Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel.

A/N: Sniff, sniff. We're anticipating that there won't be many more chapters left to this story. That means, yes, MnM is gonna be over pretty soon! Boo hoo!

-xOx-

Mix 'n' Match

(20) Crazy Thing Called Love

Remy arrived in Caldecott County early the next morning with nothing but his wallet, the clothes on his back, and the vain hope that by the time he was heading back to New York again, Anna Raven would be by his side.

Of course, by now he wished he'd had the foresight to bring a proper change of clothes, his cologne, and at least a razor, because his five O'clock shadow was really starting to look bedraggled rather than ruggedly sexy. And he knew that was definitely no way to go and charm a lady.

Still, he freshened up as much as he was able to at the airport before taking a ride to Rogue's hometown. Dodson was a picturesque community cradled by the muddy banks of the Mississippi, the kind of place that gave real meaning to the phrase moonlight and magnolias. The more he saw it, the more he was reminded of his own family home back in New Orleans, the place where he'd left so many memories behind – both good and bad – and hadn't returned to since his heart had been broken.

He looked out the cab window pensively, watching the cars and the people streaming past. Suddenly, it wasn't so hard to admit. His heart had been broken. And since then, he hadn't wanted another woman to touch it for fear it'd break again. It was ironic that for the first time in years, he was willing to take a chance on someone. He was willing to take a chance on Rogue, even if she threw the offer back in his face and broke his heart all over again. He wanted her that much.

He got out at the local modern convenience store and paid the cab. The next couple of hours he spent looking for Rogue the hard way – asking people if they knew her, or where he could possibly find her. The early afternoon found him exhausted and hungry and no closer to finding his wayward Mississippi river-rat. He'd be darned before he was going to give up on finding her, but it was no use wandering round on an empty stomach, so he stopped by at the nearest cafe for some grits and coffee.

The waitress was a pretty young blonde who was obviously pleased at his attentions and gave him plenty of coy smiles and an extra cup of coffee on the house. Remy smoked a cigarette in peace, enjoying the sunshine and thinking how useful his good looks and innate charm had turned out to be. Not dat it ever did me any good wit' Anna…

He sighed and sipped his coffee, thinking how both frustrating and amusing it was that the tables had been turned on him. Usually he was the one giving the ladies the run-around; back in the day he and his friends had laughed and joked about it, even made bets and gambled on it. They'd begged him to divulge his secrets, just how it was that he managed to score so easily with any girl he chose. He'd always laughed and shrugged and said it was nothing more or less than his legendary mojo.

And then, to his surprise, he'd been tamed. For the first time in his life, he'd known what it was to truly love someone. In later years, after it had all fallen apart and she'd left him, he'd scolded himself, believing she'd made him stupid and soft and that he'd allowed her to beat him at his own game. He was left feeling bitter and resentful. For a while, women were the enemy. When he'd made his way to New York looking for a new life, he'd found an almost endless supply of women to seduce and make him feel in control of his life and his emotions again. Even finding something worthwhile at L&L hadn't stopped him. In fact, it'd become easier. He'd treated women like dirt and they'd lapped it up. But not one of them had made him happy the way she once had.

Then, like a miracle, like fate, there she was – Anna Raven, gaping at him open-mouthed as he'd walked into that interview room what now felt like a lifetime ago. He'd basked in the typical reaction he got from women, allowing his gaze to run over her in a similar fashion, pleasantly surprised by the vision before him. And what a vision it had been. Scarlett O'Hara green eyes, cherry red lips just begging to be kissed, a shapely and voluptuous figure he longed to map out with both hands and mouth. She was wild and untamed, a brassy Southern bombshell whose innate sexiness came almost unconsciously to her and whose obvious disdain for him had made him want her all the more. The challenge had been too irresistible to be ignored. Time and again she'd brushed him off, giving him back as good as she got. It had made their flirtation, their kisses all the sweeter.

And then there was that night, that one wonderful, sexy and passionate night, one he could scarcely bring himself to believe had happened it had been so incredible…

And now he was hooked and he didn't want to give her up.

He wanted to walk her through these streets and visit all the places she'd ever known; he wanted to stroll down by the river with her on his arm and laugh and dance and kiss in the moonlight; he wanted to wake up every morning to find her still lying there beside him, those gorgeous green eyes gazing into his, letting him heal the hole in his heart he'd been neglecting for so long.

But she was already taken and now that he knew just how special she was it didn't surprise him at all.

He was in exactly the same position he'd put so many women in before, and it hurt.

"Heya handsome."

The blonde waitress was standing beside him with a pad in her hand, her lilting southern accent breaking him from his reverie. "Can Ah getcha somethin' else?"

He looked up and smiled at her, noticing how she flushed prettily in return.

"No t'anks. If I drink anymore coffee, I'll be bouncin' off walls."

"Then how about somethin' else? We have some freshly baked apple pie just taken outta the oven…"

"No, really," he insisted. "M'fine. Got m'self a pretty girl right here t' look at, don't t'ink a man could be needin' anyt'ing more."

