Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel. We are poor nobodies who are writing this simply for pleasure. Please don't sue us!

A/N: Okay, so we didn't quite make Le Diable Blanc's deadline, but we hope this is quick enough for y'all. :)

-xOx-

Mix 'n' Match

(22) Leap of Faith

I've been back at work for ten days now. Ten days, and I'm feeling miserable. Miserable because I can't stand looking him in the eye anymore, miserable because I can't stand avoiding him anymore. I've swapped desks with Peter, because I can't even stand seeing his silhouette walking round his office anymore. Every movement he makes speaks to me, chides me for being so cruel to him. I suppose I should have been grateful that JP didn't fire me, but I still want to leave. I want to tender my resignation and forget all about him. I can't bring myself to do it. Even if it's torture to know he's so near and yet so far, it's also a comfort, and it'd be torture to deprive myself of him.

He's left me alone, respecting my wishes and keeping his distance. It isn't enough. I want him further away. And I want him nearer than ever before.

It's not like I don't want to talk to him. It's the exact opposite really. I just don't know what to say to him. I don't know what I can say or what needs to be said or… I just don't know anything anymore.

Within four years time, I go from knowing everything to absolutely nothing.

I'm in the photocopy room, wondering just how much more of this I can take. The rhythmic movement of the machine spewing out paper compliments the ebb and flow of my thoughts, a train track with no seeming end or resolution. He told me he loves me. I don't believe he really knows what love is. But I believe he believes he loves me. I believe he'd learn to love me, if he tried. I even believe I'd love him back with all my heart. So why aren't I doing anything about it?

Whether by fault or design, my daydreams have caused me to let my guard down. The next moment I find he's standing at the photocopier beside mine, feigning casualness as he slips his papers into the machine and presses the copy button. There's a stiffness to his movements that tells me he's feeling as awkward as I am. And to think I thought nothing would ever bring the man down!

I lean over the machine and concentrate on reading the fire emergency rules, hoping to narrow the risk of having to look at him. We say nothing for a good minute or so. I can't resist taking a peek at him. Looks like he couldn't resist either. Our gazes meet and we don't have any time to pull away.

"Hi," he says, too soft for the word to be neutral.

"Hi," I say weakly, my heart pounding. I turn away again, my cheeks reddening as I feel his gaze still on me, running over every curve with such intensity it makes my knees want to buckle with the memory of what he can do to me… His copies are finally finished and he picks them up, he goes to the door, stops, turns.

"Anna –" he begins, only to falter since he hasn't a clue what to say, or even what he wants to say.

"Mr. LeBeau?" I ask, still not looking at him. He clears his throat.

"Could you join me in my office, please? When you're done, I mean."

"Ah'm busy, Mr. LeBeau. Is this important because Ah have a report to make as yah know and…" I make my excuses but am quickly cut off.

"Bring your report. We'll be needin' it. I'll see y' in my office in ten minutes," he states, walking away before I can respond.

I walk back to my desk with butterflies in my stomach. I don't know whether the butterflies are down to nervousness, or the feeling he'd given me when I'd felt his gaze envelop my body. I wonder what I'm going to say to him. Maybe he won't mention anything about us. Maybe we're all in the past. I surely made it seem that way back in Mississippi. Maybe we're just going to resume the role of employer and employee now, like it should have been in the first place. Maybe all we're going to do is talk about the current campaign and that's going to be it. I manage to convince myself and find the nerve to gather up my papers.

I walk towards his office and knock twice.

"Come in."

Taking a deep breath, I turn the doorknob and walk in.

"Have a seat," he instructs as he gets up off his chair and closes the door behind me.

Nervously, I sit down. There's a silence that threatens never to end if one of us doesn't say something. The only thing I can do is what I came here to do. So I begin to make my report. "Mr. LeBeau," I begin, "the campaign so far has been progressing well. Peter has employed the work of several impressive digital designers that will…"

"I don't want to talk about dat," he cuts me off as he looks down at me, merely inches away. His eyes are serious, his composure tense and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and ease him out of it. Of course, I don't do anything but inhale a sharp breath of air.

