Disclaimers of Various Shapes and Sizes: Only the story idea is vaguely mine. To my knowledge both 'My Foolish Heart' and 'A Fine Romance' have entered into common domain. But either way, I'm just quotin' 'em, I don't own 'em. Bablefish is my French tutor. Blame it.

Oh, just in case anyone's wondering, in this fic Rogue's 22 and Remy's 25/26.

Chapter two: Frustration and All that Jazz

Rogue had decided long ago that the worst thing about her job was the hours. Not that she really objected to losing sleep when it was for a good reason, or even that she required too much sleep--she had long since been trained to make due for a week on only eleven hours. But it was the randomness of when she was required to wake up that drove her nuts. At the start of one assignment, she might not have to begin the meeting protocol until noon, others required her to be up before dawn. It was irritating, to say the least; never giving her a chance to form a routine and maintain control. And if there was one thing Rogue strove for in her life, it was control.

So she cheated. When she had gotten back to her hotel room at around 12:15 in the morning, she automatically scanned the room to make sure all was as it should be. Then she stripped, stepped into the shower, and was out in less than five minutes. Before going to sleep she attached a small device to her cell phone. Nifty gadgets are one of the best things about mah job. She had commissioned this particular device in payment of a favor and no one knew about it. She didn't know how it worked and wasn't sure she wanted to, but somehow it would ring her cell phone a half hour before it received its next call.

Ah love that thing, she thought as she settled into her hotel bed. Her mind was still racing and analyzing what had happened at the club. Her unfamiliar surroundings echoed around in her head demanding that she remain alert. But Rogue's will was stronger than her desires; it had to be. So she took a few deep breaths and forced herself to sleep.

A tinsely dinging woke her. Rogue moaned and picked up her phone. 4:00. That means Bishop. Sadist. Ah know he won't call the meeting 'til nine. But can he give a gal a wake up call at seven? Nooo.

She yawned and arched her back.

Lumbering out of the bed, she began a routine of morning stretches. Five minutes later, she splashed some water on her face, then sat crossed legged on the floor by the foot of her bed.

She closed her eyes and entered her mind. She pictured it as an empty room, just like the one where they held training sessions at the base. With a thought, she conjured up a door in the metallic wall. Let's see, who wants ta make trouble today?

She peaked through the door to the part of her mind where she stored 'her' psyches. Usually after sleeping one of them was banging to get out. Its intentions depended both on how much effort she had spent on the psyche before and her original relationship with the person she had absorbed.

To her surprise, there was no one at the door. She briefly considered bringing one out and working on breaking down the personality into mental files anyway, but reconsidered. It was better to wait until she had more time and the opportunity to give the task her undivided effort and attention. Having their powers and information readily accessible (not to mention the fact that once they were fully 'stored' they couldn't invade her mind anymore) was well worth the time and effort. But analyzing and storing the information and powers that the psyches gave her, an act that she titled 'reabsorbtion,' was a delicate task. And even though the psyches weren't giving her any trouble this morning, there was a maelstrom of memories that were demanding her attention. She turned to the glowing mass of color and stepped into it, letting the memories flicker over her awareness.

His eyes…wandering over her body, staring into hers. Laughing, mocking, intriguing yet somehow decidedly wrong--incomplete, misplaced--there is something missing from his eyes.

His scent…tobacco and spices with a hint of something she could only qualify as 'danger.' Rogue liked danger…

His hands…reaching to touch her, leading her to dance, sliding over her body…picking her pocket.

Rogue snickered, her humor chasing away the flashing sensations. He was very good at picking pockets. If she didn't have a pin sticking out of her wallet for just such an occasion, Rogue wasn't sure if she would have even noticed. The fact that she would almost not notice someone touching her said so much for his skills that she had gone to rather…dramatic lengths to ensure that he wouldn't feel it when she took it back. For some reason, she had wanted to keep the fact that he had stolen her wallet unknown; she just wanted it back with as little fuss as possible. Something told her that he wasn't interested in her money…

She had been surprised at the extent of his attraction to her when she fell against him. But she was even more surprised that seeing it caused an all-too-familiar ache to return in full force. She had wanted to be able to give him what he wanted.

That was why she had really meant her apology. She had stirred him up, and she could never, ever fulfill that longing for him. And she knew the pain of unfulfilled longing.

That was why she had left the rose petal. The touch of death. It makes any relationship more interesting. He would never have her.

