Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, Remy, Rogue, The Pirates of the Carribbean, the moon, the stars, the grass, the air...

Written place during "XTreme Measures"

This isn't war
But these are still battles
"A Hoax to Live For," Dead Poetic

X

The secret of acting is sincerity. If you can fake that, you've got it made.
George Burns

Chere, hope you enjoyed making some trouble with me. Thought you might appreciate the chance to poke a little fun at the new lovebirds. So, tell me, did you feel it when I slipped this note in your pocket? Wonder why that was…

About our next meeting, I know a nice little hole in the wall restaurant down town: The Dribble Inn. I think it's close to where your friend will be skating. Meet me there around twelve tomorrow, and we'll have our little question and answer session. Let's get this settled, chere. After all, why waste time when there are so many fun thing we could be doing together? And if I recall, you still need to show me how spoiled I can be.

Until then,

Remy

XxX

Slipping away from Evan's skating match wasn't very hard. All she needed to do was slip off the bleachers and walk casually towards the port-a-potties before changing directions--casually--and walking towards the street. Rogue felt a passing stab of guilt at leaving before seeing him perform, but there had been a perfect opportunity and she took it.

Besides, it's not as if Ah don't get ta see him skate all the time, she thought with a wry reflection on the many times that Ororo had reprimanded Evan for skating down the stairs in the mansion.

Rogue took her time strolling through the streets. She had barely given herself a chance to think about meeting Remy. Kitty had been watching her carefully after they got back, and she had to do her best to project her normal indifference--after all, she was the Rogue, she had lived with the Brotherhood, she fought hard and she fought dirty, and she was afraid of nothing and no one. Certainly being greeted by one of Magneto's Acolytes would only be a pebble dropping in her pond…right? The only response anyone could expect from her is anger--or what was for her, mild annoyance.

But then Kitty knew her better than most, she knew that the unflappable Rogue could be shaken. But neither of them were certain if this was a situation where Rogue would be shaken. All Rogue knew was that Kitty's attention was already automatically engaged; not only was the Valley Girl extremely protective of her friends, but there was a handsome guy involved. Double trouble.

If there was one thing Rogue didn't want, it was having to explain her "friendship" to Remy LeBeau. Or whatever it is. How can you be friends with someone who stands against everything you believe in, who attacked you before and served the man responsible for hurting you? But Rogue couldn't deny that she had forged a bond with him. The question was did she even want to try?

He might not deserve this chance, she thought as she approached their meeting place, Ah don't owe him anything. But Ah'm gonna give it ta him anyway.

The Dribble Inn had once been a Victorian-style house just off of Main Street that some optimistic entrepreneur decided to convert into a classy restaurant. It hadn't worked. Rogue coughed as the latent cigarette smoke hit her eyes. New York's banned smoking in restaurants for over two years now…Ah don't even want ta know how many people smoked in here for it ta still smell like this.

Blinking to clear her eyes, Rogue lingered by the door for a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The "restaurant" had several booths along the walls, with dirty yellow lanterns attached to the wall beside them. There were several mismatching tables along the floor, leading to a rather large and--from what she could tell--very well stocked bar. There was a hallway by the bar that led into some sort of back room. No where could she see Remy LeBeau.

She felt the gaze of the few patrons' fix on her as she walked through the restaurant. Before mutants had been exposed, Rogue would have chalked up their curiosity to astonishment that someone new would choose to enter this dive, but now she felt herself tense. Yes, she was willingly meeting with an 'enemy,' but in this world even the people she was trying to protect could be her enemies…

Surely he wouldn't be dumb enough ta ask me ta meet him in a place where we'd end up fightin'. But then again, we'd end up fightin' together an' that could be used ta create a deeper bond and get me off my guard…

She was safe in the back room before she had completed that thought, and Rogue felt a little of the tension ease out of her. There were three pool tables interspaced diagonally so that the players could have the most room, a few tables in the back with chairs set up around them in preparation for some sort of card game. It was lit from above with glass-covered light bulbs; Rogue couldn't tell if the glass was meant to be stained, or if it was just dirty. And most importantly, the room was occupied.

Remy was bent over a pool table. She was facing his profile as he concentrated on making his shot. The light of the room played a perfect complement to his angular features, and Rogue had to fight down what was becoming a disturbingly familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach upon seeing him.

After all she had seen of Remy LeBeau, she couldn't believe that he didn't notice her presence in the doorway watching him. Still, she waited until he had taken his shot and was about to reposition himself for another one before she called his name.

