1963-12-30 - Not So Guilty
Summary: Remy checks in on Jessica's apartment, and, as it turns out, Jessica.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
gambit jessica 


He has a key.

Remy doesn't have to break in here, which is good, because it'd probably start causing suspicion at some point. Given that he comes every day.

He turns the key slowly, pulling the bolt one side to the other, quietly like he does every day on the off chance that Jess has made her triumphant return and so that he can stop worrying about her.

When the door pushes open slightly he can tell someone's in there. Tell by the scent and the slightly elevated temperature. It's either her, which would be good or bad, or it's someone else which would definitely probably be bad.

He sits there for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to face her/him/whatever intruder may be on the other side.

*

The perfume of cheap whiskey permeates the air — thick like a kind of incense filtering through the stale too-closed-in space. Without the windows open, without the door opening and closing, and without the presence of people slipping in and out of the apartment, the stale had become normal.

The smell of booze, however, hasn't really entered this space for some time. Slumped along the wall adjacent the door, Jessica stares at her purple wall. The opened bottle of whiskey, three-quarters gone, sits next to her, and she stares at the shade of purple intently.

Next to the bottle, an article about Charlotte Ferguson, the once-missing, now-dead girl, lays next to Jess. But Jones seems to be asleep. Or passed out.

Her head hangs emptily towards her chest and the cigaretteclutched between her lips hangs haphazardly — almost all butt instead of cigarette remaining.

*

Aw hell.

For a moment Remy can't help but feel as though he is the cause of this, but then automatically realizes that Jess has and always will be her own woman. He's sure he factors into much of anything very little. Still, she probably doesn't want to burn the apartment down.

He takes a few steps towards her and reaches towards her lips to pull the cigarette out.

*

ROLL: Jessica +rolls 1d10 for a result of: 10

*

The movement, specifically the drawing out of the cigarette causes Jessica to jerk awake. Reflexes, rather than thought, have Jessica jolting upwards. Her hands ball into tight fists and, automatically, she's rearing for a fight. Yet, when those world-weary blood-shot eyes (ones to match Remy's) catch sight of him, her posture deflates. Her hands return to her sides, and sullenly she stares at him.

Her jaw tightens, her gaze turns severe, and she reaches for the bottle to pull it back to her lips. Angrily, she downs several swigs of liquor and then wipes her mouth on her sleeve. "Dammit Remy, what the fuck?" her head falls to the side and she watches him before she collapses back to the floor in the sad mess that she's allowed herself to become.

"Jesus. What day is it?" she presses a hand to her forehead.

*

"Sorry, luv," Remy says as he puts the butt out in one of the many overflowing ashtrays. "Din want ya te burn de place down." He leans back down, looking at her, hands rested on his knees as he peers. "Ya look like hell, kid. Ain't none o' ma bidness no mo' but whereva it been, you shouldn' be goin' back."

*

"Feel worse than I look," Jessica observes, despite not looking at herself or a mirror. She slumps against the wall again, but continues to press her palm to her head. Somehow it stops the spinning. Or alleviates it a bit.

She emits a irritable sigh. "Fuck," she mutters leaning into it again. "What are you doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be off terrorizing non-mutants for 'the cause'?" it's not as emotional as she may intend. "Was here and then." And then, perhaps relatedly: "Read about some mutant extremist group in the paper. Lots of bodies." Her shoulders tighten. "On both sides."

*

"Which one dat, be, Jess?" Remy says as he stands and moves towards the kitchen. There's a clink of his lighter as he lights up a smoke and begins to make some coffee. "Makin' sure your pipes dun freeze. Ya din turn de heat on before ya left, chere." Doesn't necessitate coming here everyday, but whatever.

*

"Mutant Liberation Front," Jessica replies in a scratchy voice. She scowls. "Pipes are fine." Her arms tighten around her body as she presses herself to a stand and traipses after Remy into the kitchen — bottle in hand. "Still at least ten people not accounted for. Nothing left except the scorched remains imprinted on walls." The grim tone is unmissable. Her eyes flit to the window. "Whatever."

*

"Gun drink some coffee. Den yer gun take a shower," Remy says with the cigarette between his teeth. When the smoke begins to sting his eyes, he reluctantly pulls it away and holds it onto the counter as he exhales a large blue cloud. Looking over his shoulder, at her, out of the corner of his eyes. "Thought you were givin' up de drink."

