Yeah, another chapter. I must be taking pity on your guys, uploading two in one day. Psh. But I figure since the last one had no Romy in it whatsoever, I should give you guys another dosage. Plus, no reviews to have to respond to!!

But really, I love how you guys review--really appreciate it. Keep them coming else I might get down and stop writing. God, pray that doesn't happen bc once I lose the juice, it might not ever come back! Horrible. The story must be finished! Ok, just READ!

--------------------------------------

The quiet was beginning to irk him. He sat in the chair facing the Professor's desk, twiddling his fingers. The bandage on his head was no longer as chunky, but nevertheless there. He itched to just tear it off.

"I apologize for the tardiness of this meeting," the Professor said. He smiled pleasantly at the newcomer. "Certain events have required my personal attention. I see your wounds are healing nicely, Mr. LeBeau."

"Work of de good doc," Remy said. "And call me, Remy...sir." How was he supposed to address this man? He felt uneasy around such an eminent character. Professor Xavier's illustriousness stood on par with Magneto's notoriety, but Remy was more comfortable around the magnetic bucket head--at least he couldn't read minds.

The Professor nodded in agreement. He decided to skip the small talk and proceed to business. "Now, I am sure you are expecting this, but I must ask how it was you came upon our doors. We found you in a critical condition and I am compelled to know why it is you sought us out."

Remy saw his coming. He sighed, ran a hand through his brown hair, "Got m'self in a tight fix, needed some help."

"What sort of 'tight fix'," the Professor asked.

"Don't you read minds?" Remy frowned. "Why not just fish out de answers?"

The Professor shrugged nonchalantly, "I could, but I choose to respect the privacy of others. I do not intrude upon one's thoughts unless they give permission. The most I can do at this moment is sense your discomfort."

Remy raised an eyebrow and shrugged in return, "Guess I have no reason to be s'picious of y'intentions. Still alive and kickin', non?"

"Indeed," the Professor replied patiently. They continued to stare at each other, Remy holding a scrutinizing silence. The Professor could tell he was not keen to trust and unconditional aid was something he was not accustomed to encountering. "I am only here to help you, Remy," the Professor assured him. "As I am here to help all my students in this Institute."

Remy figured the man already knew a few minor facts about his past. If Magneto kept files regarding the X-Men, what would restrain Xavier from doing the same about the Acolytes? "I was workin' on a heist," he said. "Since Mags been gone, got a lil' restless y'know? People 'round places know 'bout how I used t'be a T'ief. De other night I got a call from a man, said his name was Theodore Farrat. Wanted me t'break into a pharmaceutical company and steal some drugs."

The Professor's brow furrowed in curiosity, "What sort of drugs?"

"Can't say," Remy shrugged. "Looked at de bottle but seemed jus' like a powerful sed'tive. Liquid, too, needs t'be injected." He looked at his nails, noticing they were dirty, and began picking at them. "N'way, got dere, got out, and was jumped by my ol' pals from N'Awlins. Don't know how dey found me."

"Do you believe this Theodore Farrat informed them?"

"Nah. Seemed like a random fellow tryin' t'get his hands on drugs he couldn't," Remy said. "Was holdin' my own jus' fine for a while, den somet'ing strange happened." He paused to think about it, then under the Professor's prodding look, explained what happened with the ghostly image he saw and the feeling of being absorbed. "Didn't last long, though. Julien an' his boys knocked me out and de last t'ing I 'member are red an' blue lights. Cops came and tried t'take me to a hospital but seein' as how I'm a mutant and t'ief, couldn't stay wit' dem." Remembering the experience only disturbed him more. He looked at the Professor, "Any idea what it was, Prof?"

The bald man was in deep thought, eyes no longer trained on him. "Yes, that was how she did it, absorbed them, but she needed to touch..." he muttered to himself. He looked up, "You say you saw a...ghost?"

"Wispy an' kinda smoky an' nobody else saw her, jus' me," Remy explained, recalling it vividly. "Looked like a young girl, Rogue's age maybe." One that had similar powers as her. "T'ink it's a mutant?"

