In case any of you'd like to read it, I've started a Hallowe'en-esque Romy story, Black is the Color, accessible through my fanfiction. net page, http/www. This is the same thing that in my –last- Author's Note I said would be a one-off? Yeah, I was SO kidding myself. I've never written a one-off in my life! At least, not that I'm aware of. If you know otherwise, please let me know.

Eileen—just 'cos you asked, there's a bit in here Just For You (but the rest of you go ahead and enjoy it, too :) ).

Starts off a little sad at the X-mansion, but less sad than the last time we saw them all… then, back to the Romy action!

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Xanadu

by Alara

Chapter 12: "Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,"

Kitty Pryde really hated living in a mansion sometimes. She had been searching it for an hour, now, looking for Kurt, but the place was so big that when someone made up his mind to hide, he could hide. Especially if he had the ability to teleport when he heard someone coming… fortunately for her, sort of, Kurt was so wrapped up in his sadness that he didn't hear her approach. Of course, it helped that she could phase through any objects—like the door—and make no sound. She finally saw him, perched on the balcony of an empty room, starting sightlessly out across the grounds. His sadness was obvious; his tail, his shoulders, even his fur drooped.

"Kurt?" She said softly to his back. For a moment, he didn't move, then twisted a tear-streaked face around to see her. "Oh, Kurt… I know…" She crossed to him then, and hugged him tightly.

"I'm really getting better, most of the time I don't miss her so much, it doesn't hurt at all to think of her usually, but on a day like today…" Kurt sighed. "She vould be eighteen today, Kitty…" he said miserably. "Eighteen. She had so many things she wanted to do when she turned eighteen… The first thing, she said, was to get a new drivers' license so she didn't have the same picture she had when she was fifteen… She planned to visit Caldecott again, did you know that? She wanted to see if almost-five years away had changed anything there. She wanted to make her peace with Irene. She wanted—" he choked out a watery laugh "—she wanted to steal Logan's motorcycle for a few hours, because he just might let her get away with it, for her birthday. And now she won't. She won't do any of those things. She'll never get control over her powers, like she promised herself she'd do; she'll never go to college or anything. I miss her so much, sometimes."

Kitty was crying, too. "I know, Kurt. And I'm sad she'll never get married—she did want to get married someday, did you know that? She told me that once. I'm sad she'll never again, like, stand up to the rest of you guys about Lance and me; I'm sad she'll never make us that special hot chocolate she used to make around Christmas. I miss her too."

As do I, children, they heard Professor X's voice in their heads. But Rogue, as isolated and sad as she could be, never wanted anyone else to feel that way—especially not for them to be sad over her. Because of that, and in memoriam of her, we are having a final birthday party for Rogue, so that we remember her for her wonderful inner qualities, not the sad, spiky exterior she showed the outside world. I'm asking everyone to come up with one nice thing Rogue did for them, something the others might not know about, so that we remember her as she truly was, not just as she appeared to be.

The 'feel' of Professor X left their minds, and Kitty and Kurt looked soberly at each other for a moment, then, slowly, began to smile. "That sounds nice," Kitty said. "Doesn't it?"

"Ja. The Professor is right." Kurt said resolutely, lifting his head and determinedly wiping his tears away. "Rogue wouldn't want us to waste our lives being sad over her; she'd want us to get on with our lives. Let's go put our heads together and come up with some really great Rogue stories, huh?"

Kitty smiled at him. "Sounds like a great idea."

In his office, Professor X leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and sighed. He'd heard the tenor of Kurt and Kitty's thoughts, of course—they were along the same lines as everyone else's thoughts today, once everyone had realized it would have been Rogue's birthday. Echoing the teens' thoughts, he thought to himself, I'm sorry we'll never get to see what heights you might have risen to, Rogue. If you could have controlled your powers, you could have been one of the most powerful mutants on the face of the Earth. I failed you in that endeavor, as I failed to have my X-Men rescue you, and I'm sorry. You were such a bright young woman, with such potential and promise… Now, you are only a very, very dear memory. I promise you, and I hope I can keep this promise at least; I will never let another of my students down as I feel that I let you down while you were alive. I feel especially guilty since I did not realize, until I really thought about it, how much you did for me even while I was unable to help you.

