Firstly, hello people across all three platforms I'm on who stopped by for comments or gave kudos! Thank you so much, y'all really made my day every time I saw a new comment come in. You guys were all so kind and I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know you enjoyed the first chapter :) I'm coming at this as someone who used to write a lot for fun in high school (although never fanfic) and now at 29 I'm trying to rediscover and enjoy the hobbies I used to love so much. Growing up kind of took away the time for me to do fun stuff, so I decided to challenge myself to write the fic I'd been thinking of in my head for forever and i'm glad you guys are wanting to read it too.

Huge thanks again to thehazeofdusk- our convos are really inspiring me to write lots and I super appreciate you taking the time to read some chapters ahead of time and help me sort out a few things I'd been stumbling over :D (and also for all the encouragement)

So as a quick note, I love the evo specific parts of Romy, so I want them to be themselves in this universe even though i love almost all different versions of them...but yeah it I've immediately ditched Remy's bowl cut. there is an in story reason why it happened though (outside of Remy hating the bowl cut, like pretty much everyone ever). You'll find out exactly why with Rogue a couple few chapters down the road. And by a couple few it's gonna be a little bit. But there is a reason outside of "I hate his hair and need to change it now".

I hope the accents are written in a way where you can hear them well enough. I did my best! Haha I'm not super comfortable with French so I'm going with the method of "keep it simple" and trying to only use it (for now) when it can be understood by context clues.

Chapter 2

"Aw, chère, don't tell me y' missed me so much I got y' speechless."

Well that was enough to snap her out of her shock.

Everything she'd thought of saying if she ever saw him again apparently went out of her brain and into the trash the second their eyes met. She took a casual, deep breath, trying to center herself without him noticing. Her chest felt tight and for a brief second, she could only think to herself that there was no way he could actually be standing right in front of her after all the months of radio silence.

"Yeah, right, Gambit," she moved herself into a defensive position, forcing herself to look directly into his unique eyes and not flinch away. She could hardly believe he was right in front of her like his sim this morning, except living and breathing and not something she could make disappear by yelling an emergency code. She'd spent more time than she would ever admit thinking of ways to tell him off if she ever saw him again, but she'd also never thought she'd actually see him again. It was almost too coincidental he was here...unless of course, he wasn't really him…

That concerning thought gave her more questions than comfort: how would Mystique even know about her "adventure" with Gambit? Could she have found out?

He quirked an eyebrow at her, still quietly waiting for her response, never ungluing his eyes from her face. The look in his eyes as they roved over her features was indistinguishable and made her feel so fidgety. She wasn't sure which would make her gut clench more: if it was Mystique staring at her so intensely, plotting something or another, or if it was actually Gambit in front of her.

Clearly, her face gave away more than she'd intended, as she saw his eyes widen fractionally before breaking the silence.. "I know what you're thinkin', chère. 'M not Mystique."

Her eyes narrowed.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, although she could see an upward turn to his lips, apparently knowing her well enough to understand that he was going to have to prove it. Of course, he had always seemed to instinctively understand her so well that it really shouldn't have surprised her.

It was infuriating.

He smirked and swiftly reached forward to grab her gloveless hand before she even knew what was happening. His eyes flashed with mischief and before she knew it, he pulled her hand towards his face, his intention in doing so suddenly very clear. "I'm not afraid. Go ahead. Absorb m' thoughts. See for yourself."

She ripped her hand out of his, stepping back and trying not to flinch upon hearing and seeing the almost exact same thing he'd done on the train ride to New Orleans. This could not actually be happening. There was no way this could actually be him, just casually showing back up in Bayville and acting like no time had passed since they'd last seen each other. As surreal as it was for her to see him again in person, at least she had the presence of mind to respond instead of gaping at him like a fish out of water. "Can't blame me for being suspicious. Mystique bein' here disguised as you is much more likely considering I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she shot at him.

For a split second, she thought she saw an unrecognizable emotion pass over his face, but his face returned to that stupid grin too quick for her to actually process what had happened.