"Remy?"

He tried to suppress a pleasurable shudder at the way she said his name, her soft, husky voice caressing out the sounds and turning them into a song that made his knees weak.

But he couldn't think like that. He couldn't show her how much she made him feel. Not until he decided how to play this game. There were so many possibilities…

But he didn't want to play her. She was Anna. She was Rogue. She was beautiful…

He straightened and moved towards her.

She saw him shudder when she spoke his name and wondered at it. Could it be from the same electricity that jolted her heart each time their eyes met?

No, she couldn't think like that. She had to wait, to test it out, to decide if she could trust him.

But she wanted to trust him. He was Remy. He was Gambit. He was everything she could never have…and he was too close.

"Back off, Swamp Rat," Rogue refused to step away, only glaring up at him, prepared to shove him away if need be. "Don't tell me that someone with your experience has never heard of personal space."

He only smirked at her and grabbing her hand, brought it up to his lips for a kiss, "Pleasure t' see y' again, as always cherie."

Rogue rolled her eyes, "Don't start that 'cherie' stuff with me. And don't even think you're off the hook for comin' ta my school like that. That was your idea of discreet?"

Remy winked, "Don't tell me y' didn't have fun." He tugged on her hand which he still hadn't released and led her over to an adjoining booth. "'Sides. Dat was discreet."

Rogue tugged her hand free from his grasp and slid into the seat, "Then Ah hate ta think of your idea of obvious."

He laughed at her and made to sit beside her, but she glared at him so he grinned at her and slid into the seat across from her. "I'm guessin' dat Scotty-boy went back an' told de professor all 'bout our little meetin', non?"

She glared at him, "Yes. An' Ah had ta sit through two hours of speculation, thanks ta ya. An' if ya so much as wink near me an' Kitty again, Logan has vowed ta do some very interesting things ta your entrails. Ah'm not sure some of the things he mentioned are even possible."

Remy was unperturbed. "Doncha wanna know why I wanted de lil' teacher's pet t' be runnin' back home an' tellin'?"

Rogue really, really wanted to take exception to the way he was talking about Scott. But she had a feeling that if she started that conversation, she'd never get a decent explanation out of him.

Besides, it's not like Ah haven't called Scott anything worse…

"Fine." Rogue clasped her gloved hands under her chin and batted her eyes at him outrageously. "Swamp Rat, Oh Swamp Rat, won't ya tell me what the hell was goin' on in your little mind when ya decided ta show up ta my school? The PG version, please."

He chuckled and then asked, "PG?"

Rogue dropped her hands and glared at him. "You're right. With your mind, Ah'd be safer askin' for G."

Remy smirked at her, "How can I refuse such a gracious request? Chere, y' put on a fabulous act when I came around, really y' did, an' Lord knows dat I did too. Mais, dere's one t'ing dat no amount of actin' will fool."

Rogue unwillingly found herself caught up in his good humor, wanting to be on the in side of his joke, "Oh?"

He leaned forward, still grinning, and tapped her twice on the nose with a gloved finger before she pulled away, practically hissing at him.

He ignored her reaction and continued, "Your friend de Wolverine has super-senses, non? Just like de over grown pussy-cat workin' for Magneto. Showin' up at de school an' buggin' ya gives us an excuse t' smell like each ot'er every once an' a while. He asks, ya just tell him ya ran into me again."

She crossed her arms, still too irritated over him touching her to admit that he had a good point. Besides, it's not like his ego needs any feedin'. "An' what are ya gonna do when Logan drops by an' asks ya ta leave me alone? Ah've gotta warn ya, he ain't exactly polite."

He raised his eyebrows in recognition of the name. "Logan? De homme y' been tranin' with all dis time?"

Rogue nodded.

"Merde," Remy said, his gaze flickering over her briefly, reassessing her. Then he grinned again, "Don' y' worry 'bout ole Remy, chere. He can take care of himself."

Rogue narrowed her eyes, "There ya go with the third person again. What's with that?"

"It's part of his mask, belle." He winked at her before dropping the pretense and looking her straight in the eyes, "Y' know about dat. I never hid it from y'. I wear masks, I play games, I do what it takes t' get what I want."

Rogue swallowed, and then looked away, "An' what part of the game is the blatant honesty bid? What are ya hoping ta win?"

Gambit chuckled warmly and leaned back, relaxed once again. "Wish I knew, cherie. Wish I knew."

She brought her eyes back to his face in a long, assessing look. He returned it with equal frankness. The air between them became charged, electric as each of them refused to give any more than they had and refused to take back anything they had given.

