Remy LeBeau: Here For Your Entertainment. (mssr_lebeau) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-08-25 18:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, anna marie (rogue), remy lebeau (gambit) |
Who: Rogue & Remy LeBeau
When: Monday Morning, 2:15am
Where: One of the big office towers in the OC.
What: Rogue and Remy both end up at the same place for the same reason. And get trapped in an elevator. Rogue’s life sucks.
Rating/Warnings: R. Maybe NC-17.
Status: Completed GDoc
Remy LeBeau had been in the OC for a little over a week now, he was starting to get a bit itchy, he had to admit. He hadn’t gotten his hands on anything. Nothing. He’d been so busy settling in and trying his best to keep himself from realizing how completely alone he was here (he hadn’t brought along his maid and butler, he was starting to regret that) that he hadn’t paid much mind to other things.
But when he’d finally started looking around on the internet, he’d found something. Some rich, snobby businessman (not unlike himself..) had recently purchased an original sketch of Michelangelo's. It was something the Cajun couldn’t get out of his mind. Of course he wanted it. Sure, he could have bought it, but why? How would he get his cheap thrills then? And if Remy couldn’t do anything exciting and worthy of getting up in the morning for, in his everyday life.. he could certainly do it at night.
He had something else planned for Tuesday.. but this? This was just a bit of fun before Tuesday.
He had waited outside until the appropriate time, then he’d made his way inside. A window had made a good entry point, through one of the janitor’s rooms on the bottom floor. He knew the guy smoked and kept the window cracked so no one would suspect he did it in the janitor’s room. That had been sickeningly easy.
The sketch was only going to be here tonight, he knew the man was having it picked up tomorrow morning to have it properly mounted and framed. Unless he wanted to take it from the man’s house, this was his only chance. And fifteen flights of stairs to the top was not of interest. So he, in that skin-tight black leather (you couldn’t be a thief without skin-tight black leather. It was a rule.) he’d plant himself in front of the elevator and push the button.
It wouldn’t be footsteps that had him turning, but rather that the doors in front of him were slightly reflective and he could see movement. He’d spin around as soon as he took notice and that pretty girl who’d managed to get the jump on him (surely she would), would have a knife up against her throat.
Then his eyebrows shot up.
Holyshit.
***
Rogue had… well she wanted to start being able to buy shit again. And the only way she was really good at that was thieving. Oh pick pocketing people on the boardwalks were fun and games, but every now and then she’d go get something bigger to pad her piggy bank.
She’d deck out in her soft leather, black and way too tight to be practical for daily use, her soft soled boots and wrapped her hair up in a tight bun and wrapped black cloth around it a la bandana style, just more so. She was not leaving a hair behind to get caught with. Uncool, uncool. She had a knife in her boot, lock picks carefully placed in a holder on her forearm.
She’d slipped inside in a different location, a window on the second floor was always loose she’d found after a few experiments, and a quick scurry up a fire escape solved that problem. She’d be headed to the elevator when she heard noise. So quick like a mouse and as quiet as one, she’d moved to see who was in her target building. Not cool poaching.
She’d get the drop on him and he’d get a knife to her throat. Emerald eyes sparkled a bit. A knife to the throat would in fact suck, but she’d heal enough to not die. But it wasn’t that. It was who was holding the knife that got her attention.
Well. fuck.
She wouldn’t speak, she didn’t want to cut herself by taking that chance. But she’d grin.
***
“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He let out a breath and pulled the knife away, rolling his shoulders back and taking a step away from her. Well, Rogue, there it was. You’d known there had to be something about him that wasn’t so perfect and upstanding, there had to be something that he did that wasn’t open to the public. Something that would give his PR guy a heart attack.
Well, here it was.
The knife was slipped back into the sheath on his arm.
“Stop smiling.” Demanded with a smirk as he turned his back to her to look at the elevator doors once again, leaning to hit the button a few more times. Like it’d make it move any faster. “There’s something in 1523A that I need.” There. He was showing you his hand, Rogue, please don’t make him have to stab you in the throat to get his hands on it.
The door dinged open and he looked over at her.
***
“We just run into each other in the most interesting ways.” she’d purr out, it was more purr and less snippy. It was a weird tone to hear from her lips, when she was so used to snarking at him.
She wondered if medical insurance and worker’s comp would cover the heart attack he’d give his PR guy with this hobby. The thought brought another smirk to her lips. Fingers moved to smooth out a nonexistent kink in her shirt. “Oh, surprise, I’m after something in 1528b. Fantastic timing.”
Well she’d told him she was a thief. Hadn’t she? Or at least said she’d done it before. She just had left off she was still one in her spare time. After all Logan’s shop was gone and that had kept her out of trouble.
She slunk past him and into the elevator, that smile still stuck in place. Sorry, Remy, it was not going anywhere fast.
***
This had to be fate, Rogue, telling you that he was all yours. If you wanted him. He still didn’t remember anything about you, but you at least knew what he was to you. Or, your dream self. Was it really coincidence this kept happening?
“Then by all means, be my guest.” He’d gesture into the elevator to indicate she should go in first, then he followed behind her. The door closed and he’d push the button for the fifteenth floor, then step back.
The elevator music was surprisingly loud in the silence.
“Stop smiling.” He would insist again, though he hadn’t looked over at her. He knew she was grinning about this.
***
Fate was annoying like that. But Rogue was always weighing Fate against advice and her friends had told her this mans dream self was bad for her. But was he really? She wasn’t sure but she couldn’t deny that this kept happening. At least it wasn’t a car this time.
Nope. She was going to not stop smiling. Because it was too freaking funny. “Nope. Can’t make me.” she’d say as she tapped a finger to her lips. They were lucky, this was an older building. They hadn’t gotten around to cameras in the elevators. Which was nice, because that meant Rogue, who’d avoided all areas with cameras, would not worry about her face being out there, and he’d keep his PR guy from dying of heart attacks and ulcers and all sorts of other maladies.
“Why do they even bother keeping elevator music going after hours anyways?” she’d ask, lazily.
***
“To give us something to listen to while we ride in the elevator.” It was so simple.
