Pairings: Rogue/Remy, and Jean/Scott

Archive: It's not archived except for here. If for some reason you want to, e-mail me. It will eventually be up at my site 'Beautiful Alone'- http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/rachelpage

E-mail: TARGETER14@AOL.com or ravenwings@sailormoon.com

Disclaimer: Do I have to do this every time? Just in case, they're not mine.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I should be beat over the head with a blunt toaster. I finished this chapter about a week ago. After it was done, I just let it sit on my H-drive. The muse reminded me when I was typing away at my Live Journal that I should probably post the damned thing.

This chapter may be a bit...jumpy. Musical influences while writing- Boom Boom Japan and No One Sleep in Tokyo from Initial D, Du Hast by Rammstein, and The Breaking of the Fellowship composed by Howard Shore. Does that explain why this is...umm...strange?

~~~~~

Slowly, as if climbing out of a dark tunnel, Remy woke up. He opened his eyes, and immediately blinked in pain at the bright light assailing them. A film of water formed over his eyes, and his surroundings blurred.

"Remy, what you doin'?" He hissed.

"De light, it hurts my eyes." Remy whispered back.

Wordlessly, Jean-Luc reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, then gave them to Remy.

What a time to remember something like that, Remy reflected morosely, blinking away the tears. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and he stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. "Where...?"

"You have reached sanctuary, Mr. LeBeau." A cultured voice met his ears, and a blue furry visage leaned over him. "Of course, this is not a church, so it is not literally a sanctuary, but I believe you grasp my point. You are in the X-Mansion, property of Charles Xavier, and home to the X-Men. You can call me Dr. McCoy, or Hank."

He stared up in puzzlement at the doctor for a moment, before-

"Rogue!" Remy sat up abruptly, nearly hitting heads with the doctor. "I remember! Where is she?"

Firmly, Hank put two enormous furry paws on Remy's shoulder, and pushed him back onto the pillow. "Miss. Rogue is...well, not exactly fine. But rest assured, at our medical facility, she is receiving medical attention secondary only to that of the legendary Miss. Moira on Muer Island. And in her current state, I don't think we shall be sending her there anytime soon."

Remy stubbornly sat up again. "Tell me de truth. How is she?"

Hank sighed, and began busying himself with a tray of medical implements. Remy took this as an opportunity to look around, taking in the white and beige surroundings. Definitely a medical facility. Two unoccupied beds took up the rest of the room. Two doors led out of it, one an elevator.

"Miss Rogue is not doing well, to say the least. She has severe internal injuries. I can't imagine what Sinister was thinking when he beat her so badly."

Swinging his legs over the edge of the metal bed, Remy rubbed at still bleary eyes, and tugged at the medical gown he was currently wearing. "Can you help her?"

The doctor turned pain-filled furry features to Remy. "I'm sorry. Without one of those collars that Sinister was using to suppress your powers, I can't do surgery on her. It's not just her ability to absorb mutant abilities- her invulnerability doesn't allow me to 'open her up' to put it crudely. It's merely a matter of time before she...departs."

The world seemed to drop away beneath him, and emotionally, he began to burn. "You have got to be kidding me." He spat out, almost too stunned to speak. "What about Sinister's facilities! Isn't dere something left over dat you can use? You can't expect me to sit here, and let 'er die!"

Hank shook his head, pulling off his spectacles and wiping them on his white coat. "I am so very sorry. We have already tried. There was nothing left. Logan- Wolverine- is currently trying to locate Sinister in Europe, but we are not having much luck. Our mutant detection system is able to track our team member that he currently holds hostage, but he's always one step ahead of us. Rest assured, we are trying, and I will do the best I can to preserve her life. I just don't think there's anything else I can do."

Remy nodded, feeling numbness creep down his arms and legs. I just can't believe that she managed to survive all those beatings...managed to survive taking on Polaris and Sinister...survived Arclight's attack...and is going to die here, slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut, and punched the wall in frustration. "It's just not fair!"

"No, it's not." Hank soothed, picking up a role of gauze and wrapping it around Remy's hand. Remy looked him straight in the eye.

"Is she...really going to die? Or is this some sort of nightmare."

Hank's eyes flooded with pain and sympathy, and Remy knew the truth. "I am so sorry, Mr. LeBeau. I can't think of anything I can do." The furry mutant's voice wavered slightly, guilt leaking through his words. He's a doctor. It's his job to preserve life. He probably feels helpless, and you're making things worse. The anger inside him slowly drained away, leaving only a painful emptiness.

"How long can I stay 'ere wid Rogue?" he asked finally, voice slightly detached.

"As long as is necessary. Perhaps you shall consider staying on with us as an X-Men?"

"Maybe." Remy slid off the bed, flexing his hands. "Can I have some clothes? And is it ok if I go for a walk? I need some time alone."

Hank eyed him doubtfully. "You seem to be all right, I suppose. If you feel disoriented, or nauseated, I want you to return immediately." When Remy nodded compliance, he smiled reassuringly, though the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "I'll see about getting you some clothes."