*

Jessica brings the whiskey bottle to her lips again at the mention of coffee. She swallows the liquor, almost enjoying the burn on the inside of her throat. "And I thought you were a black mark on a wall. We can't be right all the time."

Her chin quivers — a faint tell as she tries to maintain some semblance of stoicism. It's failing.

*

Remy takes a large drag from his cigarette. Once he's got the coffee ready he turns around and there's a hint of a grin for a split second. "Baby doll. It's me. Ain't no one ever get de best of Remy Le Beau. Except for mebbe yo'self." The grin fades as he gets more serious. "You an' I been through worse. We gun get reorganized an' pick up de pieces." He gives her a wink. "Puke an' rally, dey used to say back in de guild. Puke an' rally."

*

"And gangs in New Orleans," Jessica offers. "They ran you out of town. And…" her cheeks flush while her eyes drop to the floor, "…what you do… what you fucking do… they already want you all dead. You know that right? These groups. This Humanis First. The Right. Friends of Humanity. All of them want you gone." Her eyes remain trained on the floor.

*

"Dat true, hon. Dun be too worried. Erry body want Remy LeBeau dead. Been true a long time. From Paris to Rio, dey all want Remy LeBeau dead. Mutant. T'ief. Jilted ex-lover. Dey all want Remy LeBeau dead," he says with a bit of a laugh. "Ain't no one got de better of ole Remy yet."

*

"Then why incite it? Why inspire it? Just tell me… why." Jessica relinquishes the bottle to the counter. "I don't want…" her lips turn down and her eyes turn up to try to meet Remy's. "…you can't be one of those bodies. You can't. Do you fucking understand me?"

*

Remy exhales again and sets the cigarette on the sink. As she looks up to him he takes a step forward and, audaciously, attempts to brush some of the hair from his eyes. "Tante Marie use' to tell me. Dere t'ree type o' people in de world. Dose who make t'ings happen. Dose who watch t'ings happen. And dose who wonder what happened. Always knew which one ah'd be."

*

Jessica closes the distance and then follows suit, brushing the hair from Remy's face. "What you're making happen isn't… it's the same thing. You know that right? What you do, it's the same. It means that the — " her lips turn downwards. "Dammit." She's not expressing herself well. It's probably the booze.

*

"I dun know dat, and I dun agree wit dat. Same time, I tink we gotta figger out what we want, you and I. And if we be willin' to actually change, because if not we ain't doin' each other no favor. An' dat de truth."

*

"I don't want to play games with you." Pause. "Or anyone." Jessica swallows hard. "I was getting clean because I wanted — " her eyebrows knit together tightly and then her head shakes, losing the thought in the process.

*

"Ain't neither you or I real good at tellin' de truth or bein' up front." Remy says, tilting his head. "We say dat, but I get de feelin' all we been doin' is playin' games wit one another."

*

ROLL: Jessica +rolls 1d10 for a result of: 3

*

"This hasn't been some game. This has been…" Jessica's eyes trail to the ceiling. Maybe it's the liquor talking, but, "…necessarily complicated. We met because you needed to find your ex-wife. A woman you were still obviously enamoured with. A woman I was used to kill. But even after that neither of us walked away." There's a long pause. "This is complicated. We are complicated." Her lips press together into a tight line and pensively she watches Remy. "But." And there is a but. "Maybe… complicated doesn't mean bad."

*

"Y'always be sayin' dat about de enamourin' and what not, but ye dun know nut'ing bout my feelin's 'bout Bel." Remy shrugs his shoulders. "Look 'round us. Here, in dis room. In everyting we gettin' involved in. If all dis be complicated, den I tink you know whether not it be good or bad."

*

"Then tell me," Jessica says in return. "If I know nothing, then make it clear." Her lips turn downwards. "All of this we're int he middle of? Yeah, it's bigger than anything we were ready to take on. Bigger than anything we were ready to do. Dammit, Remy." She emits a long sigh. "What do you want? DO you know what you want?"

*

"Course I do," Remy gives her a wink and pulls away from her to grab some coffee mugs now that the coffee seems to be ready. "Ain't still here cuz I ain't go nowhere t'go. Ain't still here cuz it's easy."

