Author's Note: This will probably not make sense, even if you have read my fic "Light Becomes Darkness." It's a snippet of a probably-scenario that may or may not be included in a future chapter. The current chapter and I are fighting. It seems to think that the writer's strike applies to fanfiction. Consider this my peace offering... and not a very good one at that. But anyways, onto the real explanation.

Here's the deal--Remy's going to seem OOC because he's in pain. His mutation is just getting ready to bump itself up to a new and entirely frustrating level, so that's the whole darkness-inner-black-hole thing. The light thing with Rogue is similar--she's on the verge of a change in her mutation as well. It happens to be worse when she's around Remy... wonder what that's about. smirks As far as the whole Rogue-rejects-Remy thing, let's just say that Rogue and Remy got together at an earlier point, but Rogue broke it off. She hated the way her inability to touch him hurt him and couldn't stand her own disappointment about it.

For those of you who have no idea about "Light Becomes Darkness"... let's just say our favorite couple have switched powers.

I like the black hole imagery. But that's about it, for this piece. Maybe I need to lay off the Muse...

Dedicated to everyone else who had a snowy Valentine's Day (or Single's Awareness Day, or Black Thursday, whatever you prefer to call it)

Snow, on Valentine's Day.

The swirl of red and pink had been abruptly suspended by the flow and float of a thousand snowflakes on the wind. In Rogue's estimation, this was an infinite improvement--the foot of white stuff covering the front lawn at six in the morning, glittering in the pools of gold cast by the landscaping lights, meant that school was cancelled--an entire day's preservation from the idiocy of moon-eyed, love-struck teenagers.

Well, maybe notcomplete preservation--there was an abundance of hormones inside the Institute as well as outside of it.

Still, it wasn't anything that she was particularly planning on partaking of. Her plans depended on just a nice, quiet snow-day. Maybe a good snowball hit upside the back of Scott's head… or Bobby's. That sounded about right. A cup of hot chocolate, a walk under the trees just to hear the fall of the amassing snow. The cool, stretched tiredness that came with an intense session in the Danger Room--after all, that was something that no one could escape, no matter what the holiday--a blanket, a pillow, a book.

It would feel good to be alone today. Restful, healing. The only quiet play of emotions would be in her own head, the only voice the quiet whispers of bird calls. She slipped from her bed quietly, careful not to wake her slumbering roommate. She smiled as she considered the likelihood of her roommate being disappointed by the thick covering of snow on the ground. Kitty thrived on holidays like this. She dressed quickly, eager to be gone from the confines of the building. As she stepped outside, the fat, fluffy flakes danced in a flurry of energy, cool fingers of wind touching her face, tugging gently on her hair. Her breath billowed away in clumsy, climbing clouds, drifting away to parts of the world she may never see. The cold was novel for a girl from Mississippi, used to humidity and blistering sun. The unfamiliar feel of flakes drifting across her bare face, catching in her eyelashes, still held the wondering surprise of texture and chill. She nearly laughed at the sensation, a bright, icy shining that sank through the skin.

Perhaps, had the dimly glowing landscape not transfixed her so, she might have noticed the soft step of the man who was little more than shadow. He wasn't so much dogging her steps as….maintaining a proper distance. At least, that was the way that he preferred to think of it. After all, to announce his presence would be to destroy the moment. There was something about her captivation that he was loathe to interrupt, one thing among many that he refused to steal from her. But if she ever chose to give him these moments…

But that was an impossibility, nothing more than a fantasy. A cruel one, at that, for all that it provoked him with the theoretical. "What if…" was becoming a sick mantra in his head, not at all helped by this constant surveillance that was always forcing her to the forefront of his mind. It was enough to make him hate himself, this constant repetition. She had rejected him once--once outwardly, boldly, but how many times subtly?--whether for his own sake or hers it didn't much matter. She had spoken of the light that had pulsed within her, stretched and frayed the edges of her sanity when she was around him…The light that threatened to consume and erase her entirely.

He sank into the base of a tree, watching her go. He had lost her, and now he was losing himself. The compressed blackness that seemed to run the length of his spine pulsed, pulling his nerves inwards with all the intensity of a black hole.

Not even light escapes…

He didn't even notice the soft crunching of her footsteps as, hours later, she made her return. He barely felt the soft, gloved fingers scrape the wind-burnt lines of his cheekbone, but the warmth, the life and light of her, registered as she sank down before him.

Mon Dieu, the light…let it escape this time…

His voice cracking and faltering, he protested: "T'ought y'preferred t'be alone on a day like dis."

She smiled softly, feeling some of the light and pain slip from under her skin. He shuddered, feeling the darkness contract. "There's an exception ta every rule. Bein' with you ain't like bein' with anyone else, Remy. Ah think it's better than bein' alone."