Hi. Thanks for giving this story a chance - I'm going to try and work on it till the end. Mind my French, I had to use an online translator and dig up random phrases I remembered from my last trip to Paris - I've only taken Spanish and German classes. :)
Review if you can!

Chapter One

(1)

"Bonsoir," he said, smooth as silk, "you must be Rogue."

There was a beat of silence before she nodded politely. "You must be Gambit."

Gambit's lips curved into a perfect smile. "You've heard many things about me, then, chere?"

Rogue offered a half-shrug. Back at the mansion, she often heard herself described as timid or shy—just generally quiet. She didn't know why Gambit was interested in her. He seemed like the type of guy who'd usually be surrounded by hoards of proud, confident supermodels.

"Well, everything you've heard is true," Gambit assured her, his grin widening.

She stared at him speechlessly, and his smile was contaminated with smugness.

"So you really have twenty-seven different types of STDs?" Rogue blurted, promptly wiping the smirk off the Cajun's face. She clamped her mouth shut immediately, blushing a furious shade of red. Timid, quiet, shy, she thought. Timid, quiet, shy.

Gambit burst into laughter. Startled, Rogue nearly fell from her seat. When Gambit's laughter finally faded, he asked gently, "What are you doing here, mon ami?"

"I'm not your friend," she snapped. "And why wouldn't I be here? I'm legal."

There. She'd done it again, broke through the 'introverted' label she wore. It felt good.

"Well, you don't seem like kind of girl who would go to a bar called Rainbow. It sounds like the name of a gay club, doesn't it?"

The bartender glared at him, but Rogue chuckled. "I guess so," she told Gambit. "But I like this place. I overheard Logan talking about it the other day."

Gambit let out a low whistle. "You know Wolverine?"

" 'Course," she said. "He's like… he's like an older brother to me."

He made a noise of disbelief. "Merde. If I were someone else, I'd be scared shitless."

Rogue laughed again. Gambit, she decided, wasn't bad at all. "Amen, darlin'." Her bare arm grazed his, and he blinked in surprise at the contact.

"I thought you were the fille with the poisonous touch," He said casually, fingers dancing softly up her arm like a spider. Strangely enough, she didn't even flinch. "Shouldn't I be in a coma by now?"

"I took the Cure," she told him vaguely. She watched, perplexed, as his hand left her skin and his arm dropped limply to his side.

"You know," Gambit said slowly, "some people say the Cure doesn't really work. It wears off over time, they say."

Rogue shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by his warning. "Well, when that happens, I'll find a way to take it again."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course."

Gambit stood up abruptly from his barstool, grabbing his drink. "Well then, Rogue, au revoir and bonne chance." He sounded cold.

She was puzzled. "Wait—where are you going?"

"A place where there are people who actually enjoy being themselves," he said curtly, turning on his heel to walk away.

His retort hit a sore spot. "No, wait, Gambit!"

He glanced over his shoulder slightly. "Oui?"

Rogue sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, wondering why she was apologizing to a guy she'd just met. "I guess that was the wrong thing to say."

There was silence. Then—

Cheerfully, Gambit smiled and sat back down beside her. "Bon," he said, clanking his sharp whiskey against her stale, flat beer. He tilted his head back and drank.

Rogue stared at him, motionless.

"Hmm?" Gambit wiped his mouth and arched his brows. "What's wrong?"

"'What's wrong'?" Rogue repeated incredulously. "Sugar, you got pissed and almost left, and now you're acting like nothing happened."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Well, do you want me to explain myself and start talking about the hardships of my past, ma chere? We barely know each other."

Rogue was quiet.

"I thought so." He leaned back, gestured for the bartender to get him another drink, and ran a hand through his already-ruffled brown hair. His red-black eyes flashed as he smiled.

"Actually…" Rogue drawled, "I'd love to hear you talk about yourself. As long as you don't randomly add in French words while you do, that is."

Gambit frowned. "Vous n'aimez pas mon français?"

"No, I like your French," Rogue rolled her eyes, unimpressed, "but it gets on my nerves. I took French classes before, you know, and my teacher was this evil spitting woman with a forked tongue."

