Disclaimer: The disclaimer's gone missing. I'd put up posters and offer an award, but in all honesty, I don't really want it back...

A/N: I'm listening to MP3s at this very moment, meaning my ears have taken control and refuse to let my brain function properly. I can't write well when I have music playing in the background because I tend to follow the rhythms - and let's face it, that just shoots my concentration all to hell. (Not that I had much to begin with.) I guess that means aside from the insanity, there will also be gibberish. Hit the Back button now if you want to escape. ; )

* This time around I blame the delay on Chicago and its addictive soundtrack. I think that speaks for itself. ; )

* Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! : ) I'd give you all a slice of birthday cake, but I ate it all... *burp!* ... 'scuse me... ; )

~ Marie, Sakura Scout, Lucky439, Cris-X, TrinityC, LinkinPark4ever, Mystical Sand, Wildcard00, AdiKatie - *clears throat and smoothes out blazer* Roses are red... violets are blue. I suck at poetry... but thanks for the review! (... If you're gonna throw tomatoes, you might as well add some other veggies! At least then I can make a salad out of it! : )

~ Christy S, Eileen Blazer - Ooh, now the Fanfiction mafia won't be a one-person delusion... er, organization! I've got fellow founders! I wonder if we can get the people on the HIT LIST to join... ; )

~ jelispar - Chocolate cupcake! Gimme! ; ) *looks dubiously from carrots to plot bunnies* I don't know about giving those to them... They're looking particularly cute and innocent right now - that's never a good sign.

~ Mag Carter - Be my guest. Feel free to punch Lauren all you want. But be careful. Fictional characters have a tendency to fight back. : )

~ Rupeshwari - "Did your present to yourself have to have such a cliffhanger?" ... um... yes? : )

~ Flitz - Wow... If you can really speak all those languages then my bilingual-ness is pretty pathetic in comparison. ; ) Thanks for the greetings!

~ Randirogue - *hands fellow author a straitjacket* Welcome to the insanity, my friend. ; )

~ ishandahalf - 1) OMG! Your story about the "lake" on your way back from Europe had me in stitches! I couldn't stop laughing! ; ) 2) Argh! I made another angel analogy! I have got to stop doing that! What's the count up to now, 3 descriptions in 2 stories? Any more and it'll become a trademark or something. 3) Shhh! Are you trying to give away the entire story before I get a chance to write it?! Quit predicting stuff and bite your tongue! ; )

~ T. - Okay, okay, okay! Calm down! No need to jam your Caps Lock key! : ) ... Thanks, btw, for both your reviews!

~ Samman - Nice to hear from you again! Thanks for the suggestions and welcome back to the craziness! : )

~ bunny angel - You're right on both accounts. : ) You have to remember that I don't announce the flashbacks. So in order to tell if it is one or not, you have to pull it out of the context of each scene. The beginning of Chapter 6, with Remy in the jail cell, was the "present day." The football game and Marie's conversation with Lauren happened in the past. I mentioned that that particular scene was a couple of weeks after Remy kissed Marie at the cove. I apologize for the confusion. : )

~ Disturbed Courtney - Wait a minute... Does that mean you're not joining the mafia?! But we have... And then there's... (Note to self: Figure out exactly what mafia has to offer people so they have incentive to join... ; )

~ Ryoko Subaru - Since you changed your penname can I now call you 'The Writer Formerly Known as Sujakata'? : )

~ Bronny - See, if I told you what was going to happen next... well then, you'd lose the motivation to come back and read. And I can't let that happen, now can I? : ) If you do decide to read through all the reviews, make sure you have a good suit of armor on. That's what my muse always does and he barely gets out alive. ; )

~ Alwaysright - Would you prefer to be hit with a baseball bat or a sledgehammer? ; )

~ Wishful Thinking, Girlonthem00n - Yes, I know! I'm trying to cut down on my cliffhangers! Honest, I am! But going cold turkey is hard! Maybe there's a 12-step cliffhanger program I can join... ; )

~ Panther Nesmith - No! Don't go sane again! There aren't enough of us crazy people around! (Well actually, there are, but just for the sake of argument... : )

~ Marvel - Dammit! Where did that stupid loophole come from?! Uhh... You must be mistaken. I would never say that I had the plot all figured out. Nuh-uh, not me... Nope. *twiddles thumbs together while making a pathetic attempt at whistling innocently*

~ Ysleta Smogi - Thank you, thank you, thank you! : ) Yeah, it is a great song, isn't it? A really haunting melody.

~ katt - I'm sorry, what? You kind of lost me there after the first exclamation point. ; ) Tsk, tsk, tsk. Playing hooky from cramming... What happened to the whole need-education-to-get-job, need-job-to-get-computer, need-computer-to-get-Internet, need-Internet-to-live argument? ; )

CHAPTER 7
A Thousand Fingers

Lavender.

