Author's Note: This story is a little different from the other ones in this series. It's a little more serious, not as many stabs at humor, which I try not to be… in my writing or in my life. But I ran across a meme quote that stuck with me, and I can't even find it again on the internet to give proper credit where it's due for inspiring this fic. But it was something along the lines of, "Once you know you have a person in your life, you never think about them again – ever." I take it to mean that you should not take those who love you for granted. Enjoy.

Some timeline discrepancies from the comics – I think Captain America disbanded the Avengers Unity Squad in Uncanny Avengers before Gambit and Rogue tied the knot, but my fic still has her on the team.

By and large, Rogue and I spend more time apart than together.

When we are together, we make all these plans – let's take a trip to the South Pacific, let's visit your Tante Mattie, let's try that new French restaurant – but they all just remain as vague plans that never come into play as we both get absorbed into the area of our lives that doesn't involve the other.

There are times when I think this is a blessing. If Rogue made an issue about me being away from her all the time, then I suppose we would have more friction in our marriage.

But I can't remember the last time I saw her or held her. We speak on the phone and text each other, but even that is getting to be cut and dry and only business.

I guess I just miss my girl.

My phone buzzes alerting me to a new text message. It's from Rogue. It reads:

Very funny, Cajun.

She attached a picture to the text. It's a photo of our refrigerator where I stuck a post-it scrawled with Gone Thievin'.

I smile, tucking my phone into my inside pocket of my trench coat. I posted that three days ago, and she just sees it now?

I pull the line that I'm tethered to and quickly scale down the side of the building.

I open the refrigerator and sigh. Almost everything in here is expired.

I start pulling out the items, doing smell checks and tossing them out. I close the door and see Remy's post-it again. I smile.

I look over at my phone. He's checked my text but hasn't replied back.

People easily pegged us as the poster board on-again-off-again couple, but if I'm being completely honest, there wasn't ever a time I felt like we were off. "Off" was when I was just thinking about him rather than being with him. And there are only so many times you can coincidentally bump into someone while you're being a globetrotting superhero, until you realize that that someone is seeking you out, too.

But we're married now. So we're permanently on, and there's no need to seek each other out anymore. We have each other on retainer, and ironically, it's given us the freedom to grow more independent from each other.

It's not something I can really blame him for. I'm just as responsible, if not, more so.

I just get so busy sometimes, and I can't see him for days on end. And then when I finally catch a break and hurry home and he's not there, the loneliness hits me like a ton of bricks.

And when that loneliness eventually starts to feel like neglect and resentment, I guess that's when most marriages go belly up.

My phone pings. My eyes light up but when I check it, I realize it's not from Remy.

It's from Havok.

I sigh. More work. Still, I welcome it. It's easier to cope when you have something else to focus on.

I unlock the door to our apartment and push it open.

The lights are off except for the one over the kitchen island, and only the cats come and greet me. It's not even all the cats either.

I pass by the kitchen and see that she has done some cleaning up. Dishes have been put back in and recyclables organized. There's another sticky note on the fridge below mine:

Gone Avengin'.

I don't smile.

I pull out the phone and I'm about to call her but I think better of it. I never know if my phone call might distract her at some kind of crucial point during a fight or when she's stealthily sneaking in somewhere. It happens more often than one would think.

I toss my phone on the bed and decide to take a shower.

I climb into the stall and notice that the tiles are still damp. She must have taken one, too.

The stall smells like her shower gel.

I'm in the Avenger's HQ, discussing who will be sent where to do what, and I can tell we're all sick of the arguing back and forth, but we're all doing it anyway.

Wanda speaks up, pissed that she's being sidelined again.

I, for once, don't mind being sidelined.

Havok speaks up for me and convinces the Captain how my role is crucial to the success of this next mission that's taking place in Africa. I look at the Captain and hope to God he doesn't get persuaded.

The Captain nods at me and permits me to go.

I suppose I always have the option to back down out of it. But something about being in this room with the Captain and Thor and the Scarlet Witch, seething to be accepted as a bonafide Avenger, builds up this pressure to always take up arms when called upon. It doesn't help that I'm a woman.

Can you imagine what it would sound like if I tell them I'd like to reject the call of justice to go home and spend time with my husband?

