Hiya! This chapter is a weensy bit shorter because it was originally part of the chapter 7 and that was just way too long. So's I cut off and added some stuff and here we are! Read and review! Or else I cry all over my computer and it'll short out and there'll be no more updates for a long while!

We've Met Before

Chapter 8

The cross was a strange color: too dark to be silver, too light to be black, and too shiny to be gray. Remy turned it over in his hands, examining the thin chain that led away from its back, testing its weight, considering its worth. If he wanted to sell it, a buyer wouldn't be hard to find; the cross seemed expensive, and had an attractive, slightly off-kilter quality that people always loved. But for once, he'd stolen something with absolutely no intention of peddling it.

It made him a little proud inside.

Not that it any way excused the fact that he'd stolen it from Rogue.

Twisting the necklace around his fingers, Remy sighed, recalling the way it had flickered in the warm sunlight while pressed against her pearl skin. His eyes had been drawn to it almost immediately, and like a bee frequenting a flower, they'd darted back whenever the chance presented itself. He wished he'd have asked if it was important to her, but he hadn't.

He hoped now that it wasn't.

Somehow, stealing a priceless family heirloom from a girl the same day he rediscovered his love for her didn't strike him as the best way to start off a relationship that –with his old friend, luck- would be long lasting.

Remy finally placed it down on his desk, reaching into a bottom drawer for the set of tools he would need to complete his project. Again, a useless wish ran through his mind, brief, but sincere: that he had something less lovely to work with. He considered himself an artist, like any in his trade would, but he hated to break open the cross, even for a little while.

It didn't help much that the shape was a cross. Visions of stern nuns standing over him, batting at his fingers with rulers like children at an arcade game, came to mind. 'Well Remy LeBeau, you've committed so many sins already', he thought he heard them saying, 'this new step hardly comes as a surprise'.

He took out a thin, long razor, careful to not touch the impossibly sharp blade to his skin. Leaning forward, he split the necklace into two pieces. One, he dropped down into the bottom drawer, sending the razor back down with it. The other...

"Knock, knock."

Upon hearing the voice, Remy passed a hand over his work, and when he moved it, the objects were gone. He adjusted his chair to greet the guest in his room. "Bonjour, Bella. Settled so soon?"

"Wit' no help from you," She shrugged, stepping towards his bed and sitting down, as if she'd been invited. She dropped her chin down into her palm. "What you workin' on?"

"Work."

She gave him a smile, but rolled her eyes. "How vague." When he didn't respond, Belladonna went on. "It's a nice place here. So many modern comforts, non? Now, personally, I'm an old-fashioned kind o' girl, an' I prefer luxury over technology, but it ain't half bad here. I guess dat's why y' didn't miss us so very much when y' left."

"I missed y' enough. 'Till I got over it." Remy always kept a small bottle of bourbon in the farthest corner of his desk, but he reached for it now, popping up the lid and swallowing some of the luke-warm liquid. He tossed it at the blonde on his bed, and she caught it easily. "There a reason y' here?"

He watched as she pushed the glass container to her bright red lips. When she was done, she sighed, dropping her back onto the mattress. Golden hair trailed down off the side, though she lifted one lock in her hands, twirling it around like a ribbon. "I don't know. It's hard t' be in da same house yo' in, an' not visit. M' bed isn't as comfortable," she added.

Remy laughed. "Mais, y' not stayin' in my room."

At this, she raised her head and stared at him with wide, falsely innocent eyes. "What's wrong, Beb? Y' don't t'ink anythin' would actually happen?"

She was, he thought, an incorrigible flirt; but then, it was an aspect of her personality he'd encouraged once upon a time. "I don't t'ink so," he said, firmly.

But not firmly enough. "Y' don't t'ink so?" She giggled, and he recognized the change in her voice: the naïve novice was gone, replaced by the ruthless seductress. She laid her head back down and sighed, dramatically. "Y' mean there's a chance somet'in' will."

"There's also a chance da world might end in da next thirty seconds, but dat don't mean it's gonna happen."