She giggled and smiled and blushed in a manner he found rather appealing, and maybe under other circumstances he would've taken things a little further with her, if his mind wasn't firmly set on someone else.

"Ah ain't seen yah round here before, stranger," she began shyly. "And Ah'd know that accent anywhere. You're Cajun, right?"

"Nothin' but," he grinned that devastating smile that managed to floor the girls every time. "Remy's de name. I'm just passin' through this town. Came here from New York dis mornin'."

"New York?" The girl's eyes lit up. "Wow. Sounds like you've been places. Me, Ah've lived here all mah life, and it's nothin' but borin'. Ah wish Ah could go t' New York. Then Ah'd set mahself up with a whole new life, a whole new career…instead of bein' stuck in this here cafe, day in, day out!" She paused and flushed. "But here Ah am, blabbin' on again like always. What brings you through Caldecott County anyways, if'n yah don't mind me askin', Remy?"

"Actually," he replied, "I'm here lookin' for someone. And since you've been livin' all your pretty li'l life in dese here parts, chere, mebbe you could tell me where I could find dis person."

"Of course!" she returned, her big blue eyes earnest. "If'n Ah can be any help t' yah, that is."

"M' sure you can, chere," he answered. "See, I'm lookin' for dis femme – she's 'bout five foot eight, slim, wit' a white streak in brown hair…"

"You mean Anna-Marie Raven?" the girl interrupted before he could finish.

Anna-Marie…?

"Dat's de femme," Remy nodded eagerly. "You know her?"

"Everyone knows Anna-Marie," the girl answered, looking a little uncomfortable, which he was too distracted to notice. "B'sides she's one of those gals yah just can't miss…with that white streak in her hair an' all."

Not to mention de fact dat she's de most beautiful femme dis womanizin' Cajun's ever met…

"Could you tell me where she is?" he asked, his impatience getting the better of him now that he was closer than ever to finding her.

The girl thought a second. "Well, she left Caldecott nigh on four years ago. But if she's come back then she'll be stayin' with her foster mother, Irene Adler." She paused, and pointed up at a big, colonial style house, situated on a pleasant-looking hill not far away. "She lives up there."

Remy followed her hand with sudden hope welling inside him. Without another word he took some change out of his pocket and slapped it on the table alongside the bill.

"My t'anks, cherie," he said, standing up and facing the startled waitress. "And an extra tip in return for your oh-so-generous help." And before the girl could say anything more he had leaned over and planted a lingering kiss on her lips, leaving her blushing even more violently than before – and with a memory she wouldn't soon forget.

-oOo-

It was a gathering of three women, life-long friends with one of their number conspicuously missing.

They'd gathered in Emma's mansion to have one last proper fitting before Jean's wedding. It should've been a day of laughter and suggestive jokes. But with Rogue gone from their midst there was a distinct feeling that something irreplaceable was missing, and neither of the three women particularly wanted to elaborate on the reasons why their feisty Southern friend wasn't there.

Emma, complete with lilac bridesmaid dress and the all-essential plunging neckline, looked at herself in the full-length mirror and stuck her butt out in the air with an expression of intense dissatisfaction.

"Hmph," she grunted to herself. "Is it just me or has my ass gotten fatter since I last tried this on?"

Betsy rolled her eyes as she rearranged the lacy frills at her generous cleavage. "Emma, if you can fit into that skintight dress without your butt splitting the seams then no, I don't think your ass has put on weight. What is it with you and your butt anyhow?"

"Ugh, I just hate it!" Emma moaned, swiveling round and patting her posterior as if it would make a difference. "Why can't I have a butt like yours? You have such a skinny, supermodel butt. Or what about a pert one like Rogue's? Mine's all fat and lumpy."

"Generous curves are really hot right now," Jean put in from the sidelines, trying to be tactful but earning a penetrating glare from Emma that clearly said, you are so not being helpful right now. All Jean could do in reply was shrug.

"Why are you so bothered about how you look anyway?" Betsy questioned hotly. "Don't tell me you're going to be on the pull at Jean's wedding, now that you don't have Carlos anymore?"

"Oh Carlos-shmarlos!" Emma snapped, giving up on her butt and heaving her wonderbra back into place. "For your information, I don't give a damn about any of the guys going to Jean's wedding!" She paused, pouted and stared at her cantilevered breasts in the mirror. "I've got someone else in mind," she added in a haughty tone.

"Here it comes," Betsy muttered and began to hunt for her lipstick.

"Who?" Jean asked curiously from the other side of the room, where she was adjusting her veil in the mirror. It was a fiddly arrangement of lace tulle, and she was beginning to wish she wasn't wearing a veil at all. "That Shaw guy?"

"Good gracious no!" Emma looked shocked. "I might as well go out with my grandfather! Ugh!"

"Ohmigod!" Betsy suddenly looked up wide-eyed over her compact mirror, mid lipstick application. "It's Bobby Drake, isn't it!"

The smug look on Emma's face said it all. Jean and Betsy exchanged a quick look of surprise and delight before pouncing on their friend.