The meeting ends and I sneak out to send Remy a quick text before the next briefing.

My phone buzzes and lights up on the bed after I come out of the shower. I pick it up and see a text from Rogue that she just sent a few seconds ago.

Hi. I'm headed somewhere far this time. I won't be back tonight. I'll try to reach you once I get a better idea on the eta.

I look at her text blankly. Finally, I text back:

How far?

The ellipses icon pulses, telling me she's typing on the other end. And it comforts me more than I thought it would.

Far.

For a moment, I want to chuck my phone out the window or type in a bunch of expletives. But I draw up all the maturity I can muster and type this instead:

Different continent or different galaxy?

The ellipses pulse again.

Different continent. And she follows it with a laughing emoji.

I suppose I should be relieved.

Bring me back a souvenir.

Love you.

Love you too.

I stare back at our texts, and as a sudden but desperate afterthought, I quickly type in the following:

Don't be the hero. Stay safe.

The ellipses pulse again, and I can imagine what she might be typing back. Maybe something sarcastic about how effective that would be, or some overcompensating remark on how she's the only real hero on that team. But after a little bit, the pulsing stops and no reply arrives.

I wait a little longer. But it stays that way.

Maybe it's just me being paranoid, but it feels ominous.

We're under siege. Our jet gets pummeled with a rain of fire from some unknown location in the upper hemisphere.

We've already evacuated the plane. Havok, Thor and Wasp take to the air to fend off the attack, which somehow leaves me to do the inventory work. Mainly, taking care of our jumbo jet filled with an insane amount of Wakandan vibranium that needs to be safely deposited somewhere.

Another rush of flames and the jet takes a heavy blow in its last working engine and all the lights in the cockpit are screaming at me to do something about it.

Honestly, I was never good with machines.

I push up my sleeves, desert the cockpit and kick open one of the emergency side doors. I let the escaping cabin pressure suction me out and after tumbling a few times in the air, I align my body against the current and glide below the massive belly of the plane.

"Rogue! Did you secure the cargo?" Havok asks.

"Ah'm tryin," I yell against the air.

"I can't stress enough how important that cargo is!"

I don't say anything as I start lifting the plane towards the direction I want it to go. Lightning goes off in all directions, momentarily blinding me, and I squint to see land coming up ahead in the horizon.

Suddenly, a pulse of energy pounds me off course and I'm sent twirling. I recover to find a small fleet of sky pirates trying to separate me from the cargo jet. I readjust my direction and find the plane. I kick it up a gear, grabbing a hold of the grooves in the panels and torpedo through the air, fast enough to start seeing sparks of flames flying off the nose of the jet.

"Don't go so fast, Rogue! What are you gonna do when you have to land?"

"Then take care of the damn pirates on my tail!" I yell back.

Thor's lightning pounds through the air and I can see a few of them drop away.

I reverse my body and start pushing the plane backwards, trying to get it to slow. I thrust myself forward, gritting my teeth and the plane starts to hit the tips of trees as land comes up faster than I had anticipated.

I swerve around the trees to find a long stretch of land where an emergency landing might be appropriate. I finally see one coming up – not ideal – but it will have to do.

I punch out the landing gear and bear down on the plane. There is a blur of trees and rocks and ice and dirt below me, and I have a feeling this is not going to be pleasant.

Sparks fly as the landing gear make contact with the irregular surface. I let it bounce on and off, shaving off speed.

Suddenly, one of the landing tires collide with the jutting edge of a boulder, and rocks explode and shower my side. The plane lurches off course and spins like a top, headed to bash into a side of an ice capped crag.

I dig my heels into the ground and the weight of the plane crushes me down and grinds me against the rocky surface.

The plane finally groans to a stop, teetering to one side, engines still on fire and filling the air with thick black smoke.

"Rogue! Rogue, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I grumble. I crawl out from underneath the plane and roll onto my back to look up and find the nozzle end of a weapon trained between my eyes. I immediately know it's not one of those average, made-on-Earth, assault rifles. Nobody packs those these days.

It fires point blank, and the same pulse of energy that I felt earlier pummels through me and my vision goes black.

I feel numb.

It's dark all around me.