Rogue couldn't look away, so she made up her mind to say something, what, she wasn't sure, but the moment was shattered when the waiter came to the table. He was a rotund man with greasy blonde hair slicked back and he was wearing what was once a white apron.

"What can I getcha two?" he said, pulling out an order pad out of the pocket in his apron.

Rogue relaxed her arms and lifted an eyebrow at Remy, silently asking if there was anything good to eat in the place.

He grinned at her, winked, and then turned to the waiter, "I'll take a large burger, medium rare, with some chili fries an' a Guinness."

Ah, so anything fried is good. Jus' like back home. "Ah'll take the mozzarella sticks, chicken fingers, an' cherry coke."

Short, balding, and greasy nodded and turned to go back to the bar.

Remy grinned at her, "Nice t' see a femme who's not afraid t' eat on a date."

"You're on a date?" Rogue asked, raising her eyebrows and craning her neck to look around them. "When's she gettin' here? Ah'd hate ta be the third wheel."

"Oh, I don' t'ink ya hafta be worried about dat, chere," Remy winked.

"Who said Ah was 'worried?' Ah'd kinda like ta meet the gal foolish enough to fall for ya 'charms.'"

"You're here, ain't ya?"

Rogue crossed her arms over her chest again, "If Ah recall correctly--and Ah'm sure Ah do--Ah'm here ta discuss your 'reasons' for working for Buckethead."

Remy cocked an eyebrow, "Buckethead?"

Rogue smirked, "Ah figured Ah'd do ya the courtesy of not announcing the name of the terrorist you're working for in public. Mais," she emphasized, "if you're really that nonchalant about it…"

"Remy appreciates de concern for him, cherie."

"Third person again, Gambit?" Rogue asked with raised eyebrows.

Remy sighed and ran his hand through his hair, "'m t'inking I'm gonna regret tellin' ya dat."

Rogue shrugged, "Ah probably woulda figured it out anyway."

Remy only gave her a little smirk and tilted his head slightly to the side. The moment of silence between them stretched on just enough to become uncomfortable, and Rogue felt distinctly disquieted at being the fixed center of his attention.

"So…" Rogue flickered her eyes around the restaurant briefly before meeting Remy's gaze again. "Ah'm waiting."

"So'm I, chere. Been waitin' ever since y' mentioned it, but now dat I've seen y', I'm lookin' forward t' it even more."

Rogue narrowed her eyes, "Why do Ah get the feelin' we're not talkin' about the same things?"

Remy smiled innocently, "I'm talkin' 'bout dat strip poker game. Wednesday night good for you?"

"Ya stupid swamp rat!" Rogue slammed her fists on the table, propelling herself to a half-standing position where she leaned over the table above him, "What's it gonna take t' get it through your thick head? Ah. Am. Not. Playing strip poker with ya. Clear?"

Said swamp rat actually had the nerve to throw his head back and laugh. When he had recovered, he met her furious gaze with his disconcertingly knowing one and said, "Mebbe so, mebbe no. Mais, it broke de tension, non? Have a seat, cherie, 'm gonna tell ya a story."

"It'd better be a true story," Rogue muttered as she slumped back down into her seat. "Ah'm startin' ta wonder why Ah'm even here."

Remy grinned at her, "It's for de charmin' décor an' fabulous cuisine, of course. Not t' mention de fabulous company dat is also de best part of de view," he finished with a wink.

Rogue drummed her gloved fingers on the table between them and glared. The impatient strumming was somewhat muffled because of the fabric, but she managed to get her point across.

Remy sighed and let his cheerful façade drop, "Fine. Y' want t' skip straight t' de serious stuff, dat's fine. Guess dis means dat we get t' play poker for desert?"

"Remy."

Rogue's voice was hard and flat, but something in him still surged forward in response to the way that she said his name. He shook off the desire to do something about that feeling and made himself be serious. "'fore I tell y' dis, you've got t' give me your solemn promise dat dis stays between us. Neither of us wants t' face de consequences if dis gets out, an' I ain't talkin' 'bout anyt'ing mutant related either."

Rogue raised her eyebrows, "Is this gonna get me in trouble?"

Remy shrugged, "No more than fightin' de world's mos' dangerous mutant terrorist. None at all if y' don't tell nobody."

Rogue smirked, "Point. Ah promise. Go on."

