A/N: Someone asked why I've not been updating my site. The short answer is I've been lazy about it recently. But the site is just a backup in case the fics here are ever purged. The actual fic contents are the same between the two places, though there's some bonus items like polls, pics, and notes for anyone interested.

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Chapter 13

Remy leisurely stretched in bed as he slowly woke up. It had been so nice to have a bed completely to himself again while he was gone that he hadn't been about to sneak into his room late last night when he returned only to have to sleep on top of the covers again. So instead, he pushed past the fatigue of the last few days and stayed up the extra few hours.

After securing Shakespeare's hair in the vault and leaving a note on his father's desk, he headed to the master thief training room and worked his tired body into the mid-morning. Once he was sure Rogue would be up for the day, he sneaked upstairs, pulled the blackout curtains shut, and relaxed into his once again oversized bed.

Now that he'd had some time to relax, he reflected over the heist well done. Remy had figured out the contre-temps part of the assignment when he realized the only time the damn thing was not guarded was during the five minutes at noon that the daytime security officer spent in the loo after lunch.

Five minutes to sneak in and out seemed like a piece of cake. But the room had double redundant security and cracking both the bio-scanner (easy) and vault lock (harder) had been a true test of his skills. By the time Remy had left, he'd only had half a minute to spare and blend back in with the latest tour group. Believe it or not, it actually had been a bit stressful to a master thief like him. He'd even sweated a little there at the end.

Rolling onto his stomach and sprawling out as much as he could, Remy luxuriated in the last few minutes of hogging the covers before he resigned himself to getting up. A few hours of restful sleep and he was up just in time for opening kickoff in the Saints game.

Crawling out of bed, he headed over to his closet to find his lucky game-day jersey. Every time he wore it, the Saints won. He'd even gone as far as not washing it in 2010 and the team went on to win the Super Bowl. But when his black number 43 Sproles jersey wasn't in its usual place, he started rummaging through his closet.

After only a few minutes, it was evident that the shirt wasn't where he normally kept it. Frustrated, Remy pulled out a plain black tee and his relaxed fit jeans before slamming the door shut and heading into the bathroom. He'd find Tante after he'd rinsed off and brushed his teeth.

Since he'd showered after training earlier in the morning, it didn't take him long to go through his morning routine and get dressed. He decided to start in the kitchen even though Tante usually didn't have to worry about cooking lunch during the NFL season. When he didn't find her in there, he figured he'd ask his brother if she was around.

Heading into the media room, he found Henri, Mercy, Emil, Theoren, a few other higher ranking thieves, and of course his seemingly ever present wife. And what was she wearing? Why none other than his missing Sproles jersey.

Walking up behind the sectional where she was sitting next to Mercy, he pinched a handful of the jersey's shoulder as he roughly tugged on it. "I think this belongs t' me." His voice was stony.

Rogue jumped a little at the unexpected contact, but set her jaw in a clench when she recognized Remy's voice. Slowly turning, she looked up at him and said, "Ah think it don't."

She'd always been impressed by Sproles' skills. But when the San Diego Chargers released him and the Saints picked him up, he became her favorite guy. She loved watching him play since his relatively short 5'6" stature could dive through the smallest openings or fly over a defensive line for an amazing touchdown.

Remembering his father's words, he quietly demanded, "Give it back."

Fury flashed in Rogue's eyes, but she matched his tone as she flatly answered, "No."

"Now!" Remy whisper-yelled, expectantly holding out his hand.

So far, only Mercy and Henri were aware of their interaction. Everyone else was enjoying the spread of chips, dips, pizza, beer, hot wings, and the pre-game show. Wanting to keep the room's relative good mood, Rogue wordlessly stood up, ripped the jersey over her head, and flung it at his chest before storming off.

Though she'd left quickly, Remy still got an eyeful of the sinfully tight black tank stretched over her braless breasts and the short Saints booty shorts that clung to the toned curves of her thighs and butt. Even with the black leggings and sequined gold gloves covering the rest of her skin, a twitch stirred in his jeans. Chocking it up to not having had sex in weeks, he suppressed the sudden desire.

"Well thanks for suckin' de fun out of de room." Mercy mouthed off, remaining seated on the couch next to Henri. She wouldn't even turn around to face him. "Could y' be any more of a selfish prick?"

