Author's notes: Hi, guys! Thank you so much for all the positive reviews for my first fic! So I guess I'm back for another one-shot. I completely scrapped the initial idea that I had and came up with this, a spur in the moment kind of thing. Here it goes… (also no accents for either of them)

Falling Into Place

August 2017

Her body tossed and turned in utter annoyance – a mechanized response to the trifling heat encircling her old bedroom in the mansion. Pale skin slick with sweat, she had long abandoned her tank top and shorts in an attempt to displace the heat.

Not that it made any difference.

Her bed creaked once more as she turned to rest on her side, first on her the left and then her right. "Oh, fuck it," she muttered to herself in indignation, jolting her body upright. Putting the previously discarded clothes and a robe on, she left the room before she could change her mind, slamming the door shut behind her.

A moment later, she was standing in the hallway of the boys' wing. Specifically, on the fourth floor where the male senior staff members' rooms were located. Almost hesitantly, she knocked on the door at the end of the deserted hallway. She didn't have to wait long.

"Rogue?" His voice was warm and gentle, especially in the quiet of the night. He certainly hadn't expected to see her standing outside his room at a quarter past one.

"Remy, look. I know we've been broken up for a while now and this is probably a weird request but can I sleep with you tonight?"

Remy blinked in surprise.

"Crash. I mean crash. Crash with you. In your room. Tonight. It's just that the air-conditioning in mine broke down and it's hot like a mother in there and you know how I get when it's too warm. I'm just really exhausted from the mission today and your room has always been the best at knocking me out cold and I just really, really need to sleep," she rambled, all in one breath.

An awkward silence hung between them. Remy's roughened hand was still holding onto the doorknob and he was dressed only in his pyjamas pants, which, she noticed, was rudely hanging low on his waist – almost as distracting as his chest and perfectly-sculpted abs being bared for her to see. He was silent, standing there in all of his 6' 2" glory. Rogue tried to keep her gaze at face-level and not anywhere below that.

Remy was staring at her, seemingly taking her words (and her) in. After a short pause, he pulled the door back, just enough for her to enter.

"Make yourself at home, chere," he announced, with a mix of amusement and smugness plastered on his face.

Rogue sauntered in in relief. "Thanks, you're a life-saver." Almost immediately, she felt the cold air of the room brush against her cheeks. Despite the coldness, she felt a warmth – a pleasant one this time – growing somewhere deep inside her. She took in the familiar sight. It had been a long while – too long – since she had last stepped in here. Yet, it almost seemed like she hadn't left. Like he hadn't left to join Apocalypse's crusade. Like she hadn't left after everything that happened since. Still, she took comfort in the familiarity of the room. The walls were still painted in the same shade of grey (which Rogue had previously begged fruitlessly to be painted over in favour of a brighter colour). Remy's old furniture were still kept in-tact and arranged in the same layout as she had remembered. The framed abstract painting, which she still could not decipher, was there, assuming its usual spot above the dresser. Even the soft velvet cushions that she had bought for him were sitting on the loveseat by the window.

Removing her robe, she draped it over the chair by the desk. "Did I wake you?" she asked.

"Non, you didn't. I was just getting ready for bed actually."

"Long night?"

"Long night."

Remy made his way over to the queen-sized bed and plopped down on the right side. His usual spot back then. He patted the empty space next to him.

"Just sleeping, alright?" she said in response, taking her place on the bed. "None of that… other stuff." She waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought.

"I'm not the one walking into your room, asking to sleep with you, chere."

"Shut up," she said matter-of-factly, throwing a pillow in his face. She fluffed her pillows, eager to make herself comfortable for the much needed sleep. "Lordy, it's so cold in here. I could sleep like a baby."

"If babies snore that is," Remy retorted.

Any prior concern that Rogue had about her sleeping detour being awkward dissipated. They were falling back into their usual routine of playful banter.

"I do not snore!" she exclaimed defensively.

His tone was calm but teasing. If there was one thing Remy loved to do, it was to get on Rogue's nerves. Just for the kick of it. "Chere, I've spent many nights with you. I think I know what I'm talking about. You are most definitely, a certified snorer."

