed a few. The first time she'd come in there he'd asked, 'What are you trying to forget?' so softly and concerned. His voice alone inspired her to respond- and when she turned to meet his gaze there was no thought to brush his questions away. So she'd tossed back a drink, gave him a wry smile, and answered, 'The world. Just the world.' And his perception had been surprising. Even more so the hidden wisdom in his eyes, though he never said a word. But she soon realized that there wasn't enough alcohol, wasn't enough power, for what she wanted.
So she just settled for forgetting her life, doing the best she could. And here, for the two months she took for herself, she was someone else. Or maybe, for once, her true self. She didn't know anymore- but that suited her just fine. Plunking her glass down with a blessedly light feeling and that warming sensation in her stomach, she moved out onto the dance floor as a new song began. In doing so she let her now shoulder-length hair down, closed her eyes, and gave over to the rhythm. Here there was no X-men, no pain or responsibility or fear. Here there was no Rogue; there was only Marie. And she was free.
All eyes were on her as she flowed with the music, blending her own style with that which she subconsciously still had from Kitty to hypnotize with her darkly sensual movements. And an enchantresses' half-smile lifted her full red lips, knowing that she made more than half of them sweat. They were the same ones who had been watching her every night, along with some new ones. But they weren't who Marie danced for now as she swayed and undulated, her wide, smoky green eyes occasionally opening to capture those of a chosen few as the night rolled on. No, more often than not it was for herself.
Though as she danced, her mind expanded to encompass the entire club, using the powers she's absorbed from Jean and learned to control. As it did, touching all the minds there, she found a soul that blew her away, a man unlike any other she'd ever encountered save one. He was here; the mysterious, sparkling light that had drawn her here so many times before only to leave her in the dark. So she danced for him, sight unseen, until her song wound down and melted into another from an almost endless stream of music. Then her eyes opened again and her hands drifted reluctantly back to her sides as she stood there just a moment longer in the soft glow of the spotlight, pleasantly flushed, before strolling back to her seat.
And as she sipped at the cool liquid of her drink, Maries' now sparkling orbs scanned the room, pausing to flirt as the guys who'd been admiring her were given the chance to stop her off the floor and entice her. The technique might've been completely not her style, at the other end of the scale in fact, but who was to say it wasn't just her speed? A huntress' speed. Getting a refill on the icy margarita she usually switched to after hours of dancing, she sensually pressed it to her heated skin, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. But hearing gasps from both near her and across the room, she groaned almost inaudibly while lifting heavy lids, glass still pressed to her face.
That's when Marie saw the tall, auburn-haired man with a goatee and sleek, dark shades coming towards her. She judged him to be at least three years older than her and as hardened by the years as she was. A dream formerly veiled by shadows. And she couldn't tear her gaze from him as it seemed fixated there. Something struck her then, deep inside, and she knew he had to be the one her mind had found and her soul recognized as its match. She also knew that she wouldn't be taking any of those men around her back to her hotel room this trip. She couldn't. Eyes locked even through the barrier over his eyes, the stranger came to stand in front of her and just wordlessly held out his hand, compelling her.
Everyone around her knew him well, at least by reputation; they feared him or were enchanted by him or both, but she wouldn't listen to anything their minds were subconsciously whispering to hers. As if in a trance, she set her drink down on the counter and stepped forward to take the pro-offered hand, letting him lead her back onto the floor. The crowd parted and, in an odd coincidence, as lower song came on, giving them both an excuse to put their arms around each other. Not that she'd really needed one. And while they danced, faces close, she saw the sexy tilt of his lips that told her over anything else that he was the one who had ordered the slow dance. For them.
With her secret smile, Marie lifted her head from his shoulder where it had rested a second before, brushing her lips across his cheek as her fingers floated up to the side of his head. As if he somehow caught on to what she was going to do, his hand came up the same time she grasped his shades, wanting to see the eyes she knew he hid from the world. But he was too late and she was standing there holding the sunglasses as he held her wrist, tense, like he was waiting for her reaction to his extraordinary red-on-black eyes. Then she smiled slowly, tucking the shades into the inner breast pocket of his worn brown trench coat and pressing herself closer to his lean, muscled body. Thus turning the tables on him.
She'd known that he was special, that he would've had to be a mutant too- she knew that the same way she'd known that she would someday find him here in New Orleans. Well, not so much him as the answer to her unhappiness and her own fulfillment, which he was. The man relaxed, exhaling, and wrapped his arms tighter around her, fingers smoothing back her hair. "Chére, you sho' know how to make a mans' heart beat faster," he laughed softly in her ear. "Marie," she whispered breathily, nuzzling his neck. "My name is Marie." Her heart pounded erratically as she breathed in his warm, spicy scent, skipping a beat at the husky sound of his laugh. He smiled, his long fingers stroking her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered as her breathing sped up.
That was another of her many secrets- she'd been able to control her powers for over two years now. But she still kept it from everyone, denying herself touch away from her two months in New Orleans to maintain that tough, untouchable façade, to protect herself in a way. Though her hunger was stronger than ever now that the one thing she wanted was within reach. "Marie," he repeated almost on a sigh, the way he said her name a caress on its own. Her heart just about stopped at the look in his beautiful eyes. "De name is Remy," the object of her desires imparted on her. "Remy LeBeau." His name rolled through her mind, settled on her tongue rich and sweet. It fit him perfectly. She couldn't imagine him as anything but that. And his accent... Marie shivered. Remy LeBeau.
"The beautiful one," she murmured, trailing her fingers from the corded muscles of his chest to his strong shoulders to his handsome face before sliding to his thick auburn hair. "You speak French, chérie?" he asked with a grin. "Fluently," she answered throatily, eyes fixed hungrily on his lips. To punctuate her statement, she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groaned and brought her even tighter against him, one hand on her lower back, and swallowed her gasp as she keenly felt the hard length of him. "Maybe we should get out of here," she panted, head spinning.
Remy's eyes were smoldering as he just watched her for a moment, equally dazed. Then he laughed, his smile dazzling. "Oui," he said on a breath, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "Bien sur, let's go." He took her hand, fingers threading with hers as he took a cursory look around. Then his gaze returned to hers, and she could've sworn the glint there was almost possessive before it disappeared again; Remy sliding his shades back on, a slight smirk on his lips. "Remy's motorcycle is jus' outside." "Motorcycle," she repeated with a nod. Even better. She found it just added to his considerable charm that he spoke in third person. Odd how little things that would've put her off before, with other guys, seemed like nothing when it came to Remy.
So how'd y'all like the first chapter? I'll try to update soon, as long as I can keep it al flowing. Reviews are definitely appreciated as always- after all, what would the story be without the fans right? ((bribes early reviewers with cookies)) lol. K, enough of that. Later everybody, CajunBelle.