A/N: Ugh. Being sick SUCKS! I had to break my vegetarian-ness to eat an instant lunch chicken-noodle bowl thing, cause that was the only thing around here to eat for lunch and I'm way too weak to mosey on down to the cafeteria (I go to boarding school).

What I wouldn't give for an hour-long bath.

Anyway, enough of my gripes. Perhaps y'all should be happy I'm sick, cuz it gave me time to write another (hopefully) wonderful chappie! I know this took a while, but it's trés long and a lot happens.

Oh, and I'll try to have the characters explain the Guilds to satisfaction and understandibility (shut up, I'm sick I can make up words), but seeing as this is movieverse if anyone feels confused just shout out in your review and I'll explain it thoroughly next chappie. K?

Enjoy!


Chapter 5


Did you see him on the street, did you pass him at your feet
Did you think at all,
How dare he even look me in the eye?
And he loves the girls,and he loves the boys
Gonna make twenty dollars 'fore the weekend's over
So set him up then let him fall
Turn him over in your hands
God save the king of New Orleans.

-Better than Ezra



Sometimes Logan really hated his healing factor. For instance, at times like this, when all he wanted to do was get piss-drunk and spend the night vomiting and unable to walk in a straight line. Hangover and all, he didn't care; he just wanted something to take him out of what he was feeling.

He scowled into his beer. He didn't even know why she affected him so much; Jeannie was just another hot chick, after all. And he went through those by the dozen.

Maybe it was the fact that she was married to such a prick that made her so enticing. Maybe it was the fire in her eyes whenever she got angry. Dammit, maybe it had just been so long since he'd met a woman who was his equal--in smarts, in passion, in power.

But she had rejected him. Jeannie had chosen to stay with her boy scout of a husband, leaving Logan to wander alone once more. Not that she really told him to leave--in fact, she'd asked him not to--but he wasn't going to spend his time sitting around the mansion all day just watching her cuddle with One-Eye. He had better things to do.

Like what? a sneaky voice in his head asked. Travel from one skanky bar to the next, perfecting the art of binge-drinking and one-night stands? He tried to drown the voice in beer, unsuccessfully. So, okay, he wasn't exactly spending his time in any grand, adventurous, world-saving way--who the hell cared? It was how he'd lived long before he ran into those X-geeks, and just because his life didn't conveniently fit into their set of morals didn't mean he was going to change his whole life around. These bars were a helluva lot more interesting than anything back at that damn mansion.

Rogue. She was back at that damn mansion. Logan sighed, wishing he could just forget about her, although even now the though of her made the corners of his lips tug into an almost smile. He wondered how she was doing: if she was still hopelessly flustered by just one advance of Bobby's, if she still bit her lip in that cute way whenever she was embarrassed, whether she and that little firecracker friend of hers still had that crazy theory about Lucky Charms and coffee being a sixth and absolutely necessary food group.

His smile disappeared as he remembered that night, more than a year ago, when he'd met her on the train. He'd never seen anyone look as hurt, as confused, as vulnerable as she did on that leather seat. He remembered looking into her eyes and wanting to cry, there was so much pain hidden there. Then, she had let him hold her, little sobs shaking her body so subtly, as she tried desperately to pretend she wasn't crying, that she was still strong, terrified that he would leave her like all the others...

And isn't that what I ended up doin'? Logan cringed. He hadn't been able to save her then, when Magneto came and stole his Marie from him, stole the only thing that had let him feel human in years. He hadn't taken care of her', like he'd promised, and he wasn't taking care of her now.

Logan slammed a fist down on the counter, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from the bar's fellow patrons. Godammit! It just wasn't in his nature to stay in any one place for long, especially some place like the X-mansion, couldn't she see that?! She never hated you for leaving, that damn voice whispered to him. It's you that knows what you're doing is wrong.

He growled low in his throat. He didn't want to face Jean again, the guilt that would be in her eyes and the lust that he knew was still there for him; he didn't want to deal with Scott's smug looks, knowing he had and would keep the girl.

But he missed her. He missed Marie, more than he'd missed anyone in a long time. His insides felt wracked with guilt, confusion and frustration as he thought of the way he'd left her, yet again, like everyone had. What he would give to just see her smile again, just know that she was all right.

He sighed, slapping a few bills down and standing to go, not bothering to finish his beer. He knew what he had to do.