Yeah, but he'll be able ta touch the next pretty 'fille' that comes along. He'll call her 'chere' and 'cherie' and she'll giggle ingratiatingly and he'll touch her. Get over it, Rogue. He's not the type ta pine away for something he can't have. And if ya maybe possibly definitely want him too, get over that. Cause even if the impossible was possible, one night stands just ain't yer style. He's just some guy. Move on.

Somewhere outside of her mind her phone was ringing. That'll be about meeting for the mission briefing.

Leaving her memories firmly filed where they belonged, Rogue answered the phone in a voice that she made husky, as if waking from sleep, "What d'ya want?"

"Rogue?"

"Who else would it be?" she sounded annoyed, and she was.

"At seven o'clock, go to Kingsley Park. Walk northeast and you'll see a man with a motorcycle. Get on. He'll take you to the checkpoint."

Rogue blinked. "Ha ha. Very funny."

"I'm serious, Rogue."

"That is the most idiotic procedure Ah have ever heard of. An' you've been in charge of at least a dozen missions already."

"It's to ensure secrecy and security."

"An' if there's more than one man on a motorcycle in the whole northeast area of Kinsley Park?" Rogue thought that she was being very generous in only pointing out one flaw in this half-assed 'procedure.'

Not even a moment's hesitation, "Are you questioning orders, Rogue?"

"Hell yeah! 'Rogue,' remember? Are ya juss tryin' ta git meh in trouble?"

"Now why would I do that?"

Rogue forced herself to calm down. The thickening of her accent when she was angry was one tell that she had not been able to get rid of, and Bishop knew that all too well. "Ya know that Ah don't work this way. If ya want me ta be part of this op so badly, y'all can give me a call with a real entrance procedure." She hung up and glared at the phone.

She wanted to scream. Ever since he had joined the team seven months ago, Bishop had constantly been attempting to ruin the relationships that she had spent years establishing. Sure, Carol was too smart to fall for his crap, but for some unknown reason Tessa had fallen head-over-heals for the jerk.

No, she didn't want to scream. She wanted Bishop in the room with her right now and to not have to worry about the consequences if she smashed his face in.

Not following the first given contact-point would piss Tessa off. And that was exactly why Bishop had done it. He knew that she didn't work without all of the information. Rogue even thought that a part of him respected that. She knew that he valued her work. But he was still systematically attempting to wreck her friendships on the team. Rogue didn't have so many friends that she was willing to let that slide. Bishop was an enigma, and not the good kind.

She stared at the walls around her. Suddenly, the room was too small, too confining, and she knew that if she stayed here she'd be punching holes through the thin walls. Not the best way ta remain incognito. She had to get out of there.

She quickly slipped into spandex running pants with a purple stripe down the side and a baggy purple sweatshirt. Rogue pulled her hair back in a ponytail, not bothering to attempt to bring back the white streaks that always insisted on framing her face no matter what she did, and slipped on her gloves. She double-tied the laces on her running shoes and grabbed her MP3 player and cell phone, and slipping her key in her waistline she was out the door before she had even made up her mind to go running.

It was pre-dawn and her breath came out in visible puffs. Relying on her mental map of the city, she found herself running towards Kingsley Park. She wasn't following the "procedure." No way in hell. But she remembered that there was a small hill in the park and she could be alone and watch the sunrise from there. Plus, the fifteen miles of running would be just what she needed to cool off.

Thump, thump, thump. Patter, patter, patter. The sound of her feet on the pavement and the beating of her heart created a counterpoint rhythm that only aggravated her still stirred emotions.

Why is he gettin' ta me like this? she thought as she approached the park. Rogue vaulted over the fence easily. The steady run had only exacerbated her irritation. What she wanted was a real workout, a sprint, or an extra long and brutal training session. At least be honest with yourself. What ya want is ta beat the stuffing out o' Bishop. But that ain't what you're gonna get. So calm down. If running it out didn't work, try something else.

Rogue checked her time. 6:12. The sun would be coming up soon.

She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing. When she opened them, she saw the park with fresh eyes. Pre-dawn light was a ghosty rose that teased color into the leaves and branches. The air was still. Rogue decided that she would walk up to the hill slowly and drink in the beauty around her.

She felt her MP3 player banging against her body and gave a small smile. She took it out and slid on the earphones, paging through to find some relaxing music. Rogue turned the volume up loud. She didn't usually listen to music as she walked, preferring to remain more aware of her environment. If the earphones were on, then it was for appearance's sake. But now, despite her decision to try to calm down peacefully, she still hoped that someone would try something stupid. She could use an outlet for her frustration.