"Well, if yah wanna get into the contract details with the –"

"I wanna talk about us."

Well, at least he can cut to the chase…

I say nothing and wait for him to continue.

"I can't stand dis, Rogue," he finally bursts. "Dis silence. De cold shoulder. De way t'ings are between us. You're drivin' me crazy, chere. Let's talk dis over and work things out."

"There's nothing to talk about, Mr. LeBeau –"

"Don't give me dis Mr. LeBeau bullshit! I'm sick and tired of all dese games! I've tried, chere, I've really tried! But every time I look at you…And every time you look at me…" He pauses, taking in a breath. "You know as well as I know dat dere's still something between us," he finishes softly, "and I ain't gonna waste time fencin' wit' you anymore. Not if I have a chance. Tell me I still got a chance, chere."

His gaze is so intense I can barely breathe. My heart is in my throat as I hurriedly rise from my seat.

"Ah think we've said all that needed to be said back in Caldecott," I breathe. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" I try to make a break for the door, but my knees buckle and I almost fall. The next moment his arms are around me, helping me upright, holding me close, and I find my face just inches from his, my lips just millimeters from his kiss. Our bodies are pressed so close it almost takes our breaths away, it almost makes me gasp at the intimacy of the embrace.

This is the closest we've been since that night we were together…

His arms ring my waist, holding me closer to the familiar warm hardness of his body, and for once I have no inclination to resist.

"I know y're scared," he murmurs tantalizingly, his husky voice stirring up all the innermost feelings I thought I'd buried, "and goddammit, I am too. But I'm not gonna back down. You asked me once if I would fight for you. Guess what, chere, dat's exactly what I'm doin'." He pauses, and I say nothing, I can't find the words… He shifts, breathing in the fragrance of my lips and says, "I want you, Rogue…"

I want to whimper at the passion in his voice, I want to move that one inch closer and kiss him. But instead I close my eyes, I swallow hard, I breathe in the spicy scent of him and remember that one amazing night between us…

"Ah want yah too, Remy…"

Ring, ring!

My eyes fly open and I find myself staring straight into his seductive, crimson-eyed gaze before we hesitantly break apart. The heat of our embrace is lost. He sits slowly on the edge of the desk and picks up the phone, never once taking his eyes off of mine. There's hope in his glance now, hope that we can be something more, and it feels good to know I've given him that hope, that I'm not so afraid anymore…

"Oui?" he speaks into the receiver evenly, calmly, his eyes still searching my face. "Yes, she's here. We're just havin' an update at de moment. Uh huh… Right now? D'accord… Sure, I'll let her know."

He slowly places the phone back in its cradle, looks at me.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"JP. He wants t' speak t' you. Right now. Sounds important."

"Guess our tete-a-tete is gonna have to wait…" I remark softly, disappointed despite myself.

"I guess so."

My eyes lift to his again and we share a last wordless, longing gaze.

I turn to the door.

"Rogue," he says.

I pause.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I take you out for lunch, okay? We can carry on talkin' dis through…"

My heart lifts at his words.

"No can do, sugah. A friend's gettin' married tomorrow and Ah have bridesmaid duties."

"Oh…" he murmurs and I can almost feel his brain working, trying to find a way round it… I turn round and add quickly: "The reception should be a great shindig though. Maybe yah might wanna come."

He looks surprised.

"Really?"

"St. Michael's church, two-thirty?"

He smiles. "I'll be there."

He looks so relieved, so adorable that I just can't help myself. I cross the room, gently grasp the lapels of his jacket and capture his lips in a chaste kiss. His hands instinctively go to my hips, his touch strong yet light as he grips me. His lips feel so good on mine and I want to give him more, but we both know now isn't the time. I break away unwillingly, but he holds me a moment longer, his hands lightly traveling the curve of my butt before smoothing upward to rest snugly in the small of my back.

"I'll be thinkin' of nothin' but you all night…" he drawls, his eyes longingly tracing the arch of my mouth.

