|Work of Art
Author: DamageCtrl PM
AU: COMPLETE! New architect, Rogue, just arrived in San Francisco to begin her career at her mother's firm when a chance meeting at a museum puts her in the gaze of a New Orleans born artist.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 30 - Words: 176,038 - Reviews: 331 - Favs: 157 - Follows: 32 - Updated: 01-02-06 - Published: 11-13-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2659852
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Work of Art
Chapter One: The Museum
All Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own the X-Men or anything associated with it. This story is loosely based on a friend's novel. Thanks for letting me use the premise:) .
"Momma?" Her voice was sweet and calm as she held the little silver cellular phone against her head. "What time are yah gonna get here?" Her voice was also drenched in a warm, southern accent.
"Darling, I'll be there as soon as I can," another woman's voice replied calmly. "It's just that else blasted blue prints need a final once over. I'm sorry, my dear Rogue, but I'm going to be quite late."
"It's alright, momma," Rogue sighed, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Yah'll are a very busy woman. Best architect this side of the Mississippi. Ah know yah have a lot of work."
There was a pause on the line. "I knew I could count on you to understand, my dear," the woman chuckled, her voice was very refined and articulate, not holding any trace of the usual shrill, reprimanding tone Rogue was used to hearing her mother normally speak with. "But I will get there and we shall go to dinner. Even if I must bring these wretched things with me!"
"Momma, Ah don't want yah skipping out on work," Rogue scolded as a small smile caressed her soft, pouty lips. "We can always reschedule-"
"No!" Rogue jerked her head back from the phone as her mother's demanding voice cut through the crisp fall air. "It is not every day that my little girl gets hired on to this city's top architectural firm! I said we are going to celebrate, Rogue, and celebrate we are!"
Rogue chuckled. She had her interview the week before in one of the old, but beautiful buildings downtown. She had been so nervous. She had just moved back to the Bay Area after graduating top of her class in one of the top colleges in the South. After she settled into her new apartment, just a few blocks from her mother's flat, she immediately began looking for jobs.
Even though it had been her mother, the infamous Raven Darkholme, who got her the interview, it had been Rogue's portfolio and recommendations that got her the job. Now, she would be working in the Urban Development centered branch of the firm her mother worked in.
"Momma," Rogue blushed. "It's just a starting position-"
"In the top architectural firm in the city!" Raven added proudly. "Now, I have to get back to work. Can you stand a few hours alone at the museum?"
Rogue rolled her eyes. As a child, she practically wanted to live in the art wings of the local museums. "Yah, momma, Ah think Ah can manage," she murmured sarcastically. "Now, did yah call Kurt?"
"I called him and he will meet us at the restaurant at seven thirty sharp," Raven told her. "Now, I must go. I'll see you soon."
"Right. Ah'll see yah then, momma," Rogue closed her phone and tugged her warm wool coat around her tighter. She looked up at the big sprawling museum and almost grinned like a cat who just ate the canary. A large banner was spread across the top of the entry way, just above the steps were she now stood. The Louvre was sending some of it's works aboard to other museums and a sizable portion of works were sent to San Francisco. Rogue clutched her purse closer to her as she trudged up the steps. "Almost feel bad for the folks travelin' down ta Paris...came all that way and the classics are right here in front o' meh."
The doors were open and she slipped through, silently thanking God for the warmth within in the old building. Her heeled boots echoed along the stone floor as she walked to the counter and smiled as she pulled out her Museum Pass. "Welcome back, Miss Darkholme."
"It's lakhe Ah nevah left anyway, sugah." Rogue giggled. She was handed a pamphlet on the exhibition and a VIP badge baring her name. She clipped it on the side of her purse.
"Coat room is to your left, Miss Darkholme. Enjoy your visit." The friendly girl at the counter said. Rogue gave her a warm smile and headed across the foyer to the coat room. There was no way she was planning on carrying her thick jacket through out the entire museum.
She easily found the coat room and check in her heavy pea coat, but kept her warm scarf. Tucking the ticket she received back into her purse, she proceeded to head towards the exhibition she was looking forward to since she received that e-mail from the Museum's mailing list.
Her knee high brown leather booths were beneath a warm, black skirt that ended below her knees, keeping her nice and warm in the chill afternoon. Her sweater was a soft, hunter green turtle neck; a present from her brother, Kurt. Worn and comfortable brown gloves stayed on her slender pale hands as her black scarf hung loosely around her neck.