So we shall try to make this birthday a good celebration for you, Rogue… I hope you're watching over us.

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The next morning, nearly three states away, unaware of the turmoil her birthday yesterday had caused her former family, Rogue awoke in an unusual state: Refreshed, relaxed, and happy. The morning sunlight was golden, and reflected the snow outside beautifully. The apartment was warm, a nice contrast to the winter day outside. She lay there for a moment, contented, not thinking anything in particular, then stretched, rose, and padded downstairs to get the morning's coffee ready. About fifteen minutes later, Remy dragged down, his hair tangled and mussed from sleep. She watched as he collected a coffee mug, filled it, and slid onto the stool across the counter from her. She watched him carefully, waiting for the prefect time to make her comment.

"So," she said casually, chin in her hand, as he lifted the steaming mug to his lips and took a long drink, "the women from the office last night wanted to know how wild in bed you are, Cajun." With her other hand she stirred her own coffee, not taking her eyes off of his face.

His eyes popped wide open over the mug, and his cheeks swelled suddenly as he coughed with his mouth closed, nearly choking on the drink. With some difficulty he swallowed, putting the mug securely on the counter, and still coughing, asked, "Dey were what?"

She fixed him with a Cheshire cat grin. "Ya heard me, Cajun."

"Dose office women were a bad influence on you, chere," he scolded with a smile, pointing his spoon at her. "You weren't dis mean before you started working wit' dem."

She grinned back at him, sipping her coffee. She waited 'til he was just taking another sip, and said, "So. Are you wild in bed?"

This time, he did snort his coffee out his nose and mock glared at her. "Chere, y' better get dat smart ass o' yours out o' dis kitchen, or I'm not r'sponsible for my actions." He warned, and laughing, she went upstairs to shower and change.

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A week later, they were at the local mall, ostensibly buying items for their move to New Orleans in a few months. In reality, Rogue was still searching for a Christmas present for Remy, and he was pretending not to notice—and pretending not to drop any hints. Seeing her eyes go back to a certain store several times, he excused himself to the restroom so she could buy whatever-it-was without him.

When he got back to the store, she was nowhere to be found. Trying not to panic, he calmly asked the store clerk if he'd seen…? Why, yes, he had, and the pretty woman with the unusual hair had left just a moment ago, with a man in a trenchcoat and spiky hair…

He thanked the clerk, turned on one heel, and bolted out of the store, looking for a trenchcoat amongst the pre-Christmas shopping crowds. He couldn't see any trenchcoat… Then common sense reasserted itself, and he wanted to smack himself in the head for his stupidity. His empathic sense; if he knew someone's empathic 'feel' well enough, he could use it to find that person, sort of like emotional radar. After spending how much time with her, as well as aiding her in controlling her powers, if he didn't know her empathic signature, he didn't know his own.

He paused in the mall's crowded hallway, and let his empathic sense flow out over the crowd. He skillfully ignored all the shopping-related anxiety, and boy wasn't that woman pissed about the sale she'd missed, and that kid was about to throw a screaming fit, and –

There, to his left, down the way a bit. His eyes went where the sense told him to look, and there, for an instant, he caught a glimpse of auburn-and-white hair, and eyes of an intense gray-green.

An instant's glimpse was enough; not for nothing was he Jean-Luc LeBeau's son. He'd followed less distinctive people through worse crowds than this while on no sleep for five days. And those less distinctive people weren't half so important to him… He caught up with them in a few moments, just in time for the spiky-haired guy—who had a loose grip on Rogue's arm—to greet a petite red-haired woman, who flashed an—FBI badge?—at Rogue as the pair approached her.

