SORRY! So I know it's just excuses, but I have had so much to do with finals, work, and stuff lately, so I haven't had time to write. To show how sorry I am, this is another long chapter, 2000 plus words. Again, I'm sorry and thanks to you for hanging in and reviewing!

-Chapter Eighteen-

- Heart-to-Hearts -

"Remind me 'gain why 'm doin' dis?" Pleaded Remy while tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

"You are being a good friend," Piotr answered from across the room.

"And," Pipe up John, "ya fancy her."

Remy turned and stared at the Australian for his seemingly random comment. "What?"

"Ya. Fancy. Rogue."

"Fancy?"

"Like. Love. Have a crush on. Whatever."

"But- . . .I mean- . . . I like her, but not like dat! We're best friends."

"That's how it always starts . . ."

"Y' so full o' shit, John. Y' know dat?" The Cajun turned towards his other roommate. "Y' don' t'ink I like Rogue, do y'?"

Piotr blushed. "Well, there is a level of closeness between you that one could misconstrue as-"

"I don' believe dis!"

"Don't believe what?"

Remy turned to Wanda, who was standing in the doorway. "Not'in'. Jus' y' boyfriend's usual psychotic ravin's." He replied coolly.

The girl raised a questioning eyebrow. "If you say so. Rogue and Kurt are waiting downstairs. Rogue's getting antsy, threatening bodily harm."

"'Kay. T'anks." Shooting St. John a warning look, he hurried down to meet his companions.

As he rounded the corner into the foyer, he froze in his tracks. Rogue was wearing a sweater that dipped slightly in the front, hugging her curves nicely and a skirt that flowed out around mid-calf. Her hair was pulled up, soft curls framing her face. Merde, she's hot! Wait, what? I can't be t'inkin' m' best friend's hot.

Seeing his shocked expression, Rogue grimaced. "I know. Its so . . . girly. Once Kitty found out I was s'pposed ta dress up, there was no stoppin' her."

"Yeah . . . girly." He tried to ignore the strange fluttering in his stomach and Pyro's comment reverberating in his head.

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To say dinner was awkward would be an understatement. Remy didn't know which to feel more uneasy about: the open hostility between Rogue and the woman he used to see as a psuedo-mother while his own was off doing who-knows-what or the probing question that the woman was asking about his life after Baton Rouge.

"So Remy, what does your father do for a living, exactly?" Okay, maybe the questions were worse.

Oh, he on'y runs one o' de most infamous band o' t'ieves in de world. "It's . . . a fam'ly business kinda t'ing. Y' know, passed down fr'm father t' son f'r generations."

"Oh, are you planning on running the business when your older?"

Yeah, right after de kill me f'r comin' back t' Nawlins. "No, de . . . company would prefer m' older brother, Henri, t' take over. Y' know, bein' blood an' all."

Raven's eyes lit up. "An older brother? Wow, you and Rogue keep getting more in common as the years go by!" She said, placing a mother hand on Kurt and Rogue's shoulders.

Rogue sneered in her mother's direction. "Yeah, but Remy had a good reason for not knowin' his brother 'til he got older." That hostility was definitely giving Raven's curiosity a run for it's money.

Raven clenched and unclenched her jaw a few times before turning towards her daughter. "I thought we were going to avoid that topic to prevent arguments."

"Ya suggested we avoid topics, I nevea agreed." A silent glare was passed between the two and the boys averted their eyes uncomfortably.

"Why do you insist on being difficult?"

"I'm jus' tryin' ta make us a normal family."

"I don't appreciate the attitude."

"Ya don't appreciate alot o' things."

"Why are you being so selfish?"

"I'm being selfish? Have ya looked at ya own life lately?"

Raven glared at the table next to them, where the couple was staring, and turned back to Rouge. "Will you keep your voice down?"

"NO!" Rogue stood up abruptly, causing her chair to fall over. "I'm sick o' talkin' ta ya an' ya only hearin' th' part ya wanna hear. Ya wanna be a family? Listen ta what I have ta say once!"

"But I do-"

"No, ya don't. Ya didn' listen when I was twelve an' ya not listenin' now!" With that, Rogue turned and fled from the dining area, leaving her family and Remy to stare at her retreating back.

Raven sat frozen in her chair, tears threatening to fall. "I try." She said softly. "I tried so hard. I did it all for her!" She rested her face in her hands as the tears began to cascade down her face. Kurt wrapped a comforting arm around his mother and shot Remy a what-the-heck-do-we-do-now? look.

"Why don' y' pay de check an' meet me in dat cafe across de street in 'bout . . . twenty minutes?"

"Where are you going?"

"T' find Marie."

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Damn, she's fast. Remy couldn't help but get a twinge of deja vu as he chased after his best friend. He caught up with her a few blocks away from the restaurant when she sat down on a wooden bench.

He approached slowly, sitting a good arms' length away form her on the bench. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a cigarette out of his dwindling supply and lit it with the jade lighter he had permanently acquired from St. John.

Rogue sniffled slightly and turned towards him as the smoke wafted her direction. "Ya know those things can kill ya, right?"

"Long wit' a million ot'er t'ings in de world."

Rogue buried her head in her hands. "God. She must've blown a gasket after I left."

"Actually, she's pretty broken up," Remy informed her, tapping ashes onto the pavement in front of him.

"So she's tryin' ta make me look like th' bad guy then?"

"Why does dere have t' be a bad guy, Marie?" Rogue glared at him. "I mean it. Y' got a pretty good t'ing goin' here. Y' met y' older brother, y' mom made sure bot' o' y' are taken care of, an' she's tryin' t' make amends. All's 'm sayin' is it couldn' hurt t' jus' be nicer t' her."