****

Looking back, Rogue didn't know why she did it. Whenever Jubilee or Kitty asked her about it later, she pleaded temporary insomnia, or perhaps the twinkie defense. She told Remy she did it to make him shut the hell up.

Whatever the reason, Rogue found her lips smashed against his, and for a second the whole world stopped. He recovered almost instantly from the shock of her throwing herself at him, and his kiss burned as hot as everything else about him. Rogue could feel her knees go weak, and she knew that nothing else existed right then, she wasn't Rogue, she wasn't untouchable or tortured or haunted, she was just here, now, touching-

It took her a second to realize what his suddenly stiff lips meant. Then the images came, one after another, memories and thoughts and power at her fingertips...

Panicking, she shoved him away with all her might, not even looking as he fell to the ground. Grabbing her head with both hands, she moaned as the influx of Remy threatened to overwhelm her. Pictures flashed by: a glowing card, flashing in the dark of some forsaken pit; a cocky rich gentleman, staring down at the teenage boy, not realizing he was being robbed of all his wealth; a beautiful girl, smiling wide and opening her legs wider...

All right, that's enough, Rogue thought at that last memory. Gritting her teeth, she clamped down on his memory and personality, shoving them sloppily to the back of her brain. She'd deal with it later.

Opening her eyes, Rogue gasped as she saw Remy sprawled on the forest floor. She crouched by his side, tentatively reaching out with a gloved hand to touch his shoulder. Are--are ya all right?

Think of the worst hangover you've ever had. Now combine that with the most crowded day at Disneyland, where none of the rides are working and hence every child within a five-mile radius is screaming. Multiply that by a thousand, and Remy Lebeau still laughs at your pain, for it doesn't even come close to the agony he felt at that moment.

Remy gasped, trying desperately to get his lungs to listen to him and inhale. They weren't complying, and his chest seemed to be on the verge of imploding--which was just slightly annoying. He looked up at Rogue, trying to get his eyes to focus on the pretty fille before him, trying to find the words to say he was all right... Mon dieu, he said instead, barely even having the strength to utter the words. He tried to stand but stumbled, and was surprised when strong arms caught him.

Don' say Ah didn' warn ya, Cajun, he heard a voice say harshly. Dear god, was that really her voice? It sounded so--masculine... You asked f'r dis.

Rogue cringed at the sound of her brand new cajun accent. Dammit! What the hell had she just done? Having his voice and his personality leaking out was the last thing she wanted...

She moved to catch him again as he stumbled forward, his face ashen. A surge of guilt washed over her, and she cursed under her breath. Sure, he'd asked for it, but he hadn't known what he was getting into, hadn't known that he would be sharing his most private memories with her, that he would be putting his life in her hands. She had hurt him, just like Cody, just like... Logan.

She felt another wave of guilt as she thought of him, of her feelings toward him, and the kiss she'd just given Remy. What would he think of her for this? It would hurt him, no doubt--And yet you don't feel guilty because of Bobby, do you? remarked a nasty little voice in her head, but Rogue shoved it to the side.

She kneeled down on the ground, putting a hand cautiously on his shoulder, steadying him. His chest was heaving, but Rogue knew that he couldn't feel oxygen in his lungs--the voices in her head had all explicitly told her just what it felt like to touch her. Dat... dat some kiss you got, chere, he said weakly, a trace of his old smile coming to his lips. But then his bravado disappeared, and he gasped again, doubling over in pain.

Remy shuddered, letting the pressure flow over him in waves. It was almost over--it had to be. Silence reigned as he panted, trying to get enough oxygen to his brain.

Finally, Remy felt somewhat normal again. Weak as a kitten, yes, but normal. He glanced up, and Rogue met his eyes for a second before turning away and angrily folding her arms over her chest, her mouth twisted into a bitter expression. What were ya sayin' swamp rat? That mah powers aint as bad as they're made out to be?

Remy grimaced--he hated having to eat his own words. I admit it, chere, dat skin o' yours packs a mean punch--it's def'nitely de most painful t'ing Remy ever felt. But I still maintain dat you takin' t'ings too seriously, ma belle--let's face it, I'm not dead, not even injured really, and you seem to be just fine- he smirked, knowing how irritating he was. So what's de big deal?

Rogue stared at him, expressionless. You don't know, she whispered, her voice barely audible. You don't know what it's like to be a prisoner, an outsider, in your own mind. She stood up abruptly, brushing grass off her pants. Goodnight, Remy.