"Rogue."

I hear my name being called, the voice is distant.

"Rogue."

It sounds a little closer.

"Chere."

I open my eyes. I see Remy. He's looking down at me, but his face is a little blurry. It feels like I'm underwater looking up at him who's on the surface.

He reaches down, offering me a hand.

I reach up and take it. He pulls me up and I break through the surface.

It's just the two of us standing on what looks like the surface of the moon. He squeezes my hand and gives me a soft smile.

"It was a good run while it lasted, non?"

I look at him in confusion. He lets go of my hand.

I fumble to grab it again.

He walks away and disappears.

I'm standing there alone.

So utterly alone.

"Rogue!"

My vision is swimming. There is fire everywhere and Thor is standing above me.

I close my eyes, and the tears sting as they roll down my cheeks.

I wake up to the sound of cats screeching and hissing. I fell asleep on the sofa and all three of them are surrounding the couch, looking out the balcony window, fur and tail standing straight up and maniacally hissing up a storm.

"What de…?" I get up and suddenly blue lightning crashes down, shaking the window panes and filling the whole room with a blinding amount of light.

I squint. Lightning continues to swirl around the surface of the balcony as I make my way towards the shuddering door. I push it open to find the God of Thunder next to our barbecue grill.

I grab a pack of playing cards on the bookcase next to the balcony door and discreetly put it in my pants pocket. Hopefully, this doesn't wind up in a fight with me in just my pajama bottoms taking on a god in full armor in the middle of Tribeca, but you just never can be sure these days.

Lightning crackles off his hammer impressively, and he stands to his full height, his red cape billowing about his shoulders. I take a few steps closer.

"Remy LeBeau?" he asks, his voice deep, burly and booming.

I massage the back of my head. "I'd say who's askin', but I guess dat be pretty obvious, non?"

He turns around, and immediately I feel the blood drain from my face, and I'm planted where I stand. He's holding onto Rogue's body.

"I have a delivery for you."

I raise an eyebrow. He takes two bounds towards me and drops Rogue's prone form in my arms.

Her uniform is in scorched tatters. Her face and body are covered with streaks of black, and her arms and legs are scraped and bloody.

"She looks a little worse for wear, but she is alive," he informs.

My shoulders sag in relief.

Thor grins widely. "I hear you two got married recently. Congratulations."

Rogue told me this guy was socially awkward, but even I'm a little taken aback. "Thanks," I say. "What happened?"

"Oh, she passed out after she got hit with a… some nerve-pulsar weapon or other. She should have evaded, but I do not think she is accustomed to evading."

"Or maybe, no one was coverin' her," I remark dryly.

Thor shoots me a guarded look but then continues. "She prayed for me to take her to you before she passed out. I have rarely seen her so desperate, or pass out for that matter. So I felt obligated to follow her wishes. I will report her return home to the Avengers and her current fragile state."

"Fragile," I repeat numbly. Rogue, fragile?

"I do not know why she is not waking," Thor says, uncertain.

I look at her face, her expression placid and serene beneath the scorch marks.

"But I am fairly certain she will be just fine." He awkwardly places his hand on my shoulder in consolation. "Sorry."

He gives me a nod, and then he swings his hammer and a couple crashes of lightning later, he rockets into the air, causing a whirlwind of ruckus that sends all the patio furniture to tumble around like dry leaves.

I can hear the sound of traffic from the city streets below again.

"He gone?"

I startle, looking at Rogue.

She winks one eye open. She sighs, placing an arm behind my shoulder and sitting up a bit.

"Care to explain dis situation t'me, chere?" I ask, irritated and confused, but mostly, I'm relieved.

She tucks herself upright and floats closer to me and gives me a peck on the cheek. "Ah missed ya, and Ah wanted to come home," she says tiredly.

"So y'faked like you passed out in front of Thor?" I shoot her a suspicious look.

"No, Ah really passed out, but Ah came to around the time he landed. All that thunder an' lightnin' really gave me a jolt."

I don't feel playful. "So den was dis y'idea of a prank?"

Her eyes widen a bit. She finally lands on her two feet.

"No, Remy," she says cautiously. "Ah was just…"

She smiles at me disarmingly, and I already know I lost this sudden tense stand-off of my own doing, and I will probably forgive her for everything and anything until kingdom come.