XXXXXXXX

Remy LeBeau was frustrated. This was not a feeling that he often encountered. Usually anything that he wanted badly enough to exert the effort to attain, he could achieve without much effort. Especially when it came to women. That was why he loved the heist so much--sure, getting the prize was unqualified satisfaction, but it was the process of getting there, the challenge itself that thrilled him. A master thief at an unprecedented young age, Remy dove into the puzzle and challenge of stealing like a fish to water. He lived and breathed the challenge--and he always got his mark. So why was he frustrated? Dis isn't about a job. It's about a femme. Remy hadn't felt frustration over a woman in a long, long time. At first he had enjoyed the novel sensation. But now he was just frustrated.

She had disappeared. In only eight minutes the belle had left the streets without a trace.

And he didn't know enough about her to find her. He didn't know if she lived in the city, was visiting a friend, or was just passing through. The fact that she had come to the club alone made him suspect that she wasn't visiting anyone in town. After all, who would know such a belle femme and let her come t' de club alone? But the fact that she had shown up at The Devil's Dare led him to believe that she knew the city better than the average visitor. The club had been built according to his specifications, and any time he was in the area he made a point to visit. The locals loved the place--couldn't get enough of it--but it was well off the beaten track of usual clubs as it was located in the warehouse district.

The femme was an enigma, right down to her name. Rogue.

Rogue. He rolled the name around in his mind, enjoying the taste of it.

He had gone to all the main hotels and asked if they had a woman matching Rogue's description staying with them. Thanks to his description, a couple of clerks had been very interested, but none were able to help.

So he returned to his apartment and checked his only other clue. "Black rose petal" appeared 215,000 times in a Google search. After clicking through news articles for hours, the only relevant information he could find was in symbolism: loss, death, and mystery. He could have guessed that. So he wrote a program to search through government sources. After all, de femme did pick Remy's pocket. Maybe she be a t'ief too, neh? Even t'ough…de chances of me never hearin' of a t'ief like her…dat's a bet I wouldn't take. Remy was almost tempted to get Lapin on the phone and have him do it. But Emil was working on a diamond heist with Henri. Remy wasn't sure that he'd be willing to switch over to searching for emeralds, especially since Remy wasn't interested in sharing.

His program might take a while to find it, but any relevant information would be found. That was the important thing.

In de meantime, anticipation is half de fun. Remy was sure that Rogue probably wasn't as attractive as he remembered. After all, they had been in a club with low lighting. He had only spoken to her for maybe 15-20 minutes, max. Never mind all dat time y' spent watchin' her dance…

He would find her, he had no doubt about that. And then he'd smile at her and she'd fall in his hand like a ripe plumb. Never mind dat y' practically had t' beg her t' dance wit' y'.

Remy smiled at the memory of the conversation last night. When he had gone to the DJ to get him to change to the tango, he had been irritated. The fille had gotten under his skin. Pinning his accent, refusing to swoon, challenging him to come up with a better reason then his smile and pout in order to honor him with a dance. He had wanted to challenge her right back with that tango. He had a sneaking suspicion that she would be able to dance well, but he didn't care if she didn't. Having her clinging to him in embarrassment, giving him the opportunity to hold her close and whisper a quiet taunt in her ear would have been just as satisfying. But she had shown him fire and passion in her dance. She matched his every move and upped the challenge.

Seducing her would be simple. A couple honeyed words in her ear, some expensive gifts. A dress, maybe, to wear dancing. He could tell that she loved to dance. One night on the town with him and she would be his. Never mind dat she walked away after one dance.

Gambit loved women. As distractions, playthings. They were fun to have around. He respected them, never forcing one, even defending them if necessary and convenient. If they wanted to repay them with their companionship, he would welcome it. If beautiful women found him appealing and wanted to be with him, who was he to deny them? Rogue was a woman just like any other. Sure, she was intelligent and beautiful. That only made being with her more fun. He would break into her heart like a well-guarded museum, enjoy the challenge while it lasted, and then leave after a short time of mutual appreciation. All he had to do was get past the security. Never mind dat she dances alone wit' her eyes closed.

Once he finally got her, he would probably be disappointed.

Never mind dat she wouldn't let me kiss her.

Hell, he was frustrated.