There was a hint of it in the air, filling his lungs like a familiar perfume. It should have been relaxing. It should have been soothing.

It was neither.

Remy found it hard to be anything while standing two feet from his mother's grave.

Susanne LeBeau, loving mother and friend, dead at age thirty-six.

The service had already ended. How long ago, he couldn't say. An hour perhaps, maybe two. A week could have gone by and he wouldn't have noticed. Time had finally stopped. And the pain that accompanied it was nothing short of excruciating. If he had tried, he still wouldn't have been able to wrap his brain around it, still wouldn't have been able to understand. She was too young to die, too young to have a heart attack.

And now he was alone. No father... no mother... no family. How easy it would have been to follow his mother into the grave. How clear and simple. Just a bullet's whisper away. No complications. No fuss. How easy.

Quiet sobbing broke the blackened silence around him.

Marie was crying freely at his side, shedding the tears that he could not. Her soft features were stained with sadness and grief, while one of her hands was securely guarded by his own, his fingers snaking through hers. The warmth from her skin was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing keeping him sane.

The lavender had been her idea, scattering the small mauve flowers about the area for the interment. She knew it had been his mother's favorite scent, and as crazy as it may have sounded, Marie wanted to make sure that Susanne could enjoy the fragrance one last time.

Gradually Marie's weeping turned into heart-wrenching wails, and she crumpled to the earth. Susanne had been like a second mother to her, and the pain of losing yet another mother was simply too much.

Remy followed her movements and settled on the ground beside her. Wrapping his arms around her form, he pulled her toward him and gently tucked her head under his chin. He could feel the sorrow wracking her body and heard it echo in his own. Together they sat there, clinging to one another, mourning the loss of the woman they both loved.

- oOo -

Maman...

The pain had dulled as the months passed, but Remy didn't think the void in his soul would ever be filled. It had been a little over a year since his mother's death. Despite all the wonderful memories he had, it was still difficult for him to think of her at times. One of the things that hurt more than anything was the fact that Susanne had died a few months before Remy had graduated from high school. It was one of the times that he had felt her absence the most. Such an important milestone in his young life, and his mother wasn't there to share it with him. Margaret, Reverend Johnson, and Marie had all attended the ceremony. And while Remy appreciated their support immensely, walking across the stage without a mother beaming with pride simply didn't seem the same.

During the months following his mother's passing, it helped to know that Marie was there for him, and that she knew what it was like to lose a mother. Their shared pain drew them closer than ever, and they had spent countless afternoons grieving at the river's edge.

Marie and Susanne had been Remy's anchors, his only reasons for staying in Hazard. When his mother died, he had almost been ready to pack up and leave the small town. Almost. Marie had stopped him. Without uttering a word, without even knowing about his internal conflict to stay or to go, she had the power to stop him. He didn't have the strength to leave her. Truth be told, he didn't want the strength to leave her.

So, he stayed. For Marie. If he had been completely honest with himself, he would have realized that he was waiting for Marie. Waiting for her to finish school, so that he could make good on his promise to travel with her to New York City, and watch her fulfill her dreams.

And what did that get him? A year later, he was now sitting in a jail cell, panicking more at the thought that he had no idea where she was, rather than at the fact that he'd been arrested because of her disappearance.

"Remy."

He glanced up, entirely surprised to see Reverend Johnson standing on the other side of his cell. "M'sieu..." He immediately stood. "Did dey find her?" It was a meaningless question, really. Remy could tell from the way the older man's shoulders were heavy with sadness that they hadn't, but he still felt the need to ask.

"No," the reverend answered simply. He took a step closer and wrapped his fingers around the bars of the cell.

A heavy silence fell between them. Remy wasn't sure what to say. Though he'd only been in police custody for an hour or so, there was no doubt the news of his arrest had traveled through town with lightning speed, reaching every ear within a two-mile radius. Reverend Johnson would have heard the rumors, the ones the townsfolk would pull out of thin air, and there was a chance he would believe them. Remy didn't think he would – the reverend and Marie never put much stock into the incessant rumors that flew around town – but there was still a chance. After all, it was the reverend's daughter that was missing.

"M'sieu, you have t' know dat I didn' – "

"I know, son," the reverend quickly interrupted, meeting Remy's eyes squarely. "I know." He reached into the cell and offered his hand. Without hesitation, Remy took it. "How are you doing?"

"Je ne sais pas [I don't know]." He sighed in frustration. "Jus' sittin' here, doin' not'in', is drivin' me crazy. I need t' go out dere an' look f'r her. I need t' find her."

The reverend nodded. He knew exactly how Remy felt because he was feeling it, too. And even though he had the physical freedom to search for his daughter – unlike Remy, who was being detained – it wouldn't have done any good. Both men, as well as the sheriff and his deputy, had scoured every inch of the town. It was unlikely that any new evidence would have been found.

