Jamie: is pissed about being so late on this. Like some sort of kraken rising out of the depths of a deep ocean, wrenching its jaws open to reveal hundreds of razor sharp teeth that reek of rotten flesh as it emits ground-shattering scream that signals the beginning of its new quest for bloooooood! That's how pissed I am. (That's also probably the reason I don't have more friends on this site. …I just compared myself to a kraken...)

You: are pissed at Jamie for being a kraken while writing. (It's horribly difficult to type with tentacles.)

This Story: will have a happy ending. Just repeating. Happy ending is happy! HAPPY, I TELL YOU! HAPPY!

Again, sorry this took me so long to get this out. I was busy… (being a kraken.)To make it up, this chapter is longer than my attention span. (…Think about it…)

-

His head whipped to the side as another set of knuckles collided with his chin, sending him stumbling to the ground, tripping over one of the eight men he'd already knocked unconscious. He worked his jaw to make sure it wasn't broken and no teeth had been displaced.

"You had enough, mutie?" The man in front of him growled, wiping his knuckles free of blood on his jeans.

Remy grinned down at the ground, coughing harshly.

"No," He looked up at the man, still grinning like a fool. "No, I don't think I have."

"No?" The man repeated, more out of shock than anything else. "No?" He said again, jaw falling open.

"Now," Remy grunted as he used a bar stool as leverage to pull himself into an upright position. "The better question is- What're y' gonna do about it?" He cocked his head to the side, antagonizing the boy with his grin.

Why?

Well, Remy wasn't really caring about 'Why' at the moment, 'Why the hell not?' seeming like a better question to him. He wanted a fight. A decent knuckle-busting, bone-breaking, life-threatening fight. And, by god, he was gonna get one.

Why?

Why not?

"C'mon," He waved his hands in an encouraging fashion. "Y' know y' wanna start somethin', boy, so start it."

The kid's eyes flicked to the men lying on the ground, indecision written across his features. He wanted to throw down, that much was obvious by the wicked fire in his eyes. He wanted something similar to what Remy wanted, only for a slightly less complicated reason- he just needed a little more encouragement.

"Oh, I get it," Remy smirked. "Y'r afraid of the big bad mutant, is that it?" He provoked.

Why?

Why not?

"What d'ya got t' lose?" Remy inquired, lips angling upwards in a vicious line. "Hell, you jerk that blade you've been itchin' t' get at, y' may even come out on top." He informed the boy.

The boy's fingers scratched at his pocket, eyes darting about nervously as he continued to hesitate.

"Mon Dieu, boy! Am I gonna havta give y' a reason?" Remy groaned, quickly growing impatient. When had it gotten so hard to get into a good fight these days?

His hand flew out at a nearly incomprehensible speed, snatching up a bottle from the bar next to him. The bottle started to glow a violent fuchsia.

Why?

Why not?

Remy let the bottle tumble out of his fingers.

"You sonovabitch!" The kid shouted as the bottle combusted, shards of glass flying everywhere, one hand flew to protect his face as the other dug into his pocket.

Remy bared his teeth it what could have been construed as a smile under the proper circumstances. As it so happened, these were exactly what he deemed 'the proper circumstances' at the moment.

"I'll kill you, you mutie bastard!" The boy flipped out a black-handled blade from his pocket, that obviously having been the straw that broke the camel's back. "I kill you!" He lunged forward, knife first.

Remy braced himself.

A shotgun blast exploded, beckoning their attention.

"Do I have your attention?" The old man in the doorway asked calmly, the smoke floating from the shotgun perched on his shoulder wafted through the air, thick with threats. "You alright?" He looked over at Remy.

"Duke!" The kid interrupted. "He's a mutant! Shoot 'im, Duke!"

"I ain't gonna shoot anyone that stands still." 'Duke' growled. "That includes you." The gun swung to face the kid, who suddenly became very shy. "Now, son, I'm gonna ask you again," Duke turned back to Remy. "You alright?"