"I didn't know Toad's mother taught French class," Gambit teased, then laughed.

Rogue glanced at him wryly. "Are going to talk or not?"

Gambit shrugged. "There's not much to say. My mutation must've been the reason why my parents abandoned me—they were frightened by the color of my eyes, maybe. Or maybe I just kept blowing things up as an infant. My mutation was what got me into all the trouble I went through, though being part of the Guild of Thieves might've added to the cause. Still, I would rather kill myself then throw all of that away just to be normal, to take the Cure."

Rogue closed her eyes, exhaled, then opened them. "But your mutation isn't like mine, Gambit. You can control it. You don't know what it's like to be the way I was before, not being able to touch anyone, to be alone."

He took her hand, clasping it between both of his. "Does this make you happy, then? You're touching someone. You're not hurting anybody."

She zeroed in on his tan skin and long, graceful fingers. Her hand looked so delicate and pale wrapped in his. "I know," Rogue said. "And I like this. It's called human contact, and I like it."

Gambit released her hand. "But you're not human, chere," he pointed out. "You're a mutant."

She stretched her fingers. "Not anymore."

He shook his head. "You were born a mutant, and you'll always be a mutant," he argued.

"Is that your philosophy?" Rogue asked, eyebrows raised. "It sounds stupid to me."

He seemed genuinely offended. "Excuse-moi?"

"Yes, you're excused," Rogue said, the corner of her lips twitching into a smile.

"Chere," Gambit whined.

"Yes, Gambit?"

"Call me Remy."

"Then call me Rogue."

They locked gazes, neither daring to break away. Then, without him noticing, Rogue slowly let her hand creep up to Gambit's face. He blinked, acknowledging it, and gave her a curious look. She reached out, as if she were about to caress his cheek like a lover would.

"AHHH!" Gambit yelped.

Rogue cackled, snatching her fingers from the area near his neck before he could catch her. "Pressure point."

Gambit shook his head. "You are so, so strange, Rogue."

She grinned. "Thank you, Remy."

His face lit up.

(2)

"Hey," she said, smiling. "It's you again."

His greeting was different. "ROGUEY!" Gambit shouted, pulling her into a huge bear hug. Then he laughed, amused by her stunned expression. "Maybe we should meet here every Monday night, chere," he suggested. "Nobody thinks about going to a bar on Mondays."

"Sure thing," she agreed. "We're special."

"Of course," he supplied. "We're X-Men."

"Say," Rogue began, "What's your power, Remy? You can blow stuff up, right?"

Gambit reached into the pocket of his long, loose trench coat and pulled out a deck of playing cards. He chose a random face card; its back was violet and covered in swirly designs. "Right, cherie," he said, and tossed it up. It exploded in midair, purple-red sparks flying. The few people in the bar sprinted for the exit in a flurry of panic.

"Wow," Rogue commented, waving smoke away from her face. "Fireworks. Can you do anything useful?" She gave her mouth a sarcastic twist to the side.

Gambit laughed. "If a little birdie had flown in here when I threw that card, it'd be dead by now."

"I don't believe you," Rogue told him, shuffling the remaining playing cards. She did a sloppy move that sent a few cards flying off the counter, and blushed as they drifted to the floor.

Gambit snorted and retrieved them, stealing the incomplete deck from Rogue and masterfully, one-handedly shuffling the cards with his magic fingers. "I have a wooden staff, too, but I'm afraid I'll scare people away by taking it out."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Sugar, you've already scared them away."

"Really?" He asked, amused. "Hmm. I set off one little explosion and they've all gone a-running home." He turned his head around, scanned the line of bottled drinks and dripping taps, and laughed. "Oh, look, the bartender left, too. I don't think he likes us."

"So, then, are you going to show me your staff or not?" Rogue demanded. She was suddenly excited to see it.

"Non," Gambit smirked. "It'd be like pulling down my pants in front of your eyes."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Does that mean you show all your enemies your private bits whenever you fight?"

He laughed. "Oui, of course. Why do you think I always win?"

Rogue pretended to take him seriously and actually ponder over his question.