"What? So you two are finally an item?" Betsy cried.

"Well…not exactly," Emma shrugged with feigned nonchalance. Everyone knew she was secretly loving the attention.

"But I thought you fired him!" Jean exclaimed.

"Well, I did," Emma suddenly looked uncomfortable. "But I swallowed a king-size piece of humble pie and phoned him yesterday. You have no idea how much I humiliated myself just to get him to stay on the line. I asked him if we could at least talk things over, you know…set things right."

"And he said…?" Betsy prompted eagerly.

"He was reluctant," Emma replied, trying to make light of it, but both women could tell it had hit her hard – Emma had never had to beg for a thing in her life, and they knew that if she'd begged Bobby as hard as she'd appeared to, it meant she really did care for him. Emma continued, looking at her reflection with a despondent expression as she did so. "He said I'd insulted him and that he didn't know whether it was worth talking things over if I wasn't going to be honest with him. So I promised him I would be. I said I just wanted him to give me a chance to explain myself and apologize properly. And he said…" she sighed and smiled a small smile at herself, "he said… okay."

"Emma, that's great!" Jean enthused.

Emma shrugged. "It doesn't mean anything – yet. He said he'd come round tomorrow, talk things over. I guess we'll just see how things go from there."

Betsy gave a sarcastic whistle. "Well who would've believed it? Emma Frost thinking of going steady!"

"Shut up!" Emma huffed petulantly. "It's not like I'm signing my life away like Jean is!"

"Hey!" Jean cried, but Emma ignored her indignant tone.

"No disrespect, Jean, but can you imagine living the rest of your life with one man? I know I couldn't!"

"Well, not everyone's so cynical about men as you, Emma," Betsy cut in heatedly. "Honestly, you treat them like they're this season's fashion – once the novelty factor's over they're out the door faster than you can say Coco Chanel! You have no sense of romance, that's what your problem is."

"So?" Emma retorted hotly. "Romance is so damn overrated! I couldn't stand seeing the same guy day in, day out! Don't you ever get bored with Scott, Jean? I mean, I don't get it. What's it like to be with a guy for five years straight? Don't you sometimes feel like you're just going through the motions, that getting engaged is just a natural progression because it's what normal couples do when they've been together for years? Is the sex still even good?"

"Emma!" Betsy gasped, shocked; but Emma shrugged calmly.

"I'm being serious, Betts. Think about it from my perspective, okay? Sure, I've been around the block a few times where men are concerned, but my longest relationship was what – two months? – and I only put up with him because he gave absolutely heavenly foot massages. I mean, what is it that makes a woman want to spend the rest of her life with one man when she could have her pick of many? I really do want to know. So c'mon, Dr. Jean Grey. Why don't you tell me where I've been going wrong all these years?"

Jean was silent a moment, toying with the edge of her veil before shrugging.

"I don't know. Patience? Friendship? Humor?" She paused, about to say 'trust', but knew she'd feel a hypocrite if she did so.

"And does Scott have all these qualities?" Emma asked. "Is that why you're marrying him?"

"What Emma really wants to know," Betsy put in comically, "is doesn't sex at least play a little part in it?"

Emma pretended to lunge at Betsy, who ducked and fell back on the bed laughing.

"Actually, Elisabeth Braddock, I was being deadly serious for once," Emma informed the chuckling ex-model, trying to look cross but failing miserably. "I hardly know a thing about Scott – we barely ever see the man!" She looked over pointedly at Jean. "What's wrong – doesn't Scott like us or something? Are we too vampish for his tastes? Is he afraid we'll turn you into a scheming seductress?"

This was all said jokingly, but was so close to the truth that Jean couldn't laugh about it.

"Well, um…" she mumbled nervously, her cheeks reddening, "maybe he does think you girls can be a bit…rowdy sometimes."

"Rowdy?" Betsy shrieked with laughter. "I knew it! Scott doesn't approve of us!"

"Now that's not true!" Jean retorted defensively.

"God, I'm only kidding!" Betsy exclaimed, looking a bit upset that Jean had taken things so badly. "Honestly, I wouldn't blame him if it was true. He wouldn't be the only one! I mean, between you and me… Neal didn't really like any of you guys either. Do you know what he called you, Emma? A cheap hoe with bad dress sense and delusions of grandeur!"

"He said what!" Emma swung round in outrage, her blue eyes flashing daggers. "Of all the nerve! I hope you phone that little toe-rag and turf his good-for-nothing ass out of your life pronto!"

Betsy lifted the mirror to her face and replied with great aplomb: "Don't worry, Emma. The deed has been done."

"So you told him it's over?" Jean asked quickly, glad to turn the subject away from Emma's uncomfortable questioning. Betsy nodded. She'd already informed Jean and Emma of the latest dramatic developments in her life – although she'd neglected to mention Warren to Emma, not to mention the fact that she had a date lined up with him that very Friday. Besides, Jean suspected that Betsy was still a little scared of Emma's reaction once she found out Betsy was dating her most hated enemy.