"Ah'll see yah tomorrow," I whisper.

He lets go of me reluctantly.

I leave the room feeling like I'm walking on air.

-oOo-

Evening had descended on the city and Jean Grey stood in the entrance of the Hideaway as she'd been doing several nights a week since she'd last spoken to Logan. Every time she'd come here and stood in amongst the throng of partygoers her resolution had failed her and she'd stand there, bathed in the warm neon lights, unable to put that one step forward and go inside.

The truth was, she no longer had any reason to go inside. This time tomorrow, she'd be a married woman and her encounters with Logan would all be in the past. Most likely she'd never step a foot in the Hideaway again. Maybe she'd see him now and then, walking down the street or in the Super Low Val-U Mart. Maybe they'd even smile at one another and say 'hello'. Maybe they'd be able to pretend there weren't any feelings between them, that there never had been in the first place.

So why was she here, yet again, standing in the entrance, wondering whether she should go in? Jean wasn't entirely sure herself. The past fortnight her heart had ached and she'd been pining for those few precious minutes she'd spent in Logan's company. She hadn't seen him again since that incident at the gas station and she didn't think she could handle the thought of not seeing him again as an unmarried woman. It sounded absurd but if she could just lay her eyes on him one more time before she signed her life away to Scott's she'd be happy. She didn't even have to talk to him. Just look at him, know he was doing fine, feel the feeling she always got when she saw him…

And then what? What if she'd want more? What if one peek wouldn't be enough, what if she'd have to walk right in there up to the bar and talk to him because she wanted to hear his voice again? And what if even that wasn't enough? What if she wanted a smile, a tender touch, a kiss? What if she wanted one last night of freedom?

That was why she stood here. That's why she never went inside. Because she was afraid of temptation, because she was afraid that if she found the courage to love him, she wouldn't be able to let him go. And Scott didn't deserve that. He hadn't succumbed to temptation. She owed him her fidelity. Even if it was going to cost her passion, excitement…love. True love.

Horror washed over her and she knew she couldn't stand here waiting any longer. Whirling round to leave she found herself crashing headlong into a stranger. She stumbled and almost fell, but the man caught her, grasping her by the elbows, holding her upright.

"Whoa, chere. You okay?"

Jean looked up shakily, finding herself staring into a handsome face, the eyes obscured by a pair of shades. But she was too distressed to pay any attention to her rescuer. Quickly she jerked away from his grasp, her gaze distracted.

"I…I'm sorry," she breathed and ran back to her car. She was being utterly selfish, thinking only of her needs. If she broke things off with Scott she wouldn't only be letting him down. What about her family, who'd been preparing and investing so much into this day? What about her friends, who'd planned so much of it, who wanted to share it with her? How could she bear to let them down?

Jean slid into her car, slumped her head against the wheel and breathed in hard. There was no way she wasn't going to see this through. Tomorrow she would be what she'd wanted to be the past five years. She was going to be married to the only man she loved. She was going to be Mrs. Jean Summers and a beautiful future was going to lie ahead of her.

Only trouble was, she wasn't sure it was a future she wanted anymore.

-xXx-

Remy watched the distressed redhead run off with a concerned expression on his face. She'd seemed so upset – almost in tears – and he wondered whether she'd been having trouble with anyone inside the club. Instinct told him to go after her, but before he could she'd disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

Remy shrugged, trying to put this latest event aside. He had enough on his plate without being some lady's knight in shining armor yet again. Instead he turned and walked inside his favorite haunt. The Hideaway had always welcomed him with the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke, the warmth of body heat and the promise of pretty women. Tonight though, he had other things on his mind. He took off his shades, tucked them into his shirt pocket, took his usual seat at the bar, signaled for the usual bourbon and lit up the usual cigarette. Several scantily-clad girls brushed up against him like they always did, inviting him into their arms and their beds with a subtle touch and a sexy look. Normally he would've thought it bad manners to disappoint them. Tonight his mind was firmly on a certain sassy Mississippi river-rat and how the last thing he wanted was to disappoint her. He was in-love all over again and it felt goddamn good.

