Okay, PG-13 for a REASON. Remy's turning out the way he is and I won't change him for anything. I'm serious here. If you have problems with a talk on infanticide, check out please.

I've gotten some reviews that this fic is hard to follow, but people seem to love it anyway. It's not a very logical story because Remy has a wild character with severe mood swings and his actions and words (and in effect, my writing) reflects that. I'm toning down the accents and checking that people know who is talking. Bon appetite! ***

Thief of Spirits by Eternity's Voice

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Chapter Two: Marriage an' All Dat

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Rogue woke up in an otherwise empty bed. Remy had tucked her underneath the covers.

He had also duct taped the sheet around her body.

Her tears came again and the remaining pillow grew damp. She was glad she could cry alone. After forever, the sun came up, but was mostly kept out by the heavy window curtains. She heard the door open and close.

"Chere?" She mimicked sleep and ignored him.

"Don' lie to Gambit, ma Petite. He can see de wet. Remy's fille may be a lot of things in bed, but she ain't a bed wetter. Why you cry, Belle? 'Taint so bad, Remy be wit' you after all. Most filles, dey give their spleen for dat. Ma Petite gets Remy free."

"Leave me alone, Swamp Rat."

He slipped into the bed and stroked her hair with his damned leather gloves. "Remy wouldn't call his Homme dat if'n he were you, ma Petite." He paused, then added, "If'n he was a fille, dat is."

She laughed, but it came out more like a sob. The girl jerked her head towards the rings of duct tape. "My "Man"...so what're these, marriage ties?" His eyes were only inches from hers. Rogue considered head butting him. He would wake up all too soon and she'd still be unable to move an inch, but he would have a splitting headache.

"Marriage ties?" The Cajun grinned, and then grew solemn. "No, no, ma Petite. Dat would be dis."

He pulled a short chain from one of his many pockets. Rogue couldn't help but gasp. The silver and diamonds glinted even in the dim light. A tiny keyhole lock was bound to the delicate metal links. From the lock there hung two diamond wedding rings: one small and one large. Then, suddenly as it had appeared, it was snugly closed around her neck.

"Perfect fit, ma Petite. Just one more way you like Grandmama Lilly. Dis fit her too, her 'ole life. Grandmama, she die wit' it on. So will you, Chere."

He laughed at her shudder. "T'ink of it as a promise, as security. Marriage goes both ways an' Remy has to upkeep his side."

"You're not collared, LeBeau and this ain' marriage!"

"No, Remy ain't. De LeBeau men ain' collared. Dey promise in de blood; it's bound in de blood."

The thief pulled off his shirt and his fille's eyes went wide. On his chest, over his heart, there was a burn scar, like from a cattle prod. The shiny scar tissue made a sharp contrast to his heavily tanned flesh. It was a lock with a heart and two wedding rings "engraved" into it.

"Remy's Papa do dis to him, an' Remy'll do it to his sons. Like Gambit said, he don' got much honor, but he's deadly strict where it counts." He pointed at his scar, then the necklace. "Dat's what counts, Rogue."

He put his hand on her heart. "Dat too."

"De fille's heart matters. Not a fille, mind you, the fille. There's only one of those in de world and de LeBeau man must find her. For Remy, dat's you, ma Petite. You picked de lock on Remy's heart, stole it clean gone. Is only fair Remy steal you. So now we married accordin' to de LeBeaus. Now we here.

Her emerald eyes flashed with some anger that was too complex to describe. "How did we get here? Last night I remember you threatenin' ta blow me up!"

"Dat just Remy's way, Chere. Think nothin' of it afterward, but do what Remy says when he in his dark humor."

Gambit drew out a knife and cut open the sheet. He got up and leaned against the wall warily. Her arms free, Rogue reached for the chain.

"Remy wouldn' do dat if'n he was you, Chere. Fille or no."

She dug her fingers around it and tugged. There was yelp of pain and she clutched her twitching hand.

"Dat chain not harmless. People would kill for dat; filles have been killed. LeBeau men lose enough filles in de past, and dey make sure it don' happen no more. Now it spits electricity at its attackers and only opens wit' de key that fits in the lock. Don' worry, Chere, it won' shock you unless you de one that tries to take it off."

She rubbed her wounded hand and glared at him. "What's so important about this hunk of metal?"

"Security."

She growled in frustration. "You said that. Why is it so special you hafta booby trap it?"

"De fille dat wears it is safe. Dat be a desirable thing in Remy's world. No thief wit' connections in N'Awlins will hurt her. Any thief seein' her in trouble will help her. She untouchable as long as she stays in N'Awlins or wit' her Homme. Hopefully she stay wit' both, but dat too much ask of some LeBeau men's filles."

