When Worlds Collide

When Worlds Collide Chapter Eight (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

A/N *glomps Goddess Foxfeather * You work too hard… ;)style="mso-spacerun: yes"> ProPhile:
See? I told you I’d do it!style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Readers/Reviewers: *twirly dance * Thanks!!!

“What’re
you doing?” Rogue had been dozing
lightly as Remy sped them along the bridge over Lake Ponchartrainstyle='mso-footnote-id:ftn1' href="#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title="">class=MsoFootnoteReference>[1]
and now lurched fully awake as the car swung onto a poorly paved road, jolting
and jerking from side to side as he wove around potholes and other random
debris.

“Savin’ my
suspension,” he murmured, peering into the darkness beyond the headlights.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Ah…est voila!”

“Quit being
all French. Where are we?” She rubbed
sleep from her eyes as the vehicle rolled to a stop and hut out off the
headlights, plunging them into darkness.
“This isn’t a swamp, is it?”

“Chere,” he
laughed as he unld thd the car door and unbuckled, “we in Southern Louisiana,”
he drawled the word purposefully, thickening his accent to goad her, “everythin’s
a swamp down roun’ here.”

She
clenched her jaw to keep back a catty remark and slid out of the car on the
passenger side. “Damned insane Cajun…draggin’
me to cemeteries, talkin’ to corpses…”

“Chere, don’
me callin’ les barones corpses, d’accord?”
His voice drifted out of the rural darkness, a faint shift in the shadows
the only sign of his presence.

“Look,
Remy,” Rogue leaned against the still-warm car, her arms folded over her chest
and her face set in lines of fratiration.
“I’ve let you drag me all over Hell’s half acre tonight and I’m fucking
sick of it. I want to find Jean and
Kitty and Bobby, I want to go back to Xavier’s and I want to go to bed.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> This Death guy can wait one more night.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She barely stopped speaking before Remy
grabbed her, coming out of the darkness like a ghost.

“Lissen
here, Rogue. You ain’t got no clue, do
ya?” He shook her gently and sighed.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You ain’t got no idea…style="mso-spacerun: yes"> What we dealin’ wit ain’t no mutant,
cherie. It’s Death.”

“I thought,”
she snarled, “we’d covered that. Let go
of me or so help me I’ll drain you dead.”
She stepped down on his foot heavily, forcing him to move away.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Where the fuck are we?”

Remy
frowned, annoyed with her attitude and the slace ace the investigation was
taken, on top of the randomness of the unanswered cel phone.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “We visitin’ a friend who might could help
us.” Without another word, he turned
and disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Rogue to follow as best she
could.

< Tante
Mattie opened the door, peering blindly up at her former charge.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Remy LeBeau. You ain’t never come to see me
no more less you be needin’ somethin’.” She shuffled back to allow the
much taller Cajun nternter.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Your ami comin’ in, too?”

Remy
grinned. “She be up in a second,” he said with a trace of a laugh.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “She coolin’ off her attitude.”

Tante
Mattie clucked her tongue softly and shut the door almost all the way, leaving
it open just enough to indicate invitation, as she followed Remy into the
kitchen. “You know where de chicory be,
son. Make me a cup. Dese ol’ bones…dey
be needin’ some rest.” She dropped into
one of the cane chairs around a rough wooden table and sighed.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You come here ta see what ye can see ‘bout
La Mort.”

Remy did
not even pause as he made a cup of hot chicory for Tante Mattie and
himself. He was long used to her Second
Sight and knew better than to think he could keep secrets from her.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Oui, c’est ca. Mais…” he did pause then as Rogue slammed the door behind her,
muttering under her breathan san style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Consciously,
he switched to English and finished, “But dis Death, he ain’t like les barones,
eh?”

Rogue sat
at the table wordlessly, not quite meeting Tante Mattie’s eyes as the old woman
hummed low in her throat. “Chere,” she
said softly, startling the teenager, “you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.
Many come back from the grasp o’ la Mort an’ ain’t got any bad to show fo’ it.”

“Pardon?”

Remy set a
third cup of chicory before Rogue and sat down, handing Tante Mattie hers.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Tante Mattie got de sight, chere.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Let ‘er talk…”

Rogue
rolled her eyes but was southern enough to respect the supernatural.st"mso"mso-spacerun: yes"> She took a sip of the bitter drink and
swallowed hard, almost missing Tante Mattie’s words. The old woman spoke loudly, meaning to be heard.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Votre amis…dey in some trouble.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Loads o’ it. Mais… dis trouble. It ain’t
like you an you.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> You two, you creatures apart from dese reg’lar
humans, eh? Special.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Dis fella, he an’ his friends…dey be keepin’
votre amis hidden ‘way…” She began
swaying slowly, her eyes distant. “Below
de soil…hidden…livin’ but not… Not de one legged gal, not de demon…”style="mso-spacerun: yes">

“One
legged?” Rogue gasped sharply. “Kitty!
She’s only got the one good leg right now. What is it?” She shoved her cup
aside and leaned across the table as if she were going to grab the old woman’s
fan hen her hands. “Is she okay?”

“Child,”
Tante Mattie sighed, patting her hand, “de sight don’t work like dat.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I just tell you what I see an’ dats dat.”

“You ain’t
seen where, underground?” Remy asked softly, staring into the depths of his
cup. “No sign?”

“Desloee,
mon cher. Non.”

Remy sighed
and leaned back. “Still got dat extra
room?”

Tante
Mattie burst into a cackle. “Jus’ one,
oui. An’ one bed!”

Rogue’s
face flamed at Remy’s slow grin. “You
get the floor!”

A/N Smut next chapter!

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