"Still no lady, bub?"

Logan was standing at the bar, just like he always was, a drink in his hand. There was no love lost between the two, but Remy was in such a good mood he couldn't help smiling. "Non," he replied. "But dis time tomorrow I'm hopin' will be diff'rent."

Logan smirked and slid his drink over. "So Green Eyes wanted some spice in her life after all?"

"Turns out she wasn't spoken for anyways," Remy replied evenly, downing a mouthful and giving a wry smile. "Turns out t'ings were more complicated den another man. Still, her an' me… mebbe by tomorrow, we can work t'ings out."

"You seem pretty confident," Logan remarked gruffly, absent-mindedly serving another customer while managing to maintain full concentration on the conversation. Remy grinned.

"She's given me reason to be," he replied.

"Oh really?"

A blonde in a skirt which could've doubled up for a belt came up beside him and leaned across the bar, displaying a pair of breasts even Emma would've envied. She passed Remy a come-hither look, the kind of look that said buy me a drink and let's go find a corner. Logan watched out of the corner of his eye as Remy gave her the once over with an appreciative smile, but said nothing. After a moment, thoroughly disappointed, the blonde sidled away with an indignant pout on her lips.

"Well ain't this heartwarming," Logan noted sardonically. "You don't even know if Green Eyes really wants you and all of a sudden you're actin' like you're taken."

Remy snorted and held his drink to his lips. "Rogue's easily hotter den any other femme in dis room."

"Rogue?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "She sounds hot."

"Oh she is, mon ami. Red hot."

Logan screwed up his face in distaste. "Sounds like she has you wrapped round her li'l finger, bub."

"She can wrap me round any part of her most gorgeous anatomy any time of de day or night, mon ami," Remy quipped, to which Logan merely grunted skeptically and turned to pick up a bottle of vodka. This wasn't the Remy he was used to, the Remy who'd come in practically every night with a random girl on his arm and who'd pick up a different one on the way out. This Remy was the kind of guy the old Remy would've scoffed at. Even Logan would've been laughing at how the tables had turned if he hadn't been feeling so lovelorn himself.

"So," Remy asked him from behind, sounding a little smug now that he was about to snare the lady of his dreams, "how're t'ings goin' wit' dat femme you were interested in?"

Logan frowned and busied himself with pouring out some more drinks. "Four words – they ain't goin' nowhere, Gumbo," he replied, his tone surly. "Hell, I ain't even see the broad the past fortnight or so."

"Aw, c'mon," Remy joked slyly. "I thought you were de regular old charmer wit' de ladies, Logan. All y' have t' do is snarl at dem dat way you do and dey be swoonin' at your feet."

Logan was in no mood to be teased. He bared his teeth and glared at Remy just like a regular canine and said menacingly: "I can still throw your sorry ass out of this joint, Cajun, not to mention show you what a knuckle-sandwich really tastes like. Jus' cos I ain't as lucky with the chicks as you are…" He trailed off, grumbling to himself.

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean no disrespect," Remy held up his hands, realizing he'd touched a sore spot. "I didn't know you were dat interested in dis femme…"

"Save it, Cajun," Logan interrupted bluntly. "I don't wanna hear anymore 'bout it, okay? Red's gettin' married and if I go down her place an' try to talk things over with her, I'll just be gettin' in the way. She don't want me," he finished morosely, turning away again.

"How de hell d'you know?" Remy demanded, annoyed to see the usually brusque and forthright bar-owner feeling sorry for himself. "Weren't you de one who told me not to give up on Rogue? Merde, if you really loved dis woman you'd go fight for her. You always walkin' round like you're de man, punchin' people's daylights out, growlin' at dem when dey act outta line… Why you actin' like such a wuss all of a sudden?"

"Because Red don't want me!" Logan bellowed at the infuriating Cajun. "Because no one would want a washed-up old failure like me, someone who can't even remember what it's like to be close to anyone anymore! I mean look at me! What would a gorgeous girl who already has a man who's dependable and reliable …what the hell would she want with me!"

