Disclaimer: Characters property of Marvel but for once, we are glad the character is not ours, although we wish Rogue and Remy were so we could do them properly.

sek, lies and videotape

by RogueStar and Keri Wilson

"Is this thing on?" The attractive brunette with a distinctive streak in

her hair took a step back from the camera and leaned down to peer into the

lens with a suddenly enormous green eye, "Huh. Ah can build th' Blackbird up

again from scratch, but can't turn on a dang video-recorder. Anyway,

Sekhmet, Ah don't know if you remember me, but Ah'm Rogue Darkholme. Well,

was Rogue Darkholme when we met. Ah've had a slight change o' surname since

then fo' all th' right reasons. . . . It's now LeBeau-Darkholme or

Darkholme-LeBeau - Ah can never remember if mah husband's name comes first

or mine, but it doesn't really matter. Just ta clarify somethin' in case

you really are as dense as you look - that's Remy Etienne LeBeau, not Lapin,

not Henri, not Jean-Luc or any other member of his huge clan. Oh, come on,

honey - put your jaw back in position 'cause no-one is interested in seein'

yo' uvula. Or any other part o' you, ta be brutally honest. Now, let's put

that in terms even an airhead like you can understan': Remy no like Sek,

Remy like Rogue."

Remy grinned, both from the nice view he was getting- Rogue bent over the

camcorder, and her feisty words. The former because Rogue had the sexiest

butt he'd ever seen, and it was part of the woman he loved in large part

because of the later. That feisty sassiness was first a challenge and a turn

on, and later the voice his heart sang to. He felt he belonged to her body

and soul, long before the first time she had absorbed his psyche, and long

after as well... Now they had both made the commitment to make this forever,

forget death do us part! Never do us part! He had asked permission of the

priest to change the wording that way. Rogue had been there when Remy had

asked and the burst of love she sent out to him at that moment was a

palatable memory. It had been as strong as the emotional high he got from

his slight empathic abilities when she had told him she loved him the first

time.

Rogue turned around and winked at him, "Yoah turn Remy."

Remy still wore his wedding tux, and he adjusted the level of the camcorder

to make sure it focused on him above the waist only. He looked into the

lens then and said,"Sek, you see dis?" He held up his left hand so that his

wedding band was clearly visible. "I'm married now to de woman I love my all my heart and soul. Her name is Rogue. You met her before. I've loved her for a long time. Long before you met me. You're a sweet kid, but you're a friend, I don' feel

anyt' ing more for you. You need to move on wit' your feelings for someone dat will be in love wit' you. I'm not, nor ever have been dat person."

Remy regretted being quite so harsh with the girl but he knew nothing else

would work to stop her throwing herself at him. At first the comments about

his "nice tush" had been amusing, but they quickly became grating as did all

of her other "I'm just going to gush all over about your nice bod" comments.

He never had liked the adoring Lapdog type. A wicked moment had him

picturing Sek married to Magneto, but he doubted even Magnus would

put up with her that long. He smirked- No he knew who was perfect for

Sek- Courier! Hmm maybe a talk with Jake could be arranged ;)

Done with his part, but not being able to resist doing one last bit because

the rhapsodizing Sek had made of his "tush" had been repeated especially

numerous times, he reached over to Rogue grabbed her in his arms, kissed her

passionately while he squeezed her butt. In full view of the camcorder. He

leered at Rogue and said, "Now dats de tush I wanna see. Most sexy one in

de universe, and it belongs to you Roguie."

"Carry on like that, LeBeau, an' you'll soon be able tah check if mah fist is

th' sexiest in the universe," her bemused tone contradicted the pugilistic

words as she squirmed out of his grip and came to stand in full-view of the

camera. Like her husband, she was still dressed in her wedding clothes - a

simple, elegant sheath of white silk that made her look like a lily.