“You know, this isn’t as funny as you think it is. I’m just.. picking up some papers I left here the other day.” Lied easily, a smile curling his lips as he said it. Only then would he glance over at her and raise his eyebrows. “I don’t want to bother him during office hours and besides, I need that information.” He was so full of shit!
“This is all very respectable and legal.” Of course the sharp shit-eating grin on his face said otherwise. Oh, Rogue, and he was handsome with that grin, it was nothing like those PR smiles.
***
“Oh of course it is. Wearing skintight black leather to go pick up papers, legally, at 2 in the morning.” she’d say blinking innocently. “Is there an Ocean in Arizona you want to sell me?” she’s smile. Sweetly.
“This is exactly as funny as I think it is. Well now at least, you’re making me grin without me wanting to kick you, so it’s a plus.” she couldn’t help it. Who would have known? She adjusted the covering on her hair.
“And that? Is a nice looking grin you got there.” she’d admit, not bothering to lie, because it was a nice grin. So much better than those PR smiles of his. She wanted to wipe those off with a good backhand. This? This one could stay.
***
“I’m glad you noticed.” That it was skin tight, that was. “And yes, in fact, I have. So let me know if you’re in the market. It’s really draining my liquid funds.” Cheeky, wasn’t he? He always was. But somehow, this was a little different.
Because he was giddy, he hadn’t done this in two months. He’d been getting twitchy.
“I’m sure you’ll want to kick me again soon enough.” Glancing at the numbers as they ticked on, he’d soon be looking back at her. “Thanks. And you’re especially ravishing in that get-up, smile inclusive. I’m not going to lie, you’re making these pants a bit tighter than they were, it’s getting a little painful here.” His eyes were sparkling in the dim light of the elevator. Brimming with life tonight, this one. Like this was the most fun he’d had. Ever.
It might be.
***
She knew that giddy feeling. Every time she’d go out on a slightly bigger mission, she’d get that way. The thrill was enough to make her bounce before she’d get serious and get to work. She? Rather liked not being caught. She missed Gin, he was a good person to learn from. And Renji too, he was fun too. A flicker of something then it was gone. They had gone their own ways. Leave them to it, Rogue.
“I don’t really like Arizona, you best find another buyer.” she laughed softly.
“Probably. You’re really good at that.” the making her want to kick him part. “There’s no point in hiding, it’s just so much easier when wearing stuff that’s practically painted on. Never got caught on a ledge because of a loose shirt this way. But it’s pretty much painted on.” she’d grin, a half flirty smile curling her lips afterwards.
***
“You couldn’t afford me anyway.” His ocean, that was.
But then she was talking about her uniform and he was glancing her over, that grin widening out more. “Yeah. I’d say it is.” He was enjoying the view.
The door dinged open. “After you.” A sweeping gesture of his hand.
No cameras in the hall, but they’d need to worry when they got into the offices.
***
“A right shame that is.” she’d muse, sarcastically.
“Works doesn’t it?” she’d flutter her lashes again as she headed out into the hall. This is where her nerves kicked up a bit, she hated dodging cameras when she got into the offices or other rooms, it just wasn’t her favorite game. It’s why she more often than not stuck to the small stuff.
Ripping off tourists on the beach was easy.
She’d swept out of the elevator into the hall, tipping her head to him in a gesture that was all smiles more than anything else. Rogue was not going to betray her nerves to him. “Luck.” she’d say, before she headed towards her office.
***
“It definitely works for you.” He would stroll out of the elevator after her, a much more sedate and lax strut than her tighter movements. She was already betraying her nerves. It made his lips curl up. It had to be exceedingly obvious that he was the more experienced one here, just from his clear and unwavering confidence.
“Break a leg.” Returned. He would be moving more slowly, more deliberately. She would get to her door before he got to his, though his was closer. She would be breaking out her lock picks and Remy would be pulling out a key. He’d done this a few times there, dear, he always went the easy route if he could. Lift the guys keys, get a copy, put them back before he noticed. Really saved time.
So unlocking that door, he’d simply step right inside and lean to look at the little alarm. A few beeps, then a long beep. Hm. A few more beeps.. and a ding. He’d stick his head back into the hall and smile at her, then go back in and close the door behind him.
Smug bastard.
***
Rogue was much more at home in a room full of people. She’d put on that nice dress, the ones she adamantly refused to admit she owned, and came home with more money than she needed for a few months. But the days she needed to fund herself for longer were the reasons for this.
She figured if she kept getting hit by cars, she was going to need it. Her healing wasn’t gonna last forever, after all. Rogue liked to be quick like a bunny, not relaxed about it. She never spent more time than she had to. Even if she’d gotten the alarm codes by over hearing someone tell a new person what they were, she hadn’t gotten a key. Which was fine. She could pick a lock pretty quickly and that rush of nerves would fade under the focus.
Once she was in, the codes would be punched in quickly. He could be a smug bastard, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a glower at this point. Her office held a couple of cameras over the front desk, keeping tabs of anyone who checked in. She of course picked a date when they were overhauling their security and the ones in the back weren’t operational yet. Rogue did her homework, thank you very much.
***
By the time she made it out, Remy was down at the end of the hall, waiting by the open elevator door.
It was painfully clear he was waiting for her.
So when she came out of that office, he’d smile and lift his eyebrows. Ready, kiddo?
***
If he called her kiddo she’d have his head. She hated that nickname. It was awful. She would come back out of the office with one layer of her headwrap was a bag, carried in neatly on her head. It was now slung neatly over a shoulder.
She rolled her eyes at him. Waiting for her. What a loser.
But she’d pad down the hallway anyways.
***
He’d allow her into the elevator first, then go in after and hit the button for the ground floor. “Get what you came for?” Asked simply as he looked over that bag she had. “What is it?” He was curious. Of course he was. The Cajun, for all intents and purposes, was a cat. Just think about it for a moment, you’d put the pieces together. Feline all the way.
***
“It’s for me to know and you not to find out.” simply stated as she leaned on the wall, bag pressed firmly between her and it. He was a cat, she was… something else entirely. She was quick to anger and feisty. And also secretive. She didn’t spill secrets.
