Author's Note:

I hope you enjoy this fanfic; it's my first X-men story, so I hope I can live up to the other wondrous fics that have come before mine.

It falls into the X-men timeline right after Gambit's blindness yet before he turns to Apocalypse. At least I hope it is...I was watching key points to make sure it fell into this place, but I may have missed something- please forgive me if this be the case.

And just to let you know, I do not own X-men in any way shape or form.

UPDATE 12/6/07- I have rewritten a portion of chapter one as I felt the dialogue was not what I wanted it to be and not as well thought out as I wanted it to be. I hope this rewrite increases your enjoyment.

Thank You.

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The cold, wicked wind beating upon all of those in attendance reflects his current flood of emotions. Still, his face remains stony, skin a combination of an intense pale and the red patches from the tears. Storm has offered to reveal the sun, to send a warm breeze their way, but he continues to refuse; keeps saying that it just wouldn't be right. And while the few words he has said have had an overdramatic twang, the others don't mind overlooking it, especially today; this one of those days a man should never have to witness.

Oh how he's tried to remain strong, tried to keep a grip on himself, but despite his best attempts, he's fooling no one. The spark in his red eyes had been stolen after the last time they met the green ones. Standing with a straight back and face directed towards the ground, the Cajun looks extremely uncomfortable in his formal attire, though the fact he's even here as all has surprised many (and cost Kurt $20 in a bet with Logan). After all, everyone knew that Remy LeBeau had died inside, and though he wishes it was, unfortunately, this is not his funeral.

And now, after all of the kind words have been shared, after the stories of happy times, they gather around the grave, heads bowed as Remy begins the shaky steps forward. His mind is devoid of any coherent thought, sorrow overlapping into every memories and mindset. Reaching forward, his ungloved hand traces the letters of the tombstone, as if his caresses will bring her back to him.

"Anna Marie" The grave reads, and below her formal name is where his fingertips run along the name he had known her by for so much longer…

"Rogue"

He knows the others are watching him, pitying him, and it sends a ripple of annoyance through him. Part of him longs to be alone here, to privately weep for the only woman he has ever fully, truly loved, yet at the same time, as soon as the mob leaves, that means this is over, that memories of Rogue will begin to fade away from their minds. Biting his lip as hard as possible, Remy allows his forehead to meet the cold stone. He closes his eyes to prevent any rebellious tears as he realizes this is truly it. Though he knows this, knows in his mind she's really gone, he still expects her gloved hand to rest upon his broad shoulder any moment, just as it always had before after a moment of lamenting. She would speak in a comforting tone in that sweet voice of hers, and he would turn to see her face, sharing his own consolation in exchange. But this time, the voice is hardly feminine.

"Gambit," comes the soft voice of Scott Summers. The male's hand rests upon the same shoulder, except hardly mimicking her gentle touch. "I'm so sorry…" Obviously baffled, the leader clears his throat and continues, "I know this has to be rough for you and I hope you know we don't expect you to be back out on the field tomorrow or even in a couple of weeks. We're all going to be here for you, all ready and willing to talk." A slight smile meant only to comfort trickles to his face, "Especially me. I understand how much this hurts, after everything that happened with Jean, I know how-"

"Stop right dere." Remy utters, shrugging away the hand as he turns. The red eyes have opened as fear of tears has ceased, lifted lids revealing a death glare. Scott's attempt at comforting has backfired. "Dere is no way dis anyt'ing like you and Jean." His rage boils, his mind races, recalling so many differences in the two situations. "You 'ave no idea how it hurts- don' even start with dat."

"Of course I do. I know how hard it is to let go, how much you wish you could go back and warn her, change everything before it happens. I know the heartache, the way you wake up in the middle of the night, convince yourself it was just a terrible dream only to realize your alone in the room."

"Alone in da room? How you know what dat like?" Remy shakes his head as a bitter chuckle leaves his lips, "Unlike you, I stayed loyal to my gal…I don' 'ave no Ice Queen on da side I replace 'er wit'."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"What? Ya t'ink no one noticed? Ya t'ink everyone 'ere blind? Everyone know you two foolin' around long before Jean died. I mean anyone in you place do da same. Da minute you loose a bit control over you wife, turning to a blonde slut to keep you entertained; all right an' good! "

Conversation between the mourners has been killed by the raising of the Cajun's sarcastic voice. As soft gasps and shocked expressions appear at these words, Emma Frost fumes. She never attempted to hide her lack of interest in this funeral to begin with, and now that she's been insulted, her enthusiasm has dwindled even more. The expression of fury upon her pale face causes Kurt to lean towards Logan once more, betting him that Gambit is about to suffer the telepath's wrath.

"You've really gone too far Gambit…" Scott says sternly.

