The sun set in a blaze of glory, setting the Western sky aglow. It was unnaturally warm for this time of year, not that BellaDonna minded. The house of the Unified Guilds absorbed warmth the way her heart no longer did; today, as well as many days past, she was thinking on her failed marriage to one, Remy LeBeau. It had been a long time since she'd thought about the rakish man who had stolen her heart as a girl. It was only he that could save them now.

As much as she loathed doing it, BellaDonna swallowed her pride and reached out to the man who was once her very best friend. Her heart pounded as she left a message with a cheery young woman who promised to pass the message right along. Her childhood home was being raided and her friends massacred by those who thought that a woman was unfit to rule the Unified Assassin and Thieves Guild. With the disasters that had decimated New Orleans, she had no choice but to run to him as she always done in the past.

Now, their fate rested solely on him. Was he man enough to help her? Was she woman enough to let him? All that anyone could do now was pray.

Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit, was just coming back into the mansion for the night. It was early, and he'd promised Logan he'd go to Harry's, but he didn't feel up to drinking and pool tonight. That, of course, got the Canadian's suspicions raised. But Gambit had a reputation to uphold and couldn't very well admit to Wolverine that his thoughts were occupied by a woman he had tried not to think of for years.

As he made his way out of the mansion's atrium and started up the stairs, one of the female students came up behind him. "Mr. LeBeau?" Remy stopped one hand on the rail, and his right foot on a step. He turned to face the cheery girl. She looked like one of the 'in-crowd', her blonde hair pulled into a high pony tail and a huge grin on her face. Most of the girls swooned after him or Scott (although he had to admit, he was far better looking than the tightwad Summers). He took the occasional girl to bed, usually the ones that separated themselves from the rest, the rebels.

Remy smiled at her and came back to stand on the landing just before the stairs. "Wha' can Gambit be doin' for y' t'day?" He ran a hand through his brown hair which was in a state of perpetual unruliness and hung shaggy, almost down to his eyes. His eyes swept over her pretty face, they were another of his features that girls liked; his eyes were like no other man's, they were exotic, completely black with red irises. For some reason, the mutation that had kept him at arm's length as a child made him irresistible in adulthood.

The girl smiled, it looked like she might swoon right there just because he was talking to her. Remy hoped that didn't happen, he hated having to explain to Hank why girls kept fainting at the sight of him. Thankfully, she didn't; instead, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a little note. "A lady called for you," She said sweetly. That peaked Gambit's interest. Calls from ladies were always nice. "She said it was urgent." Remy took the piece of paper from the girl, and thanked her, giving a gentle smile for her good messenger service. The girl blushed profusely and mumbled something sounded like "You're welcome," just before she turned and scampered off.

Remy smiled and started back up the stairs. About halfway up, he opened the folded slip of paper and stopped dead in his tracks. The color drained from his face as he read the name of the mystery woman who had contacted him. After a few minutes, he continued up to his room. He closed the door behind him and sat on the bed, leaving the lights off. He stared at the folded paper in his hands, and then reached into his night stand, withdrawing a small cell phone. What did she want? Why contact him now? Was she ok? Only one way to find out. He quickly dialed the number, and waited for the ring.

One ring, then two...nobody seemed to be picking up downstairs. Belle sighed heavily, swinging herself off the bed. "Dis' is Belle," She said coolly. The crisp white linen pants she wore were slightly wrinkled from the day's use and she had discarded the matching jacket. She was not receiving callers at this point nor had she had any callers worth dressing up for in years; there was no fear in lounging around in her nice pants and tank top. "Can I 'elp y'?"

Remy listened as the phone rang, and sighed. No one was answering? Then why leave the message to contact her? He was about to hang up when the other line picked up. His breath hitched at the sound of her voice. She sounded older, sure, but still the same Belle he remembered from all those years ago. He remained silent for several moments, not knowing what to say. He finally decided on simplicity, "Belle, its Remy."

Panic rose in her throat; it'd been years since she had heard that voice. True, at the time they were married, his voice was still changing. He sounded like a man now, more like Jean Luc than ever before. "Bonjour, Remy," She said softly, "I trust dat de young lady Belle spoke t' gave y' de message den." She had been standing there for days like an idiot scared to death...no, it wasn't true, only a few moments had passed. She was using every ounce of strength she had to sound firm and calm even though her heart was breaking all over again. "How are y', chere?"