Remy glanced over the older man's shoulder to see Deputy Stephens lounging at his desk with the local newspaper. "Surprised dey let you in t' see me. T'ought f'r sure dey'd try t' throw de key away."

Instead of replying to his comment, the reverend pulled a chair closer to the jail cell and sat down. "Have you talked ta th' sheriff yet?" he asked.

"Non. M'sieu Stephens tells me dat de sheriff is off talkin' t' some o' de good townsfolk. He'll be back in a li'l bit t' deal wit' me."

"What have they told you so far?"

"Dat I've been arrested f'r suspicion o' wrongdoin'. Other dan dat, not'in'." He shrugged. "Jus' gon' have t' wait f'r de sheriff t' come an' beat a confession out o' me, while de deputy stands 'round pretendin' he doesn't know what's goin' on." He was joking of course, trying to add some levity to the mood – however inappropriate it was.

Inwardly, David Johnson sighed. He knew Remy well enough to recognize one of the younger man's favorite defense mechanisms: using humor to cover up the emotional storm raging within. The reverend knew better than to encourage him further by offering a direct response. Instead, he stated, "It'll be all right, son. Ah'll talk ta th' sheriff, and get you out of here."

"No offense, Reverend," Remy moved to settle himself back on the cot, "but I t'ink dis situation's a bit more complicated dan gettin' me out o' dose li'l scrapes like you used to. Doubt even you c'n rescue me from dis one."

The reverend wasn't swayed by the obvious display of pessimism. "Have faith, Remy."

The earnest quality of his tone was admirable, to say the least, but the young Cajun wasn't quite sure he could heed the advice. Faith had never really been his strong suit. It was more so Marie's. She was the one who helped him believe in the unbelievable. He didn't want to think about who would help him with his cynicism if she never came back.

"Don' t'ink I have any more o' dat faith stuff, m'sieu," he whispered, resting his forearms on his knees and lowering his gaze to the floor. "T'ink I lost dat recently."

"Son, look at me. Look at me," the reverend ordered when his command went unheeded. Remy lifted his head and turned in the older man's direction. "We'll find her. We will... Ah promise..."

- oOo -

"... Ah promise! Please!"

"It ain't happenin', chère."

"Mah treat. Anythin' you want. You can order th' entire menu fo' all Ah care!"

"When we started dis, you told me not t' give in t' any o' ya pleadin' or beggin'."

"Yeah, Ah know, but Ah didn' think you'd actu'lly listen ta me!"

They were settled atop the fallen tree at their cove. Remy was turned toward the setting sun, a thick textbook open in his lap. Marie was less than a foot behind him, facing his back and pouting.

"Okay, what if Ah promised ta finish th' Harley?" she continued. "Hmm? Then can we take a break?"

He snorted. "Nice try, chère, but de Harley is finished. All I got t' do is polish her down. Face it, ya got not'in'."

She scowled at his response. "What if Ah cleaned yoah entire house? Top ta bottom."

"No deal." He felt a slight vibration run through the trunk of the tree, and without even looking over his shoulder, knew that Marie had literally laid down in defeat.

"Yoah evil, sugah. Pure, unadulterated evil!" she hissed theatrically. "Mah brain's tired. It can't take much more o' this torture. Ah need a break."

He reached behind him and patted her knee in encouragement. "C'mon, chère, it's not dat bad."

"Easy fo' you ta say! You graduated last year. You don' have ta study fo' any more tests!"

"Whatever happened t' 'Don' you think finishin' high school's important?'" he asked, mimicking her Mississippi accent.

"Well, that's all fine an' dandy when Ah'm not sufferin' from information overload!" she whined. "Ah'm hungry! How are mah brain cells s'pposed ta work when they're starvin'?"

Remy looked down at the book he was using to quiz Marie, and smirked. She had been complaining about the current situation for the past half hour. And while most people would have found her behavior annoying, he was finding it highly amusing.

"This is all Lauren's fault, you know," she declared with another pout. "Ah make one li'l comment 'bout psychology at a football game, an' she decides ta take me seriously an' make a career out o' it!"

"You could've chosen another elective, right?"

"No, Ah couldn't have! She dragged me inta it! Ah had no choice!"

Remy chuckled.

Marie shot up like a rocket. "Are you laughin' at me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yup." He could feel her quick retort bubbling to the surface. But before she could say anything else, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Tell ya what, petite. We finish dis last chapter, an' den we go over an' see what Maggie's got on special. 'Kay?" Even from the corner of his eye, he could see her entire face light up.

"Promise?"

"T'ieves' honor."

She suddenly threw her body against his and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Oh, thank you, Remy. Ah love you."