"Sorry, it wasn't my intent to frighten ya."

I finally take a deep breath in and exhale heavily, taking my thumb and trying to rub the scorch marks off her cheek. "When y' look at yourself in de mirror, y' gon' understand why I'm so upset, chere."

"That bad, huh?" she grins.

"Like a nightmare."

Her eyes drop, her brows pinch, and suddenly, her fingers thread into mine and squeezes hard.

It's enough for me to notice that something isn't completely right with her.

"Y' okay?" I ask her, squeezing her hand back.

She nods. "Ah am now."

After I'm washed and looking like I'm back to one of the living, Remy is applying ointment on all the scratches I have on my legs, knees and arms.

"Usually you de one doing dis f'me, neh?" he says. "Must have taken a big spill if y'got scratches on you."

I nod. "I crash-landed a jumbo jet, on top of me."

He doesn't say anything.

"Remy."

"Oui?" he says, pressing a Band-aid over one where the skin is a little more gouged out.

"What ya doin' tomorrow?"

He raises his face to look up at me. "Why? What y'have in mind?"

"Ya wanna go to the Bahamas? Just kinda lay low for a while?"

He smirks. "Sure."

It sounds very non-committal.

"Ah'm serious," I tell him.

"I ain't sayin' you ain't."

"Okay, then do you not like the Bahamas? 'Cause we can go somewhere else."

He finally caps the ointment and places it down on the coffee table. He clasps his hands in front of him, leaning over his knees. He is quiet and pensive, and it fills me with anxiety. We kept the lights off on purpose, just letting the lights of the city filter in through the tall windows alongside our living room walls. The room is dark except for the pale bluish-white of the leather sofa we're sitting on. The ambience is like… being on the moon.

"Anna."

I tense. He rarely calls me by my real name.

"We make all dese plans. But dey just plans," he says. "An' even if we make it on a plane tomorrow, or even on de island tomorrow, y're gon' get some important phone call on Avenger business or some other business, and den dat's it. Vacation's over. Because y' can't lie on a beach when y'know y'should be fightin' de good fight. And I respect you too much t'stop you from going."

I feel like I've been sucker-punched. I didn't expect him to give me such a straight answer.

"Remy, what are ya sayin'?"

He says nothing.

I find myself holding my breath. I'm afraid of what he's going to say next. I'm afraid of…

I scramble up and hurriedly rush into our bedroom. I tear at my dresser drawers until I finally find the small velvet box that has the mutant negation bracelet that Beast made me and shakily latch it on. I collapse on the floor, my back to the door.

I hear him enter the room. He finally sits behind me, and his long legs are astride mine. He pulls me until I feel the warmth of his chest against my back. His arms wrap around my shoulders and waist, and he kisses me against my neck.

"I'm not saying anything," he says softly. "Just… y'don't have t'make me any promises, dat's all."

"Remy," I swallow. "Ah don't want to lose you."

"You ain't gon' lose me, chere," he says calmly. "Jus'like I ain't gon' lose you. Dat's why we got married. So we can stop runnin' away from each other whenever things get rough."

"So… we are goin' through somethin' rough?" I ask.

"Y'sayin' y're perfectly happy wit' de way we are?"

I shake my head. "No," I admit. "But Ah think Ah'm the one screwin' up our marriage. Ah mean, let's face it. Ah'm on so many team rosters that Ah get confused sometimes which outfit Ah'm a part of."

He chuckles. "You ain't screwin' up our marriage, chere. We just need some time t'figure things out."

"Doesn't that usually mean some time off from each other?" I ask.

"Don't you think we've been spendin' enough time off from each other?"

I pause, relieved. "Yes."

"See, we agree on something. Dat's progress," he sighs, pulling away from me. He adjusts his seat on the floor so he's leaning back against the foot of the bed.

I look down at the bracelet, which evidences my fear in such a noticeably shameful way. I feel his fingers trail down my back lightly, trying to comfort me. I question what I have to be fearful about, and I think about that strange dream I had when I got shot.

"What…" I clear my throat. "What could be the worst thing Ah could say right now?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Like… what would it take for you to really start thinkin' about divorce?"