Remy, despite his best effort, a smile crept over his features as she lapsed into casual conversation. He felt a twist in his chest, and knew it wasn't the chili he had eaten earlier. He'd tried so hard not to think of the woman on the other end of the line, but somehow, a small flame in his heart had always stayed lit for her. He couldn't ever truly forget her. "Oui, got de message, Belle. Remy be doing jus' fine. How y' doin'?"

It physically ached to be talking to him like this; the phone was such a cold method of communication to her. She could hear his voice but he was hundreds of miles away in New York. She mentally chastised herself for feeling like a giddy schoolgirl while speaking to him. This wasn't the playground anymore; they were both powerful, successful adults...why would he still want his childhood sweetheart?

Swallowing, she sighed, "T'ings are bad here, chere. Dere are people here...dey wan' t' take de Guilds from Belle an' destroy everyt'ing we worked so hard t' achieve." The sorrow was evident in her voice, "Dere's no way dat we can hold dem on our own...we need y' chere." Her words came out in a rush, frantic to finish before he hung up or said no; he had left New Orleans with the intention of never returning. "I wouldn' ask y' if it weren' an emergency, chere. I need y'."

Remy sighed again, and mentally cursed. He'd sworn never to return to New Orleans. He'd meant it, every last word of it. But the sound in her voice, the desperation and the need, it drove a cold spike through his heart. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair again. "Belle, y' know Remy said he'd never go back dere." He had every intention of telling her no, the word was sitting on the tip of his tongue, but it never came out. Instead he found different words flowing all too easily from his heart straight off his tongue. "Tell me w'at happened. Who's dem?"

Praying actually paid off this time, Belle thought. She'd gotten back on her knees for this purpose...maybe the big man upstairs owed her a few favors after all. Although, she had promised him her soul for this little feat, "Dere's a rival guild from somewhere in de South, probably Missisip'." Sighing, she sat back on the bed, "Dey been killin' Assassins an' T'ieves bot' since six mont's ago. Kill one 'bout every few weeks at firs' but dey's out for blood now." It had started out as one murder; then the letters came. They were out for her, gunning for the territory that the Thieves and Assassins had shared since their ancestors came down from Acadia. "Dis' has t' end now before dey start spillin' innocent blood."

Remy's dark eyes narrowed as he listened. He'd turned his back on them all, sure, but that was still his home, his territory. And now some other guild was trying to muscle their way in on it. And worse, they threatened his Belle. He nearly choked, 'his Belle'? It'd been a long time since he'd thought of her as his. But, he supposed, it was true in a way. What they'd had was special, it was magic, and it didn't seem to want to go away even though time and space parted them. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. "Wat' do y' wan' Remy to do, chere?" This was what it all came down to: What did she expect of him?

"I need y' t' come back ta N'Awlins, chere," It was a long shot, but she had to take it. "Help Belle fight dese guys, get dem out of de T'ieves and Assassin's lives." Once again God came into her mind; unfortunately, God was trumped by the memories that Remy and Belle had made together in their youth. Her virginity had been his, her life his, she'd been his since they met; now she was no one's but her own. But she needed him here again, now, and she wasn't above begging either, "I'll be in y' debt, chere." She had never before been in his debt; she avoided owing people favors. Owing favors tended to get people killed; Belle wouldn't take that risk for just anyone. "Anyt'ing y' ask."

Remy moved back onto the bed, and slumped down onto it. If it was for any other reason, he would've told her no, hung up the phone, block the number, and be done with it. But he could hear it in her voice again, the pleading. She was truly afraid, and not just for herself, for everyone in the Guild. As well she should be, she was their leader now, and they were her responsibility. He let his mind wander over the situation, thinking, planning. After another moment of thought he spoke again, "Alrigh', chere. Remy'll talk t' Xavier soon as I hang up de phone. Tell him I got t' go away f' a while. I'll catch de soonest plane I can."

Belle found herself smiling once again, "Dere's a charter flight t' N'Awlins piloted by y' old frien' Genard." Even with age, she was still the pushy bitch she always was, "I'll pick y' up at Terminal B at noon tomorrow. Be dere," She ordered. As much as she wanted and needed him here, she was still his commander and damned if he ever forgot it. Suddenly, her voice softened, "I meant it, chere. Dere's not'ing dat Belle wouldn' do f' y', she sincerely t'ank y for dis. From de bottom on my heart," Her voice was barely above a whisper now, "T'ank y'."