He must have noticed her momentary confusion and decided to use it to his advantage, because he suddenly straightened and closed the distance between them with all the grace of a natural predator. When he stopped advancing, he was close enough she could feel his body heat and she had to force herself to not step back. She kept her eyes locked on his (all the while aware of what a stupid choice that could be) and kept her chin up.

He was still smirking, and it grew more and more aggravating by the second. That stupid grin should have been enough to convince her he was actually himself, although she couldn't help but notice that something behind his smirk was different now after she'd just snapped at him. She couldn't for the life of her determine exactly what was different, but there was something there. Gambit was always confident (to the point of overly confident) but she was almost certain he was faltering slightly for some reason and it made her curious why.

He grinned lazily, his face suddenly betraying none of the conflict she could swear she'd just seen, and shrugged before leaning casually against his bo staff. She rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue. "'Specially when you messaged me before the whole Apocalypse showdown and never heard anything back," he said softly. His smirk didn't quite match his voice or the rest of his face anymore and it made Rogue feel off-kilter. His eyes seemed to be searching hers seriously and with very little sense of mirth. It made her stomach flip (although weirdly not unpleasantly) to see him looking at her so seriously.

There were a million ways she could have responded. Anger was the one she was most comfortable with, but it would also let him get a reaction out of her (which she assumed was what he wanted, and thus she refused to give him the satisfaction). Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and did her best to hold back a sigh. "Can you blame me?"

He looked down, finally breaking their eye contact. Now that his eyes weren't holding her captive, she was able to notice subtle differences about him. His hair was different since she'd seen him last. It was shorter than before, she noticed as he ducked his head to look toward the ground and then off into the distance. She caught herself almost smiling remembering him telling her over a game of cards in their train car how much revenge he'd planned to get on his brother for that terrible bowlcut he'd had-impossible to part right and mostly flat over his head. A travesty, he'd called it. A true travesty that such naturally suave hair had all its style removed and in its place was left a bad attempt at a Ceasar cut and a revenge plot. Last time he'd let his brother convince him a quick cut would do no harm, he'd said before throwing down a card and picking up his next. She hadn't known until hearing his dramatics in that box car she still had the capability to laugh after everything that had happened with Apocalypse, but somehow he'd gotten her to do what everything else had failed, seemingly amping up his antics (somehow dramatic, dry, and sarcastic all at the same time) until the ghost of a smile became a real smile and finally she'd been actually laughing a little again.

Gambit's bangs didn't lay over his forehead anymore, his hair was slightly too short for that. However, she could already tell he'd put an effort into styling it so the flatness of the bowlcut was no more. He'd changed his facial hair too. Gone was the goatee and soul patch, replaced simply by a 5 o' clock shadow. Rogue struggled to tear her eyes away from how strong his jaw looked now, even through his face mask.

He was just as tall as she remembered, but he seemed a little less lanky and a little more sturdy now. She barely had time to notice how serious and exhausted his face looked before a wry smile broke across. This smile was even less genuine this time, as if he were forcing a sense of normalcy into his actions. He looked back at her and she fought to keep from fidgeting under his intense gaze. "Nah. And I know it ain't gonna mean much, but I woulda been there if I coulda. M' hands were...just a little tied up at the moment."

"Too tied up for a quick text?" The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to filter them. It gave too much away and she wasn't comfortable with him knowing she had noticed his lack of showing up (or even just responding) or worse that it had bothered and upset her.

Despite her discomfort at basically admitting to him she had been emotionally affected by his failing to even respond, she was slightly comforted when almost immediately his face gave him away in return. He seemed to react before he could stop himself as he winced slightly, enough that she understood what she had seen (this time) before he covered and hid the grimace with practiced ease. Whatever had held him up, he clearly must have preferred the idea of a life or death battle with Apocalypse. That or maybe, she couldn't stop herself from thinking, he actually did regret leaving her hanging slightly. The first option was more likely (again), but she couldn't stop herself from hoping that somewhere deep down the time they'd spent talking and learning each other in New Orleans could have led him to care that he'd basically ghosted her. She couldn't tell if she had just spent enough time around him (and with him in her head) that she could see through his poker face, or if he just wasn't trying as hard to keep up the facade with her. She also wasn't sure which option she liked less.