By now half the bar staff and patrons were staring at him in silent amazement at his violent outburst and he swiveled back to the rows of drinks behind the bar again, seething with fury and self-pity, not even caring anymore that half the club knew what a sad loser he was. Even Remy was temporarily shocked into speechlessness at his explosion before slowly finding his voice again.

"Waitaminnit… Red? As in redhead?"

"That's what I said," Logan muttered belligerently. "So what?"

"So," Remy returned in a troubled tone, "I just saw dis redhead outside de entrance, lookin' all upset and like she was gonna cry… I thought someone in here had been givin' her trouble, but she ran 'way before I could find out…"

Logan swung round.

"What? Where?" he demanded, his self pity vanished and his senses now fully alert. "Out there? When!"

"Jus' b'fore I came in…" Remy answered, a little taken aback at the feral look in the older man's eyes. "She left b'fore I could do anyt'ing…"

But Logan was barely listening, his gaze far-away as he remembered that day they'd met at the gas station, the way her body had stiffened when it had brushed against his, the way her eyes had burned and her flesh had goosepimpled…"Jean…" he half whispered to himself. Maybe she hadn't forgotten about him after all…

"But it might not have been her," Remy continued in the background while Logan stood there dumbly, staring at the door. "Dere could be any number o' redheads round dis area right now and besides… she's gone now…"

Gone now.

And yet she'd been waiting for him. Waiting for him outside this building, wondering if she should see him again one last time. And God knew how many times she'd been doing the same thing. God knew how many times he'd missed his chance to find out, to really find out whether this was just a crazy dream or reality.

For the rest of the night and long into the small hours, Logan was haunted, haunted by the idea that maybe, somehow, he and his redheaded doctor could still be something more…

-oOo-

At that moment, on the other side of town, Emma was merrily driving over to Betsy's apartment, humming a ridiculous and mostly tone-deaf tune to herself. The past week or so, life had been like a dream for Emma. That wasn't to say it hadn't been without its trials. After all the men she'd eaten her way through, she'd had to get used to treating a guy as an equal in her life - not to mention just plain doing the things that couples normally did. But for once Emma was willing to learn, and even she had to admit she didn't know she had so much patience. But it was all worth it knowing that at the end of the day Bobby would be there for her, and, if nothing else, cheer her up with his asinine anecdotes.

Yes, Emma was doing a lot of loving and a lot of smiling these days. She was surprised her face hadn't cracked yet.

What with all this relationship stuff taking over her life, the only downside was that she'd been rather neglecting her friends of late. So now she was taking the opportunity to spend the night on the town with Betsy. The two had planned the date weeks ago and honestly Emma had all but forgotten about it. She'd much rather have spent the night with Bobby, but since the code of ethics always said that neglecting friends for boyfriends was a bad idea, Emma decided it was time for a bit of catching up on gossip before Jean's wedding got underway.

Little did she know just how much catching up she was heading for.

Emma parked her car and glided up to Betsy's apartment. Ringing the bell, she took out her compact mirror and checked her make-up while she waited for her purple-haired friend to answer the door. A minute and a half later she was still waiting and she was about to punch the buzzer again when the door swung open.

She nearly got the shock of her life when she saw Warren Worthington on the other side, wearing nothing but a blue silk bathrobe and with a wineglass in his hand. She thought she'd woken up in the middle of an old Dynasty re-run. Or a very bad nightmare for that matter.

"Worthington!" she practically screeched, just at the same moment that he cried: "Emma Frost!"

"What are you doing here!" they both exclaimed in unison.

There was silence as both viewed the other with mutual dislike and disbelief.

"I think you've got the wrong address," Warren finally spoke coldly.

"Pfft." Emma crossed her arms and glared at him. "More like you're in the wrong apartment. This happens to be my friend's home. Does she know you're partying in her place, or shall I let her know myself?"

Warren stared at her in shock.

"Betsy's your friend?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Have you got a problem with that, Worthington?"