"Yup," Betsy returned. "I told him it was over for good. He ranted for five whole minutes before giving up. In a way I think he'd seen it coming. I said I still wanted for us to be friends, but he pretty much threw that back in my face."

"So he didn't take it too well then?" Jean probed.

"I don't think so. He was very cold when we hung up, but I guess I can't blame him."

"Sounds like it's all or nothing with him," Jean noted. "Notice how when you stick up for yourself he doesn't want anything more to do with you. Sounds like you did right in dumping him, Betts."

"I hope so." She paused and began applying her lipstick again before asking rapidly: "So… Anyone heard from Rogue? The funeral's today, isn't it?"

Jean nodded gravely. "Yeah. I don't think she's looking forward to it. She said she's glad to say goodbye to Cody, but she doesn't think she can face all his old friends and relatives. They haven't treated her kindly at all since she got there."

"Hmm," Betsy voiced worriedly, "I suppose they still blame her in a way… It is entirely natural after all…"

"What happened could've happened to anyone, Betts," Jean pointed out, removing the veil and setting it wearily aside. "Rogue was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't her fault."

"I know," Betts nodded, "All I'm saying is that I can understand why his parents would act like that towards her… Cody being their only son and all…"

"Cody was the love of Rogue's life too," Jean returned sternly. "She lost just as much as his parents did and we shouldn't forget that either."

A short, gloomy silence settled over the three women before Emma suddenly spoke up more cheerfully from the sidelines: "Speaking of the love of her life…You'll never guess who I met yesterday."

"What?" Betsy's eyes were suddenly hawk-like. "Who?"

"Remy LeBeau." Emma replied smugly.

"Remy LeBeau!" both Jean and Betsy chorused in amazed unison. Emma nodded wordlessly.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod!" Betsy gasped and flapped her arms about manically. "That is so unfair! What does he look like!"

"Exactly the way Rogue described him – only about a thousand times hotter!" Emma exclaimed dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Geez – if I was Rogue I would've jumped his bones the moment I laid eyes on him! And that accent!" She fanned herself with a hand. "The man is simply to die for!"

"Ohmigod, this is too much!" Betsy squealed. "So did he come over while you were at Rogue's apartment? Was he looking for her?"

"Was he ever!" Emma enthused, leaning over the dresser to check her mascara again. "The guy was desperate! Asking me for her phone number, begging to know where she was staying… He just wouldn't leave! I'll tell you something girls. He is hotter for her that a warm day in Hell! Rogue isn't going to stay single long, I promise you that."

"Emma," Jean asked from the bed in softer, curious tone. "Did you tell him where Rogue was?"

Emma turned round again, a wry smile on her face. "Believe me, Jean, I didn't have a choice. He wouldn't leave until I'd told him. The guy's such a charmer! I don't know why, but whenever he looked at me I had this overwhelming need to tell him all I knew – and then give him my wallet, rings and any other pawnable item on my body as well. Not to mention my body itself," she added with a very large, wicked smirk. "And then – get this – when I'd told him where Rogue was he actually kissed my hand! Kissed my hand, no less! Well, I didn't know whether to laugh or swoon or go down on him there and then!"

"Ohmigod, that is so wrong!" Betsy breathed. "But so right! I simply must meet this guy!"

"Trust me, Betsy," Emma quipped jokingly, "this guy raises the bar about ten foot for all hot men worldwide. You'll never look at another guy the same way again."

"So Bobby Drake doesn't quite make the grade now, does he?" Betsy threw back sarcastically, to which Emma promptly stuck out her tongue and turned back to the mirror.

"Well," Jean attempted to say severely, a small smile nevertheless playing across her face, "I hope Rogue thanks you for leading him to her doorstep, Emma."

"Pfft!" Emma replied flippantly. "Rogue's insane! The way she was going on about all that ethical 'he's-my-boss' crap! The girl so obviously fancies the pants off the guy and is in mind-warping self-denial! You'd have to be brain-dead to waste your time procrastinating when a sex god like that makes himself available to you!"

"Rogue was only being loyal to Cody," Betsy scolded her. "You're so bloody cruel, Emma!"

"I don't care!" Emma pouted. "Look, I know Rogue's upset and she has good reason to be so. All I'm saying is, when there comes a time she wants to start looking to the future, she'll have someone there by her side to help her pick up the pieces. And Rogue's lucky she has someone, Betts." She turned back towards the mirror and added thoughtfully to herself: "She doesn't know just how lucky she is."

-xXx-

It was your typical old house on the hill, large and faintly decrepit, weatherworn yet somehow welcoming with it.

Remy stood out on the veranda, trying to connect Anna to the house, imagining childhood memories that he might never get to know. Somehow, even though the only Anna he'd known was the brazen and sophisticated New York businesswoman, it didn't seem so hard to place her in this magnolia-and-molasses background that seemed a whole life away from the buzzing hive of activity that was the Big Apple.

He self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and brushed himself down before reaching out a hand and knocking on the door.

There was no answer for a long time, and he shifted awkwardly on the veranda, wondering if anyone was in at all, or if she'd seen him coming over a distance and was purposely ignoring him. The thought distressed him and he shoved it aside immediately. Even if he had to break the door down he was going to have it out with her!