"But it might."

Remy shrugged. "I've never seen you so desperate, Chere; You da same girl who made me buy a hundred roses 'fore you'd forgive me for sayin' I might wanna take y' to da county fair?" As he said it, he couldn't resist smiling, as he recalled the absurdity of the situation. He remembered how hard it had been to carry all those roses at once.

"I don't know. Are you da same boy who bought 'em?"

"No."

"But that boy is still in y' somewhere." She pointed out. "An' I'll bet he's still willin' t' move the universe fo' me."

"It figures you'd say dat." Remy answered back. "Y' always were a terrible gambler."

"Say what y' will. It don't change da fact dat you afraid o' bein' in close proximity wit' me, does it?" She looked at him, grinning widely. Wickedly, and he knew the next words out of her mouth wouldn't be good ones. She pressed her face against his pillow –leaving the smell of her perfume- and said, "I wonder, love, y' ever tell dis Rogue girl we used t' sleep t'gether?"


"Becky's a nice girl." Rogue said, as the plane ascended and then vanished over the horizon, leaving the two Southerners alone in the warm field.

"She is," Gambit agreed. "But whatever she tol' you 'bout me is a dirty, rotten lie."

"Well, she said ya were nice, decent, an' good-lookin'. So yeah, Ah got that she couldn't be trusted."

They exchanged sly smiles, and then Rogue glanced down. For the first time, she realized that she hadn't exactly dressed for the occasion, or any occasion that didn't involve lounging around at home and picking some of Kitty's chores. She wore loose fitting flannel pajama pants and a tank top, her gloves, and an old black sweater that was quickly becoming weather-inappropriate, given the obstinate sunshine. How had that happened? She'd just jumped on a plane the second someone mentioned Remy's name? 'Hey, let's go see Remy'. 'Okay, sure, and let's not bother putting on a pair of jeans, either'. Sometimes, she had moments of pure brilliance.

Was that even safe, spending time with a guy who made her forget like that? He could just cloud over her mind at any time. Hell, he didn't even need his charm. Just that damn smug grin and those sleepy, black eyes.

"What are y' frownin' over?" Remy asked. He put his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them. "All our time spent apart is beginnin' ta wear ya out, non? It's hard, I know, but I can't be by you every second, ever."

"Stop touching me." She said, shaking herself free. "An' don't be so vain. Maybe Ah was thinkin' about...cars."

"Cars?" He said, with a laugh.

"O' blue birds."

"Uh huh."

"O' Money," she said. "Maybe Ah saw the wheat, thought o' bread, an' was contemplatin' my stocks in sandwiches."

"Reachin' kind o' far in search o' good excuses, are we?" Remy said, wryly.

"Why don't ya shut up an' leave me alone. An' stop starin' at me like that." It was unnerving, his calm, easy gaze that followed her so carefully.

"Aw, Chere, no more deep will I endart mine eye than yo' consent gives strength t' make it fly." Remy winked at her, as he started walking towards a small clearing in the field. Once there, he sat and gestured for her to do the same. "T'ink da plane scared some o' da fish. We should give 'em a chance t' calm down."

Rogue allowed herself to be drawn to the ground. As she did so, she cocked her head to the side and said, "Were y'all just speakin' Shakespeare?"

Remy made a show of pretending to think about it, as he drew his chin to his palm and chewed on his bottom lip. "Umm."

"Ugh," Rogue rolled her eyes. "You are such a ham."

"An' I suppose you just wanna eat me up, don't y'." He teased.

"More like go vegetarian."

"Talk is cheap, Chere, an' it can't hide da look in y' eyes. One o' these days, yo' true feelin's are gonna come through. You'll start wit' some insult like, 'Remy LeBeau, if I had a choice 'tween marryin' you an' an escaped convict who killin' people by shovin' a toothpick in their eye while wearin' a giant chicken costume, I pick da convict every time'. But what you'll end up sayin' is, 'Remy, I'd pick you even if y' were da chicken killer, 'cause y' such an amazin' sex god."

