Rogue's recovered from her shock rather quickly. 'Fiancé?' thee little voice in her head asked. 'He was almost married? This guy?' Looking at Remy, standing beside her in his faded jean and black tee-shirt, his hair tousled and hands muddy, he hardly looked the 'tie the knot and settle down' type. But to such a though, the little voice in her head counted with a query of, 'why do you care?'

Surprisingly, Rogue didn't have an answer. At least not one that would have made the situation better.

"Cute l'il intro Remy, but watcha doin' here?" Belladonna asked, snapping Rogue out of her daze. Remy, his arm snaked around her waist, gave her a gentle squeeze. Sighing deeply, he said,

"'Donna…Ah need your help."

The apartment was surprisingly clean despite all external appearances. Rogue sipped lightly at the strong coffee she was nursing. Curled into a ball on the couch, one of the room's sparse furnishings, she strained to hear the voices in the room beyond, but was unable to. After Remy's confession, Belladonna had ushered them both inside, settling the exhausted girl on the sofa and requesting a private word with her former lover. That was twenty minutes ago. Now Rogue was torn between being antsy and impatient, and falling asleep from the exhausting trek the night before.

The night before…wow. It had only been a few hours, but to Rogue it felt as if all the pervious days event had occurred a lifetime ago. And the X-Men, the one's who'd saved her, taken her in and offered her a home, were they really hunting her down now? It seemed incomprehensible. But then again, she never expected to be on the run with a smooth-talking Cajun criminal, so who was she to talk. Suddenly, the incoherent mumbling that echoed softly through the room turned back into real voices as Remy and Belladonna filed out, one behind the other. Rogue might have been mistaken, but she thought Donna's eyes looked a little redder than before.

Jumping to her feet, she started to ask,

"What'er we doi," but she stopped when Remy reached the door. He'd taken his trench coat back and looked as if he had every intention of leaving.

"Look, girl," he started, "you gonna stay wit 'Donna here for a l'il while." He opened the door a crack and prepared to slink through, but found himself unable to move. Glancing back, he found Rogue gripping his coat in her strong fingers.

"Don't leave," she pleaded, surprising herself. "I don't want you to go." He smirked slightly as she blushed. Prying her hand off his coat, he held it lightly in his own for a moment.

"Now Ah ain' leavin', hun. Ah'll be back later," he assured her genuinely, but then couldn't resist adding, "Now you be a good l'il girl while Ah'm gone." Suddenly very aware of her compromising position, Rogue jerked her hand back to her chest and held it there, glaring dangerously as the door closed with a soft click.

"Now c'mon girl, Ah don' know jus' how much time we got, but Ah'd sure as hell hate to run out of it," Belladonna said softly from behind, where she sat perched on the arm of the couch. Rouge turned and gave her the same blank look, still holding her arm limply to her chest. She was having just a little trouble keeping up, and she didn't like the feeling.

"Run out of time for what?" she asked suspiciously. 'Donna grabbed her by the wrist and led her stupidly into what happened to be a cramped bathroom before saying,

"We gotta create a whole new you."

"So, where'd ya get a name like Rogue?" The silence was peppered by the sound of splashing water from where 'Donna was washing something in the sink. "Yer Momma not lik you er somethin'?" Rogue buried her head in her hands from where she sat perched on the lip of the rust-stained bathtub. Clad in nothing but a secondhand robe, she really wasn't in the mood for this conversation, but she also had no desire to piss this woman off. Especially considering how pleasant she was being. Hiding her eyes behind dripping wet locks of hair she softly muttered,

"It's not my given name. It's the name I took for myself." The explanation sounded stupid the moment she said it aloud, but Belladonna just nodded, muttering,

"Ah." In the cramped space, she finally spun from the sink, facing Rogue who jumped back. Donna glanced at the shears she was brandishing in her hand, and dropped the tip. "Sorry."

Rogue took a deep breath, slowing her racing heart. "What are you going to do with those?" she demanded. Alright, finally getting clean was nice, but she drew the line at things that involved pointy objects.