Mentally, he stiffened at her words, but fought hard to keep his body calm. Even though her comment was offhanded and casually thrown, his mind took in its meaning for all it was worth.

Shrugging his shoulders to playfully dislodge her embrace, he ordered, "Back t' work, belle." He glanced down at the book again, and read out loud, "'Learnin' occurs when a new stimulus begins t' elicit behavior similar t' dat originally produced by an old stimulus.'"

It only took a moment for Marie to recall the answer. She leaned forward and rested her right index finger on the back of Remy's shirt. In a light, circular motion, she brought the digit around counterclockwise, stopping several inches away from her starting point. She then lifted her forefinger and brought it to the top of his back, pulling it straight down and completing the second letter. She continued on until she had finished all twenty-one letters of her answer.

"Well?" she inquired. "Did Ah get it right?"

"Oui. Classical conditionin'. One point f'r you, chère."

She grinned. "Yey, me..." Peering over his shoulder, she declared, "Y'know, this would go a lot faster if Ah didn' have ta spell out ev'ry single answer."

"True," he replied. "But at least dis way you c'n mem'rize all dese names. You know how teachers are – one letter out o' place an' ya whole answer's wrong. Case in point," he pulled the book away from her line of sight and glanced back in her direction, "who was de one behind dat type o' learnin'?"

Marie returned to her earlier position and began 'writing' her answer on Remy's back. "P-A-V-L-O-V." She finished with a flourish. "Ivan Petrovich Pavlov. Born in 1849, died in 1936. Won th' 1904 Nobel Prize fo' medicine fo' his research in digestion. Liked dogs."

"Chère..."

"Okay, fine. Not so much liked dogs, as worked with them." She sighed. "This is stupid. Why does th' test even have fill-in-th'-blank items in th' first place? Why couldn't Mr. Collins make it all essays questions? That would've made more sense, seein' as how psychology deals with a whole bunch o' theories. All this identification junk is gonna fly right out o' mah head two days after th' test, anyway."

Remy, for his part, seemed to be paying her no mind, as he thumbed through the textbook for more things to quiz her on. "You finished wit' de latest installment o' de why-teachers-are-cruel-an'-unusual-creatures debate?"

"Almost," she threw back, gaining momentum. "Ah mean, in th' great scheme o' things, how important is it ta know when th' man died? It's not like Ah'm gonna pay mah respects ev'ry year on his death date." Her body went limp as her impassioned argument faded away. "'Kay, Ah'm done now."

"Finally," he joked. "Bien... Who developed de therapy wit' de goal o' helpin' clients reach self-actualization?" Several long moments of silence followed his question. "Quit lookin' over m' shoulder f'r de answer, Marie!" he chided knowingly.

"How did you...?" Pulling away from his frame, she could only gape at him in disbelief. "Hmph... killjoy. Well, Ah know he's one o' th' Carl's... Can Ah guess?"

"Is dat what ya gon' do on de exam?"

"That was th' plan." She grinned. "Unless you want ta sit outside, underneath th' windowsill, an' feed me th' answers."

"Only if you pay me."

She rested her forehead against his upper back and tried to concentrate. Suddenly, her face lit up. "Rogers!" She smiled in triumph. "It was Carl Rogers. Ha!"

"Okay, den who was – "

"No!" Again wrapping her arms around his waist, she pleaded, "Sugah, let's stop already... please?"

Remy frowned, though Marie couldn't see it from her position. Truthfully, he didn't want to stop. He was savoring the feeling of having her arms around him, as well as the sensation of her fingertips running along his back as she spelled out each answer. Her feather-light touch was slowly driving him to the brink of insanity, and he would have willingly crossed over, if it meant that he could gather her in his arms and repeat the kiss they had shared more than a year ago.

After that kiss, Remy had planned to talk to Marie about the strange feelings he'd been experiencing. He didn't really understand the unfamiliar ache that seeped into his body whenever she was around. It took him the better part of a month to realize that he was in love with her, completely and without question. Love was the only explanation for the gnawing bite of jealousy he felt whenever she was affectionate with a male classmate. It was the only reason for her constant presence in his thoughts. It was the only justification for the unconditional concern he had for her. And it was the only basis for the burning itch in his skin that could only be sated by her touch. He had every intention of telling her in the days that had followed the kiss, but she had been distant... almost as if she had been avoiding him. And he had lost his nerve.

And then his mother had died, and any romantic feelings for Marie had been pushed to the back of his mind. It had been more important for the both of them to mourn Susanne's passing, and in order to do so, they needed to lean on each other simply as friends.

But in the last few months, he could sense those old feelings worming their way back into the forefront of his brain, reminding him of the risk he had been willing to take so many months before. Now the question was, was he still willing to take that same risk one more time?

"You jus' wanna stop so you c'n watch de sunset," Remy teased, shutting the heavy textbook and tossing it next to her backpack on the grass.

