"Knock, knock." Jean poked her head around the door to Warren's office.

"Hey gorgeous! Come on in." He put his pen down and scooted back from his desk as she approached him and, to his delightful surprise, promptly took a seat in his lap, lacing her fingers behind his neck.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Worthington?" He asked playfully, slipping a hand between her knees and slightly under her black skirt. Jean giggled, leaning in to kiss him. He was more than happy to oblige.

It had been three days since Elisabeth's death and Warren had been nothing but love and support to Jean, revealing a side she never knew existed in her husband. She was a hundred percent pleased with the reverse and indulged in every second, even giving him a little in return. He had earned it.

"Are you very busy?" Jean asked, tracing tantalizing patterns on his ear with her tongue as she ran her hands through the fine hairs on the back of his neck.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm pretty busy. Why? What do you have in mind?"

She grinned against his earlobe, her left hand trailing down his washboard abs to the zipper on his tailored black pants. Before Warren knew what was happening, she was slithering against him until she was kneeling between his knees. He sat back, shocked. She wasn't going to do what he thought she was going to do was she? Here?

She licked her lips wet and smiled up at him, framing the bulge in his pants with her palms. Warren inhaled deeply, reveling in the feel of bringing a dignified woman like his wife to her knees, literally, in his office, right under his desk. He was winning.

Was, that is, until the door knocked and Jean's fiery head shot up from where she was unzipping his pants and peered toward the door. "Oh my goodness." She turned back to him, "I guess this will have to wait until another time." Warren briefly contemplated reminding her there was room for her UNDER the desk, so she wouldn't be seen, but he decided the wiser and let her go, letting another beautiful woman gain entrance.

Jean scoped her up and down, and the other one did likewise to her as they passed each other. Immediately, tension arose.

Jean left them alone, though, obviously trusting her husband enough now. For which you can guarantee Warren was thankful, because he wanted very much to be alone with this creature. She was tall, slim yet rounded in all the right spots, with straight, fine hair that fell just past her neck. She wore a white skirt-suit, the skirt just short enough to make Warren want to peak, revealing her long, creamy legs.

"Emma." She said simply sitting down, crossing those legs at just such a suggestive pace.

"And I'm Warren" He returned.

"And I'm qualified."

"I'll bet."

"I'll dance."

"I know."

"I'll waitress."

"I'm aware."

A brief pause until she runs her pink tongue over her ivory straight teeth and replies in a throaty purr. "I'll do anything."

Warren too is silent for a second, again sitting back thoughtfully...

**

"Jeannie." Jean turned to see Logan poke his head through the dressing room door. She tied her plum-colored robe around her thin waist and met him at the door.

"What's up, Logan?"

"Looks like your husband doesn't waste any time. He's already found a replacement for Betts."

Jean's eyes got wide. "What? Already! Are you sure?"

He nodded solemnly. "Positive, considering she's at the bar as we speak, waiting to come in."

Jean peaked around his head but couldn't get a view of the bar. "How is she?"

Logan shrugged, nonchalantly averting his eyes from the redhead's cleavage. She caught his attention and the two shared a playful chuckle. "Tease," he mumbled before answering her question. "Does the word bitch mean anything to you?"

She sighed. "Damn."

"It gets better. She's blonde."

"Blonde!?" Things immediately pieced together for Jean. The blonde that had entered Warren's office earlier- it had to be. "Damn," she repeated.

"We haven't had a blonde in the joint since that Dazzle girl." Logan informed.

"Dazzler," Jean corrected, remembering the woman Jean had actually punched in the right eye after she was telling all of the men that Jean had AIDS. She shook her head. "I don't have good luck with blondes."

He grinned. "You'll have even worse with this one. The name's Emma. I am holier than thou might as well be written across her pretty li'l forehead."

Jean closed her eyes or a moment and reopened them. "Send her on in," she said reluctantly, leaving the dressing room door ajar and walking back to her table. She glanced once more at Betsy's vacant vanity, suppressing the urge to cry all over again.

Rogue looked back at Jean in her mirror from where she applied silver eyeliner. "What's the wrong, sugah?"

Jean turned in her seat, but before she could say anything, the sleek, slender woman stepped confidently through the door.

"Rogue, meet Emma, our new replacement." Rogue turned to Emma, stunned. Jean continued. "Emma, this is Rogue, our resident Southern belle, also new to the party."

Rogue extended her right hand for a polite handshake; Emma simply pretended not to see it and placed her vanity case on Betsy's table. Rogue clenched her fist, contemplated sticking Emma on her nose, but thought better of it and just exchanged a look of disgust with Jean.