"Der scissors. What you tink Ah'm gonna do wit dem?" Belladonna asked sarcastically. "We gonna give you a l'il trim." Rogue flew off her butt and almost impaled herself once again.

"Oh no!" she cried, crossing her arms resolutely over her chest. "No one said anything about cutting my hair." Donna put a hand on the girl's shoulder and, with surprising strength, pushed her back down onto the tub.

"Look," she began in a no-nonsense tone, "Yer hair, it'll grow back. But if you get caught, yer neck won'. Trust me, a new 'do is da best disguise." Rogue continued to glare. "Ah promise Ah'll make it look good." The runaway finally tossed up her hands, admitting defeat.

"Fine, do your worst." 'Donna smirked and went right to work, making sure not to nick Rogue, who winced with every falling lock. Desperate to take her mind off her current situation (and rapidly shrinking amount of hair) Rogue fired back with a personal question of her own.

"Did you love him?" The snap, snap of the scissors paused for a brief second, and Rogue worried that she might have crossed the line. But finally the cutting resumed as the woman spoke, choosing each word carefully.

"Ah…Ah guess Ah was in love wit de ideah of him," she said slowly. "It was…such a complicated situation." She shrugged, but Rogue had to know more, and before she could stop them, the words had already crossed her lips.

"What happened between you two?" "Donna sighed, and Rouge heard her sit down beside her.

"Da Thieves and da Assassins 'ave been fightin' fer as long as Ah can remember," she began in a very 'story-teller' voice. "When Ah was sixteen, mah great-uncle died, leavin' mah father ta lead durin' one of the guild's most troubled times," Rogue didn't mean to interrupt as it appeared that this was a difficult subject for 'Donna to discuss, but she was quite lost.

"I though Remy's dad was the guild leader?"

"He is," the blonde replied, "fer da thieves." The little light bulb clicked on over Rogue's head.

"You mean…you're an assassin?" she demanded. 'Donna chuckled softly under her breath, a proud smile playing over her lips.

"Yup, born an' raised."

"Wow…I had no idea…." Rogue muttered, "so, what happened after your Dad took over?"

"Well, mah father had some diff'rent ideahs about leadin'. He'd seen too many men, boys, fall to der deaths 'cause of senseless issues we was all too stubborn ta put behind us." Her gaze softened as she continued. "Couple years later da LeBeau 's took over dere neck o' da woods, and Jean-Luc shared some o' da same views as mah father. So one nigh' dey met in secret to try and find a solution to da madness. What dey came up wit was an inter-guild union- a marriage."

"Romeo and Juliet style?" Rogue interjected.

"'Xactly. It worked jus' 'bout as well as it did in da book, too," she said sarcastically. "At da time, Henri was already betrothed to a 'nuther, so Jean-Luc offered Remy from his line. Mah father offered me," he voice got slightly softer…sadder as she spoke. "Ah was jus' twenty, Remy was a young eighteen. Mah father was so thrilled when he told me, so sure he had jus' saved our clan. And Ah…well Ah knew who Remy was. E'ery girl did; he was quite da catch. But I didn' know him, not really. Ah was so thrilled. Ah'd get ta help mah family, mah friends, plus Ah'd get ta be da wife of the most sought after man in N'Orleans. We started meetin', in secret o' course, and Ah t'ought Ah was in love. Ah t'ought Remy was too.

"So, what went wrong?" Rogue asked.

"One nigh', few months before da union, he cam ta see meh, outta da blue. An' he said dat, for da good o' everyone he loved, he would remain fait'ful ta meh, best he could. But, for da first time, Ah saw regret in his eyes," she was looking past thee dingy bathroom wall now, peering back into a memory only she could see. "He…he didn' wanna marry meh, and…Ah realized dat Ah really didn' want to eit'er. We was so diff'rent, and forcing dis upon two kids jus' wasn' fair ta either one o' us."

"So, what did you do?" Rogue demanded, captivated in the story.

"Ah ran," she admitted after a moment. "Remy was so stubborn dat he would've gone t'rough wit it all for da sake of da family. Ah…Ah wasn' so amenable. Ah knew mah father would ne'er accept mah decision , and Ah needed mah freedom. So Ah picked up and ran," she admitted sadly, turning to look Rogue in the eye. Frighteningly, she saw tears there. "I lef' da Guild's to dere own means and Ah ran."

