The mansion was silent that night, except for the sounds of light footsteps on the second floor. She stepped as quietly as possible, especially as she tiptoed past the professor's room. She didn't want anyone to hear her leave. They'd think she was running away. She was, in a way. Running from the stresses of being part of the team, the stresses of being what she was...the stresses of not being able to touch the man she loved.
As she passed his room, she stopped to listen. He was sleeping. If he wasn't, then he must've been sick. Remy wasn't exactly a quiet man.
She opened his door a crack and looked in. He lay asleep on his bed. His thin, summer bedcovers failed to hide his muscular form. The blanket was pulled down as well, revealing his chest and upper abdomen. His brown, shaggy hair fell over his closed eyes, the eyes that could melt her on the spot. She closed her eyes, fighting back tears and biting her lower lip. She longed to just go in there, to lie next him, even if it was just for a night. Instead, she closed his door and walked down the large staircase to the main hall of the Charles Xavier Acedemy for Gifted Youngsters. She pulled her denim jacket tighter as she reminisced. She remembered her first time stepping through the large front doors. The hatred of her now-teammates' eyes still burned through her. She couldn't really blame them. After doing what she did. Fighting against them. But she needed the professor's help, and help he did, in more ways than one.
She tried unsuccessfully to open the door quietly, but it creaked, and she stopped. She heard footsteps above her. She knew who it was.
"Dammit, Logan," she whispered harshly. His extra sensitive hearing had caught the small creak, even from upstairs. She decided to just get out, since someone knew she was leaving. She growled a little in frustration and swung the door the rest of the way open, slamming it into a nearby table. Well, she thought. There's a wake-up call.
She ran out the door and shot up when she got clear of the gate. As she looked back she saw Logan outside in just a pair of jeans, looking around at ground level. He must not have know it was me, she thought, flying higher. She looked back once again, this time at a second floor balcony. A man in pajama pants and an untied robe stood on it, looking up at her. She stopped, transfixed. He glanced at Logan, who was now looking up as well. Then, without looking back at her, he shook his head and walked back into his room. The hurt in her heart nearly made her cry out. He looked almost...dissappointed with her. Tears burned in her eyes again, and she flew away.
She'd found this place about a month ago, and went there when she was under stress. She seemed to have been going there a lot lately.
It was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. A small pond surrounded by rocks hidden by a grove of trees and flowering bushes, with a small waterfall flowing into it. She sat on one of the rocks, dipping her bare feet into it. The water was warmer than she thought it would be, and she took off her jacket. Maybe a little swim would take her mind off things.
She was about to take off her shirt when a twig snapped behind her. She spun around to see Remy there, smiling sheepishly, adverting his eyes.
"Remy!" she yelled angrily. "What the hell are ya doin' here?"
"I was worried 'bout you, chere," he said, stepping out into better light. He had slipped on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, along with his brown trenchcoat. "You jus' took off, an' I followed you."
"How?" she asked. "Ah was flyin' fast. How did ya catch up?"
"Jeanie," he replied. "She linked to you telepathically and led us to you. Hope you're not mad, chere."
"No," she said, running a hand through her hair. Her white streak intermingled with the red, making it less defined. "Ah'm not mad. Just a lil edgy, that's all."
"Why's dat?" Remy asked, sitting down with her on a rock. He looked into her eyes. "Did I do sumtin' wrong?"
"No," she said, smiling.
"Oh," he said. He flashed her a brilliant smile. She felt her heart skip a beat. "Dat's usually what's buggin' you."
She laughed and slipped a strand of white behind her ear. "No," she said, smiling at him. "It's not what ya did wrong, sugah. It's what ya did right."
"Moi?" he asked in mock amazement. "Gambit did sumtin' right?" He put a gloved hand on her forehead, as if checking her temperature. "You feelin' alright, Rogue?"
"Yeah," she said with a little laugh.
"You okay now?"
"Ta be honest," she said. "No, not really. There's too much stuff Ah need ta fix, and it won't be all better after one lil chat with you."
"I see," he said, standing up. He smiled again and offered her his hand. "Can I give you a lift, mon cheri?"
She smiled and took his hand in hers. "Of course ya can, Monsieur Lebeau."