“Did you?” she’d ask, brow raised in reply.
***
“Of course I did.” And he had no trouble telling her as much. Hell, he had no trouble showing her. He’d flip open his pouch as the elevator headed down, pulling out a clear bag and holding it up. There was a four inch by six inch sheet of yellowing paper inside with a charcoal sketch on it.
***
“Why am I not entirely surprised?” she had no idea what it was, really, besides art. But it fit in the decor of his house. Artsy. And probably worth more than the entire of her ‘salary’ for the last ten years combined.
“Not that I have a clue about art, but I’ll bet it’s expensive.” she’d say with a shrug. Rogue was not one to share her spoils. She wanted to get out of here, get home and then worry about padding her empty piggy bank.
**
“It’s a sketch by Michelangelo, so yes, it’s relatively expensive.” He’d tuck it back away. Really, the worth didn’t matter to him, it was all about the art, the history behind it. And she had to know he wasn’t going to sell it. Dealing in stolen art was so difficult because you had to have the right fence for it. Remy didn’t have one.
Everything he stole he kept for himself.
Give it time, Rogue, the Penthouse would get some flavor to it when he decided he was going to stay here in the OC. He’d have some of his own art brought over.
***
She let out a low whistle - she knew who Michelangelo was. “Oh the press is going to love that one.” she laughed softly. No, she didn’t think he’d fence it, that was a very, very hot item right there. That would be harder to get rid of than quite a few things she could think of.
Interesting. Rogue avoided stealing art. It was always a pain, even with the right contacts, and she knew a few, but art and her stayed far away from one another. Jewelry, however, was pretty easy to break down and get rid of. Even if it was a high value piece, she wasn’t worried about taking a loss and breaking it into single diamonds. The gold was meltable and sellable that way.
She also knew how to make jewelry so she’d make her own when she felt like it. Fun hobbies are fun.
***
If he ever found out she took a priceless piece of jewelry and melted it down and sold the diamonds to a pawnshop or something equally as terrible, he’d go ballistic. Jewelry was as much art as paintings and drawings. He had quite a few pieces of jewelry.
“No they won’t.” He turned his head to smile over at her.
Then the elevator jerked to a stop on the sixth floor.
The emergency lights came on.
Oh. Fuck.
***
She never took priceless pieces and melted them down. Okay. So there was that one time. She just took the nice ones and did that to them. Diamonds were easier to part with than whole pieces. And she abhorred pawn shops. They were sleazy and not worth her time or effort. She may look like a classless tramp, but she had standards.
A smirk curled her lips. “Interesting.”
then the lights came on and the elevator stopped. That smirk faded. “Well fuck.”
***
“I’m good.” Was all he’d say about her commenting that his method was interesting.
When he took things from people, they never knew. It was one of the many ways he kept himself. No one could be searching for the item if they didn’t know it was missing. He always took them after they were verified as authentic, of course.
He’d let out a breath when the elevator stopped, though, and would move to press the button to open the doors a few times, then he’d shake his head and pull out his cell phone.
No signal.
Fuck.
“I’ll have you know, I’m willing to eat you if we’re going to starve in here.” Joking. Of course he was. It was what he did.
***
She just sighed. This place was really aiming to kill her wasn't it? She rubbed her forehead.
"You'd make for a much better meal than I." She'd say back as she set her bag down . She never brought her cell on missions. Her luck she'd forget to turn it to silence.
"Isn't this delightful."
***
“Yes, but I’m more likely to survive this. So if we begin to starve, it’s nothing personal, but I’m going to kill you and eat you.” He pressed his hand against the wall of the elevator and traced gloved fingers along it before pulling them back abruptly, as if burned.
“Unless you brought some snacks with you?” Oh, Good Lord. He turned to look aside at her. It had just dawned on him.
What if she had to pee? Women and their tiny bladders!
***
She had a bladder of steel. If he ever made a remark like that to her she'd slap the shit out of him.
"Where would I hide snacks in this outfit?" She'd ask, rolling her eyes at him like he was crazy.
"And why do you think you'd be better fated to survive?"
***
Wow, he could really get the shit slapped out of him if he called her a kid with a tiny bladder, huh?
His eyes immediately dropped to her breasts when she asked where she could hide something like snacks.
Then they slid to her rear.
And they were coming right back up with a smile.
“Because I have more muscle. I could live longer without food. So after I ate you, I’d be able to survive long enough to be rescued.” Of course. His logic sucked.
***
"Told you no snack hiding here. Sorry I just don't hide them in my leathers." She'd rest a hand on her hip.
"Sucky logic man, you're not going to use me to survive. Find another way." She snorted.
***
“What happens if you get stuck in an elevator and have to survive for months before you’re rescued?” He’d reach out to lay his hand against the wall of the elevator again.
He wanted to get out of here as desperately as she did, but he wasn’t going to be as public about it. No, he was going to act like he was enjoying this.
He wasn’t.
***
She wasn't even panicking. She wanted out but she wasn't losing her shit over it. "We can try going up" she'd suggest, but she wasn't sure if that would work well.
"Well in this day and age, if I got stuck on one for months there would be major problems. I mean how does one miss an elevator for months?"
She sighed.
**
Remy was very carefully staying calm.
He’d caused his remote control to explode just four hours ago, when he’d been upset that his favorite show wasn’t on. Well, technically, he’d caused the batteries to explode and they’d taken the remote with them.
“I don’t know, this is California. It’s not exactly the land of the high IQs.” He’d pull his hand away from the wall and tilt his head back to look up at the light. Stepping back and turning, he’d reach up to pull the soffit off of the light and the latch that allowed the thing to swing open would be visible. It made him smile. As long as they could get out of here without her making him emotional, they’d be fine.
He didn’t want her finding out, after all, what was going on.
***
As if it was going to be that easy. Debris littered the top of the elevator. So the hatch opened, but there was stuff up there. Blocking the way. Heavy too.
"This is California, there aren't many smart folk left I think." She'd pondered as she brushed a hand over the wall. She'd try to figure it all out.
She'd figure it out. "It could be fun. I suppose. Stuck in an elevator."