Rogue dropped her gaze, focusing on the grimy tile pattern below her bare feet ass the story flowed all over her. It was so unfair, these young people thrown into a problem not their not their own. Kind of like all the kids at the school, thrust into a world that hated them, without a chance to protest or plead. So much unfairness in the world, inflicted on generation after generation. So much hatred… Belladonna broke the silence by clearing her throat.

"'Bout two months after Ah left, Remy tracked me down. Ah 'ave no idea how," she said as she resumed cutting, "but that's Remy for you: full of surprises. Ah begged him not ta tell anyone where Ah was."

"And…?" Rogue prompted after a moment's pause.

"Ah've been here almost two years now, and far as Ah know, he ain't told a soul." A final snip penetrated the silence of the air before 'Donna said, "Dere, all done," with a (careful) flourish of her hands. Digging around in a drawer, she handed Rogue a crack hand mirror. Almost frightened at what she'd see, Rogue cracked an eyelid, and was pleased at the reflection that greeted her. She had to hand it to Bella, the girl was good with a pair of scissors.

"Thanks," Rogue muttered appreciatively, playing with the ends of her hair, which now fell even with her chin. She was startled when 'Donna forced the mirror away and was looking at her on the level, kneeling on the floor. There was something deep and penetrating in her gaze.

"Rogue," she prompted, "Ah want you to promise meh somethin'," The runaway nodded. "Don' break his heart." Rogue's heart skipped a beat, her mouth moving compulsively before she managed a confused,

"What," but 'Donna pressed a finger against her lips, miming for Rogue to be quiet.

"Don'," she said. "Ah can jus' tell by da way he looks at ya. He cares fer ya, hun. An' unless mah radar's way off, you feel somethin' fer him too. He's a rarity among men, 'specially in dese parts. Noble and strong and loyal…Ah jus' need you to promise meh dat you'll be good to 'im, dat you won' break his heart." Lost and tumbling in a whirl of emotion, Rogue caught herself nodding. Belladonna removed her finger, a satisfied look on her face. She leapt gracefully to her feet and out the door, looking back at the shell-shocked Rogue, still poised on the edge of the tub.

"C'mon girl, get yer tush movin'. We cain't have you walkin' outside in yer birthday suit." A strange comfort easing over her being, the girl obediently followed.

The smoke in the dank building hung thick and low in the air, concealing those within. That was a good thing if you were on the run, a bad thing if you were looking for someone. Remy fit into both of those categories.

Strolling over to the bar, Remy perched on the edge of a stool, and was immediately noticed by the bartender. And ancient man with a face like well worn leather, he moved with a shuffled gait, salt-and-pepper hair framing his face in two, long braids. He smiled slowly when he spied the Cajun.

"Remy." He nodded slowly, dark eyes glinting with mischief worthy of someone half his age. "S'been a while, boy. Wha' can I getcha ya?" He picked up a shot glass in his hand and began wiping it down with a filth covered rag. "Da usual?"

"Naw, Chief," Remy drawled. "Ah ain't drinkin' today. Ah'm lookin' for information."

Chief set down the shot glass and leaned against the counter. Years ago he'd had a real name, but it had been lost somewhere along the way. Come up from Florida, he was descendant of a Seminole Indian tribe, but they had died out too, just like his name. So round New Orleans he was simply Chief, owner of the ransacked bar 'cross town, a common haunt for lowlifes, thieves, and lonely women. Course, being a bartender for such, Chief was also an invaluable resource to someone in a profession such as Remy's. He was counting on the man to come through in the clutch as he always did. This would be the last time he'd have to,

"Well, buy a drink, an' de information's free," he said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a bottle from his personal stash. The dark whisky that filled the shot glass was strong enough to make even the biggest men's eyes water, but Remy though it back without so much as blinking. The old man chuckled appreciatively as the glass was slammed back down against the counter, dry as before. "Ya hold yer liquor like yer old man," he murmured. "So, what 'xactly ya wanna know this time?" Remy scanned the are quickly, leaning in low to the bar.

