Sorry! No review replies. Time crunch. Wanted to get this up before the week progressed too much. Promise to catch you all next time.

Darkness fell upon the world again; another day came to a close. As the searing brightness of the sun was pushed away, Remy felt his head clear a bit. He could always think better when it was dark. He figured it was because he lived so much of his life in the shadows, in the literal and symbolic sense. Night was his cover while the day only threatened to expose his less-than-righteous deeds. But tonight was different. He wasn't stealing, plotting, or engaging in various forms of decadence. The night had nothing to hide.

Seeing Theodore Farrat was supposed to offer some clarity to the present crisis. But all that was accomplished was achieving a whole new level of confusion. Annabel was a ghost--she was a girl. Annabel was pained--she was happy. What was really happening?

Remy did not want to think about it anymore. He was beginning to believe everything was out of his hands. Maybe he couldn't help the girl like he'd wanted to. Maybe there was nobody to help. That had seemed obvious when she walked into the room so cheerfully, offered him dinner so politely. But what about his dreams, her pain? He felt some of it still, the anger, the sadness, the feeling of being hopelessly trapped. Surely those things were real.

'Nough fo' one night, he decided. Had more crap dan I can deal wit'.

The gate to the Xavier Institute was still blown apart. In times like these, Remy wondered how long it would take for someone to fix it. He rode right through and returned Wolverine's motorcycle to its place in the garage. Afterwards he walked back out to the front of the mansion where Magneto's van was still parked. He stopped in front of it and looked up at the looming Institute. What now?

Y'know what. He sighed. Things were always much easier said than done. Maybe it was time to clear the air, to just come out with what he wanted to say. Trouble was, he wasn't quite sure what it was he wanted to say, what he was thinking, feeling. He ran a hand through his hair and began pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth.

She was home, no doubt about that. Remy wondered what she was doing, how she was fairing through everything. A strange warmth rose in his chest as he thought of her. The feeling was foreign and unbidden. He wanted to smile as he pictured her green eyes, the white stripes in her hair. Suddenly he pushed the images out of his mind, shaking his head. She was untouchable. He would never know the pleasure of kissing those lips, of caressing that flawless skin... That knowledge was more disheartening than he'd ever wish to admit. But perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps the issue was with him and not the malign skin.

None of these troubled contemplations were characteristic of Remy LeBeau. He was not supposed to give so much thought to women. He was not supposed to be haunted by a mere fille. He was not supposed to care.

Remy looked back up at the mansion.

Truth--it was so hard to accept. Especially when it was about himself.

"From childhood's hour Ah have not been, as others were; Ah have not seen..."

It was dark and cold but Rogue did not care. She was only reminded of just how messed up everything was. Despite all the harrowing events the weather still seemed to mock her with its chilling summer nights. What had chased away the warmth?

"As others saw; Ah could not bring, my passions from a common spring..."

She was alone at the gazebo, sitting on the bench with her knees curled up to her chest. She recited the verses quietly, sadly: "From the source Ah have not taken, my sorrow; Ah could not awaken, my heart to joy at the same tone; and all Ah loved, Ah loved alone..."

Jean was losing herself. She was becoming more and more trapped in lament.

"Then in my childhood, in the dawn, of a most stormy life was drawn..."

Rogue did not know how to help her; Jean was all she had left. If she lost her... It was heavily ironic. Jean was her least favorite person, the girl who was everything Rogue was not. She had hated the redhead though she knew it was without precedent--Jean had only ever been kind and eager to help, demonstrating a solid strength close to that of Ororo's. But the calm was fading, the strength now a horribly delicate sliver.

"From every depth of good and ill, the mystery which binds me still..."

Rogue could not figure everything out by herself. She was no where near smart enough, brave enough, strong enough. How could everyone leave her like this?

"From the torrent, or the fountain, from the red cliff of the mountain...From the sun that round me rolled, in its autumn tint of gold..."

If only the darkness did not feel so near. If only she could see hope in a bright new day. If only she was not so abandoned...

"From the lightning in the sky, as it passed me flying by..."

