So, by unanimous consent, the title will not change! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. School is starting to get hectic, but I will try to updated at least once a week.

ishandahalf: She is a bitch, isn't she? "quick like a bunny on crack" . . . I love it!!

LanceIsHot: Yes, him talking in third person can be sexy . . . if the right person writes it, and I am not the right person to write it.

GothikStrawberry: Wow! Um, first question: She didn't know he was going to be a mutant, she just didn't want the baby. You can choose the reason, mine is that she wasn't planning on getting pregnant, you know teen pregnancy kinda thing. Second: His father was a mutant, and maybe he had the same eyes, I left it open for interpretation, ya know? Remy's past is mysterious, so I wanted to leave it that way. And third: I don't think you are going to meet him . . . although, that would be a great plot twist . . . I'll have to get back to you on that ;)

Also thanks to: Zoken, Spyder616, PyroManiac, and Chica De Los Ojos Cafe. Glad to have sparked your interest!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I most likely don't own.

Notes: Let's see . . . just so you don't get confused, I'm jumping back to present day. The rest of Remy's past will be discussed later, most likely in dream, flashbacks, ect. I'm not sure if the X-men are going to be in this chapter or not, but here are everyone's ages, for reference.

Remy: 21 (almost 22)

Scott, Jean, St. John: 21

Piotr: 22

Rogue, Kurt, Kitty: 20

Angelique (you'll meet her soon!): 4


-Chapter One-

Home sweet home?

Small Apartment / Bayville, New York / present day (2005)

"It's official mate, we've hit rock bottom." A young man dropped his bags on the floor and ran a hand through his already tousled, fiery hair.

Another man stepped up behind him. "C'mon, Johnny, look at de bright side. Least we found a place t' live." His shaded eyes scanned the room. "But I'll agree dat it is a piece o' crap."

The first boy snorted in disbelief. "That's one way to describe it," He mumbled under his breath, adding aloud, "I told ya before, Remy, don't call me Johnny."

Remy smirked at him. "How am I s'pposed t' call ya St. John? If you're a saint, den I'm de pope."

St. John made a face at him. "Pyro. For the thousandth time, call me Pyro."

Remy just shook his head. Dat's not a name, dat's a fetish, Johnny. He walked inside their new . . . home.

The apartment was starting to dilapidate and it looked as if it had seen its better years. There was a tiny kitchen that had the basics: stove, fridge, a couple of cabinets, and a small table. Next was the living room, which had an ancient couch and a rundown television. Off of the living room was two miniscule bedrooms and a bathroom that Remy found himself dreading to go in. Guess ya really do get what ya pay for.

Remy stood debating between the bedrooms. The one with the door off the hinges or the one with the rotting door? "Which one ya taking, mate?" Remy jumped slightly, he hadn't heard St. John come up behind him. He shrugged.

St. John peered in both rooms. "Well, both got mattresses on the floor, so at least we got beds." He looked back at Remy, who shifted the bundle in his arms as it started to squirm. "Why don't ya take this one mate?" He pointed to the loose door. "The room is bigger."

"T'anks mi ami." The two went their separate ways to get settled in.

The room wasn't much. A grimy window, a mattress, and a busted bureau. Remy heaved a sigh. Dis'll have t' do. He placed the bundle of blankets down on the mattress, took off his trench coat, and began to sort out his belongs, sparse as they were.

He had just finished putting away the few clothes he owned, when he was interrupted by a little voice. "Pere?"

He went over to the bed. A little 4-year-old body was trying to disentangle herself from the cocoon of blankets. "Need some help petite ange?" He asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. He pulled the blanket away, revealing a mass of curly hair, the same shade of brown as his.

She blinked her sleepy, red-on-white eyes. "Is dis our new house daddy?"

"Oui."

"Where's St. John?"

"Well, he was puttin' his stuff way, so by now he prob'ly gave up and ordered a pizza." Right on cue, the doorbell rang and the Australian's voice floated through the apartment. "Dinner's here!"

The Cajuns shared a knowing smile. "Hungry Angelique?" She nodded. "Den let's go before our crazy roommate eats all de food." He scooped her up and pretended to fly her into the kitchen.

"You're silly, daddy." She managed to get out between giggles as he set her down at the table.

"See, mate? Even your own daughter thinks you're weird. And you didn't believe me," The flame lover scoffed. He held up his hand for a high five. "Way to go, Angie."

Giggling, she slapped her tiny hand against his. Remy shot him a dirty look, but Pyro acted innocent, or at least as innocent as he could look with a whole slice of pizza stuffed in his mouth. Remy threw aempty soda bottleat him. St. John ducked and it sailed out the open window behind him. They heard a shout from down below. St. John peered at the victim, his eyes widen and he ran to lock the door.

Remy shook his head and covered Angeliqe's ears as a man pounded on the door, spouting obsenities. Jus' anot'er 'family' dinner.

/Later that night/

Remy lay gazing at the ceiling. He could hear his daughter's steady breathing beside him. He rolled over to look at her. She lived up to her name, truly looking like little angel, bathed in the moonlight. Gently he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. He pulled the blanket over her shoulders and made sure she had her teddy bear, one of the few toys he had been able to afford for her.

His gaze returned to the ceiling, where the paint was cracked and peeling. Dis is no place t' raise her. Mon dieu, what I wouldn't give t' give ya a better life, ange. I mus' be de worst father in de world. Raisin'ya when I have no money, no home, and I live wit' an irresponsible 21-year-old dat acts like he's fifteen sometimes, and de house is so small ya gotta share a room wit' me. A second voice in his mind spoke up. Least ya tryin' , ya didn' give up like your mere or turn your back on her like your adopted fam'ly. And ya love her.

His mind still racing with doubt, worry, and fear, Remy slipped off into an uneasy sleep.


Well, was that big enough of a plot twist? Did it ruin the story? Angelique's mother and all that good stuff will come later. I don't think anyone's given Remy a kid yet, if someone did and this is like your story, SORRY!

Remember, this is only the first chapter, tell me now if I should change something! Suggestions are welcome, but if you're just going to tear my story to shreds and be rude about it, YOU'RE A BIG MEANIE!