"What de hell did I do? It's my damn jersey!" Remy cried a little too loudly.

The others in the room looked over at him. He and Mercy played it cool for a minute until the focus was off of them again.

"Do y' even know anythin' 'bout yo' wife?" Finally, she spun around to face him. Her knees were digging into the cushion as she raised up to add some height. "Do y' even care?"

Mercy suspected the truth, but Remy's silence confirmed it. Though she hadn't really been let in on what happened at the chapterhouse the day of the wedding, she did know that Rogue was in a somewhat similar situation as she had been.

It had taken a year of steady dating before Henri would even agree to bring her home to meet his family. After that, Henri had taken another year to propose and it was another two years after that when they finally trusted her enough to reveal their thieving background and set a wedding date. Having grown up with an abusive father and a drug addicted mother who had left in the middle of the night, Mercy thought the thieves were mild compared to the hell she'd already been through. While the thieves weren't exactly the life she would have chosen for herself, Mercy was grateful for the loving family she gained and the sense of security that no one would ever hurt her again.

From the little bit she'd gotten to know Rogue, the newest addition to the LeBeau family had the same story. She didn't have warm and fuzzy childhood memories of a loving, supportive family. The life she was thrust into wasn't one she would have chosen for herself. She'd made a lot of concessions to please everyone else, but didn't seem to have ever had the opportunity to do what made her happy. And now that she was away from the influence of the assassins', she was still living as if her life was under a microscope of expectations and obligations. Her adjustment period would be just as slow, but Mercy hoped in the end she would come to find the same love and security.

"Y' know," She kept her voice low so the others wouldn't overhear. "If y' even tried t' get t' know her, y' might find y' actually like her. Y' deux have a lot in common. Like Sproles bein' yo' favorite player."

Remy simply stared down his sister-in-law until she huffed and turned back around on the couch. When he was sure no one was looking, he surreptitiously checked the size on the jersey. His was an XL, but this one was a medium. It really was Rogue's, but she'd given it over after he'd acted like a fool. Why would she back down when she knew she was right? It was yet another mystery about her that he needed to unravel.

Bunching the jersey in his hand, he left the room and headed back upstairs. Though he wasn't thrilled about it, he did owe Rogue an apology. When he made it up to their room, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Instead of seeking her out, Remy decided that he'd just apologize the next time he saw her and opted for watching the game by himself.

He flipped on the 92" flat screen before heading to the wet bar for a beer and his favorite ice cream. Opening the mini fridge, Remy was met with an empty spot where the little tub of pralines and cream usually sat. He slammed the door shut with one hand as he pounded the counter with the other before striding back to couch and flopping down with his beer. The apology that was on the tip of his tongue moments before went up in smoke as he thought about another tongue lashing instead.

Hearing the noise, Rogue abandoned the search for her Geaux Saints tee and walked into the common room. She was still wearing the black tank and shorties.

"What the hell was that?" She asked, her eyes darting around the room trying to figure out what was going on.

Remy startled at her voice, thinking he was alone in the suite. "Dieu! Where de fuck have y' been?"

Rogue's hands landed on her hips as she leveled a sardonic stare at him, one eyebrow quirked up. "In my closet, tryin' ta find a different shirt."

At least he had the good sense to look sheepish for a moment as he tossed the jersey at her. He watched as she deftly caught it without a word. Before the words 'I'm sorry' could follow, he remembered the missing ice cream.

"Did y' eat my pralines and cream?" He calmly asked.

For the first time since he'd known her, Rogue actually looked guilty as she focused on the plant in the corner instead of on him. "Yeah, while ya were gone. Ah begged Tante for a ride on Saturday so Ah could buy ya some more, but Ah forgot 'bout bringin' it up 'til now."

She shivered suddenly, bringing her hands up to vigorously rub her exposed upper arms. Many of the manor's rooms had their own thermostat and Remy's suite was one of them. It was much colder in here than the rest of the house.

He watched as chill bumps rose up on her bare skin. The thin tank did nothing to hide the tightening nipples on her full breasts. The whole outfit screamed college co-ed, minus the leggings and gloves of course. And while he never went to college, he fondly remembered two delectable nights with a few of Xavier's* more adventurous sophomores. The look was cute, hot even as the familiar rush of blood to his groin attested.