"Yeah, well… If I snore so loudly, why is it that you can still sleep through the night? You're a light sleeper!"

"How would you know if I'm fast asleep or awake when you're snoring away?"

"Ugh!" She turned on her side, away from her source of annoyance. "I ain't got the energy to fight with you tonight, Remy LeBeau. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight."

Remy smiled to himself. He'd won, even if he needed to lie his way to victory. "Goodnight, Rogue."

"One more thing, Swamp Rat. Hands to yourself. No funny business."

"Wouldn't dream of it,chere."

It was funny though because he didn't need to dream of it. An hour or two after Rogue had fallen asleep, Remy was awakened by a familiar weight draped across his torso. True to Rogue's words, he was a notorious light-sleeper. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was welcomed by the sight of milky-white skin plastered to his tanned one. Her head was tucked snugly in the crook of his neck, dark auburn hair with a streak of white tickling his skin. Arm wrapped around his waist, Rogue was breathing softly, lost in a deep slumber.

Momentarily stunned, Remy remained fixed in his position, not moving a muscle. He hadn't expected to wake up with Rogue snuggling his body, akin to a kid hugging her stuffed toy to bed. Especially not after her insistent words to maintain a line he dared not cross. He had thought of disengaging her sleeping form to keep the impersonal distance that she had demanded. However, looking at her fast asleep, especially after the tiresome mission that had evidently worn her out, he didn't have the heart to risk waking her up. And if he was to be honest with himself, he had missed the feeling of having her in his arms. God help him, he missed her in a way he shouldn't. Not after everything that had happened in the astral plane with the Shadow King. Not after how they had painfully decided to stop having a go at a romantic relationship, resigning instead to a platonic one. They told themselves that it was better that way. Easier.

Or so they thought.

Slowly, Remy carefully manoeuvred his arm, crushed by her weight, around her shoulder to hold her tight. Rogue stirred slightly, moving even closer, but did not wake. Remy relished in the feel of her. It had been so long. He knew he was being selfish in granting himself contentment in what was an honest mistake on her part but he couldn't help it. He needed this. His life was in a constant state of tumult, like a landslide destroying everything in its path. Even more so in the events of the last few months. It was change after change after change. He needed stability. He needed familiarity. He needed comfort. He needed warmth. He needed light.

He needed Rogue.

Very softly, he kissed the top of her head, careful not to wake her. Then, he allowed himself to close his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. Before he knew it, he fell into a deep sleep.

Rogue awakened to the feel of warm breath brushing against her forehead. Sleepily, she opened an eye. For a moment, she had no recollection as to where she was. She noticed that the curtains were still drawn but tiny rays of sunlight seeped uninvitingly into the room, just enough for her vision to focus on the sleeping form that was huddled comfortably next to her.

She gasped.

Almost immediately, she jolted upright and stared down at the man beside her. Memories of the night before unfolded in her mind. Fully awake now, she recalled that she had gone over to Remy's room to catch some sleep. But sleep wasn't the only thing that she caught that night, judging from the prior position she found herself in – the way she was clinging to him like a human bolster. She surveyed the bed. Remy was still confined to the same spot before they had drifted off to sleep. This meant that she had gone over to him sometime in the night. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Remy wouldn't let her hear the end of it if he knew. Especially after how she had warned him about strictly keeping his hands to himself. She cringed at the memory.

Rogue mentally slapped herself. This was a bad idea from the start. Crashing in with your ex whom you were pretty much still in love with? That was a disaster waiting to happen. Amidst the plethora of feelings consuming her, Rogue realized that Remy was still fast asleep. This was unlike him, considering that the softest of sounds, like the creak of a floorboard, was enough to startle the man awake – a result of the years of conditioning as a thief. Rogue recalled the times Remy would jolt awake in the middle of the night – bat ready by the bedside – when they were powerless and relatively defenceless back when they were living together in Valle Soleada. This Remy next to her though was knocked out cold. Must be one hell of a night, Rogue mused.