"Well, yeah, but can you really blame me? Look how pretty that is." She gestured toward the violet and orange symphony painted across the sky. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she looked at him questioningly. "Switch seats?"

"Sure." He waited for her to climb off the trunk, so that he could slide back and settle into the spot she had just vacated. Taking her hand, he helped her up again, silently pleased when she leaned back against his chest. Almost of their own volition, his arms curled protectively around her upper body. "Comfortable?" he murmured into her hair. He took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of sweet grass and vanilla.

"Hmm..." she purred, contented. "This is nice."

They sat quietly for several moments, simply listening to the sounds of nature, lulling them into a peaceful frame of mind. Finally, as the last of the sun's fingers slipped beneath the horizon, Marie broke the spell.

"Ah was in th' market th' other day, an' Ah heard Mrs. Patterson talkin'. She was tryin' ta convince Mrs. Watkins that you should've been sent ta Social Services after yoah momma died, 'cause you weren't quite eighteen yet. She said you paid somebody ta forge yoah birth certificate or somethin', so it'd look like you were old enough ta live on yoah own."

Although Remy heard her, he gave no outward sign that he had. Mrs. Patterson, along with a few others, was constantly looking for ammunition against him. It was nothing new. As long as they didn't hurt anyone close to him, he couldn't care less what they said.

"You shouldn't let it bother you, chèrie. Dey're jus' talkin' trash."

"Ah know. It's jus' irritatin', is all. Like yoah th' only person in th' world ta turn eighteen before you graduated high school." She used her hands to steady herself on Remy's thighs, as she stretched her legs out in front of her. "A couple o' days after th' funeral, Lauren told me Mrs. Patterson thought you were responsible fo' yoah momma's..." Her voice trailed off, realizing the slip a little too late.

They thought he was responsible for his mother's passing - or more precisely, they wanted to make him responsible for her passing. Never mind the fact that Doctor Russell had declared cardiac arrest as Susanne's cause of death. Never mind the fact that Remy had been working in the garage when his mother had collapsed in the market.

"Remy, Ah'm sorry," Marie whispered. "Ah didn' mean ta bring that up."

He merely nodded against her hair, certain that she could feel the motion, if not see it. Deciding to change the direction of their conversation, he said, "So, ya still close t' Lauren?"

"Yeah… which is surprisin'."

Raising an eyebrow, he asked curiously, "Pourquoi? [Why?]"

"Well, she said some things a while ago that were really narrow-minded, an' Ah didn' like it." She shrugged. "But it's not like Ah can change her mind or anythin'. She's pretty dead set in her opinion."

"About what?"

Marie waved her hand dismissively. "Jus' some stuff."

He could sense her reluctance to discuss the topic, and it intrigued him. "Dere's somet'in' ya don' want t' tell me."

She shook her head, which in turn caused her hair to swish against his chest. "No, there's not."

"Yes, dere is."

"Not."

"Is."

"Not."

"Is."

"No– "

"Catherine Marie Johnson – "

"Hey, no fair full-namin' me!"

"You gave me no choice, chère." He slid his hands to her waist. "Either talk, or I'll..."

"You'll what?" she demanded confidently, a smug grin on her features. "There's nothin' you can do that would make me – "

Without letting her finish, he scooped her up and raced over to the river's edge, dangling her precariously over the water.

"Remy, no!" she squealed, hooking her arms around his neck in a futile effort to save herself.

"Not'in' I c'n do, eh? Dis looks like a pretty big not'in' t' me." He dipped his bare toes into the stream. "Pretty cold too, an' gettin' colder by de minute."

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed.

He smirked cheekily at her. "You so sure 'bout dat, petite?"

Without another word, he threw her into the river, making sure his arm was close enough to grasp, so that she could 'drag' him in with her. Marie broke the water's surface with a loud splash, Remy following a few seconds after.

"Ah can't believe you did that!" she accused, blinking rapidly to squeeze the water from her eyes.

Remy submerged himself once more, before resurfacing and smoothing both hands over his wet hair. "Should know better dan t' challenge me, chèrie. T'ieves never back down from a challenge."

"Swamp rat, you are toast!" she yelled, cupping her hands and splashing him with the cold river water. "Do you hear me?! Toast!" She screeched when Remy got even with his own wave of retaliation. But in the back of her mind, she was thankful for the distraction. She didn't want to recount for him the old conversation she'd had with Lauren.

- oOo -

"Give me yoah hands, Remy," Reverend Johnson requested, reaching inside the cell.

The younger man gave him a look full of speculation, but complied without question. "Why?"

"We're going ta pray."

"I'm Catholic, m'sieu."