It turned out there was no need. Presently he heard the sound of someone approaching, the staccato rapping of a cane on wooden floorboards. He stopped slouching and stood up straight, just as the door was thrown open.

The woman on the other side of the threshold was a small, spare lady in her sixties, with a careworn face that looked as if it might have been beautiful once if it hadn't borne the weight of so many difficult years. She raised her head slightly, but not quite to the level of his face. Her eyes were obscured behind dark shades and in her right hand she held an elegant, polished, mahogany cane.

"Irene Adler?" he asked. The woman's face raised a little more, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar voice.

"Yes?"

"My name's Remy LeBeau," he introduced himself. "I'm lookin' for Anna."

The woman's expression changed.

"You'd better come in," she said.

Irene walked round the kitchen with the brisk pace of habit. Remy sat at the dining table and watched her move, half impatient to hear about Rogue, half interested to see the place where she'd grown up. Irene intrigued him, not least because she seemed so unlike Rogue – and yet it was she that had brought Rogue up. He wondered what Anna had been like when she was a child – had she always been so beautiful, or just a gawky young teenager who'd blossomed? What made her sad about this place, what made her happy? Why had she decided to leave Caldecott at all? A plethora of questions suddenly overwhelmed him. He was closer to knowing more about Rogue than ever before, and yet he remained silent, not knowing whether asking this quiet little old lady about her daughter's past was acceptable or out of line. Instead he watched the brisk, methodical movements of the woman as she went about her everyday routine.

Presently she came up and placed a steaming cup of tea before him before slowly sitting down opposite him.

"So," she began mildly, "you're Remy LeBeau."

"You heard of me?"

"Anna mentioned you."

He didn't quite know how to feel about that. "Oh."

There was a faint smile on the old woman's face as she reached in her pocket for a packet of cigarettes. "She likes you," she said, popping one of the cigarettes in her mouth and patting herself down for a lighter. Seeing she couldn't find it, Remy reached out with his own and offered it to her. She continued to search, as if she hadn't seen him at all. It was only then that Remy realized that Irene Adler was blind. A surge of sympathy welled up within him. So Anna had spent her childhood looking after a blind foster mother… Somehow it was so like her. His heart went out to her even more than it had before.

Standing up, he leaned over the table towards the older woman.

"Here, let me." He flicked the lighter, lit the woman's cigarette. When it was finally smoking she sat back and smiled slightly at him.

"Thank you," she said.

He sat back down, looking briefly round the room. There didn't seem to be any sign of Anna, nor of any of her belongings. But there were two cups left out by the sink, one small token that her presence had been in this house. His optimism grew a little.

"So she told you she liked me, huh?" he asked shortly. "If dat's so, den why'd she leave me?"

Irene pulled on her cigarette, her expression contemplative. "Coming here was something she had to do," she returned after a moment, rather cryptically.

"Den she should've told me."

"Should she? Does she really owe you anything?"

Remy pursed his lips and pushed the cup of tea aside, standing up and leaning towards the older woman. "Look," he began, "I don't have time for dis. I know Anna's got another guy, an' I know she probably doesn't want t' see me no more… But I have t' talk t' her. I have t' tell her how I feel."

"And how do you feel about her?" Irene asked softly.

"I care for her enough to come all de way down here from New York even though I know she's already taken," he confessed after a moment. It was more than he'd ever be willing to admit to anybody but he really was desperate to see her again. "Look, Ms. Adler, if you'd just tell me where she is…"

"She's busy right now," Irene replied calmly, signing for him to sit down again. "It's best you don't go and see her."

"You mean she's wit' him, right?" he asked, crestfallen.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." She paused. "She's gone to pay him her last respects."

Remy stared sharply at her, stunned. Irene remained unflustered, not having seen his reaction at all. He pulled out the photograph from his pocket, flashed it at her, forgetting her blindness in his shock. "We talkin' 'bout de same guy here, Ms. Adler? De guy in dis picture?"

Irene smiled faintly. "I am blind, Mr. LeBeau. I never knew what he looked like. But if that is the photograph that Anna always used to carry round with her wherever she went… then yes, it's him."

Remy sat down again slowly, confused.

"You mean…he's…"

"Dead? Yes, Mr. LeBeau. He passed away just last week. Anna came here for the funeral this morning. She wanted to say goodbye."

Remy was silent, swallowing this new piece of information whole. The shock, the tears… the reason behind them all became clear to him now, not to mention the reason she'd run away after spending the night with him. He'd thought she'd just had a row with her boyfriend, slept with him, realized her mistake, and run off to make up with the guy, leaving Remyfeeling stranded and hurt. But it turned out it was Remy himself who'd made the mistake and read the whole situation wrong. He didn't know whether to feel upset or relieved. He'd been agonizing over her for the past few days and now that he knew she was available to him he should've been dancing for joy. But what stood in their way now was something a whole lot more complicated than any living, breathing boyfriend.