The tears came. She tried to hold them back. The Rogue never cried. Finally she let them fall and lifted her head to gaze at the dark horizon. A full moon was out, its silver rays washing over her. She felt weak and vulnerable. She felt utterly alone. Despite how much she hated it, despite how much she didn't want to--she wished Remy was there. Remy, who was always so lighthearted; Remy, who seemed so understanding; Remy, who was kind and comforting...who had left. She choked back a sob and finished the poem.

"From the thunder and the storm, and the cloud that took the form...When the rest of Heaven was blue, of a demon in my view."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, felt fingers trailing through her hair. She looked up slowly. The eyes were black as the night, the glowing irises like impassioned fire. She drew in a shaky breath, unsure of how to react. She didn't have to.

Remy sat down beside her, pulling the folds of his trench coat around her frozen form. She felt his arm encircle her shoulders, urging her to share the warmth. She did not protest, did not pull away. As she rested her head on his chest he wrapped both arms around her and chased away the cold. She snuggled up against him as they shared the coat, feeling more tears well in her eyes, though they were not from grief.

"Don' cry, chere," he murmured against her hair.

Rogue felt herself becalming. The hopeless dread faded to a sense of pellucid solace. She sighed and pulled closer to him, nuzzling herself in his warmth, the unwavering comfort only he could give.

Remy held her firmly, resting his chin on her head. Something had clicked when he saw her cry, heard her whispering those melancholy verses. He had stood in the darkness, watching her in distressed awe. She seemed so alone and vulnerable--nothing like the bad-attitude stubborness he was used to. It made him want to hold her, make her pains go away. He wished for her to smile again, longed to hear her pretty laughter. Would they ever again know such merriment? Remy couldn't see it happening. Their friends were taken and he no longer knew what the source was. How could they save everyone, save themselves? There had never been such a hopeless time...

He hugged her closer. Nothing else mattered now. He was content in remaining there--forget the rest of the world. What did it ever do for him anyway? It never gave him this feeling, never soothed him so. "M'sorry I left," he murmured.

Rogue stirred in acknowledgment of his words, but remained silent.

"Didn't mean t'go like dat," Remy continued. He spoke so quietly, afraid if the rest of the world heard, the meaning in his words would be shattered to nothing. "I didn't want t'make y'think..." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, becoming frustrated with himself. The one time it made a difference, the one time he really cared what happened--and he couldn't find the words. "Y'were wrong 'bout me, chere."

Rogue slowly tilted her head back to gaze at him. Remnants of tears glossed her eyes, made the green depths scintillate under the moonlight. She looked at him with a vehement yearning.

Remy swallowed a lump in his throat, "Y'said I didn't care. Dat's far from de truth."

She pressed her face against his uniform.

"S'a lil' scary," he whispered. Was she still listening? "Don' know what t't'ink 'bout all dis...Never happened t'me before." He felt her pull closer to him and smiled, received the much-needed push to keep going. "I care, Rogue. I care a lot.... An', uh, now I don' know what t'do...." She sighed shakily against him. "Chere? Say somet'ing?"

Rogue only wanted to bask in this feeling. His words delighted her beyond explanation. She discarded all her previous anger. The only thing that mattered was that he had come back and he was making her feel like everything would be all right. Maybe she had some hope after all. This wasn't just for the girls who could touch, perfect angels like Jean or sweet innocents like Kitty. She, Rogue, could have this too. She sighed contentedly, thinking it was too good to be true.

Too good. Too perfect.

Hope she had now. Hope in Remy LeBeau. She suddenly remembered who he was, what he was.

It was too good to be true. Too perfect, too wonderful for her.

She struggled against his hold, pushing him away. He seemed surprised as she pulled out of his arms and stood up, hands clenched. She bit her lip, shaking her head. Too good to be true. Too wonderful to be real.

"Rogue? What's wrong?"

Like he didn't know. "Everything!" she exclaimed in a hiss. She was getting angry again. It was always easier to be angry, far more favorable than pathetic despair.

Remy stood up but stayed where he was. He looked at her questioningly.

