Don't kill me for the lateness and shortness of this chapter *ducks tomatoes*. In my defense, it was my birthday and I was out of town in New Orleans. No, unfortunately I did NOT find Gambit. I fully intended on locking him in my basement until he developed Stockholm Syndrome, but no such luck :( So, enjoy the next chapter and I'll update quicker next time.

Also, for those of you that are also reading Secrets of the Hierarchy, as that story is winding down, I'm trying to plan my next, so let me know - do you prefer the more serious, darker Secrets of the Hierarchy, or a more light hearted drama like The Only Exception? Leave in the comments :)

I don't own them.

Three hours later, high metabolism aside, Remy was pretty drunk. He'd found a nearby hole in the wall and proceeded to drown his problems in bourbon. He had just turned the fourth consecutive blonde down when he sensed someone plop down in the stool beside his. He turned towards the figure to meet the back of said-person's head, covered in long, chestnut curls. He ran a timid hand down the ends of her tresses and asked hopefully, "chére?"

A pretty girl turned towards him at his touch and his face dropped. "Wow," she commented, "I didn't think I looked that bad when I left the house tonight."

"Non, désolé," he apologized. "Just thought yo' were someone else." He raised his head towards the girl. Though she was missing a white streak and had hazel eyes instead of luminous green ones, she looked quite similar to his Rogue. He wondered for a moment if they felt the same, or tasted the same. Not that it mattered since she dumped his Cajun ass, he thought bitterly. He checked his phone one more time to see that there was still no apologies or pleading for him to come back. He was jerked out of his thoughts when he noticed a warm hand on his bare arm.

"You okay? You look kind of sad," she pouted. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked suggestively, stroking his arm.

He stared at where she was touching him for a moment, trying to remember the last time he'd had skin on skin contact. It was something that you didn't notice so much until you no longer had the luxury. He wondered if Rogue even remembered what skin felt like at this point. Even though he wanted to be fuming, his heart still ached for her a little when he thought about that. Then his mind went back to the ugly things she had said to him. He loved her. And he actually admitted it. It was practically the eighth wonder of the world, and she spat at it. Frustrated, he tossed back the rest of his drink. "Did yo' want t'get outta here, cherie?" he asked, pasting a smirk on his face.

Rogue stared up at her ceiling in the dark, still unable to find sleep. Their fight played over and over again in her head, and the more she replayed it, the guiltier she felt. He'd told her that he loved her. Though Remy was a man of secrets, she had gotten to know enough about him to know that love was an extremely difficult thing for him to feel, let alone say. And he'd said it to her just to have it stuffed back down his throat.

A silent tear ran down her cheek as her eyes desperately searched the ceiling for some kind of answer. She was wrong, she knew it. She didn't even tell him why she was feeling how she was, she just yelled at him. She sighed when she thought about all of the horrible things she'd accused him of that she knew weren't true. In the heat of the moment, it just seemed easier to push him away than to risk losing herself and hurting him. And now, she'd hurt them both. With a sudden urge to fix this, she shot up out of bed and left her room. She had to get to him – explain why she had said those things and apologize. Maybe it wasn't too late to fix this. Remy was the first man to be patient enough with her to even attempt a relationship, and as much as she tried to deny it, she'd fallen in love with him as well. She found herself in a half sprint to his door.

Rogue went to knock on the door when she heard a thump against the door. She stopped, fist hovering in front of the door and listened in. Was that… a woman's voice? Surely not even Remy LeBeau would be screwing some stranger a few hours after their fight, would he? 'Oh god, Remy,' echoed faintly through the door as her answer.

Meanwhile…

Remy snuck the girl who's name he couldn't remember, though he was sure she'd told him along the way, into his room with the stealth of a thief. As soon as the door closed he was pressing her against it, hungrily tasting her mouth. Sadly, she did not taste like Rogue. Between his drunken state and the darkness of the room, he could almost pretend he was looking at her when he pulled back, his hips still pressing her against the door. He was silently willing her to be someone else when she purred at him, "what's wrong?"

He winced. The lack of a sweet Southern twang almost made him lose his hard on that the girl was now stroking roughly. Remy closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of her hand, grabbing him over his boxer briefs. Rogue could grab him like this. This was feasible. With that, he went back to kissing her, this time opting for her neck, pushing aside long locks of chestnut that didn't smell quite right. He slipped a hand up her skirt and just before he reached his destination she moaned, "Oh god, Remy."

** Rogue began to subconsciously thrust her hips into his moving fingers, causing her backside to grind against Remy's already throbbing hard on. "Oh god, Remy," she whimpered as she rubbed against him, causing him to feel like he might explode at any moment with her.**

He pushed away from the stranger as if he had just touched fire. The girl looked at him, bewildered. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I can't do dis. Yo' gotta go," Remy said, fixing his pants.

"Are you serious?"

"Oui. Désolé, yo' gotta go," he repeated, ignoring the fuming look on her face. He reached passed her and opened the door to find a stunned and tear-filled Rogue at his doorstep.