***
Of course. When he pushed up to try and open the door-- it opened up, not in-- there’d be no moving it. Shit. Huh. He’d move back to the wall and put a foot up on the rail, his hand finding the adjacent wall to allow him to push up and balance, fingers splayed against the wall as he reached with the other hand to smooth his fingers along beneath the bulb. Dents. It wasn’t jammed, then, something was laying on it.
He’d tug his hand away from the wall and give a push with his feet to drop those few feet back down to the floor of the elevator and press a hand against the floor, just looking up at the maintenance hatch.
Great.
He’d put a pack of playing cards in his utility belt. He could charge one of those.
Well. He could hold onto it and get into a shouting match with her and hope it charged, but he didn’t think it’d have enough force to knock that stuff off. Maybe if he did it multiple times?
It was clear the wheels were turning as he stared at the ceiling.
***
"Cat got your tongue?" Rogue watched him the entire time. Let him try to be the noble hero. If there was stuff in the way she should be able to use borrowed strength to get it but well it was funnier watching him panic.
"Claustrophobic?".She'd ask listening to his heart rate.
**
He was doing a bang up job of being completely calm.
It wouldn’t last forever.
His heart rate was fine, steady, and even.
“Nope.” His short answer. “I’m trying to save our lives here, Princess, I’ve seen movies. The elevator stops and then we drop six stories. You might be a starfish, Chere, but I’m not.” His limbs wouldn’t grow back.
***
“Starfish? Oh that’s fantastic.” she laughed softly as she sat down for the moment. “Continue on brave hero, then” so on and so forth. “Save the day, will you? Rescue the princess, etcetera.” she wasn’t mocking him, but she did find his analogies and source material kind of funny.
“You know that unless someone wants to off you and knew exactly your plan that uh, that’s not how it works, right? Only very rarely.” she’d smile faintly. “And I? Am not that unlucky.”
***
“I’m going to call you that from now on.” Stated with a sudden smile as he looked over at her again. “Ma petite étoile de mer.” It came off his tongue in a sing-song manner.
Pushing slowly out of his crouch to be standing again, he’d continue looking around. Of course, Rogue simply wasn’t tall enough to reach up and push against the ceiling. There was nothing to stand on. She’d need the other Thief. And Remy could reach the ceiling, but he didn’t have the strength to push it open. In fact, he’d try that a few times before giving up. He might have been able to do it if he were laying on his back and doing a bench press. Maybe. But like this? He was on his toes to get his elbows bent enough to put some amount of force into it. And nothing.
“I saw Die Hard. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there looking to kill you, and maybe I’m just stuck in the same elevator. That’d be Karma, wouldn’t it?” He’d go over to the doors then and press his hands against them to push, but they didn’t move much. So he’d move to one side and grasp the edge of the door where the two met and he’d pull. The doors began to pull open.. to reveal nothing but wall. Between floors.
Great.
“Huh.”
***
Of course she wasn’t tall enough. She was tiny. It was okay. It meant she could squirm though places other people couldn’t. “Cute.” she’d say with a roll of her eyes “but I won’t always grow things back. It’s already fading.” she’d shrug, she wasn’t sure at this point if she got blown up like Logan did, if she’d come back from that. She didn’t want to find out.
“Oh yeah okay, mr. Rich Boy, I’m sure there’s far more people willing to kill you than there are to kill me. I’m just a dirt poor southern girl in a big city.” she laid that accent on thick for that one.
“If I sat on your shoulders I could probably push the stuff out of the way. Maybe. Not much leverage with the hatch shut. Dunno how much give there would be.” then she looked over as he opened the doors.
“Oh. Peachy.”
***
“Rich boy? I give you a sweet, thoughtful nickname that I find endearing and represents my feelings towards you,” oh, he was laying it on thick, “And you call me ‘rich boy’? I’m insulted.” It was a tease. Of course it was.
“If you want to try, I’m up for it.” Because there was nothing but wall to be had beyond those two doors. Disappointing.
***
“I am very poor at nicknames, okay?” she huffed at him. “I mean I don’t even go by Anna to anyone here. It’s only a nickname as far as I’m concerned anymore.” she rolled her eyes at his mock insult. “I’m not entirely sure what you called me, but I think it was something about a starfish?” she guessed.
“Then lets try. No promises but it wouldn’t hurt.” She hadn’t really thought it through. She had the sheer strength (thanks Logan!) to augment her own and possibly move the stuff. If there hadn’t been a metal trap door in the way. She had no idea how much stuff or how long it was, covering the door.
***
It could have been anything up there. But with the trap door opening up instead of in, it’d be much harder to get the thing open. But they had to try. They couldn’t be here in five hours when the building opened up at seven. Talk about being caught red-handed!
“Yes, it was something about a starfish.” She could have that for now. She got the gist, clearly. “Do you want to stand or sit?” He could let her put a boot in his hands and she could lean into his shoulders, or she could sit on his shoulders. Standing in his hands would definitely get her a good two feet taller.
***
That would be a very quick end to both of their thieving ways. For a little while anyways until they both had the itch and had to scratch it or got nuts. She smiled at him. “Interesting. Just remember this starfish won’t always grow back.” she laughed against about it, because it was an amusing mental image.
“I’ll stand. Don’t worry. I’ve got balance.” she would wait until he was ready them clamber, carefully and with perfect balance into his hands. She’d tense her thighs and as a cheerleading coach once told her, the one year she’d bothered to try to make her family happy, pinch that penny - and she’d brace her hands on the door, muscles tensing to push upwards, She’d test it then almost punch upwards to try and jostle things loose.
***
“Peut-être pas, mais vous serez toujours aussi belle.” Perhaps not, but you'll always be just as lovely. French. Clearly she didn’t understand it. So he knew he could use it around her to say whatever he pleased.
“You can lean into me.” Reminded as he bent and let her step up, then slowly straightened up and held her as still as he could, looking up as well.
She could push all she wanted, but not much would happen. It would jump and jiggle a little, shift-- and then the lights cut out.
It would be right then that the Cajun’s heart lept and his pulse picked up immediately.
Merde.
He’d drop her.