*

"Then why you still here?" Jessica asks quietly as her eyes trail after him.

*

"Cuz of you, ya dumbass. Been de whole reason de whole time. Coulda found Bel on m'own. Din have to meet up wit some gal I met at de bar. Bringin' you int'it was what keeps me up at night." Remy turns and hands her the coffee. "Ya need t'shower. Beggin' ya."

*

Jessica's gaze remains trained on Remy. She accepts the coffee cup and sets it on the counter before reaching for Remy's collar to kiss him. If he'll let her. He's now mentioned showering twice so it's hard to say.

*

Remy rests his hand on her hip and kisses her back slowly. "Where d'hell you been for a month?" His face is too close to her to look in her eyes, so he closes his and rests his head against hers.

*

"Convinced you were here because of some guilt complex," Jessica replies flatly. At this distance the whiskey on her breath virtually wafts through the air. She's undoubtedly been a mess.

*

"You mixin' up your timelines, love." Remy leans down and moves as if he's actually going to pick Jessica up. "If you was feelin' dat way, y'could 'ave jus' asked. I'da tole ya."

*

Jessica squints, "Guilt complex seemed real. Figured you hated me. After… everything." Her lips purse lightly. She sniffs loudly, but makes no efforts to move or avoid Remy's touch.

*

"Jess. Now dat dun make no sense. If I was hatin' ya, I wouldn' have stuck around." Remy lifts her up and begins to carry her into the bathroom, turning slightly in order to avoid her banging her head on a wall or door frame.

*

"Right. That's where the guilt part comes in," Jessica replies. "I don't need a shower," she objects, but makes no effort to fight the trip towards it. "So you got my help to find Bel because you… what… wanted company to find Bel? I thought you had a long line of random women lining up."

*

"I did," Remy says with a shrug of his shoulders as he stands her upright, now that they have arrived in the bathroom. "But ain't none of em anyt'ing like you." He leans over, pushing the plastic shower curtain out of the way to turn on the water. "We be livin' in a fake world, chere. Full of radio advertisin' and designer clothin'. Ain't none of dat interest me more den a night."

*

"It's because they can't hold their whiskey," Jessica replies wryly as she reaches out to the wall to find her balance once back on her feet. Her chin lifts and she eyes the shower. "I don't need a shower," she objects again. "And what does interest you then? None of the bullshit, clearly."

*

"You, m'chere, are real. I like t'ings dat are real." Remy pulls off his black t-shirt, pushes the curtain out of the way, uses his other arm to wrap around Jess, and seems as though he's going to pull her into the shower, fully clothed.

*

Jess cants her head at Remy's move into the shower and her eyebrows draw together sharply. Her lips part wordlessly and she shakes her head once. A gleam of mischief reflects in her eyes — something not seen much since the summer before everything went down.

*

Remy pulls and uses his weight to try and bring her into the bathtub with him his jeans and boots still on as he falls into it with or without her. His body pulls part of the curtain from the rings and tears it, but it wasn't getting a lot of work anyways and he gives zero fucks.

*

It's enough of a surprise to catch Jess off-guard, and the combination of surprise and liquor mean that she's far more pliant than normal. "Aaaa fuck!" Jessica falls into the tub with Remy. Her eyes widen as she collapses fully clothed into the bathtub. She collapses into the tub. "What the hell — " she murmurs.

*

Remy moves his arm so it's more around her neck to pull her closer to him as the water splashes off of his chest and face. He closes his eyes and just lays there for a while.

*

The water falls upon the pair and Jessica's eyes close in the weird embrace and shower that the pair find themselves in. She inhales a long breath and shakes her head, "I suppose that's one way to get me into the shower." Her lips quirk at the edges. The smile, falters, however, when she observes, "I was scared for you." Her shoulders shrug against him. It's an unusual moment of honesty, even if it'd been merely implicit minutes earlier.Her lips purse. "Stay tonight." It's an invitation, but now a question.

*

Remy takes a deep inhale but never opens his eyes. "Scared for me because you weren't dere to protec' me." His hand rubs up and down between the shoulder of her shirt and her elbow. "Won' be de last time." When he stops he holds her tight, and though he doesn't answer, he of course will spend the night.

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