"Anyone in here, past c'ple days, askin' 'bout a runaway girl?"

"Dis wouldn't have anyting to do wit dat girl your Guild caught da ot'er day, would it?" Chief asked back with that glint in his eye. Remy cussed low under his breath.

"Which one was jarrin' off dis time 'round?" he asked, his forehead resting on the edge of the bar. The old barkeep chuckled again, a disconcerting sound that raised the hair on the back of your neck.

"None other den yer old pal Touley."

"Merdre," Remy muttered under his breath, slamming a fist against the rickety bar. Touley was determined to make his life miserable, he just knew it.

"So, what's your interest in dis girl, Remy? Lookin' to add anot'er name to your list o' conquered women?" Chief knew, probably better than anyone, just how many hearts Remy had broken in this town. Many of women had sadly drunk away their broken hearts at this very bar.

"Shut up Chief," he said with vexation. "Anyone else?"

"Oh yeah, dere been a bunch of people," the old man drawled, loving the fact that he was in control. "Da firs' was dis kinda short guy on a big bike. Asked a lotta questions, had a passion fer his cigars, liked imported beer. Canuck if Ah e'er saw one." Remy stored the description in the back of his mind.

"Da second?"

"Well, she…" the bartender began when Remy cut him off.

"She? One's a woman?"

Actually, two be women. Anyways, da second woman came in a l'il after da man lef'. Pretty red head," he said, whistling low under his breath. "Shouldn' been walkin' in here at da hour she did, but wouldn' listen ta anyting Ah had ta say on da matter. Sat at dar bar, nursed a beer, lef' alone, though lotsa men woulda been willin'."

"An' da last one?" Remy prompted, wishing her could get the old man to talk faster. But Chief always was slow with the tongue, but quick with the liquor, and today seemed to be no exception.

"Ah…she in here just las' night. Blonde, leggy, easy lookin'. Pretty as sin, mean as a water moccasin, she did shots, asked lotsa questions, and knocked a guy on his ass when he tried ta pick 'er up."

"And what, 'xactly, did you tell 'em Chief?" Remy asked, cocking an eyebrow. Chief shot him a wicked grin.

"Dat I ain't heard nothin' or seen da liks o' such a girl." Remy slid Chief a bill as he got up and headed to the door.

"Dat oug't ta be enough to cover da drink an' your silence," he said. "Dat 'cluded Guild boys too, got it?" Chief looked down at the money but didn't take it.

"Hey, you got it, kid," he said, as the thief forced the swinging door open, barely visible through the smoke. "Hey Gambit," he called as an afterthought, using an alias Remy hadn't gone by in years. "Good luck." The Cajun stuck his head back through the door.

"Don' call me dat," he called back, slipping his head out, letting the door close behind him with a dull SQUEAK as the rusty hinges were forced to move. Chief just chuckled, shoving the bill deep into his pocket and resuming his shot glass cleaning, completely oblivious to the SQUEAK that signaled someone else leaving as well.

Remy was distracted. That was the only way he could account for what happened. In his rush to get back and check on the girls he was careless with his travel, where he went and how he got there. Making short work of the mile and a half walk, he never even paused long enough to notice he was being followed. Some of that can be attributed to his tracker's skill and determination, but Remy still blamed himself.

In his haste he charged up the stairs of the apartment complex, not noticing the figure lurking in the shadows below. He rapped on the door once, tapping his foot.

"C'mon 'Donna," he muttered, rapping smartly on the door again. That's when he heard it: swift footsteps, coming up behind him. Remy whirled instinctively…or he tried to, but his assailant's hand wound around his neck, cutting off his air supply and pinning him in place. A sharp noise penetrated the air around the two.

SNIKT

Three cold blades suddenly pressed dangerously against the flesh of Remy's throat. Pinned back against a strong body from behind, Remy's vision swam in front of him as a voice, cold and harsh, whispered into his ear.

"Alright bub, where the hell is she?"

A/N: Now please go review. I haven't had any in so long I think I'm in withdrawal.

Please…