Remy stood immobile with his hand balled into a fist, ready to knock on her door. His hand wavered in the air just a hair's width from the wood that separated him from her.

It would be so easy right now to take her in his arms and press his lips tightly up against hers. But honour and respect kept his hand from rapping urgently, desperately at her door. He snatched his hand down quickly, hanging it uncomfortably by his side before he forced himself to move towards his own room.

Encased in darkness and solitude once he closed himself off from her in the safely of his own room, Remy frantically searched his pockets for a cigarette. Finding one in a rather clumsy fashion, he threw open the window and perched onto the sill while lighting up the cigarette. He inhaled rapidly, tilting his head back to rest against the solid, wood frame and stared up at the night sky.

There was no way he could ever have her in good conscience. Even if she was willing to open up and admit she knew him and admit that they had shared something—something special, he couldn't do the same. Not now. Not after meeting her here, at this place with Logan and Bobby.

It tore him up something fierce to tell such a bold faced lie, straight in her eyes, but he reasoned it was better to endure her anger over Bobby's. Remy had had plenty of experience with angry boyfriends, but never with one he considered a friend.

No, it had been necessary to keep up the lie and deny he knew her. The moment he'd said it, he knew it was for the best and that he was doing the right thing. She might hate him now, but later she would thank him. He really was her knight in shining armour on this one. She just didn't know it yet. He'd allowed her to be happy with Bobby.

It still didn't stop him from thinking of her and remembering that night for the thousandth time.

Suddenly restless and afraid that he might do something he'd regret, Remy climbed from the window and out onto the mansion's roof. The wind whipped violently through his hair as he hugged his body to try and escape the chill. The harsh wind was a better alternative than foolishly hanging around her door like some lovelorn idiot.

Remy liked being up high and looking down at the world below. Despite the wind, it was a clear night and the moon illuminated the yard beneath him in an eerie, quiet beauty. It helped to keep his heart steady. He wandered aimlessly around the rooftop, running off his pent up energy and trying to relieve himself of his thoughts concerning her.

As he walked across the roof a little further, he quickly realized that even out here he couldn't escape her. He drew to a sharp halt when he caught sight of her outside and up on the roof as well. Fate was hardly being kind to him tonight.

Her back was to him and her legs dangled casually over the side of the roof. She was resting on her arms and stared out at the lonely yard below.

Remy felt guilty all over again. He had happened upon her secret place. He could tell by her relaxed posture that she was no stranger to the rooftop and that it was a place where she went to find peace and quiet, probably often.

After what he'd said to her earlier, he felt severely unwelcome at this hallowed place of hers. It wasn't right to be out here with her, intruding upon her special place and treading, however softly, on her territory.

Soundlessly, he slowly backed away. She hadn't heard or seen him, so he could flee back to his room in a cowardly fashion that was so unlike him in the first place. She would never know that he had been there, stumbling accidentally on her privacy.

But, God, she looked pretty in the serene moonlight. He stood quietly and immovable, admiring her with an unrelenting neediness. She was so close, yet so far out of reach, not unlike the stars that filled the night sky or the moon that shone so beautifully down on her.

A gust of wind blew past him, blowing leaves in quick, darting swirls around her silhouette. She shivered and pulled her arms up against her body and Remy knew it was time he left. She'd be getting colder and would eventually turn around to go back inside. He'd do something stupid if she caught him out here spying on her.

He had come out here to prevent himself from seeking her out and instead he had found her anyway. He took another step backwards, leaving her in her silent, undisturbed tableau of beauty, framed against the moonlight just as he had found her.

"I know you're there," she commented, not turning to look at him at all. "I can smell your cigarette."

Remy cursed and immediately stubbed out the offending little traitor burning to ash in his hand.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he offered up feebly.

"You come out here to think?" she asked, her back still facing him.

"Ouais."

"Me too." She sighed as she finally turned her head.

Remy was unprepared for the exact effect she would have on him the moment her eyes caught his. There was something there that reminded him of the woman he had been drawn to many, many nights ago. It was a soft, fleeting look, one reminiscent of the very look she'd given him when she had gotten up from her barstool and decided to go home with him. He was wondering if she was thinking about their past like he had been.

"I- I'll leave you to your thoughts, Chere," he answered, barely able to muster a response.

"It's alright," she replied, before patting the spot beside her softly. "Come. Sit. I don't mind the company, if you don't."

His body had turned on him once again as he inched forward almost woodenly and took the spot beside her, sitting down with his legs draping over the edge. He didn't dare look her in the eye. He looked out over the yard intently instead.

"Look, I'm real sorry about… about before," she began nervously before covering her face with her hands. "Oh God, what you must think of me!"

Alarmed that she was going to cry, Remy instinctively reached an arm towards her only to yank it back in surprise when she lifted her head and began to laugh.

"I mean, really, I just told you that I thought we hooked up once before in a seedy bar! God, how embarrassing is that?" she asked with bright red cheeks. "I'm not really that kind of girl, y' know."

"I know," Remy answered back, again having trouble finding his voice.