Her gaze lingered on his face, eyelids closed against the dim light of dawn, his breathing so deep and relaxed, the world seemed to stand still. What are you dreaming about, Remy? It didn't matter though. Rogue took comfort in the knowledge that he was tucked away in the safety of the vast landscape of his dreams, away from the dangers of the real world. She couldn't help but smile. When was the last time had she seen Remy so relaxed, so at peace? The nights spent in Valle Soleada maybe? Being stripped of their powers back then granted them the liberty to explore the full dynamic of their relationship. Many nights were spent exploring each other's bodies – nights of unbridled passion that were denied to them for far too long. Though the love-making was extraordinary, Rogue lived for the intimacy of the moments that followed afterwards. With both their guards down, the nights would end in meaningful pillow talk, their vulnerabilities bared for only the other to see. Here, Rogue would get glimpses of the real Remy, of his hopes and fears and dreams. It used to make her fall in love with him even more.

It still did.

She studied him as he slept. The first orange hued rays of sunlight kissed his skin, illuminating his defined features. He looked older since their time together, but still as ravishing. His dark hair, though shorter now, was spilling over onto his forehead and she fought the urge to brush it aside. She watched as his long, dark lashes fluttered slightly against his cheeks. She wanted to kiss each of his eyelids and feel the tickle of his thick lashes. Her gaze then settled on his lips, soft and slightly parted. Lips that she had never gotten tired of kissing. It didn't matter that they had been apart for ages, the feel and taste of his lips against hers seemed to be imprinted in her memory. She so badly craved to relive those moments but she knew that she couldn't. Instead, she ran her finger lightly along the contours of his face, careful not to wake him. She knew damn well that she shouldn't be doing this. That it was wrong. She shouldn't engage in an act so intimate, so sacred, that it was reserved only for couples together and in love. Yet, her finger landed on the two freckles along his nose bridge. They seemed to ignite a memory from a lifetime ago.

"Did you know," Rogue quizzed, her body resting on its side as she stared down at the man lying in bed with her, "that you have exactly two freckles on your face?"

Remy chuckled. "And did you know that you have freckles everywhere else on your body?"

Rogue swatted him playfully. "I'm serious, Rem!"

"Alright, where?"

"Right here." A kiss on the side of his nose. "And here." Another kiss. "I've wanted to do that for so long now," Rogue beamed.

Smiling, Remy cupped her face in his hand, gently running his thumb over her cheeks. "Chere, I think I have plenty more freckles down here." He pointed to his nether regions.

His face was met roughly with a pillow.

Rogue smiled to herself. It was one of her favourite memories from one of their first few nights together. She then moved her finger away from his nose to trace the stubbles lining his cheeks. She remembered a time when he had decided to keep a proper beard which, to his amusement, immensely turned her on. Until it gave her a serious case of beard burn. He hadn't kept a full beard since.

Rogue continued her exploration of Remy's face with her finger. It seemed like the trail it followed dug up old memories and brought them back to the surface – memories that she had fought hard to keep hidden if they were to leave their old relationship behind and continue as friends. Yet, recollections of date nights, Valentine's Days, danger room sessions, watching the Californian sunset, even missions together, begged to be revisited. What am I doing? What's wrong with me? Suddenly, Rogue was overwhelmed with a heavy, sinking feeling that dragged along any pang of happiness that she had felt moments before, as the heaviness settled low in her chest. Her vision of Remy blurred as she felt tears cloud her eyes. This was a mistake. She should have never gone back here. It was just a painful reminder of everything that she had lost. She'd thought that after the talk they had – the same talk that ended in tears and heartbreak, with them choosing to finally close the chapter of their lives together – that she'd be strong enough to have Remy back in her life as a friend. It had been months since that talk. Months since she resigned her role as an Avenger and went back to being a full-time X-Man. The finality of their relationship should have settled in by now. Shouldn't it?

Suddenly, it felt like every lie she had ever told herself came tumbling down on her like a pile of bricks. Unable to hold back her tears any longer, she let them fall freely, whimpering.

Her cries didn't go by unheard.

Remy stirred, awakening to find Rogue propped up next to him, her face hovering at his side. It didn't take him long to register that the soft sounds he heard had come from Rogue and that she was crying. Sitting up, he moved closer to her, his face etched with concern.

"Rogue, chere, what's wrong?" His voice, though rough with sleep, had a softness to it.

"Remy," Rogue whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear her. "How did we get like this?"