Rogue laughed. "Oh really?"

"Really," he confirmed for her. "Y' can't fight fate, neh?"

"Can ya fight bad imaginary proposals?"

"What would be a good one?"

Rogue sighed. Marriage was a distant thought, somewhere near running for president and being the first woman on the planet Jupiter. What kind of proposal would satisfy her? Something romantic, exciting, funny...just, something, she supposed, and someone who cared about her. "Ah don't know. One where there's candlelight, music, privacy, sincerity-"

"My suggestion could've had all dat."

"-An' no mention o' psychotic killers."

Remy shrugged. "Can't have it all."

"Ah will when Ah find m' dream man." Rogue said, as she glanced away, baiting him.

"An' what will he be like?"

"Perfection." She answered quickly.

"Will he have good hair?"

"Yes. He'll have long, uh..." Rogue thought, what was something un-Remy? "Light hair."

"White?" He said, as if he couldn't hear right. The twinkle in his eyes suggested otherwise.

"Light. It'll be like, uh, silver. Shiny, shimmering silver."

Remy wrinkled his nose. "Sounds like Pietro."

It did sound like Pietro. Rogue groaned at herself for having not considered that. Did she want someone like Pietro? Not unless 'want' really meant 'loathe'. But maybe she could sell Remy on the idea. He'd been almost jealous before, when she'd accidentally mentioned her brief, foolish –definitely foolish- infatuation with Scott.

Could she make him jealous again? Rogue grinned, innocently. "That's right. Maybe Ah should take a closer look at Maximoff an' re-evaluate him."

"Or I could just kill him an' save us all a little time." He reached out for her, and took one of her gloved hands between his, feeling the fabric, eventually pulling it up to his lips and brushing a kiss against it. "I don't wanna talk about Pietro no more," he whined. That wasn't exactly a jealous reaction... but Rogue didn't exactly care.

He'd caught her off guard again, with his careful caress of her hand. How did he do that? One minute she was perfectly capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation and the next, she was fighting back the blush and trying to speak in coherent terms.

Damn him.

Damn the Cajun.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"Whatever," Rogue sighed. "Just gimme back my hand an' we'll move on ta better subjects."

"Give y' back yo' hand?" Remy asked. "Good pilgrim, y' do wrong y' hand too much. For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, an' palm t' palm is holy palmers' kiss." He pulled her hand towards him again, this time brushing a kiss against her knuckles.

She flushed.

If he did that again, he might be winning the bet after all.

She shook off that sentiment. Think, Rogue, think of something else. She narrowed her eyes. "Ah knew it! That was Shakespeare! Where did a lowdown, sneaky, thievin' snake-charmer like you learn that?"

"Chere, da words o' love were born on' m' tongue same day as I was conceived."

"Uh huh," she said. Finally freed of his hands, she scooted farther away, taking the opportunity to remove the sweater, which was, by this time, much too warm. She shook her hands free and reached down to straighten her necklace.

It had been a gift from Kitty Pryde, one of those rare times when their tastes in fashion had been the same. They'd been on a vacation in Brazil, and one of the local merchants had convinced them to consider his goods. He'd opened a small wooden box, it's plain brown surface a startling contradiction to the resplendent jewelry inside. They'd each bought something. Rogue had chosen the cross. Kitty had opted for a pair of earrings made of the same stone.

That was her favorite necklace.

She thought of Kitty, and suddenly remembered why she'd hadn't been so happy before she'd seen Remy...


She never should have worn it. She should've kept in her drawer, where it would have been nice and safe. But she'd been foolish, and now the necklace was lost. Rogue turned over her mattress and peered beneath it, hoping it had fallen off while she slept. No luck. Big surprise there.

It was probably floating at the bottom of that weird river.

It was all Remy's fault.

If she weren't so set on seeing him again soon, she would've vowed to not speak to him for a least a while.

Suddenly, there was a poof of black smoke as Kurt appeared in her room, a large cardboard box in his hands. "Good," he said, seeing her. "You're awake."