The reason was clear in an instant-- he was jerking his left glove, glowing pink, off as quickly as he could and flung it away. It exploded with a *Pufht* on impact. It rocked the elevator a little but not nearly so bad as to cause any issues.
It was pitch black again once the light from the glove was gone.
***
She didnt know any french, beyond what she picked up here and there back home. It was sporadic, varied and made next to no sense. As a smaller child she’d picked up words she liked hearing. And that was about it. Four years of High School french had bored her to tears.
Rogue leaned into him, lightly, and then the lights went out and she went crashing to the floor with a very affronted sounding noise. Then the glove and the pink and it lit up the sad smile on her face. Oh, good, the OC hadn’t left him alone. Peachy.
“Well that was not my intention.” she’d mutter, rubbing the back of her head where she’d bounced it off the floor. “And nice to see that the OC loves you just like it loves the rest of us.” she’d mutter as she lay there for a moment while the aches vanished under the healing factor. She hadn’t been hurt bad, just left spots tender, but those disappeared.
***
She wouldn’t get a reply from the Cajun, though. Just the sound of breathing and the rapid beat of his pulse pounding in her ears. He’d put himself in the corner, and had ended up sitting on the ground. He was counting over and over again in his head, trying to keep himself calm. Count, Cajun. English. French. Russian. Spanish. Japanese. Back to English. French. Russian. Spanish. Japanese. Back to English. French--
Just keep counting, Remy, it would go away if you counted.
***
She pulled herself up. Trust her to end up with the man who was claustrophobic. Son of a bitch this place hated her. Her life sucked. She crouched on her toes, far enough away to not make the small space smaller. One hand arched out far enough to snap fingers before his face.
“Breathe, we’ll get out of here. Please do not panic in here.” I will have to knock your dumb ass out and figure it out myself, was left out of the conversation for politeness sake. She would though, knock his ass out if he looked to go critical on her. Rogue had no desire to be in a metal box with a man blowing stupid shit up.
Or be the cause of him blowing up his pretty prize in his bag.
**
When those fingers snapped near his face he jerked suddenly and slammed his head back into the elevator wall behind him, causing a grunt. He’d squeeze his eyes tight and bring both hands up to cradle the back of his head. Fuck.
“Je vais bien. S'il vous plaît arrêter servile sur moi. Je ne suis pas un enfant. Ne me dorloter. Je vais bien. Je vais bien. One. Deux. Trois. Je vais bien.” I'm fine. Please stop fawning over me. I'm not a child. Don't coddle me. I'm fine. I'm fine. One. Two. Three. I'm fine. Apparently, the Cajun lost the ability to speak English when he was freaking out.
He just shut his eyes tighter and braced his feet against the floor of the elevator, shoving his back more firmly into the corner. “Ja vais bien.”
***
She rolled her eyes. Whatever. If he lost his shit she was going to beat the snot out of him and wipe the floor with him until he was better. Rogue was short tempered and it was not getting any longer as the night wore on.
Yep, going to have to go absorb some french speaker. It was on her list of things to do one of these nights. She’d never had this list before she met him. he was going to drive her absolutely mad.
And that was just the incessant jabbering going on. If he didn’t collect himself soon she was going to slap him then wipe the floor with him. Then figure it out while he figured out who he was again.
She rolled back into the opposite corner and laid her head back and closed her eyes. If he drove her mad she was going to be rather cross with him.
***
One she stopped talking, he did too, gone quiet again and doing it inside his head. He wasn’t in hysterics, he had it under control. He knew what to do, he’d clearly been in this position before. He had experience.
It’d take a good ten minutes there in the darkness before he swallowed and opened his eyes again. His heart rate had relaxed enough that it was nearly normal. Nearly.
“I’m sorry I dropped you.” His voice was tight, but that was to be expected. “Let’s try it again.” Really? What if he dropped you again?
***
“No we’re good. I don’t think it’ll budge, honestly.” she hadn’t opened her eyes again. She had been listening to his heart beat. Which was creepy but kinda of awesome too. Rogue loved this power sometimes.
“It didn’t budge an inch and I’m fine, really. I healed from the little bumps I took. It’s not a big deal.” no no it was she hated being dropped it was like her only major fear. But she’d smiled anyways and moved onwards.
Life hated her here. This was the least of her worries.
***
“Well maybe we could get the lights back on if we tried.” That was what he was worried about. Lights. He wanted to see, to know this elevator wasn’t quite as small as his mind was making it.
“Merde.” Just a whisper. He closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply. “Vous allez dire à tous vos amis à ce sujet et rire, n'est-ce pas, petite étoile de mer?” A quiet question-- the tone in his voice said it was a question. You're going to tell all of your friends about this and laugh, aren't you, little starfish?
***
She didn't understand him but the answer would have been no. They didn't know she still was all thief like. And didn't need to know. "Not sure what you asked."
Then she rolled to her feet. "Alright we'll aim to get the lights back. Let me know when to get back in your hands and don't drop me this time. Please."
***
“I won’t drop you. I swear.” It had been a shock earlier, he’d dropped her so he didn’t blow off his hand and her foot. The lights had gone off, his pulse had picked up, and the glove had charged.
He would carefully climb to his feet and run his hand along the wall to get to where he remembered the trap door being, then he reached out a hand to try and find her. When he hit her body, he’d grip. “I’m ready.” It was pitch dark.
Like being buried alive.
His heart rate picked up a little again as he thought about that, but he’d take a slow breath. “What’s your cup size?” Seriously?
***
She'd climb back into his hands and close her eyes. They were useless and she didn't want to be blinded. Fingers found the hatch, then she'd punch upwards again.
"Ain't telling"
****
“Oh, come on.” There you go, Rogue, banter with him, it would keep his mind off of the fact he was in this little box that he imagined was going to be buried in the ground at any moment.
Really, it wouldn’t take much for her to push on that door a few times-- then the lights came back on and he rest his temple against her thigh. Thank God. “So what do we do?” He turned his face as he asked, speaking against the leather of her leg.
***
She'd sigh as the lights came back on. "Nope such a playboy should be able to guess from a look anyways." She'd smile down at him then. "Figure it out."