"That doesn't matter. We're both Christian." He smiled kindly. "We believe in th' same God. We just choose ta worship differently." He bowed his head and patiently waited for Remy to do the same, before reciting the Lord's Prayer. When he finished, he continued on with a string of prayers he had committed to memory.

Twenty minutes later, the door of the police station swung open, and both men lifted their heads. Sheriff Miller, taking notice of the reverend's presence, tipped his hat in polite greeting.

"Evenin', Reverend."

"Sheriff." He rose to his feet, releasing Remy's hands. "Ah was wondering if Ah could have a word with you."

The sheriff's eyes shifted from Remy to the older man across from him. "'Course. Let's go into my office."

- oOo -

Marie adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag as she hiked through the field. The sun was hot, but she barely took notice. She was too elated to care. Even the heavy load of her textbooks weren't weighing her down. Life was good from all angles, and the trivial things were just that – trivial. If she'd been any more euphoric, she would've been skipping through the grass with a sunflower tucked behind her ear, and an idiotic grin plastered on her face.

"Remy!" she called, as soon as she spotted his figure lounging on a blanket in the cove. "Guess what!"

"We play dat game a li'l too often, chère," he teased, eyes shut and hands laced behind his head. "Why don' you jus' come right out an' say it?"

"'Cause then Ah can't be all dramatic an' suspenseful-like." When he remained silent, she persisted, "Are you gonna guess or not?"

"Umm... non?"

She saw the pull of a grin peek at the corner of his lips, and immediately knew he was in a playful mood. She gracefully stretched out beside him, stopping only when she was a hair's breadth away. "Guess who got th' highest mark on that psychology test you helped me study for."

His brow furrowed in concentration. "Dat really smart homme wit' de wire-rim glasses?"

"Ah'll let that comment slide, 'cause Ah know yoah jus' an ignorant swamp rat." When he still didn't give her an answer, she cried out in exasperation, "Sugah, you could at least play along! Ah didn' skip dinner an' then come all th' way from th' library jus' so you could ignore me in mah hour o' glory!"

He grinned and finally opened his eyes. "So, ev'ryone was burnin' wit' jealousy, eh?"

"Absolutely scorchin'!" She returned his smile. "Ah told 'em they should all think 'bout hirin' you fo' a tutor."

He snorted. "Dat'll be de day."

"And..." she reached into her bag, pulling her test paper out, "... Mr. Collins thought mah answers on th' essay questions were both 'profound' an' 'insightful.'"

"How much money did you pay him?"

Swatting him on the stomach, she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "He asked me if Ah ever thought 'bout becomin' a psychologist. Said Ah had potential."

"So, ya givin' up de glitz an' glamour o' showbiz f'r de muck an' mire o' other people's problems? Talk 'bout a career change, belle."

"Ah didn' say Ah was actu'lly goin' to..."

"But you were t'inkin' 'bout it – even jus' f'r a second."

"Well, jus' fo' a second." She scooted closer to him, resting her chin and hands on his chest. "But th' call o' showbiz is strong. It cannot be denied," she declared dramatically. On impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Her movement was so sudden and unexpected, that all Remy could do was stare. The shock that ran through him was sharp and instantaneous, heating up his entire body in two seconds flat. And from the surprised expression on Marie's face, he was willingly to bet that she had felt the exact same thing.

"Ah... Ah'm sorry," she stammered. "Ah jus'... Ah mean... thank you. That… that was a thank you. Fo' helpin' me with th' test..."

Part of his mind was sternly telling him to leave it at that, to come up with some witty repartee to cover the awkward moment that had befallen them. But another part – the louder part – told him to reach for her... and to never let go. He opted to listen to the part screaming in his ear.

His hand weaved its way through her hair and settled at the base of her skull. With gentle pressure, he pulled her down toward him, keeping his eyes locked with hers; ready to let her go if she chose to pull away. He lightly brushed his lips against hers, still giving her the opportunity to withdraw. Her soft moan told him that she had no intention of doing so. He continued, delicately running his tongue over her lips, asking for her permission to enter. He felt them part and he forged on, wrapping his arms around her waist and fully pulling her on top of him.

Marie's hands also buried themselves in his hair, mussing the russet locks again and again. Her tongue ran over the length of his teeth, before uniting with its counterpart. She couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to be pressed up against Remy's body, how natural and right. And yet at the same time, so very... sinful.

With a whimpering moan, she broke the kiss and slowly opened her eyes. Remy did the same, and she could see the familiar red energy crackling around his irises – the same sight that had greeted her the last time they'd kissed, more than a year ago.

He raised a hand to her cheek, lovingly caressing her skin. "You still taste... incredible," he murmured in awe. Strands of hair were falling around her eyes. With infinite concern, he gently tucked them behind her ears, before cupping her face in both hands. "... so beautiful..." He moved to kiss her again, but she abruptly leaned back against the arms encircling her.