Remy ran an agitated hand through his hair and swore.

"Merde…"

Irene said nothing, silently blowing smoke across the table, waiting for him to speak. After a moment he looked up and asked with genuine concern: "Is Anna… Is she okay?"

The older woman felt for a nearby ashtray, pulled it towards her. "As well as you might expect," she replied soberly, setting the smoldering cigarette aside. "She was … very close to him."

"Tell me about them," Remy asked softly. Irene was meditative, saying nothing as she calmly lifted her teacup and took a sip as she ruminated over past events.

"His name was Cody Robbins," she began at last, placing the cup methodically back into its saucer. "He and Anna were childhood sweethearts. They were inseparable as children, and over time the feelings grew into something more. They fell in-love and soon after became engaged."

"Engaged, huh?" Remy repeated bitterly, looking down at the photo of the smiling couple in his hands.

"Yes," Irene nodded shortly. "Some said it was fate, that they were meant to be together, that they couldn't be suited to anyone else but one another. And Anna was happy. She never even wanted to look at another man. They were, to all intents and purposes, what most people would call the perfect couple." She smiled, a fond little smile at memories that now seemed somehow quaint and nostalgic. "Then, two weeks before they were about to be married, there was an accident. A car accident. It was a miracle they both survived."

Remy chewed on his bottom lip, his expression pensive. "And Anna… she was de one behind de wheel?"

Irene nodded grimly. "Yes. Luckily she got away with some bruises and a few broken ribs. Cody wasn't so fortunate. The accident left him in a coma and the doctors said there was no hope he'd ever recover. You can imagine how heartbroken Anna was. Here she was, a young bride-to-be, so full of hopes and dreams and expectations. And suddenly, there wasn't going to be a groom waiting for her at the altar and it was all her fault. She just couldn't stay in Mississippi after that. It was the survivor guilt – everyday she'd wish she'd been taken instead of him. His parents never forgave her for living while their son was left hanging on the edge of death. And she couldn't bear to be round Cody anymore, knowing he'd never wake up, knowing that even though he was still clinging onto life he'd never be able to see her again."

"So she moved to New York," Remy concluded, slowly realizing they shared a lot more in common than he'd first thought.

"Yes." Irene nodded. "To be with the friends who cared for her and would keep an eye on her. She wanted to start afresh, live a new life. Things were difficult for her though. Her career, her relationships… nothing ever worked out. At one point she wanted to give in and come back here…" Irene half smiled, resting her hands upon her brass-headed cane, "…but I knew she was better off staying in New York. I told her she just had to stick at it. Something good was destined to come her way. The girl deserved nothing less, after all the pain she'd been through. She never believed me though. I don't think she thought anyone could ever make her as happy as Cody did."

Remy's smile was slightly shamefaced though filled with relief. "Kinda makes a guy understand why she was always on de defensive all de time, neh?"

Irene smirked. "She's a stubborn girl. But you have to understand what she's been through."

His face softened as he fingered the edges of the photo, smoothing a thumb across her cheek. "Just wish she'd told me," he stated in a low voice.

"She's proud too, in case you hadn't noticed. She'd be darned before she told an untrustworthy Cajun Casanova her life story, don't you think?"

Remy's mouth twisted humorously. "She said dat 'bout me, huh?"

"Yes." Irene nodded. "She has… a very big soft spot for you, Mr. LeBeau."

"Big enough to make it worth me goin' out dere and askin' her whether we have a chance?" he asked hopefully. Irene shrugged.

"She thinks you don't really want her. I don't know whether the fact that you've chased her all the way down here will change her mind about that, but what I do know is that anything's worth a try." She paused and her face softened. "All I want for that girl is happiness, Mr. LeBeau. I don't know how trustworthy you are with any woman's heart, let alone hers. But you've told me you care about her, and that's more than any man's given her these past few years. Maybe if you tell her so, she'll give you a chance."

Maybe. Maybe it was too soon to ask her to be with him, or maybe it wasn't and she'd give him a chance. Whatever her answer would be, Remy was determined to make a go of it.

He looked down at the photo in his hand, the smiling girl who'd lost so much. She was everything he'd ever wanted and he was willing to give back every little thing she'd lost if it was in his power.

He stood up.

Remy was going to tell her how he felt, even if it cost him all the heart he had left.

-oOo-

I can't cry.

It's been four years since I arrived in New York, four years since I stopped thinking about this whole sorry affair and now that it's all been rushing back at me, I still can't cry. Even standing here, right in front of Cody's grave.

For once I'm alone and it's just him and me. All the way through the service, I'd stood on the sidelines, feeling uncertain and unwelcome by his loved ones. Now, with the mourners dispersed, I've finally got time to say goodbye properly. Only I don't know what to say. I don't even know if I can let go, if it's too soon. I've been standing here ten minutes already, wondering why the tears aren't coming. I feel as if I don't have any tears left to cry.

A breeze gets up and I tug my coat closer about me, wishing more than anything to have someone's arms round me, a little bit of warmth from the coldness I feel inside.

"Rogue?"