Remy nodded, eyes shifting around warily. The blood from his lip smeared down his chin as he frowned. What was going on? This wasn't right.

"You can loosen up that stance of yours, kid- no one here's gonna hurt ya." He sent a withering look at anyone still conscious. "Isn't that right, boys?" It was noted how his finger pressed against the trigger.

"Yes, sir!" A quick and prompt response was offered as all still conscious fled the bar.

Remy slowly uncoiled his strained muscles, still mildly wary as he eyed the old man.

"Now, son," Duke grunted with the aches of old age as he lowered his weapon and took a seat at a nearly destroyed table with broken bottle and blood smeared across it and poured himself a drink, gesturing for Remy to sit across from him. Remy hesitated a moment but, never one to turn down a drink, took the seat. "I don't know what exactly made you come here tonight," Duke continued wisely. "Maybe your wife left ya, maybe your best friend died- hell, maybe you're just stupid- like I said, I don't know." He stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully as he spoke. "But I know what you're lookin' for, son. Been there myself. What you're aching for is a good story for someone to tell at your funeral." He stopped to sip at his drink, considering his words wisely as Remy scrutinized the old man, attempting to decide if he was on his side or not. "I'm just gonna tell ya that no one here's gonna give it to ya. These men are as yellow as they come. Even if you get your funeral, there won't be any good stories."

"What're y' sayin'?" Remy asked scathingly. "My way out ain't worth it?"

Duke chuckled.

"Now, I know if someone had tried to tell me that when I was in your shoes, I would have very kindly suggested they shove it out their ass." He mused. "So, I'm not gonna say that. What I'm sayin' is, find a better story. This isn't the way you wanna go out, son." He nodded knowingly. "But, I do know by the look in your eye that there is a young lady somewhere that's not going to be very pleased you ain't home."

Remy smiled lightly.

-

Rogue inhaled the soft air of the room slowly. It was cool and sweet as it carried itself through the window and brushed against her skin, tugging at her senses for subtle attention. The sound of a thousand crickets competing for the consideration of a lover was carried on that wind. The untainted scent of freshly cut grass and night floated in on the breeze. The stars speckled the sky, leaving glimmering reflections in her bright eyes. Her lips curved unconsciously as she wound her fingers around in the deep red sheets she was still snuggled in, not because she was blissful in this particular moment, which she just so happened to be, but because she was allowed to have that moment of pure existence. A moment where she appreciated everything she saw and heard.

Yes, she was still the scowling, snapping, scary Rogue who did what she pleased when she pleased, but, even rogues were allowed a moment to gaze at the stars.

Without her consent, her moment was cut short by the roar of a motorcycle engine.

She sat up straight in his bed, tapping her fingers against her thighs as she contemplated how exactly she was going to react to that motorcycle engine and the man she knew for sure was controlling it.

She could be coy and wait for him to come to her.

She could be sulky and snap at him for being late.

She could be roguish and do something completely unexpected like sprint downstairs, bound out into the driveway and kiss him.

"Well," She grinned, slipping out from between the sheets. "If I'm anything, it's Rogue-ish."

She attempted to keep her footfalls silent as she creeped her way into the hall, smile curving across her lips as she crouched in the shadows. As soon as she was sure that no one had heard her leave his room she hit the ground running, racing herself to the bottom of the staircase. She barely stopped to wrench open the door and throw herself out onto the walk. She looked around for barely a half second before she took off for the garage, her grin practically splitting her face.

"Remy!" She called as she took the corner into the garage at top speed. Her eyes widened ad her progress ground to a halt when she saw the young man ambling away from his motorcycle.

"Chere," Remy grinned around a cigarette at her, blood smearing down his chin from his busted lip.

"What happened to you?" Her brows furrowed with confusion and concern. She took a tentative step forward as if her very presence could harm him further.

Remy was grimly proud of the state he was in, feeling that he earned every bruise scattered across his frame. His eye was black, his lip was swollen and split, his hair was slick with rum and blood, broken glass had settle in the creases of his clothes, there were wide gashes on his knuckles, and so many black and blue splotches he could pass as a leopard if he felt so inclined.