"Let me go," she whispered, bracing herself against his chest.

Confusion snaked across his features. Numbly, he complied, watching her scramble away from him. She resettled herself several feet to his right, kneeling close enough to reach out and touch, but still too far – or so it felt like to him. One of her hands flew to her throat in what looked like an unconscious gesture. The movement caused his heart to drop. She was making sure her mother's necklace was still in place.

"What're you doin', Remy?"

Her voice was so soft, he could barely hear it over the surrounding sounds of nature. Instead of giving her an answer, he propped himself up on an elbow, and silently watched her as she watched him.

"What're you doin'?!" she demanded for the second time, her eyes hardening. "What in th' hell do you think yoah doin'?"

She was clearly upset. The only time Remy had ever heard Marie swear was when they had been flambéing dinner, and had almost burned her house down. "I was kissin' you."

"Yeah, Ah got that part. Th' question is why."

"T'ought dat would've been pretty obvious."

Her brow furrowed in anger. "Stop playin' games, Remy. It ain't funny. Ah don' like bein' used."

"Who said anyt'in' 'bout usin' you, chère? Didn' seem t' me like you were objectin' all dat much."

"Jus' stop," she ordered again, standing suddenly and gathering her bag to leave. " Whatever yoah doin', jus' stop."

He took off after her, grabbing her arm. "What is dis, Marie? What's goin' on?" He was stunned to find unshed tears glistening in her eyes when she turned back to face him.

"Why don' you tell me what's goin' on, Remy?" she bit out, twisting away from him. She pelted him with a venomous glare. "Why do you keep kissin' me? Is it 'cause Ah'm convenient? Or maybe 'cause it's been more than a year since you last had a girlfriend?"

He could only gape at her. "Got no idea where dis is comin' from, chèrie, but – "

"This is comin' from me, Remy," she declared, pointing to herself. She began to shake her head. "You can't keep doin' this. You can't keep playin' with mah emotions, makin' me feel like this, an' then have ev'rythin' go back ta th' way it was..."

His head shot up at the word 'feel.' Is she...?

"... It jus' doesn't work that wa– "

She was cut off by another one of his kisses, effectively interrupting her tirade. She tried to remain impassive, to ignore the delicious burning that she felt all the way down to her toes, but it was pointless. Her hands sought his body out, her lips responding to his touch.

Finally backing away breathless, Remy whispered, "T'ink you know de reason why I kissed you." He followed the outline of her lips with his forefinger. "T'ink you know 'cause you feel it, too. You feel dat pull between us..." Leaning into her, he brushed his mouth against her ear, savoring the unbidden shiver that ran through her. "... jus' like a magnet, drawin' me close t' you..."

Marie gasped when she felt his tongue creep out and lightly touch the tip of her earlobe. Her knees buckled and she needed to tighten her grip on Remy's arms to steady herself. The sensation was scaring her.

"Ya temptation personified... Ev'ryt'in' I want... Not'in' I c'n have..."

She kept her eyes lowered, not daring to meet his gaze. Too afraid of what she might see. "Ah... Ah don' understand..."

Smiling sadly, he murmured, "You don' have t' understand, petite. Even I don' understand. One day you were my best friend. De next, you were someone else's t' hold..."

Her gaze snapped to his. "Is that all this is? Someone else wanted me, so you suddenly decided ta take an interest?"

"Non, mon chèrie... Dis ain't a fleetin' t'ing." He smirked. "Else it wouldn't have lasted a whole year an' a half – give or take a few agonizin' months. Why do you t'ink I haven't had a girlfriend in so long?"

She looked at him questioningly. "What're you sayin', Remy? That you... that we..."

He grinned at her loss of words. "Oui. I'm sayin' I wan' be wit' you." He smoothed her hair back. "But only if you want to, mignonne. I won't force you t' do anyt'in' you don' want t' do."

She frowned. Her ability to comprehend suddenly seemed tainted. She was having difficulty concentrating and pulling all the new information into the decision-making section of her brain.

Abruptly, she looked up at him. With a shy smile, she stated, "You've never called me that before." At his blank stare, she clarified, "Mignonne. It's th' first time Ah've heard you use it."

"It's not de first time I've wanted to," he confessed, studying her. He didn't like the pensive expression that was gradually spreading across her face.

"Remy... Ah don' want ta jump inta anythin' jus' yet. Ah mean, whatever this is Ah'm feelin', it's scarin' me. What if we're makin' a mistake? What if this isn't right fo' us? What if we lose our friendship 'cause we thought we had somethin' when we really didn't?" The words were falling out of her mouth in a rush of syllables.

"Shh, petite," he consoled, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I understand. I'm not makin' you decide right dis minute. If you need time t' t'ink 'bout t'ings, den you go right ahead. I told you, I'm not gonna rush you inta anyt'in'."