She had kept her brown hair medium length, but currently tied it up in a tight bun at the back of her neck. When she had lunch with a friend of hers from her undergraduate years at Berkeley, Jean said her hair made her look old. Rogue snorted unladylike. She liked the way Betsy put it better - sophisticated. Yes, she looked sophisticated. Not old. Her own mother still looked in her prime, there was no way in hell she was going to be the older looking one. Besides, the soft white bangs that framed her face gave her that youthful, rebel look. The bun just balanced it out...at least she hoped.
Suddenly she came to a wide open gallery that had three connecting rooms. And she had no idea where she could find the works of the Renaissance masters. Grumbling, she stood where she was and dug through her purse for the pamphlet which had the map.
She unfolded it impatiently and scanned the floor plan.
"Excuse me, Miss?" a shrill female voice cut through her thoughts and she jerked her head up. Rogue snapped her head up and looked around. "Do you mind moving?"
"Wha?" Rogue looked around dumbly and turned. She turned bright red as she realized she was standing in front of a large painting. "Oh. Sorry, sugh, Ah-"
"Never mind, just get out of the way!" the young woman hissed. Rogue jerked her head back in surprise. "It's like you've never been to a museum before."
Rogue was about to give her a tongue lashing when the young woman's apparently husband stepped in. He offered Rogue a sheepish smile. "Sorry, she's pregnant and her hormones are just-"
"What are you telling her?" the girl growled. "It isn't any of her business!" Her husband seemed to almost cower and Rogue lifted an eyebrow as she walked way from them.
"God help him...she ain't even showin' yet..." Rogue murmured pitifully. She walked through several more halls before finally arriving in front of the an all too familiar sight of richly colored oil figures on canvas. "Ah'm home..." she sighed blissfully.
Immediately, she walked over to one corner of the room, determined to get the most out of this particular visit. The first painting was a lesser known piece by Titan. Once again, she dug through her bag and pulled out a small guide book. She had picked it up just before her first trip to Paris with her mother. It was a guide to the works at the Louvre, her favorite museum.
She thumbed through the guide, looking for the title of the work, when she heard a voice.
"No, Rahne, this isn't the original," It was a very sultry, sophisticated voice. Obviously someone of 'good' breeding. Rogue looked over her shoulder and saw a blonde woman in an all white business suit and stilettos. She was standing beside a reproduced portrait, in front of a dozen or so gray uniformed teenagers. "The real one is actually in Paris."
"Miss Frost," one of the girls asked. She raised her hand and Rogue narrowed her eyes. That was definitely a prep school logo on the breast pockets of their gray blazers. "Are we going to get to see it this summer?"
Rogue wrinkled her nose. So Xavier's private Academy was going to Europe for the summer, go figure. She had begged her mother to put her public school and despite Raven's wishes, allowed her to go. Rogue felt it opened her up to more people and she never did like those itchy uniforms.
"Yes, we are," Miss Frost says. "Now, does everyone have that handout I passed out when we arrived?" After a few nods and murmured assurances, she continued. "Excellent. Now there are five questions on sheet. You are each to ask all those questions. Either to the same person or different people. Get their approval before asking the question. When we arrive back at the Academy, we shall go over everyone's answers. Now, we leave at six, so I suggest everyone begin."
Rogue looked down at her watch. The kids had two and a half hours. She shrugged and proceeded along the gallery walls.
She kept her book out as she passed each painting. Occasionally, she would linger on one. She would wonder what the artist was thinking and what made him paint. She wondered if they had models and what the models thought and felt. She always loved loosing herself in art. Perhaps that was why she loved museums.
She could get lost in history and beauty. Her mind would wander, caught up in the swirls of color and the mysterious grins of a painting. She would sit in front of a statue, her eyes gazed over as she tried to picture how they would look like alive and how they would feel during that captured moment in time.
Her mother might not have always been there for her as a child, but Raven did do one thing - she exposed Rogue to things the adopted southern belle would never have been exposed to. "At least momma did one thing right..."
She walked over to the next room and looked up at the mounted work on in the center of the room.
"Favorite?" She heard a thoughtful chuckle accompany the heavily accented word. "Dats a hard question, petite...Remy don tink he has jus one..."
Curiously, Rogue took a step to the side and peered around the mounted work. Standing in front of an old sketch beneath a glass case, was a tall man with unruly red-brown hair. His built body was draped in a dark brown trench coat. Faded and worn jeans hugged his hips and legs as a black turtle neck sweater clung to his upper body, barely visible from how his arms were crossed over his broad chest. He lifted black leather gloved hands and rubbed his stubble filled chin thoughtfully as he gazed up at the sketch.