"Probably woulda made this whole situation better if I coulda. But yeah too tied up even for that. Sorry, chère. Looks like you had the whole situation handled though, based on what I heard. I knew you would."

She struggled to not show her confusion or pride at his admission of knowing she would be able to handle Apocalypse, but knew it was on her face anyway. She wanted to chalk it up to bullshit and a very clear attempt to blow off the whole situation and still stay in her good graces (for whatever reason), but she knew that wasn't completely fair of her. She might not hear from his psyche very often, but she was pretty sure she understood him well enough without him being in her head at the current moment. Just from being around him for a decent amount of time, she'd gotten a pretty good idea of what to expect from Gambit. He'd been right when he'd talked about how similar they were.

The part of her that would admit their similarities and her understanding of him knew he wouldn't just throw fake praise her way. He was a lot of things and incredibly good at flattering people when he wanted, but she knew he also felt they'd both been lied to enough and despite a lifetime of looking out only for himself, he hadn't been able to find it within himself to bullshit her in New Orleans outside of what had been necessary to save his dad. She had no confirmation outside of that miniscule grimace, but it told her that same mentality had potentially carried over through now and been at least partially genuine. This made her feel better and uncomfortable at the same time. She wanted to assume the worst of him because it'd sure be a lot easier to decide he'd been off running some scam or in a club and too busy to follow through on his promise to look out for her.

However, as she had reasoned with herself many times before, it wasn't entirely fair for her to be mad he hadn't come to help or even just let her know he'd gotten her voicemail. He probably hadn't meant he himself would be looking out for her and even if he did, he wasn't her babysitter meant to be watching out for her 24/7. Even if he'd meant their goodbye (and the second card) as an actual promise to look out for her or some sort of alliance or pact or understanding, that didn't require him to be at her beck and call or for him to have to come help her to make up for him dragging her into his life to use her powers for his gain. On top of that, he could have very easily changed his mind about her even after leaving her a way to get in contact. The logical explanation she'd found for herself months ago still didn't seem to help her frustration when she'd been alone thinking about it, let alone standing right in front of him.

"You know, next time you could just use your powers. Mystique can't copy them."

With that, she turned around and started to walk away, unsure of what else she should do and too unsettled to try to continue to banter or start a fight with him. What exactly was she supposed to do? How exactly was one supposed to act around the guy who kidnapped her but who she felt a weird kinship and understanding for? She'd barely made it three steps before she felt a hand grab her own, spinning her back around in his direction. Although she now found herself facing toward him instead of away, she couldn't mistake the sudden, strong sense of déjà vu that hit her. Knowing him, it had to be at least partially intentional. She felt herself freeze momentarily and hoped her recovery was quick enough he wouldn't notice.

Before she could pull away, she heard him speak in that same tone he'd used the last time he grabbed her hand like this. It stopped her in her tracks, frozen back in that moment so many months ago. This time though, instead of a quick squeeze and letting go of her hand along with his lucky card, his hand was pulling her back into his space with a surprisingly gentle grip.

She was almost too stunned to speak (a feeling she was hating more and more the longer it went on), the majority of her feeling like she was stuck in some sort of hyper realistic dream. Speechless was not usually a word anyone would use to describe Rogue, but here she was unable to speak up at all. No matter how much time she'd spent thinking of what she would say to him if she ever saw him again (more time than she would ever admit to anyone), she hadn't prepared herself enough, clearly. He was right in front of her and she couldn't get any words out of her throat. This was so surreal.

When she finally did allow herself to look back up into his eyes, she knew there was no way she could continue to deny this was happening. He was real and he was here, as confusing and warm and infuriating as before. His hand was gentle where it still held hers (even though he'd certainly gotten her attention and pulled her close enough into his space that he could have let go), and she was hit with the smell she'd been trying to forget since New Orleans last February: cloves, spices, and something she didn't think she could quite place, but was uniquely Gambit.

"Cain't let you head that way, chère."