"Yoah... yoah not mad?" she questioned tentatively.

"Non." Wryly, he grinned. "T'ough I've got a feelin' dat even if I was mad, you wouldn't care all dat much. You'd still do whatever you wanted." He took a step back, releasing his hold on her, and shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's gettin' dark. We should head over t' de garage. Still got Mr. Robinson's transmission t' fix."

Marie shook her head. "Ah think Ah'll stay here. You go on ahead."

He looked at her doubtfully. "You sure? Ya gon' be okay by yaself?"

"This is Hazard, Remy, not New York City." She moved away from the cove's entrance, so that he could pass. "This town's so safe, they even let thieves live here."

She gave him a tight smile. It wasn't exactly the kind of cheerfulness he was used to seeing from Marie, but at least she was 'normal' enough to make attempts at bad jokes.

"Don' really like de t'ought o' you goin' home by yaself... It's a pretty long walk..."

"Ah'm not an invalid, sugah. Ah can take care o' mahself." She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go on with ya. Ah'm gonna sit here an' think a bit."

Reluctantly, Remy climbed over the fallen tree. When he turned back to look at her, he found her emerald eyes watching him intently. "See you t'morrow, chère?" he asked.

She nodded. "T'morrow."

With that, Remy made his way downriver to the path that would lead him back to town.

- oOo -

No one could accuse James Miller of being a soft touch. He had been raised by a stern military man, with a heavy hand for discipline. And while he'd taken after his father in some respects, James learned through his own experience that being overbearing and domineering were not always the most effective approach. Through the years of raising his own children – and grandchildren, though he would like to think he wasn't that old – he'd found a practical blend between the two, which allowed him to play both the disciplinarian and the 'cool' father figure. But when it came to his job as the sheriff of Hazard, he more often than not found himself straying back to his roots.

"Now, what can I do for you, Reverend?" he asked.

The man on the opposite side of his desk sat straight and tall, surprisingly comfortable for a parent whose daughter was missing. "Ah want you ta release Remy."

The sheriff shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Reverend. Not even for you."

"James, he's done nothing wrong. You can't hold him here."

"I've got the authority to detain him for forty-eight hours."

"On what grounds?"

"Suspicion of wrongdoin'."

The reverend leaned forward in his seat. "You and Ah both know that's a ridiculous charge."

"Are you sure about that?" The sheriff leaned back and steepled his fingers together, studying the other man.

"What are getting at?" Reverend Johnson narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying ta say?"

"How well do you know Remy?"

"He's Marie's best friend. Ah know him almost as well as she does."

"Do you know where he was last night?"

The reverend hesitated. "Well, no. But that doesn't change th' fact that – "

"He mentioned somethin' about workin' yesterday evenin'." The sheriff rustled through the pages of a small notebook, and then lifted his gaze. "But no one can verify if he was actually at the garage or not. Even Jim Travis doesn't recall Remy mentionin' any overtime he was plannin' on puttin' in." He made sure he had the reverend's full attention before continuing. "But we do have an eyewitness placin' him near the river late last night, only a few yards from where we found Marie's necklace."

The reverend gaped in disbelief. "That's... that's impossible. There must be some kind of mistake."

"I'm afraid not. Don Robinson gave us a one-hundred-percent, positive ID. It was Remy."

That's not possible, the reverend repeated silently. Remy would never do anything ta hurt Marie.

"I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, Reverend," the sheriff was saying. "I know how disturbin' it is to find out someone isn't who you thought they were. In fact, my youngest boy, Larry..." He trailed off when he noticed the other man's lack of attention. Realizing they had both lost focus, he cleared his throat to get them back to the matter at hand. "Like I said, right now, we can only keep him here for forty-eight hours. But as soon as we get him to tell us what he's done with your daughter, we can lock him up for good."

Reverend Johnson didn't respond. He could only stare ahead vacantly, contemplating the possibility that the sheriff might be right. Maybe he was simply too trusting, too quick to believe in a person's innate goodness. He'd been wrong about others before. He could very well be wrong about Remy now. With his daughter's welfare at risk, the reverend wasn't sure he was willing to make that mistake again.


* Okay, so by my standards, that was not a cliffhanger. (Whoo-hoo! First time in a long time I didn't end with one of those! ; ) For those of you who see it as such... well, let's just agree to disagree, shall we? : )

* Did you guys notice the subtle hints in the last flashback with Marie, pertaining to when that scene occured? Please tell me you did 'cause if you didn't I might as well pack up my computer now and quit...

* I have the distinct feeling that I screwed something up with the whole Remy-arrest situation, like I completely mangled the criminal justice system. Honestly, I did research the topic but I didn't find exactly what I wanted. So if anyone notices big, gaping plot holes, please let me know. : )