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Choices	By : darqstar Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
DISCLAIMER:
The X-Men belong to Marvel comics. This is fanfiction written
soley for entertainment purposes. No money is being made off of this.
Denver is my creation, so is Alex.

Author's
Note: I wrote this story over ten years ago, so much of what you
read here has most likely been disputed as time has gone on.
Especially in regards to Wolverine. So, while I do love and
appreciate all reviews, don't waste your time telling me, “This
just wouldn't work, because Logan is much older!” Also, this is
completely a “What if” story and doesn't fit into Marvel
Continuity.

This
is not a story of sex that happens to contain a plot, it's more of a
story with a plot that happens to contain sex. Not a lot of sex, but
sex anyway. In Chapter Seven to be specific.

Chapter Three

By the end of the first week, Remy found that painting the house
was going to be as difficult as he expected, maybe a bit more so. The
old paint was pealing so badly he had to practically scrape all of it
off. The wood underneath had some water problems, so he had to tell
Alex to get something to help seal it up and waterproof it. She went
to the paint store, asked their advice and returned with an electric
scraper and three gallons of a special sealant that would repel
water.

"This might take me longer than the summer," he pointed
out when she returned with the supplies.

She shrugged. "Well, then you can just stay longer. I'm in no
hurry and as long as the neighbors see someone working on painting
the house, they'll shut up. Why? You got someplace you're itching to
get to?"

He shook his head. "Not me, I'm as free as a bird,"

"Well then, take all the time you need." She turned and
walked into the house.

Remy shook his head amused. Alex was one of the strangest people
he'd ever met. She seemed so laid back in many ways, but there always
seemed to be a strain of tension in her, as though she was a coiled
snake, waiting to strike. Most of the time she stayed hidden in her
office, coming out only for meals and sometimes to watch TV in the
evening. She owned a large collection of horror movies, which she
liked to watch. Remy and Denver sometimes joined her. She seemed to
get the biggest kick out of gory movies, laughing at the worst of the
carnage scenes, and crunching pretzels as bones broke. "That is
so fake!" she'd comment, giggling hysterically. "Real
blood, guts and intestines don't look anything like that." Since
Remy hadn't seen much blood in his life and no human "guts",
he would say nothing. Sometimes he and Denver would look at each
other, laughter in their eyes.

He liked Denver. More than he often wanted to admit. She was
straight forward, honest, and she didn't mince words or play games.
She was often quiet, almost withdrawn, but when she did speak, she
knew exactly what she wanted to say and how to say it. It was rather
disarming at first, but as Remy got used to her, he found he liked
her attitude. You always knew exactly where you stood with Denver and
she didn't feel the need to fill the air with useless chatter. On top
of that, she was an excellent cook. Remy was under-weight due to the
constant problems of procuring food on the road, but he knew that by
the end of his house painting stint, he would be up to his proper
weight.

Sometimes Remy would sit in the kitchen, keeping her company while
she prepared dinner. She cooked the same way she lived her life.
Quietly, thoughtfully, but with a certain ease as though this came as
naturally as breathing. She never consulted a recipe book, but just
made things from the top of her head, adding seasoning and spices
until she felt she had it right. No two meals came out exactly alike,
even if they were having the same foods. She also liked to bake,
apple pie, blueberry muffins, peach cobbler, the list went on. Remy
never knew what to expect for desert, but he knew it would always be
good.

Whenever he complimented Denver on her meals, she would get a
puzzled expression on her face, smile, shrug, and thank him, sounding
almost surprised that he had even noticed what he'd eaten. Remy
supposed that was from living with Alex. When Alex came sat down for
dinner, she would eat quickly, as though she was just trying to get
the needed calories in her body so she could get it over with and
move onto something important.

"Your mother doesn't seem to appreciate you're cooking like I
do, Chere," he commented once as they were washing the supper
dishes.

Denver shrugged. "She's trying to get a book finished up and
off to the publisher. When she's involved with that, I don't think
she notices much of anything. Only reason why she eats at all I
think, is to shut her stomach up for awhile. If I didn't cook, she'd
live on pretzels, beer, and junk food. Before I learned to cook,
that's what she did. I thought that pretzels, Twinkees, and a can of
coke was a normal dinner. Pizza was a treat for special occasions."