"Like, I don't go around straying and stuff," she pressed as though she was trying to convince herself rather than him. "And I didn't mean to imply that we should… I got a boyfriend and…"

"And I get it," Remy answered back, hardly comfortable with the conversation she had in mind. He didn't need another reminder why they would never work. "Look, Chere. I owe you an apology. I've made the odd comment here 'n there. It was inappropriate and out of line. Down right rude of me, to be honest."

Rogue stared at him in surprise before her brow wrinkled in confusion. "So… you really have no interest in me at all… in that way?"

"None what-so-ever," Remy swore solemnly, keeping his eyes as innocent as a newborn. "My deepest apologies for any actions that caused you to question your relationship with Bobby or my intentions."

She smiled at the sound of Bobby's name and Remy merely endured the lazy, happy look that danced across her face. She stretched her arms out wide in front of her, still smiling as though the mention of his very name kept her warm. Remy had made her question her relationship with Bobby and for that he was sorry, but he was making amends for it, reassuring her that he wasn't interested in her or trying to steal her away.

If he could pull this off, it'd be the biggest con of his life. Although when he really thought about it, he was unclear as to whom he was really conning.

"I'd like to be friends with you, Remy," she replied gently after much thought.

"Then we are friends, ma cherie," Remy answered with a weak smile.

She seemed happy with his answer and moved closer to him, resting her head comfortably on his shoulder with a sleepy sigh and a bit of a shiver.

"Fall's coming quick this year," she commented with closed eyes, snuggling up closer to him for warmth.

"I hate the cold," Remy replied absently, draping his arm around her as platonically as he could, knowing full well that he could never be just friends with her.

He sat with her quietly, late into the night until finally she was ready to go back inside. It hadn't been weird or awkward at all to sit in absolute silence with her, never needing to fill the space with meaningless chatter. It felt right to him somehow to just simply 'be' beside her, rather than do anything.

Rogue's spirits were high the next morning. She woke up bright and early despite being up with Remy for most of the night. She wasn't supposed to feel this good on such little sleep. Remy didn't remember her as the girl he'd picked up months ago, but this morning she had a new outlook on that. Maybe that was a good thing. She had hated who she had been back then anyway.

This way, she could start fresh with Remy. He could get to know her without any preconceived notions. They could be just friends…

Rogue's face went tight, her lips in a frozen smile that faded from her eyes.

Was that really what she wanted?

She stared at her reflection in the antique mirror on the wall with worried eyes. She had to be honest with herself. Did she only think of Remy as a friend, or was this the answer she'd given him in response to him telling her that he had no romantic interest in her at all?

Was just friends really just an attempt to be close to him at whatever cost?

Rogue's heart sunk.

Yes.

Her ego had taken blow after blow from him, and still he refused to leave her thoughts. Still she continued to want him. It was hard not to want him.

He was attractive, that much was true and she already knew what he was like in bed, but last night she'd gotten a glimpse of him and who he really was.

And she liked it.

Liked him from the bits of memory she'd stolen from Sole. Remy was a vagabond, a highwayman—like in the poem. Romantic and honourable, yet slippery and sly. A man easy for her to fall for. He was clothed in mystery and charm and forever hiding his sweeter, softer temperament from the world, but he gave her tiny peeks inside, like last night on the roof.

He liked rooftops and heights. He hated the cold. Just like her. She was surprised to discover little idiosyncrasies of herself in him. Adding common ground to the mix only made her more curious about him. It only made her crave his attention more.

"You look well," Bobby said as he approached her. "I'm glad you got some sleep. I was worried you wouldn't."

Bobby bent down and brushed his lips softly against her forehead before sitting down beside her in her the meeting room.

"You don't need to worry about me, Bobby. You know that."

"Yeah, but sometimes I think someone's got to," he joked.

Rogue smiled and leaned over to plant a small kiss on Bobby's lips. Just being near Bobby changed the tune of her previous song. It was impossible to even believe that she was attracted to Remy whenever Bobby was near.

There was a certain level of comfort and familiarity with Bobby. She felt cozy and safe with him and never needed to question whether or not he cared about her. What a girl saw was what she got in terms of Bobby. Yet her chair was uncomfortable. The hard back dug into her spine as she wiggled to get comfortable. The room itself was stuffier than usual, giving her the distinct feeling of being suffocated.

How could she even have catered to the idea of having feelings for Remy when Bobby proved yet again to be her perfect match? She reminded herself once again that she loved Bobby. She wanted a future with him.

The stifling air only worsened for her when Remy entered the room and sat down, not beside her, but beside Bobby. She had no idea what she was doing anymore. He's Bobby's friend she scolded herself. Whatever he had been to her months ago was no longer the present case.

They had been given new roles, a brand new start and Rogue was just going to have to get over it.

It was hard to get over it when she caught sight of his long legs stretching out comfortably in front of him. He was much taller than Bobby, she noted silently. Calmer too. With everything Remy had at stake, he seemed to be very comfortable and laidback in the meeting room.

Bobby, on the other hand, fidgeted anxiously while pouring over pages of notes he had obviously written down last night. Rogue sighed. That was the Bobby of now. The old Bobby would have been leaning back in his chair, calm and collected like Remy, but now Bobby was so wound up that he reminded her more of Scott Summers than himself.