He glanced at the clock. 5:15. He glanced at the king-sized four post bed and sighed. He was too frustrated to sleep.

He needed to get out of his apartment. He glanced down at his worn blue jeans then got up and splashed some water on his face. Throwing on a white wife beater and his old trench coat, Remy grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and left. He knew just where to go.

It was around 5:30 when he pulled his bike to a stop at the northeast entrance of Kingsley Park. Remy stalked over towards the hill that overlooked the east of the city. He would watch the sunrise from there.

Sitting on the crest of the hill, Remy lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. On de upside, at least Remy's not bored anymore. De last heist from de British Museum was over so quickly. Dey really should get better security on dat place. Jean Luc wanted to start bringing up some of the kids into bigger jobs. Henri wanted to be in charge of the training. Remy wanted to help--but he had made too big a name for himself. His father was using 'training wit' de Diable Blanc' as an incentive. To get a very bored Remy out of his hair, Jean Luc had told him to take a vacation. So he had ended up here. This city used to be one of his favorite haunts, but he hadn't been back in years. And now…now he took another deep drag of his cigarette, Now at least y' ain't bored anymore.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there in the pre dawn stillness, with only the chattering of the birds for company. But before he heard any approaching footsteps, he heard a low, husky, surprisingly pleasant voice crooning out one of his favorite jazz songs.

Dat be de Carmen McCrae version. Quick as thought, Remy doused his cigarette and disappeared up a tree to see who was approaching.

"…take care, my foolish heart. There's a line between love and fascination that's so hard to see on an evening such as this. For they both give the very same sensation when you're lost in the magic of a kiss…"

It's her. Remy's heart thudded in his chest as Rogue stepped slowly to the crest of the hill. She was lost in her melody, singing softly, not paying any undue attention to her surroundings. He watched her as if she had just stepped out a dream. She was wearing grubby workout clothes, and it was obvious she had just come from a run. How does she make such plain clothes look so good? He watched her walk; her movements, the light sway of her hips, were mesmerizing as she walked total lack of self-consciousness.

Rogue stopped walking and dipped her head down to smell a late-blooming flower, still singing.

"His lips are much too close ta mine. Take care, mah foolish heart." She moved to the top of the hill and sat down.

Remy was out of the tree before he even knew to think it. He crept slowly up behind her as she continued to sing. "But should our eager lips combine, then let the fires--"

"Y' singin' about Remy, chere?" he said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Before he knew it, she had grabbed his hand and flipped him onto the ground in front of her, her knee pinning his chest to the ground. One hand secured both of his to the ground behind his head while the other poised to strike his throat.

Remy gulped. Wasn't expecting dat.

Rogue's eyes widened in recognition, then she burst out shouting, "Ya stupid swamp rat! Didn't anyone ever tell ya not ta sneak up on a gal?"

"Much as Remy 'ppreciates yer enthusiasm, chere, don' ya t'ink jumpin' him like dis is a bit sudden? After all, ya didn't tell Remy yer proper name yet."

Rogue hadn't shifted her position while he was speaking, she remained on guard. De mark of a professional, he noted. But he knew her name was a touchy spot with her and he played the card. She tensed for a brief second, hesitating, he was sure, only to decide if she wanted to hurt him or yell at him. But he was a professional too, and that hesitation was all he needed to wrap both his legs around her waist and flip her backwards, reversing their situation.

He straddled Rogue's sides with his legs and pinned her arms behind her head with his hands.

Remy couldn't help but leer at their new position and he opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a solid "Oomph!" as Rogue had not waited to hear his intentions. She kneed him in the gut, immediately following through by a sharp kick with the heal of her other foot that had enough force behind it to propel him off of her.

Remy was instantly on his feet.

But Rogue was crouched in a defensive position several feet away.

He made to move towards her, but stopped when she spoke.

"Ah've been itchin' all mornin' for a good fight, Swamp rat. Come any closer an' ya'll be givin' meh the perfect excuse."

Remy's eyes flashed at the challenge, and he almost started towards her. Gambit is curious t' see what de femme can do… Den again, fightin' wit' de fille isn't exactly de kind of contact he's been wantin', neh? "What's the matter, cherie? Had a rough time sleepin' last night?"

Rogue snorted, relaxing her stance slightly. "Hardly. It was this mornin' that sucked."

He spread out his hands, indicating the world around them. "It barely be mornin', chere."