"This isn't real...Ah'm not...." Rogue tried to make her thoughts comprehensible. The psyches in her mind reeled from her confusion. She massaged her temples.

"Dis is real, chere," Remy insisted.

Rogue shook her head slowly, taking a deep breath. "God, Remy, look at this, look at who we are. Ah'm this...and you're...you're..." She didn't really believe it, didn't want to think everything here was false. She was never more confused. Why had he said those beautiful, wonderful things? What did he want from her?

Nothing Ah can ever give.

"I'm what," he asked tonelessly, not meeting her gaze.

Rogue shook her head, biting back tears. She hated crying; it was a sign of weakness. She was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be tough and unaffected. "Ah am tired of bein' played and used and..." She released a shaky breath, "Ah do not want to be fooled again, Remy--Ah'm sick of being lied to." Thoughts of Scott and Risty and Apocalypse flooded her mind, unwanted feelings resurfacing and painful. Would it ever end? Would she ever find something constant and real?

Remy didn't say anything for the longest time and she began to think he was angry. He kept his gaze focused on the wooden floorboards of the gazebo. Then he looked up and the emotion in his crimson-ebony eyes was startling, "I wouldn't lie t'de girl I've fallen for."

Rogue blinked, the words not registering correctly in her mind. Even the psyches came to a frozen silence. When Remy wrapped his arms around her, she let him. She fell into his comforting embrace and closed her eyes, breathing him in. Wonderful. Beautiful. Her stomach fluttered as he ran his fingers soothingly through her hair, down the small of her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

They stood that way for a long while, content never to move. Of all the girls in the world that would fall before him in an instant, he wanted her, the untouchable one. Nothing had ever seemed so amazing, so incredible.

Rogue craned her neck back to look at Remy. She loved his eyes, the way they smouldered and told her everything she needed to know. A small smile graced his lips and she realized he was leaning towards her. She watched him in wonder until realization struck her hard, like a slap in the face. She turned away as he kissed the crown of her hair. Rogue bit her lip to keep from gasping. He could never have that part of her, and he would want it, need it. No matter how much she wanted to give it to him, she would never be able to.

"This isn't gonna work, Remy," she murmured sadly.

He frowned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Why y'say dat, chere?"

"Ya can't touch me."

"I know."

Rogue shook her head, "No, ya don't. You think it won't matter but it will, it does. You'll get tired of this and--and it won't work."

"Maybe dere's more t'us dan touch, Rogue."

She knew that, could feel it whenever he was near. But reality was not so understanding.

"Jus' trust me, chere," Remy said. His voice was low. So soft, so assuring. "It'll be all right. We'll figure somet'ing out."

Rogue wanted to believe him. Desperately. "It'll only get worse," she said hoarsely. "And when it ends Ah don't think Ah'll be able to handle it..."

"Y'won't have to. Dis doesn't have t'end--"

"You're wrong. Ya don't know what you're getting yourself into. Maybe for now, in the beginning it seems okay, but later...later you'll realize it isn't and you'll go away."

Remy shook his head, frowning at her stubbornly.

Rogue stared at him, wishing he would object more strongly, convince her somehow that her thoughts were wrong. But she knew she would only be setting herself up for a greater heartache. This had to end, before it grew too intense, too real. Quickly, before he had time to react, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his ever so wistfully. It was just long enough.

He stumbled slightly and fell against her. He buried his face in her shoulder, panting from the absorption.

"Not a great feeling...is it?" she asked brokenly.

Remy struggled to get his thoughts together. He clutched her close, realizing what she had just done to him. "Rogue..."

She gently drew away from his arms, "It's better this way." She didn't sound so convinced. "It's easier on both of us." She turned and walked away from the gazebo before he could see her cry. The emotions she had absorbed from him were almost enough to make her go back. She clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle any sobs.

But, no, it had to end now. Before they got in too deep. She quickened her pace until she reached the woods. Looking back, she saw him sitting at the gazebo, rubbing his head as though confused. His eyes glowed in the darkness, accentuating the haunted expression on his handsome face. Rogue turned away quickly and disappeared into the shadows.

--Sob--Trust me, I know.