~~~~~

Over the course of the next few days, Remy detached himself from human contact. He would go for long walks in the woods around the mansion in a futile effort to clear his mind, visibly shunning company. He had been reassured by the leader of the X-Men, a man who contained a quiet dignity that spoke of great intelligence and kindness, that he could stay as long as he wanted. Despite this though, Remy did his best to spend time away from the mansion, and the pity that was in the eyes of all he met. He didn't need pity. He needed a miracle.

Despite his reluctance to interact with any of the X-Men, he never found himself away from the medical facilities for more than and hour at a time. When he was there, he sat by Rogue's unconscious form, stroking her hair, and quietly whispering stories of his childhood to her. He was trying so hard to catch up on the time they had missed, and was trying to rekindle something in the hollowness inside.

When Rogue did die, it was not with a bang, but with a barely audible whimper. It was not a flamboyant scene straight out of movie or romance novel, nor an honorable death on the battlefield. It was a quiet passing that just hurt.

He had been out walking again. Earlier that day, Jean had tried to strike up a conversation with him, to offer condolences and reassurances he didn't want to hear. So, he left. When he came back, a faint feeling of displacement stirred the air of the silent house.

Eyes widening in fear, Remy ran for the nearest elevator, and slapped the button for the ground floor, dread almost tangible around him. When he arrived, there was no one in the small hospital, and Rogue's body, still in her corner bed, was covered by a sheet. The X-Men were giving him time to say goodbye in peace. His heart was shattered.

Slowly, almost too afraid to breathe because it would disturb the serene atmosphere in the room, he walked over to her bed and sat down in the seat beside it. Then, still slowly, he drew the sheet back and folded it over her chest.

She could be sleeping, Remy thought bleakly. Her eyes were still closed, eyelashes charcoal crescents against her too pale skin. Her chest didn't rise and fall in breath though, and she looked so cold. Remy allowed himself a brief moment of agony, running his hand over full, but eerily pale, lips lightly. This time, not a whisper of breath escaped them.

His throat closed up, and Remy tried hard to swallow, hands fisting in his lap. The hollowness that had invaded him for days had fled him when he really needed it, leaving behind pain so fresh and vivid he felt he was going to die too. He gasped for air, squeezing his eyes shut, and laying his forehead on the edge of the bed.

"Oh God, Rogue." he whispered to the air, tears rolling down his face. He had worked so hard to find her after so many years- abandoned his life for her- and now she was gone. And he was still there. "Please, come back Roguie." He fumbled under the sheet, grabbing her ice-cold hand tightly, trying to let some of his body warmth flow into her. Her gloves were gone- someone had already prepped her for the morgue. "Don'...don' leave me here, I can't live, please, Remy can't live without you..."

Hours later, he finally let go of her hand, tucking it neatly under the sheet, and letting out a deep shuddering breath. His eyes burned, swollen from tears, and he felt exhausted. It was time to let go of what was already gone.