"You must have one, Mr. LeBeau." a girl's voice giggled.
It was then that Rogue saw three identically uniformed girls surrounding the man. Rogue lifted an eyebrow and couldn't help but grin. It looked like she wasn't the only one appreciating the man's physique. The students were looking up at him, batting their lashes as they blushed and giggled amongst themselves.
"Well...dere is one, tres belle..." he mumbled thoughtfully. "C'mere, I'll show it t' y'. It's by Raphael. Y' heard o' him, petite?"
Rogue's eyes widened and she darted back behind the mounted work as he turned towards her and started walking in her direction. She pretended to be intensely studying one of Da Vinci's sketches as he passed her, still talking and entrancing the three students that were following him like puppies.
She heard him in the next room and out of the corner of her eye, noted that they had disappeared into the other room. Suddenly, she let out a breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding in. Her eyes widened as she raised her hand and held it against her chest.
Good lawrd, mah heart's beating so hard, Ah'm gonna collapse at any minute...she thought to herself as she bit her lip. "Calm down, girl..." she mumbled to herself as she crossed the room. "There ain't no pretty face good enough ta make Anna Marie Darkholme feel like a gigglin' fool. 'Sides...there are much more beautiful things here ta make yah heart race."
Casually, she walked along side of the wall lined with sketches. She found herself standing in front of a faint, rough sketch. It looked frail behind the clear glass, as if it would shatter at the slightest touch. Rogue frowned. It was such a beautiful picture, too.
It was a woman's sleeping face. Her eyes were closed and she was laying her head down. Rogue found herself leaning forward. She could make out faint lines of a larger hand beneath the woman's placid face. The hand was cupped against one of hers. It was larger, more worn. A man's hand, Rogue realized
She drew back from the painting, a thoughtful smile on her face. She the woman was sleeping holding her man's hand...no wonder she looked so happy...
"Excuse me, Miss?" A quiet voice caught her attention and she looked down and smiled warmly. A boy stood there, his brown eyes down cast as his pale cheeks flushed, obviously embarrassed. "Um...I'm from the Xavier Academy and we...uh...have these questions. Um...would you be willing to...I mean," he swallowed nervously. "Would you mind if I asked you?"
He lifted his face and soft brown hair fell over his boyish face. Rogue immediately gave him a warm smile and nodded. "Of course not, sugah, have a seat," Rogue directed him to one of the many stone benches that were inside the museum for the patrons' use. "Ah'd be happy ta help. What's yer question?"
He threw her a grateful smile as he joined her on the bench and took out a note book. Rogue noticed all the scribbles and little doodles along the margins as he flipped through it to the page that had a blue piece of paper pinned in between.
"First...um...what was your name, Miss?" he asked sheepishly.
"Rogue Darkholme," she told him with a smile. "And what's yer name, sugh?"
"Jamie," he said. "Thank you for helping me out."
"Well, Ah haven't helped yah out, yet, sugah," Rogue chuckled. "What's yer first question?"
"Do you have a favorite piece?" he asked as he looked at the blue paper.
"Course Ah do!" Rogue laughed warmly. "It's called La Pieta. It's a marble piece by Michelangelo. The Virgin Mary is holding her dead son across her lap...sad, but at the same time, accepting of it all. Ever seen it, Jamie?"
"None of that 'mam' stuff, sugah," Rogue sighed. "Ah ain't even thirty yet! Call meh Rogue."
Jamie blushed. "Okay..."
"Ah heard yah class is goin' ta Europe?" Rogue asked. Jamie nodded. "Going ta Italy?" He thought for a moment and nodded again. "Good...if yah have the chance, yah gotta go ta the Vatican. Some o' the world's most beautiful work is there, Jamie. Including La Pieta."
Jamie nodded. "I think my class is going to take a tour of it," he told her. Rogue nodded and smiled as he wrote down her response. "The second question is...Do you have a favorite artist?"
"Michelangelo, all the way, sugah," Rogue assured him. "Next question is 'why', Ah bet," Jamie looked down and nodded as Rogue laughed. "Ah don't know, sugah...truth be told...Ah just like his work. Ah think it's beautiful...the way he makes everything move in space. And yah can feel so much when looking into the eyes og his paintings. Ah think they just take mah breath away is all."
The student took it all down as Rogue whist fully looked up at the sketch, remembering her own time padding through the halls of the Vatican with her brother and friends. They had decided to go back packing right after they graduated college.
