see part one for notes and disclaimers
...this part rated R for language
I never really was privy to her schedule back before. I mean, there
wasn't much time for that sort of thing, what with the shit
the fan the night after I woke up the first time. After everything
blew over, after I woke up the second time, I was gone the day
after. No, I'm not really a stay for tea type of guy, and I
really think I am now, but something has changed.
First of all, Marie needs me. It's really hard to keep scowling
Scott like I know I really want to and still think that thought.
officially her caretaker and it's my new mission in life to make
happy. And no, that thought doesn't phase me at all. Since
no where near by I think it's safe to admit why, as if it
obvious enough every time I look at her.
I *do* love that child. Child, hell. Woman. I'm in love with a
woman, and her name is Marie. I don't even have the heart to
Scott about Jean, which of course shocked the shit out of him. A
part of my manly pride wanted to know how Jean took it, but the rest
of me couldn't be bothered to pay attention long enough to find
Of course, that would be the other thing that has changed. Before,
it was just fantasies about a little piece of jail-bait. Granted,
remarkably intricate fantasies, but I wasn't here and she
there and before Xavier's SOS I had no idea if she even
me. And now, here I am, jail-bait she's not, and I give it six
tops before we find out if those fantasies of mine were creative
The scary thing is, I couldn't be happier. I still manage to
at Scott though. But I gotta say in his defense, he makes it easier
when he opens his mouth and dumb-ass comments come out. Like this
morning at breakfast. I take a moment to glibly congratulate him on
his ability to hoodwink a psychic long enough to get her to say
do', and what does he do? Say something stupid about my ability
stay in one place long enough to spell commitment, and right in front
of Marie. I was almost ready to do just that, right there at the
oversized kitchen table and make one hell of a scene cause maybe I
wouldn't just spell it out, maybe I'd carve it into his
when my little firecracker did it for me.
Looking up from her omelet she gave him one hell of an impressive
stare, at the same time putting her hand on my thigh. I figure she
did it to calm me down, make sure I didn't start a war, but that
thought was before she opened her mouth.
"C. O. M-M. I. T. M... E
N," then she paused,
staring. I was trying my best not to laugh at the look on
face. After what seemed to be a full minute but probably wasn't,
said the last letter.
"Still here," I chimed in.
Scott look at us, back and forth a couple of times, like we were
freaks of nature for our little display of whatever it was. He
finally shoved back from his empty plate and walked away.
A little while after all attention in the room faded away from the
two of us, Marie groaned and I looked over to see her forehead
resting on my shoulder. I cocked an eyebrow and craned my head down
so I could see her a little better.
"What's eating you, babe?" Obviously, Scott, but I
needed to know
for sure before I went on a murderous rampage. By the time she
responded I was already thinking of new ways to kill the shit and
make it look like an accident.
"Now I'm gonna have to go apologize to Scott. This
"What?" Hell, why would she want to do that?
She sighed and straightened up, but inched closer to me, both hands
back on my thigh. I leaned back so I could put an arm around her and
draw her as close as I could considering that we were still at the
kitchen table and were probably gathering stares again.
"Contrary to the majority vote," she drawled quietly, "I
is a nice guy and generally avoid trying to put him into
"Where's the fun in that?" I turned around to look at
behind me. Well, look, glare, same thing. One of Marie's
turned beet red and stammered out an apology, but Marie had my
attention quick enough. And it had nothing to do with all ten of her
fingers pressing down on my leg, the last few damn close to my hip.
No, nothing at all.
She sighed my name in frustration. When she stood up I nearly
whined. Apparently I looked the part of the neglected puppy, cause
she put her hand against the side of my face and smiled at me. Told
me she'd catch up with me at the Professor's office in a
and off she went in a soft rustle of denim and satin, leaving me to
think about how much she's affected me in such a little time.
I was staring into the dregs of my coffee, already beginning to feel
the effects of the caffeine wearing off when that damn grating voice
sounded again. I'd managed to ignore it before, I didn't
well that was going to work now.
"Rogue she seem pretty taken w' you, *Wolverine*,"
emphasizing that name like it carried disease.
"Remy, stop it." That was the girl next to me, the one in
who'd blushed earlier. She wasn't blushing now.
"Butt out, Jubilee, this ain't none of your business."
"No, Remy, you're wrong." There was fire in this
child's eyes, so I
just sat back with my arms crossed and watched the display. She
continued on without pausing to let him speak. "All of us
of us here loves Rogue, but apparently some of us care more
her happiness than others. I mean, God, Gambit! Did you even pay
attention here or were you too busy being pissed off that it was him
not you? Look at her plate." When the twit stared defiantly at
she repeated the order, yelling it.
"Look at it, dammit!" I glanced over to it myself. There
damn thing on it. What was the point?
"Do you remember the last time she ate that much during an entire
day, much less at one sitting? Cause I do."
She wasn't eating? I guess I never really
all the ramifications of that last transfer. I mean, flying,
a given, but
And my God, Remy, she *laughed*," the girl called Jubilee
had my attention again. "Rogue has been the North American
Posterchild for Anhedonia for the last two months and you don't
it's a remarkable thing when she *laughs*? Can't you be
she's finally taking an interest in something someone
it's not you? Or are you so selfish that if you can't make
happy, she should be miserable forever?"
"It's not like that," the put-in-his-place shit ground
"Then how *is* it?"
"He don't deserve her. We been here, standing by her all
everything, and where he been?"
"You mean other than in her head the entire time?"
"I *mean* he left her. Au revior, ma chere. And now he back,
one know why, or for how long. But dat don't matter, cause all
got to do is growl and everybody is all `Wolverine dis,' and
I was thinking about growling, just for the hell of it, see what
would happen, but the girl moved and the moment was gone
Jubilee got up from her chair and leaned over the table, hands flat
on the surface of the wood. "You know what? This is stupid. I
don't even care. I'm her friend, but it's her life. If
it makes her
happy to be all googly-eyed with the meanest motherfucker on our
side, I say put another steak on the grill and offer him a beer."
She stared at him for a while before leaving, maybe waiting for a
response. She didn't get one.
Meanest motherfucker? I never claimed to be Mr. Congeniality, but I
never really thought of myself as the worst either.
I gotta say, I think like it.
In a pretty little place in my head I sit in a comfy chair and read
feed back all day long. Except that there isn't any right now, and
that pretty little place isn't so pretty anymore, so won't you tell
me what you're thinking?