Jean gave Emma a quick run-through of the way things were done, threw Emma her waitress uniform, and left her to fend for her self, opting instead to chat with Rogue about she and Remy's fast-approaching anniversary. Around eight, Ororo stepped through the doors, her look of surprise almost instantly recovered upon noticing Betsy's old dressing table no longer empty.

Jean introduced Emma and Ororo, and again there was tension. Both women were dignified, sophisticated, sleek. There would not be room for both of them in this club. The two beautiful women simply exchanged nods and went back to preparing for the night.

Logan peeked through the door once again, this time with the club's black portable phone in his right hand. "Dixie, phone." He said simply.

"Hello?" Rogue asked into the receiver, giggling at a comment Jean made about Remy not being able to get enough. Her smile faded instantly. "Oh mah Gawd!"

Jean and Ororo shot up from their seats, coming close. "What? What is it?"

She plugged her other ear in an attempt to hear the person on the other line better. "Alraght, alraght. Ah'll be raght there."

She pressed flash and tossed the phone on the loveseat, frantically scurrying around the room to get dressed. "It's Remy," she said quickly. "He's at the police station!"

"Goddess, is he alright?" Ororo helped her find her other leather sandal.

"No, he's been taken into custody!"

"What!?" Jean and Ororo gasped.

**


"For the murder of Elisabeth Braddock." The trim officer read from his notepad.

"That's impossible," Jean protested, taking a seat at the questioning table next to Ororo. Rogue sat across from them, comforting Remy's near shocked state.

"I never touched dat girl." He said, rising furiously. Rogue pulled him back down, murmuring for him to stay calm, this was all just a big mistake.

"How can we believe a word he says?" Warren entered, followed by Guy Marks who was holding a manilla folder.

"Warren...?" Jean began, confused at his sudden accusing words. "What's going on? Do you know?"

He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. "Indeed I do, love. It seems Mr. LeBeau here has more of a past than any of us know."

Remy stood slowly, daring him to go any further, then lost strength in his body and slumped back into his chair. Rogue put a hand to his cheek and he turned to look into her bewildered eyes. He kept desperate hold of her eyes while Warren continued, ruining Remy's natural life.

Guy opened the folder in his possession and flashed a photo of Remy surrounded by approximately three other guys. It was dark, they were dressed entirely in black, it was obvious they were doing something they shouldn't have been doing, and were unknowingly being photographed in the process. Before anyone, including Remy, could say a word, Warren spoke.

"Remy is apparently a renowned thief in these parts of New York: Brooklyn, Manhattan, upstate."

There was a pause. "You forgot Long Island," Remy spat, turning from Rogue's eyes.

She gasped, knowing not what to do. "Is... Is this true Remy?" She sputtered.

He nodded slowly, "Is true, chere." He turned on Warren. "But it was a long time ago! I haven't been in dat business since forever!"

"Eight months is hardly forever, Remy."

Remy narrowed his eyes at Warren. "Do you know somet'ing I don't?"

Guy opened his mouth to reveal Warren's previous testimony, but Warren stopped him short. "Let's just say these cops aren't as stupid as you think."

Guy jumped in. " According to her autopsy results, an embryo was found in the Ms. Elisabeth Braddock's abdomen at 9:07 p.m. last night. Fetus was not in the stages of development to make a blood test accessible." He stopped and the information sank into the group.

"I'm telling you, I never touched dat girl!"

Guy sighed. "I'm sorry Mr. LeBeau but we're going to have to hold you here until we can find something." He paused. "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave.

A collective sigh was heard throughout the room and Warren, Ororo, Jean, and Rogue were shooed out.

"Wait." Remy called after them. He seized Rogue's hands and held them to his face, peering almost frantically into her eyes. He could handle whatever came to him, but he wanted Rogue to have nothing to do with it. "Please forgive me, chere, and I don't' care if you hate me, but I did not do dis. But someone did, and dat's why I'm afraid for you. I want you to be safe, Rogue."

"Remy," she began, knowing what was coming.

"No. Please, please stay wit' someone until dis is all sorted out. I don't want you alone." He kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear. "Remy would be not'ing anymore if de Lord took you away from me." She briefly melted against him but stopped her self, unsure to trust or despise. He looked past her shoulder to Ororo. "Ororo please, please chere take her home. Let her stay wit' you. You two can protect each ot'er." Ororo nodded and led Rogue away.

Before leaving the building, Guy Marks pulled Warren aside. "Warren, we can only hold him for forty-eight hours. If we don't anything to convict him within that time we have to let him go."