The Professor nodded, "One that I've had the displeasure of encountering in the past. But if what you say is true then this cannot be the same because she was a physical entity and required skin-to-skin contact, much like Rogue. Though unlike Rogue..." His words trailed away as if just realizing he was not alone. "Thank you for the perspective, Remy. I have taken consideration of your injuries and want you to know that you are welcome to stay for as long as you need. I am not soliciting anything, but if you were to feel...settled, know that there is room for you here at the Institute. And we always welcome a new face."

"'Preciate de offer, mon ami," Remy said, "but don't know if I wanna get tied down t'someone else's cause again."

The Professor wheeled himself from behind the desk to the door, "Of course. It is, after all, only an offer." He smiled pleasantly as Remy stood to leave.

Just as he was almost out the door he turned and asked, "Favor, Prof? If y'find out what dat t'ing was, lemme know?"

"I intended so. This is a threat to all mutants. I'm sure you've heard about the predator out on the streets who only mutants are victim to."

"All over de news, frere," Remy sighed. "Guess I was lucky, non? I lived."

The Professor frowned, "Yes, yes, that is true." He stroked his bare chin thoughtfully, "We must get to the bottom of this. May I come to you when in need of assistance, Remy? There might be other details that require your perspective."

"Jus' holler," Remy said and left.

Summer was steadily coming to a close. With only a few weeks left before school started most of the Institute residents chose to revel in the free time remaining. The weather permitted any activity their youthful hearts desired. Cool nights and seventy-degree days. The day was sunny without a cloud in the sky.

The X-Men had gathered in the front yard for a game of ultimate frisbee, powers prohibited. Rogue sat at the water fountain with Jubilee and Amara as spectators. They made bets as to how long it would take before someone cheated. Only five minutes into the game and Kurt bampfed from the ground to reappear in the air and catch the frisbee, then bampfed back down. Like a catalyst every mutant began taking advantage of their powers. Ice and fire flew, multiples of the same kid cluttered the field, little cherry bombs exploded... Jubilee and Amara pouted as they handed Rogue five bucks each.

As she stuffed the bills into her pockets, Rogue looked up at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Jubilee and Amara turned as well and immediately blushed several hues of rose. "Hi, Gambit," they called in unison. Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Bonjour, mes bella femmes," he said, smiling in the oh-so-charming, oh-so-irritating way. "And please, de name's Remy." He approached the fountain and continued to charm the younger girls while Rogue returned her attention to the frisbee game.

Amara gazed at him, a young girl captivated by a handsome, red-eyed face. "Whoa, are those part of your mutation?" she asked innocently.

"None other, p'tite," he replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Do dey scare you?"

Amara smiled and her cheeks flushed, "No."

"I think they're cool," Jubilee stated. She looked out at the field to where Scott was leaping in the air for the frisbee. "Wonder what color Scott's eyes are. Nobody's ever seen them you know." She beamed prettily at Remy, "But your eyes are probably cooler. Do you see red?"

"Nah, not durin' de day, but at night, in de dark, 's like night vision."

"Cool," the girls gushed. Jubilee seemed to notice that Rogue was actively ignoring Remy and elbowed her in the ribs, receiving a nasty scowl.

"Reason why dis pale pretty's ignorin' me?" the Cajun asked the girls.

Rogue rolled her eyes. Jubilee shrugged, "Don't know. Hey, Rogue, you're being rude to our sick house guest."

"He ain't that sick," came the retort.

"Ah, but I'm wounded, chere," Remy said, grimacing in subterfuge appearance, but was truly pained by his side gashes. "Could use some lovin' durin' de healing process."

Rogue snorted, "Looks like you're getting enough of that already, swamp rat."

"Pet names now, eh chere?" he smiled in his debonair fashion. "Didn't t'ink we'd gotten dat far already."

"Ah got other things to call ya, Cajun, wanna hear 'em?" Rogue glared.

"Anythin' you say go'n' sound sweet."