Bending over, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. The emptiness was back. Remy looked at her one last time, running hands over the two-toned hair. He knew that when he came back, she would be gone, and he would never get a chance to do this again. Stroking a hand lovingly down her face one last time, he left in search of a bar where he could just forget for a little while.

~~~~~

Raven Darkholme was sitting at the kitchen table, head listlessly lying on the surface. She had returned from the tunnels of New York bleeding from numerous wounds. Without a word she had allowed the blind Destiny to tend to them- how the woman knew they even existed was anyone's guess- before sitting at the table, and staring into space.

Irene limped slowly into the kitchen, and took a seat opposite Raven. Neither woman said a word for a few moments.

"Did you know this would happen?" Raven asked finally, sitting up and setting bloodshot and teary eyes on her companion. The elderly woman inclined her head slightly.

"Yes...and no. The future is hard to read. Sometimes it gives me information in the form of symbols. I saw you, bleeding, after you left the apartment- and the Queen of Hearts burning. I did not know that the Queen was Rogue."

"Ah. So she's...dead then." There was silence again. "What do you see now?"

"I see you." Irene said serenely. "In Mississippi. Back where it all began. I see you give Rogue's letters to Mr. LeBeau. Then, Mr. LeBeau surrounded by brown water...he is smiling. He is dead by your hand."

"Is that so?" Raven chuckled bitterly. "Good. He deserves to die. If he had never shown up, this never would have happened. Rogue would still be here, with the Brotherhood, instead of...dead. Dead with the X-Men."

"The future has many paths Raven- yet they all eventually lead to the same point. I shall tell you now, it was Rogue's fate to be with the X-Men. Both Rogue and yourself have taken the worst possible route though. If you had told her when her powers began to cause problems-"

"No!" Raven slammed her fist on the table. "If I had told her, she would have gone straight to that twit Xavier for help."

Irene regarded her calmly. "Of course. Like I said, it was her destiny to be with the X-Men. I can tell you now though- she would have lived."

When Irene didn't say anything else, Raven stood up, the guilt that stained her soul kept out of her eyes. "I am going to make sure that LeBeau comes to Mississippi." She stiffly walked out of the room, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

~~~~~

"What will you do now?" Professor X asked calmly as Remy packed a handful of clothes into a duffel bag thoughtfully provided by the millionaire. "I have arranged for a funeral service to be held in several days time. Will you be here for that?"

'Non.' Remy zipped up the bag, as he carried out a telepathic conversation with the permanently injured man. He didn't feel like talking to anyone- perhaps there was some deep seeded psychological issues there. He didn't mind telepathic conversations with the one man that didn't show him sympathy though. 'I don't think anyone really knew Rogue. I didn't, though I know that I loved- love- her. I don't t'ink I could listen to a bunch of strangers talk about a person dey didn't know. As for where I'm going to go...back to Mississippi to tie up some loose ends, and say goodbye in my own way.'

"I understand." Xavier inclined his head. "You shall always have a place here, you know."

'Oui.' The Cajun man smiled weakly. 'Merci for all your kindness, Professor.'

And, he left.

As he opened the door to the taxi he had called to take him to the airport, Remy glanced up at the sky. Overhead, the sleek black shape of the X-Jet was carving its way through the air. The short man they called Logan, but Remy knew as Wolverine, had finally established a solid trail on Sinister. They were going to retrieve their teammate.

Remy hoped they killed the bastard.

He had been tempted to go along, but revenge wasn't a way to fight. It only made people callous and hardened to life. Besides, he had other things to do.

Vaguely, Remy wondered what happened to Rogue's foster mother. He had a fair idea though. As he closed the cab door behind him, he reached into a pocket of his new jacket, and removed the note that had mysteriously wound up in his pocket on the night Rogue died and he had hit the bars of New York.

Return to where it all began. The note said simply. Enclosed was a plane ticket to Friar's Point.