Remy looked at her, suddenly seeing a small, quiet little girl
with straight red hair, sitting at the kitchen table drinking soda
and nibbling junk food. It occurred to him, that it must have been
difficult growing up with a mother who was so obsessed with her
career at times, that she could ignore everyone around her, including
her own daughter.

She looked down into the sink full of soapy water. "What are
you staring at, Remy?" she asked, her bangs falling forward into
her eyes.

"No'tin," Remy murmured. Acting on a sudden impulse, he
reached out and gently pushed her hair out of her eyes. The moment he
touched her, it was like an electric shock went through him. He
wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until she was
breathless.

She pulled away from him, and looked up into his eyes. "W...why
d'ya do that?" she asked.

You felt it too, didn't you, Chere? he thought. I
best be careful. I don' think Alex would appreciate me trying to make
time with her daughter, right under her roof. "I thought
you might have trouble seeing what you were doing with all that hair
in your eyes," he said, keeping his voice light, and casual.
"Sorry."

"I-it's okay," she stammered, looking back down at the
sink as though it held all the answers in the universe. "You
just startled me."

It wasn't that I touched you that startled you, he
thought. It was what happened when I touched you. Don' worry
Denver, I felt it too. You aren't loosing your mind. He wanted
to tell her what he was thinking, but he was afraid of what would
happen. He went back to drying the dishes and putting them away.
Quickly, he changed the topic to the weather, trying to make both of
them feel more comfortable.

He shook his head at the memory, and knelt down to opened up the
can of sealant. Although it was barely July, the sun was brutal,
beating on his back like a sledgehammer of pure heat. Remy was
wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, but even that felt like too
much clothing.

"Hey there."

He looked up. Denver was standing over him, holding a glass of
orange juice. She was wearing a black one piece bathing suit that
hugged her like a second skin. "Hello, Chere,"

"Here, I thought you might like this," she handed him
the glass.

"Thank you," He accepted the juice and drank it down in
three large gulps. "Dis painting stuff is thirsty work," he
commented, putting the glass down on the grass.

"It's too hot to paint today," she said, sitting down on
the grass across the can from him. "Even Mom agrees that if you
keep this up, we're going to have to scrape your broiled remains off
the side of the house. Take a break for a few hours and start up
again later this afternoon when it's not so hot."

"I wonder 'ow many other bosses try to convince their
employee not to work so hard, eh?" he asked, smiling.

"Not many," Denver agreed. "But how many employers
have such dedicated employees?"

"True." His glasses started slipping off his nose
because of the sweat. Quickly, he pushed them up.

"Are you really blind without them or something?" Denver
asked. "I've never seen you without your glasses on. Even when
we're just relaxing, you keep them on."

Observant of you, he thought, an' you don' know how
much I'd love to take these off and throw them away forever, but I
can' take the risk. I don' know how you and Alex feel about mutants.
"Dey serve there purpose," he said, shrugging.

She eyed him carefully, but dropped the subject. "Hey, are
you up for a ride?"

"In that air conditioned car of yours?" he asked, "Sure.

"Cool. Let me just go get the keys and my sneakers." She
rose to her feet, picking up the empty juice glass.

"Where are we goin?" he asked, standing up himself.

"Out," she said. "Does it really matter?"

"I guess not."

They drove around for an hour, taking back roads and not doing
much talking. Although she was trying to disguise this as a casual
ride, Remy could tell there was something on her mind. He didn't try
to get her to talk about it. He figured that when she was ready she
would tell him.

She finally turned her car down a small dirt back road that was so
overgrown, Remy thought they would never make it to the end, but she
did, driving through the branches and vines as though she had been
doing this all her life. At the end of the road was a cross between a
large pond and a small lake. She parked the car. "We're here."

"And where is here?" he asked.

"My thinking place," she said. "C'mon."

They got out of the car. Remy looked around. It was a quiet spot
that didn't look as though it got much traffic. Looking across the
lake, he could see several houses. "No one likes this side of
the pond, eh?" he asked.