Rogue shrugged, "Ah have inconsiderate friends. What about ya, Swamp rat? What are ya doin' up this early?"

Remy pouted, "Remy didn't get t' sleep at all. He couldn't get dis fille out of his head, vous savez?"

Rogue smirked and spoke so softly Remy wasn't sure that he had heard her, "More than ya will ever know."

"Mais oui, of course y' know. After all, weren't y' just singin' about Remy?"

Rogue gave a saccharine smile, "Sugah, if Ah was gonna sing about ya, it would be more along the lines of 'A Fine Romance.'"

Remy took two quick strides to stand close to her and he murmured, "Remy'll let ya 'muss de crease in his blue serge pants.'"

Rogue smirked up at him, "Ah still 'prefer cactus plants.'"

He was waiting for the punch, and she did not disappoint him. It stung his hand through his glove when he caught it. He held her fist inches from his jaw.

"It be too early t' do dis dance, chere," he said.

"Then why'd ya start the music?"

"Mebbe Remy just wanted t' see if ya'd take the first step."

"Now ya know. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Remy smiled and shifted his grip on her fist so that he had her by the wrist. "We'll talk about dat later. D'ya come to watch the sunrise, cherie?"

Rogue nodded, her eyes narrowing.

"Wouldn't want ya t' miss it," he said, and led her by her wrist back up the cliff. He knew that she could have reclaimed it and was a little surprised that she didn't fight him.

They stood side by side for a moment, watching the sun peek over the horizon. Her gloved fingers were almost gentle when they pried his fingers from her wrist. De least violent way t' make Remy let go wit'out askin' him.

Rogue sat down cross legged on the hill, leaving him to stand alone.

She doesn't want to make a scene, but she doesn't want t' share dis wit' me. Why? Remy pulled out a cigarette and risked lighting it with his powers in front of her. After all, her attention was solely focused on the sun.

There was a short silence between them.

"Starin' at de sun will blind y', ya know."

"An' Ah heard cigarettes lead t' cancer," she responded without looking at him.

"Lies, all of dem," Remy brushed off her comment and sat down adjacent to her, angling himself for the best view. He studied the smooth curves of her face, memorized the way her long lashes curled without the aid of any mascara, and tried to qualify exactly what it was that made her eyes shimmer in a way more alluring than diamonds.

He could tell that she felt his gaze on her by a barely perceptible tensing of her shoulders. Remy fought the urge to trail his gaze down her back. When she turned and looked at him, he wanted her to see him staring at her eyes.

She held out thirty seconds longer than he thought she would, and when she finally turned to him, he sensed that it was because she didn't want him looking at her more than her desire to look at him.

Dis fille keeps getting more and more intriguing.

But when she turned, he caught her with his eyes. And for a moment, she stayed in his gaze. She looked at his cheeks, focused on his lips long enough to get his heart pattering, and then stared at his eyes. She shook her head slightly, and frowned.

What's dis? "Dat's de t'ird time y' did dat, chere."

Her features quickly shifted to an expression of bemused innocence. "Huh?"

"Dat's de t'ird time ya've looked at Remy's eyes and frowned. Why is dat, chere? Y' don' like brown?"

Rogue blinked and looked down for a moment. Then she sighed and looked up at him, her eyebrows drawn together slightly as if to say, Why the hell not? "Ya're not gonna like the answer."

Remy smirked, "Try Remy." What does dis fille know?

After a delicate raise of her eyebrow at the obvious innuendo, Rogue continued. "All right. Ah've always looked ta eyes ta provide insight on a person. "Windows ta the soul," right? Well, ya eyes…they just don't fit ya, Remy. Ah don't know why. An' Ah'm usually a pretty good judge o' these things. So Ah guess Ah'm frustrated about it--after all, it's not like you've changed your eyes, right?"

Remy's eyes make her uncomfortable because dey are not his eyes. He had to take a moment to digest that.

It must have been a longer moment then he thought. Because Rogue actually moved closer to him and spoke with concern, "Ah haven't upset ya, have Ah?"

She moved closer because she thought he was upset. Would she run if she knew de truth? Hell, LeBeau, she's runnin' now. Look at de tense line of her back! She's ready to jump up an' disappear again wit'out lookin' back... Maybe if ya show her dat ya 'trust' her, if ya make yourself 'vulnerable'…

"Non, cherie," Remy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Remy just don' t'ink y'll like de answer t' your question. Mes yeux have haunted Remy his whole life."