Angry at himself for his wandering thoughts, Remy took it out on Rogue. "It wasn't yo's t' take."

"Ah said Ah'm sorry!" The fire simmered to life under the surface of Rogue's exclamation.

Remy jumped up off the couch. "Non, actually all y' said was that y' ate it and bought a new one. Mais, y' never said y' were sorry."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she cocked her hip. "Ah would think the fact that Ah bought ya a new tub would indicate that Ah didn't do it maliciously."

"Non, that could indicate a lot a' things, like y' were hopin' y' wouldn't get caught." Remy countered.

"Fine. Whatever ya think. Have it yer way." Rogue threw her arms up in the air as she spun around into the bedroom.

Having already had enough with the jersey incident downstairs, she just didn't want to deal with him any longer. She could feel a headache coming on, but she needed to change before she could find peace somewhere else. She tossed on the closest shirt available as she left the bedroom.

"Have fun bein' by yerself t'day. It seems ta be what ya always want." Rogue threw at him, storming out of the room before he could respond.

Now in a sour mood, Remy sulked over how she'd ruined the excitement and anticipation he had over the game. Going downstairs to make meaningless bets with his brother didn't hold its typical interest either. Kicking his feet up on the coffee table, he chugged down a couple gulps of his beer before slamming it down on the side table and crossing his arms in a huff. It seemed even his best intentions were backfiring against him now.

(X)-(X)-(X)

It had been at least three days since Bella Donna had left the compound. She figured she was making about 15 miles a day, but the blinding fog that she woke up to each morning was so completely disorienting that she didn't know until it cleared out if she was still heading west. Even after that confirmation, she had no clue if she'd strayed north or south from her course. For all she knew, she could have backtracked inland two miles and swerved the other thirteen instead of heading in a straight line. At least the sand dunes had changed from the golden orange she'd first encountered to a pale brown. Hopefully that meant she was getting close to the edge of the desert. The freezing nights followed by the scorching days were wrecking her skin and hair. It would take days of expensive spa treatments to get back to her pampered self.

While she'd been switching between extra layers and hardly anything at all, she fortunately hadn't had to worry about food. There were plenty of gemsboks around for the hunt. The African antelope meat was tender and smooth, like a fine venison steak. The only thing it was missing was some good Cajun seasonings. Unfortunately, her kill usually drew hyenas and jackals. Belle had to quickly take her cut and flee if she didn't want to waste the energy taking down the predators. Once safely away, she made up her survival base camp and settled in to roast it over a fire.

While she ate, she was able to figure out another advantage to having the gemsboks around: location. She now knew she was in Southern Africa and the decision to head west had been a good one. The desert that surrounded her was either the Namib or Kalahari. If it was the former, she'd hit the coast and have to walk north or south to the nearest town. If the latter, she'd run into the nearest town before she ran out of desert. No matter which, she should be home within the next few days, a week tops.

Now that she wasn't tied to a chair with a disgusting insect of a man groping her, she'd also had some time to clear her head and think. Renault had said her father instructed him to take care of her, but that just didn't make sense. She was her father's pride and joy. There was no way he would be involved in the abuse to which she'd been subjected. Besides, Marius had been pushing for a marriage between the Thieves and Assassins Guilds for as long as she could remember. It was why she'd been allowed to get away with so much with Remy.

So that only led her to the conclusion that Renault had acted on his own. But his crucifix clearly identified him as one of the Assassins' priests. He would know that any action against Marius's daughter would be viewed as a direct action against Marius himself. And Belle knew of no one who lived to tell stories of betrayal. Even lies devised to pump up a reputation were met with swift retribution. Staring down certain death, why ever would Renault kidnap her and then not take full advantage of her if his motive had simply been personal lust?

No matter how many times she went over it in her head, Belle decided she had to be missing a piece of the puzzle. And the only way she was going to get that piece was to make it back home as soon as possible. She'd describe her ordeal to her father and piece it together with his point of view of the events. Together, they'd ferret out the details and there'd be no one left who was involved in Renault's plot that wouldn't be rightly punished.

Belle glanced up at the sun, trying to gauge both time and direction. Deciding she was still on track and had several more hours of daylight, she trudged on hoping the end was near.

(X)

*Xavier University of Lousiana at New Orleans