Remy smiled in spite of himself and laughed a little. She'd never change. The minute she had confirmation he was returning, she immediately slipped into bitch mode. It was refreshing, he'd missed it; he'd missed her. "I know, chere, I know. Don' worry 'bout a t'ing. Remy will be dere." He was silent for another moment, and then spoke, "I'll see y', Belle."

With the phone back in its cradle and the connection broken once again, Belle laid back on the bed. She loved him, goddamn it; oh...no wait, she had a pact with God to tone down the blasphemy. This wasn't really happening was it? Had she really pissed away her pride for one more ally on the battlefield? Then again, Remy was far more than just another ally. He was a fierce fighter and loyal to the core; she'd never have to watch her back. He'd watch hers and she'd always had his. Curling into a ball, she shut her eyes. She wouldn't sleep tonight, not with Remy on her mind. Sighing heavily, she stared up at the swirling plaster cast of the ceiling...she was about to become very familiar with it.

The loudspeaker announced several flight times, and departure statuses. Remy ignored it as much as possible; he was already in New Orleans, after all. He didn't need to know a flight status. He sat by the baggage claim in Terminal B, his two duffle bags by his side, waiting for Belle to pick him up. He ran a hand over his black pants, and looked down at the floor, his thoughts drifted back to how he'd gotten here.

As soon as he'd hung up the phone the night before, he left his room and called for Charles Xavier the owner of the mansion, and founder of the X-Men, whom Remy had been working with since…well, since his divorce from Belle five years ago. He'd met the older man in his office and was forced to go through the motions of trying to explain why he was leaving without giving too much away. He didn't think Xavier would be too thrilled that he was leaving them to go save a bunch of thieves and assassins, even if they had helped raise Remy. In the end, the older man agreed to let Remy go for the time being. He'd offered to set him up with a flight but Remy had declined as he already had plans. After that, he packed and went to bed, trying to enjoy the last night of peaceful sleep he'd get for a while.

The next morning, he'd caught the flight he was told to and unfortunately, was seated next to a very annoying teenage boy who had no respect for those around him. He'd played his death metal and hardcore music through his little tape player, but the volume was turned up so high, he may as well have not bothered with headphones at all. When Remy had asked him, politely, to turn it down, the teen had flipped him off. Remy was not a petty man but…alright, okay, he was a petty man. He opened his pack of peanuts, broke an extremely tiny piece off a peanut, and charged it. Then he flicked it at the music player; the spark caused a small explosion, which looked like nothing more than the player shorting out and blowing a circuit. Remy smiled at the silence and ignored the frustrated teen. The last leg of the flight had been blissfully peaceful compared to the first. Remy was loose and confident as the plane made its final descent.

When he'd arrived at New Orleans, Remy had stopped quickly at one of the airport gift shops and purchased five packs of playing cards. He tucked them into his brown trench coat, and walked to baggage claim where he now found himself waiting for what felt like hours. People moved around him trying to get to their own bags or reuniting with loved ones they hadn't seen in weeks, months, and, in a couple cases—like his and Belle's—years. He wore a pair of color changing contacts, so no one would notice his eyes. They itched, and he hoped Belle would arrive soon, so he could take the damned things out.

As predicted, Belladonna hadn't slept one wink last night. However, she was determined not to let Remy see that his return had caused to lose sleep. The man was cocky enough as it was; she didn't want to give him this leverage as well. The morning had been spent preparing for his arrival; the house had been aired and cleaned top to bottom. In an attempt to get him to make this a simple business trip, she moved out of the room they had shared during their brief marriage. She couldn't bear it if he heckled her for holding onto to dreams that were long dead.

She had chosen to wear her newest business suit to pick him up; it was a light blue color that brought out the deep aquamarine color of her eyes. Her hair, as always, was flawlessly done; not one strand was out of place in the French twist she had accomplished. Genard had told her the flight would be in by noon and so, she left the house at half past eleven. It would put her there a few minutes after twelve, long enough for Remy to stew a bit before she had to see him. If he infuriated her, maybe she would be able to keep her hands to herself.

Today, she took the BMW out. It suited her best of all the cars that the Thieves and Assassins owned. The car was a deep navy blue with crème leather interior, tinted windows, fully loaded; it screamed sophistication and style...much like la BellaDonna herself. Pulling up alongside the terminal, she rolled down the window, "Belle's limo service, git' y' ass in de car." What she didn't want to tell him was that there could be snipers trained on them as they spoke. She wasn't willing to lose him like that; better for him to be alive and royally pissed off than dead and gone. "C'mon, Belle ain' got all day!"

