Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

Work the next morning was even more miserable than usual. The rooms were the same, just as sordid and depraved as normal, but the memories of Gambit and his offer of release from this life added an extra layer of gloom.

Rogue pushed ahead anyway, working twice as hard as usual and talking an almost perverse pleasure in it. She finished early, by noon and headed back to her room, wanting nothing more than a long hot shower. A bath would have been better, but knowing the kinds of things that went on in the bathtubs, Rogue was staying well away from them.

She didn't immediately notice anything was wrong when she entered her room, because she didn't keep a lot of things lying around. Actually she didn't keep a lot of things, period, but when the first drawer she went to was empty, her mouth dropped open. She didn't notice that the room door had also opened, or the figure leaning casually against its frame. She searched the dresser then the wardrobe, then the bedside table, chanting "Oh my god, oh my god," under her breath.

Remy watched from the doorway. "Cher?"

Finally she noticed him. "It's gone, Gambit, all my stuff, everything, it's all gone!"

He had thought about prolonging things, but decided against it when he saw how genuinely upset she was. Better to get straight to the fighting.

"I know, cher, I took it."

"You- wait, what?"

"I took your things, petite. These room locks are incredibly easy to pick." Remy smiled as her hands found their way to her hips.

"You stole my things?" she sounded very controlled.

"No, I moved your things, there's a difference."

"You took them without permission, that's stealing. I should call the cops on you."

Remy shrugged. "You could try, but I'm betting they'll see things my way."

"No they won't. They'll see a poor young woman who's had all her earthly possessions stolen by a card sharp."

"No, they'll see a woman who works in the red light district, refusing help from a concerned citizen."

Rogue considered that for a moment; maybe he did have a point, which meant that she had little choice but to exact her own revenge.

"You no good, silver tongued, swamp rat!" Rogue flew at him. As her fist connected with his jaw, she was glad to see that she hadn't taken her gloves off yet.

Remy admired her fighting style, she was pretty tight, meaning that someone had obviously trained her, but she was also out of practice. He could win this fight if he chose to, but he needed her to work her anger out first. Unfortunately, that meant he had to take a few good licks in the process. Even though he knew he was going to pay for this fight tomorrow, right now he couldn't find the will to care.

The fight progressed from the motel room to the walk way, then out into the car park. Only a few people were around to see, since this district didn't really come alive until nightfall.

He could see the passion in Rogue's face, bringing her back to life before his eyes and he wanted to see more of that. Each bruise and every scrape was worth it.

Finally Rogue went down and stayed there, panting.

"Had enough?" Remy asked.

Rogue just glared at him, so he sat on the ground beside her.

"I know why you're doing this," he said kindly, "staying here. You feel like you don't deserve any better, it's a self-inflicted punishment."

"Stop psychoanalyzing me!" she hissed.

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