All at once, Remy abruptly stood up from his seat and took a few quick, graceful steps over to a photograph hanging on the wall. It was odd that he would move to that particular photograph just as her mind had wandered back to her old mentors, particularly Scott.

She knew the photo he was inspecting well. Everyone here at the institute did. It had been taken just shortly after she and Bobby had graduated and became full-fledged X-men. It had also been the first photo taken after Jean Grey's 'first' death. Marie hesitated to move beside him and explain the photo, wondering if Bobby would get up and do it.

Remy stared at the picture of the young man with the dark red glasses. He was older in the picture than when Remy had first seen him in person. The photo captured him in his early twenties rather than his late teens. He had bulked out some, but Remy recognized him almost immediately. It was a rare trait, remembering faces regardless of how fleeting their images had been, but it was one Remy used often and to his advantage.

Right now he was simply shocked to see that he recognized at least two men, not counting Logan, in the photo. The bald man in the chair and the man with the red glasses he'd seen before. Both had been on the island and both had been trying to help the mutants escape when he had been there with Wolverine years ago.

Remy's fingers gently traced the glass overtop the bald man's image. He was filled with a deep sense of regret that he couldn't quite explain. If Remy had left with the bald man that day and made himself known, he would have met Marie much sooner.

She looked about eighteen in the photo. Not that much younger than the man with the red glasses—which meant that she wasn't that much younger than Remy. They were only off by five or so years. Had he left with that man instead of on his own, Remy could have married Marie instead.

As he stood there looking at the photo, it was like looking at a future that might have been had he only made different choices back then. He had never thought of how interconnected everything was in his youth, had never thought for a second that the choices he made could or would lead to regret.

He had always gotten by and landed on his feet. It had never occurred to him that there was something better out there for mutants, or that he could actually settle down in one place or for that matter, want to stay in one place.

He'd been a vagabond since the day he could walk and scoundrel since he could talk. He'd been a grifter, a liar and a cheat, a con man and a pitchman, a magician and a thief, but he'd never been part of a team.

He tried to imagine himself in the photo, smiling, with friends and comrades, knowing that he was a part of something that was much bigger than just himself. He'd be standing just behind Marie and beside Bobby, maybe he'd even have a hand slung lazily around Marie's waist, or Bobby would have his hand placed solidly on his shoulder, marking their friendship.

"That's Scott," her voice answered behind him, identifying the man with the glasses where his finger now laid. "He was one of Xavier's first students. This picture was taken after Bobby and I graduated… and after our first battle with casualties. Scott was never the same."

Neither was Bobby. She wanted to add, but with Bobby sitting in the room Marie knew it was inappropriate. It had been the battle at Alkali Lake, up in Canada, fighting an old enemy of Wolverine's where Jean had lost her life and Bobby had lost his best friend after his family.

William Stryker was the man responsible. He had taken so many things from so many mutants during that battle and even though the team had come out victorious, they still had losses to mourn. She'd learned a lot about friends and enemies during that time. She'd learned a lot about herself and what she wanted to do with her life.

She wanted to stop people like William Stryker.

"Did you know William Stryker?" she asked Remy. It was a logical question; he'd known Logan before she had so it made sense that he might have known the man who had experimented on Wolverine and many other mutants.

"Not personally and only by name," Remy answered, not really wanting to recall his days in Stryker's prison. "Why do you ask?"

"This picture was taken after we fought Stryker, and Logan got back some of his lost memories. He didn't know your name yesterday, but he knew your face, so I thought maybe you knew each other around the time they experimented on him."

"Can't say for sure."

"Why not?"

"Because, Chere, I had no idea he'd been experimented on. What I do know is he sought me out first. He was looking for revenge and blood, and I was the only man that could lead him to it."

"And did you?" Marie asked almost horrified.

"Oui," Remy answered darkly. "And not once have I ever regretted it. Those people on that island deserved it."

Rogue swallowed hard. There was no doubt that something had happened to Remy to make him feel so strongly about revenge. She knew that Logan had been wild, almost feral long before she had met him and long before he'd come to Xavier's. She shuddered deeply, knowing that whatever had happened on that island years ago, Wolverine had put a bloody end to.

She wanted to ask Remy more questions, but to her surprise, he'd closed himself off from her and moved back to his seat beside Bobby. What a contrast it was to see the two together. One shrouded in mystery and secrets, the other open like a bold print book. It was then that Logan entered the room and Marie had no choice but to sit back down.

More pressing concerns were about to be addressed and Remy's shaded past would have to wait.

Author's note: The poem Marie is referring to that reminds her of Remy is the "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. It's always been a favourite poem of mine.

Boy, does it feel good to be back! Once again my deepest apologies for the wait on this chapter! I promise no more two-week waits. My crazy summer is fast coming to a close, and for all those wondering, the bachelorette and wedding went very well and were lots of fun. I've got one wedding left to attend, which means that I can update regularly again. Hooray!

Once again, thank you all for your patience, and for those rare few – please, no more death threats! They are a bit discouraging to receive even if they are meant in jest. :)