Warren nodded. "Alright, that's fine. Just keep looking, Marks- her apartment, the club if you have to, everywhere. She was a good woman; I want to make sure she's done justice."

Guy agreed with a nod of the head, respecting Worthington for his honor, and got back to work.

**

"Ah don't know what the hell to believe, 'Ro. Ah mean, my head feels like it's about to explode!"

Ororo sat down on her carpet next to her friend. "I understand how confusing it must be, Rogue. But let us not forget that we mustn't judge Remy on things he has done in the past. We've all done things we are not proud of."

"But he lied to me for so long! For Gawd's sake, we're LIVING together, and he never mentioned this?" She sighed, frustrated and hurt. "Ah just don't believe this whole mess." She snatched a wine cooler from Ororo's hands and downed a long swallow. "This sucks," she grumbled.

Ororo simply sighed, unsure of how to comfort her friend at such a time. Finally, after a bellowing silence, she reached over and wrapped her arms around Rogue's slim frame. The southerner melted into the embrace, crying into Ororo's shoulder. The two women sat, once again gaining from each other as they sat before the African's roaring fire.

**

Noon the next day found Jean and Emma center stage, Jean teaching a regular routine to the club's newest member: Emma Frost.

"I'm tired," Emma said, perching on the edge of the stage and letting her slender legs swing over the side.

Jean fixed the ponytail that swung behind her. "I know you are, Emma, but if you want to get this down by tonight we're going to have to break a sweat."

Emma smiled tightly. "I know that, thank you."

"I'm just trying to make sure you keep your job, that's all. A lot of men loved Betsy and I know what Warren likes."

Emma turned at this, her pretty features slightly amused. "Oh really? Well I don't think so Little Miss Thinks She's So Perfect Because She's Fucking The Boss. Let me let you in on a little secret, EVERYONE'S fucking the boss," she paused and broke into an innocent smile. "Even me. So why don't you quit worrying about me keeping my job and start focusing on you keeping your husband in his own bed... and out of mine."

Jean bit her tongue before she came back with something that was sure to make even the bouncers watching blush. Instead she approached Emma coolly, stopped in front of her, opened her mouth to reply calmly, and cracked her hand across Emma's creamy cheek with a satisfying WHACK.

The blonde gasped, clutching the side of her face where a blotchy whelp was already forming. She straightened immediately to retaliate, but Jean was already slipping into the dressing room. She contemplated following her, but a slight movement to her right caught her attention. It was Logan, watching her from where he leaned in a corner with a gaze that simply said, "Don't even think about it."

On the other side of the dressing room door, Jean was indeed crying unabashedly in her hands. She had always suspected, but no one had ever had the guts to tell her, so she let her self believe it wasn't true. But it was painfully obvious, and Jean knew it. She knew it all along.

"What happened? What's the matter?"

Scott's voice made her jump form her dressing room table and spin around. Scott had entered from the alley door. He tossed his coat in the general direction of the sofa and swiftly made his way to where she stood. She was so close; he wanted to touch her, to hold her and make her wish she'd never said her vows to Warren Worthington III. He didn't though, for fear that touching her just once would make her shatter or disintegrate, like a pillar of ash or salt.

"Why are you crying?" He asked softly.

"Again." She finished for him, looking up a bit embarrassed.

"I wasn't going to say that."

She shook her head. "No, no, it's true. I'm always sad, aren't I? Just one...sad...mess," she finished. He dared to swipe a scarlet strand from her forehead and rest his palm against her chin and cheek, initiating eye contact. She complied, sighing deeply as if life was suddenly much better.

Her heart thumped wildly inside of her. For one fleeting second, she thought about Warren, the club, the rape, the suicide/murder. And then, there was nothing. There was nothing at all except her, him, and now. Now, now, now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed him against her lips, forcing his open with her mouth. He was uncertain at first, too stunned to really respond, but tentatively his hands were planted on her hips and his head angled to accommodate their passionate embrace.

Scott's mind was drowning in her. She's married; I don't care. He hurts her- I know it. If she chooses me, who am I to argue? It's a sin. SHE'S a sin! A few sinful thoughts entered Scott's own mind at the feel of her warm body pressing eagerly against his.

Jean broke the kiss quickly but kept her face close to his. She closed her eyes and breathed, "Scott."

"Hmm."

"Take me home." She said.

He stepped back a step. "Oh, um," he coughed nervously, "Of course."

"Scott."

He met her eyes once more. "Yeah?"

"I mean home with you."

His heart skipped a complete beat. "With me?"

She nodded slowly, approaching him. "If that's alright with you."