She glared at him and ripped her hand away. "You're gonna have to stop me then, Gambit."

"Remy."

When she didn't verbally respond, the weirdly calm expression he'd been wearing on his face was suddenly replaced by that damn smirk again. If nothing else, at least smirking was something she expected of him. It made it easier for her to feel grounded and like she could handle whatever he threw at her. "M' real name's not Gambit," he offered in explanation.

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. They both knew she was aware of that. They both also knew he didn't need to tell her; she already knew both of his names. "So?"

"So I think after N'awlins s'only right you can use m' other name."

"Flattered, I guess, but this ain't exactly a social call and we ain't exactly friends catchin' up, Gambit," she moved to step away in her intended direction and he stepped with her in the same direction as she did so, still keeping her well within his reach.

He frowned as he locked his eyes on hers, holding her in his red on black gaze. "You sure about that, Rogue?Cause from where I'm standin', don't look like we're exactly enemies either." She was vaguely aware of a warm sensation that felt like it was spreading through her head.

She wrinkled her nose in frustration and fought the urge to lean back from him further. "Stop tryin' to do that eye charmin' crap, Gambit," she said, putting emphasis on his codename, hoping to put some sort of distance between them, if he wouldn't back down and allow for physical distance.

She was fairly certain she didn't imagine his strong cheekbones warmed slightly, as it wasn't something she was accustomed to seeing on his face. "Wasn't tryin' ta, Rogue." at her raised eyebrow, he put his hands up in his defense. "Honest. Was jus' hoping you'd relax a little...didn't mean t' actually start charmin' ya."

Rogue was pretty sure if she rolled her eyes anymore she'd give herself a migraine, but she found herself rolling her eyes yet again as she turned around to try and walk away...yet again.

...And found her hand wrapped in his (yet again), although this time his grip was strong enough to stop her in her tracks and firmly keep her hand in his.

"Damn it, Cajun! Let. Go. I'm leaving. That way."

"Already told you, chère. Not an option."

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him, not surprised in the slightest to find his expression mirroring hers. She ripped her hand out of his grip. "Sucks for you then cause that's where I'm goin'."

As she stepped to turn and walk away, he swiftly moved in time with her, effectively blocking her intended path this time, bo staff extending his reach.

"Like I said, Rogue. Can't letcha go this way."

She raised an eyebrow, muscles tensing as she mentally prepared herself to fight him. Whatever was in that direction, he must be tasked with keeping the X men away from it. "Guess you're just gonna have to let the big guy down then cause I'm goin' that way and I don't take orders from you."

He frowned and it took her a moment to process how damn tall he was as he straightened to his full height. She hadn't even realized how his defensive posture and bunched shoulders for most of their conversation had hid it until this moment when he stood tall. She might still be hoping for another growth spurt but she had thought he was probably old enough he'd done his growing...how the hell did he seem even taller now? Rogue wasn't sure if it was a mixture of false memory and being too close to him or what, but he seemed at least a few inches taller than before. Maybe he was younger than she'd guessed? "Don't care so much 'bout what Magneto thinks right now, Rogue."

"You're just back workin' for him."

Gambit's nose crinkled and she recognized his eerily serious expression becoming frustrated. It was an expression she knew she could identify on his face-she'd seen it enough in New Orleans. "Workin' for someone don' mean you have t' follow rules and regulations every second, chère. Jus' means I have a few guidelines I gotta follow that ain't mine." Rules and regulations like the X men have. He didn't say it outloud, but she didn't need him to anyway; she heard it loud and clear.

She waved him off, annoyed. "Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Swamp Rat. Now you gonna get outta my way? Or am I gonna have to make you?" When he chose to smirk again but didn't rise to the bait, she lunged, fist raised, hoping her making the first move would give her some kind of advantage. She was smart enough to know that with Gambit, she needed one.

His smirk was now a full blown grin as he dodged her punch easily, bo staff sweeping to catch her feet. She jumped and swung at him again, even more annoyed when he let out a quick dark laugh. "Been lookin' for a good fight for a while, chère. Happy to oblige, 'specially for such a pretty girl."