Remy ran a hand through his hair. "De shortened version is dat I grew up on de streets of N'Awlins. M' eyes…an' ot'er t'ings…dey made it a bit harder t' blend in than it might have been. I got picked up by one of de main powers of de city…got adopted into de family, y' might say."

Rogue's eyes narrowed, "What, like the Mafia or something?"

He flashed her a quick grin, "We're a bit more specialized. An' less flashy. De only way you'll have heard of us is if you already knew."

Rogue raised her eyebrows, "How very Pirates of the Caribbean of ya."

He smirked at her, "What, you t'ink you're de only one who remembers lines from movies?"

"So what is your 'specialty,' then Mr. Sparrow?"

His smirk deepened. "Tell me, did y' feel it when I stuck dat note in your pocket, chere?"

Rogue shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "No. Ah didn't."

His facial expression didn't flicker, but he somehow managed to project even more smug self-satisfaction. "An' why d'ya t'ink dat was?"

Because ya were standin' too damn close ta me. "Why Ah have a feelin' you're goin' ta tell me regardless?"

Remy set his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand, "Well t'ink about it, chere. What kinda profession could require dat kinda skilled hands?"

Gigolo? Rogue wisely suppressed that thought, realizing that was just giving him way too much of an opportunity. "You're a thief."

Remy grinned charmingly, "Oui."

"Your whole family is thieves?"

"Oui."

"Well that certainly helps explain the bunny rabbit thing," Rogue muttered.

Remy laughed. "Dat does add a certain spin to it, oui. But mostly, dey're just crazy. Mais sometime I'll have t' introduce y' to Fluffy."

"Oh joy," Rogue said.

Their waiter approached the table with their beverages on a tray. He dropped them on the table with a clank and slid them in front of their respective owners.

"Your food should be right out."

"T'anks, homme," Remy said.

The waiter nodded his balding head and walked away.

Rogue watched as Remy took a sip of his beer. She waited until he was finished and then said, "But that still doesn't explain anything."

"Non? It explains how I got dat note in your pocket."

He was being deliberately exasperating. "Ah meant that still doesn't explain what you're doing with Magneto."

"Oh. Dat. Well, what you've gotta understand, chere, is dat even t'ough m' family is very close, we're still a business. An' ma pere, he was about t' make a business decision concerning m' life dat... I just couldn't agree to. It wouldn't have been a good t'ing. Mais, if I out and out said dat, I'd be exiled quicker dan a blink. So I had t' t'ink of somet'ing... profitable fo' m' family dat only I could do. Give m' tante time t' try an get ma pere t' see reason. Magneto's got me on contract, Rogue. He pays me t' be his t'ief, supposedly, even t'ough I haven't had hardly any work t' do..." he muttered under his breath.

"So if he pays ya ta be his thief...what were ya doin' handin' me that charged King o' Hearts?"

Remy grinned at her, "Dat was flirtin', cherie. Don' tell me y' don't recognize it when y' see it?"

"Ah recognize flirtin' OK. The card's not supposed ta blow up in your face."

"Seems like your face survived just fine," he leered with a wink.

"Not. The. Point," Rogue hissed. "If you're only supposed ta be doing ta be doin' the breakin' an' enterin', what are ya doin' being his fightin' for him an' running his errands?"

"Chere!" Remy sat up straight and began to sulk, "Y' can't say dat I'm doin' breakin' an' entering. Trust me, if I go into a place it's not'ing so crude as dat."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Once again, ya excel at missin' the point."

He blew out an exasperated breath, "Y' never let me get away wit' anyt'ing."

Rogue grinned tightly, her eyes narrowed, "An' that's why ya like me. Now are ya gonna explain what you're doing bein' one of his bully-boys or not?"

He stared at her straight in the eyes and said, "Magneto is not a man y' say no t' unless you've got a very good reason. And I need dis contract, chere. I'm doin' what it takes t' keep it."

"Ah'm still not sure Ah see why ya need this contract so very badly. Can't ya just work it out with your family?"

Remy sighed, "Y' don't know ma pere. Y' don't know what he's tryin' t' do. Did'ya t'ink I liked contracting m'self out of m' family? I tried everyt'ing else, dis is de only t'ing dat would work."

Rogue leaned forward, "If ya want me ta understand, then tell me."

"I've told y' more dan I should already. Any more an' neither one of us will like de consequences. Guess you're just gonna hafta trust me."

At that moment the waiter came back with their food. "Chicken Fingers?"

"Over here," Rogue said.

The waiter slid her food in front of her and then gave Remy his burger.