"Maybe you just don like everyone knowin' bad t'ings 'bout Cyclops." Remy's lost himself in these words, lost himself in a topic that furthers himself from the current situation, the current loss he still deals with; arguing forces his mind away from the memories. "Maybe you just hopin' everyone forget 'bout you cheating an' all!"

"Hypocrite!"

"Hypocrite?"

"Hypocrite!" Scott shouts again, hands flying to the air. "You're being a damn hypocrite!" As Remy's response is simply a puzzled look, he explains. "Here you are, with that infamous hypnotic charm of yours, seducing woman without blinking an eye…and more importantly, without even thinking of Rogue, and you're focusing on my affair? I think you don't want people knowing bad things about Gambit."

His expression goes blank a moment as the Cajun wasn't expecting focus to swerve back on him, "I told ya…I stayed loyal to 'er."

"Liar."

"We had our breaks," Remy begins, "Our relationship not so smooth really, we always had ups, downs, and breakups…"

"So just during the time you two were together you only had eyes for her? The moment one of you called it off you were hitting the town to find someone new?" The leader asks with a smirk.

"Don be puttin' words in my mouth. After all, you know 'bout dis sorta t'ing all too well." A smirk of his own slips over his lips. "Your love stays with one lady, but you gonna try your best to replace wit' any woman who could possibly fit da bill. An' when you do dat, all you left wit' is da physical satisfaction, not'ing real."

Emma continues to fume.

After a silent pause and the loss of his smirk, Scott finally asks, "Were you two on one of those "breakup" periods when she died?"

"No!"

"Did she even know that you loved her?"

"Yes! Everyone know I do! I don't know what you-"

"You didn't exactly show it Gambit," His voice has become as cool as the look on his girlfriend's face. "After all, you weren't even there to protect her. You were home, just bec-"

"Don't even say it!" A growl leaves Remy's lips as he gives into the urge to remove his weapon of choice from his suit pocket. Whipping his hand forward, three cards are revealed to hold the trademark pink glow. "Don't go dere! You know I why I couldn't be dere!" Emotion is streaked across his face, a combination of anger, pain, sadness, but most of all, desperation as he raises his hand to the air, as if preparing to throw. "You know I wish I had been dere!"

Scott offers no response, but reaches for his glasses, prepared to raise them at any moment, preparing for a physical battle, but the long overdue interruption in this altercation finally occurs. "Gentleman," The familiar, calm voice of Hank McCoy causes both faces to glance away from the intense focus on one another. Extending two of his blue, furry arms, he acts as a boundary between the two of them, as he attempts to return this funeral back to the peaceful, quiet day of respect it was originally planned to be. "These past days have been extremely rough on all of us and today has been a difficult day. Emotions tend to flare at such a time, and words are said that should not be. Obviously, there will need to be some discussion, but not today, not this day. Let us respect our teammate, our friend."

Scott's hand immediately lowers to his side, but Remy's hand still remains above him. Part of him wants to release those cards, toss them to the ground and remain; to die a dramatic death upon this grave. He would be with her then and honestly, he feels pretty dead already, death could be an easy escape from this hollowness.

But he can't die yet, he has matters he must attend to for Rogue, commitments he cannot and will not back out of. "As nice as dat sound Hank, no need for discussion. Dis chat be quite enough for me, as it is time I go." Turning before anyone says anything more to him, he glances to the grave once more, a sad smile slipping over his face. Reaching forward, he places a hand to letters once more, pressing against the "R" hard enough to leave a brief imprint in his skin. "Gambit loves you, chere." He inaudibly whispers, biting his lip once more. Memories flood his mind in this pause, images of Anna he's unwilling to store away. He's also unwilling to say goodbye to her, he simply cannot let go, and that's what's destroying him the most.

Without turning, he shares his decision with his teammates, the decision he has struggled with and contemplated greatly; it both pains him and relieves him to finally say it. "Gambit no longer an X-man..." He utters softly, "I can't be 'ere anymore…" Eyes flutter once more with the shake of his head, looking for words he cannot find, but when he realizes his attempts are pointless, he simply moves forward, feeling he cannot choke out the right sort of goodbye.

"Gambit!"

He hears the codename ring out in many different voices, but dares not to look back. Even with those switching to "Remy" and adding a "Wait!" or "Don't!", he pushes himself forward, though it hurts terribly. Walking towards the Mansion to gather his packed things, he thinks about the choice he made, if leaving those he knows and has shared years of his life with is really worthwhile. But there is really no other option at this point; even in death, Rogue always comes before anyone else. After all, he made her a promise which in turn is a promise to himself, and like his reactions to other situations he has gotten himself into the past, he has no intentions of backing out. Though he had always hoped he'd have her to hold onto rather than just a task for her, he has to do this. Whether it will help with his sorrows or just increase them, he doesn't know, but at this point it doesn't really matter; a promise is a promise.