She shook her head. "There are a lot of huge rocks and stuff
in the water on this side. The other side has nice smooth shores. I
don't really know how that road we took even got here. I've never
seen anyone else come down here but me, and every time I do, that
road gets more and more overgrown. Hard to believe it, but I actually
think this is a forgotten place."

"Back where I come from, there are forgotten places in the
swamps," Remy commented. "Places nobody really likes to go
to. It's dangerous. Alligators, poisonous snakes and the like."

"The most dangerous thing around here are the people,"
Denver commented, making her way down to the water. "But don't
let that kid you. Homosapiens are the most dangerous of the animal
kingdom."

There was something about the way she said homosapiens that made
Remy wonder if she really felt she was part of the species. What
is on dis girls mind? he thought, following her.

She wove her way through the overgrown trees and bushes, snaking
her way down to the shore. At one point she paused and looked over at
him. "Are you coming?"

"Sure am," he said, catching up to her. Remy was a well
coordinated, very agile person, but even he was having trouble with
some of the underbrush. Denver however, made her way as easily as
warm butter on toast. He didn't know if it was due to familiarity
with the area, or if she was one of the most nimble people in the
world.

She lead him down to the shore, to a group of very large rocks.
"Pretty here, isn't it?" she commented.

"Oui," he said, nodding. It was beautiful in a wild,
unchecked way. The water was dark and the reflection from the sun
made it look like it was flecked with silver. Along the shore, the
rocks and trees had taken over, giving the place an overgrown savage
look. Wild roses and ivy had taken over some of the trees, vineing
their way around, splashing color.

She climbed up onto a large rock and sat down. "C'mon,
there's room for two."

Shrugging, Remy joined her. The top of the rock was large enough
and flat enough for both of them to sit comfortably, providing they
didn't mind being a little close. Remy didn't mind that at all and
Denver didn't seem to either. She sniffed the air. "No one has
been around here but me." she commented.

"How do you know that?" Remy asked.

She tapped her nose. "Remember the gum in your shoe? Same
thing. I can tell when people have been around. People do have a
scent and despite the deodorant ads, all the Mitchum or RightGuard in
the word isn't going to get rid of it. Mask it a little bit, but not
get rid of it."

Remy suddenly felt self conscious. He'd been sweating all morning,
working on the house. When he'd gone inside to grab his shoes for
this ride, he'd quickly slapped on some Mennon Speed stick. "I
keep forgetting about your sensitive nose, Chere."

"It's not the sort of thing I remind people of," she
said. "The moment I do tell someone, they usually get
uncomfortable and start trying to sniff their pits on the sly."

It had occurred to Remy to do exactly that, although he didn't
know quite how he'd manage with her so near. Immediately he blushed
and turned away, looking down at the water.

"The ironic thing," Denver continued, "is that
people don't really smell as bad as the deodorant companies would
like them to think they do. Sure, if someone doesn't wash or bathe
for a week and then work up a sweat, I'm going to be offended. Anyone
would be. But if someone is relatively clean to begin with and they
work up a little honest perspiration, they don't smell that bad to
me. Actually, some people's sweat smells okay. Like yours."

He looked back over at her. "Oh? An' what do I smell like to
you?"

She tipped her head to one side, studying him. "You smell
like cigarettes, coffee, honest work, and a touch of orange juice
from the glass I gave you earlier. You also smell of Speed stick
deodorant. But underneath it all, you have your own individual scent,
which reminds me of rain, wind, and road tar."

"Road tar?" he questioned.

"Yep." she nodded, not offering any further explanation.
"You also have a certain musk scent which strengthens at certain
times. Tell me, Remy, are you horny a lot?"

For the first time Remy was grateful about having to wear the
stupid glasses, so she couldn't see how wide his eyes were in shock.
"What do you thin'k, Chere," he asked, keeping his voice as
light and casual as he could. "I am a man."

"True." Her expression was as even as though they were
just discussing last nights dinner.

Wonder what you would do if I told you that you 'ad a lot to
do with bein' horny lately? he thought. I can't help it, I
look at you and I just want to start kissing you until you're beggin'
me to go further. I thought I 'ad it under control, but I keep
forgetting about the wonder nose you're sportin'. "Does it
bother you?"