At the unexpected yet familiar voice I start and swing round, shocked. He's standing only a few feet away, looking as gorgeous as he always does. Remy LeBeau. My heart does a leapfrog. Seeing him again, for the first time since that night, gives me a tingling feeling of both dread and delight.

"What're you doin' here!" I exclaim, unable to hide my surprise.

"What does it look like?" he asks. He takes a step towards me and I quickly lower my head.

"Yah shouldn'ta followed me, Cajun," I mutter.

"Why?" he asks. "In case y' didn't know, y' kinda had me wonderin' why y' left me high an' dry without sayin' goodbye."

"What!" I turn to him again angrily. "That's rich, comin' from you! Ah spend one night with a man who's had just about every girl in town, an' then he expects me t' leave him an explanation as t' why Ah left! Y' sure have got some nerve, Remy LeBeau!"

"Okay, okay," he concedes bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "So maybe I deserved t' be treated like dat, but…"

"It ain't what yah deserve, Cajun, it's what yah expect!" I yell at him. "It's what yah expect from every sad little 'relationship' yah've ever had! Why am Ah any different! Why do Ah haveta explain myself to yah!"

I turn my back on him again, my gaze falling onto to Cody's tombstone. Tears finally smart my eyes. Why can't he leave me alone? I don't want to be reminded of what we shared. I don't want to face that feeling inside of me, the feeling I get when I see him, when I know I should be mourning Cody's loss.

"I heard about Cody," he says at last with uncharacteristic softness. "I know how you must be feelin', and I didn't want t' intrude on your grief. An' I know you probably don't want t' see me anymore after what happened b'tween us but I just had to let you know dat…"

He pauses and I can't help but fill in for him: "That you finally won? That you finally succeeded in gettin' me into yah bed? That Ah was the best fuck you ever had?"

"You really t'ink I'd come all de way down here just t' say dat to you?" he asks sadly. I can't answer. I'm too scared. "Truth is, chere," he continues, "I didn't know it 'till de other night, but… I really care for you. T'ink I always did, I just didn't know it. You special, Rogue. Dere ain't no other femme like you."

"And how many gals have yah said the exact same thing to, huh?" I ask coldly, never taking my eyes away from Cody's grave.

"I ain't gonna lie, Rogue. I said it to a lot o' girls. But wit' you, I mean it."

I don't believe him. I can't believe him.

"Rogue, I know you been hurt. Believe me, I know." His tone drops and I'm surprised to hear real pain in his voice. "I once had someone I cared 'bout too. Really cared about, like you cared 'bout Cody. Her name was Belle – we'd been in-love since we was pups. We were gon' get married too. Thought it was gon' last forever, dat dere'd never be a femme as special as her. But she decided she didn't feel de same way 'bout me. She called de whole t'ing off, told me she'd found someone else. For a long time, I didn't want t' b'lieve it was over either." He pauses, but I still can't bring myself to look at him. My eyes are burning as I look down at Cody's grave. He's never told anyone this before, Ah know he hasn't…He's been hurt as much as Ah have, maybe more… Cody never rejected meh… At least Ah know he died lovin' meh… But him and Belle… "I guess I figured dat if I couldn't care for anyone after Belle, I wouldn't even bother tryin'," he says, shamefaced. "I was an idiot. I slept wit' any girl I could, jus' cos it was easy. I tried t' kid myself into thinkin' it felt better because it didn't haveta be anyt'ing deep. But den you come along an' change all dat."

Why is he doing this? I can't understand. To lay himself bare like that… He must mean it, he must…

I turn to him, my eyes moist.

"Just one night, one crazy night an' you think yah care about me, Cajun? Just like yah 'cared' 'bout all those other gals?"

He's closer now, so close that if I didn't have an ounce of sense in me I'd've thrown my arms around him and kissed him…

"You want me t' say it?" he asks in sudden frustration. "Okay den, I'll say it. I love you Rogue. I love your eyes. I love your smile. I love your laugh an' dat stupid skunk stripe in your hair. I even love de way you sass an' insult me. Dere, I said it. Goddammit, Rogue, what more d'you want from me?"

He'd said it. He'd said those words. A part of me can't believe it. All that time waiting to hear those words again… All the loneliness and the heartbreak and the self-doubt… And he feels the same way about me, the way Cody felt about me…

It's too good to be true. All the times he'd harassed me, insulted me, stared at me like I was nothing more than a piece of meat… Could it really have been a cover for love? I can't believe it. It can't be possible. And yet he came all the way down here just t' see meh, just t' tell me all this… He can't be lyin'… An' if he ain't lyin'…

I shake my head fiercely. No, this is wrong, this is all wrong…

"This ain't right," I announce half to myself.

"Ain't right?" He's so close now and his hand clutches my arm, trying to pull me round to face him. "Rogue, how can dis not be right if I…"

"Because it ain't!" I shout, whirling round and wrenching my arm from his grasp. He steps back, wounded, and I try not to feel sorry for him, I can't… The tears are finally falling now, thick and fast.