Remy was getting very angry. She had asked him here, asked him to break an oath to never return, and then she had the nerve to be late? Didn't she know he had every right to not even show up? His eyes narrowed a bit, but widened when he saw the BMW pull up. It was a very nice car. He got up and walked to it, admiring it. When the window rolled down, he was ready to engage in small talk with whoever owned this beautiful machine. Belle's voice floated to his ears, and his eyes narrowed again. He walked back to his stuff, and stopped. Why should he hurry up when she was late?

Turning back to the car, Remy plopped down on one of his duffels, and crossed his arms over his chest; a none-too-pleased look played on his face. "Oh, I didn' mean t' make y' wait all day at de airport while I lounged around in de terminal." His voiced dripped with sarcasm. "Oh dat's right, I didn'," He pointed a finger accusingly at the beautiful woman in the car, "Y' made Remywait." He had to keep being upset with her. If he didn't he'd notice how beautiful she was looking today, he wouldn't throw himself at her then and there. He looked around, and took on a lounging attitude. "B'sides, it's a nice day out. I t'ink I'll go ahead and enjoy it a bit." He let a smug smirk spread across his face. "Be a terrible shame t' let dis' beautiful day go t' waste wit'out enjoying it a little. You should try it sometime."

Shit, shit, shit, Remy, this was not the time to get into a pissing contest! They were at war; she was taking a heavy personal risk coming here to get him. For all she knew, the phones were tapped and they standing here in mortal danger. They could both be mincemeat in a matter of minutes. Sighing, she killed the engine and got out of the car. "I almost t'ought I missed y', chere," She snapped, "Den' I forgot w'at a royal pain in de ass y' are." Storming over to the curb, she picked up both duffel bags and threw them across the seat. "Dere!" She threw her arms up. She barely noticed the man lumbering behind her.

Grasping her wrists, the man pushed her back against the car, "Well, fancy meeting you here, darling," He said, his icy voice dripping with venom. "It must be my lucky day." Belle was strong but at nearly six feet seven, two hundred seventy pounds of pure muscle, she didn't stand a chance. His head was shaved and gleaming in the strong Louisiana sun. Leaning down over her, he smiled as she struggled to fight him off, "After I take over this damn guild, I'm gunna show you what it is to be a woman." The laugh that rumbled from his chest held no mirth, "When you ain't pregnant you'll be cleaning my floors with your tongue." He jammed his fingers through her hair. His eyes turned to the other man, "I don't think we've met." He wasn't letting Belle go, but he loosened his grip slightly, "Bruno Gotti, Master of the Destroyers Guild, at your service."

Remy cocked an eyebrow when Bruno made his rather...rough appearance. He watched the display, and for a moment, he thought Belle could handle it. Her body language told him all he needed to know. After all these years, he could still read her like a book. Remy stood from where he was sitting, and the brute of a man turned to introduce himself. "Remy LeBeau. I'd say it's a pleasure, but your breath ruins it for me." He smirked at the man then narrowed his eyes. "You wan'ta be gettin' your hands off de woman?" The look in Remy's eyes said all that needed to be said: hands off, or they'll come off.

That little bit of space was all Belle needed to break free. His strong grip had left black and green bruises against her pale skin and, as Remy said, his breath smelled of stale cigars and cheap liquor. Power welled in her veins as she sent a blast of energy through him, "Get de fuck off!" He went toppling down like a ton of bricks but he wasn't down long. His eyes were ablaze with fury and. for once, it wasn't all directed at her. Her stiletto heels were a pain to drive in, but when she kicked him, the heel struck him across the face; blood welled where she ripped his face open.

Cursing heavily, he made a swipe at her but she was too fast, once again. Standing once more, he growled, "We'll settle this out fair and square, bitch." The warm crimson blood trickled into his mouth and he swallowed almost hungrily. "I'll enjoy making you suffer, forever." Without another word he turned and disappeared from whence he came. It had only just begun.

Remy nearly laughed when the man hit the ground. "Don' say I didn' warn y'. But do y' listen to ol' Remy? Non, 'course not." He then enjoyed the show of Belle soundly showing the bigger man why you could look but not touch.