Remy was stumped. He hadn't expected that. "Anna…"

"Is this all we're ever gonna get? Stolen nights? Living off old memories?" She sounded so hurt, so in pain that it virtually stabbed Remy in his heart. "I can't do this. I can't pretend that I'm not still in love with you. I don't think that feeling's ever gonna go away. I can't live my life loving you and not being with you."

Instinctively, Remy wrapped his arms around Rogue, pulling her close. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin a few seconds longer than usual. He tucked her head under his chin and cupped the side of her face lovingly. With her head resting in the crook of his neck, she continued to speak despite the tears that seemed to flow uncontrollably.

"I thought that we could do this, that I could do this. I keep telling myself that this is for the best. That we'd be happier this way. But I'm not, Remy. When I look at you, all I see is everything in my life that I'm missing," she spoke quietly. "When we were in the astral plane, I thought that it showed us the reality of our relationship. That it'd never work out. It always just one bad thing after another. But the reality of it is that I can't do this without you. I don't think there can ever be anybody else."

Remy let her words sink in. He knew exactly what Rogue was feeling – he had felt it himself for months. But he hadn't wanted to burden Rogue with his feelings, especially since they had finally called off their relationship for good after their time in the astral plane.

Back when they were sent to take down The Shadow King, they had been forcefully confronted by the horrors of their relationship – a tactic plotted by the King itself as a distraction to mess with their minds. Every bad and ugly moment – her powers, his past, Antarctica, Mystique, and Death – were thrown in their faces, forcing them to relive those memories against their will. While the ploy was unsuccessful in slowing them down, it did, however, had a damaging effect on their relationship. It made them recognize the comforting lies from the painful truth: that it had never worked out for them and probably never will. It had hurt for them to articulate those words aloud but neither could deny it. Still, Remy found it hard to let her go but Mystique's words from years ago kept biting at him: Do you love Rogue enough to let her have a chance of real happiness? (1)For so long, he had tried to ignore those very words, burying it somewhere deep inside him he couldn't reach. He didn't want to believe what he already knew – that Mystique was right. He couldn't keep holding Rogue back. She deserved a real shot of happiness, a life-long, unadulterated happiness. With him, it seemed like it was just a minute of happiness a lifetime of dysfunctionality.

And so he had let her go.

"It's unfair, huh?" he spoke now, running his fingers through her hair. His voice was low. "Whether we're together or apart, we're still miserable."

"What do we do, Remy?"

He took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "I… I don't know,chere."

October 2026

The man leaned against the railing of the balcony. Up ahead, a skeleton of metal projected high in the sky, gloriously illuminating the clear dark sky of the night. From here, he could see the sea of people along the streets, engaged in their own personal endeavours. He imagined himself as one of them, just a normal man with a normal life, in a city marked by rows of houses and shops, the sidewalks and cobblestones flowing imperceptibly together. The exquisite architecture seized him.

Paris was beautiful.

"Hey." A soft voice broke him out of his reverie. He felt a pair of arms encircling his lean waist. "Isn't this just perfect, Remy?" she whispered, her head leaning against his back.

He smiled. He turned around to face her, holding her in his arms. "You like it, chere?"

She nodded, her smile lighting up her whole face. "I think the baby likes it too." Gently, she grabbed his hand and placed it on the bump below her breasts. Remy could feel the soft kicks under his palm.

He felt something in him move.

He removed his hand and cupped her face, softly caressing her cheeks. His gaze lingered in her eyes. It wasn't the usual green orbs he was used to. Her jet black hair was a great contrast to the white streak that he loved running his fingers through. And her tanned skin was darker than the milky-white one he had spent so many nights exploring.

But it was enough.

(1) From X-Men #182

I'm sorry, please don't kill me! I wanted to go with something a little different since I guess it started to sound quite similar to my first fic? Also, apologies if the writing started to get lazy towards the end, I was rushed for time (either I put it out now or I have to wait another few months because school is starting again. Bummer). But I would love to hear what you guys think happened in that 9-year gap. Did Rogue and Remy give it another try but failed? Did nothing happen that night? Did something happen to Rogue? Comment in the reviews! Who knows, I might have another chapter filling in the gap or have an alternate ending