She let out a frustrated growl and the fight began. For every kick and punch she sent his way, he blocked her with practiced ease, dodging and swiping at her, laughing and chattering about as they went on. Occasionally, when he would block her fist, his hand would grab hold and instead of letting go she was met with...corrections? Advice? It was like he was playing with her, like they were training or sparring and not fighting. Every few seconds of silence was met with him interjecting something new as she felt frustration and annoyance (and confusion) fill her up to the tipping point. Every time she heard "C'mon, chère. I know Wolvie taught you better than t' hit from that angle on someone half a foot taller than you" or "aw, y' can do better than that, chère. Plant y' foot t' give y' more power" or a little tounge tut with "c'mon, p'tite, I know y' can dodge quicker than that-almos' got y' there" or " Bien. Aim a little lower next time and y' got me", her frustration with him mounted more and more. Even when they really got moving around their space and his cards started flying, they seemed to her half hearted at best; the glowing yellow barely scorching the ground upon explosion.

Everything about the situation frustrated her, but there was something even more grinding her gears. It was more than him treating this as some big game (annoying, but standard when it came to Gambit): he would block and dodge and throw the occasional card (and jabber on and on), but she found herself struggling to recall if he'd done anything but defend the entire fight. Outside of the occasional explosion, which were either not as intimidating as they used to be or just weren't big enough to actually hurt her due to the speed he had to throw them, he wasn't really attacking back. Any aggression she could have sworn she'd noticed in his fighting style in the past (fighting one of her teammates or the Rippers) was just...not there. She was struck again with the feeling that it was like he considered this nothing more than a sparring match between pals, not an actual fight.

Come to think of it, she wasn't quite sure she could ever remember him fighting her with the same aggression she'd seen with others, but she'd always assumed it was because her power wasn't all that threatening unless she got too close. Gambit was generally quick enough to be able to get away from her, so trying to use her powers was a moot point unless she could distract him. Despite all her training with Wolverine, she knew that unless she used her powers she still wasn't as big a threat as other mutants around. Not like a punch was as worrisome as a laser beam. She didn't so much see Gambit putting out less effort when he fought her, just usually seemed to be focusing less on taking her out quickly and more on...something else she'd never been able to figure out. Still, she hated feeling babied and coddled.

She jumped back from one of his cards, which yet again left barely a small scorch mark upon explosion. "What the hell, Gambit? Wouldja shut up and let me pass or ya gonna put your money where your mouth is and actually try to fight back?" He stood from his defensive crouch and was almost so still she felt like time had stopped. She didn't wait for him to respond before continuing. "I'm not a baby and you ain't trainin' me."

He grinned (again) but this time it reached his eyes. "Non? But we could do some private tutoring if you wantin', chère."

She snorted, but chose to sit on her responses, letting him make the next move.

When he did, his choice surprised her: he retracted his bo staff and took a step closer to her, with no intention of fight in his stance or eyes. When his spoke again, there was also none of the previous suggestion in his tone, but maybe a slight bit of exasperation. "Chère, you have t' know that's not what I'm doin'." He was back to that voice she'd been trying to remove from her brain for months: warm honey and sweet spice steeped into every word, like a cup of tea paired with a good book and a rainy day. It made her chest both relax and clench at the same time, a feeling she wasn't very fond of.

He stepped toward her, looking like he expected her to step backward in turn, keeping with their previous pattern. Perhaps because she wanted to be obstinate, or because she wanted to surprise him and do the opposite of what he expected, or because she was curious what he meant, she stood her ground and let him come closer to her until they were once again close enough she could see the details of how his hair naturally but gently swooped up from his forehead, even when shorter. Something about him felt older. It wasn't necessarily his physical changes, but there was an air about him that felt older and more...tired. His eyes, as usual, filled in a few gaps on what he was thinking about, but not enough she could (ever) fully understand. He looked determined now, but still faltering slightly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she never got to hear what he was going to say as his eyes widened and the next thing she knew she was spun in the opposite direction, pinned between a crate and his body.

See y'all soon! Thank you again for all the support :D