Jack of Hearts
by
Dee



DISCLAIMER: No ownership. No money. No nothing.

DEDICATION: For the Angst Grrls, who led me down this path, but especially for Nacey, who loves them more than I ever could.

NOTES: Ditto Gambit note from part one. Ditto poker note: http://www.kimberg.com/poker/dictionary.html

Oh yeah, and this is a bit Rogue/Gambit. There's Rogue/Logan references in there, and it is part of the storyline, but if you have serious issues, I suppose you should look away now and come back when it goes back to nice and seriously R/L in part three.




Dear Diary,

Three weeks now, and counting. I know he's coming back. In his own damn time. As always. But I still count, just because.

That new guy, Remy, has fit in really well. Probably because he's really quite easy to talk to. Very chatty, and funny, and completely charming. Somehow, after this short time, he seems an integral part of the group, and it's perfectly natural for him to hug me. He hugs all the girls. He's that sort of guy.


Voices across the room, now one raised. "Rogue, come on already. Or there won't be time and I'm not letting you out of this on a technicality."

"Yeah, OK, Kitty, just give me a minute."

We're going out tonight, and I foolishly let them talk me into it. Actually, I'm almost looking forward to it. It seems like ages since I had a good night out. With friends. But, I don't know; maybe this is a mistake...


Ten minutes later, Rogue looked in the mirror, and took a deep breath. "This is a mistake," she stated.

"Oh, no you don't," Jubilee interrupted, stepping up beside her. Blue eyes met green in the mirror and Jubilee slid an arm around Rogue to hug her close. "Come on, Roguey. You look gorgeous. You can't tell me you don't feel fantastic."

Rogue opened her mouth helplessly. Well... yeah. She did feel kinda good. The silver dress covered everything, but it was only opaque over the really important bits. The sleeves, most of the long skirt and a swathe around her middle were sheer. But the most beautiful touch was the decoration in her hair, a spray of silver. Or maybe, more rightly, the veil that was attached to it. The thinnest weave her skin would allow (and the testing had been rigorous), it made her look unbelievably exotic and ladylike. And safe. It tickled her chin as it moved with her breath.

"Thank you," she said, finally, simply. Turning around, she smiled to Kitty as well. "Thank you both."

"Hey, babe, anything for you," Jubilee said, grinning. "Now come on. The boys will be waiting, and you know how they get."

How they got was speechless as the three girls came down the stairs. Rogue in her silver and Jubilee in riot-inducingly short yellow and Kitty in clinging blue. Rogue blushed at the appreciative looks, but Jubilee just stalked through, an extra sway in her hips. She elbowed St John on the way, though. "You're dribbling, boy," she noted, and laughed.

Heading out the front door, Rogue found it being held for her by Remy. He was smiling, at her, that smile he had that was impossible not to return. "You are beautiful, chere," he said quietly, and amazingly she found herself not blushing, but looking up at him and smiling more.

They took Kitty's car, the girls in the front and the guys in the back. Barely had they pulled out of the drive than there was a sudden flurry of hissed conversation from the back seat, and then something was passed forward, between Rogue and Jubilee. Rogue raised a hand to take it; a bottle, almost entirely full by the weight. And definitely something alcoholic by the smell, as she unscrewed the lid.

"Bobby Drake, what the hell are you trying to pass off on us now?" Jubilee demanded, taking the bottle from Rogue and lifting it to her lips for a hefty swig. Laughter from the back seat as she coughed. "Jesus, Bobby. What did you do; wave the bottle of Coke in the general direction of the Bacardi?" And she passed the bottle back to Rogue.

Who hesitated. Alcohol? Well, with the veil, and the dress, and the gloves and boots, she was practically untouchable. And it was possible to drink without getting completely drunk. Just a little. Just enough to get tipsy. She took a careful mouthful, and the bottle went back to the back seat.

Another couple of mouthfuls down, she arrived at the club feeling pleasantly languorous. Laid-back enough to mimic Jubilee's walk - just a little - as they went in. She began to understand why Jubes did it. It was a power walk, an arrogant, confident strut. Lead with the hips and let your body flow. It was a challenge, like upping the ante, making a big raise. Daring someone to match your bid if they wanted to see your cards.

Sometimes there's more to poker than the cards. Rogue was starting to see what he meant.

The place was packed, but not too much. There was still space on the dance floor - probably because it was getting late - and that's where Jubilee was heading like a homing pigeon, dragging Kitty with one hand and Rogue with the other. Rogue wanted to resist, because coming out was one thing, but dancing...? The music was loud, rhythmic, grinding and she'd never had a beat get inside her like this, so she didn't protest, just let herself be dragged into an open space on the edge of the floor. Once she was there, it seemed right to dance, and there was that beat in her stomach that told her just how to move.

Easy when you knew how. Just like walking. Just like breathing. An undulation of muscles. Natural.

The boys joined them, and they made a group. Bobby was a surprisingly good dancer, stepping up behind Kitty and grabbing her by the waist to spin her out. Obviously something they'd done before, as Kitty shimmied around him expertly. She pressed herself up against him, closer than Rogue thought was legal in a public place like a dancefloor. Verging on the scandalous as she curled one knee around his leg and leant away from him, arching her back...

"Get a room, you two," Jubilee jibed. There was general laughter as Kitty quickly stood up, stepping away from Bobby to turn and poke her tongue out at Jubilee. But Bobby was laughing too, and Kitty was smiling, and Rogue grinned along.

Dropping Kitty's hand, Bobby slid across the circle to slip in behind Rogue, so close she took half a step away on principle - people shouldn't be that close. But he stopped her, hands around her waist and pulling her back. "Come on, Rogue," he said quietly, grinning. "It's your turn."