She'd smirk at him talking against her leg. "Take a breather and stop thinking about the problem. Something will come to us."
***
He’d closed his eyes by then, just breathing against her thigh and enjoying the feel. After a few long seconds he’d open his eyes and turn to place her back against the wall, to give her a bit more balance, then he’d lower down to a knee and bend to put her back on the ground. He would stay kneeling there in front of her though and press his temple into the spot just above her knee, staring down at her boot as he did.
“I don’t like touching people because it reminds me of how alone I am.” And how alone he’d always be.
There you go, Rogue. For your troubles.
***
She settled her feet on the ground but made no move to pull away. She moved to rest a hand against him lightly.
"You don't have to be, you know." She'd say quietly, looking down at the top of his head. She didn't say if you weren't a pompous jerk all the time.
She sighed softly. "Want to know a secret?"
***
He wouldn’t say anything to her statement that he didn’t need to be alone, he just lifted a hand and rest it against her calf muscle to hold on.
“Oui, ma petite étoile de mer.” A quiet agreement that he did, in fact, want to know a secret.
***
"You know why I crave the same thing you hate?" She'd smooth a hair into place on his head light and barely there. "Because I know I will be alone."
She looked at the wall, sighing a bit. "Hell I don't deserve it anyways, why worry?" Lies, all lies. Even if she didn't believe it, she totally deserved to be happy.
***
“Then we’ll both be alone together.” As odd as that sounded. No, it wasn’t a proposition, it was just him saying that fate seemed to be sticking them together, and he’d come ‘round if she needed him. He, after all, didn’t have the same hatred for her that she carried for him.
His other hand came up between her legs and would rest on the back of her thigh, on that same leg. One hand cupping her calf, the other on the back of her thigh, his temple just above her knee. He was keeping himself calm and even as much as he was just enjoying being close.
“But you deserve better.” Than to be alone. She didn’t deserve to be stuck like him.
***
"Seems like it." She didn't say it was a bad thing. It wasn't. It wasn't great but she wasn't about to deny fate after three run ins like this. That was asking for trouble.
Rogue settled in stance, letting him hold what ever he wanted, within reason, draw whatever comfort from her she could provide. She ran her fingers through his hair lazily.
"I'm sure you do, too. Don't play martyr, that's my plan" she'd say half jokingly, half serious. Before she'd smile faintly. "You have the ability to fix it, you know. Me, well, my ability alone pushes me further from being with people and farther into hermitdom."
***
He laughed just some as she said that, lifting his head some to press his cheek against her thigh instead of his temple. “Of course I do.” Deserve better, that was. “It’s got nothing to do with deserving. You say I can fix it, but I can’t. I can’t change who I am anymore than you can. I can have any woman I want,” and he meant that, “Any one of them would be my wife.” He had no doubt of that. “But I can’t feel anything.” A few seconds passed before he spoke again. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t love any of them. They don’t mean anything to me.” And he wouldn’t marry a woman he didn’t love-- how was that fair to the woman?
No, he’d never settle down because he was incapable of feeling love. Sociopath.
***
She rolled her eyes at him. "I guess you just ain't met the right one. You, are a pessimist. I am a fatalist with optimistic habits. Get used to it. I'm stubborn about them ."
She'd slink to her knees. "My legs are locking." But she didn't move away from him. She was just a violent, shorttempered southern girl, what did she know, though?
***
“I’ve met plenty of women. Plenty of people. The only thing I’ve ever had any emotion towards is that fucking car.” That was why it was so important. He was hanging onto the only thing he could feel emotion about. Sure, he got angry, but that was it. There was nothing more. No worry or concern or elated happiness. Sure, there was lust, but nothing more. Not even friendship. How sick was that?
“Desole.” He’d uncurl his arms and lean back to let her slide down and sit on the floor with him. Then hazel eyes came up to hers. “34-D?”
***
She'd shake her head softly. "Piff you ain't met every single woman, woe is you. You never know when some women will walk" crash " into your life and kick start that heart. But go on keep being negative about it."
"It's fine." She'd sit down where she'd been standing. Wondering why she felt the absence of touch keenly. Lips curled, well fate was cruel.
"Ain't confirming or denying." She snorted.
***
“I’m right.” Replied with a little grin.
But do take note, Rogue. He’d just admitted to not being able to feel anything for a woman. For anyone. It meant he didn’t feel anything for you, either.
That had to be some sort of little slap in the face, didn’t it?
“You meet that right man, you let me know, I’ve had sex with girls without ever touching their skin.” Never, ever let it be said that this sick little puppy wasn’t a strange, kinky man.
***
"I'm good. I don't need it. I’m resigned to being sexless so I'm good." Lying through her teeth as she sidled away from him on that revelation from him.
Ugh. She'd been played and it was infuriating.
***
Oh.
...Oh.
He let out a slow breath and pressed both of his hands to the ground. “Oh, God, Anna.” Fuck. “I’m sorry.” Holy shit. “I..” Well, he couldn’t take it back now, could he? “I didn’t..” Oh God, had she actually cared what he thought about her? Had she wanted him to like her? “I shouldn’t have said that to you.” He was so sorry.
***
"Just shut up." It was easier to hate him.
She rose to her feet, brows furrowed, it wasn't going to work, shoving a claw in the hatch and using it to cut the hinge. She sighed. "Pick me up by the hatch." She was going to try anyways, a mask drawn over her face, cold indifference. She'd started to warm up to him then that.
***
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean anything. I was just talking.” He would remain kneeling there on the ground, looking up at her. “I could be so good to you if you let me.” And he could. He would be a good boyfriend, he’d be a good lover, a good husband. But it was all just this fantastic act. The sociopath had learned all of this by watching movies and television. He’d learned how to act properly.
He could be good to you.
No wonder you thought his life was a romantic comedy. That was where he’d learned how to act like a normal person.
***
She'd turn those dark.eyes to him. "Don't. Just. Don't. Its too late. I'll be here for you. Help you with whatever you need. I'll even be your friend but don't.".She'd look up.at the ceiling.