"How does art influence your life?" Jamie asked, bringing Rogue out of her memory. She looked over at him and thought for a moment.
"Mah life?" Rogue looked down thought for a moment. "Ah think that it's a great way ta escape from reality...Yah can loose yerself in a moment...get lost in the images...get inspired..." She looked up and smiled. "Nah...erase that, Jamie. Just write down that Ah'm an architect and art inspires mah work."
Jamie nodded and furiously scribbled down what she said. "The last question is if you could be one an piece of art, what would you be?"
"Yah mean ta say Ah ain't already?" Rogue asked, feigning insult. Jamie blushed and immediately shook his head.
"No! You're very pretty-" He quickly snapped his mouth shut and Rogue chuckled as his face turned tomato red.
"Ah'm glad yah think so, sugah..." Rogue smiled. "But Ah think Ah'd rather be Eve...in the Creation of Adam, on top of the Sistine chapel. Yah know why?" She glanced down at him and Jamie shook his head. "Because she wasn't born yet. She's still perfect...in the mind of the Lawrd, watching the birth of the universe and man. And she knew she was going ta come out and join them soon, too...so she must've been excited. After all, she was going ta meet the man God made her for. Her soul mate, if yah will."
It made sense to Rogue. It was the moment of anticipation, of knowing. Right before the sin, before anything could possibly go wrong, the moment of knowing you were part of something greater than yourself. That was how she felt when she contributed to building plans and helped designed plans that would throw whoever walked into them off their feet. Only, she felt that Eve had it better. Eve was going to get Adam. Rogue was just going to get another notch under her architectural belt.
"Thank you, ma-..." he blushed as he closed his note book. "Rogue."
"Bettah, sugah, bettah," Rogue nodded. "Now Ah hope Ah was able to help yah."
"Oh, definitely, thanks for all your help." Jamie thanked her a few more times before rushing off to the rest of his classmates. Rogue smiled to herself, pleased that she was able to help someone.
Her attention went back to the sketch.
The woman's lips were smiling slightly. She was lost in blissful sleep, comforted by the hand she rested her cheek against. For a moment, Rogue envied the charcoal sketched sleeping beauty who seemed so at peace with her lift.
Of course she's at peace, she's with her man... A small voice inside of her reminded her. Rogue frowned. Yet another reminder of how alone she was. Not that she cared. Really.
Her emerald eyes darted over to the small plate by the side of the sketch. She frowned as she recognized the artist's name and then glanced back up at the image. She looked disbelieving as she took a step back and lifted her guide book once more. As her slender gloved fingers went through the index of the book, a masculine voice filled her ears.
"Da Pious Man's Daughter."
Rogue lifted her head and turned around. "What the?" She jumped back as she felt her soft cheeks rub against coarse material of a trench coat.
"Dis be Remy's lucky day. He get to see deux belle femmes at de same place, non?" A Cheshire grin flooded her line of vision as Rogue quickly shot a glare at the man.
"Excuse meh! Ah didn't think Ah asked yah anything!" She retorted proudly as she turned her back on him. She focused her eyes on the book once more, silently praying that she wasn't as red as she was feeling. That was twice today she'd made a fool out of herself at the museum.
Behind her, the man she had seen earlier with those students chuckled. A deep, warm laugh flooded her senses as she tried to ignored him.
"Didn't mean t' offend y', chere," he said, amused. "But, y'll neva find her in dere."
"Ugh...what are yah talking about?" Rogue asked angrily as she turned around. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn't. His eyes were red against deep, deep black and were looking right through her. For a moment, it made her loose her train of thought. Tight lips curled into a knowing smile as she struggled to break eye contact.
"Da painting of de belle femme," he said casually. "From a private collection...y' won't find her in any book, chere...y' from de south?"
Rogue shrugged, but nodded. "Mississippi born...you Cajun?" she asked. He nodded back and grinned proudly.
"You good, chere. I recognized y' accent...don hear dat in California," he chuckled. "Come here often, right?"
Rogue swallowed unconsciously as her eyes darted back to the sketch. His eyes hadn't left her face for a moment. It was unnerving. She took a cautious step back. "How...how'd yah know...?"
"Just do," he replied coolly, remaining stand in his spot. "Original sketch, y' know...from de hands of Raphael himself."
Rogue felt herself nodding as she found herself drawn back to his eyes. She licked her lips. Did it suddenly get hotter? "Ah...Ah've just never seen it before..." she mumbled stupidly. He grinned at her, a wide winning smile against a 5 o'clock shadow.