He sighs. "Such a weird question."

I just wait adamantly.

"How 'bout… 'Remy, I'm secretly into necrophilia, and I've been planning your death since we got married.'"

"What? Ew, gross!" I turn around to look at him.

"You put me on de spot!" he shrugs helplessly.

"And the first thing off the top of your head is necrophilia?"

"It's 'cause of dis movie I netflixed…" He stops briefly. "But den again, I probably wouldn't divorce you over it… y'know, as long as de corpse is me."

I can't help but laugh at the remark, but it kind of comes out like a resigned wheeze.

He smirks at me softly. "Next t' nothing is what I'm 'trying t'say, chere."

I look down for a moment, knowing this was stupid and probably not worth even mentioning. But I look at my bracelet, and I still don't think I'm confident enough to take it off.

"Remy, when I got shot today, I had this dream that you left me stranded by myself on the moon."

He raises a brow at me. "Okay," he says slowly. "Is dis more Antarctica guilt?"

"No." For a second, I'm confused. "Maybe? Well, Ah don't know. But it wasn't really the fact that you left me there that was so traumatic, but it was what ya said to me right before you did. Ya said, 'It was a good run while it lasted, non?' Like, all peaceable-like."

He shakes his head at me in distaste. "Dat was a terrible impression of me."

I smile but it turns into a frown, tired and exasperated. "Ah know it's just a dream but… it was just this thought that… the next thing that was gonna tear us apart wasn't gonna be some terrible trial, or crazy ex-lover or the end of the world, but like our own disinterest in each other. And we wouldn't even know that we had drifted apart until one day you're just not there anymore. Maybe at that point, it wouldn't even be that hard to say goodbye."

"You got all dat from dat one line?"

I sigh heavily, rubbing my forehead. "Ah don't know. Maybe it's that stupid gun they shot me with. What the hell was that thing anyway?"

"Yeah, we should probably put that on de top of de list of things to find out."

"Does it really sound that crazy though?"

He thinks about it. "Non," he admits. "But it's also nothing t'get dis concerned about, either. We'll just correct our course if we find ourselves going dat direction. Like we doin' now."

"Yeah, but how are we gonna correct it? Does that mean Ah have to stop bein' an Avenger or what?"

He bows his head minutely. He draws up a knee and balances his forearm over it. "Can I ask y' something?"

I nod.

"Do you even like being an Avenger? Because from what I can tell, y're always so miserable when y're wit dem."

"Well, ya don't really do this for the fun of it."

"Dere's plenty of other good causes who'd gladly have you, where half your energy won't be spent on arguing wit' y' own team."

I sigh. I know he's right. I guess I'm more afraid of what it would look like if I just quit. "Ah don't enjoy the team dynamics," I admit. "It does feel like Ah'm constantly tryin' ta prove myself to them that they need me. And there were more times Ah can count when Ah just wanted to…" The image of punching Captain America in his self-righteous face comes to mind.

"Go rogue?"

My lips twist up into a smile and we make eye contact. I let myself laugh, out loud.

He laughs, too. He pulls me closer to him and holds my head to his, and everything is lighter. I guess this communication thing is pretty important. I probably could take my bracelet off.

Remy beats me to it. He quietly undoes the latch and lets it slide off my wrist and into his palm. He places a hand around my cheek and kisses me.

"Look, be an Avenger, don't be. It's up t'you. But maybe we should both just reorganize our commitments. And dis marriage is a commitment, so let's both stop thinking dat we're too above demandin' more time from each other. De way I see it, you're only together if y're physically together."

His eyes meet mine and for a few seconds we just look at each other wordlessly. I nod at him. I feel fortunate to have him.

I wrap my arms above his shoulders and he pulls my body into his embrace. I hold him tightly, nestling my face snug against the crook of his neck. Despite my fears that we could be growing apart, he still feels like home and family and the only roots I have in this world that really matter. And I know I felt this way long before we even decided to get married.

"Ah think Ah like bein' married to ya, sugah," I say quietly.

He chuckles softly. "Told you dat y'would, chere."