"Couldn't sleep. Ah lost something."

"Sorry." He dropped his burden on the edge of her desk and clapped his hands together, glancing around the room. "Ze professor said Kitty might benefit if some of her stuff vas in ze infirmary with her. Do you know which stuff might be most meaningful? Like ze teddy bear...?"

"Umm," Rogue shook her head. "Naw. Mr. Blue is her moping bear. She only finds him when she wants ta brood."

"Oh."

"Take her copy o' Emily Dickinson poems over there on th' table. She's always readin' 'em. But be careful, she keep these dried herbs in there an' swears they're irreplaceable."

Kurt picked up the item Rogue had suggested. "She's kind of a strange girl, isn't she?"

"Like you should talk," she said. "Who around here is blue, fuzzy, an' always smells like sulfur?"

"I do not!"

"Ah'm sorry, Ah can't hear ya over the sound o' denial."


When Remy returned to the house in the morning, after a night of being... away, he found Bella in his room again. He'd promised himself he wouldn't bring up the subject of their conversation. He wouldn't care. But the instant he saw her, sitting so quietly at his desk, drawing patterns on the table with a black marker, tolerance drained away from him, like water through a sieve. His eyes turned cold. "Who's been tellin' you 'bout Rogue?"

"Pietro." She said, not turning to look at him.

Pietro. The idiot. Who else? If he could, Remy thought, he'd blast the little worm into pieces. "Why y' talkin' t' him, anyway?"

Bella smiled again, as she glanced over her shoulder. "Jealous?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Hardly. I just don't like him interferin' wit' my life."

"An' dat includes me."

"Don't feel special," Remy sighed, "It includes m' dirty laundry, too."

"Whatever you say, Remy love."

"Don't call me dat, Bella."

"What's so special about da girl, anyway? I've looked up her file," she lifted a set of papers over her head, and Remy saw that one of them was a picture of the x-girl. "She's not hideously ugly, but she can't touch at all. How could you, Remy LeBeau, want someone like her? Although, I gotta admit, ya get stars f' da Romeo an' Juliet aspect. Star-crossed lovers: One, Mr. Touchy-feely himself. Da other, Ms. Tactile Defensive."

"Gee, t'anks."

"But we had it, too, non? I mean, we are from separate sides o' da Guild world. I'm an assassin and you da Prince o' Thieves. I'd say, so far me an' da new girl are equal." The girl set the papers down and stood up, allowing her skirt to fall in all the right ways. There was a wrinkle in her blouse, and Remy almost moved to smother it away. But in the end, he didn't.

And he supposed that's how things were with Bella now. They were distorted. Wrinkled. He knew he should've put some effort into fixing the problem, and sometimes, he thought he wanted to. But when it all came down to the line, he just didn't. He left it there. And so they'd never travel any further down that broken road.

"You should leave now," he advised her.

"I will." She moved past him, and she was almost gone when he stopped her.

"You ain't gonna talk t' nobody 'bout me an' Rogue, are y?" He was thinking of Magneto. They both knew it.

"An' stifle m' competition?" Bella said. "Let's make a deal, we two. I won't tell Eric 'bout Rogue if y' don't tell Rogue 'bout me."


Seven Minutes Later...

Remy was finished with the cross. Inside, he'd neatly installed a recorder. It was simply amazing how tiny machines had gotten. If it was returned to Rogue in such a state, and if she returned to the mansion with it wrapped around her neck, he could hear all sorts of conversations. Battle plans, gossip, anything and everything she or her teammates said. It was so perfect, he couldn't imagine why none of the other Acolytes or Brotherhood members thought of it before him. But then, they didn't do much thinking at all. They just acted when instructed to.

What a hell that life, that job, sounded like. To be so restrained...Remy had served more than a few hours of his life as somebody's go-to man, but he'd never been just that. Just a fistful of tossed, charged cards. Just a servant acting whenever the master commanded it. He didn't have it in his soul to be slave.