He caught her wrist as she turned to go, but she shoved him away, harder than necessary, and Remy found himself sprawled back on the ground--he was still weak.

He sighed, staring up at a full moon and stars so bright they seemed to be mocking him. If he thought he had a lot on his mind before, it was nothing compared to the thoughts and feelings buzzing through his head now, not to mention the lingering after-effects of touching Rogue. La Luna, Dans quoi est-ce que je me suis entré?*




*What have I gotten myself into?
***

Rogue played absently with her spoon, dipping it in and out of her bowl of cereal but not taking a bite. For some reason, she just didn't feel like eating breakfast this morning--instead, she found herself having odd cravings for gumbo.

She sighed, and attempted to focus on her history textbook--she had a test in half an hour which she had conveniently not studied for. No use--her mind kept wandering away from the significance of the Articles of Confederation and back to a certain Cajun and the way the moon peeked from behind the clouds last night, when he asked her to touch him.

Shaking her head to clear it, Rogue adjusted her notebook and took a bite of cereal, reading again about the different strategies of the federalists and the anti-federalists, desperately ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut that told her she was going to fail this test no matter what she did.

Au revoir, ma cherie, a voice said behind her. Long time no see. Rogue barely glanced up when he entered the room, moaning inwardly as his voice set off another flood of borrowed memories. she muttered before burying herself in the textbook once more.

Remy stepped back dramatically, one hand over his heart. Quoi? What's dis? No scathing remarks, no violent reactions to my entrance? He narrowed his eyes, feigning suspicion. Who are you n what've you done wit' Rogue?

Marie glared at him over her breakfast and books. If ya want me to hate you Ah can, Gambit.

Remy winced at the sound of his other name. Ah Rogue, it jus' take some gettin' used to, you bein' civil to me, non?

She sighed. Don't worry, swamp rat, I'll act normal again soon--the only reason Ah haven't left the room or yelled at ya is cause Ah'm too damn tired.

He smirked. It's Remy's handsome face dat's keepin' you up all night, oui?

Your memories, more like, she retorted. She hesitated, glancing at him, and decided that curiosity took precedence over fighting with him at the moment. What's the Thieves Guild?

His reaction was interesting. Remy's face immediately paled, and he sat up straighter, narrowing his flashing eyes. How'd ya know?

She smiled sweetly. Ah told ya--Ah absorb the memories of my victims, along with their personalities and powers.

He glared at her, his joking demeanor gone. How much d'ya know?

Rogue hesitated. She loved having one up on him, but if she wanted answers she was going to have to play nice. Oh, not that much, she said, knowing that he would go crazy wondering what she meant. But Ah can't really sort through em all. Yet.

Remy cursed mentally. He'd forgotten that, once she absorbed him, she would know everything about him--or almost everything. He didn't know how much she absorbed, how permanent it was, how much she could understand.

She was seated on the couch next to him, and now she leaned in closer, her big brown eyes wide, curious, refusing to look away. Tell me about the Thieves Guild.

He sighed. There was no getting around it. Dey a sort of... organization, based in N'awlins. The Guild is de home of pretty much any t'ief who has any pride in himself, an' dey're one of de most powerful driving forces in de city.

Rogue narrowed her eyes. He had used a lot of words to say almost nothing. There's another Guild, though... who are they?

He scowled. Dat would be de Assassins Guild, de T'ieves reg'lar enemy. Dey de same t'ing as de T'ieves Guild, cept guess who dey're made up of. He leered and sat up, leaning closer to her, making Rogue scoot back apprehensively. Dat was some kiss last night, Rogue. Never knew ya felt dat way bout ole' Remy.

She glared, and he smiled to himself, knowing that he was once more in control of the situation, and that they were done talking about dangerous topics like his past. It's the best way for my powers ta work, swamp rat, she snapped, lying. It really didn't matter where she touched someone, but he didn't need to know that.

He smirked. Sure, chere. It's all right--Remy knows it was jus' an excuse to kiss him, you don' have t' say it out loud.

In ya dreams, cajun.

he said with a wink.

Whatever. The point bein' that never in this world would Ah want to kiss ya.

He raised his eyebrows. But you were perfectly willin' to last night. T'rew yourself at me, if I recall. He was rewarded with Rogue's cheeks blazing red. You haven't changed your mind since den, have ya chere?

Rogue mustered her best glare, ignoring her burning cheeks. Dat kiss was jus' to get ya t'shut up! She winced at her accent.