"Back to the beginning, eh?" he commented to himself, ignoring the odd look from the cab driver.

~~~~~

Booted feet crunched on pebbles, as the owner of those feet walked upstream alongside the broad and murky Mississippi River. Sunlight through olive green leaves struck red-brown hair, setting it alight. Red on black eyes narrowed, as Remy LeBeau stopped in front of, and stared up at an old tree.

He probably wouldn't even have recognised it, if it weren't for the broken limb hanging out over the water. He winced, ducking his head and letting bangs cover his eyes as memories attacked him.

"Remy, come back! Ah think you're too far out. The branch could break!"

"Roguie, it's ok!"

"LeBeau."

Remy turned around slowly. Raven Darkholme stepped out of the tree line, dressed in pristine white, and carrying a bag. She was in the form Remy had first met her in, the aging woman with the grey streaked hair. Pale blue eyes filled with pain and anger fixed on him as she halted a mere metre from him.

"Nice to see you too, Madame Darkholme. Ça va?"

"Cut the pleasantries LeBeau. I'm here for only two reasons."

"Did you know dat dis was a special place for us?" Remy asked conversationally, deliberately ignoring what she said, and looking up at the broken branch hanging. He could almost see two children climbing over the branches. The little boy was dropping leaves in her hair, while the girl scrunched up her nose and glared at him. He felt tears sting his eyes as those few, precious memories came fast and thick.

Raven blinked, seemingly confused. "What?"

He turned to face her, a wry smile on his face. "For Rogue and Remy. We shared our first kiss, in that tree." He pointed to the tree where it had all began. "Dat was where I fell in love with her. Didn't know it at the time, of course. Your note told me to return to where it all began. Guess dis is the place."

The older woman was silent, and he smiled again, bitterly this time. "What do you want, Raven?"

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind whispering through the trees, whipping blonde and red hair. As small waves formed on the brown water, Remy and Raven, who shared more than they could possibly understand, locked eyes in a battle of wills. Finally, Raven looked away, and reached into her bag.

"Here." She thrust a pile of papers into his hands. Her wrinkled fingers hesitated on them for a moment, clearly showing how unwilling she was to let go of this small part of the girl she called daughter. She finally withdrew though, glaring at him resentfully.

Opening the top one and quickly scanning the top lines, Remy's eyes widened. They were letters. To him. From Rogue. His gloved fingers tightened around the precious documents. "Merci." he managed to rasp out. "What else do you want?"

"To kill you." They fell silent again, and the wind picked up.

Finally, Remy spoke. "Why?"

"It's all your fault. Destiny, my oracle, told me she was dead. If you had never shown up, it would never have happened." Tears began to roll down paper-white cheeks, and slowly Raven shifted back into the shape of Mystique. The tears remained though. "It's all your fault." She whispered brokenly.

With a soft sigh, Remy turned around again to look at the tree. "I don' care if you kill me, Raven." He said flatly. "But you're deludin' yourself. I wasn't entirely responsible for her death."

Tears were flowing down the woman's face now. "She was my daughter! I loved her!"

"I loved her too!" Remy yelled, finally snapping. His angry statement echoed through the empty area, tearing up the quiet. A nearby flock of roosting birds flew startled in to the air, squawking discontentedly. "It was you who sold us out to dat bastard Sinister! It's all your fault. Just like it's my fault for not saving her. We both screwed up."

"No!" She yelled back, hand moving like lightning and taking a gun from her bag and pointing it at Remy. "It wasn't my fault!"

Remy stared at her fearlessly, no longer caring if he lived or died. "We both screwed up." He repeated softly, then savagely repeated "We both screwed up!"

Raven was sobbing helplessly now, eyes almost maniacal with sorrow. The gun wavered in her hand, as a blue finger tightened on her finger. A droplet of sweat ran down Remy's back, and he nibbled lightly on his lip. And then, a single gunshot rang out- and Remy watched himself die.

Remy LeBeau fell in the water, a neat gunshot wound in his head, and a sad, almost satisfied look on his face. For a moment, there was a terrifying stillness. No birds chirped, and even the wind died. Then, as Remy watched in a strange, detached kind of horror, the corpse's face- his own face- slowly melted back into that of Mystique.

The wind picked up again.

His jacket blew around him, and the sunlight- it was a perfect day, if a little windy for late summer- caressed his face. Bending down at the edge of the water, he gently reached out and closed her eyes, before pushing her out into the water to drift downstream, or sink to the bottom. If anyone ever found her, people would just assume it was another mutant execution. They weren't uncommon.

Mystique had had her revenge on the two people she wanted to blame for Rogue's death. And as for Remy...

"Remy LeBeau is now dead."

~~~~~

Ok, explanation time. Some of you may be wondering right about now- why didn't I let Rogue die in the previous chapter in the Marauder's base? Answer: Death is a very messy affair. Think of all those stories you have read about people dying tragically in the arms of their loved ones. Then factor this in- when people die, their bowels release. Now, it might have been horribly poignant and touching (and incredibly cornball) for Rogue to die in Remy's arms- but death really isn't romantic, when angsting love interest is getting unmentionable substances all over their pants, is it?

The last little bit may seem confusing as well, but I'm not going to explain that now. Everything will become clear in the epilogue- and that will be up within two days, I guarantee it. I'm proofreading it now.

Please review, and tell me what you thought of this chapter- I'm really uncertain about it.