"Like me."

"On de head, ma Petite. At least you admittin' you belong to Remy now."

She sputtered. "What?"

Remy began to absently twirl his dagger. "Dere's lots of old rules but let Gamit give it to you straight. Say you run away from Remy, leave de protection of N'Awlins and go to Minnesota. One day you t'ink you safe, go shoppin' at de grocery. You reach fo' a nice shiny apple, den Bam! De boy that mop the floors pull you in de back, lock you in an orange crate wit' steel bars, and ship you back to yo' Homme in N'Awlins."

He looked at her face and answered the question written all over it. "Why? Because you belong to Remy. You may not like it, Chere, but at least you're safe."

"I was a lot safer before you came along!"

He laughed at her outburst. "Don' lie to Remy, ma Petite. Remy had some checkin' done on what happened in de cemetery of Remy's Grandmama last night. Dere were some people there dat even Remy wouldn' want to get on the wrong end of. Two assassins we thought had died long ago. Meanin' in de eighteen hundreds."

"What!"

"Don' be so surprised, ma Petite. Plenty of strange things in dis world. Most all of them pass through N'Awlins at some point. If you look hard there, you'll see things, people, people dat seem like things. You never know, ma Petite. Our children may not look like people."

Rogue laughed darkly. "I don' know if I'll have kids, Remy, but if I do, they won' be yours."

Remy was suddenly on top of her, trapping he beneath the covers.

"De children, they be dis Homme's and his fille's or they worth no more than bilge water! Dat where they end up too, the sewer."

Rogue gasped and the Creole glared. "If'n you have a baby dat ain' Remy's, he have de right. If'n Remy trespasses on his promise, you can do de same to his child. 'Tis sin, those babies. Don' be so surprised. De Puritan filles, they bashed their sinful babies dead themselves, wit' rocks. They'd bash they own stomachs an' kill de childs unborn or they papas an' Hommes would for them. Remy may sound Creole, walk an' talk it, but he know his blood Puritan. He got Cajun soul, but Pilgrim blood."

The thief realized that she was terrified and stroked her hair softly. "But Gambit ain' his ancestors. He'd nevah hurt you, ma Petite. Wouldn't even hand you de rock. But he would do de needle himself. On de baby an' de Bastard both."

"That's why I hate you, LeBeau! Every time I start to think I could like yah, you go and say somethin' 'bout infanticide."

"Remy can't change himself, ma Petite."

"Then don't try an' change me! I'm not your Petite."

"You wrong dere, Cherie. You made to be Remy's fille, just as Remy born to be yo' Homme. No one said de rules were kind. Just follow dem and you be happy."

He lifted her out of the bed. "There are some clothes for you in de bathroom. And a bath."

Rogue walked into the bathroom. She gasped and stopped short. Remy went ahead of her and placed his hand into the glowing water. "Remy just keepin' it warm for you, ma Petite." The energy sucked back into his hand, leaving only steaming water. He pointed to a watch on the counter. "We leave for N'Awlins in one hour, if you clothed or not. Knock on de door if you finish before den."

The Cajun left and she heard the door latch. Rogue sank into the bath water and held her head in her hands. Her body heated, but the metal chain stayed cold against her skin. "Married accordin' to the Lebeaus, Damn him. Damn tha LeBeaus, whoever they are."

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Well, I hope this was less confusing, but I somehow doubt that. Marriage...yeah. It's the basic theme of the fic. I've always considered Remy to be a powerful MAN and thought it weird for him to chase Rogue around forever and beg just to get her to talk to him. So I skipped a couple steps, specifically love (on Rogue's side). ***

Review Responses

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Rogue454:

You wanted a clarification on when this story happened. Remember that first Rogue episode where she got kissed by a classmate at a party down in Mississippi and absorbed his memories? She thinks she killed "Matt" and is on the run. The X-Men (and Mystique) go down to recruit her. In the story, Mystique confuses the Goth and gets her to join her team. In this one, Rogue gets shocked by Kurt, absorbs him, and teleports into that crypt. There she finds...REMY, who gets her out of there before anyone else finds her.

Surrealique:

I actually have an idea or two about sticking other Evo characters into the plot. They will probably end up as cameos, but they're good ideas with quite a bit of humor and drama.

Destiny Phoenix and cool-chick-rae:

Like I said up at the top, I'm really trying to work on it. I love Remy's accent and refuse to drop it. I hear my characters' dialogue in my head and write what I hear, but I do believe I've made it more understandable. I did go back to Ch1 and rewrite some of it. The plot hasn't changed one bit, but it should be easier for future readers.

ishandahalf, Queen of the Night, Caliente, Yumiko, and LotusPen:

As you probably figured out, I updated. Thanks for the support.