Rogue automatically scooted to the side of the booth so that she could be at the farthest angle away from Remy as she began to remove her gloves. She felt his gaze hot upon her hands, and it made her feel as if she was taking off something far more revealing. Rogue glanced up at him as she finished, and his face was intent, concentrated, and revealing nothing more than his absolute focus on her.

"If Ah don't take 'em off, Ah hafta clean them," she felt prompted to explain, as if she had just cocked a gun and pointed it in his direction instead of simply preparing to eat. "Don't worry, Ah'll be careful. Ah've gotten real good at eatin' at a crowded table. This is nothin'."

Remy's gaze met hers, and he smiled a slow, lazy grin that made her breath catch. "I ain't worried, Rogue." He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a small plastic bottle containing bright red liquid.

He lifted up his bun and poured a liberal amount on his hamburger. "M' own special recipe. Wanna give your barbeque sauce a shot with it?"

"It's hot?"

"Would it be anyt'ing else?"

Rogue snorted and said, "Slide it on over."

His gaze turned sharp and evaluating for a moment before he silently complied.

He watched her squirt a decent amount of it into her BBQ sauce and waited until she slid it back to him before commenting, "Y' seem t' be takin' dis whole t'ief t'ing very well." He took a bite of his burger.

Rogue shrugged and stirred her sauce with a chicken finger, "It's not that bad. Ah've got the memories of Wolverine, Mystique, Juggernaught, an' Magneto floatin' around in mah head. It's kinda hard ta shock me with an ugly side of life."

Remy raised his eyebrows, "An' it doesn't offend your super-hero sensibilities?"

Rogue snorted, "An' what would it matter if it did? After all, Ah came ta meet with ya while you're working for my enemy didn't Ah?"

Remy inclined his head, "Good point. So, 'bout what y' said earlier… y' just get dere memories? Like a telepath?"

"Not exactly." She took a bite of her chicken with the doctored sauce. Her eyes widened and she could feel her face flush. Rogue refused to give him the satisfaction of coughing, but she couldn't stop her eyes from watering.

"Damn," she said when she could speak again.

Remy smirked.

She grinned at him, "Can Ah have some more?"

He blinked, and for once Rogue had the great satisfaction of seeing the King of Hearts look absolutely poleaxed. He recovered quickly, of course, and spoke in a dazed voice, "I t'ink I'm in love."

"Ah "t'ink" you're ridiculous. Pass the hot sauce?"

Remy's befuddled look slid into a pout, "S'not nice makin' fun of a man's heart like dat. Don't know if I should give y' anymore."

Rogue grinned at him, "Ya know ya want ta."

"Ya know, I t'ink y' might be right 'bout dat," his voice was warm and deep and Rogue found herself grateful that he hadn't used it to make a cheaper innuendo.

"Ya gonna give it ta me or not?"

Remy smirked and shook his head, "Y' make it too easy sometimes, chere, y' really do."

He slid the sauce back over to her.

She took it and grinned at him, "But Ah have the sauce."

He watched intently as she gave the bottle two hard shakes over her sauce and then stuck her finger in it, lifting it up to her mouth to sample it.

Rogue blinked, smiled, and slid the sauce back over. "That stuff could become addictive."

"Y've no idea," his voice was a little hoarse, and it was an obvious effort for him to look down at his burger again.

Rogue smiled contentedly and continued eating.

"So," Remy said after a moment. "Y' said dat your powers don't work exactly like a telepath's. How do dey work, den?"

Rogue suddenly found the remnants of her food very interesting. "Ah don't know 'xactly. The professor's said he's never seen anything like it. But as near as Ah can tell, whenever Ah have skin ta skin contact with someone… Ah become them. Say Ah touched Fred for three seconds. He'd feel a bit faint, and Ah'd have three second crash course ta his most lifeformin' memories or whatever he's thinkin' of most urgently. It depends. The memories, they come in flashes, an' while Ah'm going through them, they're not just his memories, they're mine. The longer Ah hold on, the more Ah know. An' then when I let go, Ah've got his power for three minutes. That much about it Ah've figured out. An' after that's done, the… memories don't just go away like his power does. They stay inside mah head…they're Fred inside mah head, just like Ah was Fred inside his head."

"What do y' mean, chere?" Remy's voice was soft, coaxing, and Rogue glued her eyes more firmly to the tabletop.

"Ah mean that if Ah wore a shirt that said, 'You're just jealous because the voices talk ta me,' Ah'd be telling the truth. Ah take a bit of someone and they stay with me. Forever, as far as Ah can tell. They're me, and they're them, and they have their own opinions…the opinions they would have as they were when Ah touched them. Does that make any sense?"