Rogue's eyebrows drew together. "Why?" she whispered and tilted her head to the side.

I wonder if she knows how seductive dat is? Remy used all of his self control to remain solemn and keep his attention away from Rogue's lips.

Suddenly he wondered what would happen if she rejected him after seeing his eyes. After all, she walked away before, once she sees dat I have demon eyes, what's to keep her from shrieking and runnin' away? He wondered if her rejection would actually…hurt.

She's just une fille. Why should I care? B'sides, I don't t'ink Rogue's de shrieking kind…'m gonna hafta work on changin' dat...

"Dey said…dey said dat I had de eyes o' de Devil," he whispered back, wondering if the crack in his voice was actually…authentic? And he reached up to his earring and pulled out the stub in the back.

Rogue drew in a sharp breath.

Here it comes. Let's see if dis worked…

"That's…much better."

And then she smiled.

Remy smiled back. Gambit wins again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Red on black…fitting for a man who's scent screams 'danger.'

Flicker-pulse. Flicker-pulse. They glow. Hiding as much as they reveal.

Beautiful…he had been gorgeous before, but now…these truly are his eyes.

Rogue became aware that he was waiting for her to say something. "That's…much better," she said, and hoped that her words didn't reveal her sharp regret. Red as lust, black as death…fitting. Give into lust with him once, and he'll be dead.

So she smiled and hid again.

He smiled back, the sharp grin of a predator. Oh crap. He thinks he has me. Was this just a game? No…the pain is real…the eyes are real…aww, hell, why am Ah wasting mah time here?

"Ya're not scared, chere?"

Yeah, Ah'm scared that if Ah sit here with ya for one more minute, Ah'll do something we'll both regret. "Why would Ah be? They're beautiful."

A real grin this time, "Merci, cherie."

Idiot! What the hell are ya doin', Rogue? Don't make him feel bettah. Get him outta here before he gets hurt!

"So…Ah'm guessin' you're a mutant?"

"Oui," he was still grinning. His eyes were running over her face, drawing her closer to him.

Oh, Ah know just what will push a touch-addict like him away.

"Meh too," Rogue whispered. "What are your powers?"

His eyes, his beautiful eyes widened. Why did Ah make him take off his mask? Ah never shoulda given him a weapon against meh. An' did I tell him Ah thought his eyes were pretty? I must have lost mah mind.

"You're a mutant?" he said.

Rogue gave a little half smile and shrugged.

"What's your power?"

Rogue laughed, Ah might as well enjoy this. As soon as he knows, he's gone. "Uh-uh, sugah. Ah asked ya first."

Remy pouted, but suddenly there was a deck of cards in his hands. He shuffled them expertly and then held them out to her. "Pick a card, any card."

Gamely, Rogue pulled out a card and handed it to him.

"De ace of spades. Not bad, chere. Remy just a bit surprised dat ya didn't pull out de Queen of Hearts." The deck disappeared into his trench coat and he held out the face of the ace towards her. He waggled his eyebrows at her and spoke in a lecturing tone, "Remy can take de latent energy of an object and make it kinetic." He spoke, pink light flooded the card, "He charges up de molecules for as long as he hold onto de object, den when he lets go," he threw the card in the air above them, "it explodes."

And it did.

Impressive.

Rogue raised her eyebrows, "So in other words, ya make things go boom."

Remy winked, "Oui. All sorts of t'ings."

Rogue smirked, "Not too bad, Swamp rat."

"Oh, an' yours is better?"

Rogue's heart suddenly constricted, and she looked down at her gloved hands. Gawd, Ah hate this part. "Nah. When Ah touch someone skin ta skin…a piece of them gets copied into me. Their thoughts, memories, skills… their powers too, if they're mutants. And then they just stay like that…a copy of them inside of me…a sliver of their souls. The longer Ah touch 'em, the more of 'em Ah get. If a hang on too long, they could die. An' Ah can't control it."

Rogue waited for it. Waited for him to say something horrified. Waited for him to yell at her for existing. Waited for him to get up and walk away, and if he spoke to her at all it would be to say that he had better things to do.

He didn't say anything. The silence stretched on for a long time. Rogue could feel his eyes burning into her.

Why doesn't he say something, damnit!

She wanted to look up at him. But she didn't want to see horror in his eyes, even though that was why she had made a point of telling him. She wanted him to go away and leave her alone. Teasing and flirting were fine and fun, but he had to go and up the odds and show her his eyes. No, it was better this way.