His arms and shoulders feel like a pillar in more ways than one. He whispers sweet French nothings in my ear, which I had always found to be distracting and a little cheesy. But now, they just seem like all the pretty amenities that come with this home I lucked out on getting. And I realize that even if I somehow saved the world, brought about some progress in mutant-human relations or some other noble effort that I professed I was doing with my fists, if I lost this because of it, I would never forgive myself. I would have achieved nothing.

Remy kisses me softly below my ear and languidly pulls me onto him. His hands are hot and grow increasingly insistent, reminding me that sweet French nothings rarely come without reciprocation in mind.

One day, I'm going to have to really parse out what he says to me. He may be reciting the recipe to gumbo for all I know.

But for now, I let my body soak in the lavish kisses he layers me with, feeling the anxieties of this long day drown out in this heady awareness of being so completely loved.

I see the sun rising from our bed. We're lounging in a tangle of sheets, her body curled up next to mine.

The stress and frustration over our inability to connect over the past few weeks finally get resolved in the same way most of my relationship woes with Rogue get resolved – through sex.

Well, to be fair, the talk leading up to the sex and the pillow talk following sex are also carrying a lot of the load off.

"So," she says in a voice that is seeped of all energy.

"So," I repeat after her, playing with the fingers of her hand.

"What ya doin' today?"

"Why? You still wan' whisk me off to de Bahamas?"

"Sure," she grins softly. "But maybe after some sleep. Ah've been up for way too long… like past 24 hours. Ah don't think Ah can manage an international flight just yet."

"You weren't gon' fly us dere yourself, were you?"

"Well, yeah, it's convenient. Dealin' with airport security sucks."

"No offense, chere. But flying f'dat long jacked up by de armpits ain't exactly first class."

"Ya changed," she sighs liltingly. "There was a time when ya even counted that as foreplay."

"Meager an' desperate times."

"Hm," she just answers.

"Hm? Dat's your counter?" I look at her. "Chere, you must be tired."

"Ah don't know. Ah think Ah agree with ya… those were confusin' times."

"Confusing how?"

I ask knowing the answer. That same old dilemma of wanting to touch but can't. Wanting to let someone in but can't.

"Confusin'…" she sighs, stretching a bit. "Like, when should Ah let go of this guy so he can hurt on landin', but not hurt too much for me to get in trouble with the Professor?"

I laugh.

She must be sick of our old problems just as much as I am.

She rolls on top of me and looks down at me with a soft grin. "Didn't ya ever wonder why ya always ended up in the mud?"

"I did notice dat one time y' kinda went out of y'way t'find some."

She snickers, peering at me over her folded arms.

I brush a lock of white from her face, almost unconsciously. Stroking her hair was the one move I was allowed from the very start.

"Ah was thinkin', Remy," she says, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she lowers her eyes momentarily. "Maybe Ah'll take a break from the Avengers."

I don't say anything. I'm happy that she wants to give herself some time off, but I don't know how I feel knowing that I may have somehow forced her into this decision.

She must have read my mind because she immediately says, "It's somethin' that Ah was thinkin' about for a while now. Ah was just lookin' for the right opportunity to tell them, but after what happened last night… they probably already put me on the Injured List, so Ah was thinkin' Ah could just use this downtime to let them get adjusted to me not bein' there."

I smirk at her. "Dat de reason why you didn't bother getting up in front of Thor?"

She laughs humorlessly, rolling off of me. "See this is when bein' tough-as-nails all the time pays off. No one suspects ya're playin' hooky."

"Den maybe I'll play hooky wit' you." I turn to my side and gaze down at her, stroking the length of her arm with the back of my knuckles. "Seein' as how my wife is badly injured an' all. She probably needs her husband to be by her side. Take care o' her needs."

She chuckles in a way that makes me feel like we're gearing up for another round. "You're a bad man, Mr. LeBeau," she says huskily, biting her lip.

"I'm your bad man, Mrs. LeBeau."

She pushes her fingers into my hair and pulls me down to capture my lips with hers.

FIN

Another Author's Note: I don't know why I keep ending all my stories with these two having sex now, but such is newlywed life. All characters are owned by Marvel. No monetary profit will ever be made, but reviews feel like profit to me. Please leave me a hello and a "you don't quite suck" and it'll brighten my day.