"Seen it plenty of times, chere, but it pales in comparison to y'."
Rogue's 'cheesy pick up line' radar choose that moment to kick into action and immediately, Rogue's deep emerald eyes narrowed bitterly. He was just like all those men her mother had warned her about. All those bar lounging, club hopping fools who think women would swoon at the drop of a pathetic one liner. Rogue growled. "Thanks, but no thanks, swamp rat!" she hissed as she snapped her book closed. "Ah can appreciate art without yer help!"
She turned her head away and began to march into a different room. "Quoi? You don find Remy at work o' art?" he smirked as Rogue gave him the finger. "Anytime, chere! Anytime!" he called out with laughter.
She was seething as she stomped through two halls, trying to put as much distance between her and that sleaze ball. Sleaze ball? She couldn't help but smile. "Sugah, yah been hanging around Jeannie too long..."
She took that moment to look around and survey her new surroundings. Impressionist examples. She sighed, realizing that she had just stormed out of her favorite time period without having a chance to really look at everything. It made her frown more so. No only had he tried to pick up on her in the saddest way imaginable, he made her sweep right through her favorite part of the museum exhibit!
"That arrogant little..." Grumbling, she pressed on, losing herself in Monet's garden scenes. It was a few hours later, after she had cooled down, she trudged back to the renaissance gallery.
Nervously, she peered around ever corner, hoping to evade her red eyed Casanova. However, she never seemed to sense those red eyes locked on to her the entire time.
She casually walked into the room she had previously abandoned and once again found herself standing in front of The Pious Man's Daughter. Rogue sighed thoughtfully as she sat on the bench in front of it and just stared at it.
Her roommates from college all had someone. Jean was married to Scott, even though Rogue thought he was an uptight perfectionist that dressed with no originality what so ever. Betsy was dating that extremely wealthy millionaire in New York City. It was long distance and they made it work. And sweet Kitty, who was younger than them and looked up to them like a little sister to her three big sisters, was seeing her former classmate, Piotr.
Her brother was in a doctorate program and wasn't even paying attention to women, so he didn't count. Still, even her mother activity dated. Not dated, she corrected herself, man-hopped. She groaned and buried her face in her hands. When did the world suddenly seem to go in pairs?
"Bad day, chere?" a deep voice said beside her. She was vaguely aware of someone sitting beside her as she nodded, face still buried in her hands. "Sorry t' hear dat."
Rogue took a deep breath and lifted her head. "It ain't yer faul..." her voice trailed off as she looked up and met those sultry red eyes once again. "You..." she spat out, momentarily loosing her accent in a fit of utter disgust.
"I came in peace!" he said immediately, raising his hands. He had removed his gloves and they were shoved into one of the many pockets of his trench coat. "Sorry about earlier, chere, honest! Didn't come by here t' get yelled at, just came t' apologize."
"Whatever," Rogue grumbled. "What are yah doing back here? Stalkin meh?"
"Non, non," he said. "Dis my favorite piece. I swear." He looked slightly defensive and Rogue watched him with narrowed eyes.
"Ah'll leave yah ta her, then." she snapped.
"Wait a second, now, chere," he said. "I apologized. Can't we be civil? Name's Remy." He gave an over the top, sweeping bow in front of her as he extended his hand. Rogue just stared at him as if he grew a second head.
"And mah name ain't any of yer business." Rogue stood up and began walking away. As soon as she did, she heard another set of footsteps behind her and she rolled her eyes and swore.
"Can't stand to have a femme mad at me," the Cajun said as he appeared in front of her, stopping Rogue in her tracks. "Just a name, chere?"
She narrowed her eyes. "It's Rogue." As he stood for a split second to mull over the name, she side stepped him and continued down the corridor.
"Wait a second, dat don't be y'r real name, is it?" Remy asked as he caught up with her. Rogue began to quicken up her speed.
"What makes yah think that?" she retorted proudly. She walked straight ahead, trying to avoid looking at him.
"You badge dere says y'r name is Anna Marie." Remy said, pleased with himself.
"Mah legal name's Anna Marie. But Ah like ta go by Rogue," She stopped and glared at him. "Got a problem with that, swamp rat?"
"Non, chere, Rogue fits y' better any how." Remy grinned.
"Yah got mah name now, ain'tcha gonna leave me alone?" Rogue grumbled as she walked past him.
He kept up with her fast pace walking well. "Now dat y' gave me y'r name, I know y' don't hate Remy no more. So what do y' say to a little get together after da museum closes, oui?"