Slowly, his hand came into view. He was moving cautiously, so as not to startle her. He took one of her gloved hands in his, "Is dat why ya wear de gloves, chere?"

That was the last thing she thought he would say, and reaching out and touching her still… Rogue looked up in his eyes, and nodded.

"Y' are so brave, Rogue," he spoke huskily, his eyes embracing her.

Her name off his lips was like ambrosia. His acceptance of her mutation like a soothing balm on an open wound.

Damn, she thought. She closed her eyes.

XXXXXXXXXX

'Ah can't control it.' Her words echoed in his head. That was the last thing he thought she would say. Merde. She can't touch. A quick flash of disappointment was followed by excitement. Talk about your security system!

He waited for her to look up at him and when she didn't, he was forced to consider the passionate femme in front of him. Must be hell for her, t' not be able t' touch. He extended his empathy towards her, and felt anger, acceptance, guilt, self-loathing…Guilt? Self-loathing? Doesn't she know it ain't her fault?

But he knew that the last thing she would want was his pity. He noticed what she was staring at. Her gloved hands. The way that she protected the world from herself.

But who protects y', Rogue? Ya keep yourself locked up, when do ya get t' be y'?

She still hadn't looked at him. He was beginning to get impatient.

She t'inks Remy's gonna walk away! he suddenly realized. She told me all dis t' try an' get me t' leave her alone!

He had to choke back a laugh. She didn't know it'd be like waving a flag in front of a bull. Poor chere. Time t' show ya dere's always a way around de security.

He slowly stretched out a hand to grab hers. Even though they were both wearing gloves, he felt her unconscious start at his touch. "Is dat why ya wear gloves, chere?"

She nodded, and looked up at him. Her eyes were wide with surprise and swimming with so much pain that it hit him like a fist. He quickly put the clamps down on his empathy. Merde. "Y' are so brave, Rogue." He meant every word.

AN: All right, here it is. I didn't really want to end the chapter here, but thinks were just about to get all stirred up again and I thought this was long enough. I hope you guys don't mind the overlapping views. It just sort of wrote itself that way. A brief note: I've selected seven special mutants to work on Rogue's gov sponsored team (if anyone has any suggestions for names for that team, let me know. So far I'm working with 'FORCE,' but I ain't that happy with it). There are reasons behind each of them being there. You'll meet her team in the next chapter.
Note: Lapin is Emil's nickname. It means rabbit.

Also, I am going away to North Carolina next week, and I don't know about the internet availability. I'll be bringing my laptop and probably working on this story, and I've got some great chapters already written--sadly, the plot has not taken us there yet. But we'll get there! So, just a head's up about that…

Oh, an important question. Can anyone tell me how to go back and edit a chapter once it's been posted online without erasing the whole thing? I read over 'What's the harm in one dance' and want to fix a few things…

Review Responses:

Cat2fat900: Yay! My first review! Forever you have a special place in my heart--even though you offered me Pepsi. (If forced to drink soda, I'm a Coke girl ;)). I'm glad you had that reaction too. I didn't even realize that I had set myself up for that until after I reread the chapter. Hope you liked this one too!

Kitrazzle Fayn: Aww, you're so sweet! I can't tell you how much your review encouraged me. And pressured me! If it's official this soon in the game, I only hope I don't let you down!

Coldqueen: I hope this was soon enough for you. Glad you liked it!

Ishandahalf: Thanks for your review! I'm glad you're liking this story. As for 'darkness' yeah, I'm trying to give it a sort of edgey feel. I'm glad it's working. And Rogue…ya know, most of my thoughts of her were formed from the 90s cartoon. She flirted right back and didn't take any crap, but she wouldn't let Gambit get close because she didn't want to hurt him. So the way I'm working with her right now plays into that a little. I don't like it when she's made helpless and afraid. She's had some time now to adjust to her powers, and she's willing to let others know what it's like not to have something that they crave…some of the time, anyway. She wouldn't be Rogue if she wasn't conflicted. I know that this wasn't bunny-on-crack quickness, and I have very little faith in this chapter, but I hope that you like it anyway.

ChicaDeLosOjosCafe: Thank you for your kind review:0) Hope you like this one.

IISGREAT: Yes, there will be Romy. They might have to go through some twists to get there, but there will most definitely be Romy.

Encantedlight: Glad you liked it! Hope you like the update.