Denver shook her head. "I'm used to it. Heck, my mother gets
turned on sometimes and I can tell. She really needs to find
someone."

Although he hadn't been staying with them for long, Remy had
already discovered that Alex and Denver treated each other more as
friends than mother and daughter, so Denver's remark didn't disturb
him. "She might be sayin' the same about you."

"She probably is," Denver said.

"So how come it is you don't have a boyfriend?" Remy
asked.

She looked over at him, one eyebrow cocked. "How come you
don't have a girlfriend?"

"Rather 'hard when you be on the road all t' time."

"Okay, you win." She chuckled for a moment, then
frowned. "I don't have a boyfriend for a pretty simple reason.
I'm not very well liked."

"Oh, c'mon Chere, you are not bad," Remy protested.
"You're smart and kind and a heck of a cook." An' not
to mention gifted w'it a body that just won't quit. "I'm
sure lots of people like you."

"Nope," she shook her head, not looking the least bit
upset that she was confessing to something that most women her age
would find repulsive. "I'm not very kind. I speak my mind when I
feel I should and to hell with the consequences. I'm a nonconformist
and I keep to myself most of the time. Hardly the stuff boys my age
dream about. Besides," She paused for a moment, pushing her hair
out of her eyes. "I don't find most people my age very
interesting to talk to. Mom often comments that I was born old and I
sometimes I think she's right."

"An' what about me?" he asked. "Do you find me
boring?"

"Nope. Then again, you aren't exactly like most kids our age
either. You've lived on your own,. You've seen the world and what
it's all about."

He nodded, understanding exactly what she was saying. In his years
on the road, he found himself growing up faster than he would have if
he had stayed in New Orleans. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing
or not, but it was fact. Having to struggle every day, just to
survive put a different perspective on things. "You're right,"
he concluded. "Bein' on my own has caused me to grow up quickly.
But why are you so old for your age?"

"Certain problems in my life, I guess," Denver shrugged.
"As my mom says, I was born old. And, as I've gotten older, I've
had other problems that have made me grow up even quicker."

"What problems are those?" he asked, truly wanting to
know.

She shrugged. "I'd rather not talk about it now. Maybe some
other time, I'll tell you about it. Maybe."

He knew she wouldn't say another word about it, no matter how hard
he pried so he didn't bother. Instead, he lit up a cigarette and
looked across the lake at the houses.

For several minutes they sat there together, not saying a word.
Remy finished his smoke and flicked the butt into the water where it
fizzed out. Denver's eyes watched the butt then turned back to look
at him. "Have you ever done it?"

"Done what?" he asked.

"Had sex."

It wasn't a question he was used to hearing, at least not in such
a straight-forward manner from someone who didn't seem to be making a
pass at him. He was tempted to make one of his usual quips, but he
couldn't. "A couple times," he mumbled. He could have
indulged in that most human of acts quite a bit more in these past
few years, but most of the time he didn't have the heart. Even though
he knew he would probably never see Belle again, part of him still
loved her dearly and it just seemed wrong to leap into bed with
someone else who he didn't feel even close to the same about. The
couple times he actually had sex, it was good while it was happening,
but afterwards he felt empty inside and more lonely than ever.
Somehow he didn't think that was the way he was suppose to feel after
such an act. "Um...have you?"

She shook her head. "I'm curious about it though. What's it
like?"

He looked at her, not quite believing what she was saying. "I...I
can't really explain it."

"You're wimping out," she said.

"Maybe I am, Chere," he smiled, trying to cover up his
nervousness. "But there are some 'things even I cannot explain.
Some things you need to find out for yourself..."

"I suppose." She frowned for a moment, her head bent
forward, causing her hair to flop back into her eyes. She studied her
lap intently for a moment, then looked up. "Could you tell me
what it's like to kiss someone?"

This was much safer ground. "It depends on who your wi't,"
he said softly. "If you're kissin' someone you don't really care
about, it's not much fun. It just feels like two people slidin''
their lips around."

"And if you care about the person you kissing?"

He felt like her eyes were drilling a hole into him, trying to
search his soul. He looked up towards the treetops. "If you
really like the person your wi't...'den it's wonderful. Then you feel
like you're soaring above the clouds. You feel as light as air and
your whole body tingles."

