In The Hands of a Stranger

On Her Own: Part 2

A few hours later she awoke to find someone on top of her. It was the old drunk she bumped into outside the motel. She wanted to scream but nothing would come out. Don't panic, she told herself. That's the worst thing ya can do. She remembered all those danger room sessions and some sort of instinct kicked in. With the man's hand on her throat and her arms pinned down, her legs were still free so she gave him a good kick in the crotch. He rolled off of her howling in pain while she stumbled onto the floor. That gave her enough time to get to her feet and run for the door. As soon as she reached it he grabbed her from behind.

"Hey, girly, that not nice."

He had his hands around her neck so she used all her pent up strength to flip him over, well almost. It didn't actually go off like that but it did give her enough time to grab her bag and run out of the room. She ran down the stairs and out the front door onto the streets of New Orleans.

"Well, that place was a waste a time, plus, ya almost got yaself killed."

So she started walking. She was hungry anyway and wanted to find a bite to eat. This trip ain't turnin' out so great. She said to herself. She was starting to regret leaving altogether now. She found a little bar and grill not too far from the motel. She went in. It was crowded and that made her feel uneasy. She didn't like crowds. She tried to tell herself that it was all in her head, mainly because she didn't have her powers anymore. Can't hurt by touching anymore, she told herself. Those days were gone.

She sat down at a table near the back. Soon a waiter approached. "Wha' be yo' pleasure?"

"Don't know, what d' you recommend?"

"Don' worry, chere', Jaque bring ya somethin' tasty."

The bar was bustling that night, men playing cards or pool and a few drunks getting thrown out. She just sat quietly at her table waiting for the waiter to bring her food. Suddenly the mood of the bar changed. It got suddenly quiet. A man in a trench coat entered and Rogue noticed many patrons burying their heads in their drinks.

"Hey, Remy," the bartender said as the man in the trench coat sat down at the bar. "T'e usual."

"Oui, Jaque, but a...make it a double, neh?"

"So where yah been? Ain't seen ya 'round. Too busy wid da ladies to visit ole friends."

"Neh? Jus' got some t'ings goin'?"

"Don' wanna know," he said.

"Won' tell yah anyways," he said, stretching out across the bar. Rogue had been watching him the entire time, and he had just noticed her. "Who dat? Haven't seen her 'fore."

"Don' know, ole Rem, mos' be fro' outta town."

"An here, ole Remy t'inks ya hidin' somet'ing." Both men laughed at the comment. Rogue looked away when she relieved he was staring at her. "Hey, Jaque, plate a' jambalaya, and bring it to dat table over dere."

"Wha'ever yah say."

He approached her table which made her shutter. "Seat taken?" he asked. She shook her head no. She sat stiffly avoiding his face. "Hey, dere, pretty lady no eat 'lone."

He sat down next to her. She then looked up at him and noticed that he was wearing sunglasses. That's strange, at night. Her first instinct told her that he had something to hide.

"Don' mind if ah sit wid you?" She shook her head no. Something about him was making her nervous. "Pretty lady no talk." He smiled which eased her a little. "Dat be okay. My name's Remy. What be yours?"

She saw that he held out his hand. She took it reluctantly. "Umm... Ah'm...ah...Rogue." She folded her hands across her lap. She was still nervous about people touching her.