"—listen, I really don't think I can talk to you," Rogue was saying to the pair, as he approached the group; she was facing the direction he was approaching, which put the agents' backs to him. Her eyes flicked over him, but did not stop on him. She gave no indication that she recognized anyone in the crowd. Smart, chere.

"Look, we know there's something…weird…going on with you and that guy," the spiky-haired guy said. "Just tell us what it is, I promise I'll believe you."

"Even if I told you there's some weird paramilitary psychotic conspiracy to capture people believed to be mutants and perform freakish experiments on them?" Rogue asked, so sarcastically it should have etched the floor beneath them.

"Weird conspiracies and freakish experimentation are his specialty," the redhead said dryly. "If he says he'll believe you, he'll believe you."

"But we really want to talk to your friend, too," the man said. "Any idea where we can find him?"

"How 'bout right behind you, homme?" Remy said, putting the muzzle of his gun right against the guy's back. He froze as the redhead flinched around, moving to draw her own piece, but Remy waved his free hand at her, warning her not to try it. "Look, I don't want to be shooting anyone, but you two have gone and walked off with de femme, here, and, well, she's got de bus passes. What is it you want?"

The redhead very carefully reached into her pocket, keeping her gun in Remy's sight as she pulled out a wallet with an ID card that was becoming all too familiar to the Cajun; it read "Dana Scully". Pretty soon I'll be able to forge m' own, seen so many genuine articles. "My name is Fox Mulder," the man said over his shoulder. "I'm an agent of the—"

"FBI, I know, so what else is new? You going to let de femme go?"

"We're not keeping her," the redhead said, sounding surprised. "We really did just want to talk to her, but once he begins asking questions, people usually start getting upset. We didn't want to cause a panic in the middle of a crowded shopping mall."

"You're not keeping her? Oh." Remy dropped the gun back into the pocket of his duster, where it was still within easy reach, and came around the Mulder guy to stand beside Rogue. "Sorry 'bout the gun, den, homme."

Rogue looked from one tense face to another, rolled her eyes, and said, "Why don't we all go get a cup of coffee instead o' standing here like a bunch of lunatics? We're attracting attention."

Scully glanced around and nodded. "Good point. Let's go and quit being such obvious Federal agents… We're not exactly supposed to be here, you know…" She gave Mulder a wry look.

"What, you're not supposed to talk to people in the Witness Protection Program?" Rogue asked, and the agents stared in faint horror at her and Remy.

"You're in the Program? Shit." Mulder muttered to himself.

"Ya didn't know? Don't you people talk to each other?" Rogue asked, exasperated. "Great. Now I really need that coffee."

"Me, too." Scully said, looking chagrined. "OK. We're going to pretend you did not just tell us that, and go on from there, all right?"

Rogue and Remy exchanged a quick glance. She lifted her eyebrows; he shrugged in reply. "Sure." He said. "But you're buying the coffee."

"Deal," Mulder said gratefully, and the odd quartet moved off toward the food court.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Well, that was the strangest cup of coffee I've ever had in my life," Rogue commented later, as they entered their apartment. The agents had dropped them off a few minutes earlier.

"Sure was," Remy agreed. "Who knew the Federal Government spent money for people to investigate t'ings that go bump in de night?"

"Shoulda seen it coming, actually," Rogue mused. "But still—sending a couple of FBI agents to question a couple of nobodies about whether there are ghosts in the house they're living in? Isn't that a waste of tax dollars?"

"Actually, I think it's de federal budget their salary comes from," Remy mused out loud. "But anyway. What are you making for dinner?"

"It's your turn, Cajun."

"No, it's not."

"Sure is."

"Non!"

"Oui," she mocked him, "and it had better be good!" Impudently, she stuck her tongue out at him, and headed for the stairs before he could start chasing her.

"Chere, you're asking for trouble." He called up the stairs. "But I'll make de dinner anyway. Remember—you just put me in charge of your food tonight!" He laughed maniacally as he got the pans out.