"But I don't... I can't do that," Rogue protested, waving a hand across at Kitty, who was smiling encouragingly.

"Sure you can," Bobby assured her, pulling her even closer, until she was touching him, her back pressed against him. "It's easy. Just move with the beat."

There was a jarring minute, as Rogue completely failed to move in time with him, and their bodies were hopelessly out of sync. But then she found the rhythm again, and moved with it, and with him, their bodies a single flowing entity. He spun her out, and she was laughing, sparkling, more beautiful than ever.

You couldn't get her off the dancefloor. Time ticked on, and Remy and St John withdrew to the bar to tell tall stories to each other. Later, Kitty pleaded fatigue and thirst, and Bobby left with her. They joined the other two at the bar. Rogue was pleading with Jubilee to stay just a little longer when Remy stepped up beside them.

"St John wants you to tell the story about the canoe," the Cajun said with that half-smile. "He's quite insistent, chere."

With a laugh, Jubilee skipped off the floor, and Rogue smiled at Remy. She felt better than she could remember feeling in a long time. This was fun. Fun. How long since she'd had any of that? She'd thought maybe it had vanished along with her ability for skin-to-skin contact. How could she possibly have thought this was a mistake? "So, now that you've got rid of her," she quipped, sidling up to him, swaying to the music, "are you going to have your wicked way with me?"

Remy's answering smile somehow made her knees go weak, so it was just as well he slipped both arms around her waist and pulled her closer. So close. "Maybe, chere. Maybe." So close and his voice was so low and intimate. Dancing had been natural all night, and now it was natural to sway with him, to step even closer. Not like with Bobby. Definitely... different. They fit together perfectly, one of her legs between his, and he was so warm as she pressed against him. Her eyes flickered closed, and her head tilted back a little. She felt his hand against her face, through the veil, fingers trailing down her cheek. "Chere?" Still low, but hesitant, inquiring... hopeful.

She opened her eyes, looked up into his through that veil that was thin enough to touch through. To kiss through. "Do it," she ordered gently.

So he did. He cradled her against him as his lips grazed across hers, so lightly. Then a harder touch, but still a tease. Third time lucky, as he lingered, heated the veil with his breath and hers. She tilted her head slightly and their lips fit together as naturally as their bodies. And they opened naturally as well, his tongue tracing the line of her lip and the veil now dry, now damp with saliva. She touched her tongue tentatively to his, bit down softly on his bottom lip.

It was enough and not nearly enough when he pulled back.

"It's probably time we went home," she said, and he got the message.

Because he got the message, afterwards - after a ride home in a carful of happy mutant teens singing 'Istanbul, Not Constantinople' loudly and a hushed, giggling entry into the Mansion - afterwards, there was a knock on her door so quiet it might not have happened, but it did, so she opened the door.

She'd spent five minutes, alone in her room, reconsidering this. She knew her love, he would come for her. Probably. But maybe... And she wanted to know how it felt. How it was supposed to be. Not feverish, innocent imaginings and no real memories to grasp onto anymore, just faded feelings. She'd been playing for the past year with paltry pairs, maybe the occasional three of a kind. She wanted to know what it felt like to play a full house. A royal flush.

So she drew Remy into the room and he kissed her again, no teasing this time. Kissed her properly, the veil wet against her face when his mouth moved and she hadn't noticed she'd been that close to the bed until she fell back onto it, his weight pressing down on her.

"No," she said against his lips, and pushed at him.

Almost as if he was expecting it, he leaned back immediately. He slid off her and sat on the bed beside her as she took deep breaths, trying to remember anything but how much she wanted this. With a different man. Oh God, how could she say it? "Remy, I'm sorry... I just-"

"Chere." At the sound of his voice, she looked at him, his eyes understanding, his lips quirked in that half-smile. "It is all right. You are thinking of someone else. You want Remy to be someone else. But Remy is sorry, he cannot growl, and Canada is simply too cold for him."

She couldn't help but laugh. Now, more than ever, she had to explain. "I just wanted to know. What it's like, and everything. What... well, the memories fade, you know, until there's just this hint of a personality that comes out sometimes. But when I did have the memories - his memories - it was... well, it was always sex. It was never making love."

He leaned back beside her, propped up on one elbow to face her. "You don't want sex. You want him to make love to you."

Rogue nodded, then bit her lip. "But Remy, what if he never does? What if I wait all my life and he never comes to me?"

"Then he's a fool," Remy replied easily, smiling. "Or maybe he is waiting for you. Wanting you to come to him."

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't do that. I... I wouldn't know what to do, or... Besides, he wouldn't want me. I'm too... innocent and timid and I'm not like all those women." Too much, said too much; she turned her face away from him.

"Oh, chere." Expelled on a sigh. "Remy wants to help you. He wants to... show you. That you are a woman, that you are naturally gifted with everything you need to make a man fall under your spell. To show you what you wonder about." She turned back to him, eyes wide, to find him looking down at her, his face serious. "But Remy is worried that he might be accused of opportunism."

She had to laugh again, then. "After I've practically begged you straight out?" Her smile lingering, she raised one gloved hand to trace the high line of his cheekbone, down to his nose, then over his lips, along his chin, finally to slide around his neck, drawing him down towards her. But then the pause of a last-minute hesitation, her smile vanishing. "It isn't just opportunism, is it?"

Remy laughed then, just quietly, and warmly, his breath against the veil. "You're a beautiful woman," he said. "And Remy does not deny that he has his selfish reasons for wanting this. But he's also your friend."

Rogue raised her other hand to cup his face, looking into his eyes. "Show me," she ordered, gently.

So he did.



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