Warren blinked and said nothing. Now that Emma came to think about it, she did remember Betsy mentioning Warren Worthington, though she couldn't remember just why… Then suddenly it dawned on her.

Uh oh. She said she fancied him, you moron! Shit! Don't tell me she hasn't gone and -!

Horror on her face, Emma barged past Warren and into the lounge.

"Where's Betsy?" she shrieked.

Warren shut the door and gave her a nettled look. "She's in the shower. And don't you think it's a bit rude to barge in here uninvited?"

"I'm on Betsy's guest-list 24/7, Worthington. That's what friends are for. Besides," she sneered at him, "isn't it a bit rude to go opening doors on strangers wearing that hideous bathrobe?"

Warren stared down at his flamboyant attire.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked. "I don't recall you ever dressing appropriately for any occasion. Since when are bustiers de rigeur for business meetings?"

Emma was just about to make some really cutting remark about blond mullets when the door behind her opened and in stepped Betsy, glowing in a lacy white gown of her own. When she saw Emma she stopped short, with what could only be described as a doh! expression on her face.

"Oh…uh…Hello, Emma," she greeted her friend with a shamefaced smile. "Long time no see. And…uh…What brings you here?"

"We had a date, incase you forgot," Emma snapped churlishly. "Or am I second-best to Mr. Warren Worthington now?"

The smile faded from Betsy's face as she hastened to explain: "What? Of course not! I…I simply forgot, that's all. And well…to be honest, I figured that with all the time you were spending with Bobby, the night out was canceled anyway." She took in a breath, released it. "I'm sorry, Emma."

"Pfft. What-ever. At least I took the initiative to come here when I could've been all loved up with my man like you so obviously are. And why is he here anyway?" Emma jabbed a finger rudely in Warren's direction. "Don't tell me, Betsy. You're seeing him for real, aren't you? How long has this been going on for without me knowing?"

"Betsy doesn't owe you any explanations," Warren interrupted heatedly, before Betsy could make an answer. "And I do have a name you know, and it's not Worthington. Maybe you could call me by it, if you had any manners."

"Don't you dare talk to me about manners!" Emma spat, scowling at him. "And for your information, Betsy is one of my best friends, so yes, I do think she owes me an explanation!"

"Oh come off it, Emma. Some friend you must be, if she's too scared to tell you that she's got someone who really cares about her in her life."

"Why you little prick, insinuating that I don't care about my -"

"Well, it isn't like you've even come round to see how Betsy's been getting on the past week or -"

"Oh, and I'm sure you've been taking real good care of her, swanning round looking manly in your big blue nightgown you pompous little -"

"Shut up, the both of you!" Betsy suddenly shouted over the top of them both. They paused and Betsy heaved a pent-up sigh of relief before continuing quietly: "Warren's right. I was too scared to tell you the truth, Emma." Emma looked like she was about to protest but Betsy put up a hand quickly to silence her. "And Warren, Emma's right too. I do owe her an explanation." Calmly she turned back to Emma, saying: "Look, Emma… I know you and Warren don't see eye-to-eye, and that's why I didn't want to tell you what's going on. I just thought… well, that you'd go crazy." Emma gave her an offended look and all Betsy could do was shrug and say: "Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

Emma glowered.

"So you thought it'd be better to just keep this from me? As if I wouldn't find out sooner or later?"

"It was wrong of me, I know," Betsy answered sheepishly. "But I'm not asking you to like Warren, Emma. All I'm asking is that you give me a chance to be happy, that you allow me to have what's best for me. Because Warren… he makes me happy, Emma." She passed Warren a smile and he gave a comforting one back. "He makes me feel happier than I've ever been. Surely that has to count for something, Emma? Even if you can't get along, can't you just agree to be civil with one another? At least for me?" She paused and Emma gave a dubious look. Even Warren looked a little skeptical at the suggestion. "Please?" she begged one last time.