Although she had eschewed the traditional veil, orange-blossom was twined in

her streaked hair. She wore only a touch of lipstick and even less rouge,

but, in the manner of all new brides, was the most beautiful woman in the

universe at that moment. Models would have thrown away their Stairmasters

in anger and fired their plastic surgeons in despair had they seen her.

Her voice was very soft when she finally spoke, "I love him, Sek; know him

as intimately and as perfectly as any part of myself. Aftah all, he *was*

mah eyes when Ah was blind. You . . . you don't have th' first idea about

who he really is. You see th' facade - th' charm, th' wit, th' looks - and

forget about th' man underneath it. Don't get me wrong - th' things Ah've

mentioned are a part of him, an' Ah love them, but they aren't the most

important part ta me. Not by far."

She turned to Remy, an unreadable, inscrutable smile on her lovely face. His

expression reflected hers, shifting from a decided smirk to strange

tenderness. His eyes questioning, his emotions written on every fine

feature, he asked: "What is, cherie?"

"Ah love th' way you laugh when you forget how others see you, when you

forget you have tah mourn. Ah love your quaint an' frankly chivalric sense o'

honor. Ah love how you put clan an' family first; how you're good with

children. Ah love that you never treated me like mah powers, that you've

always let me be a woman rather than a mutation. Ah love how you can cook up

gourmet meals on the stove, yet tell me that mah sandwiches knock spots off

any of them. Ah love that th' waltz is th' only dancestep that you know. Ah

guess, Ah love that Ah discover new things about you every day," then, with

a wicked grin to rival his own, "Although, it could just be th' tush thing."

Remy gave one of those rare totally unrestrained laughs. "Oh cherie, you

make me feel free. De closer I get de less my burdens seem. Don' have t'

play a role f' you. `Less it's for a game, neh?" He leered and winked at Rogue

playfully.

Rogue smirked, "Depends on the game, Cajun."

Then Remy's gaze turned soft and romantic as did his words. "You are de

fulfillment of all my dreams. I dreamed of being wit' you forever. Now you

have given me dat chance. Merci beaucoup."

Rogue looked into his eyes and quietly responded, "Merci beaucoup." They

shared a tender brief kiss.

Then Remy turned back to the camcorder and said the final words, "Well dats

our whole story Sek, leastwise all we are going t' say here. We wish you

well. Hope you find your own path and follow it. Au revoir."

Remy snapped off the record button.

"Now ma chere, we can start de honeymoon!" Remy swooped Rogue into his arms

and with much laughter they left the machine behind them in the quiet

dimness.

A few hours - or moments - later, a considerably more disheveled Rogue

flicked the record-button of the camcorder on for a second time. The

gracious dream of silk and lace that was her wedding dress had been replaced

by a considerably more prosaically flannel bathrobe. Her hair, still wet from

the shower she had taken, was loose around her shoulders. Despite the

disadvantages of dress and coiffure, she still was beautiful with a strange,

internal radiance that had nothing to do with cheap tricks of make-up.

"Ah thought Ah should add a postscript to this," she said, lips compressing

slightly, "All appearance to th' contrary, Ah don't hate you. Ah've had mah

share of hopeless love affairs, where Ah've chased aftah someone who was

madly, truly, deeply with someone else. Gawd, when Ah think of how Ah must

have embarrassed mahself . . . ."

She looked away for a moment, a slight flush rising to color her cheeks. Her

hands went to pick at a loose thread in the robe and she smiled wanly,

gazing steadily at the lens.

"Ah guess this was mah way o' warnin' you not ta do th' same. Remy . . .

Remy didn't want ta go along with it at first, because Ah suspect he does

love you in a way. Don't take any encouragement from that, though, because

it ain't as more than a dear friend, a sweet kid. Ah knew it was th' only

way tah shock you out of your crush an' that is fo' your own good. Ah mean,

Ah could tell you a thousand times that he loved me an' Ah loved him an' we

were married, but you'd nevah believe it unless you saw it with your own

eyes. He agreed with me in th' end. So, Sek, Ah do hope you find yo' Mr

Right someday an' that he loves you as much as you deserve. Ah know Ah did."