"They're always entranced by my equipment, you see, and they never notice that I've set off one of these." He fanned out his cards and grinned.

"You're not normal, Remy," She informed him.

Gambit threw his arm over her shoulders. "Non, I'm not."

"Do you like being an X-Man so far?"

He smiled sunnily. "I hate it."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you people are all organized. My motto is 'To hell with organization!', you know. And also, I'm not allowed to steal anything. I was bred to be a thief, so right now I'm feeling a bit like a recovering alcoholic."

Rogue eyed his empty glass. It was the third drink he'd had since he arrived."An alcoholic, huh?"

Gambit chuckled. "Figurative language, cherie." He easily swung his legs over the counter and poured himself another drink. "But I'll consider the offer."

The entire building seemed to creak as he moved. Rainbow was an old bar, and from the exterior and interior, it looked like it was about to break down any minute. Still, it had a woodsy smell and a gentle appearance and the feeling of home, no matter where your home was, and that was why it was so appreciated by its customers.

"Remy?"

"Mmm?"

"Why don't I ever see you around at the mansion?"

There was a pause, and then he answered, "I don't live there."

"Why not?"

Gambit shrugged. "It's not right for me. I've already agreed to becoming an X-Man, so that should be enough for Wolf-homme and Stormy."

"You don't have a communicator, either?"

"Those things are incredibly stupid." Gambit stated with a smile. He hesitated, then added, "Anyway, you have seen me around. I always pass you in the hall, after missions and things like that."

"Hmm, I guess so." Rogue yawned—it was getting late, and she'd had a tiring day. "By the way, Remy…"

"What now, chere?"

She spoke her mind without a hint of uncertainty. "I mean… we just met last week, but… I like you. I can be myself around you, even though you're practically a stranger to me."

He chuckled. "Aw, thanks, Rogue. I like you, too."

Rogue flashed a thousand-watt smile, then changed the subject, wondering, "Do you think the bartender will ever come back?"

"I sincerely doubt it," Gambit chortled. "I scared him off for good, didn't I?"

Rogue pushed her drink away from her. The glass was three-quarters full. "Doesn't matter," she said. "He made horrible drinks. And it's pretty hard to screw up something as simple as a drink. I mean, he's nearly as bad as your Cajun accent, Swamp Rat."

"Ouch." He put his hand over his heart and tossed his head back theatrically. "You wound me, River Rat."

She shot him a surprised look. "How'd you guess where I'm from?"

Gambit smirked. "Cherie, your twang is as thick as the water of our swamps. Anyway, only a Mississippi woman would call a fine Louisiana man like me a rat."

Rogue didn't bother restraining herself from rolling her eyes. "A fine man, Remy? Y'all can't even say somethin' without gettin' on a lady's bad side."

He laughed at the sudden change of her accent, and drawled his next words like they were in French, keeping his mouth mostly closed until he was almost unintelligible. In fact, Rogue couldn't understand him at all, but she was pretty sure he had said, "Well, I don't know if you would consider yourself a lady, Rogue."

"Thanks." Another eye-roll.

Gambit jumped suddenly, as if he had just remembered something. "Oh, cherie, I almost forgot to ask you—why don't we ever have any missions together, hmm?"

Rogue was quiet.

"Cherie?" He gazed at her expectantly, still waiting for her reply.

"Uh… well… they send me on all the easy ones."

"Why? You've been at the School for years, haven't you?"

The confidence she felt when she was around him had dissipated. "I don't have my mutation anymore," she said flatly. "They don't need me."

Gambit said something in French. Rogue suspected it was a curse. He pulled her into a hug, as if she needed comforting (she did, sometimes, but she wasn't that weak. Maybe.).

There was a long, somehow soothing silence.

"Rogue?"

She turned her head to look at him.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Rogue pulled away, mentally cursing the stupid womanizer for taking advantage of her. When she spoke, her voice was bone-dry. "Yes. It's Bobby—do you know him?"

Gambit chuckled. "Oui. Well, at least somebody's enjoying the whole being-able-to-touch-you thing, chere."

Surprised, she laughed.