Scott didn't return with anything, just took her hand and proceeded out the alley door. Logan awaited them outside.

They stopped dead. "Where are you two headed?"

Jean opened her mouth to speak but swallowed the lie before it could be said, choosing honesty. "You know where, Logan."

"Yeah, I suppose I do." He said slowly as he skimmed over Scott and back at Jean. He shook his head. "If he ever found out..."

She closed the gap between them. "He won't. He'll never know, Logan, if none of us tell him." She stopped before adding bitterly, "Besides, we all know you can keep a secret. After all, how long have you been doing it for Warren? I guess it's only right I'm the last to know about my husband's adultery."

Jean," he started, "It wasn't ever like that and you know it."

"Then what was it like, Logan? Please tell me because for God's sake, I am more than tired of playing the fool."

"Sure, I knew, but I didn't want to hurt you, Red. I knew it'd upset you and plus, Warren would trace it back to me and I'd lose my job. How am I supposed to watch over you and 'Ro, and Rogue, and B-" he stopped, "all of you if I don't work here?"

Jean was quiet for a second.

"Please don't tell Warren," Scott suddenly said.

Logan shot a warning glance to the man but surprisingly he didn't shrink under it. "Please," he repeated.

Logan was silent. Jean led Scott away, knowing that meant he would indeed keep quiet about the situation. "Thank you," she whispered before slipping into Scott's passenger seat and driving off. So wrapped up in one another's problems, none of them noticed Emma slinking in the shadows.

**

Rogue closed her apartment door behind her and stopped. Remy had called her and told her to meet him there; the cops had released him. She scanned the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. She proceeded down the hallway and to their bedroom door. A light poured forth from their open bathroom door and she could hear an occasional tinker or cabinet shut from within. Rogue smiled despite her self.

Remy was standing before the sink, tapping the side of his black Gillette against the sink and rinsing it thoroughly before beginning a new stroke on his stubble. He caught a glimpse of Rogue at the doorway and stopped, turned, and lowered the razor again.

"Rogue," he said simply.

"They let you go?" She asked.

He nodded. "They didn't have not'ing to charge me wit', so they had to let me go. Dey're still looking, dough, for evidence to lock me up." He shrugged and turned back to the mirror. "But I'm not worried, because I didn't do it so I have not'ing to be worried for."

"Why didn't yah tell me, Remy?" She said suddenly, not wanting to dance around it any longer.

He wiped the remnants of shaving cream off his face with a white hand towel. "Why? So you could never talk to me again? I wanted to, I really did, for a very long time. But pretty soon you were all I t'ought about and I knew telling you would mean losing you."

She stepped into the bathroom. "But that's no excuse! How much longah were you going to go without telling me? My Gawd, Remy, we live together! We were almost" she stopped her self. 'We were almost about to get married, she added silently. Though the couple had never really discussed it, they both knew and were quite open to the idea of holy matrimony. The thought of being so close but really having such a large, yet invisible barrier between them made Rogue hurt, or want to hurt something else.

Remy fought to control his anger, but instead he scooped Rogue up and planted a fervent kiss on her lips, reveling in her taste of cinnamon and Mississippi stars. He combed his fingers through her long auburn hair, stopping to toy a bit with the electric streak of pure white. He loved her so much it ached, and he wouldn't let his stupid mistakes in the past take her away from him.

She broke it off. "Remy," she started, unconsciously wallowing in the sensations his body next to hers brought forth.

"Shh," he soothed, burying him self in her silky neck. "Just forgive me."

She bit her lip and tipped her head back in indulgence as he pressed her against their bathroom wall with his body, stifling a moan as his hand disappeared up her knee-length skirt. "Ah forgive you, Remy."

He brought his face away from her to look her in the eyes. He almost grew too weak to stand staring into her glittering green eyes. She cupped his face and brought him close again, their lips barely brushing each other's. She leaned forward ever so slightly, allowing her long, chestnut colored eyelashes brush against his cheekbones. "Ah forgive you," she whispered again, transforming the passionate mood into both ardent and intimate, mixing sex with love.

He quickly thanked God for sending such an understanding woman to an undeserving swamp rat like him self before hoisting Rogue up and wrapping her long legs around his waist...




Disclaimer: I don't own them. Yes I do! No, no I don't. I do! NO! I'm sorry. I really, really, really DON'T!

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And finally, I understand this chapter had a lot lacking. I will make it up in the next one. There will be more of EVERYTHING. Expansion is everything in writing and I kinda went through things quick here. Sorry, but things are hectic! In the meantime, Read and Review my latest creation: Italian Pure, available at your nearest FF.N.