"You make it sound like lack of oxygen," she said,
frowning.

He chuckled softly. "I guess it doesn't sound as good when
you describe it. It's better when you actually try it for yourself.

She was still looking at him. "Was that a suggestion?

She whispered it so softly he almost didn't hear it...almost... He
hesitated, not quite knowing what he should do. "I would like
to," he finally confessed. "But I don' know if dat's such a
great idea."

"Why?" They were moving closer together, hardly aware
that they were doing it. Their shoulders were touching, then their
thighs...

"I...I don't know," he admitted, feeling confused. His
mind was focused on one thing now. Slowly he slipped his arm around
her, pulling her closer, she willingly allowed him to embrace her,
putting her arm around him, turning her face up towards his. Her eyes
were staring at him, burning into his soul. "An' right now,
Chere, I don' really care."

The moment their lips met, it was just as Remy had described to
her. His whole body began to tingle and he felt as light as air. He
kissed her harder, wrapping his arms around her tighter. She pulled
herself closer into him, as though she wanted to melt into him, her
hands running up his back and over his shoulder blades. Gently, he
ran his tongue over her teeth, until they parted slightly. Careful,
he told himself. Dis 'is the first time dis girl ever kiss
anyone... sometimes the first reaction to the tongue action ain't
good... He remembered the first time he "French"
kissed Belle, she had pulled away from him in shock and disgust. It
wasn't until they had tried it several more times that she finally
learned to enjoy it. He eased his tongue into her mouth, running it
over her teeth. Her reaction wasn't one of revulsion, instead she
pressed her mouth harder to his, and started running her own tongue
along his.

For several minutes, they explored each others mouths, until they
knew them like their own. When they finally drew away, they were both
breathless and flushed. She looked at him, trying to see past the
dark glasses. "Damned rock," she muttered.

Remy supressed a laugh, for his thoughts had been running along
the same lines. "Dis rock is a good form of Birth control, no?"

"One of the best," she said, smirking.

He grew solemn. "I don' know if dis is such a good idea."
Denver was a nice girl and one of the few people he'd met on the road
that he wished to call friend. "Your mother ain't gonna take to
kindly to you carrying on 'wit de hired hand."

She laughed, her eyes suddenly dancing in the afternoon light. "My
mom is on space mountain half the time anyway. Besides, she's never
been one to be overly worried about what I do in my spare time.
Anyway, no one but you is looking at you as the hired hand. You've
become a friend of the family."

"I'm sure your mother doesn't want you sleeping around,"
Remy pointed. "Even if she is the most liberal mother in 'de
world, I'm sure she don' want you getting a disease or catching'
pregnant."

"Mom showed me what condoms were and how they were used when
I was fourteen," Denver stated, her expression as calm as the
water they were sitting near. "That lecture came right on the
heels of the 'today you are a woman' one. As for diseases, well, they
aren't a problem."

"How can you be sure of that, Chere?" he asked. "They're
discovering stuff out there now 'dat'll kill you. Herpes was bad
enough, but dis AIDS thing..." he shook his head.

"Trust me, Remy, diseases are not a problem."

Her tone implied their was no room for argument. Remy had no wish
to tangle with the stubborn side of Denver, knowing that when she was
set on something, she was unshakable. Instead, he lit up a cigarette.

"Look, no one is saying we have to sleep together,"
Denver said. "But I have to be honest, I wouldn't mind doing
some more of that kissing stuff again."

The least he could do was return her honesty. "Me neither,
Chere."

It wasn't until they were heading home when Remy remembered
Denver's remark about Homosapiens. He looked over at her. She was
looking out at the road, an almost serene expression on her face.
"Can I ask you some'tin Chere?"

She turned and looked at him briefly, before turning her eyes to
the road. "Sure."

"What did you mean by that comment about homosapiens bein'
dangerous. De way you sounded, I'd t'ink you were hinting dat you
don' consider yourself one of the breed."

She shrugged. "Maybe I don't. Maybe I'm not."

"What else could you be?" he pried.

She didn't even look at him. "Hey Remy, why do you wear those
dark glasses."

Remy let the subject drop.

End Chapter Three.
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Choices

Chapter Three