"Not the things Ah have in mind."

"Wish y'could hear what I wanna call you, chere. T'ink your fair cheeks may pink a bit."

"That'd only happen if ya pissed me off."

"Mon dieu, you're cute when y'mad."

"Ya won't be thinking that when Ah'm through with you."

"Naw, chere, hope you'll never be t'rough wit' me."

"Ya will when it starts to hurt."

"Already does, ma belle ange, already does."

Jubilee and Amara watched the exchange in amused fascination. The two Southerners spoke quickly, retorting and replying as though the scene was rehearsed from script. When it stopped Rogue was frowning doubtfully at Gambit while he gazed at her easily with his charmingly demonic eyes.

"Well, that was interesting," Amara quipped.

"Heads up!"

An abused frisbee came spiraling their way. By reflex Gambit reached out to grab it and immediately wished he hadn't. "Agh," he cried out as he felt his stitches stretch painfully. He grabbed his side and fell to his knees, breathing hard. The frisbee fell from his hand and splashed into the fountain.

Rogue stood up in alarm but Jubilee and Amara were already at his side.

"'S fine," he assured them, waving them away. "Jus' a shock, dat's all."

"Ya'll better get him to the Infirmary," Rogue said. "The blood's seeping through his shirt."

"Why don't you take me, cherie?" he asked, almost a challenge.

Rogue narrowed her eyes. Jubilee and Amara looked at her, then back at Remy. Both knew about the abduction to Louisiana but neither understood the present tension. Rogue had seemed a little cheerier than usual when she got back but that only lasted a few days. The girls decided not to get caught in any crossfire. Amara fished the frisbee out of the fountain and grabbed her friend's hand, "Come on, Jubes, let's join the game." They ran off.

Rogue continued standing, rooted to the ground while Remy remained propped against the fountain rim. She wasn't sure what to do, what to make of the situation. Why was he so insistent with his come ons? Was she to take them seriously or regard it as what a flirtatious personality projected? An image of Jean-flirting popped up and annoyed her. She remembered extended periods of time on dark, sleepless nights that she spent staring at his parting gift--the Queen of Hearts. She had remembered his words... You will be fine, cherie. Remember, y'got people watchin' over you... and was comforted. She was forced to hope upon hope that maybe she wouldn't have to be alone all her life, that maybe someone could care about her despite the barrier of her powers...

"Kinda...in need of assistance, chere," he said, breaking into her thoughts. "Mind quittin' de oglin' for a bit t'help me? Not dat I mind..."

Rogue glared at him, "Ah wasn't ogling you." And of course she had to hope on a thieving, skirt-chasing, swamp rat. Her own stupidity angered her. She pulled him to his feet, slinging his arm around her shoulder. She stiffened when he wrapped the other around her waist, turning her to face him. The scent of his light cologne and fresh-out-of-the-shower smell made her lightheaded. She avoided looking at his face. "What are you doing."

"Enjoyin' de view," he said.

"Ya're going to bleed all over my clothes," Rogue snapped. She began pulling him towards the door, acting as support and nothing else.

"So y'are still mad 'bout N'Awlins," Remy said as she helped him into the mansion.

Rogue snorted, "Ever think maybe the world doesn't revolve around you?"

"'Course, 'cept when i'does. How 'bout I make it up t'you? Take y'out to dinner, buy you somethin' nice..." He almost cried out when he bumped painfully into the doorway.

"Oops," Rogue said with a smirk. She helped him into the Infirmary but Dr. McCoy was nowhere to be seen. She settled him on the bed he'd been in before and looked around. "Take off your shirt."

"Right to it, eh, chere?" he grinned.

Rogue fought to keep her expression unaffected. She would psych him out, act like she didn't care until he gave up pursuing her attention. After all, it was what the whole game was about--chase. She had absorbed him, just enough to get a glimpse of who he was, and knew enough to see he loved a challenge, loved the pursuit, and pleasured in reaping in the prize before discarding it. She had an advantage over his other hunts; she knew his ways.