As Bruno made his getaway, Remy turned back to Belle. He nearly winced when he saw the bruises. On instinct he walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He inspected her a bit to make sure she was still fully intact. His voice was soft and quiet, completely different than it had been when they had their spat, "Y' okay, chere?" The worry in his eyes was evident, even though he wore contacts to counteract the black on red; the sentiment also drenched his words. He was staring into her eyes, and had to physically resist the urge to kiss her senseless. Damn this insufferable woman and her charms.

For a moment she thought he would kiss her and in that same moment, she wanted it more than anything ever before. But the error in judgment passed with the appearance of airport security; she was parked in the no parking zone and she had been engaged in a pretty showy fight. It was time to get the hell out of dodge.

Sidling away from him, she felt a blush creeping over her cheeks, "Fine, chere." She said softly, "De man's bark is a lot worse den his bite." He had eyewitness testimony now as to why she needed his help; the man was a bona fide giant. Not only that, he wanted to make BellaDonna his personal whore and was willing to take down an entire community to do it. "C'mon, chere, I don' need a ticket t' made dis' day truly perfect." They could talk on the way home, it was a pretty lengthy drive...and right now, she just wanted to get the hell out of here.

Remy suppressed the hurt as when she pulled away form him. He let his arms slowly drop back to his sides and looked at her for a moment as she spoke. He was watching her, making sure she really was as 'fine' as she said she was. When he was satisfied that she was truly all right, he nodded and motioned to the lovely car. "Lead de way, chere." He had no idea it had gotten this bad. She'd said this rival guild wanted to hurt her, was out to get her and their family but she'd neglected to mention the whole turning her into his personal whore part. That made Remy's blood boil. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, pulling the contacts out, and let them fall to the ground, exposing his black and red eyes once more. He opened the car door and sat down in the passenger seat, waiting for her to get going. He felt bad his little temper tantrum—though justified— had almost cost Belle her life. He'd never let that happen again, that was a promise he would not break.

Driving would make it feel better, it always did. When she drove, she had power over a machine that could be beautiful and a killer all at the same time...much like herself. Swallowing, she slipped into the driver's seat and threw it out of park. For several minutes she said nothing; at this time in the afternoon the roads were less clogged. More people were out walking, biking, and enjoying the nice weather. To the happy pedestrians, there was no danger...if the Destroyers moved in, there might never be a day like this again when the children played stick ball in the street, the elderly played chess in the park and the young lovers picnicked under the shady willow trees. "I'm sorry dat I was short wit' y' when I arrived, chere," She said finally, "I was 'fraid dat somet'ing like dis' would 'appen. Bruno likes Belle more den she likes him an' would love t' settle dis' in de bedroom instead of de battlefield...even t'ough Belle's said 'non' a t'ousand times."

Remy looked over at her, and nodded. "No need t' apologize, chere. Remy be de one who should apologize t' y'." He shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair. "I was pissed at y' f being late and den telling me to hurry up. I forgot you said dat you was in trouble. If I had listened to y', Bruno never would gotten de chance to do that." He reached a hand over and placed it on her hand that was grasping the clutch. He squeezed it reassuringly for a moment as he kept looking at her. "I promise y' dis, Belle, I won' let him get de chance to do that again. Next time I see him, he's gunna get to know jus' who Remy LeBeau is. I guarantee dat."

If Belle were more of a sentimental woman, she would've swooned at the feeling of his hand on hers and his promise to protect her. But she knew Remy LeBeau...probably better than he knew himself. He would've protected any woman that was in trouble and Belle was no exception to that rule. Still, a soft smile played over her face and she looked over at him briefly, "Dat's sweet of y', chere. T'anks for everyt'ing," She meant it with her whole heart.

The countryside rushed by, bringing him past the reconstructed face of New Orleans to the city slums where they had grown up. Even though she had picked him up at noon, the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, casting a rosy glow over the landscape. Belle abandoned the highway for the back roads they'd spent countless years walking, running, and playing in, on, and around. Maybe it was cruel of her to flaunt this in front of him; then again, a little trip down memory lane never hurt anyone. It wasn't that she wanted him to remember what they had...but, it was nice to take a look at what had happened in the past. Her years with Remy had been the happiest of her life.

Finally, she turned down the avenue where the Assassin—now the Thieves and Assassins—property stood. The house hadn't changed a bit; it was chestnut brown in color, no point in painting a house in New Orleans where the paint was weathered off after one season. Plants grew thick and heavy, spreading their fragrance into the air and giving the area a drugged, sleepy feeling. The black iron fence receded to admit the car before closing back off. The garage was new, the wood still light and fresh; it held four cars and had a space for the gardening equipment. Some things had changed, of course, neighbors had come and gone, loved ones lived and died, but the memories still remained.

