Don't own any of the characters here, obviously. And please be gentle with me, guys, I've never written a Romy before all my life, so don't be too harsh on me.

Twenty one-year-old Remy LeBeau casually sauntered down the streets of New York alone, humming a tune under his breath as he cheerfully swung the long stick he always carried with him. From several sides of the street, people cast him somewhat curious glances, clearly taken aback by his peculiar garments, but Remy payed them no attention whatsoever. Attention like this was something he was already well-acquainted with; he cared nothing for stares and glances.

He left the rather busy pavements on the side of the street, and walked into a dark, unobtrusive alley situated between two old, worn-down buildings. People seldom dared to venture here, for dark and silent alleys in this city were generally associated with criminal activity. As far as he could see or hear, he was alone. Good. That is, until his very keen ears detected the softest sound of someone breathing in the dark.

"Who's there?" he called out at once, his voice echoing strangely in the chilly, damp air. His hands instinctively flew down to the back pocket of his long black trousers, his fingers feeling the smooth, rectangular shape of a card. His ideal weapon, should danger strike. Alone, they might be flimsy and of no use, but, combined with his very useful abilities…

From not-so-far-off, someone could be heard rising swiftly, his or her footsteps indicating an attempt to flee on the spot.

"Gotcha now!" Remy suddenly burst out, lunging forward, arms outstretched. "Show yourself!"

"Get your hands off me!" the person shrieked with outrage, as Remy's strong hands closed around an arm. Judging by the voice, the person was clearly female. "Get off, before I resort to my own methods to make you leave off!"

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Remy raised his brown eyes with undisguised surprise, as the angry person roughly shook his hands off, rising to her feet with obvious rage. This person was tall and slender, and could almost be considered beautiful in a rather unusual way, with cold, dark eyes and brown shoulder-length hair ornamented with a streak of white at the temple. Even her tightly-compressed lips, painted with a very dark shade, might be seen as rather attractive and kissable to most men. She seemed rather familiar; Remy fought for recollection, and remembered just in time that he had met her before, in rather unusual circumstances.

"You?" he exclaimed, staring as though he had never seen a girl before.

"Do I know you?" she snapped.

"Maybe you don't know me, but I do know you," came the flippant reply. "Or why don't you just take a closer look at me?" He moved a little to the side, so that the light fell more distinctly onto his face.

The girl eyed him closely, distrust written entirely on her face. Remy stood still, trying his hardest to disguise a smile of amusement. It was evident she recognized him; her face paled, and she took a step backwards involuntarily.

"You?" she gaped, her jaw dropping. "Honestly, what on earth are you doing here, Remy LeBeau?"

"Remy will do," the young man smirked. "Don't worry too much about observing formalities here."

"What do you want with me, then?" she snapped fiercely. If she felt any fear or anxiety, she gave no signs of it. "Don't you get the wrong message across! If you've come here to…"

"Oh, don't you worry! Remy LeBeau's too good for that," he smirked, aggravatingly. "But you see, Rogue, I understand your problems well enough, even if you yourself don't. In that sense, you and me, we're not too different after all."

"Sure, thief!"

Pretending not to hear the statement, Remy continued, "I know the reason behind the peculiar…incidents you've been facing. I know now how you're forced to always keep yourself covered up so you don't make contact with bare skin. And I know as well how you're obviously trying to run away, to hide from the truth. But you can't keep this up forever. Now, if you'll just come along nicely with me, I can offer you some help before half of New York comes down on you."

"Liar! Why should I trust you?" Rogue demanded.

"Why should you not trust me?"

"Because I have no reason to believe you!" Rogue's answer was more of a shout than anything else.

"Neither do you have reason to mistrust me," Remy hit back sensibly.

Angrily, Rogue pulled her arm away forcefully, and glared at him fiercely enough to burn a hole right through him. But Remy made no signs of backing away. He simply held his ground, returning her glare with a calm, patient gaze.

"You know you can absorb memories," he said then. "And since you don't trust me, then why don't you just touch me and absorb my memories? Go on!"

He pushed his face closer to hers, taking her bare right wrist and moving it upwards towards his face. For a moment, Rogue looked about ready to do anything, then she wavered and pulled her wrist away.

"Like I want your memories in my mind," she sneered.

"Come along, then," Remy said coaxingly. "All you have to do is come along to my place with me, and I'll show you how to turn your supposed curse into a gift. And, if you want, I'll swear by anything you want that I won't lay a finger on you again without your will."

Silently, Rogue scrutinized his face, trying to detect signs of untruth or lies in it. But his face, despite still wearing the annoying smirk, was honest and open enough; Rogue was an astute judge of character, and could see enough in his visage to know that he was undoubtedly telling the truth. The first time she had met him, he had been pick-pocketing someone, she recollected vividly. Nevertheless, it was hardly sufficient, just calling him a thief, for Rogue knew that Remy was one man with endless personalities; one could never describe him in a typically simple manner. There were just way too many sides to him for one to give him a proper adjective. In a rather bizarre and peculiar way, Rogue supposed he might even be considered somewhat honest at times. Hating him, she realized, was not quite that easy after all; one could hardly hate a man like him without a mighty strong reason, annoying and enigmatic though he could be. She was not too sure about how he intended to get about helping her, but, well, at any rate, staying temporarily with him would probably be better than living alone on the streets and alleys. Such a life was clearly never meant for one such as her. And if Remy broke his word and did attempt anything unwanted, she wasn't without her own powers.

"Well?" Remy prompted.

"If you do happen to do anything against my will, mark my words," she warned, "I guarantee I will…"

"Oh, forget it," Remy said amiably enough. "I've got enough on my back to worry about without getting into trouble with such a feral girl! You have my word; all I want to do is…help you out."

Help me…is it possible, after everything which has happened? Can I trust him? How do I know he…

Here, Remy let out a sign of mock exasperation and annoyance. Swinging his stick over his shoulder, he uttered, with a tone of apparent disappointment, "Well, it looks like the answer's no. So, I think I'll just…"

"Fine. It's a deal," Rogue said, without much enthusiasm.

"Come on, then." Remy turned his back on her, and begin walking out of the alley, never once looking back at her.

Silently, Rogue followed him out without a word.

Well, like it guys??? Please review and tell me what you think!!! (and be gentle!!!) Thank you!!! I've love to get more than 5 reviews for this at least!!!