"Not so much."

Rogue exhaled a frustrated breath and then lifted her head to glare at him. "Ah call them psyches. From the Greek meaning 'souls.'" Her voice was flat and angry as she stared at his impassive face. "Ah touch someone an' Ah drain the life out of 'em and a bit of that stays with me. But their life is not mah life, so it stays in me but is not me. Ah don't feed off it, like a vampire, Ah just carry them around in me. For example, if Ah chose ta pay attention, the Scott in mah head is tellin' me overturn this table on ya and run, the Kitty inside mah head is fascinated with the way your hair falls in front of your eyes, the Magneto in meh is dryly commenting that this entire meeting is most inappropriate, and the Logan in meh wants ta slice off your balls and feed them ta ya for lookin' at meh the way ya do. Clear enough?"

"An' dis happens all de time? Dey're always talkin'?"

"It's worse in the morning an' at night. Ah can usually block them out during the day."

Remy's brow puckered, "An' your fightin' dere opinions all de time? Ain't ya afraid of being lost in your own mind?"

Rogue closed her eyes and clenched her fists so tightly that she felt blood in her palms and Remy saw her knuckles turn white.

"Stupid question?"

"Very," Rogue said slowly.

"De professor helpin' ya with dis?"

Rogue exhaled and opened her eyes, but her fists were still clenched on the tabletop. "He's doin' what he can. But like Ah said, he's never seen a mutation like mine before, so he doesn't know exactly how to help, or even what's 'normal,' for me."

"So dat's what ya meant when ya said ya knew Magneto's reasons. Y've lived dem too."

Just the mention of some of Erik Lensherr's memories caused them to resurface and Rogue had to close her eyes again to force down the feeling of being so hungry, so helpless, and so alone. "Erik…has a very forceful personality. His memories are some of the worst."

Remy raised his eyebrows, "Erik?"

Rogue snorted, "When ya know as much about the man as Ah do, it's hard not at think of him on first name terms--if you're not on cussing terms instead, that is."

Remy inclined his head, his eyes calculating. "Point. An' y' have no control over dis at all?"

Rogue smiled tightly and nodded her head towards her gloves. "Those. An' once Ah take a person's power, Ah don't have trouble with it like they might. It's added into mah system fully functional."

"I see. An' it's every time y' touch skin on skin. Y' can't do not'ing t' control it."

The corner of Rogue's mouth tilted upwards in wry grin and she relaxed a little, "If Ah could, you'd be the last person Ah'd tell."

Remy laughed. "We'll see about dat, cherie. We'll just have t' see about dat."

The waiter stopped by their table.

Rogue quickly put her hands on her lap.

"Are you two about done? Or can I getcha anything else?"

"Sure, homme. I'll take a coffee, black, an' a slice of your caramel apple pie. Chere?"

"Another black coffee an'…a slice of cheesecake."

"We're outa cheesecake."

Rogue shrugged, "Just the coffee, then."

"Y' sure?" Remy said.

Rogue nodded and the waiter left.

As soon as the waiter left the table, she started putting on her gloves. Remy watched this closely, a faint frown on his face.

"So, I told y' about Magneto, now I get t' ask my question."

Rogue glanced up at him, "Ah told ya about mah powers."

Remy shrugged, "Y' said you'd do dat if ya were satisfied with m' explanation about Magneto. It was part of de trade. Now it's my turn for a free question."

Rogue narrowed her eyes, "Ah'm not tellin' ya anything that Ah think will hurt the X-Men."

Remy grinned at her, "I wouldn't even t'ink about askin' 'bout dem, cherie. 'm much more interested in y'."

"Joy," Rogue mumbled. She sighed and then tilted her head back, pursing her lips slightly. "Ask your question."

Remy hunched his shoulders slightly and leaned forward a little, speaking in a low tone of voice, "What happened to y' when you were at Trask's base?"

AN: (Ducks any objects thrown in retribution for the cliff-hanger) Hey, if you kill the author, you won't get any more story! I apologise for the cliffy, but it was either update with the cliffhanger or make you wait for another week or so while I work on the rest of the chapter. This is better, right? Right? Circumstances have conspired against me in my fanfiction writing, not the least of which is the fact that I am now fully employed and working over 40 hours a week. For updates, snippets, review responses, and other things, check out my writing journal--link's on the profile. (Review responses are now UP!)

Well, thoughts, comments, questions? I hope you liked it. Let me know:)