"Yah better get away from meh before Ah knock yah across the God damned bay, Cajun," Rogue growled. "Ah ain't interested in a man like yah!" She made the mistake of looking up at him.
"Is dat so, chere?" A smug smile appeared before her as she felt herself spinning. Rogue's eyes widened as a sharp gasp escaped her throat. She found herself pinned against one of the walls of the museum by a lean, warm body. One arm rested beside her head as a well built, masculine frame stood directly in front of her. Glowing red eyes locked themselves her face as a confident smile graces his lips. She could smell him, not any cologne or a lingering scent of aftershave, but him. Pure, raw male...and it made her knees weak. Rogue heart was racing in her chest as her pink tongue darted out and licked her suddenly dry lips. She saw a pulse of red in his eyes as they followed the quick movement. He leaned closer to her, his face just inches from her. "Tell me, mon coeur...Just what kind of man do y' think I am?"
"Rogue? Rogue, are you in there?"
Momma! Rogue's eyes broke from his immediately as they darted over his shoulder. "Momma?" she called out. Her eyes widened as she realized her voice was trembling.
A tall, dark haired woman entered the gallery room they were in and suddenly, Remy was across the room, ignoring her as he looked up at a da Vinci diagram.
"There you are, my dear," Raven said as she gracefully swept into the room, giving Rogue a warm smile. "You weren't answering your phone, so I had to call out for you. Really, Rogue, you should just put it on vibrate or lower the volume. What if it was an emergency?"
"Momma..." Rogue mumbled. Her eyes darted from her mother to Remy and back. "Ah..." She took a deep breath. "Sorry, Ah forgot to put up the volume."
"It's alright, Rogue, I..." Raven narrowed her eyes as she swept back Rogue's brilliant white bangs. "Are you well, Rogue?" she asked in a concerned voice. "You're completely flushed!" Her hand rose and pressed itself against Rogue's forehead. "You feel fine..."
"Ah'm fine, momma, really," Rogue said. "Was just rushing here from the other room, that's all."
Raven watched as her daughter ran her hand through her bangs but caught the brief glance she shot in the direction of the man in the trench coat. The older woman's eyes narrowed into angry slits as she watched Rogue follow the man with her eyes as he left the room.
"If you say so, my dear..." Raven said curtly. "We should go. We have dinner reservations."
"Right..." Rogue nodded. "Right...Ah just have ta stop by the coat room and get mah coat." Still flushing, she pressed her bag against her and proceeded to had towards the lobby. Raven followed behind her.
"Are you sure you're all right, Rogue?" Raven asked once more.
"Stop asking meh that, momma! Ah told yah, Ah'm fine!" Rogue insisted. Raven merely sighed and nodded. She stood to the side as Rogue headed towards the coat room. The woman handed in the ticket and gave a quiet thanks as she took the jacket and proceeded to put it back on. She turned around and began to walk towards the doors, one arm still half way through her coat sleeve.
She was concentrating on wiggling her hands through when she slammed right into a firm, warm body. Instantly she paled as a feeling of deja vu swept through her body.
"Again, chere? We gotta stop meeting like dis." a warm, deep voice filled her ears as she swore and reluctantly lifted her head. Two red eyes looked back at her, highly amused, as a wide grin greeted her.
"Get away from meh, swamp rat!" Rogue growled as she pushed him away. Memories of her earlier confrontation pressed against the wall and his heated body flashed through her mind, sending another furious flush across her pale skin.
"Rogue, is everything alright here?" A woman's stern cultured voice cut through the tension between them as Raven approached.
Remy turned around and gave a welcoming smile to the woman Rogue called her mother. "Everyting's fine, madam. And you are?"
"Get the hell away from my daughter, you transient slob!" Raven snapped as she made her way over to Rogue. Remy raised an eyebrow as he was pushed aside. "Are you alright, Rogue?"
"Ah'm fine, momma, nothing Ah can't handle," Rogue insisted behind gritted teeth. She shot a glare at the haughty looking Cajun as she pushed past him. "Let's go. Kurt's waiting for us at the restaurant."
"Of course, dear," Raven nodded. She looked over her shoulder and glared at Remy once more as they walked out the double doors of the museum. "Are you sure he wasn't bothering you, Rogue?"
"Don't worry about him, momma," Rogue told the older woman sternly as they walked down the steps. She looked back over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes as a pair of ruby orbs stared back at her fondly. She snorted and turned her head away sharply. "Ah ain't ever gonna see that man ever again!"