For that reason, he wasn't going to return the necklace back to Rogue with the microphone in it. He'd show the jewelry off to Piotr, convince the boy that he was as loyal an Acolyte as money could buy. And then, when everybody was happy, he'd restore the necklace back to it's original state and sneak it onto Rogue's person. If she noticed, he'd say that it found it and wanted to return it.

That was half true, at least.

He wrapped the pretty necklace around his finger again and held it up to the lights.

Things would be a lot harder if he wasn't such a good liar.


General Notes: Is it just me or am I ending far too many chapters will Evil Blondes? Hmm. If you a blonde, and are reading my stories, ummmm... sorry? Maybe I'll toss an evil brunette in there somewhere, too. Or, have Bella dye her hair a strange color. Any suggestions? ;)

Notes of the Individual Sort:

Totally Obsessed47: I think you gave me the fastest review I've like, ever gotten. It came before I'd even had a chance to make sure I'd posted it right! Wow. Maybe there's a little Pietro in you. :) Thanks so much!

EmeraldKatsEye: This was a happy chapter, wasn't it? I mean, it was happier. Okay, that's a lie. It's probably equal in happy/unhappiness. And it's all your fault. Don't ask me how. Just know that it's all your fault. Thanks! Oh, and check the genre!

Star-Of-Chaos: For some reason, when you say 'Bella using Remy's head as a knife-throwing target' it sounds funnier than when I say it. Although, you can imagine, if you don't get to keep Remy and his pretty face, would you want anyone else getting it?

Dreamschemer: Maybe if we hide the champagne in the cider and then keep breath mints nearby, so if a cop comes by we can toss the bottles, cram the Altoids down our throats, and no one will be the wiser! Bwa ha ha!

Ishandahalf: I'm a silly person. The first time I read your comment about Thanksgiving, I was like, is it November already? Darn it, I missed Halloween! But then Kat explained, and I feel much more enlightened now. Thanksgiving is such a nice holiday; I think I'm going to start celebrating it twice a year. Once in Canada, and once in that other place (my home). Oh, and do you really think that I'd say something just to confuse you?! Don't you know me at all? weeps

Sweety8587: Well, Bella's keeping her silence from Magneto, but her silence comes at a price! And yeah, she may try to stir up trouble between Rogue and Remy. I think she and Rogue should have it out in a huge, violent fight. There just aren't enough fics where Roguey get's to beat up on Bella. But then, she might not get that chance in this fic, either.

Ashley: Er, I listen sometimes to country. Sometimes. Dependent on many things, my watching of country music is. But you know what I always like? Awesome reviewers like you! So come again!

Tsugath: You too!

Gaea3: I gasp in shock. Kill off Bella? Didn't you know that this was a Bella/Remy fic? With some touches of Pietro/Rogue.... Agh! Just writing that pained my hands. Must seek...out...medical...assistance...

Melphis: Come on, Bella might not be the worst of their problems. I mean, sure, she's his ex-fiance whose bent on recapturing his love and has now gotten him to not tell Rogue about her being there but...oh wait, she probably is their biggest problem. Hmm. Thanks!

XpoisonedxangelX: Doesn't everyone love Pietro as much as they adore Bella? Or is that just me? laughs I told you, no secret guessing!

Breathless: Why, thank you! Do review again!

Goddess Evie: Ah, you're another crazy English teacher to be. Hey, it would probably be best if, while teaching, you didn't opt to sit under desks and chew the tail of a plastic rat. I don't care how popular that is among E. Teachers. Or was it just my teacher who did that? Good with sniper rifles, are you? How much do you charge, per assassination? Just out of curiosity, of course. :)

AnalisDestiny: Why thank you, ever so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! Thanks!

This is s e x: You've got the best name to finish these individual reviews off with! Oh, btw, I followed your favorites list to The Dark King, which is way good, so thanks for that! Come back and review again!

Questions? Comments? Coconuts? My yahoo ID is Eileenblzr, so you can always find me there.