This started out as a one-shot, but after much thought, I decided to continue it. This is a definite AU. Warning: Character Death, obviously, and I'm not sure if I'm done with all the death yet, either.
It was two hours later, and the mourning hordes had all but diminished. Now, there was but one hollow individual, who was huddled, child-like, at the end of a fresh mound of dirt. For a moment, it was hard to tell whether the figure had also joined the realm of the dead. But no. His eyes, a startling red, were open, and glistening with unshed tears.
This man's name is Remy Lebeau, and he is numb.
He stares at the newly hewn gravestone, not really seeing it at all. He has already memorized the epitaph.
You touched all our lives,
though you were denied the pleasure.
There were numerous flowers scattered across the mound, along with a handful of pictures, and a worn pair of white gloves.
Jubilee and Kitty had brought those, saying tearfully how they had been Rogue's favorite. Gambit had yet to lie anything down, but between his nimble fingers lay a battered Queen of Hearts. He ran his fingers slowly over the face, an old habit.
"Um, uh…Remy? It's 7:00. We -uh- saved you some dinner…"
Remy turned. Theresa Rourke, one of the younger students, was standing behind him, holding a tray weighed down with food. She looked uncomfortable. He tried to smile weakly at the girl, but ended up failing miserably.
"Jus'- set it dere, petite," He looked back at the card, not even paying attention any more. He didn't even notice when Theresa left, and a taller, more graceful figure approached.
"You should at least wear your jacket," said a soft voice, depositing a worn trench coat in front of him. He didn't even look up.
"Merci,Stormy, but Remy ain't cold."
He felt, rather than saw, Storm sit beside him.
"You know, it's-"
"If you gonna say it ain't Remy's fault, t'ats de most cliqued line…"
Storm smiled, a sad half-grin that did nothing to dim the sorrow in her eyes.
"I wasn't. Just- remember. You're not the only one who cared for her. Kitty, Jubilee, Bobby, Logan… They all lost a friend in Rogue. You're not alone."
Remy snorted derisively. "Tis a day for cliques."
Storm frowned. "Just don't make the same mistakes that Scott did."
The man turned wildly, glaring at Storm with a crazy hate in his eyes.
"Don't- dare mention dat, dat freak's nom 'round me ever 'gain!"
Storm was taken aback. In the thick, near-darkness, Remy's eyes looked as if they were burning with anger. Storm had, of course, been feeling pain and sorrow for her young friend, but now she felt another emotion, a sharp, terrifying one, more for herself than Gambit:
It was unfounded, however. Remy had already turned back towards the grave, his eyes, again unseeing. Storm, sensing that the Cajun had just wanted to be alone, quietly left. She knew she had to be strong, for the students and herself. But, before she went inside, she opened her arms and lifted them to the sky. And the rain, her signature, her gift, welcomed her. The rain did what she would not. It mourned. For she would not cry.
In advance, I apologize for Remy's accent; this is the first time I've ever attempted to write an accent. Any feedback is welcome, as this is my first attempt at an angst fic as well. Cheers!