"A wise woman once said to me, 'the first thing out of someone's mouth was what they really felt, given time to think one comes up with what they think you want hear.' Id prefer the honest to the sugar coated."
"So don't backtrack. They weren't just words. And I get it,I do. I still think I'm right, but its your life. Not mine."
She looked all wrong hard edged. Jaw clenched. Eyes darker. It wasn’t a good look on her. She was meant be softer, strength hidden under the soft, but she could be as sharp as a razor when necessary. "Pick me up.I have an idea."
**
“They weren’t just words,” He agreed. “They were the truth, but you didn’t need to hear them and I didn’t need to say them. I’ve watched a lot of movies, Anna, I’ve watched a lot of people,” that was why he people watched all the time, it all made perfect sense, “I can do this. I could be good at it.” He could be good at lying, at convincing you that he could feel things, you could just pretend like this never happened. “I’m good at this.” Pretending to be normal. “Give me a chance.” He’d lie to you so well, Anna.
***
Rogue took in one very deep breath, whipped around and got down and into his face. "I said shut it. I'm not a girl swayed by facades, I don't even like your perfect life, although you're at least giving me something to like by not being perfect, but lying about it all, about something serious to me will not make me feel any better. So just. Stop." She was just this side of angry.
"I don't forgot things, Remy. I couldn't just sweep those words under a rug." Her expression softend a bit.
***
“This isn’t fair.” He insisted after a few seconds, shaking his head some. Like it was rules in a game. He could see how upset she was, see the muscles twitching as she tried to control herself. “I did everything right. I’m handsome, I’m charming, I’m nice. I was honest with you, I told you-- I told you because I thought you should know. I told you because I wanted to be honest, because I was sure you’d understand. You wouldn’t tell a man to shove off because he had no hand to wear your ring, you wouldn’t ignore a man with no legs just because he couldn’t carry you over the threshold.” He would remain on the ground though, kneeling there. It felt more comfortable to be away from the ceiling.
“You shouldn’t be counting me out just because I can’t feel anything. Just because I can’t love you. That’s not fair.” He pulled both hands up off the ground and sat more straight, back on his heels so he could watch her more comfortably. “I want to, it’s not my fault I can’t.”
***
She was so close to just freaking out on him it wasn't funny. But she took a breath. Sighed. "What isn't fair is even letting me think of you like that. If I ever fell in love, well it couldn't be reciprocated, so why would I hurt myself that way? No I’m mad because you don’t get how it’d be unfair to either of us. I understand and I do, but I cannot waltz in knowing that and knowing its one sided. Oh you’ll play the part, but its not the same."
She sighed. "I don't hate you. Hell despite it all, I’m actually liking your woe is me leather clad ass. Dont ruin it. I’d rather know than not, okay? I actually appreciate the honesty. And I’m not going to leave you to your merry life, I still think you're wrong, so I’ll be around to prove it. I’m just not buying into an act that hurts me more than you, who cannot feel, can understand. Thats not fair, and I know it, but it is what it is. Maybe had I not known I’d have been fooled still." She punched the wall
"I’m making a mess of this. Just shut up about it and let me process it all. Damn." She rubbed her knuckles. Rogue was trying, but it still made her mad.
***
He would just watch her as she spoke-- he wasn’t sure what to make of it, really. In one breath she said she thought he was wrong and that he could feel, then in the next she said she couldn’t be with him because he couldn’t feel. He just didn’t get it.
So he would be silent a few long seconds as she’d requested, then he spoke up more quietly. “You could teach me. I can learn. Maybe you’re right, and I can, and just don’t know it. You could show me.” That was good logic, right?
He’d slowly push up to his feet and reach out a hand to take hold of the hand she was rubbing. “I can learn.” Repeated.
***
It was fuzzy logic of a woman trapped in an elevator trying to sort out alot of things. Who said it had to make sense. She was about ready to brain herself trying to make it make sense.
The corner of her eye twitched but she didn't yank her hand away. "I don't know, oh I'm sure you could learn, I just don't know how to teach it. Its not... tangible, it just is" but she didn't say she was unwilling to try to help him.
Even if for some other poor girl who had no idea.
"You feel anything, not just going through the motions, but really feel it, anger, joy, thrill, pain. Even a smidge of one can help. No lies. Or nothing at all, all carefully mimicked?" She wasn't judging, just trying to find a baseline.
And look she wasn't yanking her hand back.
**
Did you really want to do this to yourself, Rogue? He looked so desperate now, he looked earnest and he sounded earnest and he was so easy to believe, like he was a real person. Maybe just that he couldn’t love. That was really how this whole thing was coming off, he just couldn’t love, because he was displaying other emotions. Worry, a bit of anger, desperation, sorrow, regret. It was all there, though he said he didn’t feel it.
Did you really want to do this?
It was too late now.
He let out a rush of breath and the expression left his face completely. He’d never been without an expression, not ever, he’d always been smiling or frowning or talking.. or something. But he looked surprisingly like a doll in that instant. Soulless.
“No.” A simple, factual word that came without a tone. “Except for that car.” There was something about the car that made him feel something, but he didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t pinpoint it. He felt something when he thought about the car.
And you’d wanted to blow it up.
***
No she didn't want to do this to herself. It was going to tax her sanity. Her very ability to stay functional. She wasn't sure when he said no she totally believed him. She was almost sure his panic moment was real. But she'd store it for later.
He going to hate her, because she.was capable of thinking up all kinds of creative things to try. As long as they weren't for her.
"It's something to build on, it's enough.".She was sure all the emotions could tied to that car. If something happened to it, she was sure it’d come out.
***
Oh, very good, Rogue.
The panic had been real. She’d heard it with her own ears. His heart had sped up. You couldn’t fake that. It was the same feeling he got when he drove that damn car. His heart sped up. The panic was real.
Of course, if something happened to that car, did you think it’d put him in a mental hospital? Good Lord, there was just no telling.
But a wide smile would spread out over his face when she said they could build on it. Yes, blood-curtling fear was a good thing to build on. Well, it was when that was all you had. “I can do this.” He’d promise her, lifting her gloved hand up so he could press his mouth to the knuckles. “You’ll see.” He’d convince you.