Remy sighed and pulled off his blue shirt. He seemed to call a moment of truce as he sat back and let her look at the stained bandages. "Careful, chere," he said. "'S tender."

Rogue carefully peeled back the bandages, gloved fingers brushing against his hard abdomen. She drew in a breath, wondering if he noticed. Remy shirtless was much more captivating than Remy dressed. She focused on the nasty gashes and cuts on his side, at the stretched stitches. "Jesus, Cajun, what'd you do to deserve all this?"

"I'll tell y' a story sometime."

Rogue looked at him suspiciously, wanting to ask more. Instead she said, "Well, Ah don't think ya hurt yourself too much. Just need to change the bandage and make it tighter to slow the bleeding. I'll go get Mr. McCoy."

"'S a simple job, Rogue," Remy said. He rarely used her name and when he did, she was annoyed by the way her stomach reacted. "Don't wanna bother the good doc for tedious tasks, non?"

"Then do it yourself," Rogue bit off, ready to leave. Anger at her own foolish crush and his insensitive flirting was boiling dangerously close to the surface. She saw the puzzled expression on his face and was confirmed of her doubts. He was just playing the game. None of this was serious for him and she was looking like a downright bitch taking it to heart. As if any of this was personal. With a resigned sigh she began rummaging about the counters and cabinets until she found fresh tape and gauze.

She worked wordlessly, taking off his stained bandages, cleaning the blood off, and wrapping fresh ones around his wounds. She never once looked up, never once noticed the way he watched her curiously, studying every detail of her being. When she was finished, she turned to put the materials away when he caught her hands. She swallowed. No hoping.

"T'anks, chere. You really are an angel, non?"

Her discomfort increased dramatically as he tugged her closer. She dared to look up, into his satanic eyes that were so alluring she nearly fell into them. Wasn't there more to this than pointless flirtation?

So, all this trouble and Ah thought you didn't like you father.

I don't. Jus' because someone adopts you, doesn't make dem a parent.

Yeah.

Mystique? Y'mean it wasm't her motherly instincts dat led her to take you in?

Let's just say it was my powers she wanted to nuture.

You an' I, we could write a book 'bout it. Been down de same roads...

Wasn't there greater depth to it all? Wasn't there an understanding? Compassion?

His face was dangerously close, his mouth smooth-looking and kissable.

"Can't touch me," Rogue murmured.

"I find a way 'round it," he smirked, hand trailing up the length of her arm.

So that was it. The challenge. The forbidden fruit that enticed all. Rogue closed her eyes and pulled away, hating him for ruining the moment with his impertinence. She put away the first aid materials, slamming drawers and cabinets shut. Who am Ah kiddin'. This guy is all about sensuality. He needs touch.

"Somethin' de matter?" Remy asked, confused. He thought the situation had been going well.

Before Rogue shot a witty comeback someone else interrupted them.

All students report to the planning room immediately.

Remy looked around in alarm at first, then realized who it was. "Professor?"

Rogue nodded, forgetting the previous tension. "Yeah. He sounded urgent. C'mon, let's go." She helped him out of the Infirmary.

"Two of the earliest victims have passed," Ororo reported. "The doctors said the coma grows so heavy and unyielding over time that the victims eventually fall to death. Their bodies no longer have the energy or sustenance to keep functioning, even with the help life-assistance machines." She crossed her arms, frowning worriedly. "The longer it takes to find the source of these attacks, the less chance the victims have of recovering."

All the X-Men allowed her words to sink in. Gathered about the planning room and having been debriefed on the current situation, everyone was spooked. The beauty of the day and fun from earlier was soon forgotten.

Hank sat at the computer, pulling up files and snapshots. "The Professor believes the attacks may be related to one particular mutant he encountered ten years ago." The large computer screen showed the picture of a beautiful, dark-haired woman.

"Her name is Patricia Velkonnen," the Professor explained. "This is an old snapshot. She should be close to fifty years old now. She is a first-generation mutant, with the ability to absorb people's life energy and the powers of other mutants."