Belle turned to him and smiled, "Welcome home, chere."

Remy had sat quietly while she took the detour through the old neighborhood. He didn't want to remember this. There were reasons he left and seeing the old sights brought back memories of those reasons. Still, he couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face as he saw the old men playing chess and the families out for a quiet stroll. Belle didn't have to tell him; he knew that if Bruno and his Destroyers took over, this would all end. The peace would be gone, and chaos would smolder in its wake. Remy wouldn't let that happen, he couldn't.

As they pulled up to the house, he couldn't help the big grin on his face. It hadn't changed a bit. Even in its unkempt state, it was a thing of beauty. It was a classic old New Orleans mansion; it could have walls missing and be half burnt to the ground, and it would still be beautiful to him. He looked back at Belle and his smile faltered. No, this wasn't home. His home was in New York with the X-Men. He had a lot of happy memories here but it hadn't been his home for years…and wouldn't be again.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to vocalize that thought. He could only nod and force a smile. "T'anks, chere, its good t' be back." It wasn't really a lie, really. It truly was good to be back; he could feel the old feelings resurfacing again. It was wonderful but it also painful at the same time. He wondered how the others would take his return. He knew quite a few hadn't been pleased when he left and would likely feel betrayed. As an afterthought, he wondered how many were still alive. He opened the car door and got out, grabbing his bags. "Who's still around?" It was a painful question, but he needed to know. No matter the fact that he left, they had all been his friends, no...his family, at one time.

It was a painful subject to be bringing up so soon. "Well, dere's Genard y' know, Mercy...I think y' remember y' sister in law. And dere's a lot of T'ieves dat are new t' de Guild." The truth of the matter was the natural disasters, a woman leading the guild, constant fighting, and bloodshed had made some of the older members leave. There was a lot of new blood, which greatly helped the inbreeding problem, but didn't do anything to boost Belle's confidence in her brood. "Dey're young, chere but I got de best trainin' dem."

"A'course I remember Genard," He smiled and started for the door, before stopping and turning back to face her. Worry creased his brow. "New blood? None of dem are going to try anything, are dey? I know how de new ones can be, wantin' t' take on de top dog and prove dey're wort'." No one could deny it. When new guys were involved, they wanted to rise through the ranks quickly. And seeing as most of them probably wouldn't know him, they might think to get in good by picking on him. If that happened, they were in for a huge surprise.

Striding past him, she pushed open the back door, "Belle ain' stupid, Remy." She said coolly, "An' I bin' runnin' dis guild for a long time." She tossed her bleach blonde hair that had been mussed by Bruno, although the wispy pieces framing her face somehow suited her. "I gave y' Jean Luc's old room. Mine's across de hall, if y' need me." Quietly, she closed the door behind him, "I'll give y' a chance to settle in an' make some dinner. Welcome home, again," She said softly before disappearing down the hall towards the kitchen. She'd have to feed him, it was the least she could do. Besides, she needed a little time away from Remy...one look at him and her hormones were blazing. She just needed a little time away from him, maybe a little wine, to wind down. And that's just what she intended to do.

Remy sighed as the door closed, and leaned his back against it. He closed his eyes. Damn that woman! One look at her and he wanted to pick her up, throw her on the bed, and show her just how much he'd missed her in about twenty different positions over the course of the next week. He wanted to watch her writhe beneath him; he wanted his name on her lips in the throes of passion again. But he couldn't do that. For all he knew, she'd moved on, gotten a new man, and wanted nothing to do with him other than business.

Sighing, Remy opened his eyes again and looked around the room. It was just like he remembered, Jean Luc's room, the bed, the dresser, the closet. It looked like it was ready for the old occupant to come back at any moment. It made Remy sad, remembering the man. He pushed thoughts of him from his mind before they got any farther than that. He walked over to the bed and tossed his bags down on it. He opened one bag and pulled out the small silver cylinder that was his collapsible bow staff. His fingers ran over his combat suit and he smiled. Time to get down to business.

Hello everyone! And welcome to the Long Way home written jointly by me, Marina Black (my other stories are under the username Marina Black1) and my good friend James Brummett.

Please read and review! All types of reviews are welcome, don't be afraid to open up :D