Upstairs, Rogue cut herself off mid-giggle as she realized that she had, indeed, put him in charge of whatever she was going to eat tonight. "Oh boy," she muttered to herself. "I just hope he isn't too mean, lacing my dinner with Tabasco sauce… I did ask for it."

Later that night, she was obliged to eat nearly an entire loaf of bread to cool her burning mouth and throat.

That's the last time I make some smart comment right before dinner, she promised herself before she went to sleep. The last time.

Unless it's an opportunity I can't pass up… The thought made her smile, and she drifted off.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Review Replies:

Ishandahalf— Yes, Mr. Straub is a dastard (yes that's really a word!), and he proved it! And glad my Remy made you squeal. G Yeah… Rogue isn't her own name either, and she wouldn't necessarily stick –exactly- with what the Feds picked for her, but something similar… really. It's all justified and makes sense and all (at least I think so!). So… I'll think about keeping her 'rogue'…haven't made my final decision yet.

sakura5tar—Happy you're liking this so much! Please keep reading!

Nettlez—LOL. That's two reviewers in a row who were like, "Yay Remy Knight in Shining" something. :)

bored247—There will be a good reason for her to not contact the mansion (besides the obvious) soon, and in fact, you all already know it! Muahahahhaaa. Keep reading!

chicita—No, I wasn't lost… just busy… but here's another chapter. :)

Canuck—your birthday? Wow. I've got innately good timing… :) Glad you liked the car-conversation… I'm happy my characters' growth and change makes sense (to someone anyway…) Thanks for reading!

Sweety8587—Ahh… the 'easiness' between our couple is going to get shaken in a bit… muhahaha. That's all the warning you're getting!

A.M.bookworm247—Happiness brings you to the verge of tears? Uhm? (and, except for my fic? LOL.) Ooh. Such nice words; balanced, superb… (sing-songs:)Have you been reading your thesaurus? Oh, and no worries about a Mary-Sue… if it were one of those, everyone would run screaming :) And, hey! You can learn from fanfic… See, I don't write fanfic just to write what I'd like to see happen, I write it to explore how people interact when you can play with the rules (like Alphabet Organizations and mutants). Thanks for reading, please do continue!

FluidDegree—Aaach, Nope. Sorry. They're not hopping into bed anytime soon… If you've ever been through a traumatic situation, I don't care how large your attachment to someone is, the last thing you want to do is shift things in such a big way. If you want to see 'em hopping into bed (metaphysically at least), go read Black is the Color. :) Shameless plug!

sheisbeautiful-sheisnotme—ok! One person who thinks the interchanged names are OK! Woot…. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Lucy Wood—Thanks for reading!

Les723— Thanks for reading!

Shaishe—Thanks for reading!

Ladyflame13—Thanks for reading!

fallen214—Thanks for reading!

Iwant2goFAST— You sing for Disney? How'd you get into that? Me, I'm trying out for an exclusive local chamber group… I think I'll be the youngest by about 15 years if I make it in… Here's hoping they need a coloratura soprano! Anyway, thanks for reading & reviewing!

Marie—You know you can put me on Author Alert if you have a ff. net account…? Just so you don't have to check and check and check if some story you like has been updated… Thanks for reading!

enchantedlight— Thanks for reading!

Cat2fat900—Working on the Romyness… it's coming… slowly :) Thanks for reading!

Tenshi no Yami—Who's your friend? I'll give him/her a shoutout for recommending my fic to you! "Angel of Darkness," is that what your name means?

DeadSparrow—I likes me Remy. :) Thanks for reading!

sunspotmisery—Ahh always glad to have the nuances picked up on… that Remy totally gave Rogue and the ladies credit for being able to wipe the floor with Straub, but then they'd get their pretty dresses dirty… Thanks for reading!

Eissalande—Well, I highly hope your interest doesn't lag! Thanks for reading!