Warren looked at Emma. Emma looked at Warren. It was like a standoff from the Wild West. Anyone could tell that they'd willingly have blown one another up with that one glance if they could have. But how could they ignore the heartfelt plea of someone they both loved dearly?

"Well, I guess we could call a truce," Emma conceded through gritted teeth.

"At least a temporary one," Warren added in an equally forced tone.

Betsy stared at their grimacing faces. "Do you promise?" she asked innocently, wanting to ensure she had complete loyalty from both of them. In her heart of hearts she wanted nothing better than to have these two people she loved best become friends. It's a long shot…but it has to happen sometime… All it'll take is a little persuasion…

"I promise," Emma assured her, still through gritted teeth.

"Me too," Warren nodded, refusing to look at Emma.

Betsy clapped her hands and gave a huge sigh of relief.

"Well, that's a relief! Because I was hoping that since you're here, Emma, we could all go out for a drink together. Maybe break the ice a bit, you know? You never know - maybe you guys will actually end up getting along, right? So - whaddaya think?"

Emma and Warren exchanged a look.

"That'd be great." Emma gave a smile so wooden it really looked as if it would've split.

"Yeah - cool idea, Betts," Warren agreed feebly.

"Great!" Betsy grinned. "I'll go get changed!"

Once Betsy was out of the room, the two rivals stared after her in bewilderment.

"Is she out of her freakin' mind?" Emma hissed incredulously.

"I don't know, but this idea reeks," Warren whispered in disgust.

They both glanced at one another helplessly.

"Like hell we're ever going to get along."

-xXx-

It's the final day before the wedding. For the past week or so Jean's been staying at her parents' house getting everything prepared. Mrs. Grey had insisted that Jean do things the old-fashioned way and not see her husband-to-be until the day of the wedding. I'd thought that Jean had given way to her mother's wishes a little too easily, but what do I know? I never had the chance to get this far myself. Heaven knows if Irenie had forced me to do the same thing, I'd've snuck out for a final rendezvous with Cody whether she liked it or not.

Tonight I'd gone to the Grey's residence to help out with the last minute preparations. Mrs. Grey was happy to see me as usual, smothering me with homemade cookies and cakes and God knows what else, bless her soul. Mr. Grey looked none to pleased that he was losing his little princess to someone who wasn't worthy of her – but then again, from his point of view, no one was. Jean's elder sister, Sarah, was giving advice on everything from joint bank accounts to kitchen utensils to honeymoons. In the middle of it all, Jean was looking rather woebegone. I didn't know whether to put this down to last-minute jitters or something else. It took an hour before we finally managed to break away from the loving family and escape to Jean's old bedroom.

"So, Jeannie," I ask, once Jean's locked the door just like she'd used to back in the day when we were schoolgirls, "how're yah feelin' about t'morrow?"

"I think I'm gonna barf," Jean replies dolefully. I laugh.

"Dontcha worry none, sugah. Everyone feels like that the night before. Once y'all are up an' walkin' down the aisle, you'll be fine."

Jean half turns and runs a hand down the front of her beautiful silk bridal gown that's hanging on her wardrobe door, her expression unconvinced.

"Yeah…" she sighs dubiously.

"Hey," I take her by the shoulders and look her worriedly in the eye. "You're not really going t'barf, are yah? Yah ain't really that nervous?"

A smile cracks her face and she finally manages a laugh.

"Of course I'm not going to barf, silly!" She grins. "I'm fine. I'm just curious about you, Rogue. The past week or so you've been going around looking miserable. Now you're smiling like you know some juicy secret Emma's told you. So come on then – when are you going to let me in on it?"

Oh right. Here I was thinking I was going to pump a little information out of her, and she goes and turns the darn table onto me. And I fall right into her trap. Just thinking about my little 'conversation' with Remy this morning makes my smile widen and my cheeks flush. When I think of how he'd held me in his arms and told me he still wanted me…

"Well, it ain't really a secret…" I finally reply. "It ain't really nothin' at all… But now that yah mention it, Ah do have a little favor to ask of yah."

"Me?" She looks curious. "What?"