Come now Rogue, surely ya can't hate Remy no more, seein' as you're practically speakin' wit' m'own voice, he teased.

Trust me cajun, havin' your memories and personality in my head is only makin' me hate ya more.

She wished she hadn't said the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. The teasing look was gone from Remy's face, replaced with... hurt. Anger. Something. His red eyes blazed and he clenched his teeth, standing up so abruptly Rogue almost fell off the couch. Before she even knew what was happening, he was walking quickly out of the room, his trench coat billowing out behind him like an angry thundercloud.

Remy, wait! She was standing up, running after him. He turned and glared at her, and for a second Rogue realized just why people called him Le Diable Blanc in his memories--he could be, was, damn scary. Ah... Ah didn't mean that the way it came out.

Oh? Any ot'er way I could interpret dat statement? His tone was harsh, and Rogue looked away, angry at herself and at him.

Yes! Ah... it's not you, Ah just--

Just what? Hate me even more now dat you know de t'ings I've done, de people I know? Forget it chere--I had t'ought dat maybe you didn't hate me as much as ya said ya did, dat's why I stuck around, but now dat I can see dat's obviously not de case, I'll jus' be gettin' out of your way.

She scowled, looking away from his eyes. She hated eating her own words. Ah don't hate ya, she muttered. You just... annoy the shit out of me!

He shook his head in disgust. You know, you can say it if my memories, de t'ings I've done, de people I knew... if it was all too much f'r ya, if it made ya truly despise me. Don' worry, I won't take it personal--y' can't help it if my life don' fit in wit' your tidy little situation here.

It's not that! Ah just--dammit, Remy, what do ya think happens to me once Ah've absorbed someone?

Don't know, don't care. He turned to go, but Rogue grabbed his arm. Every single person Ah've ever absorbed stays right here, She said, tapping her head. The memories and personality, they never leave--Ah can push em back, not talk to em, get better control an' all that, but they're always gonna be there. Goadin' me, haunting me.

He seemed unimpressed. His red eyes flashed, and Rogue could tell he was about to make another angry retort. Your memories, your personality, they're just one more thing for me to deal with. One more person encroaching on my sanity. He tried to turn away again but she grabbed his face, wrenching him towards her, and found herself staring into eyes the color of blood. Blood... there had been so much of that in his life... Your memories are haunting my nightmares, Gambit. When Ah woke up this morning, Ah thought Ah was in New Orleans, and then Ah blew up mah alarm clock jus' by touching it. She let go of him and took a step back, turning angrily away. That's why Ah said what Ah said, that' why just lookin' at ya makin' my head hurt. You're just another player in my head, fightin' for control, fightin' to make me disappear. That's the god damn problem, Remy. She looked up, meeting his eyes, her voice now barely more than a whisper. It's not you.

Silence stretched between them like a circus tightrope, neither one wanting to take the first step. Somewhere in the back of her mind Rogue noticed that this was the first time he'd ever looked at her so earnestly. No, it wasn't so much that he was serious, it was.... a stray thought of his popped into her head: something made her far too sexy for her own good whenever she got angry...she intoxicated him, pulling the reluctant but enthralled Cajun in before he even knew what was going on... Standing there, drowning in a devil's eyes, she knew the feeling was mutual. Somehow, despite her power, he had managed to suck her in...

Remy Lebeau swallowed, completely unable to break eye contact with the petulant teenager in front of him. Dat's all she is... some pouty little girl t'rowin' a temper tantrum, he tried desperately to convince his mind, knowing that he didn't believe a word. Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth, breathing in, about to speak.

Rogue! There you are! The tightrope snapped as Bobby Drake entered the room, rushing over to his girlfriend. He smiled to her, oblivious to the way she stared at him as if he were a stranger. I've been looking for you all over the place.

He moved in to kiss her, already icing up, but Rogue stopped him with a chaste hug. That's... real good you're home, Bobby, she said, her tone distracted and dazed. Before she quite knew what was happening, he was leading her off, chatting about his adventures in Boston and aking what had happened while he was gone, and Rogue didn't hear a word. She glanced back to the spot on the carpet where the world had disappeared into red and black. He was silhouetted against the window, his head bowed and his trench coat flaring out behind him as he fled from the scene of the crime.

Bobby leaned in to kiss her, his lips crackling and frosty. Rogue didn't feel anything but the lingering burn of firelight eyes.