***
At his very calmest she would count the rate of his heartbeat. She had a wonderful memory and would immediately begin to count until she could make it as if her life depended on it.
You can't fool her ears forever.
Panic was a form of fear. Any emotion could lead back to it. Fear lurked everywhere. Getting it to come out and not get her blown up was key.
"I'll turn you into a human, promise." What was she thinking. Already the echos were not pleased, every one thought she was nuts. Ha.
"We'll figure it out." She'd give a smile at the gesture. "What was the thought behind that?" Poor Remy. They weren't out of the elevator yet and she wasn't going to play nice.
***
“I’m not a wooden puppet.” He’d remind her with a laugh, finally releasing her hand. Then he looked back up at their exit point.
And then she asked a question and he gave her a curious look. “What?” He didn’t quite understand what she meant. Then: “You mean my smiling?” But no matter how wide his smile was, his heart rate would remain the same.
***
She rolled her eyes. "The gesture you lug. Why. Because to understand emotions is knowing why you're doing something. If its because you saw it once, it carries a different meaning than another reason. Now lift me up geez."
She'd only asked him to keep his brain ticking.
***
Oh.
“Because it’s appropriate.” He’d seen it in a movie, but it wasn’t just a mimic. He’d learned queues, he knew why things were done, it was a working knowledge, not just a repeat of things he’d seen. He wouldn’t come off so realistic if he just repeated things in the same context. “I was showing gratitude and romantic interest at the same time.” Well learned.
Crouching, he’d lace his fingers together and wait for her to step in, then he’d lift her again.
***
"I see." said the girl who sounded dubious of the last part. Not a change in heart rate. Not even a blip. "The gratitude I can see, although we'll show you that emotion another day."
She hopped up lightly and pulled one glove off, popped a claw which took longer than it had been and was new levels of painful. Ignore that whimper of pain, Remy. She'd use it to try and break the hinge. It was only bone but she'd try until it threatened to break.
***
“Careful.” He’d insist as he heard that whimper, a frown coming to his face. No change in vitals, though. “You’re going to hurt yourself, that’s enough.” Insisted as he saw the bone bending. He’d shift and turn to start lowering her back to the ground.
Then it dawned on him.
But instead of saying anything, he’d just hold onto that solution. He wasn’t done spending time in here with her. Not yet.
***
She let that one slide. It was the thought that counted..it hurt like hell. She retracted it as she was lowered, rubbing her hand, waiting for the wound ti heal before putting her glove on.
"Worth a try." She'd say with a scowl.
***
“I really am going to have to eat you, aren’t I? The strongest has to survive.” He’d flash that charming grin and straighten up again. “I promise I’ll enjoy you, if nothing else.” So there. “It’s getting early.” Two hours before people would be showing up for work.
“Let me try something.” He’d finally turn and go to the little control panel where you chose your floor. A little screwdriver from his pack had the panel coming off and he’d pick through the wires for a moment, untwisting some.. then he’d rub two together and the elevator would begin to move. It made him break into a pleased smile.
Just like hot wiring a car! Who knew?!
***
"Nope. I'd give you indigestion. That is a fact!" She'd groan as she realized how late/ early it was. They'd been trapped in here for far too long.
"Who knew?" She'd look him, watch him carefully. Listen in. Poor boy was never going to see her coming. She was going to have to be a stalker to see how he acted all the time.
The thought wasn't pleasing. Funny but not fun. Lord have mercy, what did she volunteer for?
***
She could listen all she wanted. There was nothing. Just nothing. But give it a few days, a week, there’d be a change. It was going to be the most boring stakeout ever.
With the elevator on its way back down, he would move to put the light fixture back into place and stare at the slightly charred spot on the wall. Huh. Well, they could scrub that ash off, surely? He hated leaving any evidence he’d been there.
The door dinged open and he’d point towards the doors. “Hold them.” He didn’t want to get stuck in here again. Then he was putting those wires back the way they’d been, closing up the panel, and looking around one last time. He did clean up after himself, didn’t he?
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” She’d get a wide smile as he slid out of the elevator.
***
Rogue grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Sounds like a plan to me.” she’d slip out of the elevator. “I think.. I’ll stick to stairs from now on.” she was tired, and she was ready to just curl up in a ball and sleep the week away.
It wasn’t going to be much of a stakeout anyways, her hearing was going to go back to normal on her before she had time to really get any information. She wanted baselines to work with. Now she was just happy to get out of the elevator.
“Thank you.” she’d say quietly, slender hand tucking her hair back under the wrap. She just wanted to get out of the area before the early birds started coming in.
***
“Hey.” He’d say as they began to part ways. “I put my number in your cell.” While they were in the elevator? Really? When had he had time to do that!? How had he gotten it off of her? Was he really that good?
No.
“Just kidding.” He’d say as she surely got one of those looks on her face. “I did put it in your pocket, though. Use it.” He’d give her a wink, then slip around the corner and he was gone. He had his own way out and she had hers. He just had to be more careful getting out-- one glove and all.
And sure enough, when she checked her pockets, she’d find one of his business cards with his number scrawled in (surprisingly neat) handwriting.
***
Rogue stared at him like… what? but smiled and shook her head, ducking out the other way, she’d go out the window like before, slipping into the shadows of the morning. She hated close calls. They were always nerve wracking.
She’d disappear and duck around to her other bike, a few blocks away, after she’d shed the head cloth and gloves, retrieve her helmet from it’s hiding place and smile. Things were just crazy and that was life,
What had she gotten herself into.
***
What had she gotten herself into? Really, Rogue? Really!
Your mother would slap you.
Did you even know what you were doing? Giving that man some sort of hope that you’d consider him was dangerous, had you thought of that? What happened when he got memories of you and discovered that you were supposed to be together? What would you do? Tell him you didn’t want him?
You were playing with fire.
Well, kinetic energy-- but still. Dangerous. A dangerous man with no little voice in his head telling him right from wrong. Social cues told him right from wrong and there was very little keeping him from doing whatever the hell he pleased.
Guys like him turned into Ted Bundy.
What were you doing!?