Rogue felt a few eyes turn in her direction.

The Professor looked more and more troubled as he continued, "But her powers were more of a curse than a gift. Her mutation required her to absorb the life energy of others in order to survive. She floated through Europe, feeding off anyone, anywhere--and those unlucky enough to experience her draining touch died within moments. After a while she began preying only on mutants because they supplied more efficient 'nectar', as she called it. Her methods of attack earned her the title of Wraith.

"I was visiting Europe in the time her terrorizing was at its peak. Nobody knew who Wraith was then but I could telephatically sense a great disturbance in the psyche of Particia Velkonnen, the wife of an esteemed Austrian count who I happened to have befriended in my younger days. I will not delve into the unpleasant details, but with great struggle I managed to subdue her long enough to try and find an alternative means for her to survive. She fought back terribly, denying my entrance into her mind. She went mad, somehow starting a fire in the west wing of their manor. No one found any of her remains after the fire died out but there was no way she could have survived."

Scott asked, "Then how is she the one behind the attacks?"

"And the victims here haven't been, like, dying...right away," Kitty piped up. "It can't be the same person."

"The ambiguity of the situation has not escaped my attention," the Professor said. "I have a feeling that Patricia Velkonnen is connected to this in one way or another, and though the victims have suffered different fates, the descriptions and method of attack are identical. However, it is strange that the attacks have been carried out by an unseen foe..." He scanned the room until he locked eyes with Gambit. "You described a ghost-like figure hovering over you while you were under attack. Did it resemble the picture you see on the screen?"

All eyes turned to the Acolyte. He scratched his head and looked at the photograph. "Wasn't a whole lot of detail. De girl was real foggy, like smoke, but yeah, dere's a relation. But I don't t'ink it looked exactly like de woman. She was younger. Could be wrong, though."

"Wait a minute," Scott said, turning suspiciously towards Gambit. "If you got attacked how come you haven't gone comatose?"

It was the Professor that answered, "That has yet to be determined. Remy, you should consider yourself very fortunate. But for the time being--" The rest of his words were drowned out.

Alarms had gone off, echoing through the planning room. The mansion was under attack from outside. The X-Men hurried out to the front foyer, gathering together in preparation. A lonely red figure had broken through the gate, dragging a tall, gangly form behind her. Scarlet Witch tossed her hexes at the mansion's defenses, barely holding them off until Hank shut them down. She reached the foot of the mansion steps and dropped an unconscious boy onto the pavement.

"Lance!" Kitty gasped.

"Help him," Wanda said breathlessly. "I didn't know where else to go." She fell to her knees, tired from physical exertion.

Instantly she became surrounded as Lance was gathered up and taken to the Infirmary. "I--I don't know what happened," Wanda said. She was shaken, desperately hiding it for the sake of her tough-girl demeanor. "We were at the boarding house when he started yelling, fighting the air...nothing was there, he just kept yelling..." She shook her dark head.

Rogue and Jean helped her to stand. Under the Professor's orders they took her to one of the guest bedrooms. He watched them go before ushering the others to return to their previous activities. Remy stayed at his side, running a hand along his forehead bandage.

"Dese be scary times, mon ami," he murmured. "'S worse, since dey know the victim dis time."

The Professor nodded, deep in contemplation. "We must find out why you were immune to complete absorption, Remy. Perhaps there is something we are overlooking..."

"Hope we find out soon," Remy said, eyeing the forlorn expressions of the students. His gaze snapped then to Rogue, helping a shaken witch up the stairs. "Dis place, your X-Men, may be next."

-----------------------------------------------------

Scared yet? Read this at night and get some chills. I sure did when I was writing it.

Hope the exchanges b/w Rogue and Remy didn't seem too overdone or cliche or lame. Tried to go for the what-people-might-actually-say kind of feel. Always with the realism!

Next Chapter (just to make you guys nervous): Fallen X-Man

God, I hate how I can't use asterisks. What's wrong with them??