"Jus' 'cuz ya idolize my mother 'cuz yours was shitty-" She stopped at the look of hurt ghosted over Remy's face. "I . . . I shouldn' of said that. I'm so, so sorry. Remy, I-"

"'S okay. But 'm not de one y' should be 'pologizin' t'."

Silence settle around them and Remy briefly wondered if he was pushing his friend too hard. Finally, Rogue answered his unvoiced question. "Ya must think I'm a big baby, complainin' 'bout mom like I do." The space between them all but vanished as hse scooted over and laid her head on his shoulder.

Remy tried hard to give a coherent answer as the scent of her coconut shampoo toyed with his hormonal, teenage senses. "Well, y' did have a good reason t' be mad at her, but she's tryin' t' make up f'r it an' y' keep holdin' ont' dat grudge o' yours."

"Haven't ya learned that's what I'm best at?"

"Y' forgave me."

"That's what ya'd like ta think." Remy stared at her wide-eyed until she looked at him and he could see the twinkle of laughter in her green eyes.

"Y' wound me, cherie."

She gave him a slight shove. "Don' worry, I'm sure there's plenty o' girls in th' mansion who'll jump at th' chance ta be ya new best friend."

"Jump in what sense?"

"Pervert."

"An' y' love me f'r it." Their lighthearted banter died suddenly, bogged down by the last remarks implications. "So, ready t' go back an' face de music?"

Rogue scowled. "Fine. But first, ya" She grabbed the cigarette and crushed it, "have ta promise ta stop this."

It was amazing how the young man went from seeming wise beyond his years to seeming like a five year old who had just been told 'no'. "Ma-riieee!"

"Promise ya'll cut down."

He let out a deep sigh. "Fine."

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The boys watched through the coffee shop window as Rogue and Raven shared tentative smiles and sat down at a small table. It was visibly awkward, but it was a start.

"So what do ve do now?"

Remy slung an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Well, on one hand we could go back t' de mansion, but den we'd have t' 'splain why we're back sans Rogue an' face her wrath f'r doin' it."

Kurt blanched at the thought. "What's on ze other hand?"

"Y' evea been play pool, Kurt . . .?"

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The next few days at the mansion were littered with curious glances, something Remy was growing too comfortable with for his own liking. Several inquires were made, but the three remained tight-lipped about their evening out on the town.

It was a lazy Saturday several weeks later that found several of the older students lounging around in front of the television. They had just finished watching a movie and Scott sat flipping through the channels while the others fought over what to watch.

"Cool! Wrestling, leave it on."

"No, keep going!"

"Oh, Friends, leave it on Friends!"

"Go up another channel, I think CSI is on."

"STOP THERE!" Everyone froze as Remy raced over to the TV and turned up the volume. He kneeled beside the set as the news reported continued to talk with a picture of a sandy-haired man beside her.

"In other news, several guards and prisoners died in a Baton Rouge Prison riot today. Inmate Lucas DeClour, jailed for the murder of his wife and attempted murder of his son," Here the news station inserted a picture of a young boy and his auburn-haired mother smiling at the camera, "started the riot after he had been denied parole for the third time. He attacked a guard, Malcolm Brenner, and mayhem broke loose. Neither Brenner nor DeClour survived. The other victims-"

With a audible 'click', Remy switched of the television and stared at the blank screen. Slowly, Rogue knelt beside him and placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"Remy, let's go talk."

"No, Rogue."

"But-"

"Leave it, Rogue."

"Remy, please-"

"No, Marie!" He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Rogue let out a frustrated sigh before storming after him. "Remy, we have ta talk . . ."

As the echoing second slam began to fade away, St. John broke the silence that had settled over the group. "Who's Marie?"

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Remy stared down at the ground from his perch on the roof. After years and years of pretending they never existed, his father wedged his way back into his thoughts. Millions of feelings swirled through his head. He never kept any pictures of his mother; this had been the first time he saw her since the funeral. And his father . . . prison had not been kind to the man. He was barely recognizable with his gaunt frame and scraggly hair. Remy lifted a shaky hand to his mouth, trying and failing to light the cigarette that dangled from it. A gentle gloved hand reached around from behind him, grasping the cigarette and tossing it over the edge. There was silence for quite some time.

"I told y' he got rough."

His voice was barely a whisper, but Rogue heard it. Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his back. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry ya had ta go through that. I nevea knew."

"No." His voice was harsh as he fought his way out of her arms. "No, don' feel sorry f'r me. 'M jus' like 'im!"

"Remy?"

"'M jus' like 'im! Julien was mad at me, provokin' me. I shouldn' o' done it. Me an' Lapin an' Henri had been at de bar, drinkin' . . . I was jus' so angry an' den . . . den . . . dere was so much blood an' Bella was screamin' . . . 'M jus' like 'im." The Cajun sank to his knees, tears staining his cheeks as weeks of guilt and anxiety poured from him.

Slowly, Rogue knelt beside her friend. "Don' say that! Ya are so much better than him."

He looked at her, hurt, pain, and guilt swirling in his demonic eyes. "How can y' be sure?"

She wrapped her arms around once again and whispered in his ear. "Ya were a friend when a need one th' most."

Relief spread through him as she uttered the phrase he had said to her so many weeks ago. "Is it really dat simple?"

She nodded, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Yeah, I think it is." Their eyes locked and they were suddenly aware of their close proximity. Remy's breath hitched as he noticed her lips were tantalizingly close. All he had to was lean forward and . . .

"So, I think ya should maybe talk ta Logan or the Professor 'bout this," Said Rogue backing up. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Hand in gloved hand, the two friends made their way back into the mansion.