"A little brawl 's all." He attempted to dismiss casually, covering a cough with the back of his hand.

"Are you alright?" She took another step forward, watching him carefully. Her good mood shifted away, replaced by wariness. Something was off about him. She could see it in his eyes.

"'M fine," He smiled at her tenderly, a slight tic in his jaw.

Rogue's eyes narrowed. She could smell a Remy LeBeau lie from a mile away.

"Are you sure?" She asked with a slight scathing undertone, stepping forward.

"Positive." He smirked, sensing her game and still taking a step to match hers, only in the opposite direction. There was an almost audible rhythm as they each took up their own sides of the very familiar repartee they had going with each other. It was like a dance they knew by heart even though the music always changed.

"You smell like rum." She noted, taking another step.
"So do a lot of people." Remy countered, taking a step as well so that they were effectively circling each other.

"'A lot of people' don't come home from two days off doing 'something' black an' blue." Rogue observed.

"Well, 'a lot of people' ain't me." Remy replied smartly, enjoying the banter while it lasted.

"So I've noticed." She looked him over, hunting for some sort of tell.

"I find it's one of my more attractive qualities." He grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets so she wouldn't see his fingers tremble as he skillfully attempted to herd the dance in a different direction.

"You would," Rogue snorted with a small, slightly sarcastic, smile playing across her lips as they continued circling each other, each of them waiting for the other to slip up in some way. Remy wanted to hear her laugh. Rogue wanted to hear him tell the truth.

"What? You don't think I'm attractive?" He pretended to be affronted by the notion.

Rogue rolled her eyes, not giving up on her goal so easily as to be distracted by his usual tricks. "Try again, Cajun." The dance continued.

"Where should I start?" Remy pondered.

"The beginning?" Rogue suggested.

"Right," Remy grinned and Rogue caught her mistake before he even spoke the next words. "Well, when a mommy and a daddy-."

"I meant where you went." Rogue interrupted.

"Ah," Remy grinned wider. "Y' should've been more specific." He informed her.

"That wasn't an answer." She pointed out.

"Y' didn' ask a question." He shot right back, figuring if he couldn't make her laugh the conversation off, he could get her frustrated to the point she would just stop asking questions at all. She wouldn't like the answers to them.

Obviously, his newer ploy was working as she snorted with fury and stomped her foot, faltering the steps of the dance.

"Would ya' jus' give me a straight answer for once in yah life, Remy LeBeau!" She shouted.

"It's better that I don't." He assured her, stepping forward and pressing his lips softly against her cheek to comfort her that he wasn't upset with or blaming her for being peeved with him.

As usual, Rogue caved when he kissed her, rolling her eyes at how soft she had become because of him and pausing only a moment to wipe away the bloody smudge the kiss had left on her cheek.

"Come on," She sighed with a small smile playing across her lips as she laced her fingers with his. "Let's go get you cleaned up." She pulled him forward towards the mansion.

Remy smiled softly as he followed her, taking the opportunity to try and commit every detail of her to memory.

Rogue was honestly surprised he hadn't had some sort of crude suggestion to go along with her proposition. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable that something as simple and mundane as raunchy jokes seemed like the world when he didn't rise to the occasion. She knew there was something wrong with him; she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"Where we goin'?" Remy asked as soon as he realized they had bypassed the staircase.

"Down to the med bay," Rogue explained softly, still brooding.

Remy shifted uncomfortably but tried not to let it show. He hadn't had the best luck with hospitals lately. "Hm." Was all he added as she pulled him along with her.

"It'll be alright," She nudged him with her elbow.

Remy doubted it, but smiled just for her.

He was so busy attempting to please Rogue; he didn't even notice the large Russian figure step out into the hall from the kitchen where he had been waiting up.

-

My goodness, I am just slathering on the original characters this story, aren't I? I liked Gretchen, too. I do hope we'll see more of her. (Catty foreshadowing? Me? Never!)The next chapter will be up sooner rather than later, I swear!