A/N: Thank you Chellerbelle, Warrior-princess, Sugahroc, and EvrAnge for the reviews. Hopefully, I write up to your expectations.

Safe

on the inside looking out...

Rogue watched the play of uncertainty and concern on Logan's face and wanted to yank her hand out of Remy's. But she knew that would just make him angry at the apparently unfounded rejection, so she tightened her grip on his fingers instead, letting the pressure help her release some of her own fear and soothe the butterflies in her stomach.

Remy glanced over at her, startled by the motion, but with his, as usual, understated reaction. Slight puzzlement flickered in his eyes.

She lifted her lips into the barest of smiles, then looked away, back to Logan, smoothing over the rejection by shifting just a little closer to Remy on the couch. The action made her uncomfortable, but it kept her on safe ground, and she wasn't ready just yet to start throwing down the law and losing all the compassion and affection that still softened Remy's eyes when he looked at her.

Logan sighed. He seemed to realize there wasn't any reasoning with them. He threw up his hands at the both of them and ground out in frustration, "I'm here if you need me," then stalked out of the room.

Rogue crumpled the fingers of her free hand into the arm of the couch. She watched the give of the leather. She felt Remy's heated gaze studying her.

"Y' sure about this, chère?" he asked quietly. Very quietly. He seemed to realize she was having second thoughts.

But seriously, didn't he realize how much power there was in controlling someone who could do so much damage? How many people had done it to both of them, either of them—giving them orders they knew would be obeyed and wreaking more havoc through Rogue and Gambit than they would have possibly wreaked on their own?

She peeked up at him from under her bangs.

I really don't think this is a good idea, the Kitty-psyche in her head began.

We all know that, pint-size. Logan had his arms crossed and a growl ready to cross his lips.

Remy's psyche was quiet, as if waiting for her to answer the outside Remy's question in her own mind. She hadn't even admitted to herself yet whether she was really sure. She had been sure she wanted to be able to put her foot down, but she hadn't really thought it through. She wasn't sure she even knew all the things that could go wrong.

"Maybe y'all should go first," she finally managed.

Remy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'd think you'd be more comfortable starting."

Giving orders, controlling the both of them versus taking orders and being controlled. She could see his point, but...

Rogue shrugged. "It's a Thursday. You wouldn't have all that long anyhow." And she could figure out how this thing was done.

He seemed to be considering that, then abruptly slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Her breath caught tight in her throat. Her whole body tensed. This was the very action that had started this whole mess this morning in the first place, and she was absolutely certain he was testing her to see how she would take it. But she said nothing. Did nothing. Just held her breath, held in the tears that wanted to come at how impossibly close (and dangerous) she was to him. She could feel his breath on her hair and against the bare skin of her temple.

After a long moment, she could feel him whisper, "'S okay, chère. Not'ing bad is happening." His accent was thicker than usual and his voice soft and almost pleading.

She shuddered and lowered her head to burrow her face against his chest. Safe. Away from all that skin.

He hushed her. "It's okay."

It really wasn't.

But if she went through with this and let Remy lead out, she would have to face the consequences immediately and spend the next three days having him touch her, hold her closer than she was ready to be. She shuddered and pulled away.

He let her go, but she could see the skeptical vindication in his burning eyes.

Rogue didn't go far. She stayed on the couch, leaned forward to rest elbows on knees and face in her hands. This is a bad idea. The alternative though—the fighting, the push and pull, the hurt and the anger—that was all worse.

Three days. Breathe, girl, breathe. She could live with three days. Breathe in, breathe out.

"I can do it," Rogue blurted. It was just three days. Three days of leaving Remy in charge of their relationship. She glanced back over her shoulder and winced at the naked skepticism in his eyes. He didn't think she could and that just made her angry. Her temper flared and she snapped, "If y'all can do it, I can."

The Kitty in her wanted to backpedal. I'm pretty sure starting another fight isn't, like, a good idea.

He's just trying to manipulate her, Kurt's psyche retorted. He was so sure that Remy's disbelief was calculated to make Rogue do just this and hand over control early.

You know, kid, her own personal Logan started to offer his own advice.

Rogue glared them all to silence. Shut. Up. My life. My choice.

She focused back on Remy again. He was shuffling cards, and she realized dimly she hadn't even noticed him break them out. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"They all done pestering my chérie?" he asked.

She glared at him instead. "Stay out of my head, swamp rat!"

He looked up, smirked at her. "Don't need in your head." She'd definitely managed to amuse him. "Besides, I ain't a telepath."

She grumbled a little. He had a point. She hated it when he had points. Taking a different tack, she reached for his cards to stop that annoying shuffling sound, but he pulled them out of her reach abruptly.

"Tsk, tsk." His grin grew to really insufferably proportions. "I be calling the shots now."

And that was that. He'd accepted. She smiled, just a little. Even if she had to sit back and let him indulge his annoying habit, she had won the argument.

I suppose, Logan's psyche commented dubiously.

Oh, shut up! The psyches were as annoying as the cards. "Got some homework to do," Rogue said while getting up.

Remy just nodded and got up with her. She could tell by his expression and direction that he was probably going to go work on his bike. Off chance, he might be heading for practicing his thieving skills in the Danger Room, something that usually earned her disdain or ire until he'd explained how handy those skills came in for X-Men work.

She did have some homework to do, but it wasn't for school. Rogue settled in on her bed, kicked her feet up in the air, and started scribbling in a notebook. She needed to plan. It was one thing to be able to call the shots; it was quite another to know which ones she wanted to call.