"Well, Ah invited someone to the reception tomorrow, and Ah was wonderin' whether that was okay with you and Scott. Ah didn't want to intrude or anythin', but…well, come t' think of it, Ah wasn't quite thinkin' straight at the time and Ah wasn't thinkin' about you or Scott at all…"

"Anna, you've got me intrigued here. Who've you invited? Are you seeing someone?"

"Well, not yet…" I blurt, still feeling embarrassed though I have no idea why.

"Rogue, you're blushing." She grins and raises an eyebrow. "It's Remy LeBeau, isn't it."

The fact that I'm blushing more furiously than ever says it all.

"Ah hope yah don't mind…" I say.

The smile that fills Jean's face is so wide I'm afraid it might break her face. "Of course I don't mind!" she exclaims.

I look up at her dubiously. "Yah sure?"

"Rogue," she reassures me, "you care for the guy. Anyone with two eyes in their head could see it a mile away. Of course I don't mind. Besides," and she gave a wicked smirk, "I simply can't wait to finally meet this man. Emma gave him a most glowing report, and you know what it takes to get a glowing report for anyone out of her."

"Emma?" I'm shocked and confused. Jean grins and turns to pack away her veil, which has been left lying on the dressing table.

"She's the one who told him you were in Mississippi the other week," she explains.

"Oh," I say. I don't want to be reminded of what happened back in Caldecott. Jean sees my look and gives me a sympathetic smile. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks softly. I slump onto the end of her bed and cast my gaze down at the floor.

"Nah…nothin' much t' say really… Ah just said some pretty cruel things to Remy, that's all." I sigh regretfully, shamefaced.

"Really?" Jean sits down next to me. "From the way you made things sound when you came back, he was the one who was being out of order."

"No," I'm abashed to admit, "it was all me. Ah was selfish, Jean. He…he told meh he loved me and… well, Ah told him he didn't know what love meant."

Jean's eyes go wide. "He said that to you?"

I nod. "Yup."

"Oh." She was silent a moment. "So…You think he meant it?"

I shrug. "Ah think so. At least he believes it."

"Then why should you doubt it?"

"Ah don't know. Ah just…Ah'm just scared Ah guess." I chew on my lip, continue: "That's why Ah've asked him to the reception tomorrow. Ah want t' sort this out between us as soon as Ah possibly can. Ah just can't wait another moment without –"

I pause and Jean stares at me.

"Without what?"

I lower my face, my cheeks burning.

"Without knowin' if he still resents me for what Ah said. Without knowin' if he still thinks Ah'm worth his time." I take a deep breath and add: "Without him, period." I raise my eyes to Jean's and she looks at me wordlessly, waiting for me to continue. "Ah'm ready to start again, Jean," I confess. "Ah really think Ah am this time."

"With him?" she asks gently.

"Ah hope so."

We both fall into silence and for the first time I realize how nervous I am about tomorrow. If he rejects meh, Ah don't know what Ah'll do…even if Ah know Ah deserve it…

"So," Jean questions, seeing my dismal expression, "Emma's glowing report wasn't far off then? He really is to die for?" I look up at her and see an impish grin on her lips, which immediately coaxes me out of my downcast mood. I can't help but chuckle, relieved that I can finally talk to someone about this without them wanting to crawl all over my personal life.

"He sure is," I agree with a wistful smile. "And then some. He's gorgeous and sexy and smart and funny… And has the most amazin' body… Not to mention he's one fine kisser…"

"And in bed…?"

I don't even blush. "And in bed…" I bite my lip and act coy, "…Let's just say it was the best sex Ah ever had."

Jean cocks an eyebrow and can't resist probing for more. "You mean…?"

"Ah mean this guy likes t' take his time…"

"You mean as in multiple-orgasms-likes-to-take-his-time?"

I say nothing and try not to look too smug. She's the one to burst into laughter first and a few seconds later we're rolling around the bed like teenage schoolgirls at a sleepover all over again.

All of a sudden I can't wait for tomorrow to finally come.

-oOo-

To be continued...