Desclaimer: None of the characters mentioned in this story belong to me (o woe is me…) and I have used bits and pieces of plots from the comicverse.

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Chapter #2: The Secret

Present Day.

'And this?'

'Nothin'.'

'And there?'

'Ummm… nothin'.'

'And what about… here?'

'Nope. Nothin'.'

Jean Grey-Summers put her hand down and leaned her elbow against the arm of her chair. She stared into the emerald eyes of the woman sitting before her, her lips creasing with a beautiful smile.

'I think we're almost there, Rogue.'

Rogue smiled faintly, clasping her hands in her lap. 'Ah can hardly believe it, sugah.' Her tone belied her lack of confidence.

Jean reached out and patted Rogue's ungloved hand with her own ungloved hand. 'Well believe it. You have come a long way.'

Indeed she had. It had been nearly five years now since she had joined the X-Men. It wasn't so much as "turning good" as the prospect of finally controlling her powers that had lured her into the mansion walls, and under Professor Xavier's tutelage. For years her case was considered impossible, and what little hope she had was saved only through one woman's, and one man's, faith.

Jean Grey and Hank McCoy, aka Beast, spent much of their free time between missions and their personal lives to shed some light onto Rogue's "problem". They had finally found the answer… and it had been so simple…

Rogue was a mutant who could absorb the psyche and powers of another individual through the slightest of touches. The duration of such a touch determined the duration she would have the individual's mind within her head. What Hank found extremely interesting, and greatly beneficial, was that a remnant of a person's psyche remained in Rogue's head. It never really went away. Something remained. And so, too, did something of their powers.

After this fact was revealed, it only took a few days' worth of brainpower for the doctor to realize that Rogue could trigger the powers of another individual's within her, and use that power to control her own. The power in question… happened to be empathy.

There were various people in Rogue's mind that held such a power, but only one source was strong enough to help Rogue in her cause. It was the residue of Remy Lebeau. This was as much of a shock to Hank than it was to Rogue. Remy had never shown any signs of having empathy, which was why the power was considered so strong within him. He had harnessed it – controlled it – so well that perhaps even HE didn't know he possessed it. Using this power, along with Jean's help to place psychic walls around her mind, Rogue began the long and tedious process of learning control.

And it had taken years.

Years of secrecy, of hidden appointments in the lab, and of suppressed desires to share with the others… to share that finally… FINALLY… she could engage in human contact. And yet, even know, the possibility seemed so farfetched.

Rogue could touch, yes, but it was painfully limited. As she sat there now, watching Jean pack up her files, she recalled the first moment she felt another's flesh against hers. It was during one of her sessions with Jean. They had managed to place a third wall in her psyche, and Jean had convinced Rogue, after an hour of constant reassuring, to allow a test of touch. Rogue finally gave in, and within a moment, she was running her finger down the back of Jean's hand. Safely. Both women had cried.

But it was only for a moment. After this first initial touch, all others proved progressive. Each new touch lasted that much longer and Rogue was finally starting to gain some confidence. Still, the durations weren't long enough, and after some time, her powers would start tugging at the other's mind. She would break the touch… and the moment would be gone.

'We'll try again in three days,' Jean was saying, as she walked towards the door.

Rogue nodded. Their new goal now was to aim for complete control.

'Thanks, sugah,' Rogue said, her voice barely a whisper. Jean smiled and disappeared into the hall, leaving Rogue alone in the empty classroom they had used as a hideaway that day.

Getting up from her chair, Rogue made her way towards the window and propped it open. The warm breeze wisped past her, bringing with it the scent of barbeque ribs. Leaning forwards slightly, she saw Logan, Bobby, and Bishop shooting hoops; Ororo and Scott were huddled over the grill; Betsy was trying to talk a few of the students into playing Frisbee; and Jean joining the crew to set the table. They seemed in another world. A world she could only look into, but never belong in.

She sighed, and pushed away from the window. She had felt the same about life until that touch with Jean. Now… she was in limbo. Freedom was so close she could taste it… and yet the taste was far too foreign.

She grabbed her jacket and slipped on her gloves. As she made her way towards the door, she wondered why it was she desired freedom so desperately. Her powers made her a great asset to the team, and contributed immensely into making her the person she was. This aside, however, and the answer was simple. She desired freedom… because she was in love.

It wasn't until Remy had returned from Antarctica, until all the drama had died down, until they had fallen into the old routine after months of quiet forgiving… that she realized just how much he meant to her. The night they had shared in the cave – the cell – during his trial still burned in her memory, and on her body, as if it had just happened. She could still feel his warmth against her, his flesh melting into hers, and the soft caress of his lips. She had now come to the point that if she didn't see him at least once a day, she would lapse into a sort of withdrawal. At the same time, each sighting of him would only cause the unbearable pain of knowing she could never touch him like that again.

And yet… nothing had come of their relationship. They remained within the same game of shameless flirtations and occasional dinners – which almost always ended in a big, heated argument. To the rest of their teammates, Rogue and Remy were a couple in the dark… each not knowing it, but the rest of the world understanding it. They were off limits, and meant only for each other. Therefore it was rudely agonizing for the others to witness Rogue's or Remy's ignorance about the other's feelings. And it was even more agonizing to know that they couldn't get involved. Encouraging the actions of either Rogue or Remy was very dangerous. Both had a low tolerance for what was… well… simple.

No, it was a world of complications that these two belonged in. Rogue was in love… but couldn't understand what that meant. And, of course, it was nearly impossible to determine how Remy felt about her. They never, ever, talked about that night.

Rogue opened the door and stepped out into the hall. It was unusually empty for a Wednesday, but she deduced that everyone was probably outdoors for the barbeque. Everyone except…

''Morning, chere.'

A quiver simmered down Rogue's neck and into her lower back as the deeply toned accented voice penetrated her silence.

'Hiya, Remy.' She turned the key in the lock of the door as she silently cursed herself for letting her guard down. She hadn't even heard Remy slink up through the hallway. 'What're you doin' inside? The party's out there.' She nudged her head towards the window at the end of the hallway.

Remy leaned against the wall with his shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. He was smiling down at her.

'I was talking to de Doc. He said you were in here so I came to keep you company.'

'O how sweet,' she said, her tone a bit tart. She then dropped her gaze and added, more softly, 'but Ah don't feel like joining the others just now. Ah'm a mite tired.'

She pushed past him and started to walk towards the elevators. With her back to him now, she never saw the sudden drop in the Cajun's face.

'You okay, petite?' he asked, his brows knit together.

Rogue waved a hand in the air. 'Ah'm fine,' she assured him, without looking back. Remy was not convinced, but let her go. He knew better than to pester her about something she had no intention of indulging in.

So, after seeing her enter and disappear into the elevator, he turned in the opposite direction and headed down towards the yard. She would get hungry… eventually…