"Look at yah! Comin' all the way down here and declarin' yah so-called undyin' love for meh in a cemetery, in front of the grave of mah fiancé, the man Ah was meant t' marry! Ah've just been to his funeral, goddammit! Cody was the only man who ever loved meh, Cody was the man Ah was supposed to spend the rest of mah life with! How dare yah come here and treat his mem'ry with disrespect! How insensitive can yah be, expectin' me t' make a decision t' be with you when Ah'm here mournin' for his loss!"

"Rogue, dat ain't what I meant," he tries to defend himself, and it must be the first time I've heard him sounding truly desperate but I refuse to hear any more.

"Yah don't know what love is!" I retort heartlessly, unable to help myself. "Yah don't know what it's like t' love meh! What me an' Cody had was love. It was knowin' his favorite cereal, his favorite book, his favorite team, what made him smile and what made him tick. And he knew Ah take my coffee with one sugah. He knew Ah can play the blues, that Ah love horses and that stupid swing down by the river 'cos…'cos it was the place we shared our first kiss." I blink, an unruly tear clinging stubbornly to an eyelash before slipping and plummeting down to the ground. I take in a breath, barely able to say anymore. "That was love, Remy," I half whisper. "And what we have ain't love."

He's quiet, and I can feel how much he wants to put his arms round me, and I want him to, I want him to prove me wrong…

"You're right," he finally replies, softly, slowly. "I don't know dat kind of love. I've never had it. And it's true I don't even know a t'ing about you." He stops, raises his eyes to me. "But I wan' you t' teach me, Anna. I wan' you t' teach me what it takes t' be your man." He steps in close beside me and the next moment his finger hooks my chin, turning me to face him, to gaze into those beautiful eyes of his, and I can't say no. "Maybe dis ain't love an' I'm just goin' crazy, but I don't know what else to call it. I can't get you out of my head, you're dere every step I take, every corner I turn. I just want t' make you happy, Anna. Tell me dat ain't love."

I stare into those calm crimson eyes, their truth, their sincerity… and suddenly I believe what he's saying. I want him to wrap his arms around me and hold me. I want him to love me. But I just can't…

I turn my head away, breaking his touch. "Ah'm just your fantasy, Remy," I reply, sadly, firmly. "The only one who ever accepted and loved me for all that Ah am is lying six feet beneath yah. Don't give me this bullshit about wanting to make me happy… yah can't. You're not him."

"I know," he answers. "I ain't Cody. Maybe I'll never measure up t' him… But I just had to tell you how I felt… B'cause dat night meant somet'ing, Anna. It wasn't just a one night stand… it was somet'ing more, it made me want somet'ing more –"

"Yah don't get it, do you?" I hiss through my teeth, suddenly frustrated. "Yah come here an' talk about that one dirty night as if it's evidence that there's somethin' more b'tween us. And you even do it in front of mah fiancé's grave! Well if that's the way you want t' play it then fine! You wanna know the truth, Cajun! The truth is, Ah wanted t' sleep with yah! Ah wanted t' do it, because Ah was sad an' pathetic an' lonely, an' Ah figured Ah'd never meet a decent guy again who'd comfort me an' love me for who Ah am an' not b'cause of what Ah look like! And there yah were, an' yah would've taken me even if Ah was some cheap hooker offa the streets, an' Ah knew you didn't love me and that Ah didn't love you, but Ah still wanted it b'cause no one else would have meh!"

I stop, and every word I say cuts me to the core but I just can't stop, I'm so furious, with Cody, with Remy, with myself. He just stares at me, dumbfounded. I look at his face and I know I've finally done it – I've hurt him. For the first time, I've really, truly wounded him.

"Don't yah get it!" I yell when he doesn't leave. "It was me! Ah was the one who took advantage of you!"

He flounders, finally finding his voice. "Is dat how it truly was for you, Anna?" he questions, totally deflated. "Just some crazy fling?"

I turn back to the grave, swallowing hard. I can't bring myself to deny my true feelings anymore. I know I can't say yes. So I say nothing.

"Rogue?" he asks again.

"Leave me alone!" I reply vehemently. Leave me alone to be with the man Ah was supposed to be with, the only man who ever treated me right. How can Ah ever trust yah to be faithful t' me like Cody was? How can Ah ever believe you love me after the way you've treated meh all this time? Out of the corner of my eye, I see him finally back away.

"All right, Anna," he says softly, defeated. "You win. I'm goin'. I just hope y' find a man who measures up t' Cody. Good luck findin' him, chere. You deserve him, more den I deserve you."

He leaves. My heart sinks. I can't bear to see him walk away from me. I'm left alone, back to my thoughts, to my prayers, to my grief. A part of me resents him for intruding into my space, the last space I'd ever reserved for Cody. Another part longs to accept everything he just offered to me. But I can't help feeling this way. I can't help feeling that I was the one who survived Cody, that I have to spend every last day of my life honoring the fact that he died and I lived so I could carry on his memory.

The tears begin to fall again as I gaze down at his grave.

Help me, Cody. Help me know what to do.

-xXx-

To be continued...