With a slight, tired sigh, Rogue turned the camcorder off for the final

time, divested herself of her bathrobe to reveal a silken nightgown and

snuggled back beneath the covers.

Her husband's hand snaked over the sheet to cover her one, squeezing it reassuringly, then, smiling, he propped himself up on an elbow and

looked at her: "I'm proud o' ya, cherie."

She grinned back at him, inching closer: "Talk's cheap, LeBeau."

"So it is," he smirked, "Good thing I let m'actions speak f'r me."

She laughed and then there was no more need for words.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Through her haze of self-delusion, Sekhmet Conoway only managed to pick up

two words that Remy spoke: "Marry" and "me." In her mind, she picked out her

trousseau, bought shelves of fine china and asked her sister to be her

matron of honor, while fighting down the urge to giggle insanely. So he had

finally proposed after months of her plying her feminine wiles on him. She

would be Mrs Sekhmet LeBeau - she mentally practised the signature a dozen

times and approved of it.

Although, she mused, what had that odd, skunk-woman been doing there? In the

light of the magnificence that was Remy LeBeau, she had forgotten to pay

attention to what the creature had been saying. She knew her, of course. She

had met her months ago and had thought nothing of it, although the skunk had had a suspicious look of amusement in her eyes when Sek had mentioned Remy. Still, she was probably only there to proffer her congratulations on his engagement. Squeezing the tush of the person who wished you luck must be a quaint Cajun custom; one with which Sek was more than happy . . . .

All but purring to herself, Sek rewound the tape, wanting to relive the joy

of the decidedly unusual, if romantic, proposal, and hit play. . . .

Something was different this time Sek thought confusedly. Gradually it sunk

through the layers of delusion and she screamed in outrage! That, that,

southern tramp had stolen her Remy! How dare she! Remy was hers! Hadn't she

been there for him, hung on every word, praised his bod over and over? Why

would he reject her for that trollop! It wasn't fair! Sek angrily ejected the

tape from the VCR and tried to physically rip the tape from it's casing. Her

efforts were less than successful all she succeeded and doing was stretch the

piece of tape visible at the top. She slammed the cassette against the

nearest wall. This time the results were slightly better, the casing

developed a crack. Enraged and wishing for total destruction of the

offending object she slammed it to the concrete floor and stamped on

in a tantrum that drew witnesses as she smashed the object and screamed

in her fury. "I want that southern twit dead, dead, dead! Remy belongs to me!"

Once she had calmed down slightly, by which time Sek's office in Elysian

Enterprises resembled New York after a particularly heroic act by the X-Men,

she walked out of the building deep in thought. Behind her, her team, who

had come to gawk at the spectacle of their hated boss behaving like a two

year-old, picked up the mangled video-tape and wondered whether they could

piece it together and have it playing in her apartment 24 hours a day.

Unfortunately, it was destroyed beyond all recognition, so they settled for

placing a few strategic thumbtacks on her chair point-up and walked away

vaguely dissatisfied.

Sek, on the other hand, was becoming more and more satisfied with her

cunning plan to win back Remy. The visit to the hairdressers had proved

profitable, although they had lifted sardonic eyebrows when they had heard

what she wanted done. The dress, although not her usual style or color,

fitted her like a glove, while she teetered in high-heels of amazing height.

She had even gone as far to go to the optometrist and force him to give her

suitable contact lenses, even though she could barely see through them and

had walked into a dozen poles. Finally pleased with the overall effect, she

looked in the mirror with a smile. Through the green haze that was her

vision, Sek could see that there was a white smudge amidst the dark mass

that was her hair. The jade-velvet cocktail dress was snug around her,

dipping as low as decency allowed at her bosom and back. Smirking, she told

her reflection in an excruciating, Dallas-meets-Gone-with-the-Wind voice:

"Like Ah'm gonna let someone with that cute a tush get away . . . . sugah."

******